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hwashotcheeto · 1 day

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𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (10)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: Ten

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: Christmas has finally come. But with it, the end of Winter Break, and feelings that both you and Seonghwa are still too scared to confront.

WC: 6.3k

CW: Fluff, angst, suggestive but it cuts off

AN: I'm so sorry this took so long. I don't have much to say, other than this is more angsty than I planned, but I think it makes for a better story. I hope it's a good part one finale for you all, and you enjoy, as always. 💜

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans @malldreamprincess @unlikelysublimekryptonite @goayeos @kittkat44 @babyxhoiz @asleepylilcat @mxnsxngie @rxnexxi @mommahwa1117 @acciocriativity @anxiousskylar @h3arteyes4mingi @jus2passtime @asjkdk @soso59love-blog @i-love-ateez @cb97s-laptop @multistanbaby

It was December 24th, and you were awake way earlier than you wanted to be, standing in a jewelry store, looking through the glass of the display case at the many expensive, gorgeous, necklaces.

But tomorrow was Christmas, and you needed a gift for Seonghwa, so sacrifices had to be made.

You’d already figured out a gift for Wooyoung ages ago, you had it wrapped and ready in your guest room at the house.

Now you were here, looking for a gift for his mother.

You often had moments where you still couldn’t believe the life you were currently living.

“Do you need help?” You snapped your head up to find the person who spoke to you, and your eyes found a sweet older woman, smiling at you from behind her glasses. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, dear.”

“No, it’s alright,” you said back, offering back a half smile as you tried to collect yourself. “I’m just looking for a last minute gift.

“Oh, well, what exactly are you looking for?” The older woman came closer, looking over the necklaces in the case as you were.

At that moment, you realized that you really didn’t know what to look for.

You had a good sense of Seonghwa’s style by now, but in terms of jewelry, you were a little stumped. In the month you’d been there, the three of you hadn’t really gone out, so none of you really “dressed up.”

But of the things you did see, you weren’t sure what he preferred. He usually wore chains, something elegant to go with his already sophisticated outfits.

But at the same time, you didn’t want a generic, expensive diamond necklace on a silver chain. Most necklaces looked like that, just a pretty pendant on a cheap, boring chain.

Of course, they had their own charm, and you had a few necklaces like that yourself. But you wanted to find him something special, something as unique as he was.

You were wishing you’d asked Wooyoung what Seonghwa would wear, but even you knew about Wooyoung’s inability to shut the fuck up. So if you did ask, you ran the risk of spoiling the surprise.

“I don’t really know,” you mumbled, putting your hands into the pocket of your hoodie.

“Well, maybe I can help you,” the older woman offered, giving you another sweet smile. You had to admit, in the back of your mind, you were doubtful. But you’d accept any help you could at that moment.

You nodded, and the older woman nodded back. “So, who is it for?”

You hesitated, even if this was the expected first question. Considering the previous day’s events, you were even more hesitant to even breathe a word of your infatuation with Seonghwa to anyone.

So you spit out some half formed excuse that you hoped sounded believable. “For someone I’ve been seeing.”

The older woman’s eyes lit up like stars as a big smile spread across her face. You couldn’t help but smile with her.

“Isn’t that precious?” She looked at the display cases again before she looked back at you. “What are they like? What do they like to wear?”

Like magic, there he was in your mind. Seonghwa, in his gorgeous dresses and outfits. Walking like a queen with the way he held himself. His gorgeous smile that lit up the world, and his bright doe eyes.

He was everything. He was wonderful.

“He’s very mature,” you began, not picking up on the fact that “he” was the pronoun that came out. “He dresses expensively. He’s a type that likes the finer things in life.”

“You’re looking for something a little more expensive?” The woman teased with a little grin, but you nodded in agreement. You did have a budget, as your student loan money that you were using couldn’t all go to a Christmas present.

But for Seonghwa, you’d do it.

“Come with me.” The older woman began walking around to a different display case, and the necklaces here were far more ornate and expensive than the ones you were looking at. Your heart stopped when you saw the price tag on one of them.

One of these necklaces could easily pay for at least half a year of your tuition. That was intimidating, to say the very least.

The older woman must’ve saw the color drain from your face, because she quickly leaned on the counter and spoke to you softly: “This is where I tell people to look for the piece they want, and then we usually find something more affordable that’s close to what they want.”

Your entire body sagged with relief.

So there you went, looking over the necklaces they had. These ones weren’t just jewels on a chain, they were much more detailed than that, more intricate. There was more color in them, more styles overall.

As you were weighing your options, you were imagining Seonghwa in your mind, picturing how he’d look with each of them, what he’d wear with them, how it would look against his honey skin.

A few times, you got a little too wrapped up in your fantasies and had to pull yourself back.

You repeated the process until your eyes landed on the one. The one you could perfectly see Seonghwa wearing.

It was a choker with a large red stone in the center, with many others around it. There were a few diamonds around it as well, but they were quite small.

It could’ve been a crown.

“This one?” The older woman asked, knocking you out of your thoughts and back to reality. You shook yourself and nodded, smiling. “It’s quite expensive, are you sure?”

You looked at the price tag, and the necklace would definitely drain your bank account.

But you wanted it. You wanted him to have it.

“Yes,” you said, nodding. “I want that one.”

The older woman hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded as well, and went to wrap up the choker. You watched as she took it and put it into a silk lined velvet box, laying it out carefully, as if she could feel the price of every gemstone.

You followed her around the counter to where she was going to ring it up, trying your best to not be impatient. But the older woman couldn’t help but smile at your fidgeting and shifting around.

Just thinking about Seonghwa wearing it, how pretty the red would look against his skin, the chains around his pretty neck-

“Please insert your card, dear,” the older woman called, still smiling brightly.

You babbled out a “sorry” as you fumbled for your card to pay for the choker. The old woman was still smiling as you went through with the payment.

And yes, the choker was incredibly expensive. No, it didn’t count as a student expense.

But it was worth it for Seonghwa.

The older woman pushed the bag across the counter to you. “There you go.” She flashed that sweet, warm smile at you again as you carefully lifted the bag off the counter. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

At that moment, you looked into her eyes. You looked for any deceit. Any lies. Any possible malice or potential push back.

But there was nothing. Just light and joy.

You smiled back and nodded as relief washed over you. “I think so too.”

You placed the bag underneath the Christmas tree, hiding it behind the present you got Wooyoung. Thankfully, the both of them were still asleep when you arrived back at the house.

A stark contrast to the night before, the house was quiet, and empty. No people, no music, nothing. Just a house, full of decorations.

But now, you were fortunate for everyone to be asleep so you could tuck your very expensive, very special present behind the others.

But since the moment you left the store, you were having doubts. You just spent a lot of money on Seonghwa. You bought him something very special, something most people don’t gift to others unless they’ve known each other for quite some time.

You hadn’t known Seonghwa for quite some time. In fact, most people would think you’re doing much more than you should so early on. Even you were thinking that.

But you couldn’t deny the ache in your chest when you thought about Seonghwa. The goddamn ache, the feeling that could’ve dropped you to your knees if you weren’t careful. The ache you felt all over your body when you didn’t get the chance to even hold his hand, to hug him, to be with him.

The crippling feeling when you thought about going back to campus and not seeing him for months.

Maybe you were falling too soon and too hard. Maybe this wasn’t right.

You moved to reach for the bag when you heard two doors open and close. As footsteps moved across the hardwood floor upstairs, you worked to get your jacket and shoes off as quickly and quietly as possible before the owners came downstairs.

You closed the door to the coat closet as Yeosang and Jongho made their way down the stairs, wearing what looked like Wooyoung’s shirts and shorts, their hair messy and eyes half open. You gave them the best smile you could muster at that point, but tried to not over do it.

“What are you doing up so early?” Jongho asked, his voice scratchy and low. Your eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall in the living room, above the TV, and it was just after seven. Would it be early if you were still on campus? No.

But you weren’t on campus, so yes, it was early.

But you realized you didn’t have an excuse as to why you were up so early.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you babbled, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could manage. To your relief, the two half awake men in front of you weren’t in the mood to interrogate you.

“Us too,” Yeosang agreed, following Jongho into the kitchen. You did the same, getting glasses of water with them and sitting at the kitchen table.

None of you said anything for a few moments. You three were enjoying the early morning silence, the peace, the few stray strands of sunlight peeking in through the windows and stretching across the floor.

Eventually, Jongho broke the peaceful silence. “Do you think San and Wooyoung will be down before noon?”

Yeosang pretended to think as he took another sip from his glass. He looked off, as if into the distance, like he was prophesying about the future. You couldn’t help but laugh. The sound made Yeosang smile.

“No, I think they’ll be there until we go find them,” he concluded, finishing the rest of his water afterwards. You nodded in agreement, taking another sip from your glass.

“I expected the same from you.” Jongho looked at you over the rim of his glass as he sipped his water. You looked down as your face began to burn. You didn’t have an answer to that, so you kept quiet. But you knew your friends wouldn’t let you off easy.

Yeosang continued the conversation as he set his glass down in front of himself. “Yeah, it is a little weird that you’re awake so early, fully dressed, standing by the front door.”

Both men were looking at you now as you stared down at the table, your face burning like the sun, the heat pulsing in waves.

It’s not that you were worried that they’d spoil the surprise. You were more afraid of their opinions and judgements of the gift you got. You could handle the jokes and even fire back at them, and you welcomed the banter about the relationship you’d found yourself in.

But you were already beginning to have second thoughts about the expensive present sitting across the house, tucked away under the tree, hidden away from sight because you were embarrassed.

It was everything you were afraid of. Falling too hard too fast, committing to something larger than yourself, something you very well might not be ready for.

“Hey,” Jongho called, waving his hand close to your face. “You kinda spaced there, you okay?”

You blinked a few times, like you were rebooting yourself, and smiled as best you could. “Yeah, sorry, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Yeosang countered. Their slightly amused faces turned to ones of concern, their eyebrows down. They weren’t sure what exactly was in your head, but they knew it wasn’t nothing, like you were about to tell them it was.

And you knew they would push. But you didn’t want to vent all of your worries and fears and poor life choices at seven in the morning, especially when they didn’t know the full extent of the month’s events.

Thankfully, you had your out, as Wooyoung came down the stairs with San close behind. They both looked like they’d skipped the waking up part of waking up, with fluttering mostly closed eyes and their hair the best example of a “rat’s nest.”

Yeosang and Jongho looked up at them as they came into the kitchen, sliding their feet across the floor, hardly picking them up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you said cheerfully, trying to steer the conversation to the two zombie looking men that strode in. The two men at the table, to your relief, joined you in teasing the others.

“The year hasn’t changed yet, just for reference,” Jongho threw out. Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he continued past the table to the cabinet to get himself and San a drink.

San followed him, stopping when he did, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung’s waist from behind and laying his head on the younger’s shoulder.

With the heat off you, you breathed a small sigh of relief. You knew this wouldn’t be the last of the conversation, but that would be a problem for future you to handle.

Seonghwa didn’t wake up until an hour after San and Wooyoung had. That was to be expected, after all the party planning and hosting he’d done the day prior. Not to mention, the emotional distress was quite draining.

Wooyoung helped him with breakfast, and you all ate with minimal conversation, of which you were grateful for. The less you spoke, the less chances you had to expose or incriminate yourself.

The rest of the morning was mostly slow and quiet. You were all still recovering and resting from the previous day, and dreading the end of Winter Break as a whole.

Classes started again in the second week of January, but you and Wooyoung had agreed to be back on campus by January 1st.

If you weren’t counting Christmas Eve, the day you were thinking all of this, you had only one week left. Seven more days until you had to leave.

It didn’t help that Seonghwa was being particularly clingy that day. He sat next to you at breakfast, he was holding your hand, he was giving you little kisses.

He hugged you from behind as you were helping with the dishes, holding you tight while his body pressed into yours.

He wordlessly demanded cuddles from you when everyone dispersed after breakfast. He pulled you onto the couch and held you tight, almost falling right back asleep when he did.

You didn’t think, or really even wanted to, ask why Seonghwa was so attached to you that day. You told yourself it was because he was tired. Or maybe he realized you would be leaving in a week too.

Whatever it was, you were conflicted.

You couldn’t stop thinking as you laid in Seonghwa’s arms, your head on his chest. You wanted to relax into his warmth and safety and let the tension melt off your body.

But you kept thinking of that goddamn choker. The choker you were so proud of finding, that you gladly spent so much money on, the choker that you knew would look amazing on him.

It was stuck in your head because you didn’t know if you were actually going to give it to him or not.

Maybe you’d just take it back to campus with you and save it for another time. Maybe you’d return it altogether. You’d just sit with Wooyoung as Seonghwa opened the Lego sets Wooyoung said you both could take credit for.

Maybe that was the safer option. Maybe that was the less crazy option.

But as you began to accept that conclusion and make peace with it, the ache was back.

As you listened to Seonghwa’s steady heartbeat, feeling his hand run up and down your back, the ache returned with a burning passion. Your breathing grew labored, like the ache was genuinely squeezing your heart and forcing the air out of your lungs.

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined shoving the choker’s bag into your own and taking it back to campus with you. The ache spread to your arms and legs as you thought about never presenting the gift to him, and simply just watching him open the presents Wooyoung bought.

Your whole body hurt. It felt like a pulsing, squeezing pain, and you couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t stop the tears from running down your face.

You’d fallen in too deep. You fell too hard, too fast.

Everything you’d been afraid of had happened exactly as you thought it would.

By the time your friends left, the sky was already darkening again. As much as you all would’ve loved for them to stay, they had families to go home to as well.

You wondered how long it would be before San and Wooyoung were consistently going to each other’s family events. Or even hosting their own.

But it was hours since then, and you were sitting back on the couch with Seonghwa and Wooyoung. Seonghwa sat between the two of you, his arm around your shoulders, holding you tight against him, with Wooyoung sitting the same way.

But Wooyoung was stretched across most of the couch and his arms were dramatically thrown around Seonghwa, like he was a figure in a painting you’d find in an old museum.

You three had agreed to get snacks and drinks and watch Christmas movies until midnight, when you could open your gifts for each other.

But the movies kept getting interrupted by Wooyoung being impatient, general commentary, and before you all knew it, you were all talking again with the movies long forgotten.

In a way, you preferred this. The more time you spent talking, the less time you had to think about the impending time of your decision. But as the clock ticked down, as midnight drew closer, your efforts were in vain.

All you could think of was that goddamn choker. The repeated question of “will you, won’t you” flashing across your eyes like some kind of horror montage.

You started to feel sick. Your stomach was churning, your head felt light. You were pretty sure you were beginning to turn green. All over a fucking choker.

Midnight drew ever closer, and the dread in your stomach intensified and grew with every second that ticked by. Your eyes kept jumping back and forth, from the clock on the wall to the TV and back again.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Wooyoung sat up and yelled, “It’s Christmas!”

Your hands were slightly shaking as Wooyoung got up from the couch and pulled you and Seonghwa along, dragging you across the room to kneel down by the Christmas tree.

The warm lights of the tree that once brought you comfort now nearly made you vomit.

You swallowed it back as you settled next to the tree on the hardwood floor, pushing the bag with the choker further back into the corner. Your wrapped your arm around your back in an effort to do so as subtly as possible.

Seonghwa also came to sit on the floor in front of the tree between you and Wooyoung, but only after he’d gotten a trash bag to put the discarded wrapping paper in. Wooyoung happily shoved a box towards Seonghwa, a huge smile stretched across his face.

“We got this one for you!” He dropped the present in Seonghwa’s lap as he reached over to grab the other boxes that had Seonghwa’s name on the tag. “And these ones too.”

Seonghwa pouted, but then smiled warmly at his son. Oh, how ethereal he looked under the light of the Christmas tree, delicately highlighting his warm skin and putting sparkles in his eyes.

You shook your head and came back to the present as Seonghwa began to tear the wrapping paper off the box in his lap. His smile grew bigger the more he revealed the box, and finally laughed in excitement.

“Oh, nae sarang,” Seonghwa sighed, putting the wrapping paper in the trash bag. “This is so sweet of you, thank you.”

Wooyoung was absolutely beaming, his smile outshining the tree beside him. His eyes flicked over to you, and you couldn’t help but share his smile. Seonghwa looked at you too, and your heart fluttered at the genuine gratitude in them.

“Thank you too, jagiya.”

You just nodded, your heart cracking a little.

But you happily watched Seonghwa tear open the rest of the boxes. His eyes lit up every time, laughing in pure joy at the brand new expensive Lego sets. You nodded every time he said thank you, but guilt pulled at your heart knowing you didn’t actually contribute in any way.

But Wooyoung didn’t seem to mind. He was just as happy seeing Seonghwa open the presents, as if he was the one receiving them instead of giving them out.

You were truly the luckiest person to have Wooyoung.

After Seonghwa had finished unwrapping the Lego boxes, he stacked them up and put them aside, and then pulled Wooyoung into a tight hug.

“Thank you, nae sarang,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Eomma,” Wooyoung whispered, squeezing Seonghwa tighter.

Your heart cracked again.

Wooyoung pulled away from Seonghwa and reached back under the tree for a bag. It looked fairly inconspicuous, just a regular white bag with white tissue paper sticking out the top. But in your experience with Wooyoung, quiet and boring was always suspicious.

Seeing your hesitation, Wooyoung sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not a bomb, don’t look at it like that,” he whined. “Just open it.”

“It’s a bag, it’s already open,” you teased, to which Wooyoung groaned and rolled his head back. Both you and Seonghwa let out a soft giggle.

“Just open it, please!”

With another giggle, you pulled the tissue paper aside and looked into the bag, seeing a bundle wrapped in more tissue paper. You carefully pulled it out and pulled the paper off to reveal the gift.

“Wooyoung,” you breathed as you looked over the expensive outfit in your hands. The logo on the tag was what you saw first, your head shooting up to look at him in bewilderment. “What is this?”

“Clothes, dummy,” he answered with his award winning smile again. “Now you don’t have to borrow my clothes for events.”

You know his comment was a joke, but his words went straight to your heart. You hadn’t asked for this, Hell, you didn’t even think about buying it for yourself.

But you finally had a nice outfit for events, or parties.

Or maybe even future restaurant dates.

“Thank you.” You carefully folded the clothes back up, as if they’d unravel in your hands, and laid them back in the bag.

“You don’t have to thank me, it was a necessity.”

You rolled your eyes, to which Wooyoung just smiled. You couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same.

“Is it my turn now?” Seonghwa asked as you put the bag aside. Your eyes caught a glimpse of your own gift behind the tree again.

“Sure,” you breathed, your lungs shrinking. Wooyoung eagerly reached under the tree and grabbed a box, wrapped in gold wrapping paper, with his name written on it in Hangul.

He wasted no time in shredding the paper, almost reminiscent of a cat, and revealed a large, expensive laptop. Wooyoung just stared at it for a few moments with his jaw hanging open, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Eomma,” he whispered, then looked up at Seonghwa. “When I said I wanted a new one, I wasn’t serious,” he started to explain, but Seonghwa held up his hand to stop him.

“I don’t care, I wanted to get it for you. And I think college would be a little difficult with a broken laptop.”

You held back a giggle remembering the moment Wooyoung dramatically wailed about how he accidentally knocked his previous laptop off a table and onto the linoleum floor of the classroom.

Wooyoung just stared at Seonghwa for a few moments, like he was about to tell his son it was all a joke. But when Seonghwa just smiled at him, in the warm mom way, Wooyoung smiled too and hugged the box.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, nae sarang.”

Wooyoung set the box aside carefully, slowly setting it down beside him, making sure it would be safe before he turned to you and Seonghwa.

You looked up at Seonghwa, and he smiled at you warmly before he reached over and squeezed your hand. “Your present comes later.”

It took every ounce of strength to not burst into tears right then and there. You just mustered up the best smile you could and nodded. There was no teasing look in Seonghwa’s eyes, no allusion to more. Just his warm smile and bright eyes.

“Eomma, I didn’t need to know that,” Wooyoung groaned dramatically, speaking loudly as he flung himself back to lay on the floor. You rolled your eyes as Seonghwa pulled his hand away and looked back at Wooyoung.

“It’s not like that,” he began, but Wooyoung just whined again.

“If you’re gonna be like that, then I won’t give you your present,” you added as you pulled out a large, black bag from under the tree, with black wrapping paper sticking out of it.

Wooyoung shot up and looked at you, and then at the bag, then back again in confusion. His brows went down as he opened his mouth to question you, but you just slid the bag across the floor to him.

“I’ve had them hidden for months,” you explained as wooyoung grabbed the bag.

“Them?”

“Yes, them, now go look!”

Wooyoung looked at the bag again, this time with a look of concern instead of confusion, like something was about to jump out at him. He studied the still bag for a few more moments before he finally pulled out the tissue paper and looked inside.

And he pulled out two small plushies: A black cat and a red fox.

Wooyoung gasped as he pulled them out, then hugged them tightly. “You remembered!” He exclaimed as he looked at them again, turning them over and admiring all the little details.

Months prior, Wooyoung wouldn’t stop talking about these plushies he wanted. He had a collection going, and he needed those two to complete it, but he never had a chance to get them.

So one night, you did. You ordered them online and hid them in your dorm for months, waiting for the day you could’ve given it to Wooyoung.

And here you were, on Christmas Day, finally seeing his eyes light up like stars as he looked at them both, hugging them like they were his children.

The sight helped alleviate some of the tension in your chest.

“Thank you,” he finally said to you as he looked up. You smiled, and this time, it was genuine.

“You’re welcome.”

Meanwhile, Seonghwa was smiling just as brightly. The mom smile you adored, the softness in his eyes as he looked at you both with unending fondness.

It cracked your heart all over again.

With all your presents exchanged, Seonghwa and Wooyoung collected their gifts and went to bring them to their rooms.

You did the same, but hid the choker bag in the gift bag Wooyoung gave you, and ran to your room to hide it there.

How ridiculous this all was. You bought the choker for Seonghwa, you brought it home, you’d imagined how beautiful he’d look with it. You’d walked out of that store knowing he’d gratefully accept the gift, and you were excited to see him wear it.

But how could you give someone like him something like this? This was far too much money for someone you haven’t known for nearly enough time.

But you bought it because of the goddamn pain in your chest. The suffocating, choking ache that grew ever stronger every day. It invaded every part of your body, it was in your blood and bones. Even if you wanted to smother it and shove it away, it would take forever.

You knew what it was. You knew why it was there.

But you didn’t have the courage to say it. Which is why the choker was getting shoved in the duffle bag and into the closet as you fought back tears.

Maybe you’d give it to Seonghwa another day. Maybe as a birthday present, whenever that was.

But not now. You couldn’t do it now.

As you wiped the tears from your eyes, there was a gentle knock at the door before it opened a little.

“May I come in?” It was Seonghwa, you knew it was him before he even spoke.

You nodded, as if he could see that, as you said “yes” and sat down on the bed. Seonghwa came into the room and carefully shut the door behind him before he came to sit down next to you.

In his hand was a square, navy, velvet box, about the side of a small plate. He held it out to you with a warm smile that would have melted the coldest of hearts. You took the box from him carefully, like it would disappear at any second, and were surprised when it had a little weight to it.

“It’s okay,” he said softly when you hesitated, putting one of his hands over yours. You looked up and met his big, brown eyes again. “It’s all yours, jagiya.”

You just nodded, because you couldn't think of anything meaningful to say as your eyes fell back down to the box in your hands.

You shoved away the guilt that stirred in your gut as you slowly opened the velvet case, and tears welled in your eyes all over again.

It’s like Seonghwa knew you were buying him a choker earlier, and that you wanted something with more detail and intricacies.

A necklace, but there were gemstones all up the chain with a larger one hanging from the bottom. The gemstones on the chain were small and simple. not trying to be in the way, but just to elevate the chain.

The larger, square cut gemstone that hung from the ornate chain was meant to be in the way. It wasn’t obnoxiously large, no, it was just perfect.

Everything was perfect. You were blinking back tears, it was so perfect.

“Seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you whispered, your throat closing up. You ran your fingers over the gemstones, almost like you needed to touch it to see if it was real.

Seonghwa was beaming, lighting up the whole room with his smile as he watched you admire the necklace. “You said you wanted something to show off.”

“And I will.” You carefully lifted the necklace out of the box, and as you were going to put it on, Seonghwa stopped you and reached up to take it.

“May I?” Two simple words. Words that were very small and insignificant to anyone else.

But this moment felt like much more than just putting on a necklace.

It almost felt sacred. Intimate. Like a ceremony.

You nodded and gave the necklace to Seonghwa. He moved closer and wrapped it around your neck, reaching over your shoulder to clasp it behind your neck. You felt your face burn at how close he was, with his arms around you, his body enveloping yours.

But he pulled back just a few seconds later to admire how the beautiful piece sat against your skin. Seonghwa’s eyes lit up like stars as his smile spread across his whole face again. “I knew it was perfect,” he said softly as he ran his fingers down the chain.

If your heart could beat any harder, the large stone on the necklace would’ve started shaking. It was a bizarre feeling, to be so guilty and torn up, but so elated, and desire the man before you.

And when Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up to yours, it’s as if he could see it all. Every tear, every smile, eerie second guess you’d ever had. Like he could see the entire month of December replaying in your eyes in those few seconds.

There were no other words spoken as Seonghwa leaned close and pressed his lips to yours. It was a soft kiss, feather light. Loving.

When Seonghwa laid you down on your back, your body turned to putty in his hands. Your limbs were growing weak as you wrapped them around his body. You wanted him as close as close could be, wanted to remember his taste, every soft moan as he breathed his life into every kiss, the touch of his hands on every part of your body.

You wanted it all. And Seonghwa was more than happy to provide.

The first day of the new year had come and gone. The thirty one days of December went by faster than they had in previous years.

But as you and Wooyoung loaded your bags back up into his car, you were anything but joyful.

“We’ll visit again during Spring Break,” he reassured you as he closed the trunk. “And it’s not like you don’t have his number, you can still talk to him.”

Wooyoung was trying his best to reassure you, but his face fell when he realized nothing was working. Everything he was telling you, you already knew it. Obviously you’d see Seonghwa again, and you’d probably be texting him at least once every few days, if not every day.

The world was not ending. This blissful period did, but it wasn’t the end of everything. You’d be back, you’d see Seonghwa again.

But the months between January 1st and Spring Break would be difficult after the month you’d just lived through.

It felt juvenile. You were a grown adult in college, working towards a degree to hopefully secure a good career and have a comfortable life. You had classes to worry about, not your boyfriend who’s double your age.

But he wouldn’t ever leave your head. You knew in your head that when you went back to class, he’d probably be there in the back of your head.

An effort in mental gymnastics is what these next few months would hold.

Wooyoung brought you back up to the house for your final goodbyes. Seonghwa was standing in the open doorway, dressed in a cream knitted sweater with black sweatpants. Normally, he was dressed up in some way, even if it was a pajama set. Today, he hadn’t bothered with fashion.

Wooyoung hugged him first, squeezed him so tight, he lifted Seonghwa off the floor. For the first time that morning, you smiled as they both laughed. The noise of surprise and protest Seonghwa let out just made Wooyoung hoist him up more, until all three of you were laughing.

“How could you put your poor eomma through such things?” Seonghwa asked in a perfectly dramatic voice as he made a show of fixing his hair and sweater.

“As if you’re any better,” Wooyoung teased. Seonghwa just smiled and kissed his head, to which Wooyoung reciprocated with a cheek kiss.

“Be safe, nae sarang.”

“I will, Eomma.”

They exchanged an “I love you” before Wooyoung walked away, and gave you a nod before he went to sit in the car to wait.

It was like a movie scene. The sun was setting, the snow was falling. The sunset colors illuminated your face as Seonghwa gave you a half hearted smile.

You wordlessly hugged him tightly, and he instantly returned the hug. You two stayed there in that hug, silently clinging onto each other like it would be the last time.

It wouldn’t be the last time. Far from it.

But you both found something that December. You found someone. And it was so special, you couldn’t bear to lose it.

As you pulled back to look up at him, the little voice was in your head again. Telling you that you were taking this too seriously, that you shouldn’t have been so upset, that this wasn’t a big deal.

The voice disappeared as Seonghwa pulled you into another loving kiss. The idea that this was a movie scene popped back into your head as he held your cheek and kept you close.

You could've sworn you heard your heart break when you both pulled away.

“Be safe,” Seonghwa softly said onto your lips. You nodded as you painstakingly pulled out of his arms.

“I will. You too.”

Seonghwa gave you another small smile. His eyes flicked down to the necklace that you still wore. You’d worn it every day since the night he gave it to you, and kept it in it’s case every night.

You smiled back before you forced yourself to walk back to Wooyoung’s car. Seonghwa watched from the doorway until Wooyoung’s car disappeared, and he could no longer hear it.

Wooyoung reached over the center console and held your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing. He didn’t need to say anything, no words needed to be said.

But as you were swallowing back the tightness in your throat and blinking back tears, the comfort felt good. The firm squeeze was what you needed, as you both were headed back to campus, unsure of where life was going to bring you both next.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic #seonghwa ff #seonghwa x reader #best friend's mother

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kwanisms · 2 days

Text

➔ back to character select | back to main menu

🔞 many of these works contain sexual content (18+ mdni) 🔞 ♤ — angst :: ♡ — fluff :: ♧ — smut ✍ — ongoing :: ⊝ — hiatus :: ⊗ — discontinued :: ✓ — completed

— oneshots

»» Kinkuary: double penetration + anal (ft. Hongjoong) ♧

➥ 6.7k; after a few drinks and a slip of the tongue, Y/N and her boyfriend, Seonghwa, invite their friend Hongjoong back to their hotel room.

»» Library of Illusion: Keeper of the Keys ♧

➥ 5.7k; Y/N finally has all 6 keys and returns to Seonghwa only to learn that not only does she now need his key, but he's also much more than the man she thought he was.

— timestamps

»» [00:16] ♧

➥ 476; you teach your boyfriend how to properly finger you

»» [00:53] ♧

➥ 688; you gift your boyfriend a very special gift for his birthday

— series

»» To the Sky ♧⊝

➥ --; Living in the Sky is not always easy, especially when you have a religious sect policing everything you do. One florist, Bang Y/N, has always dreamed of life outside Arcadia. Little does she know she’s about to find out how very different life is when a group of sky pirates accidentally kidnap her.

ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ ©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me. Content and support banners made by me using cafekitsune's template.

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez x reader #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa angst #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez masterlist #kwanisms masterlist

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daemour · 3 months

Text

I Can See You

Pairing: single dad! Seonghwa x babysitter! f! yn

Word Count: 10,137

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, a creepy old man in one scene, age gap (10 years but both are adults (and not just barely)), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, single parent au, M for mature audiences

Summary: When you took a job babysitting a young toddler, you didn't expect to be so drawn to the family. And more specifically, her frustratingly hot and single dad.

Smut Warnings: masturbation, sexual fantasies, riding, slight (if you squint) corruption kink, sliGHT breeding kink, unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), breast play, overstimulation, undiscussed kinks (yn is fine with it. but discuss your fucking kinks guys *gun emoji*), slight cumplay

thank u to @pyeonghongrie and @mingsolo for beta'ing and for the title hehe <3 this is also a collab with @potatomountain who is also writing a dilf hwa, we're just on two sides of the spectrum lol...and this is so damn long

“Hello, I’m here for a babysitter interview with a Mr Park?”

“That would be me. Miss (Y/N)?”

When you answered the ad in the newspaper about babysitting, you were so ready to see an older man, around his fifties. But this man looked so young, around his late twenties although you’re sure he’s probably forty. And you’re not one to judge—nearing your mid-twenties one wouldn’t be expecting you to still babysit as a full-time job. But it pays the bills and helps you get some hands-on experience in your degree, child development.

“Ah, yes. That’s me,” your words spill out as you realise he is awaiting an answer. Mentally, you berate yourself for the immediate blunder while Mr Park’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Come on in and make yourself comfy on the couch. I’ll be right there. Would you like anything to drink?” Mr Park’s voice is smooth like butter and you have a hard time making sure you don’t get lost in it.

Again, you nod, actual wordy responses jumbled in your brain, walking to the couch and sitting down almost mechanically. If you were mentally present, you would have noticed the smile the older man sends your way.

He doesn’t take too long, returning with two glasses of water. “You didn’t say what you wanted to drink so I just got you water. Is that okay?”

Thankfully, you finally can respond coherently and smile, albeit a little shakily. “Yes, thank you so much.”

You take the glass with both hands, thanking him again quietly and taking a small sip before just holding it as you wait for him to be seated. You’ve felt awkward before, but this is a new extreme. Normally you pride yourself on keeping your cool in front of someone you think is hot, but Mr Park…he’s something else. You try your best to keep your eyes trained on the coffee table, only letting yourself glance at him occasionally so he doesn’t realise just how in awe you are.

“Jihee will be home from school soon, so you’ll see her soon. For now it’ll just be old me and my questions,” Mr Park starts his interview as soon as he sits on the couch across from you. “Now, I saw in your application that your major was in child development? Can I ask why that interested you?”

You blink at him for a moment, not expecting that question. Sure, bringing it up was expected, but the way he sounds like he’s interviewing you for a position in a company amuses you. “Uh…I just grew up with a lot of siblings and their kids. I’m the youngest of six, and the oldest is sixteen years older than me so I have a lot of nieces and nephews as well. Children have always been a part of my life, and my first job was babysitting so it’s something I’m very used to. Child development was just a way for me to learn even more and in a less… hands-on way. Poopy diapers are not my favourite.” You pause. “Not that I can’t change them! Or that Jihee uses them. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

You’re so sure your face is bright red right now as you stumble over your words, and you’re ready to be kicked out, but all Mr Park does instead is laugh at your embarrassment. It’s a little mean but it’s better than your worst conclusion so you’ll take it. “It’s okay,” Mr Park smiles at you. “It’s okay to ramble, it was actually quite amusing. Now, I’d just like to warn you, Jihee has trouble with working on schoolwork. While that usually isn’t an issue, she may be asking you to help her with her homework and reading and I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Would that cause any trouble?”

“It wouldn’t bother me, and I’ll try my best. I took children’s education in college as well so it’d be a good time for me to exercise that,” you laugh quietly. Your first dream was to be a governess, no matter how few jobs there are for that type of work.

Mr Park nods thoughtfully. “Glad to give you some experience in that,” he hums after careful consideration, a smile on his face. “Her struggles lie in understanding the problems and in English. If she faces any difficulty then I can always help out.”

Before either of you continues speaking, his watch beeps and he glances down. Without another word, he stands and goes to open the front door. “Uh–” Your confusion escapes you before you can stop it.

“Oh, Jihee’s almost home and I always leave the door open for her,” he explains, eyes still trained on his watch. “You’ll get to meet her, and then we can discuss more details. And just to reiterate the ad, this is going to be a job that requires a lot of hours. I, of course, will be paying you for any sort of overtime if I need to stay at the office later. Does your schedule still allow for that?”

You hold back your smile. Your schedule mostly consists of scrolling the internet for job opportunities and eating lunch with your friends. “Yes, I can do that,” you affirm. “I’ll need holidays off, but I assume that’s a given as you’ll also be with Jihee?”

A smile pulls at the corner of Mr Park’s mouth. “Very astute,” he chuckles. “Now, here she comes.”

The door swings open without another word from either of you and a little girl dressed in pink and ribbons barrels into Mr Park’s knees. He lets out a quiet grunt, stabilising himself against the door as his hand strokes at her hair. “Hello, Jihee,” he hums fondly. "How was school today?"

The young girl beams up at her father. "So fun!" she grins, her words slightly slurred in her excitement. "Today, Mrs Lee had us do shapes and my favourite colour is blue now! I have so many blue crayons."

Mr Park's eyebrow raises at the mention of crayons. "Do you have them with you?" he asks, and Jihee nods vigorously. "Can I see them?"

Another nod comes from the child and she immediately plops on the floor, pulling out her pencil case and opening it to reveal at least ten crayons, all of varying sizes. What stands out to you the most is that half of them are green. "See! All blue. But this one's my favourite." She grabs at a particularly long and skinny one, a shade of emerald green.

"Ah. Lovey, remember, your colours are a little different, right?" Mr Park talks in a gentle voice, very different from the very adult voice he used with you. "That's a green crayon."

Jihee's face drops. "Oh." Her bottom lip juts out in a pout.

Mr Park holds out his hand and Jihee drops the crayon into his palm. "You can't take the crayons from school anyway, dear. Why don't we leave these in your bag and you can give them back and apologise to Mrs Lee tomorrow?"

Jihee's pout grows bigger but she nods. "Okay, daddy," she agrees and Mr Park nods proudly.

"Now, do you want to meet your new friend?" You flinch as Mr Park mentions you, sitting up straighter in your chair before ultimately deciding to stand instead.

"Hi, Jihee," you do your best to speak with the same quiet tone Mr Park used. "I'm (Y/N)! It's nice to meet you."

You offer your hand for her to shake and Jihee looks at you, her thinking face almost a spitting image of her father's before she walks over and takes your hand with gusto. "Hi, Mrs (Y/N).”

"Ah, I'm not a Mrs," you correct her. "You can call me (Y/N)."

"Miss (Y/N)," Mr Park quietly interrupts and you nod, not wanting to override his parenting although being called 'miss' will catch you off-guard for the time being. "Why don't you tell her one thing about yourself and then Miss (Y/N) has to go, okay?"

Jihee's mouth twists in sadness, her hand still gripping yours. "Okay," she sighs again. "I get to talk to her more later though, right?"

Mr Park nods. "Of course. Miss (Y/N) will be spending a lot of time with you, so I'm glad you like her."

Jihee nods solemnly. "I like pretty people and you're super pretty," she tells you earnestly and your heart swells at the compliment.

“Thank you, Jihee,” you thank her genuinely, although you’re amused at the fact that she considers her appreciation for physical looks a good introduction to herself. “It was nice to meet you.”

With another decisive nod, Jihee turns and marches right off down the hall, presumably to her room. Mr Park turns to you, finally shutting his front door with a sigh. “That was Jihee. Ball of energy extraordinaire. She comes home from school at one-thirty, and will put her own things away before coming to eat a snack. She has one worksheet to do a day but with your help she’ll get it fairy quickly. I’ll email you a list of house rules.”

You nod. “That sounds perfect. What would the schedule look like? What time would I be here, and when would I expect you to come home?”

Mr Park hums, running a hand through his perfect hair. “For her school days, I’d like to have you in here maybe ten minutes before she comes. I’ll always leave her snack in the fridge and you can just pop it in the microwave and make yourself comfortable before she comes barrelling in. Then I’ll be home at five-thirty sharp whenever possible. Every other Saturday I’m in the office for eight hours and you’ll be watching Jihee for those days. If you can’t do a Saturday, just let me know so I can get someone to watch her, but generally I’d like you here from eight to five.”

You nod. All your friends have atypical work schedules so your Saturdays are empty in general, and since the weekdays are shorter hours you don’t mind. “When it comes to after-school playdates, should I expect you to be home or would you like me to take care of them?”

Mr Park’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly. “That won’t be an issue. Jihee doesn’t do playdates.” Your curiosity spikes at his short answer but his tone leaves no room for discussion so you don’t press it. “I’ll give you a key now. Tomorrow is my off-Saturday but if you can come in just to adjust yourself that would be great. I have some work to get done anyway so I’ll be mostly out of your hair although you can still ask me questions.”

You nod again. “Yeah, that works,” you confirm after a quick check to your phone calendar. When you look up, Mr Park is already holding out a key and you take it after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Mr Park nods, moving to open the door when Jihee calls out with a whining tone to her voice. “Daddy, I need help!”

Mr Park sighs but it’s full of affection for his daughter. “I would walk you to your car but she calls for me,” his head dips into an apologetic bow but you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile at him. “There’s no need for that at all.” That is one of the main reasons, but another part of you doesn’t want him to know you have no car and you take the bus to his neighbourhood and then walk the rest of the way.

A twenty-four-year-old with no car? It’s a little embarrassing, especially in the area you both live in where it’s almost required to have a car to do anything. Generally, your babysitting jobs were close enough to your home, but the salary of this job enticed you to give up walking.

As you exit, you can hear Jihee starting off her complaints about her jacket and you smile to yourself subconsciously.

You’ve been working with the Parks for almost a month now and generally, it’s a good time. You only really see Mr Park when he comes home, but by then you have one foot out the door. There are days when he looks so beaten down that you want to offer him some encouragement, but you don’t want to step out of your boundaries. So, you just keep your head down and leave.

Jihee is sweet and easy-going, not hard for you to get along with. She always has some sort of fun idea for you to play along with and her schoolwork hasn’t been too terrible although you dread when she starts getting into more difficult maths.

But today, as soon as Jihee walks into the door, you suspect something is wrong. She doesn’t greet you as excitedly as she used to, just stalking straight into her bedroom and coming right now, settling herself down on the couch with a pout on her face.

“Jihee, don’t you want to eat?” you try to coax her to the dinner table, but she just shakes her head, immobile. You frown. It’s strange for the usually talkative child to be this closed off. “Did something happen at school?”

Jihee glares at the coffee table, shaking her head. “No,” she mutters but her cold-stone facade drops immediately as she suddenly bursts into tears. Your heart drops for the child crying on your couch and you immediately run to her and pull her into your arms. “Why don’t they like me?” she wails into your shirt and your heart drops.

You had suspected it when Mr Park shut down the playdate idea very quickly, but this just solidifies your thoughts. How could the kids at school not like such a sweet kid? As you’ve been working for the Parks for quite a bit now, you’ve grown to adore the young girl like she was one of your own nieces.

You don’t say anything just yet, just patting her hair and doing your best to calm her down. It takes almost an hour but now she just curls up in your arms, her hands gripping your shirt as she’s so close to falling asleep. You don’t have the heart to wake up so you resign yourself to letting her sleep on you for now.

Within ten minutes, you fall asleep as well. It’s not what you meant to do, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself. When your eyes open again, Jihee is no longer in your arms and there’s a large fluffy blanket laid on top of you. You blink yourself awake before panic sets in and you shoot up, looking around. “Jihee?” you call out and hear deep laughter behind you. When your head snaps back you see Mr Park chuckling at your face.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss (Y/N).”

It takes a minute for your words to register, blinking stupidly at your employer for a few moments before your face drops and you practically leap off the couch. “I’m so sorry!” you cry, bowing rapidly at a low angle. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep and it won’t happen again.”

You keep your eyes lowered and you look up at him through your lashes, scared of how he’ll react but to your surprise, Mr Park’s smile grows and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, you looked comfortable and the doors were locked. Jihee didn’t get into any trouble, just was a little bored since you were asleep.”

You shake your head. “Regardless, I shouldn’t sleep on the job but thank you for the kindness. Jihee is very responsible for her age and it certainly reflects on your parenting.” You smile back at him.

“Well, thank you for your kind words. It means a lot to me as well,” Mr Park hums. “Would you like to join us for dinner? I know you usually leave around the time I get back but let me at least feed you before you go.”

You frown. “I’d like to, but I should get going,” you say absentmindedly. “I have to make it in time to catch the bus.”

You’re looking around, trying to gather your belongings, when you realise how silent Mr Park is. And in turn, you realise what you just said. “You take the bus?” His voice lowers and you stare at the look of concern he has on his face. “It’s practically dark by the time you leave and you’re walking to the bus stop by yourself?”

“Ah– it’s okay! It’s not a far walk, just up the street.” You hurry to defend your choices, waving your hands. “I’ve gotten home safe so far, no?”

Mr Park shakes his head. “No, you can’t take chances. I’ll drive you home tonight after dinner. You must stay.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, but his stance is unwavering. And as much as you would usually protest—being taken home by a much older man would usually ring alarms in your head—the idea of not having to wait in the cold and the dark by yourself is very appealing. And from how you’ve interacted with him before, Mr Park seems very sweet, and you trust him just a little more than you probably should.

“Well, I do thank you for your kindness,” you sigh, nodding your head in concession. “But this will be the only time.”

Mr Park chuckles, not taking you seriously. “We’ll see. Now come on. Tonight is beef stew and my younger brother will come for dinner as well.”

“Uncle Uyu is coming?” You can hear Jihee’s excited voice coming from the kitchen as well as her feet pittering on the floor as she launches herself into your lap. “Hi again, Miss (Y/N).”

“Hello again, Miss Jihee,” you tease, pressing the tip of your finger to her forehead and Jihee giggles.

“Are you staying for dinner?” You nod again and she screeches in happiness, not giving a second glance at how you wince at the sound. “I can’t wait! I have to make you pretty! Come with me.”

With as much seriousness as she can muster in her body, she pulls you by the hand into her room as Mr Park watches the two of you with a soft smile and follows the two of you into Jihee’s room. He takes a seat on the bed as Jihee fusses over your hair, styling it with her toddler's hands and putting an obscene amount of hair clips into it. But you’re whipped for the little girl and you let her do whatever she wants, ending up in two uneven pigtails and a plethora of Hello Kitty clips.

“Daddy, isn’t it pretty?” Jihee giggles, moving your head to tilt so her father can take a look at her work. “It’s better than your hair to practice!”

Mr Park, mock-affronted, holds his hand to his chest. “Betrayed by my own daughter? Alas, but I can let it slide as this may very well be your best work.”

Jihee giggles, pressing her face against your cheek when the doorbell rings. “Uncle Uyu!” As always, her focus is diverted by any new thing and she runs for the door, both you and Mr Park following shortly after. As she yanks the door open, a man around Seonghwa’s age greets her just as excitedly, bending down to pick her up and spin her around.

“Jiji,” he cheers, “Already so big?” His eyes find you and you offer a small wave. “And who’s this? Seonghwa, you found a girl?”

Mr Park’s jaw drops and your eyes widen as you rush to contradict. “Oh, no, no, I’m just the babysitter. Mr Park has kindly invited me for dinner.”

Wooyoung chuckles at the look on both your faces. “Don’t worry, I just like to pull on Seonghwa’s leg. You’re a little young for him too.”

You offer a smile. “Yeah, and the forties are a little out of my age range as well,” you try to joke, but to your surprise, Wooyoung breaks out cackling, startling Jihee who starts laughing with him confusedly. Mr Park’s shocked face has somehow become even more intense.

“You think I’m how old?” Wooyoung has reigned in his laughter although a smile still pulls at his lips. “I’m only thirty-four!”

A gasp made its way out of your mouth as you start bowing rapidly again in apology. “I’m so sorry! You look your age, I just assumed you had to be older.”

Mr Park sighs, although an amused smile now graces his face. “It’s okay, I can understand it. I’ll just be giving you a hard time from now on.” He punctuates with a wink and your eyes snap down to Jihee in embarrassment.

“Let’s get on with dinner so I can go home and just melt in embarrassment, okay?” you groan and the two older men laugh. Jihee seems to agree with your sentiment, declaring her hunger grumpily and you laugh and pick her up. “See, even Jihee’s on my side. Let’s eat now.”

Mr Park hums, stepping aside. “All right, I see I’m outnumbered now. I hope you don’t mind how casual this dinner is, but I promise the food is worth it. Wooyoung’s the better cook, but he’s taught me a few tricks.”

You shrug. “Any food is good food to me. At home, I have instant ramen and fried rice so it’s a nice change.”

Out of disapproval, Mr Park shakes his head although the smile does not leave his face. “I do not miss my college diet. Please, take a seat.” He motions to the dinner table, pulling out a chair for you to seat yourself, sitting beside you as Wooyoung and Jihee join the other side of the table.

“So, tell me about yourself (Y/N),” Wooyoung hums, leaning on the table by his elbows. “You’re in college?”

You shake your head. “I graduated a year and a half ago, I’m twenty-four now, but it feels like just yesterday I was taking my finals,” you chuckle. “What was your major, Mr Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung smiled, “Please, call me Wooyoung. Mr Wooyoung just sounds weird. But to answer your question, my major was culinary, of course. Before I taught Hwa how to cook, he was hopeless. I think I was feeding him and Jihee primarily other than his sandwiches and canned soup.” He sighs, leaning back and smirking at Mr Park whose ears are red.

“Hey, Youngah, I paid you for your work. Don’t make me seem incompetent,” Mr Park snorts, leaning over to smack the back of his neck. “Wooyoung may be eight years younger than me but he certainly acts like he’s five.”

You laugh at the banter. “Me and my siblings were the same way. We’d always fight but in the end, we care for each other. It’s sweet to see you guys act the same.” You smile, taking a bite of your stew. “Thank you for letting me sit in on your family dinner.”

Mr Park shakes his head. “Of course. Can’t let you walk on your own at night, you know. I’d be happy to give you a ride home from now on.”

“Ah, no, I can’t make you do that,” you try and decline again but Seonghwa is having none of that.

“It’s not a matter of making me, I offered. I can’t let my babysitter just stand around in the dark. Let me do this for you. Jihee cares for you, she wouldn’t want to make you get hurt.”

You frown, pursing your lips. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you concede. “Thank you once again.”

Mr Park shakes his head, his hand moving up to ruffle your hair. “Don’t worry about it.” His hand rests atop your head a moment longer before he remembers who he is in relation to you. “Ah, sorry. Habit from Jihee.”

The heartfelt moment is cut loose by everyone amused at Mr Park’s habit. Jihee immediately takes the initiative to start rambling about stickers, engrossing everyone in the conversation, Wooyoung being particularly vocal. The dinner is finished with no other events, and you offer to help clean up, ignoring Mr Park when he tries to protest.

“Thank you for helping out,” he tries to thank you but you wave your hand dismissively.

“You fed me and are driving me home. It’s the least I could do. Shall we head out though? I don’t want you to have to leave Jihee for too long.”

Mr Park nods, grabbing his keys and jangling them as he opens the door to the garage. You do your best to not show your surprise at the sight of his fancy car. Of course, you knew he was well off, but you never imagined you’d actually be sitting in his car. He even opens the door for you, letting you slide into the passenger seat.

You hold yourself stiffly, but Mr Park looks over and just laughs at you. “Relax, I’m not going to bite you. Just let me know where to go and we’ll be set. Want a piece of gum?”

He holds out a pack of gum and you gladly take the piece, happy for the distraction. Most of the car ride is silent, except for you telling him occasionally where to go. But as he pulls up to your street, he slows to a crawl.

“You know, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around.me. Sure, I’m your employer, but I’m also a dad. I got the dad instinct, you know?” Your lips twitch at his attempt to be comforting. “Really, though. Don’t hold yourself so tight around me. I don’t mind doing this for you.”

You turn your eyes down. “Thank you. I’ll try, it’s just a little weird for me if you understand. But I do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” As you unbuckle your seatbelt, you smile at Mr Park. “I hope you have a good night.”

As you go to your apartment building, Mr Park leans out of his car and calls after you. “You can call me Seonghwa, (Y/N). Mr Park makes me feel old.”

You laugh at his admission. “We’ll see, grandpa!” You can’t help but tease him before running into your home, leaving an amused Seonghwa outside.

These days you and Seonghwa have become a lot more friendly. He’s taken to driving you home despite your protests and during the car rides, some interesting conversations have happened. For example, you learnt that he built his company from the ground and yet is respected in many old money circles.

Okay, maybe you didn’t learn that from a conversation, and instead just searched on the internet. But what can you say? You’re curious about the man who happens to be your charge’s father and the man who happens to be very very handsome.

Maybe you have a bit of a crush on Seonghwa, but you couldn’t blame yourself. There was something about him. It is the aura he holds himself with, the kindness in his smile when he arrives home, and it helps that he is hot. Every so often, you can’t help but find yourself glancing at his pretty hands, or his well-toned arms, and you have to look away before heat spreads up to your ears.

You’re down bad, and it’s not getting any better. Every time you see Seonghwa, you want to jump him but it would be inappropriate. Not only is he your employer, but he’s also a decade older than you. There’s no way he would be interested in you, he probably sees you just as some kid.

With a sigh, you look down at your sketchbook. Today was supposed to be a fun day. Both Jihee and Seonghwa were off today, so you were spending the day with her as Seonghwa was still called into the office to put in some extra hours. But then the toddler fell sick and you were tasked with taking care of her.

At least it was a fairly easy job—Jihee slept most of the day and you were free to work on some of your more personal projects. Although your passion lies in children, you do enjoy drawing and even took a couple of classes in college. As you lay on the couch sketching, you get so lost in your mind you don’t even register the door opening and the footsteps coming towards you.

“Is that me?”

A shriek rips its way out of your throat as you do your best to whirl around and hold your drawings to your chest, but your legs get caught in the blanket and you instead fall half off the couch to the ground. Your chin props your head up on the ground but your legs are still tangled on the couch, your arms twisted into the blanket, the sketchbook an arm’s reach away.

“Hi, Mr– Seonghwa. How was work today?” you mumble half into the carpet, too embarrassed to look up. “Jihee’s taking a nap in her room.”

After a moment of silence, Seonghwa laughs, although it’s a little pained. “Uh. Do you need help up?”

You groan, pulling one of your arms out from your cocoon prison. “That would be great, thanks. Sorry.”

One of his cool hands gently takes your elbow as another comes to rest on your back. It’s at the moment you realise your shirt has ridden up. You can’t help but tense at the touch, hoping the embarrassment doesn’t show on your face. “Jihee’s taking a nap?”

You’re grateful he chose to brush over the incident. “Yeah– yeah. She’s not much better, but she’s not much worse. It’s just a simple cold, so she needs to sleep it off.” You chose to ignore the hand lingering on the small of your back, instead scooching back on your butt to distance yourself just a little bit. He’s your employer, there’s no way you can give in to your feelings.

But the couch seems to be against your plans, as when you try to pull the blankets off your feet you tumble into Seonghwa’s legs, knocking him down as you land on his firm chest. Your face is mere centimetres away from his and you freeze. “I–” you stammer out, Seonghwa equally as awkward.

“Sorry–” He tries to sit up, but it just results in the blankets twisting tighter and pulling you two even closer together. You swear if you could hold your breath, you could feel and hear his heart beating. “Ah, shit.”

You can’t help but laugh a little at his profanity, not something you’ve ever expected to hear from him. “Welcome back, Seonghwa.”

Seognhwa’s eyes widen, his blush deepens, and his head snaps away from you. Your brows furrow at the change in his features and you can’t help but wonder if it’s from the proximity, or if it’s the proximity to you specifically. “Ah. Let’s get out of this, shall we?” he coughs. He carefully detangles himself from the pile and holds out a hand to you.

You grasp it, noting his firm grip and letting him pull you up. “Thanks.”

“I’ll drive you back to your apartment first since Jihee’s asleep right now. It won’t take long.” While Seonghwa’s voice remains warm, his eyes move away from you.

Suddenly a guilty feeling pools in your stomach and you turn away as well, bending to pick up your sketchbook silently. “Of course.” The disappointment fills your head as you internally admonish yourself for even trying to entertain your fantasies of the older man.

But, to your surprise, a warm hand pats you on your shoulder. “You are good at art, (Y/N). You should continue to pursue and practice it, even as just a hobby.” His words make you look up into his eyes and you see a sparkle behind them. “You’re a talented person, and you should take advantage of it.”

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him again. “Once again, I appreciate the kindness you offer me.”

Seonghwa chuckles, spinning the car keys as you’ve quickly found out is his habit. “(Y/N), thank you for putting up with such an old man who can offer you nothing but kindness.”

You snort. “You’re not even that old, you geezer.” In retaliation, Seonghwa leans over and pokes you in the forehead.

“Oh, hush and let me take you home.”

It’s been almost six months since that day and your feelings have only intensified. But this time, you swear perhaps he may be returning your feelings too. Sometimes you catch him looking at you with a gentle smile, and his hand on your shoulder lingers a little longer than you think. But then he talks to an employee on the phone and you remember how accomplished he is. Even if he wasn’t much older than you, there’s no way you would fit into his lifestyle.

And, like any self-respecting person would do, you start to avoid him. What else are you going to do? Tell him? You’d be crazy to even entertain the thought. There’s no way he would even take you seriously.

These days you’ve just been going to work, and heading straight home. Seonghwa barely has time to catch you, and you’ve been plotting with Jihee to keep him away. She doesn’t quite understand why, but it’s fun to her so she’s happy to. You’re pretty sure half your wallet has gone to sticker sheets. But no matter how many stickers you’ve bought, it doesn’t help Seonghwa from figuring out something is amiss.

It’s your one day off and you’re spending it at home, lounging around and just watching movies while you sulk about your tangled feelings. Watching all these romantic movies doesn’t help at all and you groan. There’s no way you’re going to act like a lonely teenager, you declare to yourself. You’ll go to a club! Maybe meet someone closer to your age and you won’t feel like a wet sock anymore.

That’s it, you’ve convinced yourself. You’ll give yourself a night out. Suddenly inspired, you throw off the blankets covering you and start donning your nicest clothes. There’s a club you used to frequent in your college days, and you haven’t been back since you got the new job. It’d be nice to let loose again.

As the nighttime approaches, you’re almost all ready to go. You have your outfit and your makeup, and all you need is your shoes. Once you pick out your favourite pair of heels (comfy and not too high), you make your way down. You can feel the excitement pounding out of your chest and you can’t wait to get the night started.

As you enter the club, your body immediately relaxes as you take in the atmosphere. It’s been so long, you’re just excited to have fun. Get drunk, find a nice guy, and forget your problems. You down drink after drink, hyping yourself up, but as late night comes, nothing happens. With a sigh, you plunk down your last drink, feeling the buzz of the alcohol burn in your veins.

Nothing will happen tonight, and you just have to come to terms with it. You place down a couple of bills to pay off your tab, tip, and stumble out of the bar. You’re plastered. You can hardly walk in a straight line and you lean against the cool brick for a minute, letting the sensation sober you up a bit as you do your best to call up a taxi.

But before you can do so, a hand creeps onto your bare waist and your head snaps up to see a man, no younger than fifty, leering at you. “Uh, hi?” you slur out, your hands fiddling with your phone as you try and discreetly move to the phone app. You may be plastered, but you’re not a fool and you know what could happen in this situation.

Unfortunately, the old man seems to know what you’re trying and he grabs one of your wrists. “Now, pretty lady, take a break there. Why don’t you come hang out with me for a bit?” His words are greasy and slimy, and you almost gag at the idea of what he’s insinuating. At least Seonghwa isn’t triple your age…and he’s hot.

“Ah, no thanks,” you manage to push past him, pressing your most recent contact and holding the phone to your ear. “I’m a little uh…” You’re cut off when whoever you call starts speaking.

“(Y/N)? Why are you calling me? It’s nine.” Seonghwa’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, shit,” you groan, stumbling to your side and colliding with the wall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you. I’m just out and–”

Once again, the old man approaches you and pulls you back by the waist. “Come on, pretty. Get off the phone and pay attention to me.”

You shake your head and pull away again, moving even more down the street. “No, no, I’m not– just leave me alone. I want to go home,” you say, shaking your head, still holding the phone to your face. “Just…I wanna go home.”

“(Y/N), are you okay? Where are you?” You can hear the worry in Seonghwa’s voice rise and a faint jingling of keys. “I’m going to get you. Wooyoung’s here so he can watch Jihee. Talk to me, (Y/N).”

“I’m at the club Desire. Or near it. I don’t know.” Your head is muddled and no matter where you look, the street signs are blurring and the old man is still trying to get your attention. “I just want to go home,” you repeat, tears springing to your eyes. “I thought I told you to leave me alone!”

The old man growls at your tone, grabbing at you again. “Don’t be stupid, child. You can come home with me and I’ll teach you how to be proper for a man like you.” His breath reeks of alcohol and bad breath and you instinctively slap him across the face. Surprised, he jerks back, and you take a couple of shaky steps back again.

“Leave me be! I don’t want you near me.”

The old man’s eyes narrow at you and he takes one menacing step forward, his hand raising to strike you but you bring up your arms to block the slap, whimpering in pain when the hit lands and your phone clatters out of your hand. “You insolent child!” Your eyes squeeze shut and you hope Seonghwa gets there soon.

Seonghwa has never driven so fast in his life. He’s racing through the lights and he counts his lucky stars that they’re all green and that the police aren’t around right now. He can hear arguing coming from his phone and he’s calm enough knowing you’re at least still on the phone. But then he hears a noise and what he assumes to be your phone falling on the ground. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “Please, please be okay, (Y/N).”

Stepping on the gas, he roars around the corner to the club you mentioned, praying you’re still there. As he gets out, he’s looking around but can’t seem to find you. “(Y/N)?” he calls out. “Where are you?”

He races down the street to find you pinned against the wall, your hands attempting to push an old geezer away and he sees red. He marches right up, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from your shaking figure. “Fuck off,” he growls in his face, delighting in the fear that moves across his face. “Don’t let me catch you near this place again. Now fuck off!”

He practically throws the old man to his knees before turning and cupping your face. “Seonghwa,” you practically sob. He can still see the drunken haze in your eyes but it’s almost completely cleared up now and his brow furrows even more.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulls you along and you do your best to keep up with him in your inebriated state. “I can’t believe you would do this! Have you no sense of security? Why didn’t you get anyone to come with you? Why would you call a taxi outside of the establishment?”

He still opens the car door for you and you slide immediately in, eyes staring wide at the pristine dashboard. He slides in and puts the car in the ignition before sitting back and groaning in frustration. “I hope you’re ready to talk as soon as we get inside,” he gripes. “I still am so shocked, (Y/N). You act so mature about Jihee, but what happened then? You could’ve been hurt…no, you were hurt!”

He continues his rant driving up to your street, ushering you into the elevator and into your place. “Do you know how my heart dropped when I saw you struggling? I don’t want to see you hurt. You need to take care of yourself.”

As he yells at you, his eyes rake over you to see if you’re injured any further, but something else stops him and the words die in his throat. You’re wearing a sheer shirt, your lacy bra underneath just showing off your chest. Your leather skirt has ridden up your thighs and your eyes fill with unshed tears. And something burns in his brain.

It’s been months since he hired you, and with each passing day, he finds himself more and more attracted to you. He berated himself every time these unwanted thoughts popped into his head. Sure, you’re sweet, good with kids, and are passionate about what you care about. But you’re also so young. You can do so much better than him, a single father with no prospects.

But seeing you like this, heat sparks in his gut and he leans in, his face mere inches away from yours. “When you wear things like that, it makes me want to rip them off you and do things even that creep couldn’t even imagine,” his low voice pierces through your thoughts and your mouth gapes open.

“I’m okay with that,” you whisper, hand reaching out to brush against his chest, but Seonghwa blinks as he realises what he just tried to do, and he jerks back. Your eyes flash with hurt and Seonghwa would like to hit himself for doing that to you but he can’t let you come onto him when you’re still drunk.

“I– I’m sorry,” you whisper, your hands reaching behind you to steady yourself on the wall. “I just felt so lonely. I wanted to be wanted.”

Seonghwa’s breath stutters as he stares down into your wavering eyes. “I–” He wants you so bad. But he can’t bring himself to say it. Not when you’re drunk. “Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He turns away and hears your disappointed sigh alongside your footsteps trudging to your bedroom. With a groan, he sits on the couch with his head in his hands. He wants to reassure you, but he can’t help but feel guilty about it. But he’s still straining in his pants and after locating your bathroom, he sits on the shower bench, leaning against the cool tile and breathing in and out. With a groan, he unzips his pants and pulls out his half-hard cock. The feeling of regret rises but he pushes it down to his gut as he spits in his hand and presses his thumb against the head of his dick.

As he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it, he can’t help but close his eyes and imagine you. You with your mouth wrapped around his cock, with your hands gripping his thighs. You seated on his throbbing member, grinding your hips against him as you lean down to kiss him. He can feel his dick jump and he wonders what it’ll feel like to fill you with his cum.

He lets out a broken moan as his grip turns tighter. His image of you would scratch your nails down his back. He can almost hear your little whines and breathy moans as your hips work over him. You’d lean in and whisper into his mouth, “Seonghwa, fuck me hard,” and—

Seonghwa sighs as he looks down at his cum-coated hand and the mix of shame and relief swirling around his brain. Maybe he should just go to sleep on the couch and hope he doesn’t dream of you. As he washes his hand and goes to lie down, he can already feel a stress headache coming on. He hopes you’ll at least fare better in the morning.

When you awaken, you have a throbbing pain in your head and you groan and roll out of bed. You’ve taken your club shirt off as well as your skirt, but your bra and underpants are still on. You’re sure your makeup is smudged too and you have no clue how you got home but all you want is some coffee and oatmeal.

You trudge to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes from sleep. There’s a blanket fallen on the floor so you toss it onto the couch and head straight into the kitchen to start your coffee maker. As you lean against the counter and yawn.

“(Y/N), are you feeling better?”

A voice calls out from behind you and you shriek, whirling around to see a sleepy Seonghwa, blanket wrapped around him and his hair a mess. You shriek again, realising how little you’re clothed and duck behind the counter, your cheeks flaming and your heart beating faster than you ever thought it could.

“What are you doing here?” you force out, your voice tight.

“Do…do you not remember last night at all?” You do remember most of what happened. He took you home, but that’s about as far as you remember. And you’re not sure you want to know the rest of it. But you’re far too embarrassed to admit, so you put your acting skills to use. You’re not sure you can handle the shame of a real conversation.

“What?” you ask, forcing your voice to pitch higher as you slowly stand back up, hands covering your chest. “I didn’t– Oh my God, I’m so sorry if I came onto you. I was drunk, I must’ve been out of my mind. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

You notice Seonghwa’s eyes trail down to your chest and then snap back up to your face as if he’s forcing himself to and he chokes out a breath. Despite the headache, your mouth twitches. Maybe you’re still a little out of it. “No, nothing like that. I fetched you from the club because you called me to save you from a creep. Then I took you home and we slept.”

You sigh. “I’m glad. I do apologise for whatever my behaviour was. It was out of line and it won’t happen again. I understand if you want to let me go–”

“No!” Seonghwa’s outburst surprises you and your eyes widen. The lack of clothes you’re wearing has been long forgotten and you move around the counter to stand in front of him. Seonghwa has the decency to look a little embarrassed at the volume of his voice. “Sorry. I just…it’s like you’re a part of our family already. I care for you just as much as I care for Jihee.”

Ah. He thinks of you like a child. Your suspicions were right. You turn slightly to face away from him, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “I see. Well, I appreciate that. It’s nice to have a second family,” you chuckle, internally beating yourself up. How could you even entertain the thought of the two of you being together? “Let me change, and I’ll walk you out.”

As you return to your room, you finally let your heart sink as tears brim in your eyes. You hastily wipe them away as you rummage in the pile of clothes on your bed for something fairly appropriate to wear. First, you make a fool of yourself in front of Seonghwa, and then your crush is unfounded. You can’t seem to catch a break.

With a sigh, you pull on some shorts and a large shirt before heading back out. “Hey, (Y/N), could we talk first?” Seonghwa asks, still standing in between the kitchen and the living room as his eyes flit around nervously.

After some hesitation, you finally find your voice. “Sure? What’s up? You can sit on the couch if you want.”

Seonghwa takes a seat, hiking up his sweatpants and you move to the floor across the little coffee table. “Last night…you told me something.” Oh no. This is it. You bite your lower lip and look down, awaiting his next words. “Uh. So. You think you came onto me, right? Well. It was. Uh. It may have been me.”

You blink at him foolishly as your brain tries to wrap itself around your head. “You what?”

Seonghwa raises his hands and lowers his head ashamedly. “Let me explain, please. I saw you outside with that horrid excuse of a human and something in me snapped. I just wanted to protect you and I brought you home. But seeing you in that outfit? It just made me want you. And I told you. And you reciprocated. At least, you tried to.” He chuckles a little to himself, bringing up his hand to grip at his hair. “I told you we would talk in the morning. But one thing you said stuck with me. You wanted to be wanted. And all night I’ve been thinking about it. (Y/N), you were drunk. But you weren’t that drunk. Something you said had truth to it. Please. For my own sanity, tell me how you feel about me. Please.”

His voice cracks at the last syllable and something in your heart hurts at the sound. “Seonghwa I…I do care for you. More than I should. You’ve shown me unbendable compassion and you’ve never taken my words or myself for granted…or treated me like a child. Against my better judgment, I’ve fallen for you.” You sigh, tightening your fists. “I’ve been hating myself for the better part of six months because of it. You were so much better than me. In job, in maturity. What was I supposed to do? I went to the club to forget you, but it appears that didn’t work.”

Seonghwa stands quickly, shuffling over to kneel in front of you. “How could you think such a thing? Me better than you? Don’t make me laugh. I may be older than you, and yes, I have a better-paying job. But in the end, how could you compare? You’re amazing with Jihee. You’ve managed to teach her in ways I could hardly hope to imagine. And just because I have a higher wage doesn’t mean your job is less important. I wasn’t lying when I said it felt like you were already part of the family.”

“You told me you thought of me like Jihee,” you argue, and Seonghwa laughs, leaning forward to take your hands.

“I said I care for you as much as I care for Jihee. Not in the same way, (Y/N).” Seonghwa smiles kindly. “I know if this does happen we’ll need to put a lot of care into this, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to be with you.”

You’re not sure whether this is a dream or not, staring up at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You’d be a fool if you said no, but the worries in your head won’t seem to cease. Taking a deep breath, you push them aside and smile up at him. “I’ll have you, Seonghwa.”

As soon as the words fall out of your mouth you can see Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and leans in, his nose almost touching yours. “May I kiss you?” he murmurs in his deep voice, and instead of gracing him with a reply, you meet him in a soft kiss.

His large hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss, and his thumbs brush against your cheekbones. “You’re so pretty,” he hums, pressing a multitude of pecks to your lips. “Last night I was so conflicted. Seeing you like that made me almost go insane.”

An idea sparks in your brain, and a smile widens on your face. Your fingers crawl up his shoulders to rest your arms on them. “How insane?” you ask, and Seonghwa’s eyes darken.

“I’ll show you,” he grows before capturing your lips with his once again. This time his arms shift to wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer until you’re practically pressed against his body. You squeak at the sudden movement but it’s swallowed by the kiss.

He pulls you onto his lap and you can feel the growing hardness in his slacks. You wriggle your hips a little, grinding down, and the moan that Seonghwa lets out is heaven to your ears. “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so pretty,” he repeats, burying his face in your neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You whine at the pain blooming into pleasure and your hands fist into his hair. Your precious sounds get to Seonghwa and he groans, moving your legs to wrap around his waist and he hoists you up and brings you over to the couch. “Your noises are so pretty, baby,” Seonghwa groans into your mouth. “Can’t wait to hear them when you’re wrapped around my cock.”

“Please–” is all you can muster out and your whines only serve to make Seonghwa’s cock harder in his pants.

With a groan, he pats your ass, motioning for you to move up. As soon as your hips lift, he grabs the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down to your knees, leaving your underwear and shirt on. In the same motion, he shoves his slacks and boxers down just far enough to let his cock spring free.

“Seonghwa–” you whine and something in Seonghwa’s stomach burns at the idea of you crying on his throbbing dick. He sits back, guiding you to sit right above his cock as he moves it to rub against your soaked underwear. Every time the angry-red tip of it brushes against your clit you let out breathy moans and it only serves to make Seonghwa impossibly harder.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Seonghwa breathes, his free hand coming up to brush against your face. A smile blooms on your face as you bend to kiss him again.

“Then don’t.”

Something flips in Seonghwa’s brain and he lifts you, pushes your underwear to the side, and lets his cock press into you slowly. The both of you throw your head back and groan loudly at the feeling of him slowly filling you up. He’s not the biggest you’ve had but that doesn’t matter as the sting of the stretch is enough to make you drool. You can hardly speak as you whine nonsense into his ear and let your head drop to the crook of his neck.

“You fit around me so well,” Seonghwa praises, his head spinning at the feeling of finally fucking you the way he dreamed of. It was only yesterday he was fucking into his hand at the thought of you and here he is, only a few hours later, his painfully hard member inside of you. “Look at you, a mess for me. Bet you’ve never been with an older man before. Do I make you feel good, baby?”

You clench at his words. “Fuck, yes, the best I’ve had,” you babble, squirming at the already overwhelming feeling. “You’re so good to me.”

Seonghwa laughs delightedly at how gone you seem to be not five minutes in. “So precious, especially for me, (Y/N). Sitting on my dick so prettily.” He gives a little experimental thrust upwards and you gasp. The noises you make are so addictive, he can’t help but do it again. And again.

You’re panting, moaning as he fills you up so deliciously and your hands grip at his now-wrinkled dress shirt. His cool hands slide up your baggy shirt to shove up your bra and cup your boobs. The weight of them sitting in his hands makes him groan as he leans in to mouth at them through your shirt.

“Been dreaming about these tits since last night. Jerked off in the bathroom after seeing you, you know?” Your eyes widen at the admission and Seonghwa smirks at how embarrassed you look. “Wanted you so bad and you thought I wouldn’t like you in that way? You’re so cute, (Y/N).” He punctuates each word with one thrust after another.

The feeling of his dick pumping into you as well as Seonghwa’s teeth scraping against the soft flesh of your tits makes you so overwhelmed. It’s almost embarrassing how close you are already, and Seonghwa knows it, chucking up at you from between your chest. “Aw, baby, you’re so far gone. Am I that good?”

You cry out and sink your teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck. You’re trying so hard to keep your noises down but Seonghwa isn’t having any of that. His hand finds its way to your hair, gently tugging on it until your head falls back, exposing the column of your neck.

As his warm breath ghosts over it, you stiffen, and when he moves up from your chest to lick a stripe up it and nip at your earlobe, you come with a groan. Your hips are shaking from the intensity of it but his thrusts don’t stop and soon you’re whining from the overstimulation.

And he still hasn’t come.

“Fuck, Seonghwa, it’s so much,” you groan, mouth hanging open. Seonghwa greedily swoops in to capture your lips once more, licking into your mouth as his thrusts become more and more erratic.

His dick twitches and he groans. “Where do you want me? I’m clean,” Seonghwa mumbles into your mouth.

You shift your hips a little. “I’m clean too and on the pill, so it’s on you. I don’t care, I just want you, Hwa.”

Your words spark something in Seonghwa and he thrusts upwards, once, and his cum starts filling you. It’s searingly hot, settling deep in your gut and you throw your head back and moan so goddamn loud. His throbbing cock is twitching like crazy and it’s still pumping cum into you. Seonghwa’s hand slides down your body to tweak at your nipples, thumb over your flesh, and finally come to rub little circles into your clit.

You gasp and it feels like you’re touching heaven from the extra stimulation. “Gonna fill you up so well,” Seonghwa groans. “Do you think Jihee would like a sibling?”

Your thoughts all blur together at his sentence and you come again with a groan. Your cunt squeezes around him so deliciously and a sob breaks its way out of your throat, one that Seonghwa eagerly swallows as he kisses you again.

His thrusts start to slow down and you slowly pull off his now-softening dick and settle back down on his lap. His hands push his leaking cum back into your pulsating pussy and you sigh at the feeling.

“Well, that was quite the escalation,” Seonghwa laughs quietly as he pulls both your and his pants back up and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. His hand pats your butt and you squirm and slap his chest softly.

“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly and Seonghwa hums, capturing your lips in his yet again. He can’t get enough of your plush lips and you’re not complaining at all.

“I’m lucky to have you, period,” he sighs happily. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smile and sit up, ignoring the whines that come out of Seonghwa’s mouth at the lack of contact. “Well, I couldn’t let you be a lonely old man,” you tease and Seonghwa smacks your ass again.

“Can old man do what I just did?” You’re suddenly lying on your back with Seonghwa hovering over you, a crooked smile growing on his face. “Or do you need another demonstration?”

You smile and throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. “I don’t know, sir, maybe you should show me once more.”

With a nip to your lips, Seonghwa leans in and your eyes crinkle at the promise of what’s to come.

#kvanity #pirateeznet #wkcnet #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa smut #seonghwa angst

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nateezfics · 15 days

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THINGS ATEEZ SAY IN BED: SEONGHWA

↳ things ateez say during sex. seonghwa version.

↳ warning: smut, dirty/sexual language

• “pretty, pretty, pretty.”

• “oh? does that feel good?”

• “sshh, baby. i’m here. you’re doing so good for me.”

• “you’re so lovely when you’re stuffed full of me.”

• “c’mon, baby. i need you to use your words. you need say exactly what you want or else i can’t give it to you.”

• “you’ve made such a mess. what am i gonna do with you?”

• “you can give me more, right? yeah, you can.”

• “you want me to be more rough? oh you’re so dirty.”

• “please, sit on my face. yeah, i mean sit on it.”

• “and i’ve been so nice to you. don’t act like that unless you want me to punish you.”

• “my pretty baby has such a foul little mouth.”

• “take it, baby. mmh, there you go. just like that.”

• “look at you, so messy and fucked out. of course, i’ll clean my baby up.”

• “baby, this is my last warning. behave.”

• “oh, i think you want me to punish you, don’t you?”

• “uh uh. not yet.”

• “beg for it, baby. let me hear you beg.”

• “keep going, i like to hear how much you want me.”

• “oh you’re so wet. and it’s all for me.”

• “i just can’t get enough of you, baby. you’re so perfect.”

ATHOR’S NOTES — seonghwa’s version!! of course, yunho’s will be up next!

ALL FICS ARE THE ORIGINAL IDEAS AND WRITTEN WORKS OF NATEEZFICS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. REPOSTING WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR NATEEZFICS IS PROHIBITED!

#ateez smut #seonghwa smut #ateez smut drabbles #seonghwa smut drabbles #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez fanfiction #seonghwa fanfiction #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

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daddyfordaeddy · 1 month

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Pairing: king! Seonghwa x queen! f! yn

Word Count: 2804

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, royal au, M for mature audiences

Summary: Your marriage to Seonghwa has been nothing exciting. But things change during his coronation ball.

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), some praise, slight begging, pretty vanilla if i do say so myself lol

Written for @cultofdionysusnet's permanent event <3 took me a bit to get it down lol, and a big thank you to @arafilez and @sanjoongie for helping me out <3 i really wrote 1.5k prologue before getting to the smut and u can tell it got to me since the smut is very storybook like and not just filth lol

AND yes i know the irony of having a red themed banner when the title is blue blood but hey man i...have no excuse

Your palms are sweaty. It’s the first ball the royal family has hosted since your marriage to the then-Crown Prince, Park Seonghwa. And it’s the first social gathering you’ve attended since. You’re pretty sure the maids can see how nervous you are and you’re grateful the wine-red gown you’ve adorned for the occasion will cover any sweat marks or wrinkles you’re sure you will make.

You cannot even politely decline this event—not when it’s marking the start of your husband’s reign as king.

As the maids layer one last necklace, you shiver at the feeling of the cool metal touching your skin. The sparks flickering inside the red jewel catch your eye and you brush your fingers against it with a bittersweet smile. It was a wedding gift from your husband, the Park family blessed with fire magic. You find it ironic that such a cold-faced family can have control over such warm and bright magic, as well as red being their crest colour.

You don’t hate Seonghwa, of course. He’s been respectful to you, only speaking to you when necessary and otherwise leaving you be. The two of you share different, albeit connected, chambers, and he never enters your room without permission on the rare occasion he needs to.

But God, you wish he would at least smile at you so you don’t feel like a piece of furniture in your new home. While high up in nobility as the daughter of an Earl, you were no duchess and you were sure if you attended social teas you would be scrutinised. So you stick with counselling the civilians who cannot win an audience with Seonghwa and managing the household.

With another sigh, you send the servants away to gather your wits before meeting your husband in the foyer. You squeeze your eyes shut, breathing deep, before moving to pour yourself a small glass of wine.

As you down the bitter liquid, a knock sounds at the door. “YN, are you in there?” The honey-deep voice of your husband makes you jump a little.

“Ah, yes, I’m coming,” you call out, setting down the crystal glass and opening the door to see your husband standing just a bit too close to the door. You’re met with a faceful of his chest and you stumble back. “Ah–”

A firm hand wraps around your waist to keep you from tripping on your skirt and you can see the faint amusement on Seonghwa’s face. “Now, now, we can’t have you falling even before the dancing starts,” he chuckles, and you stare at him, unused to such a cheerful demeanour from him. His lips twitch as he holds back his smile. “Are you all right, my wife? You look a little befuddled.”

You blink up at him owlishly before realising how you must look and quickly turning your face away. “I’m all right. Shall we go down, then?”

Seonghwa chuckles low in his throat. His hand reaches up and brushes a few strands of your hair out of your eyes. His touch is soft and you involuntarily find yourself melting just a little. “Yes, let’s go and show off my beautiful wife.”

You laugh at that, pushing him away playfully. “This night isn’t about me, it’s about you…my king.”

Seonghwa coughs when you use his new title and it’s his turn to face away from you, although you can see his ears are red. “Yes, well. Let’s get going then. We can’t keep our guests waiting.” He offers up his arm for you to take, and you gingerly rest your hands on him with a small smile, keeping your eyes lowered.

Thankfully the distance from your rooms to the foyer isn’t far as the walk there is awkwardly silent. But as soon as you enter and all eyes are on you two, it’s like a button is pressed that makes you immediately at ease and you intermingle easily with your guests. Waiters are milling about serving a selection of wines, and you drink just a tad more than you ought.

It’s nice to mingle with the courtesans and landowners like you used to, and you make a mental note to start attending tea again. You were anxious about them for nothing—they’ve known you since before you were the queen so they aren’t forming any new opinions of you.

Giggling, you weave your way around the crowd until you bump into a firm back. “Hello, my wife,” Seonghwa hums, holding you steady with amusement dancing behind his dark eyes. “I see you’re enjoying yourself.”

You blame the lingering burn of alcohol in your veins for the following actions. You lean onto his shoulder, a dazed smile pulling at your lips as you look up at your husband. “I am, Hwa.” The nickname tumbles naturally from your lips without a second thought although Seonghwa’s eyes widen for a split second. “Are you enjoying yourself too?”

“I’ll excuse myself, you spend time with your wife.” You hardly even register the minister of defence’s words as you wrap an arm around Seonghwa’s waist and press a kiss to the shoulder of his uniform. “Congratulations on your ascent to the throne, your majesty.”

Seonghwa bows as best he can with you attached to him before turning to you to place both his hands on your shoulders. “Do you need to go to bed? The party is slowing down a bit so you can if you’d like.”

You shake your head, subconsciously pouting. “No, I wanna wait for you first.” Your head leans against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat pick up slightly.

“...Alright. Let’s close this up nicely, YN.”

You don’t really know what’s happening, but you smile and farewell the last stragglers as the time passes. The alcohol is almost out of your system, but you stay close to Seonghwa, not ready to let him go quite yet. His arm around your waist makes your heart flutter and you look up at him as he waves away the last guest.

“Why are you staring at me?” he murmurs without even looking down and you chuckle to yourself, gaze unwavering.

“I like you, Hwa.”

It feels like time stands still as soon as the words fall from your mouth. Seonghwa’s eyes find your own and neither of you move for a long second. “...Are you still drunk?” You would find his question offensive, but his tone is hopeful so you can’t find it in your heart to.

“No, not for this,” you shake your hair and before he can stop himself, Seonghwa brushes your hair out of your face again. “I’m not in love, not yet. But I can safely say I like you. Especially if you keep touching me like this.”

Something must have overcome Seonghwa in that moment because he leans in and his grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. “Well, in that case. I like you too. And I could touch you a lot more if you’d let me.” He practically whispers the last sentence, his lips almost ghosting over yours.

You blink at him, a mirror to just before the party, and a smile grows on your face. “I’d let you.”

Seonghwa straightens up immediately, a light blush dusting his cheeks and he calls over one of the servants and whispers something to them. When the servant nods and hurries off, Seonghwa turns back to you, a wolfish grin growing on his face. “Shall we head back to our chambers, my wife?”

Heat slowly crawls over your face as you nod eagerly and Seonghwa chuckles and cups your face tenderly, placing a kiss on your forehead before taking your wrist and leading you up the flights of stairs in the next breath.

The two of you burst into his room giggling and hands clasped. Seonghwa kicks the door closed and pulls you into his arms, his face buried in your hair as he breathes in your scent. “...You’re sure you’re not drunk?”

His voice is small, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it. Wriggling your way out of his grasp, you bring his slender hands to your lips and press a light kiss to the tips of his fingers. “I’m absolutely sure, my king.”

Seonghwa lets out another deep breath, stepping closer and leaning down to gently press his lips against yours. You taste of bitter wine, but he seems to enjoy it, brushing his tongue over the seam of your lips and you eagerly grant access. The two of you deepen the kiss as he slowly backs you to his bed. When your knees touch the mattress Seonghwa breaks away, his lips swollen and spit slicked.

“Strip?” he asks, his voice gravelly and your thighs clench at the sound of it. You reach behind you, attempting to reach the fasteners but failing. Seonghwa chuckles, spinning you around. “You’re so pretty, YN. I’m glad I get to share my life with you.” His hand rests on your shoulder blade as he undoes each clasp with his other hand.

Suddenly, his lips touch your shoulder bone and you gasp at the soft feeling. “Hwa–”

“I’d like to bend you over right now, but you’re too precious to be taken so roughly on our first time. I want to cherish you like the queen you are.” Seonghwa mouths at your hot skin, his hands moving up and down your sides as your dress falls to the floor, leaving you in your undergarments.

Your hands instinctively come up to cover yourself but Seonghwa’s reflexes are faster than yours and he grabs your wrists, holding you in place. “Don’t cover up, my wife,” he whispers, leaning up to kiss you sweetly. “Let me love you like you deserve.”

You look at him with wide eyes, before nodding the tiniest bit. Seonghwa isn’t satisfied, an eyebrow raising, and you squeak out a quiet “yes”. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, his mouth is reattached to your neck and his hips grind down onto your hip and you can feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh.

“Hwa, please,” you whine, feeling a burning in your core.

“Mmh, love it when you call me that,” Seonghwa murmurs, his hand coming down to unfasten his pants and shoving them down enough to free his cock. “There’s something about you that’s so fucking alluring. All I can think about is fucking you so well all you can do is think about me just as much as I do with you.”

He shifts, adjusting himself so he can grind his cock against your dripping folds and kiss you at the same time. The softness of his lips makes you smile and you throw your arms around him to bring him closer to you. For a moment, both of you are too caught up in your kiss, but then the tip of his dick gets caught in your fluttering hole and you moan into his mouth.

“Gods–” Seonghwa groans, hips stilling. You can feel every time his dick twitches inside of you. “Are you ready? Please–” The last word falls from his lips in a whisper, as if he’s almost embarrassed to beg.

Instead of a response, you hook your legs around his waist and pull his hips flush against you, immediately driving his cock deep inside you. You throw your head back at the feeling of it spearing into you, Seonghwa dropping his head to rest against your chest. “Fuck, you’re so– so perfect for me,” he stutters out, his voice low and heavy with lust. “Want to stay like this forever.”

“Less talking,” you order, twisting your hips to try and get him impossibly deeper inside of you. A crooked smile pulls at Seonghwa’s lips, and before you can say anything else, he pulls back and starts hammering into you like it’s his last day in the kingdom.

You can hardly get words out, only whines and mumbles, his cock reaching so deep inside of you. With every thrust, he hits that perfect spot inside of you and your hands dig into the thick fabric of his uniform top. “Ah– Seonghwa, you’re splitting me apart so good,” you moan, breath hot on his neck.

You swear your guts will be rearranged after this, his thick cock stretching you so perfectly. With every thrust, you can feel your walls squeezing so tightly around him and your hips are shaking with pleasure. Seonghwa’s eyes are trained on the junction where his cock is driving deep into you, mesmerised by the glistening slick covering both of your thighs.

Without warning, his slender fingers travel down your body to press at your clit. A gasp rips its way out of your throat and you moan embarrassingly loud, your hips kicking up. “Seonghwa–”

He leans in, his hand still rubbing small circles on your clit, pressing his lips sweetly to yours once again. “Shit, Hwa, you’re too perfect for me. Treating me so well.”

Seonghwa groans and bites your shoulder. “You look so pretty on my cock, my wife. You’d look so pretty full with me dripping out of you. I should show you every day how much I love you, hmm? It’s what you deserve. A pampered life as my wife, the queen by my side.” His teeth sink into your lower lip and his fingers speed up their ministrations.

“Ah– I’m close Seonghwa,” you moan into his mouth, and you can practically feel him smile against your lips.

With one particularly well-delivered thrust, Seonghwa growls, “Come for me, YN.”

Without much further prompting, just a twist of his fingers on your clit, you groan, back arching and your cunt clenching around Seonghwa as you fall over the edge of your orgasm, your husband following soon after. Ropes of searing hot come shoot deep inside of you and you let out a long sigh at the feeling. Seonghwa rests his forehead on yours as his hips slow to a stop, letting your orgasms wash over both of you completely.

You let your body completely relax on the mattress, staring up at the canopy of the bed. When you were preparing for the party, the last thing you expected was to get your brains fucked out by Seonghwa, but you won’t complain. You breathe out and relax, bringing your hand up to brush your fingers through his dark hair.

“Feeling good?” you ask your husband, and Seonghwa laughs, tilting his head up.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s get my lovely wife cleaned up. I have to change the sheets in the meantime.” Seonghwa gets up, stretching a little, and you can’t help but stare at the sliver of waist you see. You can feel his come dribbling out of you and instinctively you clench your thighs although you know you must get up soon enough.

But before you can even make any move to, Seonghwa leans down and scoops you up, carrying you over to your shared bathroom. “Ah– Hwa–” you scold, gripping onto his shoulders. “My legs work!”

Seonghwa laughs, nuzzling into your hair. “Then I should fix that next time.”

You laugh and smack at his shoulder. “Hwa, no, I like being able to move.”

Seonghwa shakes his head but doesn’t respond, just turning on the faucet and sitting you down in the water. “Is this all right for you?” he asks, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Come sit with me too, Hwa. You should get to relax too.”

“Ah, but the sheets,” Seonghwa tries, but you grab the hem of his shirt.

“We can use my quarters, Seonghwa.” You stare up at him with pleading eyes, and you can see him hesitate. “Please, Hwa?”

And just like magic, your words break down Seonghwa’s hesitation and he sighs, unfastening his shirt and throwing off his pants. As he lowers himself behind you, your hand reaches back to steady him.

As the two of you sit in the warm water, you take a chance and lean back against his firm chest. You can feel him stiffen and your breath catches in your throat, but in the end, he just relaxes and throws an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know, ever since I saw you on the wedding day, I was happy to have you as my wife,” Seonghwa hums, rocking you back and forth slightly.

You tilt your head up to smile at him sweetly. “And seeing you in your wedding robes looking every bit of a fairy, I was happy to have you as my husband.” Seonghwa leans down to press his lips against yours, brushing your hair behind your ear. You can feel his own smile against your mouth and your eyes flutter shut.

“Let’s stay like this for as long as we can.”

#codn: permevent #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #kvanity #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #smut

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pirateprincessblog · 1 year

Text

Cry For Me 》 P. Seonghwa

I make these to help you visualise! But you are free to imagine whatever you like :)

NEW! Read the ongoing full version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three (in progress...)

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you promised your friend. you asked for forgiveness and gave a promise that you wouldn't even look her father's way. it isn't your fault that you suck at keeping promises. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: psh x reader x khj 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: best friend's father seonghwa, seonghwa's business partner hongjoong, smut, angst, bits of fluff 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, nsfw scenes, unprotected sex, voyeurism, dacryphilia 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: had to include both of my biases :D

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

༻♡༺

The pastry shop was flooded with people. It was Monday, which meant new specials were added to the menu. Your special Butcher of Blaviken piece of cake was long forgotten. You didn't even get a chance to taste the inviting red frosting. Oh, to be in the Witcher world now instead of being lectured by your friend. Henry Cavill would understand.

"You didn't think about it affecting us? You didn't fear about losing me as you did it?"

You're numb to the words. Her father fucked the thoughts out of you and you couldn't seem to feel any guilt in you. Yet, you didn't want to lose her. She was the only one who could keep up with your mood swings and random obsessions with movies and books that come and go. She was the only one that returned the energy you'd give her.

"Damn it, answer me! What the fuck were you thinking? How the fuck did you even manage to do it? He doesn't fuck anyone since mom left!"

People are staring, those sitting getting their chairs closer. Your friend is giving them a free show and they're willing to take it.

"I swear to God-"

"I wasn't thinking." You say, looking directly into her eyes.

"What?"

"I was not," you get closer, making sure not to break eye contact, "thinking."

"How the fuck did it happen? How did you convince him?"

The amount of the word fuck would even impress Geralt- well, you get it. I have an obsession with Henry Cavill. Little fourth wall break here. Okay, let's continue. No more, I promise.

Your calmness is angering her even more. She doesn't seem to understand how unaffected by all of this you are. You don't feel guilt simply because Mr Park agreed to all of it. In fact, you had already given up on your plan. He came to you and started it all over again.

"I was snooping around his library and he came, we hit it off and that's all you need to know."

"He came to you?" She laughs in disbelief.

"He came to the library, not me."

Frustrated, she groans and drops her head on the table. You glance at the cake, the chocolate Wolven sword on top of it as inviting as Mr Park in his unbuttoned shirt.

"Listen, I cannot undo what happened. Truthfully speaking, I wouldn't even if I could."

The girl raises her head, her angered look changing into the one of disappointment. You try putting yourself into her situation. You'd feel hurt, sure. But as long as it is a one-time thing, you're sure you'd get over it. It's not like Mr Park will declare his love to you and make you his new wife and her step mother. And that's what you tell her, causing her to calm down a bit.

"Didn't you make similar comments about Wren's dad? That you'd give him anything he'd ask for, if only he approached you?"

She seems offended that you remembered and mentioned that. Still, she remains calm. Her eyes are fixed behind you, concentrating on the moving line of people that are no longer interested in your conversation.

"It was just a one-time thing. It won't happen-"

"I miss mom."

And just like that, she breaks down. Your heart shatters when the first tear rolls down her cheek. After all, she is still her dad's little girl. And no matter what Mrs Park did, she was still her mother.

"Hey-"

"Just let me do what I need to do." She says, her voice trembling as words left her mouth. "I just need to let it out."

"You sure you want to do that here?" You ask, careful not to make her angry again.

She sits silent for a few moments. Her eyes are fixed on the traffic outside, a tear rolling down her cheeks every other moment. You've never seen her so helpless and vulnerable. She is always collected, calm, and usually the one to cheer people up. Now, when it's your turn, you don't know what to do.

"I could do it in a dressing room at Zara." She laughs, then sniffs. "Want to join me?"

And just how can you say no to her?

It is noon when you enter her house. Both of you are drowning in various bags full of clothes. She is an entirely different person than she was this morning. As if it didn't happen at all. You're watching her as she skillfully carries all her bags up the stairs and into her room. You almost trip and fall multiple times, yet you are determined to get there on your own, without any help. She laughs at you from the top of the stairs, then announces that she is going to take a shower.

You balance the bags in your hands, eyes glued to the marble stairs which shined brighter than diamonds under the expensive chandelier. Once you reach the top of the stairs, you put the items on the floor so you can correct your posture and crack your back. You hear a thump, then shuffling. With horror, you watch as two bags start rolling down the stairs. All of its contents are spilling on the way down, and all you can do is watch and hope they'll stop at some point.

But when they do, they stop in front of a pair of polished black shoes. Your eyes stay fixed on the Victoria's Secret pink bag, somehow hoping that if you're not looking at him, he will disappear. Pale slender fingers come into sight, the pointer finger hooked under the handle of the bag. Your eyes follow as he raises it to his head level.

"I think you might've dropped something." He speaks first.

You're not sure what to say. Or do. So you continue to stand like a deer on a highway, your feet refusing to move. Since you're already staring, you take a few more moments to admire the changes on him. His hair is darker than the last time, and not as fluffy. His lips have a red tint, and you notice a slight shadow at the corners of his eyes. He is wearing a black turtleneck, paired with perfectly ironed pants and a belt. He is effortlessly perfect.

He chuckles, then bends over to pick up the items laying on the white tiles. Your legs and brain finally make a signal, and you are running down to yank the items away from him. Your movements are rushed and clumsy, and all the clothes are landing outside the bag instead of inside it. From the corner of your eyes, you realise that he has stopped helping. Instead, he is standing again, his attention now on something else.

You wish the ground could swallow you. A piece of fabric lays on his delicate fingers, thumb caressing the lace as a smirk forms on his tinted lips. He is holding your newest holiday edition lingerie set. It is as red as your cheeks right now, and if you didn't look away, you're sure your head would've exploded from embarrassment.

"Good deal on the set?"

You're not sure if he is trying to lighten the obviously awkward situation, or if he is making fun of you. After all, he is standing there, dripping in designer clothes and looking classier than you. Yet you're standing there, dripping in clumsy and tacky.

"I would never buy something so ugly for a full price." You manage to mumble, then reach for the fabric.

"Ugly? I don't think it's ugly." He pulls his hand away, "It's very... Well, it screams Christmas. And only ten dollars for a full set?"

Unable to read his expression and tone, you stay frozen. You feel so small in front of him. The tone is tugging towards mockery more than towards harmless joking, and you're not feeling comfortable. Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes, your lip slightly trembling. You're a mess, standing in your scattered lingerie and paper bags, in front of your friend's hot father who isn't making you feel as good as last time you saw him.

"Can I please have my things back?" You manage to ask, voice cracking at the end.

His smile drops. The man takes a few moments to examine your body language, and once he realises what he has done, he puts the items in the bags. He takes his time to pick them up one by one, not once looking up at you.

Your sniffles echo through the room, and you're trying your best not to let the tears smear this little makeup you have left on your face. You still have to look a bit decent. Park Seonghwa is now holding the bags in front of you, patiently waiting for you to take them. You carefully soak in the tears with the sleeve of your top. Your eyes avoid his as you reach out to take your belongings. The slight brush of his cold fingers against yours has your stomach going on a rollercoaster. You remember how they felt against your lips as he touched you. You manage to look into his eyes, this time not looking away immediately. You wish to repeat the guilty pleasure. The way he looks down at you makes you want to drop on your knees and give him just what he deserves.

"That look is going to get us both into trouble again, kitten." He whispers.

Still focused on trying not to cry, you don't realise that you are pouting and looking at him through wet eyelashes. He gulps, then glances behind you. He then steps towards you, until you can feel his comforting warm breath on your face.

"That smeared mascara is giving me deja vu."

You immediately remember what he is referring to.

"Will you let me smear that pretty makeup of yours?"

So he gets off to smeared makeup. Ironic, since he always looks so neat and fresh. Not only him, but every area around him too. Your breath hitches as he brings his hand to your cheek, thumb ever so lightly grazing the skin where your tear had started the journey. He wipes it, then brings it over to his mouth. He closes his lips around the thumb, and you see his tongue peeking out a bit to lick the salty liquid off the tip. You are too taken aback by his action, and now you are the one to get a deja vu.

You stood like this in front of him the last time too, only this time, his fingers aren't in your mouth, but in his.

Maybe you spoke to soon, maybe he could read minds. You didn't know. You could only watch as he brings his thumb to caress your bottom lip, as if asking permission for entrance. You grant it to him, ready to give him anything he asks for.

Your core throbs at the way he sensualy massages your tongue with the finger. You allow yourself to get confident, swirling your tongue around it. He lets out a groan, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

"Don't give me that look, kitten. We can't."

You pull away from his hand, a string of saliva connecting your body parts making both of you feel dazed.

"Then stop fingerfucking my mouth, Sir." You say as politely as you can, tone low with lust.

Before you know it, Mr Park has you slammed against the wall, hands pressed firmly on your waist. You whimper when your back collides with the cold wall, but his actions are quick to distract you. His knee parts your legs, rising a little so that it makes contact with your crotch. You let out a sigh into his mouth, ready to give yourself to him. His fingers press into your cheeks, cupping your jaw so that you can't avoid his gaze. He is looking at you so intensely that you could cum right there on his thigh and knee. The smell of sandalwood and jasmine coming from his neck and chest area is not helping at all. It is inviting, and you don't want to be rude and decline an invitation.

"As much as I'd love nothing more than to fill you up with my cock against this wall right now, until you're staining my wall with your arousal, I'm going to need you to stay away from me."

The tower of fantasies you've slowly started to build suddenly crumbled down under his words. Emotions are erupting inside of you, lust and disappointment merging into each other and creating frustration and sadness. You are sexually frustrated, and this man has done nothing but worsen the situation.

"You'll leave me like this, Mr Park?"

He looks down on your lips, eyebrows furrowed as if thinking about which wire to cut.

Red — the powerful lust growing inside of him. The desire to have you crying under his touch from immense pleasure. The urge to abuse your clit with his tongue until he has you shaking in his arms.

Blue — the fragile relationship with his daughter. He just won her back, and making a fatal mistake like this could mean losing her forever.

Green — harmless flirting and teasing. Messing around and seeing you blush is something he just might get used to.

Park Seonghwa was also very sexually frustrated. But he was also a man with a reputation and half a family. He cannot bring himself to ruin either of the two.

"I want you on your best behaviour, kitten."

You look at him through your lashes again, this time on purpose. His fingers then pull at your hair, exposing your neck to him and causing you to whimper. He looks down at you, and you see yourself in his dilated pupils, drowning in the dark pools of lust.

"I mean it." He says, lips grazing your jaw as he speaks. "Be good for me."

And with that, he steps away from you, giving you one last head to toe checkup. He then turns around and makes his way to the library, leaving you flushed and a mess against the wall. You watch his back as he walks, noticing how huge his shoulders are and how slim his waist is. The things you'd do just to bite into any of those things. If you only had the courage and confidence to seduce him. You can only watch from afar, wishing that he would drop his guard and come to you.

It feels like that evening all over again; him making you yearn for him, then leaving you and disappearing into his space. The promises you gave to your friend are pushed back, and your brain has opened the path doe the thoughts you shouldn't be having. Yet, it's not breaking a promise if he is the one to come to you, is it?

You pick up the bags, this time not letting go of them until you've reached the room. You drop on the bed, face buried into the softest blankets you've ever touched in your life. Your clit is almost pulsating and burning from being all worked up. Touching yourself won't help. It's not the same. You've gotten a taste once, you'll never be able to do it the old way. Park Seonghwa is the only one who can help.

How dare he get so close to you, get you all worked up like that, then tell you to stay away? What kind of sick teasing and torture kinks is he into? Whatever it is, you have already fallen into his trap. You crave him, your body yearns to be touched by his fingers again. Every place on your body he touched on the stairs burns with sensation. You can only let out a frustrated groan before getting up and fixing your hair.

Your eyes examine the abnormally red cheeks and smeared mascara. You looked like you were fucked senseless, not just cornered by your friend's hot father. Although you wish he did the first.

"Professor Gellert gave me this stupid project that needs to be done by tomorrow. I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to— damn. Are you okay?"

The girl comes in while drying her hair with a towel, eyebrows scrunched with worry as she looks at your reflection in the mirror. Your back is turned towards her, and you're having a hard time looking into her eyes. How can you, when in your mind you're picturing Mr Park forcing your head onto his cock as tears run down your cheeks, just how he likes it?

"Are you sick?"

"The stairs killed me." You laugh it off, pointing at the bags.

"Oh, right." She brushes it off, then throws the wet towel into the basket near the bed. "Do you have a dress for the college celebration next week?"

"I'm not going." You say, remembering how many familiar people will show up.

"Why not?"

"I'm going to have a stomachache then."

You don't even have to look up to know that she is killing you with her stare. Both of you know that you will end up going, you just choose to throw a little tantrum before giving in.

"Your dance partner is so excited for you though."

"I forgot whose name I even pulled. Mind reminding me?"

To avoid having people without a pair, all people were supposed to pull out names. You know you weren't too thrilled about it, but you still can't remember who it was.

"Avan? No, he is with Vic. Oh, Joseph!"

"The Catholic boy?" You ask, now realising why you were so unimpressed.

"No, no, the hot Catholic boy. His hair grew since last summer and his teeth are like, super straight and white. He became the hottest thing to ever walk at that college."

A sigh leaves your lips at the realisation that more money will be reduced from your bank account. You can't go looking basic nor weird. People there aren't the nicest little dandelions, and you are very fragile when it comes to real life. You will need a proper dress, proper heels and equally good makeup. Luckily, you know just the person who will help.

Hours of goofing around, working on the project, and a warning to quiet down from Mr Park due to his business video chat, both of you are asleep. You'd lie if you were to say his stern voice didn't do things to you. He was so good at giving orders, and you are willing to take all of them. Both of you were in your matching satin sleeping dresses, laying on your stomach and watching funny moments of your favorite groups, laughing your heads off and making weird noises on purpose. It was a competition, each of you making a weirder and louder noise than the other. A few screams and laughing fits later, Mr Park Seonghwa knocked on the door. He came in calmly, eyeing up both of you.

"Girls, I have an important meeting and I'm trying to win an opportunity to keep our lives the way they are and not lose everything. Yet, here you are, sounding as if I've kidnapped you and am boiling you alive."

Your smile drops, but your friend remains the same. This tells you that him coming in to intervenire happens more often than you'd think. His usually soft and sparkly eyes are now sharp and serious, his eyebrow raised and his tinted lips going slightly downwards. He is still wearing the turtleneck, only this time he has added a grey coat resting on his shoulders.

"Sorry, dad."

His eyes shift to you, and silence swallows the room. You are taken aback by the intense gaze, and your friend nudges you with her elbow.

"S-sorry, da- Mr Park." You stutter, and your face heats up as soon as you finish the sentence. You wish to crawl out the window and disappear in the bushes. Maybe even cry yourself to sleep there.

Your mission is to seduce him, yet how can you succeed when all you do is embarrass yourself in front of him? He must've lost interest. You are convinced that he is your fantasy come to life, and you simply can't let go. You don't want to let go. Not until you get at least one more taste.

To your surprise, he only hums, then exits the room. You hear his footsteps in the distance, then a door being shut louder than usual.

"He's a real dick sometimes."

In the morning, you are awoken by your friend's raspy voice asking for period cramp pills. It takes you a few moments to adjust your eyes to the morning light.

"Where are they?" You mumble, mouth full of toothpaste.

"Your favorite place in this house." She laughs.

You peek outside the little bathroom to ask why she is laughing and what does she mean by that.

"Dad's office."

You roll your eyes, then return to brushing your teeth. Once you make sure to pick on your skin a little, then put on foundation so that your friend doesn't give you a lesson about it, you head outside.

"You'll see a few drawers below his fantasy section. There's all kinds of pills, just bring me the ones we usually use in these days of suffering."

As you approach the room of your favorite memories and dirty pleasures, you hear his voice coming from inside. It sounds lower than usual, and he sounds very professional. He is saying words even you've never heard of. In conclusion, he even talks expensive and sexy.

"Hongjoong, my marketing team is suffering because they took the most important elements from them. Half of the team quit when they heard who is trying to get involved."

You don't want to interrupt, but if you don't get those pills, you're going to be the first victim of the Hormonal Queen Park. You knock lightly, then slowly open the door.

You swear that if your toes didn't hit the wooden door frame as you tried going inside, you'd let out a moan. Mr Park is sitting in his usual chair, wearing a white shirt. It is halfway unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You see a thin gold chain decorating his sun kissed skin on his neck. His lips are reddish as usual, and his hair isn't as neat as it was yesterday. His jaw rests in his hand, while his other hand is scribbling something on the papers at the corner of his desk.

He doesn't speak. Instead, he raises an eyebrow towards you. You point towards the drawer, then try showing him that you're looking for pills with your hands. He scoffs, then returns to his conversation. Still sleepy, you forget that you are still only wearing the satin lavender dress. It is when the morning cold breeze hits your legs that you realise. You're already here, there's no point in being embarrassed anymore.

Your eyes read the signs at the top of the bookcase. Adult fiction, Criminal, Erotica, Fiction, Horror... and Fantasy! Right behind his back.

Fuck.

Having no other choice, you get down on all four, and start crawling towards the drawers. Mr Park hasn't yet noticed your little mission. He is too frustrated with his ongoing problem to notice a half naked girl crawling on his office floor. You cheer inside your head as you successfully reach the drawers. You pull at the handle, but it doesn't budge.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You sigh, trying with all your strength. The drawer stays closed, and you're already ready to go home.

The only thing left to do is ask Mr Park, but you wouldn't dare to interrupt. Instead, you crawl to his side, careful not to be seen on camera. You're sitting near his leg, looking up at him while figuring out how to ask. You opt for the quietest solution, and you'll see where it gets you. With a quiet gulp and a sigh, you finally reach out towards him. Instead of quietly calling him like you intended, you gently poke his leg under the desk.

The man looks down, eyebrows scrunched with confusion. He almost chokes on his saliva when he sees you, then redirects his attention at the screen.

"Mr Park," you whisper.

"Hongjoong, I'm gonna have to pause the video for a second."

"That's fine, I'll just go through the mails one more time."

You hear a click, then silence. Mr Park grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You look like a treat, waiting to be picked up and consumed by him. The way your knees have a slight red tint have his mind racing with thoughts.

"Are you crazy?" His tone is calm and low. The grip on your jaw is firm, his fingers pressing into your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout.

He can't get over how big your pupils have gotten, and how well he can see your cleavage from that position. The sight of your breasts squished together by the shiny satin fabric combined with your pouty stare from the bottom aren't helping his situation at all. How can he hold back when you're sitting there like a present, waiting to be unwrapped and enjoyed? He had countless comparisons, and hundreds of ways he could take care of you. If only he could.

"I just need some pills," you whisper, too mesmerised by his intense gaze to speak in normal voice.

"So you decide to crawl under my desk to ask for it?"

"I'm not—"

"Right, still nothing. I guess we really lost the proof."

The voice is coming from the screen again. A flash of disappointment crosses Park Seonghwa's face. Still, he leans back into his chair, hand still holding your jaw. His grip softens, and he proceeds to caress your cheek with his thumb. The simple action makes you almost purr. You don't remember the last time you got this kind of affection.

With your eyes closed, your body relaxes into his touch. Nothing exists anymore, except Mr Park, his scent and touch. You allow yourself a few moments of silence. The men's voices are becoming distant, and you swear that you could fall asleep just like this. You feel the slight roughness of his fingers, a sign that he aged like fine wine. You remember your father's hands being all rough and dark due to working hard jobs all these years. Seonghwa must've inherited family business. Or he knows how to take care of himself.

You look up at him, chin now resting on his knee. You aren't sure if you want to climb into his lap and take in all the affection he is willing to give you, or get down further under the desk and make him squirm in your hands. Deciding to test the waters, you drag your fingers up his leg, resting them just near his crotch. Mr Park wets his lips, glancing at you for a second. When you see no signs of complaining, you move over so that you're sitting comfortably between his legs. Your hands continue the journey to his belt, excitement rushing through your veins and into your heart as you feel the cold leather underneath your fingertips. You take your time to play with the buckle, just like you read in one of your favorite books.

Just like the man on the worn out pages of your book, Park Seonghwa gulps when you pull the zipper down, just enough to graze him with your nails. You're overflowing with confidence, and you're a little impatient too. But you want to take your time to take care of him. Make him yearn for you just like he did to you. As quietly as possible, you undo his pants, and are delighted when you find out he is wearing no underwear. You reach inside with your tongue, just enough to touch him and make him adjust in his chair.

"You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

Mr Park moves your hands, then pulls his cock out for you. One of his hands is holding onto your hair, gently pushing your head towards it. You don't have time to admire the size or all the little details you wanted. Your lips are pressing against his tip, the taste of precum sweet and salty at the same time.

He is impatient, and in desperate need to feel your hot mouth around him. You obey, finally taking him in and making sure to press your tongue flat against him. Unable to control it, he releases a groan.

"Hwa, you sure you're good?"

"I'm good, I just —" he pauses, looking down at you. How does he tell his business partner and best friend that his daughter's friend looks too good with her mouth stuffed like that? With her tits almost falling out and her pupils so big he just wants to slam his cock into her pussy and fuck her into oblivion?

"Just...? If you're not feeling good, we can continue later. I get this must be very hard for you, but —"

Just when you think you've won, Mr Park shakes his head. "No, no. That's fine. Remember how I told you my daughter wanted a kitten? Well, she's not letting me work in peace."

"Oh, that's adorable. Give her a few pets from me."

Park Seonghwa smirks, then looks down at you. His fingers caress your cheeks, and you melt at the touch. It is a motivation to take him in all the way, slamming the tip against the back of your throat.

"She's a very naughty kitten. I can't seem to get rid of her."

"See, no matter what they do, I'll never be a dog person. I love them so much. Just the sight of one makes me feel all fuzzy."

"Oh, just wait until you see this one."

You freeze in your spot. Seonghwa pulls your head away with a loud pop, and shoves his desk away to expose you. His thumb wipes your drool and his precum from your lips, then proceeds to pull you into his lap so that you're facing the screen. The man on the screen is as frozen as you, and as handsome and Mr Park. His gaze drops on your now exposed breasts, and you see his chest slowing down as he tries to breath normally again.

"A unique one, isn't she?" Seonghwa speaks first, holding your head in place by pulling your hair. You're forced to look at the man, and instead of feeling ashamed, you are only feeling more worked up. "I've never been a cat person, but this one is just so obedient I might actually keep her."

"Well, fuck me. That is one hell of a kitten."

"Come on, love. Why don't we show Hongjoong all the tricks I have taught you?"

You aren't sure what he means, until he lays you on his chest and spreads your legs. Your panties are so drenched, they're almost see through. The man on the screen is devouring you with his stare. Something about both of their gazes and confidence has lit a fire inside of you that cannot be put out. In the corner of the screen, you see your exposed and messy figure spread out on Mr Park's lap, and it only adds up to the atmosphere you are so enjoying.

"Actually, since Hongjoong has more experience with cats, how about he shows us how to perform a some tricks?"

You know he isn't asking, just giving you a trailer of what awaits you. A chuckle comes from the screen, and the man flashes his pearly white teeth at you through a smirk.

"First, you might want to tie her up. You don't want her running away, do you?"

Without hesitation, the man yanks his belt from his pants, and secures it around neck. You are having a hard time breathing. Not because of the belt, but because of the overwhelming feelings mixing inside of you. You've never been manhandled like this, and you are afraid that you might get too used to the feeling of Park Seonghwa doing this to you.

"You still have that wand?"

"Sure do."

Confusion takes over your features, and you can't help but wonder why Hongjoong knew that. Do they do this often? If so, are you just another toy Mr Park is going to play with and leave?

"Relax, kitten." Mr Park seems to notice your sudden discomfort. "Spread your legs for me."

And just like that night, your legs are over the armrests, the wand dangerously close to your clit.

"Having a good view, Kim?"

"A gorgeous one, Park."

Mr Kim leans back on his chair, hands working on his belt but not yet doing anything. It seems he enjoys watching more than doing anything. A sweet vibrating sensation spreads all over your folds, and you cannot help but buck your hips into the toy.

"Make your screen bigger, Seonghwa. So that she can see just how pretty she looks."

The man doesn't pull the gadget away as he changes the screen size, making Hongjoong's the one in the corner and yours taking over the screen. Now you can clearly see yourself; spread on Mr Park's lap, his chin resting on your shoulder, dark eyes looking at you through the camera. His ringed fingers are skillfully moving the toy up and down your clit, while his other hand holds onto the belt, lightly choking you.

"Doesn't moan easily, huh? Try circles."

Mr Park listens, circling the swollen bud with consistent vibrations. You feel like you're going to cum any second, and you don't want to do that so soon.

"Feel good?"

"Yes," you breathe out, holding onto the fabric of his pants as you try your best not to go over the edge.

"Then let us hear it, doll."

No matter how good it felt, it wasn't enough to draw moans from you. "You have to try better than that, then."

A scoff leaves his tinted lips. He brings them close to your neck, just enough to lick a stripe up to your jaw.

"Use your other hand, too."

Mr Kim is so skilled with giving orders. And Mr Park is so good at listening to him. His fingers, which are the prettiest ones you've ever seen in your life, move your panties aside just to slowly thrust between your walls. He explores, wiggling his two fingers inside until he curls them up. With the elbow of the hand which holds the toy, he presses into your lower stomach, making the feeling more intense than ever. He starts pumping into you slow, matching the rhythm of the vibrations.

"I've never seen such an obedient kitten. Look how good she is doing."

"Indeed, she is doing so well. Now, if she could orgasm on my fingers, she would be the best."

"Ngh—" you groan, chasing the orgasm just like he asked you to. You know you can't handle two, but you're willing to try for him. Well, them.

"Come on, pretty girl."

"S-sir—" you cry out, ready to spill over, "I can't—"

"Can't what?" He slows down, moving the wand away for a moment. You take a few seconds to catch your breath. You feel all wet and sticky, but look hotter than ever. You're still unused by him, yet you looked like he has ravished you twice today.

"If I cum now, it'll be too much." You admit, pupils big as you look at him. "I want to cum when you fuck me."

"Spoke too soon about obedience, huh?"

The wicked smirk on the screen lets you know that they won't let you off so easily. Mr Park then slams his lips onto yours, sucking and licking at the plump flesh of your bottom lip as he brings the wand back to your clit. You shake in his lap, feeling a tad bit overstimulated. His other hand holds your thighs separated, but you still try to close them. The warm muscle of his tongue massages yours, and for a moment, you forget about Mr Kim. You forget about your best friend. You wish to wake up like this every day, admired, praised and consumed by him. Your hands reach into his hair, grabbing at the fluffy strands and anything else they can reach.

"That's so fucking hot. I didn't know how sexy you make out, Hwa."

Park Seonghwa smiles into the kiss, and in that moment, you wished to experience it every day. You wished this wasn't just messing around with your friend's dad. Your feelings for him are growing, and you know them well it's forbidden. But how to tell a heart no?

"You're welcome to come over and try these days," he winks at the screen, then shifts his attention back to you. "And just what do we do with you now? Do I make you cum and stop the fun?"

His thumb caresses your flushed cheek. You have a hard time forming a sentence, and all you can do is breathe into his mouth and look at him. His tongue peeks to wet his lips, doing the same to yours in the process.

"You'd rather shamelessly drip all over my pants like this? You just want my daughter to find out?"

Come to think of it, it's weird that she didn't notice your absence. Maybe she gave up. Maybe she went back to sleep. Whatever it is, you've made it clear to her that this is nothing more than just messing around. No romance involved. Even though your heart feels tight at the last sentence, you pretend like it's nothing. All those things you've thought about while touching yourself late at night are coming to life, and you won't try to stop that in any way.

"Mr Park?"

He hums, fingers fixing your hair and eyes scanning your face with adoration. "Yes, pretty girl?"

"Please fuck me."

"When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?" He says with a chuckle, then glances at the screen.

Mr Kim is sat still, looking at everything unfolding in front of him as if he's watching a movie. Or a porn video. His attention is fixed on your breasts, and you allow yourself another moment of confidence. You cup them, rubbing your nipples and squeezing the soft flesh while throwing your head back.

Mr Kim clicks his tongue, then gets closer to the screen. He rests his elbows on the desk, and his head on his hands. "Hwa, give her a little treat from me."

The older man doesn't waste a single second before licking a stripe over your breast. He wraps his lips around your bud of nerves, then proceeds to work his tongue around it. You're squirming in his lap, accidentally stroking him while doing so. He hums into you, the vibrations making you let out the first moan.

"There it is."

You feel so close, but you're too far. Your body is limp, and he hasn't even had you the way he promised yet. As if he could hear your thoughts, Mr Park hooks his fingers under your panties. He grazes over your clit, then pulls the panties down your legs.

"Let's pull a real trick now, kitten."

The man adjusts your body on his lap with ease, and you're too mesmerised by his strength to notice that his cock is at your entrance. It is when he lightly slaps your clit and pulls the belt on your neck that you give him attention.

"Eyes on Hongjoong."

You try to protest, but he grabs your jaw and inserts a finger into your mouth. Your head is now stuck in one position, and you can't avoid Mr Kim's gaze. He has a wicked grin on his face again, and just when you're about to make a stupid remark, Park Seonghwa slowly lifts his hips to enter you. He deliciously fills you up, leaving no space at all. His hot skin is grazing your walls just right, but not yet hitting the spot you need the most.

"Fuck—" he hisses, keeping the slow motions going.

You glance at the corner of the screen, seeing Mr Kim now palming himself through his pants. "You've gotta tell me where you buy these kittens, man."

The man behind you laughs between the moans, but doesn't say anything. He enjoys it as much as you, and isn't bothered to keep any conversations or teasing going. At least you hope so.

He lifts your body up, then moves his hips upwards so that he can move faster. Watching yourself get fucked on the screen by a man your dad's age, while another one watches wasn't quite in your fantasy list. But fuck, you're so happy that it's happening. Your eyes follow Mr Park's cock as it smoothly disappears inside of you, causing you to whine and moan in his arms.

"Think you've teased her enough?"

"Just a bit more." The man whispers, head falling back on the chair and his moves getting sloppy. "Fuck, love, you're gonna make me cum so quick."

You feel like you're dripping all over the place. His cock is soaking up your juices, making wet noises in the process. That, along with his skin hitting yours as he reaches the deepest ends of you, is what will keep you fueled for months. You glance at him through the screen, and you almost cream right there on his cock. Something about fucking in clothes is a huge turn on for you, and seeing Park Seonghwa sprawled out on his chair, with his unbuttoned white shirt and pretty gold jewellery, with his head resting back and eyes rolling from pleasure, with his fingers digging into your skin and hair sticking to his forehead, makes your head spin. You wish to take a picture, and look at it every night just to admire him. His sun kissed chest is exposed more than when you entered the room, and you wish to mark him up so bad. Hopefully, next time.

His hips are going at a slow pace, but deeper than last time. He reaches to all the places inside of you, stroking them all just right. He lifts your body, just to slam it down on his cock and hit your most sensitive spot. A loud moan is halfway out your lips, but he is quick to pull the belt to keep you quiet. He repeats the movements, this time faster and harder.

"Oh, baby," he almost growls under his breath, "making daddy feel so good."

Then, as if something has snapped inside of him, he pushes the chair back and lets it fall back with a thud. His hands push your body down onto the desk, and he grabs your waist like his life depends on it. He adjusts the camera so that Mr Kim can get a clear view of your drooling and flushed face, along with Mr Park's lower body continuously slamming into you. You feel so sensitive, and you haven't orgasmed once yet. Tears form at the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall. You're not sure if you're crying from pleasure or pain, but you didn't want either to stop.

And Park Seonghwa fucking adored it. He adored your face decorated with tears as he took you from behind, forcing you to watch yourself on camera while another stranger is watching you.

"Wish you could see how well you're taking me." He groans. "So fucking good for me."

"Is she taking it like a good girl, Hwa?"

"Oh, she's doing such a good job. Aren't you, love?" He says with a smirk, knowing that you're incapable of speaking.

Your eyes roll back, and you feel like you're going to evaporate. His consistent thrusts are helping you build up the orgasm, and you just know that you're going to cum harder than ever.

"You're fucking her dumb."

"I know. Look at her." Mr Park pulls the belt so that you can lift your head from the desk. Your lips are dry, and you can barely see anymore. Everything is blurry, and you feel nothing but endless pleasure. "Loves being thrown around and used until she cries. Don't you?"

You manage to nod, but quickly go back to moaning and almost drooling all over his desk and keyboard. His hand sneaks towards your clit, toying with it in circles until he has you screaming and almost growling. He is abusing all the sensitive buds on your body he can reach, from you G spot and your clit, to both of your nipples.

"Talk to her, Hwa. Make her speak even though she obviously can't. Make her cry and beg for you."

"Hear that, pretty one? Talk to me. Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?"

You want to kill Mr Kim for giving him the idea of making you talk. All you want to do is cum already. All this teasing is doing you no good. It's becoming addictive, and you just know this won't be the last time.

"Y-you, Sir." You choke out, body still rocking into his.

"Will you take all of my seed like a good girl you are?"

"Fuck, yes, yes, yes—"

"Will you fuck yourself on my cock until you've creamed all over it?"

"Yes, oh fuck, yes—" you groan, moving your hips back so you can fuck yourself on his cock just like he asked you to.

You look at his figure through the screen. His gaze is fixed on the way your tight walls are swallowing him up, and he seems completely mesmerised by it. You use him as you'd use one of those dildos you have saved on a Web shop, milking him just right. His moans are low and the hottest thing you've ever heard in your life. With each minute that passes, his voice becomes lower and much more of a whisper.

His eyes search for yours, and once you lock your gaze with his, you don't let go. You let him fuck you into the desk, with a whole stranger watching. Tears roll down your face, pleasure too intense to take. You groan, moan and whine at each thrust, trying your best to chase your orgasm.

Seeing that you're struggling, he picks you up, only to throw you against the bookshelf. He lifts your leg up, almost resting it on his shoulder. The new angle has you reaching new notes, and he has to stick his fingers into your mouth to keep your noises muffled.

"How cute. Fucking her against the Erotica section."

The shelves shake as Park Seonghwa slams into you, each thrust abusing your G spot so good that you're drooling around his fingers.

"Come on, kitten. Cum on daddy's cock. Milk me dry."

You moan around his fingers, and he takes that as a signal that you're close. He replaces the fingers with his lips, tongue searching for yours only to caress it in the most sensual way ever.

"You close, baby?"

"Yes, yes, yes—"

"Come on, just a bit more. Almost there—"

"Fuck, oh fuck, yes—" Your head falls on his shoulder, hands holding onto them for dear life.

"I'm cumming, love, I'm gonna—" his breathing is heavy, and his moans are now getting high pitched," fuck, oh God, baby—"

You squeeze around him, riding out your orgasm as he paints your walls with his seed. You're weak in his arms as he uses you until the end, making you milk him dry just like he asked. He thrusts into you a few more times, slower and more gentle than ever.

His fingers cup your jaw, lifting your head up so that he can look at you. He wipes your tears with his thumb, then inserts it into his mouth. You can't help but laugh at his wicked kink. He isn't moving away from you. Instead, his lips mold into yours softly. He caresses your cheek as he gently sucks on your lip, occasionally grazing it with his tongue.

"Ah, the aftercare. The best part, honestly."

Park Seonghwa smiles into the kiss for the second time that day, making your heart flutter. "Liar," he mumbles.

He pulls away for a moment, eyes searching your face for any sings of discomfort. When he sees none, he rewards you with another kiss, a kiss so light and comforting that for a second, you really thought he could want something more than just fooling around. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer towards you and deepening the kiss. You're mesmerised by the way he kisses. His scent is all over your body, and his tongue is taking care of yours in ways nobody ever knew.

This time you're the one to pull away, trying to catch some air. He rests his forehead on yours, his heavy breathing comforting on your face.

"I think I'm addicted to you."

You're taken aback by his statement. You're unable to move, or say anything. All you can do is watch as his face turns from calm and content to one of worry and fear.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Only sexually?"

Now he is the one who is taken aback. He didn't quite think about it. Sure, he can't wait to see you. He always checks if you're coming in the house with his daughter. He loves seeing you in your bubble when you eat or speak about your newest fandom.

Ah, shit.

"Let's start differently."

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. The man licks his lips, then sighs. "How does dinner this Saturday sound?"

A laugh escapes your lips, and he follows right after. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, then finally speak.

"That's quite formal for someone who is still balls deep inside of me."

A moan of surprise leaves your body as he thrusts into you, more teasingly than sexually. He then proceeds to pull out, making his seed drip down your legs and onto the carpet.

"Want me to try again now?"

"Not necessary," you finally put your leg down from his shoulder, muscles sore from the new position, "I accept the invitation, Mr Park."

He hums, not bothering to correct your addressing. You were hoping you'd get to call him by his first name. Maybe it's too early. Still, it doesn't stop you from constantly thinking about it.

Seonghwa.

How pretty.

♡

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬:

@scardorosht @kitty4hwa @seokjins-condoms @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rkivesofmymemories @ateezzseonghwaa @bangmechann @dandelion-aj @rialovesyunho @ryleleee @anoooon13

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the7thcrow · 11 months

Text

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 10

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Ten: a relic from the past, confession, and dark magic.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 15.3k

extra chapter warnings: panic attack, a non-consensual kiss, non-consensual drug use (but magical? idk?).

chapter summary:

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

a/n: guess who’s back :3 sorry this took me a million years to write, hopefully i can be a bit more consistent in the next coming months. hope you enjoy, and don’t be shy to let me know what you think! love y’all, thanks to everyone who has not abandoned this story after this massive hiatus LMAO <3

Seonghwa has never believed anger to suit him.

While Woo wears his anger like a loaded cannon, and San - like most other things - buries it until it inevitably rises to the surface, Seonghwa has tried to avoid fury when he can.

After all, anger is often the replacement of a different emotion. It comes easier than understanding, quicker than resolution. It’s the nasty, winding short-cut off the high road, and Seonghwa has learned that the high road is almost always the safer path in the long term.

Anger is ugly. It’s nonsensical and he doesn’t like how it looks on him. It’s why he prefers the cold shoulder to blind rage, sorting out his feelings on his own rather than lashing out on others. It’s the kind thing to do. The empathetic thing to do.

It’s never been overly difficult for him to settle this rage until now.

It festers in his mind every morning, as well as in the night before he falls asleep. Everytime he accidentally catches your eye over breakfast, letting his gaze drift away in hopes that you will think that his eyes were trailing by rather than staring.

He is so unbelievably angry with you, and he hates it.

From the moment the truth was revealed in the forest, it’s as if someone wrapped a hand around his lungs and began to squeeze, then never let go. A hot, burning fire in his chest that’s smoke rises up his throat, choking him with rage. It stings his eyes, fogs his senses. It feels unbeatable, indestructible. Blinding.

He knows that anger is just an emotion. A bad one, one that he’s had to expel from others countless times before. From San, after The Desert Lotus. It’s just another entity, another plague on the body. Settle down, feel it, think better of it, then let it be gone.

And yet now that feels an impossible task. Seonghwa doesn’t know the last time he was so angry. Perhaps it was the night in the kitchen with his mother, learning of the heights of human greed, the one he relives every time he uses his gift to expel the anger from someone else.

He supposes this memory may replace that one.

When he found out the truth about you it was like the last few weeks came crashing down around him. The closeness, the trust and understanding, the mutual respect and admiration.

All lies. All of it. And he feels like such a fucking idiot.

There was no trust, and by the gods, there was certainly no respect. He was a mere pawn in your game, a part of the plan, and all he can do is beat himself up about being too naive to not see it earlier. Woo has always harped on him for being too nice to people, or as the elemental would put it, “not behaving like an actual person, but more like a rock on a walkway that people like to kick around”. Seonghwa thought that Woo was just being grouchy, the pessimist he always is. But hell, maybe he was right.

After all, Seonghwa should have seen it coming. There was so much he could have done. If he had questioned why a beautiful stranger would have so much immediate interest in him in the first place, or why you constantly asked him questions while dismissing any deeper ones about yourself. If he wasn’t so passive about the parasitic emotions practically radiating off of you. If he looked past the ideal he so desperately wanted and dared to dig up the reality of what was underneath.

He’s not an idiot. The reality is that for you, it was never about him. It was about getting to Kuroku. For him it was about the journey, but for you it was always in the name of the destination.

And well, he certainly did his part in getting you there. He shared his gift with you as a token of trust, he took your pain away and made it his own, he vouched for you against Woo’s constant doubt.

All for a girl who’s name he didn’t even know.

The thought makes more anger - ugly, volatile, and oh-so-unflattering - surge within his chest, and he throws a rock into the lake before him. It doesn’t skip as he intended, and instead sinks with a loud plunk.

Seonghwa frowns. He grabs another rock to throw.

After being met with an even louder plunk, he groans, before creeping further up onto the shoreline to grab a flatter rock. His toes dip in the water, which feels colder than yesterday now that he’s no longer fueled by sheer terror and adrenaline.

The coolness brings him back to Maralya, when he and Yunho would sit on the fishing dock. Feet in the water, even though Seonghwa was older, Yunho was the one who had taught him to skip rocks. His half-brother always had a knack for things like that, or well, for everything it seemed. From medical skills, to scaling buildings, to setting a fishing line; Yunho could master whatever he picked up. He must have inherited it from his father, a man Seonghwa doesn’t really remember, as he died when they were young.

Seonghwa doesn’t remember his own father either, as he disappeared on an escapade to The Mainland directly after he was born. His mother told him that his ship was lost at sea, but Seonghwa is pretty sure he just left and never came back.

It doesn’t really matter, he’s never had much of a desire to know the man. After all, the only thing Seonghwa inherited from him was his foolishness. And maybe his nose.

Seonghwa sighs. Picking up another rock, this one flat and polished, he recalls the steps in his mind. Yunho's voice runs through his head as he goes through the form, before bringing his hand back and letting it fly.

Plunk.

He stares at the ripples surrounding the sinking stone for a moment, before sitting down. He must have forgotten a step. It was a long time ago.

He lays back so that his head presses into the sand, the little grains cold and damp against his scalp. It’s familiar. It’s a little like the shore at home, although the sand isn’t as white, and the water’s colder, nor as blue. There’s no sound of hustle and bustle from back in the village, or his mother yelling at him to take a dip in the ocean before coming back inside because he’s covered in sand and he can’t track that into the house.

So maybe it’s not so similar, but he will pretend.

Seonghwa sighs, grabbing a handful of sand, letting it fall between his fingers. It’s times like these, ones where he’s dejected, broken-down, and lonely, that he wants nothing more than to go home. Only then does he remember that there’s no home for him to return to.

He sighs, his anger drifting to sadness, and yet he doesn’t mind. He believes that at the very least, it suits him better.

Footsteps approach from far off behind him, and he knows that it’s you. Woo walks faster, heavier footed, and he likely wouldn’t have heard San until he was closer. Besides, you’ve been walking with a slight limp since the fall, and he can hear it in the thump of every second step.

A part of him wants to ask what happened, what hurts. If you’re okay.

The angry part of him won’t let the other speak.

He hears your steps stutter, coming to a sudden halt from what he assumes is about a dozen feet off. Silence follows, and he wonders what you’re thinking. If you’re nervous to approach him, taking the time to contemplate your words before you say them.

Eventually, you do come closer. “San and Woo want to head towards Bebbanburg,” you call out from behind him. “I said that I’d come get you.”

“Thanks,” Seonghwa says flatly, making no motion to move. He will, of course, but not until you head back to camp. He’d like to avoid the awkwardness of walking in a strained silence, pretending not to notice as you try to meet his eye.

Although when he doesn’t hear you leave, it seems as if he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Sighing, he pushes himself up into a seated position. Glancing back at you, he has to place a hand over his forehead to block out the rising sun blinding his vision.

You stand with your arms wrapped around yourself, watching him with a dampened expression. Your tunic billows in the wind, torn around the waist and covered in dirt and dust. Chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers tap along your arm, you appear on edge. As if you wish to say something.

Seonghwa hates the way he wishes to know what it is. He hates how he wants to smooth your hair that is violently blown by the wind and wipe away the smudge of mud that has hardened against your cheek.

He hates how even now, after everything, he yearns for you.

Perhaps this is how it always would have ended, anyway. Having grown more attached then he ever should, not ready to lose what he knew was never his.

“Seonghwa,” you say finally, although it’s a little strained. Rigid. “About yesterday, by the fire.”

Ah yes, that. You and San hadn’t noticed him at the time, but when neither he or Woo came back to the fire, the two of you went out looking for them. It only took a moment, finding them sitting against the caves outer wall. Quiet and avoidant. Woo had fallen asleep, but Seonghwa had met your gaze. He held it for only a moment, watching your own eyes widen as you realized he’d seen the whole thing. He looked away when your lips parted to speak.

“With San. I hadn’t expected it to happen,” you say, calling loudly over the wind, and yet somehow your voice still seems quiet. Trapped and tight. “I… I don’t regret it. But after everything, it feels unfair to you-”

“I don’t care about you and San,” Seonghwa butts in. Not aggressively, or overly angry, merely factual. After all, that’s not what he’s angry about. He doesn’t care about you and San. That’s your business.

He wants San to be happy. Whatever it takes, the swordsman deserves a bit of peace.

Besides, now that he will not, perhaps San will wipe the mud from your cheek.

“Oh,” you say, followed by a pause. “You just seem upset.”

“I’m not angry about that,” Seonghwa replies, lips pursing together. He swallows hard. “Just about everything you did before it.”

Your expression falls. Mouth dropping open into a small part, your eyes fill with a sudden sense of shame and hurt. Your hands grip your elbows, hugging yourself tighter, even if only slightly.

Your expression settles like stone in his gut, and he knows that what he said has made you hurt. He has made you feel that same pain that tightens in his chest and floods up his throat.

Seonghwa wishes he hadn’t said that.

No matter his anger, no matter the pain, Seonghwa has never wished to pass an entity on to another.

“I’ll meet you back at the cave in a moment,” he says, because he doesn’t want to say anything else that he’ll regret. He doesn’t want to force his gaze from yours while at the same time feeling a pull towards you like a beacon, begging him to take it away. Take it all away. All the horrible entities that radiate from you like a plague, a blackened sickness.

Turning back towards the lake, he waits. When he hears the sound of your footsteps - fading away, not growing louder - he lets out a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t like what this has made him into. The anger that has filled him, strangles him, stops him from drifting towards you like a moth to a flame. Sure to be burned, but the glow will be glorious.

No, anger doesn’t suit him. And yet he wears it, draping over him, akin to a stranger’s jacket.

If there is any luck to be found following your fall from the cliff, it’s in that at least you’ve found yourselves closer to Bebbanburg.

The journey to the small kingdom only took a few hours, the fact that you had nothing to carry but the clothes on your back having sped up the trek. It was spent in silence.

You know there’s certain to be some of the black-clad men poking around in such a populous city, so upon reaching the kingdom, the first order of business was to purchase you a cloak, as Mingi’s own had remained within a satchel on the horse’s back.

It weighs down on your shoulders, knowing that it’s gone, the final piece of him you had left. You’ve tried to view it as for the better, as the cloak of a Libaiyan Royal Guard could have attracted the attention of the wrong pair of eyes.

Even so, it hurts.

The cloak you wear now isn’t nearly as nice, a tattered brown fabric that’s itchy in the spots where it touches your bare skin, but it only cost a few bronze pieces. Considering that all the group of you have to your name is the pouch of coins attached to San’s waste, you have to know where to ration your spendings.

This is only on the necessities. San is trying to locate a cheap blacksmith to fashion him a new sword. Meanwhile, Woo and Seonghwa are searching if there’s anywhere for your group to stay that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. Bebbanburg is an expensive kingdom, and so long as you find a place with a roof and walls that doesn’t blow through all of your savings, you’ll consider yourselves lucky.

With all the men on their own errands and a new cloak purchased, you’ve had about an hour to kill before now, as you currently make your way to meet them back at the city center. You’ve spent it wandering, peering into shop windows but never making your way inside. You don’t have the money to spend, nor do you want the undivided attention of a shop-keeper when you’re trying to lay low.

You’ve passed a few of your wanted posters strown up about the town, plastered to bulletin boards, poles, and shop windows alike. On top of being newly adorned with a far more accurate portrait of yourself, they’ve also added the detail of your recent scars. Printed along the bottom is the following: “Last spotted travelling with three young men. Potentially dangerous. Approach with caution.”

As an incentive due to what you assume is the elevated danger risk, they’ve increased the reward for your capture or demise to 300,000 gold pieces.

Apparently, someone at the tavern ratted the group of you out. Likely Yeosang and his band of not-so-merry men, or perhaps the poor shop-keeper desperate for a bribe.

Either way, someone is on your tail. Considering the new addition to the posters, that someone is in this city.

You haven’t seen them yet, but you know that it’s the black-clad men. They have to be lurking around here somewhere, they’re just being quiet about it.

You swallow hard, pulling the hood of your cloak further down.

Fortunately, the street’s are bustling with people. Bebbanburg, while not quite as big as the four major kingdoms, is still a hub for tourism. With money to spend, the streets are clean, the buildings well-kept. Despite being a narrow path in the merchant’s district in town, the air smells fresh.

It doesn’t feel quite right, in your opinion. Between the few towns you’ve visited these past few weeks, there was a certain scent to the air that felt more…natural. A strange concoction of smells as different taverns and homes didn’t agree on a pre-set menu for the night, dirt and pebbles aligning the trails as hunters dragged home their latest catch, or the muddy hoof-prints left by horses that stick to the bottoms of your shoes.

Bebbanburg feels too polished. The sort of polished that takes an effort, that works extra hard to rid itself of anything it deems unclean.

Trying not to obsess too much over the fact, you do your best to retrace your steps in order to return to the city center, taking a turn down another street. A slight limp to your step, ankle still not having fully recovered from your fall off the cliff, you count the shop doors that you pass along the alley’s stone wall. You kept count on your way here in order to know which alley to take back.

Counting down the doors, you pass by a butcher’s shop, cafe, and Zarian boutique for rare gems, all of which you’d passed along the way here. Gaze fluttering passively over the alley next to the boutique, you nearly miss the pair of eyes that lock on your own. Cat-like gaze fixated on yours, the bottom half of the figure's face is covered by a black cloth, their head shrouded in a dark cloak.

You pause. Hesitant, you retrace your last few steps, peering back down the alley.

The figure’s cloak follows behind them as they disappear behind a winding turn.

Swallowing down the bile that arises in your throat as an unsettled chill creeps down your spine, you keep moving along your original route. It was just a stranger. You’re paranoid, on edge, searching to find shadows and enemies in places in which they are not there.

Nevermind how something about the stranger's gaze felt oddly…familiar. Although you cannot place from where.

You continue along your original path, turning down the alley that will take you back to the city center. Glancing over your shoulder, you see nobody behind you, just the bustle of people continuing their way down the mainstreet. You mentally scold yourself. You’re being ridiculous, and casting lingering glances as you loiter in one place for too long is only going to attract attention.

When you turn forward, you catch a glimpse of movement, as something disappears behind a wall up ahead of you. “Shit,” you think to yourself, rushing forward as you place your back against the stone wall, peeking an eye out to see if you can spot them.

All you can manage is the tail end of the dark cloak disappearing down another alleyway. You wait a moment, as if contemplating how daring - or foolish - you’re willing to be, before heading after them.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper to yourself, hand drifting to the hilt of the sword at your waist as you follow after the mysterious figure. However, even if unwise, you’d rather know your enemy and have them right in front of you compared to being stalked like prey. You’ll get slain in a fair fight any day before getting your throat slit from behind.

It’s a morbid thought, something San would likely say during combat practice, and you wonder if you’ve been spending too much time with these men.

Following the stranger, you keep quiet on your feet. Pulling the sword out from its sheath, you tread carefully, slowing your pace as you near the corner that the cloak had disappeared behind. Holding the sword firm in your grasp, you take a deep and shaky breath, before jumping to face your attacker.

Only to find there is nobody there, just another barren alleyway. Another alleyway that leads to nothing but a dead end, a stone wall looming tall before you.

You frown, confused at how this is possible. Your gaze darts around the narrow alleyway, searching for a cloaked figure, but it remains entirely empty.

Letting out a troubled sigh, you resheath your sword and turn back around.

Only to be met face first with the masked stranger.

Your breath dies in your throat, and you instinctively pull an arm back, aiming to strike them. However, as you swing forward, they narrowly dodge your strike, managing to grab your wrist instead. They twist it, not so hard as to dislodge anything, but enough that it disarms you. Then, using their free hand to push you backwards, they press you up against the stone wall. Elbow against your chest and hand gripping your upper arm, their spare hand grips tightly around your other wrist, rending you immobile.

Your chest heaves, not from tiredness but scheer panic. They’ve got you. Your gaze flickers up, to scan the face of your assailant. The person that will turn you in to the black-clad men, or is perhaps one themself.

The strangers' dark eyes meet yours from beneath their thick cloak, black orbs dancing as they move to scan over your face. Cat-like in their shape, with thick eye-lashes and brows.

Then the stranger laughs.

It’s not a menacing laugh, nor one you would expect from someone who is about to kill you. Instead it’s joyous, almost disbelieving.

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

The stranger’s eyebrows furrow together into a look of confusion, before lighting up in realization. “Oh!” They say, before doing the last thing you would have ever expected of removing their hands from you entirely. “Of course!”

The stranger pulls off the hood of their cloak, revealing a head of long, thick red hair. They follow the removal of their hood by doing the same with their mask, and with it, you are hit with a wave of not only relief, but scheer and unadulterated joy.

“Yeji!” You nearly shout, pulling your back from the wall and wrapping your arms around your old laundress.

She chuckles, and then you are both laughing. In happiness, in relief, in sheer and utter disbelief. You pull away, placing both of your hands along her jaw to cup her face. You scan every detail, to ensure that she is real and actually standing before you, not some sort of trick or illusion.

But is her, just as you had seen her last at the castle. Maybe not exactly the same, wearing far different clothes than the modest beige dress she had adorned as your laundress, hair worn loosely, and eyes holding more of an edge than they ever had before.

Still, it is Yeji.

Yeji with the shimmering grin and freckle on her nose. Yeji who you know, and knows you in return. Yeji from your castle. Your home.

Yeji, a relic from the past that has not been destroyed.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, following me around like that,” you laugh, taking one of your hands and giving her a slap on the shoulder, playful and not hard enough to actually hurt.

“Sorry,” she grins. “I didn’t want to attract any attention on the street. Figured it would be safer to lure you somewhere quiet, and you know, I also wanted to make sure it was actually you first.”

She then scoffs, returning the slap onto your own shoulder. “I didn’t expect you to pull out a sword on me! Where did you even get one of those?”

You consider answering, but a heavy cloud of unanswered questions hangs over the two of you, its presence loud and rattling like thunder. The jovial nature to your reunion cannot last long, not when there’s so much at stake, not when your world has crumbled to ash since you last spoke.

“What are you doing in Bebbanburg?” You ask, before realizing there’s a far more pressing question at hand. “How did you get out of the castle?”

Yeji smiles, placing her hand over one of your own along her cheek. “After what happened with the king in the ball-room, it was chaos,” she explains. “The Dark Army were rounding up and capturing all those who worked in the castle and may have been close to you.”

Your heart seizes at the statement, and your voice is quiet as you speak again. “Did they hurt them?”

“I don’t know,” Yeji replies, tone equally as somber. “A group of us laundresses escaped together using the underground tunnel system. I didn’t see what happened to those they had rounded up, but…”

She swallows hard, eyes pitiful as they meet your own. “But with how The Dark Army were talking, and the screams that followed behind us…I don’t think it would have ended well for them, Princess.”

Your throat swells at her admission, and it becomes more difficult to breathe as your eyes fill with the remnants of tears. Your mind is flooded with the unwelcome image of all of your old servants - your friends, as they had far surpassed their job description - tortured to try and probe them for information regarding you.

You wipe at your eyes with your hands, stuffing down the rising guilt and pain, placing a lid on these horrible thoughts. You will mourn later, when you have the time to properly grieve and honour all that they have lost because of you. For now, you must keep moving, deal with what is right in front of you.

“You keep calling them The Dark Army,” you begin, changing the subject. “Is that a made up title, or something they’ve defined themselves as? Do we know who they are?”

Yeji shakes her head. “Nobody knows who they are, it’s just what we’ve been calling them because of their armour. Not to mention the fact that they are about the sourest men I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve spoken to them?” You ask, scolding yourself for the fear that seizes in your chest at the thought of it. Of them being anywhere near her, or anyone you care about, for that matter.

She nods. “They’re poking around the city. Trying to keep a low profile, because Bebbanburg doesn’t like any semblance of war or conflict contaminating their streets, but they’re here. We try to keep to ourselves by not causing any trouble or disturbances and they mostly leave us alone.”

Your head buzzes at the confirmation that they are here, within the walls and perhaps a mere alley-way over, which is far, far too close.

“You keep saying we,” you note. “There’s more of you?”

Yeji nods, a soft smile grazing her lips. “Lot’s of us. We’ve set up a refugee camp on the outskirts of the city. Bebbanburg doesn’t want us here, because of course they don’t, but at least it’s safe. Not much crime or Anti-Libaiyan extremists in the city, so even if it’s not much, it’s all that we can really ask for.”

If she had told you this a couple weeks ago, you’d have been startled to know that there were Anti-Libaiyan extremists at all. However, having been given insight into the monstrosities your father was capable of, this no longer comes as a surprise, but rather expected.

“Can you take me to them?” You ask, and Yeji nods.

“Of course,” she says, grabbing your hand as she begins to walk back up the alley-way. “Although, I’d recommend keeping a low-profile, seeing that you're alive might cause a little too much excitement. Draw attention.”

You nod in agreement, following behind her through the winding alley-ways. It’s not until you’re almost back on the main city street that you remember why exactly you were trekking through the alleyways in the first place.

“Wait,” you say, stopping. Yeji turns to face you, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “There’s some people I need you to meet first.”

“Where have you been?” Woo asks as you approach. The three men have gathered around the fountain within the center of the city square, water spouting from the tall and golden statue into a small pond embedded with various coloured jewels along its rim. The falling water casts a veil of mist around them, as well as the various other groups gathered beside it. Many of them are tourists from different kingdoms, which you can recognize by the various types of clothing they wear, such as the vibrant coloured patchwork of the group next to you that is distinctly Zarian. It seems a prime spot to talk, the definition of hiding in plain sight.

“You were supposed to meet us here a half-hour ago,” Woo says with a scowl, before he notices Yeji beside you. His gaze flickers up and down, as if assessing her potential danger. “Who is this?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself, before motioning to her. “You guys, this is Yeji.”

She gives them a smile to which none of the men return, and for a moment you stand in silence.

“We’ve heard that one before,” Woo says.

Your face warms with embarrassment, and you clear your throat before beginning to explain. “This is the real Yeji, the girl whose name I used. She was one of my laundresses back at the castle, as well as a close friend.”

Another moment of silence follows, as none of the men appear to know what to say, or how to approach the appearance of a stranger.

Eventually, Seonghwa speaks, tone polite. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, to which Yeji returns the sentiment. Although he isn’t looking at you to see it, you cast Seonghwa a grateful smile all the same.

“This is Seonghwa, San, and Woo,” you say, pointing to each of them in turn. “They have been helping me get to Kuroku.”

“Thank you for aiding Her Highness,” Yeji says, placing a hand on her chest while delivering a curtsy. A sign of respect. Although…exceedingly formal respect.

San’s lips pull together into a stifled smile, and Woo raises an eyebrow.

“You, um, don’t have to do that,” you say, placing a hand on Yeji’s shoulder and gently tugging her upwards. “It’s not really like that.”

“Oh,” she says, straightening herself as her eyebrows raise in surprise. There’s a silence that follows, as well as a sense of discomfort that hangs in the air, as Yeji chews nervously on her lower lip.

And for all the love that you have for her, you know exactly what she’s thinking, as it’s been drilled into her since the moment she began to work at the castle: The demands of Libaiyan proprietary.

She ponders that if the relationship with this group of men escorting you is not formal, then what is it, and how far have you stretched the rules of etiquette that bind you?

You wouldn’t even know how to answer that question even if she asked.

Instead of dwelling on the subject and the lingering discomfort, you turn to Woo and Seonghwa. “Did the two of you find a place for us to stay the night?”

Woo scoffs in annoyance while Seonghwa shakes his head, defeated.

“Not anywhere reasonable,” Seonghwa says. “There’s a few places we can go if nightfall comes, but we honestly might be better off sleeping in the woods. It should be a clear night, and at least it won’t cost us an arm and a leg.”

You frown, not fond of the idea of spending yet another night on the ground, especially without a tarp or blanket to shield you from the elements.

Fortunately, Yeji pipes up from beside you. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve formed a refuge on the outskirts of the city. I believe we have an extra tent to spare.”

Now this finally causes the men’s expression to shift, the discomfort and wariness on each of their faces replaced with a glimpse of relief.

“Alright,” San says, gaze shifting over to you even as he speaks to Yeji, and his expression is difficult to read. He appears almost bemused. “Lead the way.”

The refuge, while about as bleak as you expected it to be, fills you with an undeniable sense of glee. Mostly due to how big it is, meaning that even if the mass size of the refuge indicates that there have been hundreds driven from the Libaiyan kingdom, there are also far more people who survived and escaped the castle than you’d originally thought.

Gathered just outside of Bebbanburg’s walls, dozens of the beige and tattered fabric tents are clumped together, creating a sort of maze as people make their way between the narrow passages. Head shrouded beneath your hood, the five of you pass through the different camps, ducking beneath laundry lines hanging between tent poles and maneuvering through the small groups gathered around make-shift fire pits as they roast small rodents and birds for dinner.

You watch their faces, searching amidst them for anger, for loss and resentment. While some are quiet, dark circles of tiredness hanging beneath their eyes, others are not so beaten down. There is the sound of laughter in the air, and a group of children nearly bump into you as they recklessly chase each other through the labyrinth of tents.

You smile. All is not lost.

You’d been so focused on your own survival, of getting to Kuroku alive and fighting to give your kingdom a chance, that you hadn’t realized the fear you had of there being no kingdom to fight for. Of not only the castle being besieged, but the entire kingdom being left in ashes.

Yet, even if this is so, there are still Libaiyans left. There is still a nation, full of life, that will not let themselves be stripped of their pride so easily.

“This way,” Yeji says softly, trying not to draw too much attention to your party. A group of girls wave to her as you pass by, and you recognize some of them as your kitchen maids, although you were never close enough to have learned their names.

The women are seated around a small fire. With the setting sun, they gather closed together, a blanket stretched over them. Or, upon closer look, a Libaiyan flag, its golden sun bright against its stark white background.

There is a man playing the lute sitting beside them. He has light eyes and a soft voice, fingers dancing as he strums the small wooden instrument in tune with his voice.

The man sings a Libaiyan folk song, one about a man arriving home to a small Libaiyan village after fighting many long years at war. The song doesn’t make clear which war exactly, centuries old and deriving from a time of high conflict, but it doesn’t really matter.

After all, the song is less about the war, and more about coming home. The ghosts of his fallen comrades following him, cane in hand to support his leg that will never heal, and his love having left the village to marry another man from the kingdom city.

The song is normally sung in a minor chord. It’s sad and melancholic, painting a tale of loss and grief.

However, the man currently singing has changed its tune to a major chord.

A message of triumph. Of defiance. Of the man’s survival, even after all else is lost and destroyed.

A song of hope.

You want to join them. To listen to this man sing your nation's song, to let his tune of triumph fill not only the air, but your entire body. Your heart, even your soul. Reignite the reason you started this journey, why you couldn’t give up.

These people need you. Your people need you.

Yeji wraps her arm around your wrist, giving you a gentle tug forward as you linger near the fire for a little too long.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “You’ll be able to hear his voice late into the night, even from your tent.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, how to depict your gratitude for all of this. For her taking you in and letting you hear these songs that you weren’t so sure you’d ever hear again, for being alive and granting you hope.

All you can do is reach to give her hand a soft squeeze, and hope she understands.

Yeji stops before a small tent, one that doesn’t seem big enough for two men, let alone three. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope it will do.”

“It’ll do,” Seonghwa answers with a smile.

“Especially considering we have no luggage,” Woo grumbles.

If Yeji hears the dissatisfaction in his voice, she doesn’t show it. “My own tent is just over there,” she says, pointing to what is only a few tents over. It’s a bit larger than the one before you, although not by much. She turns to you. “You can stay with me.”

You’re grateful for the sentiment, considering none of the men - except maybe San - would enjoy being forced to share such close quarters with you.

“There’s a table inside, if you’d all like to sit and regroup. I can catch you up on all that has happened since the siege,” Yeji says.

Her gaze flickers over to the three men, and it is hesitant. Curious, as it returns to you. “And you can do the same.”

“Scorpion beasts, a mimic, and a dragon-basilisk hybrid all in just a few weeks?” Yeji gapes, hands clutching tight around her mug of hot tea, as if she needs something to hold onto. “And you’re alive?”

“I take it your journey here wasn’t so exciting?” San asks, sipping his own mug. He seems in good spirits today, as he willingly engages in conversation with Yeji. Especially compared to Seonghwa - who is more hesitant, likely less willing to jump the gun on trusting a new stranger - and Woo, who sits with his eyes bearing down into the table, not touching his mug even as the tea inside grows cold.

“No, we took the main path down the Arila River, so far less rural,” Yeji explains. “Although it was a good thing you didn’t do the same. There were Dark Army ports all along its bank. We were stopped and searched at every one of them.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt from Yeji’s recollection of the besiegement and the time that followed, it’s that the black-clad men are relentless in their pursuit. They want you, at any cost. You only wish you knew who they were, so at least then you’d know why.

“I really am glad you’re alive, Princess,” Yeji says suddenly, hand drifting to rest on your own atop the table. “Libaiya has a chance to be strong again, so long as your blood sits on the throne. You’ll make the perfect Queen.”

You open your mouth to thank her, albeit bashfully, but are cut off as Woo pushes himself from the table. It rattles in protest, although the elemental does not seem to care, as he stomps towards the tent-flap. He does not meet any of your eyes as he disappears beneath it.

“I’m sorry,” Yeji says, tone worried. “Did I say something to-”

“It’s not you,” San reassures her. “He’s just been dealing with a lot lately.”

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say, because you have a feeling about what may be bothering him. Your blood, as Yeji had said. Although to him, it’s more like poison.

“No,” Seonghwa cuts you off, already rising to his feet. “You shouldn’t, I don’t think he’d take it well. I’ll go.”

You want to protest, as Seonghwa does not know about Woo’s past, about the orphanage. The Libaiyan orphanage, and all the horrors that happened there. But the empath is already heading towards the tent flap, and the words die on your lips.

Even so, maybe he is right. Woo is upset, upset about you and your nation, perhaps you are not the one who should attempt to console him. Besides, Seonghwa has always been far better at that.

Yet, as you watch Seonghwa disappear after Woo, you have the sinking feeling it may not go as the empath plans.

Wooyoung cannot breathe.

Making his way blindly through the darkness of the refuge, the sun having set over the horizon, he pushes past Libaiyan’s as he heads for the exit. They turn and look at him as he shoves past, and he wonders if they know. If they can smell it on him.

“You were his,” they whisper as he walks by, or is that just in his head? “One of his dogs. Our dogs. A machine for use. Worthless.”

The last word is in Warden’s voice, and Wooyoung places a hand over his ears to try and tune it out. The other clutching his chest.

He can’t breathe. By the god’s, he really can’t breathe.

Each short pant is as unsatisfying as the next. He feels dizzy, wanting to summon a ball of flame to guide him, but he can’t seem to move his hands in front of him. He pushes forward, searching for an exit through the mazes of tents.

Then he’s covered in something. It’s thin, engulfing him, and panic rises hot in his chest. They’ve gotten him. Again. It’s happening again. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

It’s only after nobody attempts to drag him away and he gets a whiff of soap that he realizes that what covers him is not a bag, but someone's laundry. With shaky hands, he untangles himself from the fabric, before glancing down at his captor.

It’s a Libaiyan flag.

The bright, golden, and horrible sun stares back at him. The same one hung in the cafeteria, the one he pledged allegiance to three times a day. The one plastered atop the ceiling of his bedroom, watching him every night. The one deckled on Warden’s shoulder, as he tortured them relentlessly, as he murdered Yeonjun.

Wooyoung throws it to the ground, hands still shaking as he walks over it, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe stark against the flag’s white background.

“Woo!” A voice calls from behind him, but it sounds far away. Maybe it’s also just in his head. He keeps walking.

He can hear the sound of the same man singing as when you’d all entered the camp. He has a nice voice as he sings Libaiyan songs. Songs he’s never heard. Songs that were reserved for Libaiyan citizens, not slaves.

Wooyoung’s throat burns with the taste of Libaiyan tea. Only one sip, and it will not leave his tongue.

It tasted like the infirmary tent after Assessment Day in the orphanage. Before Warden got there, but not before Wooyoung got beaten within the sparring ring. They’d given him the tea to calm him down, try and make him forget the burns lacing up and down his arms.

With the taste on his tongue it’s as if he can feel them again, the searing pain starting in his mind and seeping into his skin.

“Woo, hold on!” The voice calls again, closer than the last. This time Wooyoung knows it’s not in his head, as he recognizes it to be Seonghwa. The sound of foot-steps follows behind him, as the empath chases after him.

He does not turn around. He needs to get out of this place.

Wooyoung begins to run.

Tearing through the refuge, he sees Bebbenburg’s outer walls appear ahead of him, the light emitted from the lanterns hung on the outside fortress drawing him in like a beacon.

When he reaches the wall, he makes sure to take a few steps inside and past the gates, to ensure that he is no longer within Libaiyan territory. Here, he is within the Kuroken realm. Safe.

He pauses to catch his breath, less from the running and more from the panic that has seized him. Hands placed on his knees, Wooyoung lets the foggy haze fade from his mind, although it does not relinquish control so easily. His heart continues to race, ears ringing with a constant buzz.

Wooyoung doesn’t know why this is affecting him so horribly. He’s been to the Libaiyan castle since entering the orphanage, having stolen plenty of Libaiyan treasures and heirlooms on their heists within the castle.

Then again, that was in the dark of the night, when there were no songs to be sung or tea to be drunk. When the flags were shrouded in pure shadow, not wrapped around him like bonds of rope.

That was when he was in control. That was when he was taking from them. That was revenge.

That was before he entangled himself with their princess.

“Woo, what the hell?” Seonghwa asks as he approaches, slightly out of breath from chasing down the elemental. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” Wooyoung says, because it is all he can manage. He doesn’t look up at Seonghwa, instead staring at the cobblestone beneath his shoes, blinking blearily as he tries to direct his focus to its stone patch-work.

“Why did you just storm out of there?” Seonghwa asks. He’s not mad. Not yet. He genuinely wishes to know.

“Because of what that woman said,'' Wooyoung answers in his mind. “Because it’s true, she is the Libaiyan throne. Because it is her blood that’s done all of this. That did this to me.”

Wooyoung, of course, does not actually say any of this out loud. Seonghwa won’t understand. He doesn’t know, not only about Wooyoung’s past, but the orphanages in general. He’s from a small town within Zaria’s realm, far away from any news about Libaiyan political treachery.

He won’t get it, and Wooyoung isn’t going to even bother to try and explain it to him, especially when his tongue feels three sizes too large and his heart beats at a million times per minute.

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” he mutters, turning away from Seonghwa and heading deeper into Bebbanburg, hoping the empath will take the hint and piss off.

But he doesn’t, because after all, it’s Seonghwa. The blonde follows after him. “Where are you going to go, Woo? You saw the poster, it’s better to stay together, keep a low profile.”

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” Wooyoung repeats, beginning to walk faster, tone a little more pointed.

“Is this about her?” Seonghwa asks, and now his own tone is rising, annoyed as has to jog to catch up to the elemental. “Look I know you’re mad, I am too. But can’t you just push that aside? We’re almost to Kuroku, then we’ll be past it. We can move on.”

“Right. We’ll get to Kuroku. She’ll leave. San will leave. And then inevitably, you will too.”

After being met with silence, Seonghwa lets out a groan of annoyance, continuing to chase after him.

“Woo, stop!” He calls, reaching out to grab Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung slaps his hand away, perhaps a little harder than he should have. “Can’t we just talk about this? Can’t we have an actual conversation for once instead of you shoving me away?”

Wooyoung keeps moving, because no, they can’t. Not right now. Not like this. Not when he can’t think straight.

“I don’t get what you have to be so mad about anyway!”

Wooyoung stops at this, finally turning around to face Seonghwa. “What?”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, eyes wide and mouth parted with surprise that Wooyoung actually stopped. Then he frowns, eyebrows furrowing together, as if remembering his annoyance.

“Yes, she lied to you,” Seonghwa starts. “And I know it sucks. But it’s San’s money on the line, and clearly he’s been able to forgive her.”

Seonghwa swallows hard. “And even if I haven’t been able to do the same, even after all she’s done to me I’m willing to swallow my own feelings to get this journey done. For them.”

Them. By that Seonghwa means San and you. You, after all that you have done - to Seonghwa, to San, to Wooyoung himself - he’s still choosing you.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t, Hwa!” Wooyoung says, and now he’s shouting. It’s good. The anger provides him comfort, something familiar to latch onto. “She used you! She used all of us! I know you have this deep-seeded issue of thinking everyone and everything has good in them, but open your eyes! Not all that glitters is fucking gold! A pair of pretty eyes doesn’t repair what she’s done, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t rotten inside!”

“Just as you are too,” a voice reminds him within his mind, but he ignores it.

Seonghwa opens his mouth to cut back, but Wooyoung is not finished. “She lied through her teeth, and you’re really just going to let it slide? Keep quiet because it’ll make things easier for her? For the sake of the gods, grow a spine!”

“Why do you care so much about what I do?” Seonghwa yells back, taking a step towards Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s fist is clenched at his side, and for a moment Wooyoung thinks that Seonghwa might actually hit him. He almost wishes he would.

“Why do you care if I forgive her? Why do you care so much about whether I let people walk all over me? Why do you care?”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he does it.

Maybe it’s the way his mind still buzzes from moments prior, hazy and foggy and unable to think of anything beyond his anger. Anything beyond the way his heart pounds rapidly and vision blurs with an anxious haze.

Maybe it’s the way Seonghwa’s words sting, more than Wooyoung wants to admit, and he wishes to prove the man wrong. Show him that it’s not so simple. Win, in a strange and possibly fucked up way, but win nonetheless.

Or maybe, more than anything, it’s the way Seonghwa is looking at him. Big brown eyes scanning his face, full of anger, but also passion. Desperately searching for an answer, as if there will be a solution to the enigma that is Wooyoung hidden somewhere on the elemental’s face.

Wooyoung knows what the answer is that Seonghwa seeks.

It’s the part of himself that Wooyoung has never admitted exists. The part that he has shoved down, smothered, pretended wasn’t there. The part that flutters at the sound of Seonghwa whining at his teasing. The part that stalls when Seonghwa lets his hand fall onto Wooyoung’s shoulder, thinking nothing of it, simply trying to get the elemental's attention or leaning in to point out something in the distance.

The part that broke the first night you and Seonghwa spent together. Defeated, angry, and beaten down, crawling into his bed that night in a drunken stooper, aching at the thought of the elemental being intimate with someone. Well, someone else.

The part that he once again shoved away the next morning, and had every day before and has every day since.

It’s that part of himself that he’s dejected and ignored that now comes crawling to the surface, invited by Seonghwa’s searching eyes, that unleashes its presence in a way that will make itself known. That will ensure it will no longer be forgotten, that it cannot be ignored or subdued again.

That part of Wooyoung unleashes itself in the form of a kiss.

It’s a horrible one, teeth smashing into teeth as Wooyoung grabs onto the collar of Seonghwa’s tunic and roughly pulls the man into him. In fact, it’s less of a kiss compared to two faces smashing together, Seonghwa clearly not prepared for it, but the message is sent all the same.

Wooyoung holds him there for three seconds, which feel far more like an eternity as they pass by.

Then Wooyoung pushes Seonghwa off of him, letting go of the man’s collar as the blonde stumbles back.

For a moment they stand in silence, and it’s a deafening one. Seonghwa’s hand drifts up to his lips, grazing them, eyes wide as he stares at Wooyoung. He’s clearly in a state of shock, as he says nothing, just stares with his mouth parted open in disbelief.

“There,” Wooyoung breathes. “Do you get it?”

Seonghwa continues to stare at him. Then his eyebrows furrow together, and when he begins to speak, Seonghwa’s tone is incredulous. “Woo, what are you-”

“Forget it,” Wooyoung cuts him off, because he doesn’t want to know what Seonghwa is going to say. He doesn’t want to hear the empath call him crazy, ask him what the hell he’s thinking.

Because Wooyoung doesn’t know the answer to that either. The mind-numbing fog has returned to his head, his heart racing even faster than it had before.

He needs to get out of here.

“Just go back to the tent, Hwa,” Wooyoung says, and then his feet are set in motion. He heads deeper into Bebbanburg, away from the Libaiyan tent. Away from you and San. Away from what he’s done, the irreversible mistake he just made.

He runs away, and this time Seonghwa doesn’t follow him.

“What were you thinking, what were you thinking, what were you thinking?” Wooyoung repeats the question to himself over and over again in his head, trying to make sense of what he’s done.

The look of bewilderment on Seonghwa’s face, followed by incredulity. Shock, then disbelief. Almost angry, and why shouldn’t he be? How could Wooyoung do something like this? Something so blatantly stupid and thoughtless?

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Wooyoung still cannot come up with an answer, because frankly, he wasn’t thinking. And he still can’t.

He turns down one of the many alley’s surrounding him, head buzzing, not a clue of where he’s going. All he knows is that it’s away, and for now, that is enough for him.

Wooyoung closes his eyes, hand trailing along the wall beside him as he runs. He feels silly, running with his eyes closed, but he cannot bring himself to keep them open. This way, the world around him fades. He can simply be moving, feel the air rush past him, and pretend that nothing happened.

There are no Libaiyan refugees a few alleyways over. He does not care for the Liabiyan princess, nor did he lose San a mere night ago. He did not reveal his feelings to a man he loves and ruin their entire friendship in one fell swoop.

He is merely running in the darkness, chest heaving for air, fingers scraping along the cobblestone wall.

Maybe, if he keeps running like this, he’ll actually have escaped it all.

Or maybe, running like this is not such an acceptable option, as it stops him from noticing the figure that has been following after him.

Wooyoung does not notice he is being followed until it is too late. Until he’s already been shoved sideways, face smacking into the stone wall beside him.

At the very least, the blows knock him from his stupor, and his eyes fly open as he stumbles. Whirling to face his attacker, fire ignites immediately within his hand, dancing in between his fingers.

However, the second he turns, he’s met with a swift punch to the jaw that catches him off guard. Mostly because it does not come from where he can feel the man beside him - who now pins Wooyoung’s wrist to the alley-wall - but from the other side.

It’s not one attacker, but many.

“Shit,” Wooyoung thinks to himself, spitting out the blood that fills his mouth, the metallic taste thick on his tongue and gritty between his teeth. Eyes searching the darkness around him, his attackers are nothing more than blurs within the night, and he gives the one in front of him a swift kick to the groin. The man lets out a long string of curses, and Wooyoung uses the opportunity to try and rush forward.

It’s of no use, as another man (or two, maybe even three?) pins his wrists to the wall.

It’s not the most efficient way to capture a person, as it leaves their legs functional to kick and mouth free to spit, bite, or scream for help.

Unless, of course, you’re capturing an elemental.

Wooyoung tries to summon fire into his hands, and while it manages to dance around his fingers, the inability to move his arms stops him from managing anything greater. He tries to summon the flame with only his mind, staring at his hand with sheer determination. He knows it’s possible, he’s done it before. Once. The night Yeonjun died.

Of course, he didn’t exactly mean to, and apparently it isn’t the sort of thing he can do by will, as his hands remain barren of flame.

Instead, he’s left helpless, pulling against the grips of the men that bind him. His eyes dart amongst the shadows that surround them, and he tally’s roughly ten of them, although he’s certain that there’s more as he hears shouts from down the alley-way.

One of the men’s hands digs into Wooyoung’s hair, pulling his head forward before slamming it back into the stone-wall. Hard.

Stars dance before Wooyoung, and a darkness creeps into the corners of his vision. He continues to kick out in front of him, although each swing is far weaker than the last, as the pain leaves him sluggish.

The man yanks on his hair again, before slamming his head back into the wall once more, and suddenly Wooyoung is on the ground.

He doesn’t remember crumpling, but the stone pathway is cold against his back, so he must have passed out for a moment. He opens his eyes, vision swaying as he tries to make out the men surrounding him.

He can vaguely spot the face of the man above him. Middle-aged, with a dark beard and intense eyes. He speaks to someone beside him, although Wooyoung’s mind is too muddled to make out the actual words.

Likely not thugs then, as they aren’t even bothering to hide their identities. Besides, there’s too many of them to be a regular mugging. Too conspicuous, so it must be targeted.

But if it’s targeted, then who are they?

“W-who?” He asks, because the full sentence is far too much effort. His words are slurred and he sounds drunk. Which to be fair is an awful lot like how he feels.

The man above him doesn’t answer, but instead places a hand on Wooyoung’s throat, silencing him. With his other two hands, the man pins Wooyoung’s wrists to the ground.

No, no, that doesn’t make any sense. He can't have three hands. Which means it must be somebody else pinning his wrists to the ground, as well as another that slips the cloth bag over his head. How many were there again?

By the god’s Wooyoung really can’t think right now.

“Knock him out,” one of the men speaks from above him. Now that Wooyoung can make out.

Then the world goes black.

“And he seriously didn’t tell you where he was going?” San asks, arms crossed as he leans against the training post outside of the men’s tent. It’s covered in grooves, clearly crafted by a sword, and one in the hands of someone not too pleased. A testament to San’s opinion on Woo not returning to the refuge last night.

“I already told you,” Seonghwa replies. His tone is also frustrated as he sits at an outside table, fingers tapping anxiously in rhythm with his jittering leg. “No. He didn’t.”

“He just took off?” San repeats, and you can understand why Seonghwa is becoming a bit annoyed. It’s also the third time you’ve heard San ask, although you have a feeling the swordsman isn’t actually expecting the answer to change. He simply wants to hear it again, to let him fuel the flame of his annoyance. “Without a word? Without a reason? Out into a city we’re currently being hunted in?”

Seonghwa’s eyes shift to the ground. “Yes.”

“And you let him?”

Seonghwa scowls at this. “What did you want me to do? You know Woo, he’s going to do what he wants no matter what anyone says or thinks.”

Seonghwa has been in a sour mood all morning, and something tells you there may be a little more to Woo leaving than he may be letting on. However, now is not the time to ponder what it might be, nor is it the time to start a fight. You simply need to find him.

“Let’s not start bickering with one another just because Woo’s not around to start it,” you say, attempting to remedy the argument before it can start. Fortunately, neither of the men are overly confrontational, at least not with each other.

“You’re right,” San sighs, turning to Seonghwa. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed, I know it’s not your fault.”

Seonghwa gives San a sort of half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before staring back down at his shoes. He appears to immediately lose himself in thought, knee bouncing anxiously.

Yeah, something definitely happened last night.

“This isn’t like him,” San says, pulling his sword out from his sheath and spinning it around in his hand. A nervous habit. “Staying out for the night, sure. But he’s always back by the next day. Always.”

With morning long past, the sun high in the sky with the arrival of late noon, San’s statement of “always” is replaced with “until today”, and a sense of uneasiness passes through you.

Something is wrong. You can feel it.

And with both San’s sword spinning in his hand and the sound of Seonghwa’s fingers tapping the table, you know that they can feel it too.

“I think we should go looking for him,” you say, expecting immediate approval. Instead both men look at you, and San shoots Seonghwa a side glance, to which the empath returns.

“What?” You ask, uncomfortable at the fact that it appears they’re both in on something you’re not.

San sighs. “You shouldn’t come.”

“What?” You say, this time with far more anger than confusion. “If Woo’s in danger then of course I’m going to come-”

“If Woo’s in danger then it’s likely because of the men who are looking for you,” San cuts you off, and while his tone is not accusatory, it is pointed.

You prepare a rebuttal, but it dies on your lips. San is right.

If the black-clad men have done something to Woo, then you going looking for him is likely exactly what they would want for you to do. While the stubborn part of you wants to go anyway, put Woo’s safety before your own. Be daring, bold, and perhaps a little stupid, just as Woo is in the face of danger, you know that this is not an option.

You need to get to Kuroku, and if you aren’t yet certain of the danger Woo may be in, you cannot afford to take such blatant risks.

“Alright,” you say, tone defeated as Seonghwa rises to his feet, San making his way towards the path leading outside of the refuge.

You don’t manage the next words until they’ve already left. Leaving you alone, face shrouded by your hood, suddenly aware of the wind’s chill nipping at your skin. The seasons are turning.

“Good luck.”

They are back sooner than you expected.

You sit at a table with Yeji, playing a game of Skirmish. A traditional Libaiyan game meant for children, due to the fact it has few rules and never really ends, so it can keep them occupied for hours. You didn’t particularly want to play, but Yeji said it might help to keep your mind distracted. You figured it was worth a shot.

It didn’t work.

However, it doesn’t matter, as when both San and Seonghwa approach from down the refuge’s path, the cards are forgotten. Tossing your deck to the side, you give San a look, one that asks: “Any luck?”. Although, you’re fairly certain of the answer, as there is no Woo in tow behind them.

San does not give you a look of his own. In fact, he does nothing. He simply stares back at you, a dead look to his eye.

It’s that look, the emptiness of it, that tells you something has gone wrong.

“What happened?” You ask as he approaches, although San does not reply. Instead he gives Seonghwa a fleeting glance, and the blonde meets it. His own expression is not as empty as San’s. In fact, it is the opposite. Brimming with emotion, Seonghwa’s eyes hold worry, mouth drawn tight, jaw clenched. A look of nothing less than pure fear.

“Seonghwa?” You ask, your own worry settling deep in your chest. Something has gone wrong, but what, and how badly?

The blonde doesn’t answer you with words, instead he moves towards the table. You hadn’t noticed before, but he holds something in his hands. The paper is a light tan colour, the size also familiar, and you recognize it to be one of your wanted posters. Immediately you're confused, as why would Seonghwa show you one of these? You’ve already seen dozens of them plastered all over Bebbanburg.

However, as he lays it down onto the table, the answer is blatantly obvious.

The paper is smeared with blood. The red stark against its light colouring, it doesn’t coat the poster fully, but is rather smothered haphazardly, the semblance of fingerprints notable. It’s testament to a job done quickly, as whoever did this did so with one purpose: to get a message across.

The message is made even more clear by the thick, dark lock of hair tied to the corner of the page.

Woo’s.

Beneath the lock of hair is writing, scrawled in black ink.

The Concursos Mountain Pass.

Three Days.

Wooyoung awakens to the back of his head pounding in a violent, aching fashion. The world sways in front of him, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is exactly.

However, at the sight of tarps on all sides of him, the tent coated in darkness as only the light of the setting evening sun is able to get through, he remembers.

Right, the Libaiyan refuge.

Wooyoung groans, blinking as he tries to get his eyes to focus, his pounding head making his thoughts difficult to string together.

He moves his hand, attempting to wipe the sweat beading along his forehead, only to realize that he can’t.

His hands are tied.

Eyebrows furrowing together, he looks over his shoulder. The chains that tie his wrists to the chair that he sits in are thick and made of iron. If he tried to melt his bonds with the fire between his fingers, rather than catching fire like rope, they’d heat up and burn his wrists.

“What the…” He croaks out, throat raspy. Who would have tied him to a chair? Surely not Seonghwa or San. Not very likely you, as he couldn't see what good that would do you. Maybe your friend, the Libaiyan patriot? But why?

Wait.

Wooyoung’s brain pauses, mind doing a double-take as he stares at his bonds, noting bruising along his wrist. The massive purple marks are dark against his bronzed skin, and are almost line-shaped, as if someone had been holding him.

No, he’s not in the Libaiyan refuge, he’s somewhere else.

The memories of last night come rushing back to him. Running from the tent. The fight with Seonghwa. The subsequent kiss with Seonghwa.

His capture.

The shock of it is enough to cause Wooyoung to jolt awake, mind finally clearing even if the pain at the back of his head does not subside.

As if sensing Wooyoung’s realization, a man appears from under the tent-flap. He’s older, his face like a worn-glove, leathery and wrinkled in its places most used. His dark hair is cropped short, although his beard remains long, as well as scruffy.

Most notably, he’s dressed entirely in black armour. One of your predators.

“Ah, good. You’re awake,” the man says, and his voice is not as deep as Wooyoung expected.

“Who are you and-”

“Don’t speak. Not everyone has arrived yet,” the man cuts him off dismissively. “Besides, we’ll be the ones asking the questions.”

“Oh, my mistake, I thought-”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he is surprised by the slap, but he is. Maybe because he hadn’t even had the chance to say the insult he was planning yet. Usually the hit would at least come afterwards.

These men, they aren’t playing around, that is clear.

His cheek stings, and he can imagine the bright red mark appearing along his skin as more men in dark armour appear from under the tent-flap. Wooyoung is surprised by the amount of them that manage to crowd into the space, almost a dozen.Then again, it is a big tent. Mostly empty, other than a small table in the corner, scattered with a variety of knick-knacks and spices that seem non-sensensical. Lunadore pollen, silver beads, Alagor Root, and a bunch of other rare ingredients the Wooyoung does not have time to make sense of, although set him on edge nonetheless.

If they plan to torture him, the table should be full of knives. Hammers. Maybe a few pliers to pull off his fingernails. Not plants.

The man who slapped him - their leader, it seems - clears his throat, and the group of men fall silent. Each of them turn to face Wooyoung, eyes glinting with something dark, something that says that they know more than he does.

Wooyoung makes sure to give each of them in turn a glare.

“I’m sure you know who we are by now,” the man says.

Wooyoung considers playing dumb, maybe earning himself a matching slap on the other cheek. However, he needs information, which means at least for now he must play along.

“You attacked the Libaiyan castle. Killed their king,” Wooyoung answers, meeting the man’s gaze. His eyes are sharp, intimidating, and Wooyoung makes sure not to look away. Not to show any fragility. Even if he has been made into the weakest in the room, he need not show it.

“People have been calling you The Dark Army,” Wooyoung says, and then because he can’t help himself, adds: “Cute name. Very scary. Did you come up with it yourselves?”

The man doesn’t answer his question, but instead smirks. “If you know who we are, I’m sure you also know what we’re looking for.”

You. That’s the answer the man wants. But Wooyoung won’t give that to him. “Power?” He ventures instead. “Glory? Access to the king’s many bejeweled robes?”

The man steps forward, grabbing Wooyoung's face in his hand. His fingers squeeze Wooyoung’s jaw, so much so that it not only hurts, but prevents him from speaking.

“Enough playing coy,” the man says. He still does not seem angry, face blank and tone almost bored as he grips Wooyoung’s face between his fingers. “Tell me where she is.”

He eases his grip just enough to let Wooyoung speak. “Where who is?”

The man’s grip tightens once again, fingernails digging into the elemental’s skin, and Wooyoung forces himself not to wince. “The girl you’ve been running all over Burovia with. The princess turned convict. Ring any bells?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wooyoung manages. At this the man lets go of his jaw, but it’s only to deliver another slap that burns along his cheek. The man grips his jaw again, and Wooyoung struggles to focus on the man’s face, blinking away the stars that dance across his vision.

“Yes, you do,” the man says, and this time his tone is almost soft, gentle as he attempts to coax out an answer. Somehow it’s far more unsettling than the blankness. “Is she with the refugees? At one of the hostels, or even a tavern?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Wooyoung says through gritted teeth. This time the man does not slap him, but instead grips his hair as he brings Wooyoung face down into his knee. Pain radiates from his nose through the rest of his face, and when the man lifts him back up, it takes Wooyoung a moment to register the man’s face before him through the blurriness.

It’s not until now that Wooyoung realizes the severity of the danger that he is in.

They want him to hand you over to them, and Wooyoung can’t do that.

But why can’t he do that? It would be the easiest thing to do. Nobody would blame him, after everything that you’ve done, especially if it came down to choosing between his own life or yours. San and Seonghwa would understand.

You are the Libaiyan Princess. Your family sent him to the orphanage. Turning you in would rid himself of the volatile confusion that has plagued him, it would fulfill the dream that his younger self wished for every night and morning. So why can’t he do it?

He knows the answer. How he feels towards you has grown beyond hatred. It’s grown beyond mere toleration for San and Seonghwa’s sake. It’s grown beyond the excuses he’s been telling himself for weeks.

He’s not going to hand you over to them to die, no matter what that may mean for himself. Unfortunately, what that may mean for himself is not looking good.

“You’re going to tell us,” the man states, not to persuade, but to simply state as fact. “It’s just a matter of how much you’re willing to put yourself through before you do.”

“Well I have nothing but time,” Wooyoung answers, grinning, and he knows his teeth are bloody. Can feel the grittiness on his teeth, or maybe that’s still from the night before.

The man smiles back. “You have three days.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m just such lovely company?”

“Because that’s how long we’ve given her to come find you.”

Wooyoung pauses at this, and he knows he’s shown a glimpse of weakness. How did they get a message to you? Is he bluffing?

Would you really be stupid enough to come after him?

“Nobody will come,” Wooyoung says, and even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Surely you wouldn’t come after him. Not when you’re so close to Kuroku, to San’s freedom. You have to keep going, there’s no way you, San, and Seonghwa could take on a dozen armed and highly trained men, especially considering there’s more of them out there somewhere. It would be pointless, a suicide mission.

But Wooyoung also knows that none of you would leave him behind to die.

“That’s fine,” the man says with a shrug. “Either she comes to us, or we go to her with the information you’ll give us. It doesn’t matter.”

“You aren’t going to be able to torture anything out of me,” Wooyoung says with a scoff, tilting his chin up, defiant. “Pain? Yeah, I’ve been through my share.”

The corner of the man’s lip curves upward, eyes gleaming. “I know. That’s what they told me.”

Wooyoung frowns. They?

The man chuckles at Wooyoung’s weary expression, finally letting go of his hold on the elemental’s jaw. The group of soldiers step back, creating a pathway for him as the man heads over to the table covered with rare ingredients and spices.

The man begins to fiddle around with them, although what exactly he’s doing Wooyoung can’t make out, his vision obscured by the other men standing before him.

“Do you know what they say about those whose body cannot be broken?” The man calls over his shoulder, and Wooyoung catches a glimpse of what is in his hand: a small bowl and mallet, which he uses to grind down the Alagor Root.

“No,” Wooyoung answers, wary.

“Break their mind instead,” the man states, holding up a small vial of purple liquid that Wooyoung cannot identify, before pouring into the bowl. A strange, dark and odorous smoke wafts up from the concoction. It smells like something burning, although what exactly Wooyoung cannot place. That is, until he can. It’s burnt flesh. It reminds him of the infirmary tent, of his scorched arms.

An inkling of fear settles into Wooyoung’s chest as he becomes increasingly aware of the bonds on his wrist. He can’t move, run, fight back, or do anything, really.

For a man with so much power, he’s grown accustomed to never feeling powerless. For a moment, it’s like he’s thirteen again. At Warden’s disposal and no fire to call his own.

The man places the empty vile back down on the table, before grabbing something else Wooyoung cannot see, although he can hear the sizzling noise it makes as he adds it to the bowl.

Wooyoung cannot take the silence any longer, his curiosity - or better, fear - overtaking him. “What are you doing?” He asks.

Instead of answering him, the man begins to mutter something beneath his breath, making a strange circular motion with his hand above the bowl, which he has set back down on the table. Wooyoung cannot make out what he is saying, but the way the words leave his lips is almost rhythmic, like a priest delivering a chant.

Wooyoung scowls, opening his mouth to interrogate the other men around him as to what the hell is going on, but the words die on his tongue. He knows what the man is doing.

It’s part of the Old Faith. Old Magic.

Dark magic.

Wooyoung has never been a devoted servant to the gods. In fact, for all of his life he’s hated them. He hated them as a child for giving him a gift he could not use. He hated them as a teenager for cursing him with the power to destroy everything he held dear. He hates them as an adult for idly standing by as all of the horrible events of his childhood tumbled down one after the other.

However, even with his hatred towards the gods, he’s always considered worshiping them to be far more understandable than the Old Faith. More particularly, the Old Magic aspect.

It’s a breach of order. If the gods blessed the gifted with their powers, then Old Magic defies that. It’s taking from the earth what was not given to you. It’s blasphemous. Immoral and unnatural. At its very core wrong.

Wooyoung tugs at the chains around his wrists, which clatter in protest. Panic begins to rise in his chest, as one thought fills his head: “What the fuck are they going to do to me?”

The man finishes his chant, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a miniature knife. He uses it to create a small cut along the tip of his finger, holding it above the bowl as a drop of blood collects around the wound, before dropping into the potion.

Smiling to himself in satisfaction, the man takes the bowl with him as he heads back towards Wooyoung. Stopping before him, the man takes a moment to meet the elemental’s eyes, that glimmer of darkness potent within his gaze.

Wooyoung does not look away, but by the gods, he wants to.

“Well,” the man says. “Open up.”

Wooyoung keeps his mouth shut, lips pursing together. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feeling its thump throughout his entire body. He can’t drink that. He isn’t sure what it will do, but he knows that its something horrible.

It will break his mind. That is what the man had said.

And while Wooyoung has always had confidence in his abilities, perhaps even relied on himself more than he should, for the first time that confidence falters.

“So this is what it takes for you to be quiet,” the man jests, earning a few chuckles from the others around him. “Good to know.”

When Wooyoung doesn’t reply, the man nods to a couple of the soldiers beside him. “Open his mouth.”

Four of the men approach him, and Wooyoung fights against the bonds of his chair, even if he knows it’ll be pointless. The chains against his wrists and ankles hold him still, and as two of the men grab his shoulders to stop the chair from rattling, he’s left with nothing but twisting his face away from the men who grab at him.

Hands blur across his vision as he feels one of the men press an arm to his throat. Another digs into his scalp, pulling his hair in order to bring his head back and face upwards. Fingers claw at the crevices of his face, digging beneath his cheekbones, into his ears, scratching along his lips.

It’s overwhelming, but Wooyoung stays focused, repeating over and over again in his mind, “Don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth.”

It’s not until the elbow pressing into his throat has been there for a little too long that Wooyoung registers that he needs to breathe. Black lines creeping into the corners of his vision, head beginning to feel foggy, he does his best to ignore it.

Until he can’t any longer. Against his mind’s will, when the man removes his elbow from the elemental’s throat, Wooyoung gasps for air.

The men do not waste the opportunity.

Fingers dig themselves into his mouth, and while he attempts to bite down on them, their force is too strong as the many hands pull back his cheeks. Limbs bound, hair pinned, and face pulled back, he’s left helpless as the man with the bowl approaches him.

As the man lifts the bowl above the elemental’s face, a smile grazes over his lips, and Wooyoung knows that he is enjoying this.

The liquid burns as it pours down his throat, rubbing like sand-paper along his tongue. It tastes familiar. Like stale bread, but worse. Rotten with mold. Wooyoung gags but the man does not stop, not until the final drops fall from the bowl and into his open mouth.

The men do not release him until he swallows the concoction, and he feels it as it settles down into his gut, twisting and turning like cheap whiskey.

Wooyoung attempts to catch his breath, chest heaving and sweat beading along his forehead as he looks at the man before him. He continues to smile that awful, wretched grin, empty bowl in hand.

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard,” the man says, for no other reason but to rub salt in the wound.

Wooyoung spits on his shoes.

The man does nothing, merely takes a few steps back as he continues to watch Wooyoung with an analytical gaze, as if observing whatever the hell is supposed to happen. For a few moments, Wooyoung feels nothing but the tension that hangs in the room as all of the men stare at him. He feels like a monster in a cage, like one of those griffin’s from a traveling circus he saw passing through Gloria many years ago. Undeniably dangerous, but stripped down to a mere display for people to gawk at.

Then he notices it. It doesn’t start as much, more of a feeling in the back of his mind than anything else. An uncomfortable tingling sensation creeping through him, like an itch beneath his skin, little prickles of worry like ants tunneling through his veins.

He blinks, and his vision goes blurry.

The men in front of him transform into foggy statues and he blinks again, but instead of focusing it only gets worse. He swallows hard, only to find his throat has gone dry, the saliva refusing to go down.

Heat settles itself in his gut, rising into his chest as an aching sensation washes through him. Wooyoung lets out a low whine, one that under any other circumstances would humiliate him, but he can’t bring himself to worry about that right now. Not when his body feels as if it’s rejecting him.

“What did you do to me?” Wooyoung asks, and it comes out as a hoarse whisper. The man hums softly, reaching forward to hold Wooyoung’s chin. This time his grip is gentle, and Wooyoung wants to slap it away, but he doesn’t have the strength. In fact, if it weren’t for the man holding his head up, he’s certain his chin would have fallen down to his chest. Maybe it already had, Wooyoung doesn’t remember.

“This is the easy part, Jung Wooyoung,” the man says, and Wooyoung swears that that is the first time the man has said his name. Although the worry is replaced by agony as another ripple of pain rattles through him.

“Remember. You tell me what I want to know, I’ll make it stop,” the man says. “You’d be wise to accept that offer.”

Wooyoung blinks up at him, and he thinks thaf tears stain his eyes, although his vision is too foggy to notice a difference. “And if I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” the man says, giving a soft, condescending thumb-stroke along his cheek. “They always tend to comply.”

You cannot sleep.

The tent feels crammed, even though you’re well aware that there’s more than enough space. Yeji sleeps soundly, a few feet away and face turned from you as the peaceful sighs of deep slumber escape her lips. It is dark, only the faintest hint of moonlight seeping through the tent’s thin fabric, and yet it feels too bright.

You do not wish to sleep. There are things to be done. This is no time for rest.

They have Woo.

The men you’ve been fearing this entire journey. The ones that ambushed your father, that killed Mingi, that besieged your castle and robbed your life right out from under your feet. The men that have made you paranoid, always keeping one eye over your shoulder, creating wariness with each new city and step you have taken.

The men you have feared would kill you, they have taken him instead.

And somehow that is so much worse.

It’s not something you’d anticipated, always having assumed that if the black-clad men were to find you, you would be the one to face the consequences. The idea that travelling with the three men was putting them in the crossfire of the mysterious army hadn’t occurred to you. After all, it’s your wanted posters on every city street, not theirs.

How stupid you had been, and now Woo is gone. Captured by your family’s assassins, and only the god’s know what sort of danger he is in.

It’s your fault. It’s you they really want, he is just a pawn in their greater game. You’ve been outplayed, and Woo is the one forced to pay the price of your failure.

They could be torturing him for information. You know the sorts of things powerful men do to prisoners, having heard whispers about it in your halls, the dungeons located deep beneath the castle. Using a whip to lash the back until there's more blood left than flesh, spending hours drowning them within a bucket of water, pouring vials of liquid metal along the skin. Maybe one of them is a sadist, and Woo’s face is blistered and burnt beyond repair.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You roll over, eyes accustomed enough to the darkness that you can make out the ceiling of the tent above you. Although really, what you see is Woo, pleading for mercy as one of the black-clad men delivers the final blow. Woo goes silent, his eyes still open, and you know that it is over. He is gone.

Another person you care for, dead.

You cannot just sit here like this and let that happen. However, while you were prepared to head to the Concursos Mountain Pass the moment Seonghwa placed the message down in front of you, both he and San urged caution.

“This is clearly a trap,” San had said, wrapping a hand around your wrist to stop you from heading down the path towards the refuge’s exit. “They’re going to be prepared, which means we need to be. We need to come up with a plan before we do anything.”

“We have three days,” you snapped back, frustrated. “Yeji said the journey is at the very least a full day’s ride. We don’t have the time to sit here and twiddle our thumbs.”

“Then we have a day and a half to come up with something,” San replied, tone calm but also curt. He was not entertaining the possibility of going now, no matter how much anger you added to your glare. “Maybe we can form a group of some of the other refugees and leave together.”

“There’s only two horse’s between the entire refuge,” you cut back. “We cannot make it in time by foot. There’s no chance of us building our own army, if that’s what you're implying.”

“We’ll figure it out,” San said, still not budging. However, beneath his steady gaze, you could see the faintest hint of worry. Of doubt. Of knowing that there may have been no other option but to go alone, although he was not ready to admit it. Not ready to acknowledge the truth that weighed down on each of your shoulders.

The fact that it may come down to Woo’s life, or your own.

Thus, a second truth sat just as heavy. He would choose Woo. They both would.

It’s not until this moment, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, that you realize you would choose Woo too.

You will not have him die for you. You will not have the black-clad men take anything else from you. Not him. Not like this.

If they are to kill you, let it be your own doing. Not ambushed for the money they have placed on your head, or killed silently in an alley-way along the streets of Bebbanburg. You will not be your father, stabbed at his own celebration, unaware of what was coming. If you are to die, let you come to them with your sword in hand, fighting for a man who - even when you haven’t deserved it - fought for you.

Rising to your feet, you pull the blanket off of you, heading towards the tent flap. Stopping in place, you turn back, watching Yeji’s sleeping silhouette, chest rising and falling peacefully.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and it is not only to her, but to all of them. All of the Libaiyan’s uprooted from their homes, left to wander Burovia with no kingdom to call home. They had finally been reunited with their princess, only for you to leave them once more. It is selfish. It is what your father would consider an abandonment of responsibility.

Maybe you are abandoning your royal duty, or perhaps you are fulfilling your duty to another.

Either way, it must be done.

Slipping out from under the tent flap, you can hear San and Seonghwa talking within their own tent, though you cannot make out what they are saying. Good, they're busy. They will likely not notice you’re gone until morning.

Scanning the field, the man continues to sing by the fire, and it is the same song as before. Lute in hand, he serenades the men and women surrounding him, although the number has depleted under the blanket of the night.

As you approach the horse tied to a nearby tent-pole, you sing along quietly beneath your breath, to the words you have known your entire life.

“My love for whom I do come home,”

“I’ve been bathed in scars, both body and soul,”

“And while I’ve returned beneath darkened gloam,”

“Without you this place may never be whole.”

Although, while you may sing his words, unlike the man within the song you will not be so passive.

You will find Woo, and you will bring him home. Even if you do not come back with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next chapter.

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astayinwonderland · 4 months

Text

No… but imagine Seonghwa, who always shows he is very controlled, lose it because of you.

~Seonghwa’s POV~ internal monologue | smutty thoughts so +18 MDNI

There you are again. This is the third time you get lost in the crowd. Dancing, drinking, you know how to have fun. I wonder how much fun you would like to have with me. You think I’m not noticing the lingering stares and the batting of your eyelashes, or the way you say my name just to entice me. Well, darling, it is working, and you know it is working because I can’t keep my eyes off you.

I need to keep playing this game you have orchestrated for the two of us. Now you are just in front of me, bending a little bit too far over the bar to ask for a drink. You want me to notice you are wearing lace lingerie? Love, you would look even better without it anyway, and with me pleasing your needy hole with my tongue.

Yes… I saw you staring while I licked the overflowing liqueur from my glass earlier tonight. I did that for you. How much longer will you keep me waiting, angel? The fire inside me can’t wait to consume you, fuck you, praise you. Oh! There’s that look again, the one I can’t say no to. You want me to follow you through the dark corridors all the way to my room. Is this why you insisted the party should be at my place? Do you want everyone to hear you screaming my name?

You just close the door and pull my face to meet yours.

“Would you make me yours?” your sultry voice almost making me cum in my pants.

“I thought you would never ask.”

#a little drabble #seonghwa my man #seonghwa hard thoughts #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa smut #seonghwa hard hours #ateez smut drabbles #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #yunho smut #yeosang smut #choi san smut #mingi smut #wooyoung smut #choi jongho smut #astayinwonderland

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hahafixon · 4 months

Text

9:01 PM ~ *Park Seonghwa*

Summary: Seonghwa has an obsession. It's up to you to try and kick his habit. Much easier said than done...

Pairing: Park Seonghwa X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 442

Warning: Talks about a tour, Seonghwa acting childish

Masterlist

Taglist: @plutonieve @mxnsxngie @maeleelee. @kpop-will-kill-me

A/N: Totally self-indulgent as I wish we were having a white Christmas this year.

“Seonghwa, why are there ducks in the freezer?” You shouted to your boyfriend. Ever since he got that mold to make ducks out of snow, he’s been making them for hours on end and they seemed to be springing up anywhere and everywhere around your shared apartment.

Speak of the devil, Seonghwa sashayed into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face. “That’s the royal family for the Duck Kingdom. They needed a special safe place to live. The freezer was the perfect option.”

You turned to look at him like he had just grown two additional heads. “Do I need to give the mold to Hongjoong since you obviously can't handle your obsession with making snow ducks?”

Within an instant, Seonghwa's face fell and fear flooded his eyes. “No! Don’t ruin the Duck Kingdom! I don’t have an obsession with snow ducks! I can quit at any time I swear! Just don’t ruin my Duck Kingdom!”

“I’m not trying to ruin your snow duck fascination, babe.” You assured him. “I’m just saying you need to stop spending hours upon hours outside in the freezing cold, making ducks that will disappear when it starts to warm up. Besides, you have a tour coming up! You need to focus on that instead of this Duck Kingdom of yours!”

“I will, I will! It’s just, well, this is my last night of freedom before I start packing for tour!” He whined. As he clasped his hands together in front of him, he started to beg on his knees. “Please, please, please don’t take my duck mold away from me! PLEASE!”

You sighed, already regretting the answer you were going to give him. “Do you promise to take care of yourself on this tour and not get into any trouble?”

He nodded vigorously. “I swear on my life.”

“Fine, you can keep the mold.”

Instantly, he bounded up to you like a puppy and pulled you into a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love, love, love you, you have no idea! Now I’m going to make more ducks for the royal family to rule over.”

Before you knew it, he had his coat and boots and was rushing outside into the snow. You sighed before getting your phone and calling the only person who could keep Seonghwa sane. Well, sometimes. And he was not going to be happy with the news you were about to give him.

“Hey, Hongjoong? Yeah, I tried to get him to stop, I swear I did. But, you know how he is. Yeah. Good luck with him and the Duck Kingdom he’s building as we speak.”

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fantastic-bby · 10 months

Text

War With Heaven

Pairing: Reader x Seonghwa

Word count: 1.2k

Genre: Romance | Kinda forbidden love | Angel!Reader | Demon!Seonghwa

When Seonghwa would fight the heavens just for you, you realise that you would, too

Warnings: -

A/n: This hasn't been proofread, but it's also been in the works for a while and I really just wanna get this idea out there, so please excuse any mistakes.

Masterlist

“Dude, come on,” Wooyoung scoffs and smacks his arm with the back of his hand. “You can’t be hung up on them forever.”

The man ignores him, dark red eyes completely glued to you as he watches from the distance.

“Hwa,” he calls out more sternly.

“Shut up,” Seonghwa snaps without even turning to look at Wooyoung, too busy watching the way you laugh with your friends just as you exit the restaurant. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“What do you expect is gonna happen if you just keep staring at (Y/n)? The Heavens just magically let you date them?” Wooyoung snorts.

“I would fight the Heavens for them,” he mumbles.

“Oh, please,” he rolls his eyes in response. “I’m leaving. I promised Yeosang I’d meet him in five minutes and I’m not going to waste my time waiting for you to leave.”

Seonghwa ignores Wooyoung even when he lets out another audible scoff before the demon disappears, leaving him to his own company as he continues to watch you from a distance.

You were one of the few angels that actually enjoyed being on Earth, living life as though you were a human. When you had first met centuries before, Seonghwa found it only a little bit odd that you enjoyed it, but you explained that there was a certain kind of charm to the act of living. And since you’re both immortal, pretending to be a human just seemed to feel right for you.

It also gave you the chance to guard over your friends while being able to physically hangout with them.

There’s a moment where Seonghwa knows that Wooyoung’s right, but he really doesn’t give two shits about what anyone else says about you. Sure, you’re an angel and he’s a demon—the only barrier between you two—but he knows that you must have some love left over from when you were dating all those years ago.

Seonghwa thinks that the time you two spent together was the most peaceful time that he has ever had throughout his entire existence. You brought a sense of peace and tranquillity that he wouldn’t have been able to achieve living a life as a demon.

But as much as you both love each other, there’s nothing that the two of you seemed to be able to do when the Heavens had discovered your courting with Seonghwa.

For the sake of your pure and pristine wings, you begged him to not do anything.

However, as the years have passed, Seonghwa realised that he would, quite literally, fight the Heavens for you. As dramatic as it sounds, he feels like he’s dying without you, and Seonghwa doesn’t think he can last even another two years without being able to hold you.

Which leads him to his current situation:

Standing at the edge of a rooftop with his wings folded behind him, eyes still fixated on you as you bid your friends goodbye. Seonghwa tilts his head slightly before stepping off of the building entirely, his body falling down towards the ground only for his wings to catch his fall and gently set him down—

Right in front of you.

You stare at him almost knowingly, swallowing the lump in your throat that formed the moment you knew he was in the area.

“(Y/n),” Seonghwa greets.

“What are you doing here?” you ask softly.

“I’m here to ask for your hand once again.”

You purse your lips together, chest constricting, as you stare at him. Your entire body feels tense and you know it’s because you’ve been pondering the idea for quite a while already.

But giving up your wings would mean giving up everything.

“We’ve talked about this,” you state, walking past him.

Seonghwa all but disappears into a mist and reappears right in front of you once again.

“And I’ve asked you about this,” he nods. “I will ask for your hand forever, (Y/n). It’s cruel that the Heavens had made us perfect for each other while keeping us completely separated.”

“They do what they wish,” you sigh, but don’t make another attempt to walk away from him.

“You already knew from the beginning that I would do anything to keep you by my side and I’m going to keep on doing that until it happens. I would go to war with heaven for you, my love,” Seonghwa confesses softly as he takes a step closer to you, gauging your reaction. When you don’t seem to back away or show any sort of displeasure, he takes your hands in his and brings them to his lips, where he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“I-I’d have to leave everything, Hwa,” you say, voice a whisper, your eyes sticking to the ground.

“I would give you everything. I’ll make sure you stay in contact with your friends—I’ll make sure that you get to stay on Earth—I’ll do anything. I’m quite high up in the underworld and I can pull some strings,” Seonghwa insists.

You finally look him in the eyes, heart melting when you finally see the pure love and adoration that fills the scarlet of his eyes. Seonghwa looks at you as though he’s in pain he’s never felt before, but you know that he’s also filled with so much love that he could truly burst right here, right now.

“I’ll tear down Heaven if it means being with you. I’ll go against anything and everything if it means I get to spend eternity with you.”

Your eyes close in defeat. The only way that you could be with Seonghwa is if you were to give up your wings because no one can be turned into an angel. The Heavens are strict on their angels, and they’ve only ever thrown out angels—they’ve never let them in.

But you wonder, really, with the centuries that you’ve been sentient, you think that the eternity you’ll spend with Seonghwa could never actually compare to what you’ve already ‘lived’.

And you also wonder how long you’ve been thinking about it rather than actually wanting it.

Because you’re pretty certain that Seonghwa became everything to you the day that he had brought you to the middle of the forest where you spent the entire day with nature. In the eyes of an angel, it was such a simple sight, but to you; who’s always wanted to actually live—you don’t think that he could’ve brought you to a place more perfect than that.

But that’s also what you loved so much about him:

Seonghwa saw the beauty in life that you’ve felt you had only seen. Even though it was somewhat of a learning curve for the demon, he still went out of his way to search for places that he knew you would love purely out of how alive it was. And you both know that you’ll never get the chance of actually being alive, but living on Earth was about the closest you could get.

And as you bite the inside of your cheek, you realise that you don’t think you’ll miss the Heavens as much as you thought you would; your love seems to overpower everything else as Seonghwa stands in front of you, awaiting your answer. If anything, you’re as enraged as he is that they’re the reason you can’t be together. So, you’re certain that you wouldn’t be that upset being away for the rest of time.

So, you let out a long breath before you nod, cupping Seonghwa’s face in your hands. You smile widely and press a kiss to his lips, letting your touch linger before you pull away just enough to whisper.

“Let’s do it.”

#kwritersworldnet #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #park seonghwa #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa drabbles #park seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa fanfiction #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa x reader

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hwashotcheeto · 3 months

Text

𝑽𝑰𝑷 𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

Part Two: Premium Access

Park Seonghwa X afab!gn!reader

Summary: You finally get railed backstage by your boyfriend while he's still in his stage persona.

WC: 2.3k

CW: Smut, filthy ass smut, fluffy aftercare, no gendered names are used on the reader

Smut warnings: Kissing, dirty talk, mild degradation, backstage sex, spit play, oral sex, (idol receiving) face fucking. (reader receiving), hair pulling (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), unprotected PIV sex, breast play (reader receiving) orgasms for both

Hwa uses names on reader (Slut, baby, jagi, fucktoy, gorgeous)

AN: Ever since I saw the pictures and videos from Towards the Light D-1, I wanted SO BAD to write a one shot about it (I'm so weak for this man, oh my fucking God-)

@shinestarhwaa made a fic about this already (this one) so please go read it, it's amazing 💜

Since you'd started dating Seonghwa, you'd wanted him to rail you while he was still in his stage persona.

And honestly, who wouldn't?

He turned into a creature of intensity, a force of nature.

A demon.

And yet, in all your time together, you'd never gotten the chance. Usually, Seonghwa and his members were wiped out after a show, so most times, it wouldn't happen regardless.

Aside from that, you nor the members could convince the staff to let you or anyone else backstage. It was an understandable obstacle, but still annoying.

Until tonight.

Somehow, the stars aligned, and you were finally given VIP access to see your boyfriend and his members backstage.

You were backstage for the entire performance, and fuck, you were floored.

The boys had kept everything secret from you, you didn't know anything about their performance. So seeing Seonghwa's dance was an unbelievable surprise.

And a pleasant one at that. One that had you soaked through to your pants.

The whole concert, you were of course, proud of your boyfriend and the other members, seeing them clearly enjoy being performers, and do it really fucking well.

But you were also incredibly fucking horny for your boyfriend.

The concert felt like it was years instead of hours. Years until your boyfriend came backstage, panting heavily, drenched in sweat, with that goddamn top, whatever it’s called.

Seonghwa had never looked hotter.

He pulled out his ear monitors, looking around the backstage area, until he finally found you by the dressing rooms. His eyes zeroed in on you, and shivers ran all over your body as he stalked up to you like a predator cornering his prey.

Seonghwa took you in his arms and kissed you, hard, pushing you against a door. You squeaked in surprise as you reached up to grab onto his arms, but by then, the door was opening, and you two were stumbling inside.

As soon as the door was slammed and locked shut, you were pressed back against it, Seonghwa's hands all over your body. Your hands went up to run all over his chest and stomach. This damn shirt they put him in left little to the imagination.

(Just how I like it)

You ran your hands up to push the short jacket off his shoulders, which he quickly tossed somewhere in the room, and then he pinned your hands against the door above your head.

“Quit moving,” he commanded against your lips, pressing his body up against yours. A whimper leaves your lips before he kisses you again, forcing his tongue in and down your throat.

You squirmed in his grip as you pressed your thighs together. Seonghwa noticed it and groaned as he pulled back. “You don't wanna listen tonight?”

“Hwa, I'm soaked, I-” You tried to protest, but he forced your mouth open, pushing his thumb past your lips and holding your tongue down, spitting down your throat, and forcing your mouth closed after.

“That's not what I asked,” he said lowly, his lips hovering over yours. “Now swallow.”

You were almost embarrassed at how your heart fluttered as you swallowed.

Seonghwa pulled you away from the door and forced you onto your knees as he sat down on the couch. You watched as he wiggled his pants down to his thighs to free his painfully hard cock from the tight confines. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, and you moved closer between his spread legs.

“So eager to have my cock, baby?” Seonghwa asked, slowly pumping himself a few times. “Is that what you thought about while watching me? That you wanted me inside you?”

You nodded enthusiastically with a whimper, shifting around again, trying to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs. Seonghwa couldn't help but smirk as he took his other hand and pulled you close.

“Get to work then.”

You didn't need to be told twice.

You leaned forward and took the first half of him into your mouth, reaching up to pump the half that wasn't. You watched as Seonghwa rolled his eyes back and groaned at the contact, gripping onto your hair. He guided you up and down, having no patience (or time) to go slow today.

“You can take it,” he muttered. “Good sluts can take this. You wanna be good, don't you?”

You nodded and hummed around him, moving your head faster and sucking harder. You pressed your tongue against him and he shivered under you, biting his lip, stifling the groans that were growing more whiny.

What you didn't know is that Seonghwa was thinking about this during the entire performance.

Especially during his solo dance with the chair. Thinking about fucking up into your mouth, imagining how you’d gag when he did, seeing the spit and cum dribble down your chin, the tears on your cheeks.

You choked as he did just as Seonghwa imagined, and your hands flew up to cling onto his thighs. He looked down and smirked, seeing exactly what he wanted to see.

“That’s it, there we go,” he groaned, gripping onto your hair with both hands, shallowly fucking your throat. You kept your head still as he did, making yourself breathe through your nose instead.

Seonghwa slowly worked up to moving his hips faster, pushing deeper, fucking into your throat with reckless abandon. Tears freely fell from your eyes with every choke and gag, your whole neck covered in the mess that spilled down. Seonghwa kept his eyes trained on you, trying to keep quiet.

You were too, and not just because you were choking on his cock.

You were thoroughly soaked, all the way through, and it was beginning to grow painful. You slipped your hand inside your pants to rub your clit, moaning at the relief. But Seonghwa heard it.

He yanked you off his cock and sat up to look at you, and you froze with your hand still down your pants. Seonghwa couldn’t help but smirk.

“Getting yourself off while you choke on my cock? You’re filthy today, jagi.”

He pulled you off the floor and onto his lap, smashing his lips onto yours while his hands fumbled to get your pants and underwear off. You helped him get them off, and he flung them both somewhere in the room, joining his discarded jacket on the floor.

Before they even hit the floor. Seonghwa was running his fingers along your cunt, teasing your entrance. “Oh, look at you,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re fucking soaked. I really did that to you?” He couldn’t help but smirk, his tongue poking out from between his teeth,

“Yes, Hwa, you do. You always do.”

“No, this is more than usual.” He pushed two fingers inside and your body lit up in fire. “I bet you fuck yourself at home when you watch me perform if you’re this wet for me when I’m on stage. Do you, little slut?”

He pumped his fingers inside you with a brutal speed, which was easy with how much slick was pouring out of you. “Do you? Or did you not hear me because you’re already fucked out?”

“I do!” You cried out as he curled his fingers into your spot. “I do, Hwa, you’re so fucking hot!”

“I know I am, jagi.”

Seonghwa pulled his hand away and leaned back, holding his cock up for you. You didn’t need him to tell you what to do.

“Come o-” He cut off with a choke, throwing his head back as you slowly sunk down onto him. He didn’t pick his head back up until you were flush against his lap, making some of his hair fall over his half closed eyes.

“So eager,” he breathed, gripping onto your hips. “Go on then, fuck me like you want to so badly.”

And that’s exactly what you ended up doing.

You gripped onto his shoulders and fucked him like you never had before. The fire in your bones burned hotter than it ever had, dropping down on him hard enough that people outside undoubtedly could hear the sinful noises you made.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes back again, then smiled as he closed his eyes, melting back into the couch. “Fuck, that’s good. Keep it up, jagi.” His fingers dug into your hips, seemingly trying to pull you down even harder. You whimpered as you struggled to fuck him harder despite the burning feeling creeping into your thighs.

The effort you were putting in was already making you tremble. But hearing Seonghwa let out all those groans, watching him smile and bite his lip, his tongue peeking out every now and again, it motivated you to keep going.

It also made you clench down on him.

Seonghwa gasped when he felt it. “God, what are you thinking about, clenching like that?” He looked up at you and you whimpered again, all words leaving you. He knew what he did to you, and he loved it. “Come on, tell me.”

He pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight against him while he leaned back on the couch and spread his legs to fuck into you instead.

“Tell me what’s in your filthy little brain,” he whispered, his lips pressed up against your ear.

But you couldn’t form words with how he was pounding into you. Hell, you could hardly form a thought. All that came out was whiny babbles and cries as you clung onto him, your nails digging into his skin. You felt Seonghwa shiver as you did.

“Such a good baby,” he muttered. “So good taking my cock, all in your pretty hole, being my good little fucktoy.”

His words made you clench tighter and cry out louder, tears forming in your eyes. Seonghwa choked and whined. His resolve was crumbling, you were breaking him down.

Seonghwa suddenly flipped you and put you down on your back, spreading your legs wide, pushing them back up to your chest before he went back to fucking you. He was as deep as he possibly could be, hitting the sweet spot inside you every time he went back in.

“That’s it, jagi, take it all,” he muttered, starting to ramble, his words slurring together. He was panting now, his pupils blown out, all composure he had thrown out the damn window. His tongue rolled out of his mouth, and the sight alone nearly made you come right then.

Seonghwa slipped his hands under your shirt and ripped it off, stripping you down until you were bare, then dove down to your chest and ran his tongue over your skin. You cried out again as his mouth wrapped around one nipple and his hand came up to play with the other.

You clenched down tighter, nearly sobbing at this point. When you dared to look down, you squeaked. He looked up at you as he ravished your chest, his eyes half closed, his tongue sliding all over before his mouth closed around the nub again. All the whines and breathy moans he let out were only bringing you closer and closer.

Your climax was right there, so close, you just needed a little bit of a push. Seonghwa knew what it was, he was right there with you.

He reached down with his free hand and rubbed your clit. It was only seconds from there that you came all over him, screaming his name, sobbing, clinging onto his hair like you’d fall out of existence if you did.

Seonghwa came right after you did, pulling back from your chest to let out the prettiest, whiniest moans as he rolled his eyes back, pumping you full of his release, riding it out as he chanted your name.

You both sat panting for a while before Seonghwa finally pulled out of you. He reached out and held your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all,” you mumbled, your brain still mush. Seonghwa smiled, sharing the same sentiment. His brain was fried after today.

He helped you sit up, and you both cleaned up as best you could before you got redressed.

After you did, Seonghwa pulled you into his arms and hugged you tight. You laid your head on his chest, and his heart was still pounding loudly against his ribs. You smiled as you nuzzled into his skin, squeezing him tight.

“I wish we could do that more often,” you said softly. Seonghwa laughed and shook his head.

“This took everything out of me, I feel like I’m gonna pass out right here.”

“Then let me take care of it next time.” You looked up at him, and he looked down at you, his eyes still doubtful. “I don’t mind. I like it when you’re the bottom anyway.” His cheeks turned red as he looked away, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I mean, maybe, I don’t-”

Hongjoong threw the door open at that point, glaring at both of you. Your heart stopped dead in your chest as you clung onto Seonghwa.

“Seriously?! This is why we can’t have people backstage!” Hongjoong threw up his hands and tilted his head back, his tone exasperated. “Seonghwa, get to your dressing room, we’ve been waiting for you!”

“Okay okay, fine, breathe, Hongjoong.” Seonghwa pulled away from you, but leaned back to hold your cheek and press a sweet kiss to your lips. It was over far too soon, but he smiled at you as he pulled away. “I’ll see you later, gorgeous.”

As much as you hated watching him walk away with Hongjoong, you knew you’d be back in his arms tonight. And you could have your sexy, talented, adorable, sweet demon boyfriend all to yourself.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic #seonghwa ff #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader

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milfgyuu · 1 year

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Pillow Princess [M] Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader Tags: 1.2k, Married!AU, Romance, Smut 18+ Prompt: “You look ridiculous. I love it” -> @yoongimingyu Summary: You won the Halloween cocktail contest on girls’ night and then your super hot husband came to pick you up. So, really, you won at life.

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content 18+, unprotected sex, consensual drunk sex, oral (f), creampie appreciation, hwa being madly in love and like a really hot husband so it’s bad for my health.

He’d been waiting for the call.

The one where you giggle into the receiver, saying hello one-too-many times as he patiently asks if you’re ready for him to pick you up. You’ll flirt with him and smile to yourself at the sound of his smooth, deep voice. When he arrives at your girlfriend’s house, you’ll throw your arms around him and shower him in affection. You’ll sleepily reach for his hand in the car on the way home and play with his wedding ring - the twin to your own.

Girls’ nights are just are fun for him as they are for you and tonight’s theme celebrating Halloween might just be his favorite.

He’d seen what you were wearing of course - he’d dropped you off himself.

The fuzzy brown onesie with the cute bear ears was little more than pajamas and yet it still looked good on you. Zipper tugged low enough to expose a tasteful amount of cleavage in which he’d eyed with a little smirk each time you sent him photos throughout the night. Your eyes were glassy and those full lips parted when you smiled at him each time he looked over at you - remnants of the haunted cocktail competition you’d participated in.

You were no doubt drunk and eager for him to shuffle you into bed.

Seonghwa chuckles when he hears you whining, flat on your back with your arms limping hanging above you as he deposits his keys and wallet on the dresser a few feet away. “Seongggghwaaaa,” you groan, “...need your help.”

He finally comes close enough to look down at you and smiles. “Darling, I do believe you’ve drank your weight in liquor tonight,” he leans over you, fists bracing his weight on either side of your head, those little round ears catching his eye. “You look ridiculous,” he snickers, “I love it.”

Your hands clasp around the back of his neck but you lack the physical ability to pull him to you which in turn elicits another whine and he shakes his head, shrugging your hands away but only so that he can unzip your outfit and carefully extract you from it to put you to bed. It’s an effort to assist him in pulling your limbs out but he’s patient as always, making sure not to bend something painfully in the process.

He sighs at the pretty lingerie you wear beneath and questions whether you wore nothing else because you would get too warm in the fuzzy suit or if it’s because you knew he’d be the one undressing you at the end of the night.

Looking down at you with your eyes shut and a lazy smile upon your lips, he’s still not sure of the answer.

Very carefully, he unclasps your bra and slips the straps over your shoulders and down your arms. The chill in the room causes you to shiver, tugging at the sheets. You wish for your husband to hurry up and join you but Seonghwa is methodical in everything he does, collecting your things and disappearing to put them where they belong.

Thankfully, when he rejoins you, he’s stripped himself down for bed as well. He slips beneath the covers next to you and you close your eyes, waiting for his warmth to sink into you but the feeling of his supple lips and insistent hands never come. It takes tremendous effort to crack one eye open and catch him casually watching you with a feline smirk.

“You know, you’re quite the pillow princess when you’re drunk,” he chuckles, reaching out to run one hand over your body.

You squirm and twist away from his long fingers, complaining how cold they are against your breasts but he quickly makes amends by rolling over your body, one knee sliding between your legs and pushing up against your aching cunt.

“I like you like this,” he breathes against your lips, tongue swiping out to tease your lower lip. “Soft…needy…” he grinds his hips into you, hard cock digging into your stomach and your body melts beneath him, “My perfect, pliant, wife.”

His hot, wicked mouth feels like euphoria between your thighs but it only lasts for a few minutes, just enough to make sure you’re ready for him though you hadn’t really needed his help. You were floating and dizzy and so, so wet. It may have been a far cry from how long he usually spent working you over but it felt like hours with the way he drags it out, relishing the loud, slick sounds that hit his ears when he finally pushes his weeping cock into you.

He doesn’t bother pinning you down or folding your legs to better angle your hips. He doesn’t need to.

To have you splayed out in the bed, completely naked, and spread for him is a vision that is entirely unmatched.

No, he can’t reach as deeply as he wishes but he doesn’t need that either. He has you. Whining and whimpering, crying his name with your lips parted and eyes closed. Breasts bouncing with your arms spread wide, fingers pulling at the crisp white bed sheets on either side of you. Your thighs, soft and plush, brace his hips and shake violently beneath his touch as if you’re using every ounce of strength to keep your knees bent and feet planted on the bed.

He doesn’t dare tease you for being tired, not when he knows you’ll push yourself too far to prove a point.

Seonghwa leans into you, your breath catching at the new depth of his stroke. His hands move from the outside of your thighs to brace the spot right above the crook of your knee on each side, pushing down to leverage himself even deeper. He groans aloud at the subtle change in position. It allows him to support your legs but it also puts him at risk of losing himself in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in back in every time he pulls out.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to hold out for long because you’ve abandoned the sheets to claw at his wrists, begging him to take you harder, faster, deeper than humanly possible but he gives it all over to you until you’re falling apart, shuddering and crying out against the onslaught of your orgasm. Seonghwa braves the last few thrusts until he’s spent, emptying himself with his teeth bared and brows furrowed.

He rocks into you carefully to keep from making too much of mess, knowing it’ll be all for naught when he eventually pulls out but the other part of him simply loves keeping you full - even going so far as to catch the cum that seeps out on those long beautiful fingers of his and push it all right back into you, coaxing another orgasm along while he’s at it.

You’re sated and sleeping by the time he has you dressed and tucked back into the sheets. Seonghwa kisses your hair, your cheeks, your nose, and your lips but you don’t stir. He exhales a little puff of amusement and wraps his arm around you, pulling you close to his chest.

You really love girls’ night…and so does he.

Not quite as much as he loves you though.

Halloween 2022 | Main M.List

→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Milfgyuu, 2019. ©️

#Halloween drabbles 2022 #seonghwa fanfic #ateez fanfic #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #seonghwa fanfiction #lana writes

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nateezfics · 5 months

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LET IT SNOW!

PAIRING — ateez x reader

GENRE — fluff, romance, established relationship, holidays, boyfriend!ateez, gn!reader

WARNINGS — no warnings apply;; just a lot of sappy sweetness <3

WORD COUNT — 2.6k

SUMMARY — fluffy snow, holiday movies, hot chocolate, and freshly baked gingerbread cookies. it’s the most wonderful time of the year!

HONGJOONG — “oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful.”

“it’s still snowing.” your voice was soft, barely audible over the crackling fire. snow fell gently outside the window, and while your head rested on a warm chest, you watched it fondly. you weren’t sure if you were heard until there was a small chuckle above you.

“the forecast called for lots of wintery weather,” hongjoong responded, shifting a bit so he could watch the snow with you. you lifted your head to allow him room to move, and once he was comfortable again, you nuzzled your face into his chest. his sweater was soft, and you inhaled his scent that was tangled in the fabric. “i don’t think the snow will be letting up any time soon.”

you hummed. you absentmindedly toyed with the edge of his sweater, liking the way it felt. you were comfortable just like this — laying on his chest, the two of you on the couch under a heap of blankets, and warm from the heat of the fire. free days like today were rare for hongjoong, and you were simply glad to be in his presence. you didn’t need to go out to do anything; watching the cold snow from the warmth of each other’s arms was enough. after some time of silence, you spoke up, “hey, hongjoong?”

“hm?” he sounded sleepy. you gazed up at him to find his eyes closed.

“i love you. and i’m glad we got to spend time together today.” your voice, while quiet, was full of conviction. you saw his lips curl into that smile you adored so much, and affection swirled in your chest.

hongjoong opened his eyes and bent his head to place a soft kiss against your hair. his arms grew tighter around you. “i love you, too,” he paused for a moment, feeling emotion for you surge, “and i wouldn’t trade these moments with you for anything.”

SEONGHWA — “and since we’ve no place to go, let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!”

“seonghwa! we can’t have a snowman without a nose!”

“i don’t think it matters,” seonghwa replied. he noticed you stop what you were doing, gloved hands frozen over the round rump of the man-shaped snow pile. he winced, immediately regretting his choice of words.

the debate of whether or not a snowman needed a nose was put to rest the moment you shot your boyfriend a glare. of course a snowman had to have a nose! duh! “yes, it does! now help me find something we can use.”

seonghwa was eager to aid you in your search for a nose, feeling a little bad about his earlier comment. the search was short lived since mostly everything was buried under inches of snow. “don’t snowmen usually have, i don’t know, carrots for noses?”

“yeah, but i didn’t think to pick up any carrots at the grocery store,” you said with a pout. your shoulders slumped in defeat. “there’s got to be sticks or something we could use…”

“it’s all under the snow,” seonghwa pointed out. at your pouty face, he smiled. he put a hand on your shoulder. “you know, our snowman may not have a nose, but —” he took the knitted hat off his own head and placed it on the snowman’s, “—he does have a cute hat!”

you giggled, appreciating your boyfriends attempt to make you feel better. it worked, and you instantly felt much more cheery. you looked over your snowman and smiled. “he looks good in that hat, but i think it looks better on you.”

seonghwa laughed as he leaned in to kiss your cold cheek. “of course it does, but i think i’ll let him keep it.”

you nuzzled yourself into his side in search for warmth. despite the layers of sweaters and jackets, the winter air still managed to get to you. “let’s go inside. all this snowman building has me freezing!”

seonghwa lead you inside, the two of you remaining close together. “sounds like we need some hot chocolate, yeah?”

YUNHO — “man it doesn’t show signs of stopping, and i brought me some corn for popping.”

“all these holiday movies are the same,” yunho critiqued just as the movie ended. he stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth while he watched the credits roll.

you huffed. “so what? i still like them. they’re nice and make you feel good! plus they always help to get you in that christmas spirit!”

yunho smiled at you fondly just as you finished speaking. “i know you like them,” he said, reaching over to grasp your hand in his. his larger hand overwhelmed yours, something that never failed to make the both of you laugh. “that’s why i sit here and watch them with you, even if they bore me to tears.”

you bumped his shoulder with yours. “i appreciate that.”

“so, are we watching another one?” yunho knew the answer already. another movie was starting just moments later. he reclined into the couch cushion, patting his chest in invitation.

you grinned and cuddled into his chest. when he sat the bowl of popcorn on his lap, you took the opportunity to grab you some. you watched the movie in comfortable silence, enjoying the time spent together. about halfway through, you had an idea. “hey, after this, do you wanna bake some cookies?”

yunho kissed the top of your head. cookies sounded very good, and his mouth was already watering at the thought of the warm and sweet treats. “as long as i’m with you, i’m up for anything.”

YEOSANG — “the lights are turned way down low. let it snow! let it snow!”

you took a step back to appreciate your work. you felt proud, eyes twinkling as you took in the sight of the glimmering tree. “it’s beautiful!”

yeosang, who had helped you decorate the tree, nodded in agreement beside you. the tree was alive with ornaments, shiny tinsel, and flickering lights. a star shined brightly at the top. “it is. you did a good job, babe.”

you blushed at the compliment. “not just me, you helped, too!” you reached for him and circled your arms around him, pulling him in close. your heart skipped when he returned the embrace, his scent filling your senses.

“the tree looks the same every year,” yeosang pointed out, and you didn’t know where he was going with that until he continued, “but every year i’m astonished at how pretty it looks.”

you giggled as you looked up at him. “i think it looks prettier after decorating it with your favorite person.”

“i think so, too,” he agreed. he gazed down at you, and affection buzzed between you. his face was very close to yours, leaving him only inches to cross if he wanted to. he looked so handsome amidst the colorful lights. you could see the lights from the tree playing in his dark eyes. “i never was into the holidays, at least not until i met you. you make me enjoy this time of year.”

you were touched. yeosang wasn’t a man of many words, but the words he did say were always so heartfelt and genuine. he never failed to remind you of just how much you meant to him. “i love you.”

yeosang finally closed the space between you, lips meeting yours in a slow kiss. “i love you, too.”

SAN — “when we finally kiss goodnight, how i’ll hate going out in the storm.”

you always loved christmas parties with friends. it made this time of year even more fun. wooyoung liked throwing a few of them at his place every year, and they were never short of a good time. especially once the eggnog got spiked (no one could figure out who kept putting alcohol in it, but everyone suspected mingi).

you sat on a couch in a less rowdy area. wooyoung’s apartment wasn’t the most spacious, and with so many people there wasn’t many places to go. but this little space in the living room was at least less crazy than the other side of the room, where wooyoung and yunho were taking shots while an exasperated hongjoong watched. you took a sip of your hot chocolate, enjoying the warm, chocolatey goodness.

“i wonder if alcohol would taste good in hot chocolate,” came san’s voice. he sat next to you with his own cup of hot chocolate.

you offered a smile towards your boyfriend. new boyfriend. the two of you had only started dating last month, but you’d been friends way before that. you were still acclimating to this new dynamic with san; going from friends to lovers was a major transition, but you both were happy to explore this relationship together. “nah, wouldn’t want to ruin a good thing. hot chocolate is superior on its own.”

san laughed and nodded in agreement. “yeah, maybe you’re right. besides, i think the spiked eggnog is a good example of what happens when alcohol gets in the mix.” you both eyed the commotion across the room with amusement.

“yeah,” you said into your cup. you hummed in enjoyment.

“hey, y/n?”

you met san’s eyes. heat rose to your cheeks when you noticed how close he was. you waited for him to say something, but no words ever left his mouth. instead, his lips met yours before you knew it. they were soft and tasted like chocolate, and you sought them out again just as he made to pull away.

san smiled into the kiss. “you had a hot chocolate mustache.”

you attempted to respond, but Wooyoung interrupted you before you responded.

“you guys realize we can see you, right?”

MINGI — “but if you’ll really hold me tight, all the way home i’ll be warm.”

mingi shivered. “must we really find a tree out here? it’s freezing!”

“oh, come on! being out in the snow, looking for that one perfect tree, it’s all part of the fun!” you made sure to not let him see you shiver.

mingi rolled his eyes. “i’d rather be at home, nice and warm. now that’s fun.”

you ignored him and kept on walking with him in tow. you went all over the tree farm in search for the best looking tree. it took a while, but eventually you found it, and you jumped for joy as you gazed at the full, lush tree. “mingi, this is the one!”

mingi eyed the tree. “it looks the same as the others?” you stilled, shooting him a cold look. he watched your smile fade, and guilt coiled in his chest.

“do you not enjoy doing this stuff with me?” you asked and he felt even worse. mingi sighed.

“i do,” he revealed as he stepped closer to you. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel like i don’t enjoy doing this with you. truth is, i enjoy it, i’m just a wimp when it comes to the cold.”

you smiled, elated over his words. “i know you hate the cold, and you still came with me despite that.”

“so apology accepted?”

“yeah, apology accepted.”

mingi grinned. “good, now come over here and hug me before i freeze!”

you laughed and wrapped your arms around him. you both reveled in the heat your bodies brought. mingi held you tight while you buried your face in his neck. “better?”

he nodded. “better.”

WOOYOUNG — “and the fire is slowly dying. and, my dear, we’re still goodbying.”

“that looks more like a gingerbread blob than a gingerbread man.” you rolled your eyes at wooyoung’s comment.

“so what he doesn’t like like a normal gingerbread man. i think he’s perfect just the way he is!” you gazed down at your gingerbread blo — gingerbread man. “and it doesn’t matter what they look like as long as they taste good.”

wooyoung laughed as he began piping icing onto his much more aesthetically pleasing and anatomically correct gingerbread cookies. “that’s what everyone who can’t bake says!”

you scoffed and swatted at his arm. you were glad when you caused him to mess up one of his cookies. “you are in my kitchen and you insult me? the audacity! i think you should leave!” you bit back a laugh when he made a face at you.

“it’s practically a blizzard outside. i’m not going anywhere in that weather. you’re stuck with me now!” wooyoung was so amused.

“fine, but you’re sleeping on the couch.” you started to decorate your batch of oddly shaped cookies. and in your opinion? they looked way better than wooyoung’s!

“oh really? then what must i do to get back into your good graces so i can be with you in the warm bed tonight?” wooyoung stopped what he was doing to look at you. you looked cute while you concentrated, focus on your cookies. really, your cookies looked a million times worse than his, but he couldn’t help but admire the way you looked at your batch so fondly.

you held up a finished cookie. it had a rounded shape with four nubs that only barely resembled hands and feet, and the icing work was slightly messy. wooyoung almost laughed, but refrained before he could let it slip. “you’ve got to admit my cookies are better!”

wooyoung sighed. “guess i’m sleeping on the couch then.” when you gave him a shocked look, he allowed himself to laugh. when you reached out to swat at him again, he caught your hand and pulled you close. “just kidding. your cookies are better than mine.”

you rolled your eyes, sitting the gingerbread blob on the counter. “it’s a good thing i love you, you know that?”

wooyoung pecked your lips. “i know.”

JONGHO — “but as long as you’d love me so, let it snow! let it snow! and snow!”

one thing was for sure: jongho was a ruthless opponent in a snowball fight.

he was relentless, throwing snowball after snowball at you. there wasn’t anywhere for you to go. your only opportunities to retaliate were the small spaces of time between his blows. you didn’t really land many hits on him, and after every missed snowball he’d laugh hysterically. you were about to admit defeat until you hatched an idea.

you waited until he sent a particularly hard snowball your way, and when it made contact with your side, you let out a loud yelp while falling to the snowy ground. you stayed down, feigning pain with your hands pressing into your side. jongho stood some distance away, unsure of what had happened. at first he was confused, but when you didn’t get back up, he rushed to your side.

“babe! are you okay?” he pulled you into his arms, eyes scanning over your body to find where you were injured. you had him right where you wanted him.

you gripped some snow into your gloved hand and smooshed it into his face. you were never going to forget the look on his face. you smiled victoriously. “gotcha!”

jongho grinned. “not fair!” his fingers poked into your sides, tickling you relentlessly.

you wiggled in his hold, not even caring about the cold snow under you. your laughter filled the winter air, accompanied by the sound of jongho’s own amusement. “okay, okay! i’m sorry! i surrender!”

“oh no! it’s too late for that!”

the tickling didn’t cease until many moments later. your sides hurt from his fingers and your laughter. you rested in his arms with your head on his shoulder. neither of you made a move to break apart, even though the snow was beginning to seep into your clothes. “i can’t believe you fell for it.”

jongho chuckled. “i can’t believe you cheated.”

“at least i managed to get one hit. i’m proud of myself.” you looked up at his cheek, still covered in snow. you kissed it as your way of apologizing. “i’ll play fair from now on, okay?”

“and i’ll take it easier on you from now on. maybe.”

AUTHOR’S NOTES — now that it’s december, i’m feeling the holiday spirit! i know fluff is so rare for me, but i just felt like posting something soft would be a good way to start off the holiday season 🎄

TAG LIST — @abiaswreck @jungkookieprincess @lilie-dctl @mjyungi @mylovelymito @marievllr-abg @nebulousbookshelf @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @thesafecafe

NETWORKS — @kflixnet @wonderlandnet

ALL FICS ARE THE ORIGINAL IDEAS AND WRITTEN WORKS OF NATEEZFICS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. REPOSTING WITHOUT CONSENT FROM THE AUTHOR NATEEZFICS IS PROHIBITED!

#wonderlandnet #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #hongjoong fanfiction #seonghwa fanfiction #yunho fanfiction #yeosang fanfiction #san fanfiction #mingi fanfiction #wooyoung fanfiction #jongho fanfiction

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daddyfordaeddy · 26 days

Text

Pairing: mafia! Seongjoong x f! yn

Word Count: 3517

Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence, minor injuries, slight possessive/yandere joong (not super noticeable), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, mafia au, exes to lovers, M for mature audiences

Summary: After leaving the mafia scene for five years, you've had to go back and beg for help from the boss of your former family...and your ex.

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), some praise, degredation, spitroasting, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, creampie, fingering, felching (again), squirting, one spank, dom/sub (seongjoong dom, yn sub), undernegotiated kinks (its been a while since they fucked so things may have changed but they don't discuss. don't do this)

Written for tipsy drabbles! took me like 3 days to write the smut itself lmao

“So. You’ve found your way back to me, begging for me.” You keep your eyes lowered, not afraid but too ashamed to look Hongjoong in the eyes. You haven’t seen the head of the MATZ gang in a long time. Not since the last boss was alive and he was just a capo in his own right. Not since you had left him standing in the hall of his mansion, citing immaturity when it was just your fears of commitment to a mafia member. You know you broke his heart, but he stitched it back up quickly, yelling after you that if you ever came back he wouldn’t help you.

And yet, how the tables have turned.

“I had…I had nowhere else to go. Turn me away if you wish, but hear me out first. Please, Hongjoong.” You keep your gaze focused on your ratty sneakers, a far cry from the Louboutins you used to wear.

“Look at me first.” You freeze. From his tone of voice, you know he knows why you’re here. “I won’t repeat myself, YN.”

Slowly, you bring your head up, wincing at the sharp pain in your throbbing head from the sudden movement. You’re sure you look a mess, with the black eye and split lip. You keep your line of sight trained on the window next to Hongjoong instead of his face, but you can’t miss the way his eyes darken at the sight of you broken in front of him.

“What. Happened.”

His voice is cold and you flinch, hands wringing behind your back as you refuse to break down in front of your first lover (and if you stop lying to yourself, he still is in your heart). “...It was Yang Beomhun. I left you but he tracked me down and thought he could use me as leverage against you. It didn’t work, but at that point, he decided he might as well keep me around for himself and the pretence he had put up dropped. I…don’t know what else to do.”

It was a miracle you were even let back into his mansion. You thought you would have to live a life of suffering with Beomhun as your tormentor, but one of the family had somehow recognised you and let you in, citing it to be some sick joke.

And maybe it was. Who leaves the mafia out of fear for their future, only to end up being run ragged by the justice system? It’s ironic, ending right back up where you left, but once again, you have nothing left to lose.

“Why don’t you just leave him? You clearly are able to.”

You choose to ignore the jibe. “I couldn't. I’ve tried. It was a miracle I made it here, and that was with the help of someone who likely has gotten into deeper trouble.” You can feel your body shaking with the effort to keep your cool. “I don’t know what to tell you. Give me a new life, or just fucking kill me, Hongjoong. I don’t want to be caught in the middle again. I left to avoid the danger but no matter what I do, all I get is the same thing.”

Silence settles over the both of you. It’s only a moment later you realise you finally admitted the real reason you left. Your head shifts lower and you squeeze your eyes shut, both from embarrassment and trying to keep yourself on your feet.

After a long breath, you feel slender fingers on your chin that tip your face up. Blearily, you blink your eyes open to see Hongjoong staring down at you, eyes hiding any emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is soft, softer than you’ve heard in a long time. “I would’ve protected you, given you the safest life I could.”

“I…back then I didn’t want that, Joong. I just wanted a normal life. Not a safe one.” Your eyes are fighting to stay open.

“And now? What do you want?” You open your mouth to speak, but instead, your legs give out and Hongjoong drops to keep you from cracking your head on the wooden floor. “YN, wait–”

When you reawaken, you’re in an intricate bedroom you remember as the one you stayed in when you and Hongjoong were still dating. It’s changed quite a bit, his bookshelves cleared and the desk is gone, but otherwise, the drapes remain the same, and the carpet and plants as well. Your body aches but your mind is refreshed, the exhaustion from yesterday gone.

You can feel a heavy weight on the left side of the bed and your heart softens at the sight of Hongjoong sitting beside you, head in his arms as he rests his torso on the bed. As much as you hate to admit it, you missed him every moment you were gone. But you hurt him irrevocably and you know there’s not much you can do to win him back.

Your hand reaches up involuntarily, just about to brush through his platinum blond locks when his head snaps up. Your hand jerks back although his eyes are still closed. “You’re up,” he hums, eyes slowly blinking open. “The medic said you were just exhausted, but I’m glad to see you’re up.”

You stare at him, brows furrowed. “Why are you glad? I hurt you. I don’t deserve your worry.”

Hongjoong’s brow raises. “I don’t think you get to decide who I get to worry about. Yes, you hurt me. But we were young and dumb. We were hardly adults, thrust into a dangerous situation. And I would be lying to say I didn’t miss you, rosebud.”

Your face flushes at the nickname you hadn’t heard in years and Hongjoong smiles at the sight of it. He shifts over, leaning in to brush his nose against yours when the door slams open. “Boss, Seonghwa’s back.”

Your brows furrow. “Seonghwa?” The name escapes your lips before you can catch it and Hongjoong’s eyes narrow to level a sharp gaze at you.

“You met him?” His question is light but there’s danger behind it.

“Yes—He’s the one that helped me escape Beomhun. He was new on the task force, but he saw how Beomhun treated me and was the only one who cared to help me.” You speak quickly, trying to ease the tension lurking in Hongjoong’s eyes. “I swear on my life, Joong. He’s done nothing wrong except help me.”

Hongjoong stares at you for a long moment before he stands quickly, smoothing down his suit. “YN, come. Let’s see this Seonghwa for ourselves.”

Before you can even say anything, he grabs your wrist, pulling you along. You don’t know how to react, much less if you should react, and the entire way down to the basement is silent. You come to a stop behind a glass window, two-way if you remember correctly, and you stare at the slender figure sitting at the table, with sharp eyes and a split lip. “That’s him,” you breathe out.

Hongjoong hums. “Aww, he came all this way to see if you were alive? How sweet. Why don’t you go and show him how much you appreciate him? After all the work I put him to to keep you safe?” His hand pushes at your side a little and you snap your head towards him.

“Joong–” you gasp in shock and confusion.

Hongjoong turned to stare you down. “What? You think I would actually just let you go like that, five years ago? You’re mine, and you’d do well to remember that.” He chuckles low in his throat, his lips pulling into a shark’s smile. “Seonghwa here is my underboss. I trust him the most when it comes to my personal affairs, and I think he deserves a reward for the work he’s done. Come on, baby, why don’t you show him how good you can be?”

Before you can say anything else, he swings the door open and pulls you through. “Hwa, say ‘hi’ to my little rosebud. She’s here to give you a little treat for protecting her.”

He pushes you forward again and you stumble on your feet until large, warm hands land on your waist as you stop between Seonghwa’s open thighs. “Aren’t you just precious, huh,” he groans, pressing his thumbs into your hip bones. “Little missy is just too worried about me, is that right, baby?”

You cast a glance back at Hongjoong, where he’s taken a seat from across the room and is palming at the growing bulge in his pants. Without even thinking about it, your thighs squeeze together and you flush. “Joong–” Back when you were still with him, the two of you would find newcomers to fuck, some kind of sick power play Joong got off on. It’s somewhat comforting to see not much has changed in that regard…and it makes heat bloom in your core.

Seonghwa’s hand gripping your chin directs your gaze to his dark eyes. “Come on, miss, I went to all that work keeping you safe, don’t you want to show your appreciation?” He arches a perfect brow and you swear the expression on his face only serves to make your face even hotter.

“Show him how good you can be, YN,” Hongjoong commands from behind you, his voice heavy. And, well, who are you to disobey him? Immediately, you drop to your knees, your habits from years back still ingrained into your brain.

Seonghwa chuckles, his fingers combing through your hair slowly as he palms his cock straining against his leather pants. “Come on, princess. Show me how good those pretty lips are.”

You don’t need much more prompting than that, quickly reaching forward to undo his belt and slide his zipper down. With a groan, Seonghwa lifts his hips enough for you to shove his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. The tip of it is an angry red, dripping pre-come and your eyes zero in on it.

Seonghwa places his hand on the top of your head, and you don’t need much more prompting before dipping down and pressing a kiss to the tip. You can hear him sigh and it's enough to make you sink down to envelop the head of it in your mouth, letting spit pool around it. Any other day you’d be in the mood to tease, but with Hongjoong watching all you want is to be good.

“Shit, her mouth is so good,” Seonghwa groans, his thighs straining as his hands tighten in your hair. “So perfectly willing to be used.”

You feel another spike of heat in your core as you clench around nothing at his words. The way he doesn’t even direct it at you, only at Hongjoong turns you on more than you’d like to admit it would. “You can be rougher with her, she likes it,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through the fog slowly encapsulating your mind.

Without hesitation, Seonghwa pushes your head down even further and you gag, eyes rolling back at the rough treatment. “Holy shit, she’s into it.” There’s absolute glee in Seonghwa’s voice, and his hips give an experimental thrust. You moan around his thick length, eyes squeezing shut as your spit dribbles down his length. Any shame you feel dissolves into arousal and you can’t help but wriggle your hips, trying to get any sort of friction.

“Look at you, so needy for anything.” Hongjoong’s voice is closer than you remember, and you flinch when you feel his cool hands on your shoulders. They trail down, patting your ass before reaching to cup you through your pants. “Come on, hands and knees for me, okay?”

It takes you a moment to respond, but when Hongjoong paps you on your cunt again, you scramble to present your ass to him while still keeping Seonghwa in your mouth. You can hear both of them chuckle at your eagerness. “She’s such a perfect slut, Joong,” the bite in Seonghwa’s voice makes you whine low in your throat. “So happy to just take cock and sit still, all pretty for us.”

Hongjoong hums as he pulls down your pants and underwear in one swift moment, pressing his fingers against your sopping pussy. “She’s so wet, truly the perfect whore for us,” he sighs, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. His movements are fast, precise, and more slick gushes out of you as you keep moaning around Seonghwa’s cock.

Before you can grind against his hand, his fingers disappear just as fast as they entered you and you whine, feeling much too empty. “Eager or not, bitches should learn patience,” Hongjoong sneers and a smack resounds in the room. You register the stinging pain on your ass a second later and you moan, the sound of it muffled.

Your eyes tear up from the pain and Seonghwa coos, his long fingers brushing away the tears. You lean into the comfort subconsciously but as you do so, you can feel the blunt head of Hongjoong’s cock rubbing against your folds and the slick sounds make your brain fuzzy. The tip of it repeatedly catches on your clit and each time it sends a shock to your core.

Before you can whine any more, Hongjoong lines his cock up to your cole and pushes in without any warning. Your eyes snap open as your body is pushed forward and Seonghwa’s cock is driven deeper into your mouth. “Shit–” Seonghwa groans, his other hand coming down to grip your hair and keep your head in place.

Hongjoong giggles from behind you before drawing back and slamming back in again. The force of his thrust spears him so perfectly inside you, the girth of his cock stretching you open so well. He didn’t prep you well enough, but the sting makes you even wetter. It’s been years, and he still knows exactly what you like and it makes both your heart and your cunt throb. Seonghwa’s cock is longer, but the stretch of Hongjoong is just what you like and you clench around him.

“God, after all this time, you still are so fucking tight. Maybe I didn’t fuck you well enough before,” Hongjoong leans down to whisper in your ear, his weight pushing you impossibly further onto Seonghwa’s dick. “Maybe I’ll let Seonghwa fuck you too until your pussy is nice and sloppy for me to take any time I want. You may be mine, but Seonghwa is too and it would be cruel of me to not let my two playthings have their own fun.”

You’re a little ashamed to admit the idea of that makes you moan, and Hongjoong presses a kiss to your shoulder before biting the flesh, his hips starting to jackhammer into you, setting an unforgiving pace.

Your body goes lip, Hongjoong’s arms around your waist and Seonghwa’s hands in your hair the only thing keeping you up. You really do feel like a doll used only for their enjoyment but something about it is perfect and you keep your mouth slack as your eyes roll back in your head. Your cunt is throbbing, pulsing around Hongjoong as he hits the spongy spot inside of you with surprising accuracy. Seonghwa’s started thrusting into your mouth as well, your jaw aching but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You can hear them speaking to each other above you but you’re too far gone to make sense of anything they’re saying, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two men on either side pound into you. But before you can say or do anything, Seonghwa comes, ropes of his come shooting down your throat without you needing to swallow. As his orgasm washes over him, he pulls his cock out, moving one of his hands to your jaw and squeezing, keeping your mouth open and pliant. The tip of his dick rests against your lower lip as drops of come land in your mouth and dribble down your lips. When his cock softens, he tucks himself back in and leans down to spit in your mouth.

“Swallow.” His voice is rough and heavy, and you follow his command immediately. You don’t even notice Hongjoong stilled his hips until a moment later and you whine.

“So greedy,” Hongjoong scoffs, his hands gripping your waist and his nails digging into the skin. Without warning, he pulls you back down on his cock and you moan so loudly it’s bordering on a scream. “Your cunt is swallowing me so well, baby. I could do this for hours and I bet you’d just let it happen. God, I can’t believe I let you go last time, no one else could be such a perfect little cumdump for me.”

He punctuates each other with another thrust until he’s groaning as he reaches the edge of his pleasure, his come shooting deep into you and coating your walls. “God, she’s taking you so well,” Seonghwa hums, brushing your hair out of your eyes, the gentleness of his actions the complete opposite of how he was treating your mouth not a minute earlier.

Hongjoong laughs, pulling out his cock to see his come dripping out of you and making a little pool on the floor. His arms release you and you collapse onto the cool tile, your body shuddering. “She’s good, isn’t she,” he says fondly, his hands coming to pull apart your cheeks, admiring the sight of your hole fluttering around nothing. “She hadn’t even come after that. Would you like to reward this good behaviour, Hwa?”

A chuckle leaves Seonghwa as he moves around to settle in between your legs. You’re too tired to shift to see what they’re doing and you gasp as a flat tongue presses against your dripping hole. Your back arches and Hongjoong chuckles, pressing down on your shoulders to shove you further onto the tile.

Your thighs are shaking from the effort of keeping your hips up, but Seonghwa’s grip doesn’t relent as he licks into you like a starved man, tasting both your slick and Hongjoong’s come. The way it flicks your clit and it doesn’t take long for you to come apart on the title, moans spilling out of your mouth easily as you feel a great pressure on your core and your body shakes from the effort of it. You can hear the sloppy, wet sounds of Seonghwa licking up your release and even when you try to clench around his tongue you just know with how loose you are it doesn’t change much.

“Fuck, I didn’t know she squirts,” you hear the awe in Seonghwa’s voice and Hongjoong hums, please.

“Like I said, she’s really the perfect slut.” Hongjoong pats your head, but the praise doesn’t really register, your mind is all fuzzy from the fucking you just received, and all you do is yawn. You hear soft laughter from the two of them and Hongjoong pulls you into his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “All right, I get it. You can sleep, baby. We’ll clean you up. Just relax.”

At his sweet words, you let your head drop to his shoulder as you let him manoeuvre you so he can pick you up to bring you to a bath. You’re happy to be back.

As Hongjoong tucks you into bed, Seonghwa leans against the doorframe, waiting for you to finally drift off. As soon as your breathing levels, Seonghwa moves to stand by Hongjoong sitting on the bed, and he speaks up. “Beomhun asked for his money.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t get it. He broke the rules of the deal and laid his hands on my girl. The agreement was for him to scare her, not fucking hurt her.”

Seonghwa nods. “I know. He has been taken care of. Jongho and Yunho are happy to have been promoted, and I’m sure they’ll bring flowers to the funeral.”

Hongjoong chuckles, low in his throat to keep you from waking. “Good, good. It’ll be good to have some of our men higher in the police force too. Beomhun’s death was needed. But make sure she never finds out.” Seonghwa nods. “Can you go get a report from Yunho?”

Another nod. “I’ll see you later,” Seonghwa says, patting Hongjoong on the shoulder. “We’re still on for dinner, right?”

Hongjoong smiles. “Of course. Come here.” Seonghwa moves to stand between Hongjoong’s legs, much like how you did with him down in the basement. Without another word, Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’m happy to have both of you back. I’ll see you later tonight. Maybe YN will be awake for dinner as well.”

Seonghwa flushes red before kissing Hongjoong once more before slipping out the door. Hongjoong turns his attention back to you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“You’re back now, and I intend to keep it this way. No running away from me anymore,” he whispers, his fingers trailing down your face to ghost over your lips. “You’re mine, rosebud.”

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #pirateeznet #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong smut #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fanfiction #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #smut

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pirateprincessblog · 3 months

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LIBIDINE

>> 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆. 𝒘𝒉𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒕? <<

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: park seonghwa is a hard working, drop dead gorgeous, and caring man. he is a good boss, caring father and husband, and also almost thirty years older than alice. just why is alice so enamoured with this man, despite knowing that he could be her father?

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: love triangle, dilf!trope, age gap, dr*g abuse, domestic v*olence, daddy issues, cheating, erotic scenes

read here

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the7thcrow · 1 year

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Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 07

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Seven: an orphanage, an elemental, and comfort

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

chapter wc: 13.2k

extra chapter warnings: n/a

chapter summary:

“Have you ever killed a person?” You ask, and Wooyoung finds he isn’t surprised by the question. He doesn’t want to answer it, but he isn’t surprised by it.

He also believes the answer is something you should hear.

“I have,” he replies. “But sometimes people are monsters too.”

a/n: gave up on nanowrimo bc big surprise, i don’t have the time! everyone act shocked! plus side is y’all get this a bit earlier. this chapter’s a bit of an odd-ball. different, but i think it’s important. enjoy!

“I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you-”

When Wooyoung awakens, it’s with a start. Flying upwards from his place atop the pillow as if forcefully pulled by an invisible string, he holds himself on the back of his hands, arms trembling as they individually steady on both sides of him.

The tent is dark, too dark. The moon having disappeared beneath a cloudy blanket for the night, he can’t see anything amidst the blackness. The only indication of San’s presence is the sound of his breathing, and Wooyoung acknowledges the steadiness of it. He’s sleeping well, soundly. The pattern is rhythmic, and it’s a relief. Wooyoung knows that the swordsman hasn’t had a solid rest since Gloria, having overhead as San has fearfully muttered Jay’s name in his sleep.

He’d reach out to touch him, to try and comfort him, but San has made a point of sleeping on the opposite side of the tent. Wooyoung has accepted that this is just the way it’s going to be for now, until San decides to tell him why exactly he’s been so angry with him these last few days. Wooyoung thinks he might be embarrassed from his breakdown after Gloria, but while that would explain the evasiveness, it wouldn’t justify the coldness the swordsmen has been inflicting on him.

It irritates Wooyoung, but maybe San just needs time, and he doesn’t have much choice but to grant it.

Even so, it remains true that he’s glad that San is finally sleeping peacefully. However, Wooyoung is not as fortunate. His chest heaves, each breath requiring an almost gruelling amount of effort. His palms are clammy, forehead drenched in sweat. His clothes cling to him as if threaded through his flesh.

It’s been a while since he last dreamed of them. Almost a month to be exact, but no matter how long it’s been, the nightmares always leave him feeling as if his skin has been turned inside out.

Bringing up a hand to wipe the hair that clings to his forehead, his fingers are almost too shaky to manage the task. Falling back onto his pillow, he stares up into the blackness.

Amidst it, Wooyoung sees a face. His face. Those mischievous, affectionate eyes. He sees the blood. He sees the burnt flesh.

Then he sees her. He sees her unbridled, agonizing tears. He hears her broken sobs.

Wooyoung needs to get out of this tent.

Pushing himself back upwards, it takes far more effort this time around, his body wishing for nothing more than to shut down. Yet, he manages, tossing the blanket off of himself - which has begun to feel far too hot, anyway - he rises to his feet. Keeping light on his toes as to not awaken the swordsman, he steps over him, lingering only a moment to gaze upon San’s sleeping form. It’s barely visible through the darkness, but Wooyoung can swear he sees the hint of a smile on San’s lips.

If it weren't for the way it currently feels as if he’s suffocating, Wooyoung would have the urge to smile too.

Sucking in a tight breath, the elemental slips through the tent-flap, out into the brisk forest air. After days of what has felt like endless struggle, the group of you have finally made your way out of the Calanthian Desert and into the outskirts of Morrow Forest, soon to be followed by the Burovian Mountains.

Wooyoung is immensely relieved. He’s considering approaching San and Seonghwa with the idea to take a different path on the way home from Kuroku. Even if avoiding the desert would lengthen the trip almost double-fold, he thinks they’ll all be in agreement that they never wish to touch another grain of sand so long as they live.

The wind of the forest is stronger than he’d expected, its brisk chill almost stinging against the sweat that beads along his forehead. He welcomes it, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself. It almost works.

Turning towards the make-shift fire pit, he fashions a ball of flame within his hand, hoping to reignite the campfire. However, upon turning around he finds that the fire he’d started earlier in the evening continues to burn brightly, sparks flying as the large flame contests the sharp wind.

You sit, bundled in a woolen blanket as you cling closely to the fire’s warmth, hand resting on yet another log to feed the flame. You don’t notice him.

Wooyoung attempts to take a quiet step backwards and towards his tent, but the branch that crunches beneath his foot betrays him. Echoing throughout your campsite, he grimaces as your head whirls around, eyes locking with his own almost immediately.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. Eventually, it is you who speaks. “I thought you went to sleep.”

Wooyoung doesn’t move, neither closer to his tent or towards the fire. “I did. I woke up.”

You hum at this, gaze drifting from his own and back towards the flames. You toss another log on top of them, and the fire crackles in appreciation, sparks billowing from beneath the wood. They dance around you, the growing flames casting a rich auburn glow over your face. It’s only then that he realizes you’ve been crying.

He swallows deeply, and despite himself, he takes a few steps towards the fire. His mind is not fuzzy per say, the nightmare enough to shock his brain into awareness, but in a way it feels as if he’s still dreaming. As if his body is being led rather than consciously moved.

“What time is it?” He asks, standing before the flames. He extends his hands out to warm them, although he strengthens the fire while doing so, feeds into its energy. It’s not a conscious decision, but instinct. A calling towards the element, a need to wield it. Seonghwa has described his gift the same way.

“A few hours near sunrise, I think” you reply, not looking up at him. Instead, your eyes reflect the flames as he bends them, there’s a certain emptiness to them.

Your eyes have held that emptiness since your run in with the mimic yesterday morning. You haven’t spoken much since then, and as much as Wooyoung wants to pretend he doesn’t, he feels for you.

He gets it, that helplessness. The realization of what horrors you are capable of. The fear that you would do it again.

Or worse, the knowing that you would do it again.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Wooyoung asks, and you laugh, although it’s more of a humourless exhale through your nose.

“I didn’t try,” you reply plainly. He isn’t sure what to say to this, so he remains quiet. After a tense moment, he sighs. He wants to be alone, to bend the flames until his mind slows down to settle back into a weak sort of half-rest. But now you’re here, and that doesn’t appear to be an option.

He can’t bring himself to resent you for it. He thinks that tonight you may need the company of the flames even more than he does.

When you finally speak, your voice is hollow. Defeated. “I killed a person.”

“You killed a mimic,” Wooyoung amends. He knows it won’t ease any of the pain, but he figures it’s worth an attempt. It’s a fact after all. “You killed a monster.”

“He looked like a person,” you reply, before shaking your head. Wooyoung fears you may begin to cry again, but you don’t, simply allow your eyes to fall shut. “He talked and breathed like a person. He bled like a person.”

There was a lot of blood, Wooyoung cannot deny that. Still, the statement rubs him as wrong, and he presses a little harder. “Yes, but he wasn’t a person. He was a monster.”

You don’t acknowledge this. Instead your eyes flicker open once more, staring into his own rather than the flame. “Have you ever killed a person?” You ask, and Wooyoung finds he isn’t surprised by the question. He doesn’t want to answer it, but he isn’t surprised by it.

He also believes the answer is something you should hear.

“I have,” he replies. “But sometimes people are monsters too.”

You blink at this, chewing on the corner of your lip as if mulling over his response, not entirely satisfied. “Does it keep you awake at night?”

Wooyoung does not have to consider the question before answering. “Somewhat,” he says, finally pulling his gaze away from you and up towards the sky, to the blackness hanging above him, to where the faces of his ghosts come alive. “It’s a part of why I’m awake tonight.”

He thinks you may accept that as answer enough, but you do not. “Talk,” you say softly, and he can feel your eyes still on him even if he can no longer see them. “Tell me about it.”

“With all due respect, Kuroken,” he sighs, shaking his head. “We are not friends. We had an understanding yesterday, a mutual interest. Do not read any more into it than that.”

He thinks you may get angry at his dismissal, but instead you laugh. Genuinely, as if something about what he said was amusing.

“Do not mistake what I say as kindness,” you cut back, bringing your legs upwards and shuffling yourself backwards to lean against the log behind you. A far more comfortable position, as if you’re preparing to be seated there for a while. “I do not wish to comfort you, I wish to comfort myself. I figure since I am hardly more than a stranger, and will be out of your life forever in less than a week, you may be able to grant me that.”

The reasoning is strange, and Wooyoung looks over at you. Eyebrows furrowing together, he scans your expression in search of ill intent, of any falsity. You watch him in return, and your face gives nothing of the sort, only sincerity.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t make you,” you say, accompanied by a small shrug. “I just need a distraction. Maybe someone to relate to.”

If you had asked Wooyoung for anything similar yesterday morning, he would have laughed in your face. He would have told you to piss off, to leave him alone and talk to Seonghwa, or someone else who cared.

But Seonghwa wouldn’t get this, and San wouldn’t either. Neither of them have killed from fury, from unbridled anger and vengeance. Seonghwa doesn’t even kill the beasts they hunt, merely wounds them with his arrows. San does, but not humanoid beasts. Nothing that can speak to him. San had offered for them to kill the mimic yesterday morning, but Wooyoung knows that he would have been the one to do it. He would have been the only one who could.

Well, other than you. You did it, and you did it with a thirst. Passionate hatred, followed by agony.

And for the first time - not only on this trip, but in the years since the orphanage - Wooyoung saw himself in somebody. The darkest part of himself that he pretends does not exist, the part that would burn Jay alive if he had the chance, that sadistically screamed with a vengeance on that fateful night so many years ago. The part that haunts him with the horrors of what he has done, that keeps him awake on nights such as this one, he saw it in you.

It scares him to know that something so dark resides in you. A rich and pampered girl from Kuroku, who has known little of the danger they have all faced, whose mind is somehow a home to a fury so horrid.

It scares him equally as much how it comforts him to know that he is not alone.

“I don’t know, Kuroken,” he says, shaking his head. A part of him doesn’t understand why he doesn’t automatically decline. He does not talk about his dreams, just as he does not talk about his past. Partly due to the fact that he fears digging up old woes may only give them strength, will only cause them to fester. Best to keep the past buried, where only the subconscious of the night can touch them.

However, his avoidance also has to do with the fact that he doesn’t think San or Seonghwa would understand. They don’t carry that darkness with them, that same thirst for vengeance that he does. Seonghwa longs for his home in a way that reminds Wooyoung of a sailor, dreaming for a past land even though the sea carries him in the opposite direction. Even San, who has been wronged in the most horrific and deprecating of ways does not talk of killing Jay, only escaping him.

They would not relate to his history, nor would they respond to it the way Wooyoung wishes them to.

Which perhaps is why he now hesitates. You will relate to his history, to the horrors of his actions, at least a little more than they would. You would also not comfort him, not take his feelings on as your own responsibility the way they would.

His buried past has always been just below the surface, clawing at the dirt above, poking out a greedy hand whenever he has let his guard down. Maybe now is a chance to dig them up without the consequence, without the immense vulnerability. If he tells you now, in a week's time you will be gone, and then he can pretend as if he never did. Maybe then the ghosts will leave him alone, if he finally takes the opportunity to cast them out.

When he begins, he approaches the admission like descending into a free-fall.

“I grew up in one of the Libaiyan elemental orphanages,” he says, practically bracing himself for the spews of sympathy he’ll surely be given. Instead all he receives is silence, and when he glances up at you, he’s met with a bewildered look.

“The…what?” You ask, and he almost laughs. You must be joking.

“Come on,” he starts, raising an eyebrow as he snorts. He’s still not sure if you’re being serious, even as your confused expression does not change. “You said you’ve been working in the Libaiyan castle for the entire summer, surely you must have heard about the orphanages.”

“No,” you begin, hesitant. He’s not sure why, but the statement seems to strike you deeply, as your frown worsens. When you speak, your tone is almost defensive. “They don’t make orphanages strictly for elementals.”

At this he actually does laugh. “They do more than just that,” he replies, and when your frown deepens, jaw opening in something of shock, he pauses. “Do you actually not know what I’m talking about?”

Your lack of response is answer enough. Wooyoung blows out a puff of air through his lips, realizing that this may be more daunting than he’d expected. When people hear “Libaiyan elemental orphanage”, they’re prepared for the horrors they may hear. They know what to expect, and those are details that are anything but pleasant.

“Alright, Kuroken,” he sighs, finally relinquishing his standing position to seat himself beside you. “Brace yourself.”

“Wooyoung, put that back!” Winter spits, although her voice remains a hushed whisper as to not alert the warden. Reaching out to grab the extra breakfast roll, Wooyoung lifts it up and out of her reach. He’s not much taller than her, just the perfect amount that even as she rises onto her tip-toes, the bread remains just out of reach.

Wooyoung chuckles, pulling the bread back down and shoving the entire roll into his mouth. Winter glowers in response, and he laughs through the bite, little pieces of bread flying out with every individual chuckle.

“You’re a pig,” she mumbles, reaching forward to grab her own breakfast roll from The Caf’s counter. She doesn’t mean it, not exactly. After all, the singular breakfast roll they’re permitted is certainly not enough for any growing child. While she criticizes him for taking another one, she doesn’t truly perceive it as gluttony.

Wooyoung knows that she worries for him, she just doesn’t want him to get in trouble… again. He feels a little bad for the amount of stress he puts her through, as he always seems to be in trouble for something or other these days.

“Do you want me to grab you an extra one?” Wooyoung asks, and before she can irritatedly decline, a voice over Wooyoung’s shoulder answers for her.

“What, and drag her down with you on your quest to royally piss off every single warden?”

Wooyoung is already grinning before he turns around to meet the boy's eyes.

Despite his words, Yeonjun is smiling when Wooyoung turn’s to face him, looking down at him with affectionate eyes. Yeonjun is tall for his age, much taller than Wooyoung. It makes Yeonjun’s grey slacks fit better than his do, more fitted to his body compared to the way his own sag slightly. He isn’t sure why, but something about that makes Wooyoung feel lighter, his cheeks warm.

“Hey, I’m making progress,” Wooyoung chirps, walking past Yeonjun to grab a cup of water. It’s made of paper, as to not grant the children any possible weapons should they break them. The cups are also only half-full, so should they choose to wield their gift, there wouldn’t be enough water for them to do any damage, either.

It’s smart, fool-proof. They’ve had over a decade to perfect the system.

“I think I only have a couple left,” Wooyoung boasts, waiting for Yeonjun and Winter to grab their own cups of water before making his way over to a spare table. “Well, maybe more. This guy is new, I think.”

Wooyoung nods over to the new warden in the far corner of the room. He looks just like the rest of them, adorned fully in white armour, the Libaiyan sigil across his breast-plate. The only way to differentiate him from a regular soldier is the fact that the majority of his face is covered, an embarrassingly large helmet to hide all of his facial features but his eyes.

When he was younger, Wooyoung didn’t understand why they wore that. It looked ridiculous, especially considering they were tasked with watching and disciplining children. Even if they were elementals, it’s not like they were given access to any elements to bend. Well, unless they were more-so air affiliated like Yeonjun, but even then you quickly learned the repercussions of wielding the elements anywhere outside of practice.

Wooyoung now understands that it is to make them look inhumane. Soldiers, not to be mistaken as care-givers, or a replacement to a parent. They are not here to love the children, they are here to shape them. Discipline them, turn them into the soldiers they are meant to be.

It makes Wooyoung feel sick.

“Well, I’m sure it won’t be long until you can check him off your list,” Winter says, and despite the way she rolls her eyes, Wooyoung can detect a certain amount of fondness in her tone.

“That’s the spirit,” Wooyoung grins. Taking a sip of his drink, he reaches forward to try and sneak a bite of her breakfast roll, to which he’s met with the water in his cup spontaneously flying up at him and into his nose.

Spluttering, he pulls his hand away, and Winter giggles to herself. Bringing her own hand - the culprit to the water’s sudden attack - back down, he hadn’t even noticed she’d raised it in the first place. After all, she has to be sneaky about it, if she doesn’t want to get caught. “Nice try,” she snorts, taking a large bite of the roll, wrinkling her nose at him in a teasing fashion.

“Mean,” Yeonjun says, reaching over from his place beside her and ruffling her dark hair. Winter whines, shoving his hand away. Yeonjun often treats her as the child of their trio, even though she’s only a couple months younger than Wooyoung, who is only a few months younger than Yeonjun. As of now they’re even all the same age, thirteen.

Winter despises it when Yeonjun teases her, which Wooyoung finds amusing.

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Yeonjun asks, shifting his attention to Wooyoung. When he raises an eyebrow, Yeonjun clarifies: “It’s the first day of the autumn season.”

Wooyoung groans, having completely forgotten. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbles, dramatically burying his face in his crossed arms resting on the table.

The first day of the autumn season, or in other words, Assessment Day. The day in which the Libaiyan King makes sure all his little soldiers are being bred and trained to perfection. It’s a day of challenges, of performing different functional tasks and sparring against the other orphans.

For most, Assessment Day is gruelling and tiresome. For kids like Wooyoung, who can barely use their gift, it’s utter hell.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get it this time,” Winter offers. She’s trying to be kind, but Wooyoung just feels patronized.

“Or maybe I’ll sprout wings and fly us all out of here,” he mutters, and he doesn’t miss the concerned glance Yeonjun and Winter share between one another. They’ve been watching him get his ass-kicked and confidence beaten down on Assessment Day for years now, and Wooyoung can tell that they’re starting to feel as dejected as he does.

“It’ll be alright,” Yeonjun says, reaching over and holding Wooyoung’s hand on the table. The gesture makes Wooyoung’s heart beat a little faster. “You could surprise yours-”

Yeonjun isn’t given the chance to finish the sentiment, as he’s cut off by a loud banging noise. The pounding echoes loudly throughout The Caf, the sound bouncing off its thick concrete walls, and Wooyoung’s hands fly up to cover his ears.

“Chit-chat is over!” A voice announces, followed by another fit of banging. Wooyoung turns to find that the source of the noise is the warden, the new guy. Not necessarily a surprise, considering the mallet and miniature gong he holds in his hand is also new. And loud. Wooyoung hopes it doesn’t become a regular presence during breakfast, he’s already not much of a morning person.

“Everyone stand for the pledge of allegiance,” the warden orders, and for a moment nobody moves. Winter raises an eyebrow, casting Wooyoung a wary look. They don’t pledge allegiance to the king in the mornings, only after dinner.

“I’m sorry, you all must not have heard me,” the warden laughs, before banging the mallet against the gong three more deafening times. “Get on your fucking feet.”

They don’t need to be told a third time, as The Caf is immediately filled with the sound of kids shuffling themselves off of the cement benches. Turning towards the Libaiyan flag that hangs in the top corner of the room - a golden sun cast over a stark white background - everyone opens their mouth in unison, prepared to speak.

“Hold on,” the warden says, lifting a hand up in protest, and the entire room hesitates. “There are going to be some new rules around here, I suggest you listen closely, you wouldn’t want to be caught forgetting them.”

Wooyoung frowns. Who is this guy?

“Firstly, we will pledge allegiance three times per day, at every meal. Assessment Day will no longer be at the start of every season, but every month, and we will focus solely on sparring. When you receive an order, you are expected to follow it, immediately and with no questions asked. Disobedience will not be tolerated, and neither will dawdling. You are expected to-”

“Somebody's got a big ego for his first day on the job,” Wooyoung whispers to Yeonjun, who stifles a laugh.

The warden suddenly pauses. He doesn’t even need to scan the room, his eyes land immediately on Wooyoung.

“Jung Wooyoung,” he says, and the boy freezes. How does he already know his name? “Get your ass to the front.”

He doesn’t move, and the warden’s eyes widen, almost crazed. Wooyoung cannot see the rest of his face through the mask, but he can almost hear the smirk in the man’s voice. “What did I just say about dawdling?”

Winter gives him a small nudge from behind, pushing him forward. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him as he makes his way to the front. It doesn’t really bother him, it’s not the first time he’s been reamed out in front of everybody. He’s been yelled at so many times he’s lost count, and received a belt to the wrist enough that the skin is almost permanently bruised.

He’s not ashamed of it, if anything, he’s proud. They can’t break him, he hasn’t let them. He will never let them.

When he gets to the front, the warden places a hand on his shoulder. His touch is gentle, and yet the gesture feels anything but compassionate.

“Jung Wooyoung,” he repeats, tilting his head as his eyes flicker up and down, observing him. “The other warden’s told me about you.”

Wooyoung knows that he shouldn’t say anything, but he can’t help himself. “All praise, I’m sure.”

The warden laughs, but something tells Wooyoung that he doesn’t actually find his words amusing. “They tell me you’re nothing but a brat,” the warden answers, tone almost jovial. “Supposed to have an affinity to fire, yet can barely light a candle. A waste of a good pair of slacks. ”

Wooyoung stiffins, the comment causing a flare of annoyance to light inside of him. “I could say the same about your uniform.”

For a moment, the warden pauses, entire body stilling. Looking Wooyoung in the eye, the elemental cannot quite make out what he’s thinking, but something about the warden’s gaze troubles him. There’s a darkness behind his eyes, something sinister.

Then the warden grabs him by the back of his hair - which is conveniently tied into a short ponytail, perfect for grabbing -and cracks Wooyoung’s nose over his knee.

The shock of the blow is enough for him to let out a gasp, a few seconds passing by before he’s even able to register the pain. Instead, he feels the blood pouring from his nostril, a steady stream that drips down onto his lips.

Hand still gripped in his hair, Wooyoung is pulled harshly towards the warden’s face. The man’s breath smells of something sweet, almost sickly so. Wooyoung focuses on keeping the tears that dwell in his eyes from falling.

“You’ve been lucky to get away with this piss-awful attitude,” the warden grits through his teeth. His voice is drawn low, but the room is so silent that Wooyoung is sure everyone can hear him anyway. “Fortunately, that ends today.”

At this, his grip tightens, yanking Wooyoung away from his face and holding him outwards to look at the rest of the children. The warden grasps him a little too high, so that Wooyoung has to remain on his tip-toes in order to touch the floor. He feels like a doll, a toy haphazardly being tossed around.

“The King is unimpressed with your progress,” he announces to the room, shaking Wooyoung as if he’s an exhibit to his point. “The other warden’s have been going far too easy on you. You are soldiers, not children. They appear to have forgotten that.”

Shoving Wooyoung forward, the sudden loss of his grip as him stumbling, crashing down onto the cement floor. His knees burn at the impact, skin stinging through the newly-formed holes in his slacks. He grimaces.

“That is why I’m here,” the warden continues, tone almost proud. “Today, I take matters into my own hands, in the name of your true lord.”

Wooyoung turns backwards, eyes locking with the warden’s. The man does not look away.

“Today, the formation of the new army finally begins.”

“Maybe they’ll match you up against Felix next,” Winter says, gently wrapping a bandage around Wooyoung’s freshly burnt wrist. It stings and Wooyoung can’t help but wince, to which she casts him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, he can barely form a gentle breeze,” Yeonjun adds, giving Wooyoung a pat on the back. It doesn’t reassure him, it just hurts. He’s really fucking sore.

“They aren’t going to pin me against Felix,” Wooyoung murmurs, shaking his head. “If you haven’t noticed, they only pair people up with the same affinity.”

And because Wooyoung is just so damn lucky, that means he’s paired with those of the fire affinity. Or in other words, the most painful affinity.

He doesn’t think it’s fair, mostly because it’s a joke to even say he has an affinity to fire. It’d be more accurate to say he has an affinity to nothing. Hell, he’s barely even an elemental. He can light a candle on a good day, he’s no more useful than a flint and steel.

It also doesn’t help that Winter and Yeonjun are both extremely talented in their respective areas. Winter has an affinity to water, especially in its frozen form, it’s how she got her nickname. Wooyoung’s seen her lift about a ton of ice from a frozen pond, which had even the supervising warden impressed.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun is talented in basically all elements. He can light a fire out of thin air, redirect a rushing stream, or even separate a rock clean into two. The wardens only labeled him under the affinity of air because it’s undoubtedly his greatest strength. Watching him spar is like watching the wind blow, he has an unmatched elegance, using the breeze to increase his speed and strength behind his strikes.

Wooyoung wishes he was like that. He wishes he could simply light a torch, or strengthen a flame. He wishes the word “gifted” applied to him, because “fraud” is beginning to feel more and more appropriate.

It’s been three months since the new warden showed up, meaning three Assessment Days have come and gone, meaning Wooyoung has gotten his ass handed to him enough times that he’s even been tempted to pray to the gods for a miracle. Well, not a miracle, more so a chance to actually use the gift they supposedly gave him.

“Jung,” a voice pipes up from outside the medical tent, and Wooyoung already knows who it is before turning to face him. Nobody else calls him that.

The warden - or Warden, as they’ve taken to referring to him as based on the fact that he is clearly a level above the rest of them - stands in the entry-way with his mask and thick white armour, arms crossed. “Get in the ring, you’re up next.”

“But he just finished a match!” Winter protests, placing a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder defensively. Warden chuckles.

“Get in the ring, Jung,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Don’t drag your friends that are actually competent down with you.”

While Wooyoung doesn’t see eye to eye with Warden on much, he does agree that he doesn’t want Winter getting into any trouble on his account. Gently removing Winter’s hand from his shoulder, he gives her a small smile before following Warden out of the tent. Both her and Yeonjun trail after them, keeping their fair-share of distance so as to not irritate Warden.

“Who am I sparring with?” Wooyoung asks, and Warden’s hand falls onto his shoulder, painting the illusion of comfort. He does his best not to flinch, Warden always does this before he’s about to announce something awful. Wooyoung braces himself, maybe he’ll be forced to spar with Taehyun again, his leg is still healing from the burn marks from over a month ago.

“Me,” Warden answers, and Wooyoung stills, feet rendered imobile as his entire body freezes. Warden stops with him, as if he’d expected it.

“What?” Wooyoung asks, and he hates the way his voice shakes, a mixture of both shock and fear. “But that’s not part of the rules-”

“The rules are that we match you together based on your affinities,” Warden explains, leaning in a little closer. His eyes bare into Wooyoung’s, an icy shade of pale blue that feels almost inhuman. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have an affinity. Which means I’m the only one here you can spar with. Isn’t that fair?”

Wooyoung doesn’t respond. Warden finally removes his hand from the boy’s shoulder, making his way towards the ring. Wooyoung can’t bring his feet to move.

Warden twists around, blue eyes glinting in the reflection of the fallen snow. “Come on, Jung. Let’s get this over with.”

“He’s a fucking tool,” Yeonjun spits, wrapping a bandage around Wooyoung’s finger. Wooyoung winces, biting hard on his lower lip in hopes of distracting himself from the pain. He’s sure to keep his gaze on Yeonjun’s face, as the horrific angle at which his finger is bent is too sickening to look at.

“We’ve done little to no sword training, and yet he thinks it’s funny to take you on like that in front of anyone? What a prick,” Yeonjun continues. He’s practically fuming, and Wooyoung isn’t sure if he’s ever seen him like this. Maybe when Winter stole his family ring during a particularly bad spat between them a few years ago, but even then he calmed down pretty quick after they sorted it out.

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung says, even though he doesn’t mean it. He’s fuming inside, and frankly doesn’t understand why he’s trying to console Yeonjun considering he is the one with the broken finger. He just doesn’t like seeing Yeonjun upset.

“It’s not fine,” Yeonjun says, gaze flying upwards from the bandages to meet Wooyoung’s own. “Someone should teach him a lesson.”

Wooyoung knows that he’s being sincere, but he can’t help but snort at that. “Who, you?”

“Why not me?” Yeonjun asks, taking his words as a challenge. “If he took off that armour I could beat him in a fight. I could beat him using just one element.”

“And then what?” Wooyoung asks, giving him a sad smile. “Get beaten to death by the other wardens for defiance?”

“Well for you maybe it would be worth it,” Yeonjun grumbles. Wooyoung knows that he’s just mad, that he doesn’t really mean it, but he wishes Yeonjun wouldn’t say things like that. Half because it hurts him, half because it makes his chest swell in a way he can’t explain.

Wooyoung doesn’t say this, instead settling for silence as Yeonjun finishes wrapping his finger. He watches as Yeonjun’s eyebrows draw together in deeper concentration, full lips pouting absently.

“There,” Yeonjun says suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts. “All better.”

Finally looking back down at his hand, he isn’t sure if he agrees with the sentiment. The wrapping is by no means professional, as well as uneven in places. But considering he wasn’t permitted to visit the medical tent after the fight, it’s the best that he can ask for. After all, it does look better, not perfect, but also not noticeably crooked or coated in blood.

Wooyoung stares at the bandage, flipping his hand over and then back again. Then he looks up at Yeonjun, and the words are out of his mouth before he can contemplate them.

“What if we escaped?”

Yeonjun looks back at him, eyes wide in surprise. “What?” He asks through a laugh, assuming that he’s joking.

Except Wooyoung is not joking. Looking out the window to his right, the moon shines brightly upon them. It’s a beautifully clear night for the middle of winter, especially in southern Burovia, where the weather tends to be more extreme. “What if we took off in the middle of the night?”

“They’d kill us, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun says, voice soft. He’s not angry in his disagreement, but gentle, as if he wishes he had Wooyoung’s spark. “They have guards stationed all over the grounds, you know that.”

“But what if we really planned it out?” Wooyoung continues, rising to his feet and moving over to the window. His mouth is moving faster than his thoughts. Until now, he’d never even considered deserting, but now that he’s speaking he can’t believe he dreamed of anything but leaving. Overthrowing the wardens is an impossible task, but escaping them? Now with that they may have a shot.

“If we figured out which areas are the least guarded, which hallway has the quietest floorboards to tread over. We could search for which warden has a trick knee, or maybe a weak ankle. You even said you could take out the strongest warden with just one element, surely you could take out a few weaker ones with all four!”

“Okay, wait, slow down,” Yeonjun says, placing a steadying hand down on his shoulder. “Are you being serious?”

Wooyoung whirls around to face him, mimicking the gesture by placing his own hand on Yeonjun’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “I’ve never been more serious.”

For a moment, Yeonjun remains silent. Eyes flickering over Wooyoung’s features, he opens his mouth to say something, before snapping his lips shut as if deciding better. He tries again, and this time his tone is hesitant. “I think it’s an awful idea. But if you are going to leave, I’ll come with you.”

Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrow together at this. “If you think it’s stupid then don’t come, Jun. I’m not forcing you.”

“I know you’re not,” Yeonjun replies, almost a little too quickly. Once again, he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Wooyoung feels a jolt of annoyance.

“If you’ve got something to say, then just say it,” he says, crossing his arms. “I don’t get why you have this constant need to protect me. I can take care of myself, whether you come or not, so don’t feel obligated-”

“I don’t feel obligated,” Yeonjun cuts in, tone serious, and Wooyoung eyes him carefully. When Yeonjun’s eyes meet his own, the older one does not look away. “But you’re right that I want to protect you.”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Why? I know I can’t use my gift and that makes me useless by yours and Winter’s standards, but I’m not some helpless-”

He’s cut off by Yeonjun’s lips placing themselves on his own.

Wooyoung blinks, eyes practically glued to Yeonjun’s nose-bridge as he can not bring himself to move. Entire body frozen, he attempts to get the gears in his mind to start turning again, the entire system momentarily on lock-down.

Until now, he’d never been kissed before. He’d imagined it, certainly. Not really with anyone in particular, but rather just what it may be like. He knew it was supposed to be nice, having overheard some of the older kids who were emitted to the orphanage in their teenage years talk about it before, but he didn’t really understand why.

Why would shoving your lips against another person’s be pleasant? In fact, the thought of his tongue being anywhere near someone else’s was utterly repulsing. As far as Wooyoung was concerned, saliva should be reserved to a person’s own mouth, and nowhere else. Spit was considered indecent, so why would people voluntarily ingest it.

But now, as Yeonjun places his hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder in order to pull him closer, he guesses it sort of makes sense.

Closing his eyes, he attempts to reciprocate this kiss. He feels a bit awkward, focusing too much on what his own lips are doing, almost self-conscious. His arms hang inept at his side, and he wishes he had some sort of clue for what to do with them.

The kiss only lasts a few seconds before Yeonjun pulls away. When he does, it takes Wooyoung a moment to open his eyes again. He finds that Yeonjun is already looking at him. There is a small smile on his face, almost amused, but not quite. Affectionate, perhaps.

“It’s not that I think you couldn’t do it without me, Wooyoung. I know you’re fully capable,” he murmurs, hand gently squeezing Wooyoung’s shoulder. “It’s that I can’t stand the thought of being left here without you.”

Wooyoung doesn’t know what to say, as his tongue has apparently decided to lose its ability to form words, so he simply nods.

“It’s dangerous,” Yeonjun continues. “Incredibly stupid, but if you really want to do this, I’m coming along. Whether you like it or not.”

“I like it,” Wooyoung replies dumbly, and Yeonjun lets out a breathy chuckle. The boy may only be a few months older than Wooyoung, but at this moment Wooyoung feels about a million years younger. Yeonjun has always been so confident in everything he does, in combat practice and in conversation. Even now, after taking such a leap of faith, he appears unphased. Maybe a little giddy, yes, but not nervous or afraid.

Wooyoung tries to be the same way, but for him it feels like pretending, like he’s putting on an act. He wishes that one day he’ll hold that same sort of natural sureness that currently makes his own heart race a little too quickly.

“We’ll have to talk to Winter, get her on board,” Yeonjun says, pursing his lips in thought. After a moment he sighs, shaking his head. “She is not going to like this.”

“We’ll convince her,” Wooyoung assures him, before shrugging. “When does she like any of our ideas at first, anyway?”

Yeonjun laughs at this. His gaze drifts out the window, the smallest hint of a smile settling on his lips. Hand suddenly reaching out, his fingers intertwine themselves with Wooyoung’s own, who clumsily accepts them.

“Alright,” Yeonjun breathes, and his tone is playful. Teasing, as he squeezes Wooyoung’s hand. “You better not get us all killed.”

It’s two months after the night Yeonjun kissed him that they escape the orphanage. Two months of planning their escape route, of sneaking out to test the floorboards in the middle of the night, and nearly getting caught a handful of times. Of observing the different wardens to check for any physical flaws, discovering one with a trick knee and another with the slightest hint of limp. Of analyzing their posture and stature in order to figure out which warden is placed on watch duty at the gate of the east entrance, so they can plan which night the weakest will be on guard.

Two months of making sure that their escape plan is foolproof, that there is no possibility for failure.

And as of now, it seems that their persistence has paid off.

An hour outside of the orphanage gates, the forest stands thick around them. Guided by the light of the moon, as well as the ball of fire within Yeonjun’s palm, they creep quietly across the beaten forest past. They aren’t sure where exactly they’re going, never taught the geography of Burovia - or of anything outside of the orphanage’s walls - but they hope that if they follow the path long enough they’ll wind up somewhere more populated.

“I think I hear something,” Winter whispers, grabbing Yeonjun’s arm from out in front of her and pulling him back, before casting Wooyoung a worried glance.

“It’s just the wind, or maybe a squirrel or something.” Yeonjun assures her, chuckling as he pulls his arm free. “You’re being too paranoid. We’ve done it.”

“We haven’t done it,” she argues, although she does start walking again in order to continue after him. “They could still find the guards in the bush and come after us, or check our sleeping quarters. They could be following us right now.”

Yeonjun had been right, Winter did not want to do this. When they first approached her with the idea, she’d told them that they were both insane and that she would have no part in their madness. However, after about a month of Wooyoung and Yeonjun planning their escape, she must have begun to feel left out. Or better, scared that they may go through with it, and then she would be left behind.

Wooyoung feels a little bad for dragging her into this, especially considering it had been his idea, but he knows that at the end of the day she wants this just as bad as they do. It’s been years since they entered the orphanage together, eight to be exact, and they’ve all been forced to deal with the warden’s cruelty. The unyielding obedience, the severe punishment. Just last month Winter was locked in the watch-tower for three days after being a few minutes late to breakfast, and thus the pledge of allegiance.

Wooyoung cannot wait to never pledge that stupid oath again in his life. Maybe the three of them will develop a new oath, one that pledges to never stop seeking vengeance on the King of Libaiya for what he did to them.

“It’ll snow within the next few hours, I’m sure you can feel it,” Yeonjun reasons, raising a hand to let the wind trickle between his fingers. “That will cover our footprints. We’ll be fine.”

Winter doesn’t say anything in response, chewing nervously on her lower lip as her gaze scans the underbrush, barron in its frozen state. “Something just feels off, like it was too easy.”

“That’s because we planned it,” Wooyoung says, teasing. “Did you want it to be difficult?”

“No, I did not want it to be difficult,” Winters spits, as if it is the most brainless thing she’s ever heard. Then she sighs, arms wrapping around herself, more from fear than the cold. “I just… don’t you think it should have been?”

As if on cue, an arrow flies out from the forest, lodging itself deeply within her shoulder.

Winter lets out a scream, one loud enough that Wooyoung would normally wish to cover his ears, if it weren’t for the sudden ringing that blares through them. Winter stumbles backwards a few steps, eyes blown-out wide as she stares in shock at the wound.

“You’re a clever girl,” a voice speaks out from the forest. A voice Wooyoung knows, with an arrogant tone that has practically embedded itself in his mind. His heart stops. “So much potential. Unfortunate how you got yourself wrapped up in the wrong crowd.”

Warden steps out of the bush, white armour gleaming in the moonlight cast down from above the tree’s canopy, like a king standing atop the equally stark white snow.

“No,” Wooyoung thinks, mind fogging in a haze of shock and horror. “No, no, no.”

Warden is not alone, as almost a dozen other sets of white armour walk out behind him. One of them has a bow in hand, the obvious culprit of the arrow. They filter out of the forest like ants, swarming out around them in a semi-circle, so that if they were to run it would be directly back in the direction of the orphanage.

“I knew you were pathetic, Jung. But deserting?” Warden says, piercing eyes watching him through the mask. “This is a new level of low, even for you.”

Wooyoung opens his mouth to defend himself, but Yeonjun speaks before he has the chance. “Piss off,” he spits, the ball of flame in his hand sparking higher, a testament to his rising anger.

“And you,” Warden begins, eyes drifting from Wooyoung to land on Yeonjun. “You are talented, you actually fulfill the word gifted. And yet you decided to throw it all away for your useless little boyfriend?”

Now this catches Yeonjun off guard, jaw hanging open slightly, eyes widening as if caught. “H-how did you-”

“You think I didn’t know?” Warden cuts him off, before laughing to himself, a borderline insane sound. “Do you actually think I’m not aware of every little thing that goes on in those walls? In my walls?”

Yeonjun’s lack of response seems to be answer enough, and Warden continues.

“Do you think you actually got away with sneaking through the halls around the sleeping quarters every night? That I didn’t notice the creaking floorboards? Or that I didn’t see you eyeing the wardens, whispering to one another after noticing Carter’s limp?”

Carter. It’s strange, that’s the first time Wooyoung has heard one of their real names. It almost feels too human.

“Did you really think I started putting the two weakest guards together on the least secure gate every Monday night just out of stupidity?”

Wooyoung swallows hard, a sob arising thickly in his throat. They messed up. He messed up, dragging them into this, for thinking they ever could have outwit Warden.

They were just kids, trying to play a grown-up game. Now they’ve lost.

“I knew everything, I know everything, and I will always know everything that happens within my walls,” Warden says, hand suddenly drifting to the sword against his hip, grip tightening on its hilt. “And don’t worry, your attempt at escape will not be pointless. I’ll bring your bodies back to the quarters, send a message to any others who are harbouring any similar ideas.”

At this he raises a hand, snapping his fingers before pointing forward, clearly a non-verbal command as the rest of the wardens begin to move behind him, creeping towards them slowly. Warden stands tall, gaze darting between the three of them, sharp and analytical.

It’s not until now that Wooyoung truly acknowledges how powerful he seems. Aside from his hatred toward the horrible cruelty of the man, he radiates an undeniable sense of command. Wooyoung wonders what his place used to be within the king's army, perhaps a lieutenant or even a captain. He wonders why he left, how he ended up here.

It doesn’t really matter, he’ll never have the chance to find out.

The wardens each unsheath their sword, and Wooyoung finds himself taking a step back. He’s entirely useless, no weapons or magic of his own to fight with. They tried to take a sword from one of the guards, but considering it both weighed a ton and none of them knew how to wield it, it seemed redundant.

Now he wishes they did, at least then he’d have the illusion of being able to defend himself. Maybe he was wrong for getting annoyed at Yeonjun for always feeling the need to protect him, because as of now, he needs it.

Winter raises a shaky hand, attached to the arm that is not currently impelled. Taking a closer look, it doesn’t seem too bad. Well, not exactly. It looks horrible, the arrow sticking out from the edge of her shoulder, but it doesn’t appear to be fatal, as even the amount of blood is limited.

Wooyoung wants nothing more than to rush over to her and check if she’s okay, but something tells him any sudden movements are only going to set the warden’s quicker in motion.

Yeonjun, fortunately, doesn’t have to move much to begin causing damage. Bringing both hands up from his side, he summons a ball of flame in one, before using the other to blow a gust of wind behind it. A sort of make-shift flamethrower, a few wardens take a step back from the flame, as it spreads in a thick line before them.

Meanwhile, although Winter’s abilities are limited due to only having one hand, she begins to use her water affinity to its advantage. The snow around them begins to lift, like a massive white blanket flying above the ground, floating upwards until it hovers at eye-level. Then she clenches her fist, and it all rushes towards them, like a terrifying blizzard limited to only a few seconds.

And Yeonjun does not waste a single one of them.

When he approaches the wardens, it’s like a gust of wind whirling between buildings, sharply twisting and turning with a grace that could only be gifted by the god of the air. When he strikes a warden, it’s less with his fist, and more the gust of wind emitted from it, causing them to fly backwards as if thrown by something far stronger.

Blinded by Winter’s blizzard, the wardens are terribly thrown off, and Yeonjun handles them with ease. They drop like flies, or better, dominos that tumble down one after the other.

It strikes Wooyoung in this moment just how powerful they are. Not him, obviously, but Yeonjun and Winter. The elemental children, just two of them able to take down a dozen armed soldiers. Even if he hates the Libaiyan King for his lack of humanity, he can understand his desperation to cultivate an army from them. Even if there are only a few as powerful as Yeonjun, that is all it would take to create a force that is incredibly dangerous. Indestructible.

Warden stands amidst the center of them, neck twisting back and forth as watches his comrades drop around him. He’s clearly surprised, ego too big to have anticipated his entire force being taken down by two kids, even if elementals. Wooyoung can’t fully blame him though, Yeonjun has never gone full out in the Assessment Day duels, he’s never had to.

Warden crouches down, so that he stands stable on bent knees, likely to improve his balance as well as steady himself to the ground. It surprises Wooyoung as Warden slips his sword back into his sheath, instead opting to hold both hands out in front of him, watching as Yeonjun darts around them.

It all makes sense, however, as in the blink of an eye the warden swings, his fist making perfectly-timed contact with Yeonjun’s jaw. The strength of the punch is multiplied greatly by the speed at which he was traveling, and the elemental stumbles backwards. Tripping over his feet as he doesn’t manage to withhold his balance, he falls backwards into the snow.

However, what surprises Wooyoung is the sharp “crack” that follows Yeonjun’s head hitting the ground.

There’s a thick moment of silence as everything seems to stop moving. Minutes pass by, but to Wooyoung it feels more like hours. Even Warden remains still, hand having drifted back down to his sword’s sheath, although he doesn’t remove it. They all watch as they wait for Yeonjun to either let out a pained groan or miraculously rise to his feet.

Neither happens, and Wooyoung’s feet are in motion before he can even contemplate the safety of rushing closer towards the wardens.

None of them move to attack him, perhaps equally as curious as he rushes to Yeonjun’s side. The boy lays on his back, head tilted to face away from Wooyoung. Wooyoung can now see that his head had landed on a rock, neck tilted at an odd angle as he’s almost lifted up from the rest of his body.

“Jun,” Wooyoung says, giving his shoulder a small shake. Yeonjun doesn’t respond. “Jun?” He says again, this time with more uncertainty.

Shaky hands extending outwards, he gently takes Yeonjun’s chin in his, tilting his head over to face him.

Wooyoung wishes that he hadn’t.

Yeonjun looks at him, except that he doesn’t. His eyes are open, but they show no recognition. Well, not only a lack of recognition, but a lack of thought. They’re completely empty, and Wooyoung feels his heart sink, dropping into his stomach as his entire body freezes, throat seizing.

“Jun?” He says again, hoarse through the way his throat closes, unable to get a real breath in. Shaking him a little harder, his body moves with Wooyoung’s touch, putting up no sort of protest, like a doll being jostled back and forth. “Jun!”

Wooyoung lifts his head up in both hands, and that’s when he feels the blood. Hot and thick all over his fingers, as well as the rock and snow beneath him, its metallic stench floods his nose. Despite the way it repulses him, he can’t bring himself to let go, Yeonjun’s head almost vibrating as he clenches it within his shaky hands.

Leaning forward, he connects his lips with the boy's own, hoping that somehow it may breathe life back into him. That the gods may see two of their supposed “gifted” suffering, and grant them a second chance. A chance to live outside of the walls of the orphanage, as something other than a machine created for slaughter. To go to a real school, to eat a real meal. To love one another freely.

Instead, Yeonjun’s lips are cold and stiff. They do not move to accept his own.

Wooyoung pulls away, staring down at his best friend’s cold face, and he can’t bring himself to look away. They are too young for this. He is too young to feel this loss. Yeonjun is too young to be dying. To be dead.

Wooyoung clutches him tightly, trying to take in the last remnants of warmth within Yeonjun’s skin before the cold robs it from him completely. Just a moment ago he’d been breathing. He’d been thriving, mastering the winds and commanding the earth. Yeonjun was impenetrable, and yet in just a matter of seconds, he’d been taken from him. A cruel twist of fate.

Wooyoung’s grief tears through him, like lightning rushing through his veins and erupting from his mouth in the form of a scream. A lament of anger, of fury and anguish and loss. His eyes scrunch shut, tears simultaneously welling and falling, dripping down onto Yeonjun’s face.

He wants to hurt them. He wants vengeance, thirsts for it. He wants the wardens surrounding him to feel the same suffering as he does now.

He wants them to die.

With his agony the forest around them erupts into flame.

When Wooyoung awakens, he is facing the sky. Eyes bleary, he blinks a few times, only then recognizing the blackness above him as the night, it’s face freckled with stars. His body feels sore, head fuzzy, and he struggles to sit himself upwards, muscles aching in protest.

However, his mind comes rushing back to him when he catches sight of the forest around him. Or well, what was the forest.

The once snowy landscape has been transformed into a barren waste-land. The grass which hadn’t been visible for months is now painted a stark black, the trees horribly chared as smoke wafts up from the few closest to him, obviously dead. The underbrush of the forest no longer exists, all the previous bushes and shrubs the wardens had been hiding behind reduced to piles of soot and ash.

The wardens. They fare no better, their bodies scattered in what is an almost perfect semi-circle. Their armour remains in-tact, although it glows in a fearsome molten hugh, the smell of burnt flesh hanging thick in the air. They were fried from the inside, trapped by the very armour sworn to protect them.

Wooyoung swallows hard. Did he… did he do this?

He must have, and yet it doesn’t feel possible. Trying to ignore the sickening feeling that pools within his stomach, he shakily rises to his feet, before hearing the sound of crying in the distance. It’s familiar, and he quickly recognizes it to be Winter.

Heading towards the noise, he sees her nestled by a tree, clutching onto something as she sobs. Walking past the fallen bodies of the wardens, he startles as something grabs onto his ankle, pulling him down. He stumbles but manages not to fall, whirling his head around to find Warden laid out on the ground.

Warden looks up at him, and the area around his eyes is seared, the remnants of his skin a bright and awful shade of red, accompanied by sickening blisters bulging with yellow puss.

Although even amidst the damage, his eyes remain intact, those inhuman blue bulbs staring back at Wooyoung, almost through him. Warden doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to.

Then his eyes dull, and Wooyoung knows that he is dead.

Despite himself, he kneels down, reaching forward for Warden’s mask. It sears Wooyoung’s hands as he grabs it, skin practically sizzling, but he forces himself to endure it. Riggling it from the man’s head, he haphazardly discards it onto the grass.

Warden’s face is badly burnt. Not as horrifically so as his eyes, which had directly been touched by the flames, but enough that his skin swells. Cheeks and chin puffy, all painted that same blazing red hue.

Even so, Wooyoung can somewhat tell what he looked like. Not if he was handsome or fearsome or princely, but at the very least, he can decipher that he was young. With a defined jawline but full cheeks, as well as tight rather than wrinkled skin. Very young, likely having just reached his second decade.

It makes Wooyoung feel ill, bile rising thick in the back of throat. He swallows it down, forcing his gaze away from Warden and back onto his feet. He does not let himself look back.

When he reaches Winter, he rests himself down beside her. She sits atop her knees, fists clenched tightly around the fabric of Yeonjun’s shirt, who she has laid against the tree before her. Wooyoung can’t read her expression, as it’s covered by a tangled curtain of black hair that hangs over her face, but he imagines it as sorrowful as he feels. The arrowhead is still embedded in her shoulder, but the staff has been burnt off. She seems alright otherwise, having her own ability to have protected herself from the flames, which grants Wooyoung immense relief.

However, when Wooyoung’s gaze drifts from Winter to Yeonjun, he chokes on his own breath.

Yeonjun’s face is perfectly visible, although completely unrecognizable. Wooyoung wouldn’t even have known it was him had he not witnessed everything that had happened. Yeonjun’s eyes are now shut, so swollen it appears that they’d almost been sewn that way. His skin bubbles in that same sickening fashion, and his grey slacks are completely scolded, the mere remnants being what Winter currently clutches within her fists. All of his hair is gone, the skin of his head bare and equally as blistered.

Wooyoung turns his face away from both Yeonjun and Winter. This time he actually does vomit, both from the harrowing sight as well as the revulsion towards his own actions.

“You did this,” Winter whispers, so quietly that Wooyoung can barely hear her.

“I know,” he replies, voice shaky. Running both hands through his hair he attempts to steady himself, but he feels the panic rising hot in his throat, rattling around in his head. “I-I didn’t mean to, I don’t even know how-”

“No,” Winter cuts him off, shaking her head back and forth. “I mean everything. All of this is your fault.”

“Winter…”

“Yeonjun never wanted to go,” she says, the words spoken through a sudden sob that blubbers her words. “He knew it was a horrible idea, but he said he couldn’t let you do it alone.”

“I-I didn’t…” He begins again, only to find he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to defend himself, because surely he cannot be blamed for all of this. For Yeonjun’s death, for the bodies that surround them, for the thick stench of death and burnt flesh that hangs in the air.

But in the end, who is left alive but him?

Only Winter, who wanted nothing to do with this. Who had begged them not to go through with it, who knew they’d never succeed and that it would only bring them trouble.

He should have listened to her, when earlier tonight she asked them to go back. He should have listened to Yeonjun when he told him it was a terrible idea a myriad of times these last few months.

He should have listened to Warden, who knew that he was useless before anyone else.

“He loved you,” she says quietly, grip tightening against the remnants of his shirt. She shakes her head, letting out another sob, although she clearly tries to withhold it for the sake of her anger. “We both loved you, and this is what we get for it?”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whispers, and he is crying too. Tears streaming down his face, he places a hand on Winter’s shoulder, attempting to comfort her. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn't shove him away, but doesn’t accept the gesture either. Wooyoung remembers the time a few of the older boys tore up her doll - the one thing she had left of her parents - a few years back. Wooyoung held her as she cried for hours, while Yeonjun went out into the training yard and beat the shit out of them.

That’s how it had always been, the three of them. They were each other's family, all they had. Now Yeonjun is gone, and Winter stiffens at his hand on her shoulder, as if he were nothing more than a stranger, or even an enemy.

“Get out of here, Wooyoung,” she whispers.

“What?” He asks, confused.

“Get out of here!” She repeats, and this time it is in the form of a scream. Shoving his hand from her shoulder, she finally turns to face him, and when she does Wooyoung lets out an involuntary gasp.

Her skin is also burnt and blistered. Not as horrifically as Yeonjun’s and the wardens, but enough so that her pale complexion burns red, skin peeling around her cheeks. Her hands are also burnt, and now that he looks closer, he can see that her own grey slacks are spotted with blackened holes.

Winter had never excelled with controlling fire.

“I don’t want to see you again,” she whispers, pursing her lips together to withhold another sob. “Never come back here.”

He knows he shouldn’t say anything, that he should just leave, but he can’t help himself. Worry for her turns and twists within his gut. “Winter, you aren’t going back there are you-”

“It’s none of your business whether I stay or go!” She answers. Her eyes linger on his for a dreaded silent moment. It’s only seconds, but for Wooyoung it feels like days. It’s a moment he’ll replay in his mind in the years to come, in the dead of the night, those dark eyes bearing into his own with a wretched misery.

It’s the moment she gave up on him. The moment she stopped loving him.

“I hate you,” she whispers, finally looking away. Her gaze turns back to Yeonjun, and she pulls the remnants of his shirt upwards, burying her face in it. It’s covered in ash, but she doesn’t seem to care. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” she mutters through her sniffles and sobs.

Wooyoung feels numb. Forcing himself to rise from his knees and back onto his feet, he gets one last look of Winter clutching onto Yeonjun’s destroyed body. The two people he loves more than anything, destroyed by his own hubris, by his own stupidity. For what may be the first and only time in his life, he mutters a prayer beneath his breath, hoping that at least one of the gods may hear him. That they’ll watch over Winter, now that he and Yeonjun cannot.

Then he walks. He walks down the forest trail, even as the smoke that hangs in the air burns his eyes and stings his nostrils, even as Winter’s sobs fade away and are replaced by the sound of wind gently rustling through the forest trees. Even as a village appears before him, the only populated place that Wooyoung has seen outside the orphanage in almost a decade.

“Gloria” the sign outside of the town reads in thick bold lettering.

Wooyoung heads inside.

There’s a dense moment of silence that follows after Woo finishes speaking. You aren’t sure what to say, and perhaps he thinks that’s due to the horrors that he has told you, the shock of what he’d been through. What does a person say after someone tells them they’ve experienced something so dreadful?

Which is partially true, yes. Your heart aches for him, in a way you never could have anticipated towards the elemental, but that is not what renders you speechless.

It’s that the source of his terror, the founder of the orphanage and the employer of Warden, the one searching to create this “new army” of elementals… was your father.

Your head swims at the thought. Why would he want to do that? How could he do something so monstrous, so inhumanely cruel? When did he arrange this, and how could you possibly not know about it?

It’s insane, and it makes you want to almost not believe the elemental. It seems impossible that your kingdom - your family - could do something so horrifically elaborate and you be completely unaware.

But you do believe him. Despite how you don’t want to, despite the image of how kind your father had been during the earlier years of your childhood, it doesn’t strike you as impossible that he would do something like this. It doesn’t even strike you as dubious, which makes your stomach turn in disgust.

“So yeah,” Woo starts, albeit a bit awkwardly. “If you ever feel bad for killing one monster, remember that I killed a dozen men.”

“You didn’t mean to,” you offer. “Not really.”

He shakes his head. “No. But I’d do it again if I had the choice,” he says, voice soft, reminiscent. He looks up at the sky, at the smoke wafting from the fire and up towards the stars. “I think I’m supposed to regret it, that it should eat me up inside and keep me awake at night or something. It doesn’t. They deserved it.”

You pause on this. You don’t judge him, in fact, you understand. You also think they deserved it. Still, you don’t quite believe him. “But you’re awake tonight.”

“Not really because of them,” he says quietly, the very corners of his lips curving upwards into a small, sad smile. “Because of Yeonjun and Winter. What happened to them, it’s my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known what would happen,” you reason, and it’s true. Woo shouldn’t blame himself, there’s no way he could have anticipated something that horrific. Yeonjun’s death was a freak accident, an unlucky fall.

“No, but I think I always knew it wouldn’t end well,” Woo says, and for a split second you think you see his eyes glisten, reflecting brightly in the light of the fire. “Even if I wanted to think we could do it, a part of me knew it wouldn’t work. That little bit of cynicism that those orphanages beat into you, it’s that same part of my friends that tried to convince me not to go through with it. Deep down I knew it wouldn’t work, that they would stop us, but I still dragged them along with me. I just wanted to be able to say I tried.”

Woo laughs to himself, a sad sound. He blinks, and the glistening of his eyes exits in the form of a single tear, sliding down his cheek. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

“Well, I tried,” he says, voice plain. “But I’ll never escape it. It will never leave me.”

The silence that follows is thick. Dense, difficult to wade through. “I’m sorry,” you say, and it sounds lame. Feeble.

Woo does not treat it as such. “Thanks,” he says, before finally looking away from the sky to meet your eyes. His expression is surprisingly gentle. “I’m sorry you had to kill something, but I’m far more sorry that you feel guilty for it. Guilt is the heaviest thing for a person to carry.”

If only he knew how guilty you really are.

“My real name’s Wooyoung,” he says softly. It’s a surprise to you, as neither San nor Seonghwa have mentioned it before. “I don’t let anyone call me that anymore. I can’t stand it. Can only hear it in their voices.”

You nod and he sighs. Pursing his lips, he gives you a small nod, before turning his gaze back to the fire. He appears done with the conversation, but you aren’t, not quite yet.

“San and Seonghwa,” you start, hesitant. “Do they know?”

Woo smiles. “No, not really. I’ve never told Seonghwa about any of it. San knows about the orphanage, and he knows about Yeonjun and Winter, but nothing of what happened to them.”

Your chest tightens at that. “Why don’t you tell them?”

Woo laughs, as if something about what you said is funny. “Because,” he begins, looking back over at you, as if the answer is obvious. When you don’t respond, he sighs. “If I tell them, Seonghwa is going to get that look on his face that says: ‘I need to fix this’, and then offer to take some of the pain himself. Which is bound to piss me off, because why the fuck would I want him to feel this too?”

“And San…” He continues, trailing off. Clenching his hands in and out, he seems almost pained, and the fire twists and sparks with his struggle. “He’ll look at me like I’m broken. He’ll treat me like I’m going to shatter. I just… I don’t think I could handle that.”

You frown, but you get it. Woo has a lot of pride, has acted as if he’s indestructible since the moment you met him. This is the first time he’s told you anything otherwise.

Yet, while he may expect that to make you pity him, it only makes you respect him far more than you ever had.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think San will treat you any different.”

Woo almost chuckles, a brief laugh through his nose. “No, you will not treat me any different. San will.”

You aren’t sure if you agree with that, but Woo seems set on it, so you don’t bother convincing him otherwise.

“You can’t tell him. Either of them,” he says suddenly, casting you a wary expression. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at the statement. Not out of disbelief, but how incredibly certain you are that he would. “I didn’t plan on it.”

He smiles at this, chuckling himself. Then he pauses, something different wedging its way into his gaze, clearly pondering something. Glancing up from the fire, he holds your own eyes, then swallows.

“Turn around,” he says quietly, and you stop yourself from physically recoiling. Your lack of enthusiasm towards the statement must read blatantly on your face, because he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not going to choke you out or anything,” he says, tone irritated. “Just humour me for a second and turn around.”

“Alright,” you say, hesitant. Had it been any other night, you would have laughed in his face, but tonight he has been vulnerable, perhaps you can return even an ounce of the same. Turning around, you face away from him and into the dark of the forest. As a moment of silence passes, you consider the fact that if he wanted to, now would be the perfect opportunity to slit your throat, make sure you really never do tell San or Seonghwa.

Instead, you feel as he shifts your hair away from the back of your neck, and the touch is surprisingly tender. Stretching his other arm forward and in front of your face, you suddenly feel something cool against your throat. Not a knife, but a necklace.

Your heart stalls for a moment, the chain familiar, the exact size of the diamond against your collarbone something you could never forget.

It’s not just any necklace, but your necklace. The one your parents had given to you as a child, the one he’d taken from you back at the cottage as collateral.

Feeling as he clasps it shut, you’re quick to whirl around to face him, granting him an expression that exclaims nothing less than: “What the fuck?”

“Don’t look too surprised, Kuroken,” he says, and when you raise an eyebrow, he laughs.

“Okay, listen,” he begins, tone suddenly serious. “When I first met you, I thought you were a spoiled brat. I thought your entire story was shady, and maybe didn’t quite believe that the King of Libaiya had really died. That he could really die. I didn’t trust you.”

He reaches out, fixing the diamond on your necklace which had been sitting crooked, before continuing.

“But then in Stockholm your story proved to be true. Then in Gloria you risked your life to save San. You saved all of us in The Desert Lotus, because even though it makes me feel sick to admit it, I don’t think I could have done that myself. Then you helped me with the mimic back in the village. Even though you didn’t quite believe that it wasn’t Seonghwa, you chose to help me nonetheless.”

Woo finally takes his hand away from your neck, and it’s accompanied by the smallest of smiles. “You’ve been proving me wrong time and time again, and even though there’s nothing I hate more than admitting defeat, I can say I was wrong about you.”

“Woo-” You begin, because although his words are overflowing with the most kindness the man has ever shown you, you can’t bring yourself to accept them. He wasn’t wrong, you are lying to him, to all of them.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think you’re annoying. Too headstrong, but maybe that’s something we have in common,” he continues, cutting off your protest. “But I was wrong not to trust you, and for giving you such a hard time. I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to speak. To protest, to thank him and accept his apology, to apologize yourself, to say something.

Instead you say nothing, and Woo shifts himself onto his feet. “I’m going to try and fall back asleep. We probably still have a couple hours until the sun rises, you should do the same.”

He begins to make his way towards the tent, before pausing suddenly. Turning back to face you, he appears almost sheepish. “Rest well, Yeji.”

With that he disappears behind the tent flap, leaving you alone in the darkness of the woods. The fire begins to falter, no longer being stoked by Woo’s gift and now struggling due to the absence of logs. It makes the light breeze feel infinitely cooler, and you shudder, clinging to the woolen blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

‘Yeji’ he’d called you. A testament to his newly placed trust, to burying the hatchet. To putting aside all the little jabs in your direction, the constant disapproval, the endless belittlement.

It’s only until now you realize that you don’t want him to. You don’t want him to stop being cruel, to stop distrusting you and making snide comments that make you want to wring his neck. After all, they’ve made it easier to lie to him.

Yeji, Woo had called you. Or better, Wooyoung had called you. After confiding in you, after granting you a piece of his most authentic self, one that he’s never shared with anyone else. A piece only you hold.

His reward for such vulnerability? A horrible betrayal that will prove he was right about you to begin with.

The fire finally dies, its last burning flame shriveling into smoke and ash. You should go to the tent, the night is far too dark and the wind's bite is far too cold, but you can’t bring yourself to move. Your legs are like lead, shoulders weighed down as if bricks sit upon them, and it leaves you unable to stand.

Woo is right, guilt really is the heaviest thing a person can carry.

~~~~~~~~~

next chapter.

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