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Urgh the heartache 😭😭😭

fate bound | from forget me not

Pairing: king!Jeong Yunho x court lady!Reader AU: non-idol | historical au Summary: Realizing that Yunho's love, no matter how sincere, will never be enough to change your fate, you decide that you cannot spend your life waiting for a love that might never fully be yours. Word Count: 4.2K (I guess it's not really a drabble?) Warnings: angst/no comfort, mentions of death, poisoning, execution, political turmoil, history repeating itself, yunho is dumb in every lifetime

a/n: I was inspired to write this scene after watching the 'the red sleeve' but then cut it from forget me not because it was too long. I figured it faired better as a oneshot but wanted to share it with you all

Forget Me Not Masterlist

"Why do you refuse me?" Yunho’s voice was low, almost pleading, as his fingers gently toyed with a thick lock of your hair. 

You hummed softly, your gaze drifting out the window to the expanse beyond the palace walls. The night sky stretched on endlessly, stars twinkling with a freedom you could never claim. As you shuffled closer to him, your hand came to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. You wished, for just a moment, that things could be different—that you could wish for more. More of Yunho’s love, more of his time, more of a life that wasn’t bound by duty.

“I am a bird, Your Majesty," you finally murmured, your words measured. "I was born to roam the skies untethered. But if I stay with you, I will be caged.”

Yunho’s fingers stilled and you felt him tense beneath your hand, his breath hitching in his throat as the truth of your rejection created a rift neither of you had wanted to acknowledge. He tilted his head down, searching your face for answers, for a glimpse of hope as if willing you to reconsider.

"You wouldn’t be caged," he murmured, his hand sliding up to cup the delicate juncture of your jaw. His thumb brushed the curve of your cheekbone, lingering with a tenderness that made you shiver. Yunho’s touch was so gentle, so familiar, yet it carried the weight of a man on the brink of losing everything.

"I would give you everything," he continued, "Anything you want, anything you could dream of—just stay." His eyes, dark and unwavering, locked onto yours, filled with a longing that was impossible to ignore. "By my side."

You shook your head, a bittersweet smile pulling at your lips. "I have no place in your world," you whispered, the words heavy with truth. "You are the king. You have a queen. And I am just another face of the court."

"I don’t care about the crown, or the court," he cut in, the conviction striking through his tender facade. “I care about you.”

The sincerity in his voice should have melted your heart, but instead, it only caused it to ache. You turned your head, refusing to meet his gaze, your eyes drifting toward the floor as if looking anywhere else.

"I care for you more than you’ll ever know, Yunho. But…”

Yunho stood frozen for a moment, the weight of your words sinking into him. His heart clenched, panic flickering behind his eyes as he reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing against your arm, desperate to stop you from pulling further away.

"You are asking me to be something I cannot be," you said quietly, your back still to him. "A concubine? I do not want to lead a lonely life as someone who will always live on the fringes of your court." 

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand linger on your skin, but the hesitation in his touch told you everything. He didn’t want you to leave, but his actions, his choices, had spoken louder than his words ever could. He was asking you to stay in a world where you would always be second, where you would live in the shadow of his crown, his duty, his queen. And no matter how much he said he cared, no matter how much he wanted you by his side, it would never be enough. You could never be enough—not for the life he led, not for the future he was bound to.

"I cannot spend the rest of my life waiting for a love that might never fully be mine."

⋆

You lay on the cold, hard ground of your prison cell, bruised and broken, your breath shallow in the suffocating silence. You had been framed. It was too perfect a plan, too flawlessly executed to be anything but a scheme crafted by another minister's family—one determined to weaken Yunho’s hold on the throne by any means necessary. Their daughter, they said, was meant to be a concubine, but their ambition reached far beyond that.

Poisoning the queen. Treason. The word itself had echoed through the court like a death sentence. There had been no time to protest, no chance to prove your innocence. The evidence, though fabricated, had been damning, too precise to be questioned. And just as quickly, the sentence had been passed: execution.

You think back to your life before all of this—before the accusations, before the cell. You had come from a family of scholars, where the value of knowledge had been instilled in you from a young age. Your father had risen through the ranks, earning King Minho’s favor with his intellect and wisdom, eventually becoming the Minister of Education. His rise to power had elevated your family, and with that came a life closely tied to the palace.

You spent countless hours within the palace walls, learning how to be a proper lady—a lady fit for court. But behind the formality, there had always been the occasional glimpse of something more. You often caught sight of the young prince, Yunho, moving through the halls with the carefree spirit of someone who had yet to feel the full weight of his royal duties. He was tall even then, always smiling, the future crown not yet a shadow over his life.

But those days felt like a distant dream now, lost to the chaos and schemes that had brought you to this prison. The innocence of the past seemed almost laughable, given how tangled your life had become in the politics of the court.

It started with whispers—soft enough at first to ignore. The Queen had fallen ill, but illness was not uncommon in a palace rife with stress and intrigue. You thought little of it at first, assuming it would pass as other ailments had. But then, the whispers grew louder. The Queen wasn’t recovering. Her condition worsened day by day, and soon, the court began to search for someone to blame.

You never imagined it would be you.

“This was found in your room,” Captain Song Mingi said, holding the small glass vial in his hand. His eyes—once kind, once familiar—were now filled with disgust. There was no mercy in them, only judgment.

You stared at the vial, your heart hammering in your chest, your mind racing. The color drained from your face as panic began to rise. You knew what it was. The poison that was now sitting in the hands of the guards, supposedly discovered in your room.

“No,” you breathed, shaking your head as the full weight of the accusation settled over you like a suffocating blanket. “No, I don’t know how that got there! I swear!”

Your words fell on deaf ears. The guards were already moving, pulling your arms behind your back with brutal efficiency. Your protests were swallowed by the indifferent air of the palace as they forced you to your knees.

“I haven’t done anything!” You were pleading now, your voice shaking as you reached for the captain, only for the guards to step forward, forcing your hands away. “Please, listen to me! Someone put it there!”

It was only then that you realized how thoroughly you had been framed. The poison had been planted in your room. Someone must have placed it there, slipping it in when you left to visit your family, weaving the web that would entangle you and leave you helpless. Someone had outplayed you without you even realizing there was a game.

Your thoughts spiraled as you were dragged through the palace corridors, the weight of the accusations crushing you. The same faces that had once smiled politely at you now averted their eyes, murmuring behind their hands. Some looked at you with pity, but most with thinly veiled disdain. You had gone from a respected lady of the court to a condemned woman in mere moments. The court, so fickle and cruel, had already made its judgment.

And then you saw him—Yunho.

"Your majesty!" you called out, your voice breaking. “Please!”

He stood at the far end of the corridor, his tall frame silhouetted against the soft light pouring in through the windows. His eyes were wide, filled with disbelief as he watched the guards drag you toward the dungeons. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and you silently begged him to say something, to stop this madness. But he didn’t.

His silence was louder than any accusation.

In that moment, you realized that the love you shared with Yunho—the bond that had once felt unshakable—meant nothing in the shadow of the crown. He had chosen his duty, the kingdom, over you. 

And in doing so, he had chosen to abandon the truth.

Crown Prince Yunho ascended the throne on a spring day, the warmth of the season at odds with the bitter chill weighing down his heart. His father, King Minho, had ruled for over three decades, a formidable monarch whose strength held the kingdom together through years of external threats and internal discord. But illness had claimed him in the end, slowly draining the life from the beloved ruler.

Now, as he sat on the same gilded throne that had once seemed so far from his reach, he realized that he had inherited more than just his father’s crown. He had inherited a kingdom tearing at the seams.

The court had been divided long before Yunho took the throne. His father had managed to keep the peace through sheer force of will, balancing the opposing factions with a mixture of diplomacy and coercion. 

However, as illness claimed him in his final years, that delicate balance began to crumble. His once-commanding presence was diminished by weakness, the voice that had once filled the grand hall now strained and frail. The nobles, sensing the king’s grip slipping, grew bolder. Whispers of unrest began to spread, and loyalties once firm started to waver. Minho’s iron rule, so effective in his prime, had become brittle, and the cracks in his reign were now visible to all.

By the time Yunho ascended the throne, the court was a fractured landscape of competing agendas, all vying for control of the new king. And they watched him now with eager eyes, waiting to see whether he would prove as strong as his father—or if he would stumble, providing them the opportunity to seize power for themselves.

When Yunho was fifteen, King Minho arranged his betrothal to Jang Mina, the daughter of the Minister of War, long before Yunho had any say in the matter. The engagement had been settled when Yunho was still a young prince, barely of age, and the weight of his future crown felt like a distant, far-off burden.

To King Minho, there was no better way to cement lasting peace than by binding his son to the general’s only daughter, ensuring that the most powerful military family in the kingdom remained loyal to the crown. 

As the crown prince, Yunho’s life was one of duty, each step already plotted long before he took it. And so, on the day of his twentieth name day, under the watchful gaze of the court and the kingdom, he wed Mina. The ceremony was a grand affair, a spectacle of wealth and power designed to solidify alliances and display the unity of the throne and the military. 

While Mina was everything the court could have hoped for in a future queen, their marriage had been built on necessity rather than love. Yunho had known Mina for years, but not in the way one might come to know a friend or a lover. Their relationship had been formal, shaped by their roles and the expectations placed upon them. Conversations were polite but distant, and though Mina was never unkind, there was an unspoken understanding between them—they were bound by duty, not affection.

⋆

“My lady,” Heesook’s voice broke the silence, shaking you from your thoughts. Your lady-in-waiting stood at the bars of your cell, her hood pulled low to hide the bruises on her face. Her hands reached through the iron, desperate to touch yours. You rose slowly and grasped her fingers, your own trembling slightly.

“Heesook,” you said softly, offering her a faint smile despite the heaviness in your chest. “I didn’t think they’d let you come.”

“I had to see you,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. Tears already welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. Her gaze flickered over your bruised face, the cuts and swelling a stark reminder of the violence you’d endured while captive. She clenched her fists as if trying to hold herself together, “I had to see you one last time.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, straining to give here a smile despite your swollen features from the endless torture by guards. 

Heesook choked on a sob, her grip tightening around your hands. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re innocent. None of this is your fault.”

You smiled sadly, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. They’ve already decided my fate.”

There was no escape from this. The court had condemned you, and soon, they would come for you. Yet, despite the fear deep inside you, there was something else—a strange sense of relief. No more fighting, no more struggling against the endless tirade of lies and deceit.

But as you stood there, clutching Heesook’s trembling hands, one thing still weighed heavy on your heart—one thing you couldn’t let go of, no matter how much you tried. The words you needed to say were caught in your throat, choking you, but you knew you had to speak them.

“I have no regrets,” you repeated softly, your voice faltering as you tried to convince yourself. “Except for one.”

Heesook looked up at you, her tear-filled eyes searching your face for an answer she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear. Her fingers tightened around yours, as if holding on could change what was to come. 

“What is it, my lady?” she sobbed. 

You hesitated, the truth weighing you down like the shackles around your ankle. The one thing you had clung to for so long, the one thing that had given you strength in the frenzy of court politics, the thing that had kept you alive through the betrayals and the lies—it was also the very thing that had destroyed you.

“His Majesty.”

Heesook’s tears spilled over, her sobs breaking the quiet stillness of the cell. “But you love him,” she cried, her voice cracking under the weight of her sorrow. “How can you regret that?”

You closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against the iron bars. The memories of Yunho flooded your mind–memories before the crown, before the burden of duty weighed down his shoulders, before the court’s games had stolen him away from you. 

“He was everything to me,” you said quietly, your voice a fragile whisper in the air between you and Heesook. “And in the end, I was nothing to him.”

Heesook shook her head fiercely, tears streaming down her face as she clung to your hands, her sobs louder now, desperate. “That’s not true. He loves you. I know he does. I’ve seen it in his eyes.”

“Perhaps once, Heesook. Perhaps he did,” you said softly. “But love… love is not enough to compete against the crown. And I was selfish for asking for too much.”

You could see the hope crumbling in Heesook’s expression, her grip on you faltering as the reality of your words sank in.

“I’m ready to face whatever comes,” you sighed, pulling your hands away from hers, letting go of the last tether to the life you once fought so hard to hold onto. “And in my next life…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I wish to forget him. I hope my heart can be free.”

⋆

Shackled in heavy chains, you were marched through the bustling courtyard, every step echoing against the stone. The crowd gathered to witness your final moments, a sea of faces filled with judgment and fear. Whispers of "traitor" followed you like a dark cloud. But in your heart, you knew the truth: someone had framed you.

Yunho stood there, his face, usually so open and warm, now shut tight like a stone wall guarding his emotions. You wondered if he believed the accusations, or if, deep down, he knew the truth. But he had said nothing in your defense—not once. And that was what hurt the most—not the accusation, but his silence.

As you were forced to kneel before the executioner, your body remained steady—not from fear, but from a readiness that had settled deep within you. You had already lost everything: your name, your reputation, and soon, your life. But you were not afraid. You would not beg for mercy or forgiveness for a crime you did not commit. You would meet your end with dignity, knowing that the truth would one day come to light.

The crowd around you was restless, their voices a low hum of anticipation. You met Yunho’s gaze across the courtyard, searching for any flicker of the man you had once known, the one who had looked at you with tenderness, who had trusted you. But all you saw in his eyes was duty and distance, the warmth you had once shared now a cold, unyielding barrier.

You closed your eyes, the sound of the executioner’s blade grinding against the whetstone reverberating in your ears, each stroke sharpening the edge that would soon claim your life.

This was it. There would be no last-minute pardon, no miracle intervention. The court had made its decision, and you were to meet your end here, on this platform, due to a crime you never committed. You didn’t flinch. There was no point in pleading for mercy that would never come. The blade would fall, and it would all be over.

The executioner loomed before you, his shadow stretching long across the platform as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, each movement methodical, almost ritualistic, as though the act of taking a life had become second nature to him.

In one swift, practiced motion, the executioner brought the blade down. It sliced through the air with a chilling whistle, the sound sharp and final, like the severing of life itself. You braced for the cold bite of steel, for the end you knew was coming, your heart hammering in your chest. You could almost feel the edge of the blade as it drew closer, an inevitable end to your suffering.

But the end never came.

You gasped, heaving as your eyes snapped open, the terror of the dream still gripping you. You were disoriented as you shot upright, your heart racing as though you'd just escaped death itself. For a moment, the weight of the executioner’s presence still lingered, and it took a few rapid blinks to fully shake off the lingering nightmare.

Fumbling for your phone, you squinted as the screen lit up, the harsh glow revealing the time—2:52 AM. A sigh escaped your lips. You’d fallen asleep while studying again, your mind consumed by the pressure of your upcoming history exam. 

In the days following your execution, Yunho couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Mina had recovered, but there was a quiet unease that settled over the palace, a heaviness in the air that no one spoke of, but everyone felt. Whispers crept through the court like shadows, and though the formalities had been observed—the execution had been swift, justice had been served—the disquiet within Yunho only grew.

It wasn’t until weeks later, when Mingi stood before the king in his private quarters. 

“Your Majesty,” Mingi began, his voice steady despite the tension that thickened the air. There was no formal bow, no flourish of titles—just a direct approach. Yunho knew instantly that whatever his captain carried with him was more than routine palace matters. 

Mingi shifted slightly, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. "I bring news that bears great significance," he continued, never breaking eye contact.

"You may speak freely, Captain." Yunho’s tone, though calm, held a weight that pressed the moment deeper into somber territory.

“A confession has been made by a maid. She was caught trying to flee the city during a routine check,” he continued, each word deliberate, sharpening the already taut atmosphere. “Upon being questioned, she confessed that the Hwang’s had conspired to poison the queen and she was tasked to plant the poison in Lady Lee’s chambers."

Yunho's breath stilled in his chest. He knew well the Hwang family’s ambitions, their subtle rise through the ranks of court by exploiting every opportunity, every weak link. A lower noble class family, yes, but one with clear designs on rising further. They had sought his favor before, attempting to entwine themselves with his household, but never had he suspected their ambitions would stretch into something so dangerous.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as anger and grief brewed within him. He had always believed in justice, in the truth prevailing, but now he was faced with the stark reality that the court was a place of manipulation and schemes, where innocence could be twisted into guilt.

You had been dragged through the cold halls of the palace, your voice pleading, broken, as you called out for mercy. He had stood there, frozen, unable to move, unable to stop the guards as they pulled you away. The pain in your eyes, the betrayal, the terror—it haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you pulled away, your voice cracking with desperation. And he had done nothing.

The last time Yunho had come to your chambers, it was a desperate attempt to hold on to you, to shield you from the dangers he knew lurked in the palace. Once again, he offered for you to become his concubine, the only way he could think to protect you. It wasn’t the future he wanted for you, but it was all he could give, even if you could never wear the crown of queen.

But you refused him, as you had before, your eyes filled with unwavering resolve. You were proud of your independence, too proud to become something lesser, to live in the shadows of the palace. You would not sacrifice your dignity to ensure his bloodline while he remained bound to another.

Could he have saved you from the hell that followed? The knowledge that you had died believing he had turned his back on you was unbearable. 

The court had demanded action, its eyes watching his every move, waiting to see if he would uphold the law or let his emotions cloud his judgment. He had always prided himself on being a just ruler, one who believed in fairness above all else, but this...this was something he could never have prepared for.

You had been accused of treason, framed by the very forces that lurked in the shadows of the palace. And despite everything inside him screaming that you were innocent, the court had brought forth "evidence," twisted and manipulated to cast you as the perfect culprit.

Yunho had to prove them wrong. He had to show the court and the entire kingdom that he was not above the law, that no one was beyond the reach of justice—not even someone he cared for as deeply as you. It was the hardest decision of his life, one that tore his soul apart, but in that moment, he had no choice.

So, he gave the order. He signed the decree, his hand shaking as the seal from his ink dried on the parchment that would seal your fate. 

“She was innocent… all along?” Yunho’s voice cracked, as if by saying it aloud he could force reality to change, to undo the horrible truth. His chest tightened, the weight of it suffocating, and his knees nearly buckled beneath him.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Captain Song said, his voice steady but tinged with a sorrow Yunho couldn't stomach. 

Yunho’s body lurched forward as the enormity of the revelation hit him, tears already streaming down his face. A sob tore from his throat, low and strangled, as if all the pain he'd been holding back burst through at once. It was the sound of a man broken beyond repair.

He clutched his chest, gasping as if trying to pull the guilt, the anguish, the horror out of himself. He had killed you. He had chosen duty over you, over truth, and it had cost you your life.

Yunho leaned forward, his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face. It felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, shattered beyond repair. How could he ever forgive himself? 

"I'm sorry," he choked out between cries, though his words were swallowed by the emptiness that surrounded him. "I'm so... so sorry."

But the words were meaningless, swallowed by the void your absence left behind. He had condemned you, betrayed the love you shared, and now he would live with that burden for the rest of his life. 

The throne he sat upon felt cold and hollow, a constant reminder of the price he had paid for power. And as Yunho sobbed into his hands, the weight of the crown now felt unbearable.

Ahhhhhh!!! Yunho! Finally! Took you long enough! After all that heartbreak ahhh!!

Fate has always finds its way huh? Cause If it wasn't for Wooyoung and his bullying tendency, I don't think Yunho that dumbass would even know and realized what he had done although he doesn't fully know yet.

I am glad for Wooyoung and his big mouth 😌 sorry not sorry.

forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

Fic Masterlist

a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”. 

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon. 

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down. 

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing. 

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret. 

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it. 

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted. 

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there. 

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim. 

Then there was Sungjae. 

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension. 

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner. 

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them. 

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed. 

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. 

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread. 

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable. 

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered. 

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger. 

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw. 

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul. 

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation. 

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms. 

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged. 

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury. 

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers. 

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him. 

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. 

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say. 

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue. 

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew. 

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you. 

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered. 

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing. 

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. 

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled. 

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached. 

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight. 

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious. 

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season. 

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him. 

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump. 

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed. 

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor. 

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes. 

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. 

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face. 

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty. 

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his. 

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape. 

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed. 

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous. 

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice. 

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all. 

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew. 

It was you. 

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear. 

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight. 

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed. 

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips. 

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response. 

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without seeing you first.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do. 

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together. 

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the Emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The Emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile. 

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you. 

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie

Oh my gosh! Why didn’t I find this sooner 🫠

Had to change my panties cause this is so… wonderful 😌

CIY- CH 21

Chapter Twenty-one

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader

📍Summary: "Equal"

📍WC: 3.2k

📍AU: detective/mafia

📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance

📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, suggestive, slight mxm, mentions of minor character death and gang violence

📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour

📍 AN: I felt like posting it a bit early (aka need some serotonin for my writing again)

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You had demanded Wooyoung take you home, staying quiet on the ride and ignoring both him, and the others on the screen. Er well, pretended to.

It was quite difficult to keep a straight face as Wooyoung and Hongjoong had a conversation about how you tasted. Seonghwa had left the room in frustration when Hongjoong wouldn’t stop, Yeosang going with him hesitantly to eat it seemed. You hadn’t bothered putting your underwear back on, mostly because Wooyoung had cleaned you up with them and then kept them in his hand as he did drive you home.

You had wanted to talk about what just happened, but the fury and shame had been just a bit much. A fresh sting on the burn you felt over Mingi and San.

Yet at the same time, Hongjoong had trusted you with this undercover mission. And you knew enough about him, about the tightness of this unit, to know that you would not be put in such a meaningful situation without trust in your capabilities.

Clearly you could do nothing with one of them without the others being involved or knowing about it. Almost as if they had an intent to share you. How you felt about that would remain to be seen- once you did calm down.

That didn’t happen until you were back in your apartment, in your shower, leaning against the wall and thinking about the day.

Again, you were in some deep shit.

Something was going on between the Pink Boa’s and their head group the Golden Circle and Wooyoung just slapped you right in the middle. The fact it’s his mother that runs the Boa’s, and that if she goes down the unit will take such a huge hit you could kiss your job, maybe life, goodbye.

Without respect for you.

Your chest warmed at the thought, corners of your lips pulled up into a grin before you were aware of it. He was putting faith in you. Though the alternative was that he put you in a situation where if you did fuck up, you would be removed by someone else’s hands.

That thought wiped the grin right off your face.

Was this another test? Either you could handle the work, the underbelly, or else you would be taken out?

Instead of fear coursing through you, you stepped out of the shower with a grin. You could handle this. You would handle this. There was no way you were going to back down. There was too much to lose, too much at stake and not just for you.

The sex aside, your previous unit aside, this was a job- this was more than a job - and you were determined to do it right.

Daily Wooyoung picked you up and took you Downtown. Daily he took you back. You worked night shifts as a bartender and waitress at the club, revamping your wardrobe with some clothes that were suitable. Wooyoung never stayed around while you worked, but Yeosang would ask you about certain things on the car ride back.

Certain customers. But he would also mention some irrelevant things. Asking about a drink you made, or complimenting your outfit for the day. They were few and far between in the week that passed but definitely had an effect. 

It was also cute how he never looked you in the eye. Cuter how he would force the screen off whenever Wooyoung would start to tease him for complimenting you. Now that he wasn’t hating on you, it was hard to ignore how soft he seemed.

He was smart, attentive to every detail and observant to the point that it was impressive. Even with the multiple screens in front of him, which was a guess, he was able to pick up on details you hadn’t been able to while inside the building itself.

Of course the night Wooyoung had eaten you out wasn’t forgotten entirely. Yes it wasn’t brought up again, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were nowhere to be seen and other than Yeosang avoiding eye contact there was no other sign that he had watched. It was Wooyoung who would constantly remind you, every time he dropped you off at your apartment he would follow you up, begging to come inside and get a taste again.

”I’m going to wither away without another taste soon. Come on Goddess. Please? I know you loved it. Please use me.” He would beg up until you shut the door in his face. He’d leave with a whine, but you were always left hot and bothered. You had loved his mouth on you, how desperate he had been to taste your cum and to hear your moans.

Every time he begged you were more and more likely to give in. Until Mingi got involved.

Wooyoung was begging as usual, and this time you were debating on giving in, letting him pin you to the door and nose against your neck while he whined. “Please. Just another taste. You could use my cock this time if you want? You want to don’t you?” He pressed closer, hands fiddling with your skirt that was the shortest yet and that might have been the reason Wooyoung was even more desperate than usual today.

Your fingers played with his black and white strands of his hair, exposing your neck and letting him press kisses there. He really did whittle down your defenses, play into your desires, and there was just something about him that made him hard to resist.

The sight of Mingi a few feet away, gawking with a pained look in his eyes, was enough to have you pushing away though. Wooyoung whined, holding on tight, just to have Yunho rip him off you. “What the fu- oh, Yunho.” Wooyoung’s curse quickly turned into a grin as he took note of the two of them. A grin that faded with confusion as Yunho was staring him down with a hardness you hadn’t expected on his features.

Mingi wasn’t taking his eyes off you however. He looked… worse for wear with a busted lip and scrapped up cheek, his hair cut and dyed differently to give him a more ruffian look. But nothing was a bigger shock in his appearance than his wide boba eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears and vibrant pain.

It pissed you off that he had the audacity to act hurt over this. Standing up straight you immediately shifted your demeanor to a defensive stance. “What? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?”

Mingi winced at your harsh tone and for a moment you regretted it. The moment was dashed away when Yunho turned on you quickly and boxed you in, hands braced on the door by your head. “Are you satisfied? Do you plan to hop on his dick and then get pissed when he tells us about it?”

You jutted out your chin, glaring up at him. “Considering three of you already watched it, I doubt I’d get pissed.”

“What?” Mingi gawked, turning to Wooyoung for an answer. You expected the latter to have a shit eating grin on his face.

He happily filled in the blanks as well. “Ate her out in my car. Forgot to turn the camera off. Yeosang, Captain and Vice saw it all. Got off to it too.”

Yunho scoffed above you, hand moving to your neck and thumb pressing up into the soft spot under your jaw. “So why the fuck did you get pissy?”

“Because of Chan!” You pushed him back immediately, anger searing through you. How dare they get defensive! “Because you passed around something so vulnerable about me but wouldn’t let me in. Why do you all get to know of my pathetic rejection and release from my last unit? But you keep me in the dark about everything concerning you and the unit? Pass me around like some fucking toy to use and yes, I like the physical contact but god dammit!” You pushed at him again, stumbling Yunho back into Wooyoung. “I want to be your equal. And you haven’t treated me like that. Neither of you. For fuck’s sake Wooyoung is the only one who has. Who has been honest. I know more about him than either of you and I spent more time around you!”

Tears pricked your eyes as you stared them down, trying to keep up the intimidation and anger but the way your voice had cracked hadn’t been lost. Your own words rang inside your head and it was true.

Even after a week, learning more about the Boa’s and this world that was quietly weaving through the city you grew up in, the most important thing you wanted from this unit was to be their equal. And if that came to sex, to more than just co-workers, you still wanted to be their equal. Especially if sex was involved you wanted to still be a part of the unit, a part of their team.

Was it so wrong to want a place to belong?

Angrily you wiped the unshed tears as they were too shocked to move. “You’re all so God Damn confusing. Doing shit like this. Getting upset I let Wooyoung touch me, contemplate letting him fuck me, but stopped with you? Won’t let you. You made it so damn clear you wanted me gone at first.”

“Princess-”

“He… he’d take me on patrols sometimes. Or have me come up to the precinct when there was a child in his care. Mingi was… one of the regular ones.” The more he spoke the less you wanted to run, full on here to listen now that he was finally opening up to you. Realizing this, he dropped your arms and lifted your other leg so you were straddling his waist. “My father opened up our home to him. He became my best friend, always over, even skipped school to hide in my room. Dad got him to go to school regularly, to do well, and he did.”

“Don’t Princess me!” You cut off Mingi. “Can you really fucking blame me for this? You had the fucking audacity to get upset over this? I seriously can not with you right now.” Huffing, you turned towards your door. “For the last time, I’ll talk to you when I’m ready to.” With the last bit of anger you walked into your apartment ready to shut the door.

But Yunho was stepping in behind you, locking the door behind him and quickly closing the distance between you. When you reached out to push him away he grabbed your wrists, backed you against the wall and pinned you there. “G-get off me! Fucking jackass!”

Squirming in his hold you ended up bringing your knee up into his crotch roughly, just for him to groan and hold both your wrists with one hand and grab your leg with the other. Slotting his thigh between yours, he slid you further up the wall and pinned you there with his body weight.

He kissed you, shutting up the string of curses leaving your lips and instead resulting in you biting his. He pulled away, muttering your name in a soft plea to calm down. It was the nickname that had you stilling. “Butterfly please- I’m sorry.”

“S-sorry for what.” You stammered out, attempting to make eye contact as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Everything. All of it. For putting up my walls. For all of us. We haven’t been fair to you.” He pulled away just enough to stare you down, a softness there you weren’t used to seeing on his features. “You… remind me of my dad a little. In particular, in the way you’re righteous to your own morals. The justice system is second to you right? What comes first is protecting the people and giving them the justice they deserve.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with this since he brought up his father of all people. You could remember the long list of articles about his father. A good samaritan, a cop who volunteered at schools and children centers and worked with his wife, who was a nurse at children's hospitals, often. He had an amazing track record, and you had a feeling Yunho would be a bit similar. 

Well, the fact he had you pinned up against the wall after forcing himself into your apartment aside that is.

Resting your forearms on his shoulders you took in the sight of him. The vulnerability he was finally letting slip free despite the promiscuous position you two were in. “Found out Mingi was one of those kids often dragged into gang business. The one that died you got all riled up about… that could have been Mingi you know? I think about that a lot. I get angry about that a lot. And you.” He reached up, cupping your cheek and letting his thumb run over the corner of your lips. “You reacted just as he would have. He wouldn’t stop until he got justice. He worked so hard to make the streets safe for kids and you saw how it is now.”

You softened in his hold, remembering clearly how his father had died. Gang violence. What seemed like petty gang violence and was reported as such, you had noticed a pattern. “The Silver Dogs took a hit out on him… didn’t they?” That’s how they resolved the conflict. That’s one of the things you had learned in your time undercover and your research.

Yunho chuckled wryly, bringing his lips to yours, ghosting soft touches but not giving you what your body apparently craved. “You are something, butterfly, having figured that out already. I can see why they’re dead set on you. You fit, more than you realize. More than we like, really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said with a bit of a pout.

He chuckled with a bit more warmth, lips trailing over your jaw to your neck, just under your ear. “You’ll see. Just… promise me you won’t regret it? You’re going to get deeper, and deeper, into our shit. Into this world. Into our unit. And into our hearts. You really want that? Because if not, you're not only going to get hurt… you’ll hurt us. Hurt Mingi, and Wooyoung and San. You care about them right?”

You nodded as you tilted your head back, giving him access. It was astonishing how you melted in his embrace considering you had been angry moments ago, but you supposed that was because he was being vulnerable with you. It felt like he was giving you a piece of him with this information, like he was giving you a piece to the unit. “I do care… I want to be a part of it.”

He sighed heavily, setting your legs down and pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “We want you here too, I promise. Jongho excluded. He’ll warm up soon enough.”

With a huff, you tugged at his hair to pull him away and have him look at you. “Does that just mean for sex, or as an actual partner in this unit?”

His eyes widened slightly but he laughed the next second. “Butterfly… Wooyoung told you we all fuck each other right? It sort of goes hand in hand.”

The image of Hongjoong licking cum off his fingers, accompanied by Wooyoung kissing San, floated through your mind. He did say that but… “All of you? Even sour puss Jongho?”

He shrugged, hands running over your sides. “Well, that’s a little different. He’s sworn off women for one, and two… he really only fucks Yeosang and Wooyoung. The latter in frustration. But this is a partnership, both in the field and in the bedroom. Does that bother you?”

You found yourself grinning up at him. “Surprisingly… no. But that does make you all the oddest detectives I have ever met or heard of. Wooyoung especially since he made the cut through other means.”

“He told you about that?”

“Mhmm. Met his mom too. Oh, should I not be saying that?”

He shook his head. “It’s fine here. With us. It’s proof that we are opening up to you though. Already meeting the parents.” He wore a cheeky grin on his lips as he stepped away, receiving a light slap to his arm from you. “There you are. My butterfly is back.”

Heat rushed up your neck and settled in your stomach. “Will you leave now?”

He gasped over dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “We just had a touching moment and now you want me gone?”

“Mhmm. I’m exhausted and I don't plan on jumping on anyone’s cock tonight. Besides, I’m sure Mingi is waiting for you.” You pushed him gently for the door, glad he was at least moving now.

He stepped out a moment later, Mingi still out in the hall but so was Wooyoung, both wearing solemn expressions. Wooyoung hung up the phone the second he saw you, both of them lighting up at the sight of you.

Yunho smiled over at Mingi and quickly pulled him into an embrace, now pressing their lips together. You laughed, shifting to rest your hand on your hip. “Point proven Yunho.”

Unfortunately they took that as a challenge. Even going so far as to moan your name. It irritated you, caused you to toss and turn and wish that you had taken up Wooyoung’s offer now if only to spite them.

“Are you still upset?” Wooyoung asked from your other side, reaching out for your arm and latching on.

Tearing your eyes from the two giants now making on- seemingly having forgotten you- you turned towards him. “I’m good Wooyoung, why don’t you head home?”

He pouted, glancing over at the two towers as Yunho mumbled things for just Mingi’s ears. “Mm… alright. Just, one more question.”

“Yeah?”

“San wants you to call him. He won’t stop pestering me for details. And uh-” He quickly kissed your cheek. “Call me if you need anything, Goddess, not just to get off.” He was almost shy as he offered it up, which you found endearing.

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed a soft kiss to the mole under his eye. “I will. Go rest. And you-” You turned towards Yunho and Mingi then, “please don’t be too loud.”

You were ready to do so the next day, hearing a knock on your apartment door. You were already reaching out to grab his shirt to pull him in and take him up on his usual offer when you realized that it wasn’t Wooyoung.

Seonghwa stared down at your hand on his mesh shirt, brows knitted together. He didn’t say anything until you quickly retracted your hand and stepped back, rambling apologies. “May I come in?” Quickly you stepped back to let him in, taking in the mesh shirt over a tank top, as well as jeans with an attached half skirt and boots, even his hair and makeup was done differently.

As soon as you shut the door, before you even got a chance to speak he said “We need to talk.”

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