悠久星涼

18+ content will be indicated on fics with mature content, minors do not interact

hongjoong • under covers — undercover cop x street racer • the fool's heart — royalty!matz x princess love triangle • keep quiet — frat & sorority president au • last words — prince x princess, arranged marriage

seonghwa • coming undone — jealous seonghwa x reader • stolen devotion — assassin x sorceress • hands on — street racer au ft. nepo baby!hwa • the fool's heart — royalty!matz x princess love triangle • take a seat — frat boy!seonghwa with benefits • poor connection — ice hockey player!seonghwa, long-distance au

yunho • ruin me — forbidden noble x princess au • before the fall — dystopian au, star-crossed lovers • nice guy — street racer au, childhood friends to lovers • hush money — frat boy!yunho • routine checkup — ice hockey player!yunho • mask off (+ part two) — spiderman!yunho

yeosang • cherry blossom — street racer au ft. sub!yeo • missed signals — frat boy!yeo friends to lovers • head shot — ice hockey player!yeosang, friends to lovers

san • hard drive — street racer au, friends with benefits • in for it — frat boy!san • sucker punch — ice hockey player!san • a gilded cage — artist!san x princess!reader, forbidden love

mingi • pink slip — street racer au, rivals with benefits • face time — frat boy!mingi with commitment issues

wooyoung • speed dial — street racer au, exes to lovers • princess treatment — frat boy!wooyoung

jongho • gear shift — street racer au, enemies to lovers • end of the year — frat boy!jongho

hongjoong

when you asked hongjoong to teach you how to dj, you didn’t expect to be thrown into a sound engineering crash course.

“so, you’re gonna want to make sure the bpms and the keys are both in sync,” he instructs you as he messes with the settings on his laptop before moving to the turntable console between you. “the camelot wheel can be helpful when you’re starting out to transition between songs.”

“the who?” you squint at him, growing increasingly frustrated as you try to follow along with his complex guidance. hongjoong looks up at you, a smirk etched across his features as he beckons you over.

“c’mere.” you follow his lead, allowing him to place his hand over yours as he guides you through a demonstration of operating the turntable. you watch carefully and listen as the speakers move smoothly from one rnb song into another. “see?”

only when you turn up to look at him do you realize just how close he was. his grip over your hand tenses slightly when he meets your gaze, something darkening in his eyes as he swallows. you part your lips to speak when he clears his throat and takes a step back.

“did … did you have any other questions?” he asks, his gaze flickering to your lips for a split second that you’re sure he doesn’t realize you notice. it was no secret that you and hongjoong had been dancing around the will-they, won’t-they of your relationship for months and you were starting to hit your limit with how patient you could continue to be.

“uh, yeah, actually,” you say, crossing your arms over your torso. “could you actually show me how to record and upload samples to use in mixes?”

“oh—! sure thing,” hongjoong answers with disappointment evident on his face as he shifts his focus back to the laptop. “do you want to send them over to me after so i can give you feedback?”

“i sure do.”

the next weekend, hongjoong is sat at his own desk in his dorm as he sifts through another mix for a campus event he was recruited to work on music for. he brushes a hand through his hair, sorting through files when a notification pops up from you with an audio file attached.

you: heyyy you: just got done messing with this, lmk what u think you: [1 attachment: audio file]

a smile tugs at his lips as he sets his headphones over his ears. he had been enjoying teaching you about one of his favorite hobbies, especially considering it gave him an excuse to spend more time with you. it impressed him how much of a fast learner you were, especially—

“fuck, hongjoong.”

hongjoong triple checks that his headphones were connected as he glances around his otherwise empty dorm. the sound of you whimpering fills his ears as he stares blankly at his screen, watching the timer on the audio file creep ever-so slowly. he shifts in his armchair with his fingers tightening around the handles as he feels a familiar heat rising beneath his skin and between his legs.

the sound of you nearly approaching your climax urges him to finally slam on the pause button before reaching for his phone to thumb a quick message to you.

hongjoong: you need to come over. now

seonghwa

“you’re distracting me.”

“i wouldn’t call this distracting.”

“i would.”

seonghwa peers up at you from where he sat cross-legged on his dorm room floor, nudging the frame of his rimless glasses further up the bridge of his nose. an assortment of plastic bricks surround him, neatly organized into piles by colors and shapes. the manual for assembling his latest starship is open in front of him detailing the next several steps to follow. even after several months of knowing him, it still astonished you that the campus-feared teacher’s assistant was a violently passionate lego enthusiast that spent his nights like this.

that is, when he didn’t have you bent over the edge of his bed while he fucked you senseless.

like many nights in the past, he sat on the floor fixated on his latest passion project while you observed him quietly from the comfort of his bed. there was something undeniably attractive about watching him as he worked. the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms flexing with every brick perched between his fingertips. you spent these nights ogling him while he couldn’t spare you so much as a passing glance with his attention zeroed in on his legos.

he lets out something akin to a chuckle, the corner of his mouth upturned as he finally allows himself to glance back up at you. his eyes darken, at least for a split second, as he takes in the little black number you’d chosen to wear for the night. the lace lingerie clung to all of the right places, your thighs crossed over one another as you prop your head up in your palm.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you tease, sliding off of the sheets and onto the cool tile floors so that you could drape your arms over his shoulders. seonghwa works to remain unfazed as he fishes for another row of bricks but you feel the way his pulse quickens when your palms come to rest over his chest.

“baby,” he mutters in protest, rereading the instructions in front of him as his focus begins to falter.

“hm?” you draw long, languid strokes over his torso with your lips pressed to the shell of his ear.

“baby,” he repeats, his voice stern in warning this time. your gaze flickers down to where the legos clatter to the ground in front of him as they slip from his fingers.

“keep going,” you urge him, “i just wanted to get a closer look.”

“no, you just want to torture me,” he retorts, picking up the pieces where he’d left off and quickly losing focus as he flips to the next page.

“well, is it working?”

“no.”

“okay,” you say suddenly as you release him and move to stand back up onto your feet. seonghwa glances over his shoulder at you, his expression unreadable until you feel his fingers close around your wrist to tug you back into his lap.

“i guess i could use a break,” he hums, wrapping broad arms around your waist as you lean into him with a triumphant smile.

yunho

“i can’t believe you guys are missing spring break at the beach to go to comic-con,” you call out to your boyfriend as he hurries around the room to pack his suitcase. he fishes through his closet for the various accessories to his spider-suit. you don’t know why you’d even questioned who he’d want to dress up as, considering he was easily the biggest marvel fan you’d ever met.

“it’s not my fault that it falls on the same week!” he protests, still fixated on collecting his things. “this might be the last chance we get to see the full cast together on a panel.”

“oh, the agony,” you tease, raising your hands in surrender when he turns to pout at you. “i’m kidding! it’ll be fun. make sure to take plenty of pictures. i’m still mad you won’t let me see the costume you put together.”

“it has to be a surprise,” yunho scolds, leaning over to his bed where you lay to press a chaste kiss to your lips. and a surprise, it was.

the second you opened yunho’s instagram stories from comic-con, the last thing you were focused on was the party surrounding you while you lay on the sand with a drink in hand. when he said he was planning to go as spiderman, you expected a halloween-quality costume. he’d spent so much time focusing on studying for midterms and getting ahead on his thesis research that you assumed he had no time for anything else.

your thumb remains pressed to your phone screen as you take in every last stitch of his costume. the way the red and blue fabric clung to his muscles, his hair tousled and falling over his eyes as he smiles at his reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror. his large hands were covered with the webbed material, curled around the edges of his phone.

after that, you could barely focus on enjoying your spring break. days at the pool or nights at the bar were interrupted every time you got a notification from yunho’s account. one minute it was a video of him perched on the hotel rooftop, dangling from a light pole, the next was another onslaught of mirror selfies with his friends that had joined him in their own superhero costumes.

in the years you’d known him, not once had you ever entertained the thought of what it would be like to hook up with him as a superhero alter ego. then again, there was a first time for everything.

you’re fast asleep in your dorm when you hear a soft knock at the door, one that barely stirs you awake as you shove the sheets aside and welcome in a jet-lagged yunho.

“hi, baby,” you mumble sleepily when he pulls you into a tight embrace. his familiar scent comforts you, the weight of his body on yours warm. “how was it?”

“insane,” yunho answers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away just enough to meet your gaze. you recognize the look in his eyes immediately and arch a brow as he lowers his hands to your waist with a squeeze. “but, we can talk about it tomorrow. right now, there’s only one thing i really, really want.”

“oh?” you feign ignorance, tracing your nails over the nape of his neck and smiling when he shudders slightly. “and what’s that?”

“well,” yunho says as he presses a kiss just below your jaw, “i really want to show my girlfriend how much i missed her.”

“on one condition,” you reply, startling him as he looks back up at you in confusion. “the suit stays on.”

“the suit?”

“i need the friendly neighborhood spiderman to show me how much he missed me, too.”

yunho grins, already reaching for his luggage. “the suit stays on, then.”

yeosang

“you want to start streaming?”

yeosang stares back at you, partly without a thought and partly from the anticipation of your reaction. you glance between him and the onslaught of equipment he’d picked up at the department store—a mic, a new webcam, memory cards. everything was splayed across his desk that he’d often use for gaming instead of the assignments he needed to get done.

“i—” you stop yourself, thinking hard before you answer him. on one hand, your boyfriend was a naturally shy person that you couldn’t imagine being thrown into the pressure of becoming a popular web streamer. on the other, you knew he was the type that wouldn’t back down from the opportunity to become the best at yet another hobby. you finally sigh and mirror his smile. “i think it’s a great idea.”

“you do?” the elation that spreads across his face is unmistakable as he begins to fidget with the devices on his desk. he begins to ramble, much to your amusement as you settle onto his bed and observe him quietly. “oh, it’ll be so much fun. i can stream league and then when there’s competitions, i can do, like, maybe you can join, too! we can …”

it’d been at least a year since yeosang had introduced the idea of streaming to you. what was once considered a nerdy little hobby of his had become a near-full-time job in addition to your classes. truthfully, you had expected him to grow tired of managing a streaming account and move onto the next hobby. but, it consumed him and he became increasingly focused on it. almost, too focused.

it was to your misfortune that he was able to hit five hundred-thousand subscribers when you were planning to celebrate your third anniversary together. as much as you wanted to focus on spending time together—alone—you knew this was a huge deal for him and that it was a balancing act.

“why don’t you stream for a little and then we can head out for the night?” you suggest.

“are you sure? i’m totally fine with postponing and doing something over the weekend—”

“no, no,” you scold, a mischievous glint in your eyes when he tries to reason with you. “i insist.”

“thank you all so much for the support.” yeosang beams at the webcam later that night as celebratory comments flood the chat. “i couldn’t—hah—it means a lot.” he bites back a groan with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, his hand gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles turn white. “i have tons of new content—ngh—planned for the rest of the season.”

you try not to laugh from beneath the desk—although, it’d likely be impossible with your mouth occupied otherwise.

“huh?” he struggles to focus on the comments asking if he was alright. “oh—! yeah, yeah, i’ve never—ah—never been better.” you feel the way his thighs tense beneath your palms, a clear sign that he was close. he lets out a long exhale before he rushes to bid farewell to his viewers. “okay, i’ll see you all this weekend when the new skins drop, bye.”

the computer shuts off and yeosang shifts his chair away from the desk, bringing you with him until he guides you to your feet and onto his lap. he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, his lips parted as he fights to catch his breath.

“you’re evil,” he scolds, forcing a smile out of you.

“i know.”

san

“i really need to rehearse these lines,” san grumbles as he flips through the script in his lap. he’d spent hours scouring through the material, his eyes dry and burning from staring at the words beneath the fluorescents. you had graciously agreed to listen and provide feedback—although, you weren’t sure how helpful you’d be considering you weren’t the one involved in theater on campus—while running through one of your assignments.

“you’ve sounded great so far!” you call out to him from one of the audience seats. he looks over from the stage, his face contorted into a near-permanent pout before he looks back down at the script. “c’mon, would it help if i helped you out?”

“maybe,” he replies, finally looking over to you. he gestures for you to join him on stage and points you in the direction of the extra scripts as you scale the stairs. you follow his instructions and turn to the pages he was reading off of, nearly stopping in your tracks when you see the scene he’s rehearsing.

“okay,” san sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders before standing across from you with his own script in hand. “ready?”

“uh,” you swallow, struggling to hold his gaze, “sure.”

you’d long been attracted to san, even since freshman year when you had orientation seminars together. by some stroke of luck, you became inseparable—something you found solace in, until you began looking at him differently against your will and noticing every last detail about him. the way his body flexed when he acted, the way his eyes disappeared when he’d smile.

“hello?” san waves his hand in front of your face with a laugh. “help me out here!”

“sorry, sorry,” you blurt out, shaking your head before taking a deep breath to prepare.

“past the point of no return,” san begins, his voice dipping lower as he slips into character. you hold his gaze and try to ignore the way your heart races at the sudden shift. “no backward glances.”

he takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “the games we’ve played until now are at an end.”

you swallow dryly, your eyes darting onto the page for your line before you return to him. “past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’.”

“no use resisting.” he lowers his hand to capture your wrist between his fingers and you feel your breath hitch as he draws you in closer. “abandon thought.”

you both lower your scripts entirely, your hand still in his as you notice the way san’s chest begins to shudder with every breath. he averts your eyes, instead focusing on your lips as he purses his with a hum. the auditorium becomes too hot, too quiet as you become painfully aware of how close you are.

“san?” you say his name quietly in question. he doesn’t respond, just reaches for your jaw to brush his thumb across your cheek and tether your gaze to his. the way he looks at you sends a shiver down your spine and your eyes flutter shut as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

the moment he pulls away, the tension between you becomes too heavy to ignore. he looks at you with pupils blown wide and a kind of desperation you hadn’t seen from him before.

“do you, uh … do you want to go back to my place to keep practicing?”

mingi

mingi pulls away from you in an attempt to catch his breath as you peer up at him through your lashes. textbooks are strewn across the dorm room floor, a stack of study guides piled high on his desk that you nearly knock over when he pulls you into his lap in his armchair. you swallow down air and brush the hair falling over your face before adjusting your hoodie.

“we need to get back to studying,” you grumble, finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the way mingi’s large hands caress the small of your back before settling on your waist. he snakes his way back under your hoodie, his fingers tracing soft, slow circles against your skin. “if i don’t do well on this test, i’m fucked.”

“i know.” mingi presses a kiss to your collarbone, shifting his weight in an attempt to quell the sexual frustration churning at his core. “it’s just—it’s a little hard to focus when you look so good.”

“mingi.”

“yes, baby.”

“i’m wearing a hoodie and sweats.”

“so?”

with a scoff, you roll your eyes and swat at him before sliding off of him begrudgingly to return to your study guides. it was a gift and a curse having mingi at your disposal. he was exceptional when it came to organic chemistry, which meant he made the perfect tutor for your weakest class. on the other hand, your little arrangement as friends with benefits meant it occasionally got in the way of your studying.

or, well—frequently.

“okay, let’s make a deal,” mingi says matter-of-factly. “let’s get through the organic reactions pathways and then we can take a break.”

“a break, or a … break?” you ask, arching a brow with a knowing smile in his direction.

“you tell me.” he shrugs, mirroring your expression.

the pair of you are sat across from one another shortly after, cross-legged on his bed as he begins to recite the material to you. he goes into a complex description of molecule structures that you try to follow along as you take notes, your mind quickly wandering when you think about the feeling of his hand on your throat from the night before as he fucked you into the mattress.

mingi snaps in front of your face and you blink rapidly, feigning attention with a dramatic nod. he narrows his eyes at you before pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh and setting aside his laptop.

“i know that look,” he says, folding his arms as he stares back at you.

“what look?” you ask with the most innocent expression you could muster. you pray that your mind stops wandering as you look back down at the notes between you. “i’ve been listening!”

“okay, then repeat what i just said.”

“you were talking about how addition leads to a reduction in saturation.”

mingi blinks in surprise, his mouth slightly ajar as he tries to stop himself from lecturing you to pay attention. “that was right.”

“and i might have been thinking about last night,” you mutter under your breath, barely loud enough for him to catch as he whips his head back up at you.

“oh,” he says, mindlessly scrolling through his notes before he sets aside the laptop and reaches for you with a resigned sigh. “well, come to think of it … we might need to take that break a little early.”

wooyoung

when wooyoung asked you out to go stargazing, you couldn’t imagine anything more romantic. laying beneath the stars beside one another, your head pressed to his chest and the rhythm of his heartbeat while you talked for hours on end. you could see it now—sprawled across a picnic blanket, enjoying one another’s company as you finally have the opportunity to have him all to yourself.

you didn’t anticipate just how much of an astronomy nerd wooyoung was.

“okay, so right up there is the summer triangle,” he informs you, peering through the viewfinder on his telescope as he gestures to the stack of reference books he’d brought along. “there’s three huge stars—vega, deneb, altair—you can’t miss ‘em.”

“i think i see them,” you say, although your eyes are fixated on wooyoung’s every move as his excitement grows from your supposed discovery. he adjusts his glasses and narrows his eyes, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his flannel. you glance up at the sky that was clear aside from scattered stars. he sighs contentedly, sitting back on his haunches.

“thank you for coming along,” he says earnestly, looking over to you with a broad smile. “it’s nice to be able to share this with someone.”

“of course.” you reach over and pat a hand over his, the gesture earning a flush of pink across his cheeks as he clears his throat nervously. “i think it’s cute that you’re so into astrology.”

“astronomy.”

“right.”

“well, i’m a sagittarius, in case you were wondering,” wooyoung replies as he bursts into a fit of laughter at your mistake.

you roll your eyes and shove his chest playfully, missing just enough to lose your balance and topple over onto him. his arms wrap around you instinctively, the scent of his cologne engulfing you as you grip the fabric of his shirt in tight fists. suddenly, the sounds of the night around you grow faint, nothing but your heartbeat thrumming in your ears while your breath escapes you, low and shallow.

“sorry,” you mumble, although neither of you move.

“i don’t mind,” he replies, his voice soft as his grip on your waist tightens ever-so-slightly. his gaze trails over your face, his lips parted as he thinks of something, anything to say in the moment.

“do … do you want to get back to stargazing?” you ask, about to shift your weight off of him when he holds you firmly against him with a renewed glint in his eyes.

“actually,” he says, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen over your face, “why don’t we take a break?”

“oh?” he turns you so that you’re laid back onto the picnic blanket, his arms on either side of you. he looked nothing like the bashful stargazing enthusiast from just seconds before, now staring down at you with a knowing grin threatening to break across his face. you take the opportunity to get under his skin and hook a leg around his waist so that he’s drawn closer to you. “and what did you have in mind?”

“i could think of a few things,” wooyoung hums before you hook a finger around the collar of his shirt and pull him into a kiss.

jongho

you had no idea what you were in for when you asked jongho out.

he always kept to himself; never stayed back when class ended, didn't seem to have much of a relationship with the other students. something about him intrigued you that you couldn't put your finger on. he seemed like he would be sweet under that rigid exterior and somehow it became your personal mission to uncover his personality, whether he liked it or not.

"hey, do you think you can help me out after class with this assignment?" you'd ask.

"sorry, i have somewhere to be," he'd answer, shuffling through slides on his laptop without so much as a glance at you. "but let me know how it goes."

"hey, would you be open to helping tutor some of the freshmen that are on track to take this class?"

"i don't think i have time for it," jongho would reply, dry as ever and making your blood boil. "but i think some of the others were mentioning being down to help."

it wasn't until one faithful evening when you somehow got him on the way to his car that you nearly cornered him in the parking lot. that is, if you'd consider flagging him down and running towards him with your heart nearly about to explode a subtle attempt. jongho stared at you through the lenses of his thick-rimmed glasses, his eyebrow arched in question as he observes you trying to catch your breath.

"would—hoo—look," you say, slamming a hand on the roof of his car. he doesn't so much as jolt. "i think you're hot. i don't know why, especially considering you never seem interested in hanging out. but, i do. and i've been trying to hang out with you outside of class and i'm tired of trying to drop subtle hints."

"oh, you weren't subtle," jongho scoffs, something akin to a smile etched across his features.

"funny," you huff as you watch him put away his backpack in his backseat before turning to you.

"i'm actually headed to hang out with some friends. you can join us, if you're free."

"oh, so you do have a life outside of class?" you ask as he rolls his eyes playfully and gestures for you to enter his passenger seat.

the ride to wherever jongho was taking you was silent, save for the baseball podcast he seemed to be intently listening to as he kept both hands on the steering wheel. you scroll through your phone absentmindedly, a small part of you wondering if you were about to be dragged to something that would bore you to death when you thought he might have been more interesting beneath the surface.

boy, were you wrong.

the second he pulls into the parking lot of one of the busier barbecue joints and a group of guys you recognize faintly from across campus holler at his entrance, you realize that he was the complete opposite of what you'd expected. it was as if he was swapped out with a clone, full of life and laughter and eager to accept a round of drinks. he sang at the top of his lungs, cracked jokes like it was nobody's business and downed beer like a forlorn sailor.

“so, you’re jongho’s girl?” one of the guys ask you. his question steers your attention away from the fresh bottle of soju you were about to crack open and you glance in jongho’s direction before answering.

“well, i—”

“yeah,” jongho interjects, “she is.”

“today’s top story, yet another heroic endeavor by spiderman in supporting law enforcement efforts to shut down a lethal drug trafficking ring in the northern borough of the city.”

the news reporter’s voice drowns out beneath the bar patrons’ commentary, meshing with the sound of ice in cocktail shakers and glasses shuffled off of the bar counter. you glance up at the tv screen, a clean dishcloth between your fingers as you wipe down the sticky residue of someone’s espresso martini.

“spiderman is just so cool,” one of the girls in front of you swoons, stirring her drink by its thin, black straw. “i wonder what he looks like.”

“he has to be hot,” her friend chimes in after a sip of her own drink. “you can just tell.”

“oh, brother,” you mutter under your breath, tossing the now-soaked dishcloth into the dirty pile while you reassess your ingredients and look back up at the girls with a feigned smile and a renewed kindness in your tone. “how we doing, ladies? can i get you anything else right now?”

“one of those,” they joke, pointing up at the tv screen. you sigh and glance over your shoulder, the news still plastered with videos of spiderman swinging across rooftops and the blur of blue and red in the night sky. a still image is displayed while the reporters continue to discuss spiderman’s great success, the whites of his mask narrowed into slits at the camera.

your heart sinks like a rock to the pit of your stomach. it had been several weeks since you’d discovered yunho’s secret identity as spiderman. the fact that he’d pushed you away so much to the point that you would break up with him and move halfway across the city. a futile effort, considering he’d landed on your rooftop and snuck his way back into your life, regardless.

ever since you’d found out, your nights were sleepless and you were dying to vent to someone. it was a frustrating situation to be put in, torn between needing sound advice on how to handle your breakup with yunho while respecting him wanting to remain hidden behind spiderman’s mask. it was the only thing you could think about when you weren’t working late nights at one of your local bars.

of course, he just had to ruin that, too.

“why wouldn’t you tell me?” you stare back at him, drawn into a newfound fear for his safety. 

“why would i?” yunho threads a hand through his hair, more exasperated than you’d ever seen him as he finds comfort in staring out of the window instead of you. “for you to become collateral?”

“so, you made the choice for me?” you ask, equally as frustrated. “treating me like garbage and pushing me away made you feel better?”

“it did,” he answers coldly, his eyes narrowed into slits as he glares back at you. “at least i’d know you were safe, even if you hated me.”

you shake the memory from your mind and return your focus to an order for another round of shots for the guys celebrating one of their birthdays in one of the reserved booths.

it’s well past two in the morning by the time you wrap up your closing shift. despite your poor sleep schedule, you were beyond exhausted from tonight’s crowd and were more than ready to take a nice, hot shower and slip into bed. the bar becomes eerily quiet by the time you leave, greeted by the sound of passing cars and drunken groups of friends stumbling to their apartments for the night. your feet ache with every step towards your own place a few blocks down as you fish for your water bottle in your tote bag.

“yo!” a voice calls out from behind you.

closer this time, “hey, slow down!”

a chill runs across your skin as your fingers curl tightly around the straps of your tote and your pace quickens. the sound of footsteps behind your own become louder with every breath you take, the scent of vodka and cheap cologne becoming more evident as you hear the men chuckle behind you. one of them finally catches up to you and falls into your pace, his steps matching yours as a drunken smile stretches across his face. his friends flank you on either side, equally as intoxicated. you quickly recognize them as the group of guys you were serving at the bar and grimace, your eyes glued forward without a word in response.

“what’s wrong, baby?” one of them says sleazily through a slur. “we just want to say hi.”

“i’m good,” you say, clipped as you try to steady your racing heart with a deep inhale.

“c’mon,” another urges as he circles you to stop you in your tracks. “you don’t wanna have a little fun tonight?”

“i said, i’m g—”

you can barely get the words out when a whoosh echoes through the streets and silky, webbed strands envelop the man to your left to yank him backwards. the rest of the guys freeze around you, their eyes wide and lips parted as he’s thrown into a row of trash cans with a resounding clatter. you turn to the noise, your hand already reaching for your pepper spray when a figure emerges from one of the alleyways.

“she said, she’s good,” a low voice warns beneath a deep red and blue suit. you arch a brow at the sight of spiderman and resist the urge to roll your eyes while the men around you cower in fear and dart down one of the adjacent streets.

a heavy silence settles between the two of you. it’s impossible to see yunho’s eyes beneath his mask, but you’re sure that he was staring back at you. the sound of the men stumbling away grows faint and you don’t say a word, not so much as a ‘thank you’ before turning on your heel and returning to your route home.

you feel your blood boil when footsteps remain in sync behind you and curse under your breath.

“go away,” you snap without turning around. he doesn’t answer and continues at a safe distance behind you as you come closer to your apartment. “seriously, go away.”

“why?” he asks, muscles flexing beneath the woven fabric of his suit. you hear the amusement in his voice and it only irritates you more. “can’t a friendly neighborhood spiderman make sure a young lady gets home safely?”

“i didn’t need your help.”

“well, you got it, anyway.”

you give up on trying to send yunho away and focus on getting home. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, there was a sense of comfort knowing he was with you for the rest of the way, especially at such a late hour. he doesn’t say much otherwise, just follows you until you make it to the main doors that lead into your building. you don’t say anything or look at him as you fish for your keys and head up to your apartment.

you’re barely able to make it into your bathroom and have the hot water running when the sound of your fire escape clanging captures your attention. fear creeps back along your skin, evading any logical answer like rats running along the rusted iron or a landing bird. you peer around the edge of the doorframe into the living room and nearly pass away when a male figure is seated on your couch.

“are you out of your fucking mind?” you ask, storming towards yunho with knitted brows.

“hey, i just wanted to check on you.”

“first of all, this is breaking and entering,” you scold, arms folded across your torso. “i’m sure the city police would be thrilled to hear that their golden boy, spiderman, was acting like a criminal.”

“i don’t think i—”

“and second,” you continue, “i’m fine. checking on me is a privilege you lost a long time ago, yunho.”

only then does he reach for the mask and tug it off, the fabric crumpled between his fingers as he looks up at you. he looks exactly as you left him, with hair falling over his big, brown eyes and that same boyish charm that had drawn you to him in the first place. there’s a cut that sears through the corner of his lips, blooming red as the bruise heals.

“you seriously can’t be upset with me for not wanting you to be in danger,” he argues, an edge in his voice you don’t quite recognize.

“you shut me out until i broke up with you,” you correct him, “not to mention, you never bothered to ask me if i cared about you being spiderman. you just assumed i’d get in the way.”

“i never said you’d—”

“i’m not having this conversation again,” you scoff. you don’t spare a passing glance in his direction as you storm towards your bedroom and slam the door behind you. it creaks open seconds later with yunho following you closely.

“so what, you’re just never going to speak to me again?”

“yes!” you cry out in sheer exasperation. “if you’d have never landed on my roof, if you never left your shit in this apartment, i’d have been fine!”

yunho doesn’t answer.

“you’re the one that wanted me to stay away from you.”

“i did.” you blink in surprise as yunho agrees, eerily calm. “and then i landed here. and then you showed up at my place for the first time in what felt like forever. and—” he swallows. “—i still think you need to keep your distance. but, i haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then. i never have, actually.”

you stare at him for a long, drawn-out moment until a dry laugh slips past your lips. “so, what? your plan was to show up with this confession of yours and act like i’d come running back into your arms?” yunho glares at you, taking a step closer so that you could meet his gaze.

“oh, and you’re acting like i’m the only one that feels this way,” yunho counters, arching a brow. “you can be as angry as you want, i know how you really feel.”

“and how do i feel?” you ask as you dig your fingernails into the heel of your palm with a pointed glare up at him. “enlighten me.”

“you’re not mad at me,” he answers, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “you’re mad at the fact that you still want me.”

“i don’t want you,” you answer. you can already tell he’s picked up on how quickly you defended yourself and bite your tongue.

“you don’t want me?” yunho repeats, his smile growing until his voice lowers. “say it again.”

“i don’t want you.” you struggle to keep your voice as steady as you can with yunho closing the distance between you. the scent of his cologne envelops you, even with his suit still on.

“say it again,” he breathes, almost begging as he ghosts his lips over yours. every bone in your body aches to back away, to shut him down right then and there so that he could feel every ounce of hurt he’d left you with over the last few months.

“i don’t—i don’t want you.” you stumble over your words and your eyes flutter shut against your will, your body melting under his touch when he brushes a thumb against your cheek.

“liar,” he groans before biting down on your lower lip and threading his hand through your hair to yank your head back. a strangled gasp slips out of your mouth when his lips trail down to your neck. he breathes against your skin, the tip of his tongue gliding from your collarbone to the shell of your ear before he mutters in an even more strained voice, “say it again.”

your breath dissolves into a muffled whimper as you purse your lips to silence yourself. yunho backs you towards your bed until you’re laid beneath him. with a knee, he pushes your thighs apart and settles between them with a hum before reclaiming your lips in a hungry kiss. just as you’re about to reach for his shoulders, you hear a familiar whoosh and gasp when your wrists are bound to the headboard in one swift motion. yunho leans back onto his haunches, a smug expression etched across his face as he presses a kiss to the inside of one of his wrists.

“seriously?” you flex your wrists beneath their restraints, the silky rope of the spiderwebs wrapped tightly against your skin.

no matter how hard you yanked against them, you were tethered to the bed. you glare at yunho as he pulls at the hem of your shirt until your torso was exposed. you shudder as he trails his hands along your skin before pulling your legs around him. the length of his cock, already rigid, presses against your clothed entrance and you let out an involuntary moan at the sudden friction. yunho twitches in pleasure and bucks his hips against yours to earn another sound from you.

his muscles flex beneath the suit and your hands are itching to glide over every inch of him. irritation fuels the way you thrash against the webs on your wrists as yunho continues grinding against you, his face buried in your neck to stifle his own moans. desperate to regain control, you press your heel into the small of yunho’s back to pin his weight against you.

quick to sense what you’re doing, he stills and stares at you for a moment. his eyes trail over you, the way your chest heaves in an attempt to steady your breathing while you try to bring your thighs back together. with a huff, he hooks a finger around the waist of your pants until they’re tugged off and you’re left in your panties.

before you can say anything, the sound of him shooting webs to tether your ankles to the sheets in a similar fashion to your wrists has you seeing red. yunho seems pleased by the way you become more and more enraged, his smile still fixated on his face as he rubs your thighs with broad hands.

“what’s wrong?” he asks teasingly. the jest is gone from his voice almost immediately, replaced with something darker. “you don’t want me to make you feel good?”

“i don’t care,” you quip, disappointed by the shakiness in your voice. yunho nods once and shifts away from you so that he has enough room to drag his suit down by its collar. he’s able to shove it onto the floor, left only in his boxers before he moves to settle in the armchair beside your bed. “what are you doing?”

“why does it matter?” yunho asks with a devilish glint in his eyes. he lowers a hand to his waist, then the hem of his boxers before he palms himself through the fabric. his mouth falls open, more dramatic than usual so that you were well aware of what you were subjected to staring at. you watch with hungry eyes as he frees his length and wraps his hand around it firmly, pumping long, languid strokes that have him dropping his head back with a sigh.

“yunho.” you say his name sternly, all too aware of the way your limbs were all restricted. you scold yourself mentally for the way heat rushes to your core at the sight of him touching himself while he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. he was undeniably delicious and you were undeniably desperate to feel his touch again. “yunho.”

“yes, baby?” he asks in a breathy voice. he pumps faster, coaxing another moan from his lips as his hips twitch against his hand.

“stop.”

“why?”

your pride gets the better of you as you swallow, growing more and more irritated by the fact that you couldn’t even press your thighs together to satisfy the heat between your legs. yunho recognizes your hesitation and moves his hand faster with a blissful sigh until you let out a frustrated groan.

“stop,” you repeat, feeling the way that color rushes to your cheeks as you avert his gaze. “i want you to fuck me.”

“what was that?” yunho lowers his hand as he readjusts his boxers back over his length and approaches the bed slowly. “couldn’t hear you.”

“i want you to fuck me,” you mutter again beneath your breath, a bit louder this time. he scoffs and settles back between your legs, lowering just enough to whisper against your ear.

“good girl,” he mumbles, his breath hot. “wasn’t so hard to tell the truth, now, was it?”

you whimper when he slides two fingers into your mouth, gliding your tongue over them so that he could move your panties to the side to finger you. you gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching off of the sheets as he falls into a steady rhythm against your walls.

“fuck,” you exhale with your head thrown back against the sheets. the fact that you weren’t able to feel yunho, to drag your nails across his skin and feel the way he tensed under your touch had you near spiraling. you tense your legs against the webs wrapped around your ankles, unable to break free and groaning at the realization.

“easy,” yunho chuckles, adding a third finger inside of you to stretch you out even further. he doesn’t pay attention to the whine that escapes you as he continues, “let me make up for lost time.” his free hand reaches to cup your breast, massaging the soft tissue and sending another jolt of pleasure down your spine.

“ngh—right there,” you mewl when you feel the brush of his knuckles with a curl of his fingers, your stomach in knots as he repeats the motion against your most sensitive spot.

“you like that?” yunho picks up his pace, his eyes locked on yours as his hand continues to roam over your torso while the other fingers you relentlessly. you can feel your breathing become shallow, coming in low, staggered gasps as pleasure rushes to your core quickly enough that your vision blurs. “come for me, baby.”

your orgasm crashes over you as a drawn-out moan drags you across your high. yunho continues to pump his fingers in and out of you until you settle, your chest heaving with every breath until he removes his hand and brings it back to your mouth. you take in each of his fingers covered in your release and whimper against his knuckles as you taste yourself. yunho arches a brow, clearly turned on by the way you looked at him with his fingers stuffed in your mouth.

“god, i need to fuck you,” yunho growls, tugging off his boxers and positioning himself at your entrance without another word. he brushes his tip against your clit, already sensitive and causing you to jerk your hips towards him. with a deep exhale, he sits back onto his haunches and reaches for each of your ankles, tearing through the webbed binds with superhuman strength so that your legs were once again free to move.

you welcome the unexpected freedom, allowing yunho to angle your legs so that they were pushed back to either side of your head against the sheets. you watch as he drinks in every last drop of you with feral eyes fixated on your entrance, dragging the tip of his cock between your folds until he was slick with your wetness. 

“would you just fu—agh!” your protests are cut short when yunho suddenly bottoms out inside of you, his length filling you and stretching against every nerve ending against your walls. you let out a blissful sigh in unison, the feeling of him something you hadn’t realized you were craving for so long.

with a hand pressed to your ankle to deepen his thrusts inside of you, yunho begins to move. his hair is more disheveled than ever, falling over his face as he pants through swollen, parted lips in an attempt to swallow down air. your wrists twitch against the remaining restraints, your own breathing staggered as he fucks you into the mattress.

yunho lowers himself back against your ear, his voice coming out between grunts, “i know you missed this, pretty girl.” he pounds into you harder, the bed creaking against the aged wooden floors. “let me hear it.”

you no longer answer in coherent sentences, caught in a symphony of moans that he mirrors when he presses a forearm against your waist to steady you. his lips meet yours again in a mess of open-mouthed kisses, his tongue entangled with yours as you feel another climax threatening to spill over. yunho senses this, lowering his hand to massage his thumb against your clit in tight circles. he grins against your mouth, drunk off of fucking you as he brings you closer and closer to your high for the second time.

you clench around yunho, sucking him in until you feel every inch of his length dragging along your inner walls while the pressure from his thumb nearly has you seeing stars. instinctively, you try—and fail—to pull your arms free from their restraints as yunho’s pace begins to falter, his hips bucking violently against yours until he cums and fills you to the brim as your own orgasm rocks your body.

yunho pulls out of you as he fights to catch his breath, reaching for his discarded boxers and hurrying into your bathroom for a towel to help clean you off. all the while, he leaves you tied to the bed beneath his spiderwebs and you glare at him from the sheets.

“hello?” you ask, wriggling your arms for emphasis. yunho glances over his shoulder as he sits beside you, feigning ignorance.

“what’s wrong?”

“yunho, i swear to fucking—” you’re cut off when he tears through them in a similar fashion to the way he handled your ankles earlier, finally allowing you to rotate your wrists to regain much-needed circulation.

the room falls into another silence as it was before, heavy and laced with tension. only now, there was an added layer between you that made the situation all the more complex. at the end of the day, yunho was your ex. it didn’t matter that you were still getting over him. it didn’t matter that you’d learned about his secret as the friendly neighborhood spiderman. it didn’t matter that he’d just fucked you senseless. he’d spent months, pushing and pushing until you were left with no choice but to walk away.

“so …” you trail off, avoiding yunho’s gaze entirely as he stares at you. there’s something longing in the way he looks at you, something that you don’t notice as you continue to distract yourself.

“so.”

there was little to be said before a faint beep echoes throughout your bedroom and yunho’s body freezes beside you. quietly, he picks up his suit from beside the armchair and steps back into it without a word until he glances at the attachment on his wrist that flashes with an incoming notification. he looks at you from across the room, the moonlight pouring through the window illuminating his silhouette.

you stare at him, at the way his hands clench and unclench beside him into tight, nervous fists. he holds his mask in one of his hands, ready to tug it back over his head and disappear into the night. he looks toward the window nervously, already plotting how he could make his exit.

the moment you stared into his brown eyes beneath the shade of the courtyard’s wisteria trees, you should have known you were done for.

everything about him was amicable. he was poised, polite, well-mannered. the very definition of a crown prince if you’d ever seen one. on the contrary, you could say the same for yourself. the people’s princess, a beacon of light and laughter even between war-torn kingdoms. so, the very moment that your parents pledged you to one another, you imagined it was the most strategic match on paper that could have been formed.

the ceremony was short, fleeting. there was no time for niceties at a time when people were dying and villages along borders were being seized. your marriage wasn’t a celebration of undying unity or the triumphs of a love match. no, it was one of survival. the fact that you both recited your vows like clockwork with your only witnesses being the royal courts and your parents before the priest said that much.

you stand on one of the balconies looking out at the courtyards that evening, the wisteria trees swaying gently beneath the late summer breeze. even in the face of political turmoil, you vowed to yourself to find beauty in the smaller things in your time at your new home. the neighboring kingdom had a beautiful abundance of gardens and winding paths that traversed the landscape of the castle grounds and you imagined you’d find yourself lost amongst them for some sense of respite when the weight of your crown became too heavy.

“your highness,” he calls out to you and you peer over your shoulder into those brown eyes again. a small smile graces your face as you nod your head, reciting your name back to him.

“no need for the formalities. we are married now, after all.”

hongjoong approaches you carefully, hands clasped behind his back as he hums to himself and follows your gaze out into the gardens. he doesn’t say anything else for some time, the silence growing between you as you process what exactly you’d gotten yourselves into. his gaze flickers to your left hand, where you nervously spin the band of his grandmother’s ring around the base of your finger.

and then, he says, “you know, i got in trouble when i was younger for climbing the wisteria trees and hiding in them. it was the only way i could get out of etiquette lessons.”

you look over at him and can’t help but burst into a fit of laughter at the mental image, the sound pleasing hongjoong as you drop your hands. “somehow, i don’t find that hard to believe. i would have done the same.”

“did you also climb trees to run away from responsibilities?”

“not exactly,” you grin, grateful for hongjoong’s feeble attempt to ease your nerves. “there’s a strip of beach behind our castle grounds. i’d sneak through cracks in the back walls and hide there.”

“that sounds peaceful.”

“it was.”

suddenly, the weight returns. there’s no grand fanfare to celebrate that the crown prince was married. no feast, no dancing in the streets. your parents returned to your kingdom quickly, leaving you in the clutches of a castle you’d stepped foot in maybe once when you were younger. hongjoong’s father said no more than a muttered congratulations before being whisked away to the war room by his court. a new union with your kingdom meant you were both stronger for it when the rest of the continent beyond your northern borders was in shambles.

“i know we’re not exactly in love,” hongjoong says matter-of-factly, breaking the silence for a second time. you know he’s stating a fact, but it still creates a knot in your stomach. “but, i don’t resent you. we’re just—”

“—fulfilling our duties to our people,” you finish for him, a pitiful smile etched across your face. “i know.”

“we can keep it at that, if that makes you feel more comfortable.” he stares at you intently, so much so that you nearly feel as though you have to look away. “a necessary arrangement.”

you stare back at him for some time, your thoughts racing faster than you can manage. you couldn’t fathom the idea of falling in love with hongjoong. there was too much at risk, let alone the added weight of growing attached to him. surely, he would never see this as anything more than a political alliance, no matter how kind he was. it was only logical to agree.

“i think that’s best,” you nod, ignoring the way the words knot your stomach for a second time. “there’s so much at stake right now.”

“i’ve been told i’m not the best at romance, anyway,” he jests, a dramatic sigh slipping past his lips and earning a laugh from you in reply. your gaze returns to the gardens, to the setting sun behind the trees. you don’t notice that hongjoong hasn’t stopped looking at you, his hand lingering beside yours on the banister.

the weeks that follow are grueling. while most of the castle staff and nobles were kind to you as the crown prince’s now-wife, it was a short-lived fascination with the demands of keeping up with the ongoing war. nearly every day, there were reports of casualties along the border, of property seized and widespread panic growing. as much as you worked hard to learn of the kingdom’s customs and internal politics, you needed to maintain correspondence with your own court and the needs of your newfound people.

it became a labyrinth of roundtables, running between libraries and wordless dinners that were so quick you’d barely swallow down a meal before returning to hongjoong’s side in meetings.

“your highness,” an older nobleman says, “it’s incredibly unprofitable to relocate the people of the northern villages closer to the central towns.”

“and it will be unprofitable if we leave them there to die,” hongjoong replies, his tone steady and severe all at once. you stare at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the way his jaw ticked at the older gentleman’s words and the way that his gaze was firm.

“i might also add—” you start and the noblemen interjects.

“no need, your highness.”

“let her speak.”

hongjoong looks at you expectantly, his face unreadable as you clear your throat and face the rest of the court in the intimate war room. there’s clearly a lack of respect from the rest of them that you try to ignore as you continue.

“there’s also the option to use the roads on the western side of the kingdom that lead into ours,” you inform them. “it’s a bit of a longer route, but there’s a vast expanse of free land in our territory that can be used for temporary refuge. it can avoid interrupting any ongoing business in this kingdom and keep central roads clear for trade.”

the room remains silent and you’re unsure if they’re impressed, offended, or both.

“we’ll draft plans for her highness’ suggestion,” one of them finally says and you feel your shoulders nearly melt from how tightly you were tensed. hongjoong nods in approval once and you allow him to follow through with the rest of the meeting.

that night, you confine yourself to one of the libraries close to your chambers. it overlooks the gardens, offering you some semblance of peace as you write correspondence back to your own court to arrange for the refugees.

you’re pages deep, ink running low and your hand cramping from clutching the fountain pen when you hear someone clear their throat and jump.

“well, i didn’t mean to scare you,” hongjoong teases gently, his eyes traveling to the stacks of paper around you. “am i missing something?”

“oh,” you feel heat rise to your cheeks as you look down at the letters you’ve written. “i’ve just been working on correspondence with our court to arrange for the refugee agreement.”

“the court can work on that,” he replies, arching a brow. “there’s no need to overexert yourself.”

“sure, but it’s my land, after all.” you hold his gaze. “it’s my responsibility, whether the court likes it or not.”

hongjoong narrows his eyes at you, his lips parted as if he were contemplating another response. finally, he lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender. “i understand. just don’t hesitate to ask for help if you need it.”

“i will,” you assure him. “why are you awake and wandering at this hour?”

“same as you,” he answers, settling into the chair across from you. “worrying, plotting.”

“worries will give you frown lines,” you poke at him. “terribly unbecoming.”

hongjoong laughs, the sound striking something within you that you quickly stifle as you raise your gaze to look at him. the candlelight illuminates his features, each of them appearing sharper than usual. his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the top button unfastened and his hair falling from its usual sweep over his eyes. you throw yourself back into your writing and fight the urge to continue staring at him.

he doesn’t leave, just sits there quietly and watches as you put pen to paper. a yawn escapes you and he finally speaks, a mischievous glint in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“would you like to go for a walk?”

“this doesn’t really constitute a walk,” you call up at him as he scales the branches of the wisteria trees. lilac petals drift to the gravel beneath your feet as he grunts, finally making it to the edge of a particularly sturdy branch so he could peer out over the walls.

“did we not walk to get here?” he asks from above. there’s something refreshing in his expression, as if he weren’t just burdened with the responsibilities of serving an entire kingdom. right now, he just looked like a boy that liked to climb trees.

you bite down on your bottom lip, the thought crossing your mind for a split second before you hike up your skirts and scale the trunk after him. you’re more capable than you expected, finding your footing quickly and tiptoeing across the branches until you’re stood beside him. you peer through the sea of purple bathed in moonlight until you can see the expanse of the kingdom beyond the walls. faint specks of lanterns and chimney smoke float from the ground, up into the star-scattered skies.

“oh, this is beautiful,” you breathe, the floral scent engulfing you as you stare off into the distance. hongjoong swallows, propped against the trunk further into the expanse of the tree as he watches you admire his kingdom. a blissful sigh slips past your lips and you take a step back, about to turn to him when you misstep.

you flail at the loss of balance before hongjoong reaches to grab you by your wrist and pull you into his chest. the tree shakes, swaying to a stop when you realize you’re a breath’s distance away from him.

from your husband.

your eyes dart between his, your heart thundering in your chest when you realize he hadn’t let you go. his hands remained fixated on your waist, holding you sturdy until you clear your throat and heat rushes to your face.

“thank you,” you mutter as you tuck away a strand of hair.

“mm,” he replies, unsure of what to do with his hands until he shoves them into his pockets and takes the risk of meeting your eyes again. “well, casualties aside. if you ever need a moment to yourself, don’t hesitate to climb up here. although, if you misstep like that again, i might need to be here for it.”

“it was an accident!” you retort, shaking your head before you follow him down the trunk back onto the ground.

that was the first night in what felt like a lifetime that you’d slept soundly.

amidst coordinating war efforts, you and hongjoong were informed that there was a ball hosted in one of the neighboring territories that you were required to attend. the look you exchanged upon hearing the news said more than words. neither of you felt content at the idea of dressing lavishly, indulging in fine wines and dancing the night away when people were actively dying.

even then, it was still a strange responsibility you needed to fulfill.

the guards guide the pair of you into a carriage before filing into their own that flank either side of you. hongjoong doesn’t say much when you sit across from him, focused on the maps and charts he’d brought along to study during the journey. you follow along, quietly observing the routes he marked and notes he’d scribble into the margins.

“would you like to take a break?” you offer, finally getting him to look at you in what felt like hours. his eyes are bloodshot and his face sullen, hardly the picture of someone prepared to attend a ball and dress to the nines. not waiting for his response, you gingerly prick the documents from his hands and fold them neatly into squares that can be stowed away in his satchel. he glares at you in protest, too tired for words when you reach out and pat his hand.

“during a war isn’t the time to celebrate,” you say. although you mean the ball later that night, you both knew full well it could mean the same for your marriage. “but that’s hardly a reason to overwork yourself until you can’t think straight.”

“if i don’t, who will?” hongjoong rasps, allowing himself a moment to close his eyes and lean into the plush upholstery. the carriage rides over a dip in the road and you flinch, your knees brushing against his when he opens his eyes again. he looks less intense than usual. if anything, he looks more human than you’d ever seen him.

“we will figure it out together,” you assure him quietly, your hand still on his. “for now, we have something even more politically complex to figure out.” he stares at you in question until you crack a smile that he mirrors. “attending a ball with these other god-awful royals.”

the sun has already set by the time that the carriage slows to a stop in front of the hosting castle. lanterns line the cobblestone paths, the faint sound of fanfare and conversation floating through the air from an inner ballroom. the castle’s guards meet your own and hongjoong steps out first, offering his hand to you so that you could join him.

a handful of other nobles trickling in stop in their steps, their eyes wide and their whispers rising in volume at the sight of you. this was your first public appearance as a newly wedded couple, something that was sure to be topic of conversation for the night. hongjoong ignores them and keeps his eyes fixated on you, a small smile on his lips as you bow your head in thanks.

“shall we?” he asks as you curl your fingers around his arm. you nod, your head held high as you match his steps to follow the guards through the halls.

as expected, you’re instantly bombarded with well wishes and questions of your marriage to the coveted crown prince. he’s whisked away by other noblemen, dragged towards tables littered with half-empty whiskey bottles and crystal glasses while the women surround you in a corner of the dance floor.

“is he as charming as they say?”

“oh, what was the wedding like?”

“have you all spent much time together yet?”

you answer their questions halfheartedly, a rehearsed smile on your face as you suddenly find yourself pining for hongjoong’s comforting presence at your side. your gaze travels across the ballroom to where he was in a similar position, his own remorseful expression matching yours until they jolt him back into conversation.

“have you gotten a dowry from her parents yet?”

“has she been an absolute nag? when i tell you, my wife—”

“how is she in bed?”

hongjoong stiffens, the barrage of increasingly inappropriate questions making his blood boil until he finally downs the rest of his whiskey and excuses himself. he sifts through the crowd along the edges of the dance floor until he approaches you, the girls surrounding you becoming wide-eyed with awe when he outstretches a hand.

“if you ladies would excuse us,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “i’d like to dance with my wife.”

you take his hand graciously, following him onto the dance floor as the band shifts into a slower waltz. his hand rests on the small of your back, the other holding yours at your side as you fall into a steady rhythm. you hadn’t ever danced together, but years of training on both of your accounts were enough to figure it out.

“thank you,” you say to him as he chuckles.

“no, thank you,” he answers. “the men were equally insufferable.”

little by little, you and hongjoong allow yourselves the privilege to enjoy the night. you join him for a glass of whiskey while the girls whisper about you at the lemonade table. he whisks you around the dance floor for three, four rounds without so much as a glance in their direction. your laugh grows louder and your cheeks hurt from smiling more than you’d expected.

the night finally comes to a close, whispering royals led by guards to various wings of the castle. you remain at hongjoong’s side, deep in conversation about one nobleman’s particularly tight trousers in a fit of laughter when you’re guided into a room and the towering oak doors are shut behind you.

the pair of you fall silent. you suddenly become all too aware of hongjoong standing beside you, the scent of his perfume and the way heat radiates from his skin.

at your own castle, you slept in separate rooms. separate beds. you hadn’t so much as consummated your own marriage with the onslaught of political responsibilities. it had been weeks and you weren’t entirely sure what hongjoong’s bed chambers even looked like.

yet, here you were, in a foreign land, standing beside one another in a room with one bed and not a wandering eye in sight.

“i can ask the guards to prepare another room,” hongjoong says quickly in a mumbling mess before you reach for his arm to stop him.

“it’s fine,” you say, not recognizing the sound of your own voice over your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage. he turns to you slowly, his eyes trailing over every inch of you that feels more exposed than you’d ever been.

he takes a step closer.

you feel your breath caught in your throat, your mind reeling with every warning that you should back away and prepare for bed. you feel your hand tremble against his arm and swallow, the taste of whiskey still on your tongue as you meet his eyes.

he takes another step closer.

hongjoong brings his hand to your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek tentatively. it’s a small gesture, but enough to earn a gasp from you as your eyes flutter shut. finally, finally he closes the distance between you when he presses his lips to yours.

the feeling that surges along your veins is inexplicable. he was your husband, but in name only. something about it felt scandalous, as if you were both shying away from your duties as the crown prince and his bride in a time when there was no room for romance. even then, you drape your arms over his shoulders to draw him in closer, the heat of his body pressed against yours.

“hongjoong,” you try to say, the last strain of logic in an attempt for you to stop yourselves. “we—”

“shh,” he hisses against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine until he practically begs. “just this one night. we deserve one night.”

the final bit of restraint left within you snaps and you sink your nails into his shoulder blades as he lifts you to carry you to the bed. you fall back onto the sheets, hongjoong’s lips never leaving yours as he settles between your thighs.

for just one night, you free yourselves of your duty to your crowns. the war raging on at the border fades into the distance. no one was telling you that you had no room for feelings at a time like this.

not even yourselves.

the next morning, you awaken to hongjoong’s arm draped over your waist and your face buried in silk sheets. your skirts and corset were thrown haphazardly across the room, the same as his trousers and coats. his scent mingles with yours, sunlight pouring in through the tall windows as you finally sit up with a groan.

hongjoong stirs, his own eyes peeling open to look up at you with a blissful smile on his face. “good morning.”

“good morning,” you hum in reply, stretching your legs over the edge of the bed to prepare for your return back to the castle.

the pair of you are seated in the carriage once again, en route to your own territory when hongjoong breaks the silence unexpectedly.

“last night can’t happen again,” he says, his expression unreadable when you nearly unhinge your jaw in astonishment.

“pardon?”

“i—” he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck as he averts your gaze. “we can’t let ourselves get distracted when we return.”

you stare at him for a long time before you finally nod once. “of course.”

you don’t say another word for the rest of the journey.

there’s little time for your irritation to fester when you’re bombarded with noblemen running out to the carriage, their arms flailing as they yell over one another.

“what is happening?” hongjoong asks, his voice carrying over theirs until one finally speaks.

“the caravans headed down the western route were ambushed.” your blood runs cold as your eyes widen in shock. “their king discovered the diversion and sent his men away from the border and towards the refugees.”

“he’s just being barbaric,” you seethe, “there’s not even any monetary value in attacking refugees.”

hongjoong doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes darting between you and the noblemen before he finally turns his back to you. “prepare another carriage for my departure. please write to them that i will be visiting for a diplomatic discussion.”

“let me go with you,” you urge, surprised when hongjoong pulls away from your touch. he doesn’t say another word to you and hurries to prepare with the rest of the court, leaving you standing alone.

you’re not sure what the plan is for hongjoong to approach the rival kingdom. he hadn’t so much as spared a passing glance following your return to the castle. you were left to dinners alone while the king and crown prince focused on political strategy. the handmaids urged you to go for walks, take up hobbies in the drawing rooms or the gardens. all you could do was seethe and wonder what it would take for him to at least look at you again.

if not the way he did that night, at least just to acknowledge you.

the night before he leaves, you’re finally able to corner him in his bed chambers thanks to one of the guards that lets you through.

“what are you doing here?” he asks blankly, focused on packing his belongings for the journey.

“i’m your wife,” you snap, frustration evident in your voice as you storm across the room towards him. you don’t even appreciate the fact that you’re able to take in his bedroom for the first time. “we returned nearly a week ago and you won’t even speak to me.”

“i have more important things to address right now, do i not?” hongjoong glares at you over his shoulder, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you were tangled beneath the sheets together.

“and am i not supposed to be included in these conversations?” you ask, taking a step closer. “am i not the queen-to-be? are these not also my people?”

“this isn’t a discussion,” hongjoong replies, “it’s a decision.”

“and you think you have the right to decide for us both?” the room is thick with tension, the pair of you glaring at one another. you see red as you run a hand over your face in frustration before heaving a sigh. “actually, go. do whatever you think is best. don’t bother involving me.”

“what are you so angry about?” he asks, his voice raised.

“i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“oh, i’m sorry.” you let out a dry, humorless laugh. “forgive me for thinking making love to me and then acting as though i don’t exist is concerning.”

“i did not make love to you,” hongjoong corrects you, his tone clipped. the way he looks at you practically drives a dagger through your chest.

“so what was that, then?” you’re close enough that you’re sure he can feel your breath on his lips. “touching me like that? telling me sweet nothings while you fucked me into the sheets?”

“it didn’t mean anything."

the way his words land shatters every bit of admiration you had for him. he wasn’t the boy who liked to climb trees anymore.

he was just the crown prince.

“i see.” your voice becomes eerily calm, enough for you to back away from him and bow your head in surrender. hongjoong stares at you, motionless and unreadable with his hands hovering at his sides. you don’t lift your eyes back to meet his gaze, focused on the floor beneath your feet. “apologies, your highness. i should go.”

hongjoong says your name, but it’s cut off by the way the doors slam behind you when you leave.

you watch the next morning when the carriages depart through the front gates from your balcony. you spent the night tossing and turning, fighting with yourself as to whether or not you should cave and return to hongjoong in an attempt to remedy the situation. pride got the better of you and kept you confined to your bed.

even after such a horrid argument, you feel your heart sink when the carriages disappear beneath the canopy of trees that lead into the rest of the kingdom. you hadn’t realized how desperately you craved his touch until he lay a finger on you. how badly you needed to hear the sound of his laugh until he had you spinning around the dance floor in stitches.

you’re left with little time for your own thoughts when the remaining members of the royal court summon you to coordinate efforts with your own kingdom. you quickly become engrossed in your work in order to stifle any last thoughts you had of hongjoong. you hear word from the other men that he hopes to negotiate a ceasefire, but it only spurs your anger further knowing you could have made a compelling argument of your own.

the carriages return—only this time, without hongjoong.

“he chose to stay behind with the men on the front lines,” the driver informs you. considering you hadn’t said a word, you’re sure your expressions gives away enough. “it seems as though the negotiations were unsuccessful.”

the anger in your chest quickly simmers in exchange for a gnawing anxiety that rattles against your ribcage. the thought of him becoming injured—or worse—was something that seemed so far removed that you hadn’t considered the possibility. then again, you should have known better with the way that he had an undying commitment to serving his people.

a part of you wants to write to him, to tell him you hadn’t meant to let him go on a sour note. a larger part of you wants to remain upset, to let it fester so you could feel something with his absence.

days turn to weeks, to nearly a month by the time that a letter is placed on your dressing table. you recognize the stationery immediately and feel your blood run cold at the sight.

to my wife.

i debated as to whether or not i should write this letter at all. i’ve since realized that it would be wholly unfair to you to not tell you the truth. that keeping you at arm’s length did more harm than good.

we made an agreement on our wedding night that we were to be nothing more than a political alliance. a necessary union for the good of our people, especially in the face of ongoing conflict. we agreed that there was no benefit to falling in love beyond what was required of as the future king and queen. the moment i looked at you between the wisteria branches, illuminated by the moonlight, i realized i had already failed.

not a day has gone by since meeting you that i’ve not felt madly in love with you. from the way you stand your ground in discussions with a court you were married into, to the way you look at me. the way you furrow your brows when you’re deep in thought (which, by the way, is terribly unbecoming).

i told you that the night we shared meant nothing. for that, i am sorry. i would never blame you if you chose to never forgive me. truthfully, it meant more than anything i’ve allowed myself to feel in a very long time. it was not a mistake, nor was it a distraction. you are none of those things. but, you understand better than anyone that allowing ourselves to feel is a luxury we cannot afford. not as the people responsible for ensuring our kingdom survives what is to come.

i do not know if convincing you to hate me is any more successful than risking love. i do not know if i will have the opportunity to convince you that i did not mean a single word i said to you before i left. i do know this much—i love you. more than you can imagine. more than i think i was even able to realize on my own.

i am aware of the risks associated with staying with our men on the border. the worry it must instill in you, the uncertainty as to whether or not i will even return to the castle. every day, the scent of smoke and gunpowder convinces me that there may not come a day—which is why i needed to tell you this while i still had the ability to do so.

i will never be able to say it enough times, but again—i apologize. for everything.

— hongjoong

you’re not sure exactly how much time has passed since you received hongjoong’s letter.

war continues raging on at the border. you hear word that he and the men are holding steady, that there seemed to be no end in sight with their resolve. his letter remains tucked beneath your sheets, folded over so many times that the edges were becoming frayed. you don’t write back. you attempted, drafting a response over and over until you convinced yourself that it was better to keep quiet. he had nothing to lose if he had no idea how you truly felt in return, which was exactly what this arrangement was intended to be in the first place. it was a difficult burden to bear, the weight of your own feelings coupled with your desperate attempt to protect the kingdom alongside the king. hongjoong was becoming distant, his scent no longer embedded in your mind and his touch a distant memory.

you wander from your bed chamber on a random night, following the trails down to the wisteria tree he’d first climbed with you. with a sigh, you trace a finger along the ridges in the bark, as if feeling them against your skin would tether you to the memory.

as the tears brim at your waterline and threaten to spill over, you succumb to the pressure of every emotion coursing through your body and collapse beneath the trees with a resigned sob. time passes, your tears dry and your breathing returns to a steady rhythm as you lean against the bark with a defeated sigh.

“i love you,” you say, your voice carrying in a whisper along the night air. somewhere beyond the castle walls, you hoped he would hear you.