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rutilation · 5 months

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This opening is replete with symbolism.

Flower language has been a recent fascination of mine.

Do you want to make my new hyperfixation your problem? If so, then let's take a deep dive into the first opening before the new one airs tomorrow.

Before I start, here are a couple of things to keep in mind.

While the use of flower language in this show mostly lines up with Japanese hanakotoba, there are still a number of flowers here that hold particular significance within Chinese culture, and thus have additional meanings that don't line up with those from Japan. I’ll be mentioning them alongside the Japanese meanings where I deem it relevant.

The following will contain light spoilers of content from the novels/manga which has not been animated at the time of writing. I'll try to be vague and sparing with it, but there are a few flowers I can't discuss without them.

Past the title card, the opening begins with eight blooming flowers dancing through the frame in rapid succession. These represent the storylines covered by the first cour of the anime in order of appearance, and each can be found in the episode(s) they signify. From the top:

Rhododendron: This plant is all over the first two episodes, so I'm going to cover its appearances before delving into its meaning. In episode one, there are two shots of the buds of this plant, one as Lihua gives birth, and then again as the doctor examines her baby. They're finally shown in full bloom as one of her ladies disregards the branch Maomao used to warn of the toxic makeup. In the following episode, Gyokuyou has seemingly taken a liking to the flower that saved her daughter's life, and a few clusters can be seen in a vase during several shots before Maomao uses them as an example of a seemingly innocuous plant that could cause accidental poisoning, and indeed, if you look closely at the background during the scene with the soldiers, you can see what appear to be rhododendron shrubs. There are actually quite a few different possible meanings for the many granular varieties of Rhododendrons/azaleas. Luckily, the characters said the name of the plant out loud for me: shakunage. So, this is Rhododendron subg. Hymenanthes. In hanakotoba it means dignity and majesty, but also, on account of its poison, danger and caution. Those last two meanings clearly line up with its ominous usage in these first episodes, growing and maturing as the babies grew sicker. But in addition to their function as a warning of danger, I think there's a case to be made that they also represent Gyokuyou herself. As I stated earlier, she starts keeping them after the first episode, and Hongniang later starts growing the closely-related azaleas in the jade pavilion as well. As for how its meanings apply to her, Gyokuyou is regal, magnanimous, and never loses her composure (unless it's at Jinshi's expense lol,) but she's also described by Gaoshun as shrewd and cautious, being unwilling to hire any lady she doesn't absolutely trust, and constantly gleaning information to send back to her family. These all fit with the dual meanings of rhododendron. In Chinese culture, rhododendrons and azaleas represent womanhood and passion, as well as home and a desire for homecoming.

Cotton rose: A type of hibiscus, this represents Fuyou, decorating both her person and her chambers in episode 3. It means 'delicate beauty' and 'graceful lover.' I think these are referring to both her skill in dancing, as well as her affectation of frailty and neuroticism. As far as I could dig up, its unique tendency to change color based on the time of day doesn't have particular bearing on its meaning in either Chinese or Japanese culture, but the story itself uses it as a metaphor for Fuyou hiding her passion, will, and cunning behind a wallflower exterior.

Balloon flower: In hanakotoba, it represents undying love, sincerity, and grace. These grow in the crystal pavilion, adorn the iconography of Lihua's furniture, and likely inform her blue and violet color scheme. Its last two descriptors gesture towards Lihua's style and personality. She's elegant and staid, but she also takes everything quite seriously, and wears her heart on her sleeve. As for the undying love element, I see that as alluding to her love for her son, her agony at his passing, and her hopes of reclaiming that love again through having another child.

Violet: This one actually tripped me up for the longest time. The flowers in the opening looked like hostas to me, but no matter how closely I looked at the backgrounds in this show, I couldn’t find anything along those lines. Eventually though, I caught on that these must be the violets from episode five, even if they’re a different color from those shown in the episode. And also droopier. Anyway, violets mean humility, sincerity, and ‘a little bit of happiness.’ In the episode proper, they are crushed underfoot as Maomao narrates about the lengths she had to go to keep herself safe while growing up in the red-light district, illustrating how even the modest aspirations of an ordinary peasant are in perpetual danger in such a cutthroat environment.

Chinese aster: Daisies and asters are my least favorite flowers to identify. They all look the same. As such, I’m a little less confident about this one, but I think it’s a Chinese aster. The leaves and buds look similar, and the context in which it appears in episode six suits its meaning. As Lishu’s ladies disparage her so-called pickiness, a shot of this flower opens the episode. While the Chinese aster’s meaning changes based on color, white in particular means ‘please believe me.’ I think that speaks for itself

Toad lily: This appears twice during episode eight, where Maomao gets drawn into the mystery of an attempted murder during her vacation. Toad lilies symbolize hidden thoughts and intentions, alluding both to the possible conspiracy on the part of the women of the brothel, and to the fact that Maomao will never really know the truth of the incident, having to content herself with speculation.

Sacred bamboo: This one is easy to miss, because while the plant is in full bloom in the opening, it’s laden with berries in the show proper. This is Nandina, a.k.a. the sacred bamboo, a mainstay of autumn and winter floral arrangements in both China and Japan. It’s considered auspicious, symbolizing a reversal of ill fortune into prosperity--the precise opposite of how it’s presented in episode nine of the show. There, Maomao fiddles with the plant as she contemplates all the instances she’s seen of good fortune being struck down by tragedy, and the prospect of that same sword of Damocles falling upon her head as well, a harbinger of eucatasrophe being used to symbolize straight catastrophe. Also worth noting is the fact that the plant is very poisonous, so much so that it has a reputation for killing any birds which try to eat its berries; I think that bit of trivia might be the inspiration behind the decision to ironically invert its lucky image. In addition to its central appearance in episode nine, it can also be seen in Lishu’s chambers in episode ten, mixed in among the vases of white camellias.

Japanese azalea: These mean passion and steadfastness, alluding, in my view, to Fengming’s devotion towards Ah-duo. Fun fact: did you know that honey made from toxic azaleas, termed ‘mad honey,’ is sometimes manufactured on purpose? It’s not super legal in most of the world, but apparently it can be used as a psychedelic.

After this, we see a panning shot of seven flowers, with the top four representing the high-ranking concubines, and the bottom three representing the high-ranking courtesans. While the first set of flowers grew from buds and flew across the screen, this set consists of still images. If I were to hazard a guess as to why, I'd say that it's because those previous flowers were conveying the movement of emergent stories, while these upcoming flowers portray the relatively static personality traits of individual characters. I'm going to tackle these in reverse order, as the first three flowers to appear are somewhat tricky to talk about.

Peony: This flower represents Gyokuyou, and in addition to appearing in her non-diegetic floral backgrounds, it also decorates the tapestries of the jade pavilion. In Chinese culture, peonies are one of, if not the most, important flowers. They represent feminine beauty, pride, honor, renown, wealth, prosperity, high-status, opulence, and a nobility of spirit. They are considered to be the king of flowers, and were historically only permitted to be grown by nobility. All of these superlatives are likely alluding towards Gyokuyou's status as the emperor's favorite consort, with the best shot at becoming empress.

Balloon flower: See above.

Lily-of-the-valley: This means purity, chastity, humility, and 'happiness will come again.' While the first three all seem to fit Lishu on their face, I find myself curious about the fourth meaning. I'm only partway through the third novel, but if this indicates that, at some point in the future, Lishu finally catches a break, then I'll certainly be happy to see it.

Dendrobium: In China, orchids in general are associated with elegance, refinement, and good taste, which fits with Maomao's description of the garnet pavilion as being beautiful in a minimalist sort of way. They also represent the virtues of an ideal gentleman-scholar: integrity, humility, temperance, and nobility. Furthermore, they are considered emblematic of spring; it, along with bamboo, chrysanthemum, and plum blossom, represent the four seasons. Returning to Japanese symbolism, the flower associated with Ah-duo seems to specifically be Dendrobium nobile. Nobile in particular means 'honest and to-the-point' in hanakotoba, likely alluding to Ah-duo's candid personality, and the fact that she is on casual terms with the emperor.

Regarding the final three flowers, the show itself doesn't explicitly tie any one of them to a particular courtesan--their flowers only appear as a group in episode twelve. But, by contemplating their meanings, and with some help from the characters' wiki pages, we can make some educated guesses.

Yulan Magnolia: This one, I'm guessing, represents Joka. On one hand, I'm kind of dumping her with this because the other two flowers just seem to fit the other two courtesans better, but its attributes nonetheless seem to accord what we know of her character--which admittedly isn't very much. In hanakotoba the yulan magnolia means nobility, sublimity and a love of nature. In China, its pretty similar: purity, nobility, dignity. It's also worth noting that they're commonly planted around Buddhist temples in China, and have been for many centuries, granting them an air of spiritual profundity. Joka is said to be aloof and cold, which is part of her appeal as a courtesan. While chrysanthemums and plum blossoms have a warmer aspect to their meanings, the loftiness of magnolia hews more closely to her characterization. Then there's the matter of her name, which is apparently a stage name. It translates to 'Lady Ka' (or 'Hua,' if you want to go with the Mandarin pronunciation.) Now, the 'ka' in her name is written as 華, and in the story, that character is only permitted to be used by the emperor and his family. So, for her to use it, even as a stage name, is a pretty bold pretense to nobility.

Chrysanthemum: In Japan, chrysanthemums are associated with nobility and the imperial family. In China, they are associated with longevity, endurance, and vitality, on account of their long-lasting blooms that persist late into autumn. I think this is most likely to be Pairin's flower. She's one of the few courtesans who's in her line of work because she wants to be, and is flourishing in an environment where others are desperate and debt-ridden. That covers 'vitality,' and Lihaku can attest to her endurance, if you know what I mean... Moving on, its mentioned in the novels that she's actually in her thirties, but still looks quite young, again harkening to the chrysanthemum's persistence.

As far as symbolism is concerned, chrysanthemums do seem to fit her character better than magnolias. But, something that gives me pause is her name, which means 'white bell,' on account of yulan magnolias being white and having a bell-like shape. I still think it's most likely that the chrysanthemum, and not the magnolia, belongs to her, but it was too notable a coincidence to not at least mention.

Plum Blossom: We can safely assume this one refers to Meimei, as her name is written with the character for plum. As plum trees are among the earliest to bloom each year, and will even bloom while snow still covers their branches, both China and Japan associate them with resilience, hope, inner-strength, and renewal. We don't know much about Meimei either, but my impression of her is that she seems to be the nicest and most even-keeled of Maomao's sisters.

Following this parade of showy flowers, we finally glimpse the emblem of our protagonist, Oxalis corniculata, the creeping wood sorrel, downcast and huddled amidst the underbrush of a forest. Whereas the other flowers we've seen thus far are primarily ornamental (even if some are also edible/medicinal,) wood sorrel is herbaceous and weedy, and is unlikely to grace any vases, wreaths, or arrangements. If it were spotted in a noble's garden, it would likely be uprooted, but to the peasant who finds it growing in a ditch, it's a tasty snack.

In hanakotoba, wood sorrel means joy, 'shining heart,' and 'a mother's love.' All three descriptors, I believe, are relevant to Maomao's character. Despite her flat affect, Maomao has a strong passion and sense of joie de vivre driving her through life. Those further along in either the novels or the manga will recognize 'a mother's love' as (somewhat ironically) gesturing towards her complicated relationship with her mother. As for 'shining heart,' I think that will become apparent as we go further through the opening.

But, before we do that, I'd like to take a moment to examine the moments when wood sorrel appears in the show itself. Thus far, by my recollection, it has appeared in episodes one, three, and twelve. The opening shot of the first episode is of a wood sorrel, informing the viewer in no uncertain terms that this is Maomao's flower, (in case the opening was too subtle.) In the third episode, several wood sorrels dot the field where Fuyou sits with her lover, symbolizing how Maomao has aided and protected them. In episode twelve, a single wood sorrel is tucked inside a lavish bouquet of her sister's flowers, a visual gag paralleling them fussing and fawning over her.

Returning to the opening, Maomao is shown contemplating a subtle glow in her closed hands while a reflected, sunlit version of herself glances back at her. Then, as all the previous flowers fall away, as Maomao casts the light up into the air, its glow illuminating her face, the wood sorrel finally stands upright, and blooms in full.

Now is a good time to mention a relevant characteristic of creeping wood sorrel: it only blooms in direct sunlight. When crowded by other plants, it curls in on itself, closing both its flower and leaves. This serves as a clear metaphor for Maomao's personality; under most circumstances, she seeks to be invisible and unobtrusive, but when she's in her element, she commands attention and respect.

Following this, we have her magical girl-esque transformation sequence, with her outstretched hands forming the shape of a blooming flower as she dances through a whirl of yellow wood sorrel petals. She then bows down in imitation of the flower, taking the light back into her chest (there's that shining heart I mentioned earlier,) as she dissolves into the stoic, unassuming version of herself once more, closing out the opening. (Jinshi who?)

I'd like to end this analysis with an observation. While the real wood sorrel exists at the perpetual mercy of outside forces, Maomao is not merely reacting to a light source that exists beyond her control. The light exists within her, and she chooses when it will shine down for all to see, and when she will hide it away in the depths of her heart. To those who've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading.

#the apothecary diaries #i like being mean to a certain someone #but i will note that i'm familiar with the interpretation that the lyrics of the op are written from his perspective #and i would agree that that reading has merit

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parkerslatte · 6 months

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Deals With Our Devils || Chapter One

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: none

Part Summary: Y/N gets a task from the Queen of Vassuryn and ends up in the one place she has avoided for two centuries.

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200 Years Later

Y/N stood guard outside Prince Floris’s bed chambers. It was typically how she spent her evenings until it was time for dinner. For most others, standing around in front of a door would be a taxing activity, but for Y/N it was the complete opposite. The door opened and there was a tap on Y/N’s shoulder and she tried to fight the smile forming on her face.

“You know I’m working,” said Y/N, adjusting the sword at her hip.

“But I’m bored,” Floris said dramatically. “And you can guard me much better from within my bedroom."

Sapphire rolled her eyes. “You know what happened last time.”

“My mother won’t even come to check on everything today, she’s too busy planning a trip,” Floris replied, stepping further out of his room. “And besides, she loves you, she wouldn't care if you were doing your job or not.”

“I still like to please,” Y/N said, looking up and down the corridor.

The Prince’s bed chambers were situated in the most beautiful part of the palace, in Y/N’s opinion. The ceiling was made from glass and was clear enough to see the evening sky. Shades of pink, purple and orange mixed together to make the most perfect sunset. There had always been something about a sunset that relaxed Y/N. It made her feet at ease.

“Well you would please me if you dropped the guard act for a moment and shared a bottle of wine with me,” Floris said. “And it just happens to be the wine you like.”

“Oh, the enchanted one?” Y/N asked, lowering her defensive position.

Floris snapped his fingers. “That’s the one.”

Y/N looked down the hallway and back to Floris, who stood leaning against the door smirking. “Oh, fine. But only for ten minutes.”

“That’s what you said the last time,” Floris laughed before allowing Y/N to step into his room.

Floris’s bed chambers seemed to be a small palace within itself. The large floor to ceiling windows at the opposite end of the room opened to reveal a balcony overlooking a flowing waterfall. Y/N could hear the sound of the rushing water from where she stood. The rest of the chambers were fit for a prince. A large canopy bed resided toward the right side of the room, currently messed up from Floris’s adamant refusal to tidy it up. His excuse was always that he would sleep there again so there was no point in tidying his carefully arranged pillows only to mess it up again.

There was a seating area in front of a fireplace large enough to be its own living room, decorated with ornate furniture Y/N could only imagine having in her own chambers.Of course her own bedroom held a sense of regality but it still reminded her that she was only a guard.

Floris slumped down into an armchair near the balcony doors, the bottle of enchanted wine in his hands. “I don’t see why you need to always stand guard outside of my door, anyone wanting to kill me could easily sneak in through these doors.”

“It’s what your mother requested,” Y/N replied, taking a seat in the chair next to him. “And I abide by those rules.”

Floris rolled his eyes. “It won’t kill you to break a rule one time.”

Y/N poured the wine into two golden goblets. “Your mother has shown me so much kindness since I’ve been here. I wouldn’t wish to break any of her orders.”

Floris took a sip from his wine. “You won’t disappoint her if you take one night off.”

With a gentle hand, Floris held up the goblet of wine. Y/N had poured herself one but she hadn’t moved to pick it up from the table. Her gaze fixated on the goblet in Floris’s hand before slowly travelling up until she met his eyes. There was a hint of mischief in them, there always was. Y/N took the goblet from Floris’s hand and took a sip of it. Immediately when it hit her tongue, Y/N let out a content sigh. It tasted so good.

Floris sat back in his chair with a small smirk. “Y/N breaking rules? I like it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and took another sip of the wine. “Shut up.”

The more Y/N drank, the more relaxed she began to feel. No longer was she sitting in the chair with a straight back and rigid posture. Now she was simply sitting with Floris on the soft rug that was underneath their feet, her head resting on his shoulder. The bottle of wine was long gone and the remnants of it were in their goblets. Y/N swirled the remaining liquid around while Floris finished his off, placing the now empty goblet beside him.

“Are you going to finish that?” Floris asked, looking into her goblet at the mouthful of liquid still residing inside.

Y/N lifted her head from his shoulder. “Yes I am.” She brought the goblet up to her lips and finished off the drink, savouring every last drop.

Once both goblets were empty, Y/N and Floris slowly made their way out onto the balcony. The now cold night air hitting them. Y/N was glad that she had opted to wear her jacket that morning. Floris wasn’t so lucky as he only wore a thin white shirt, and although he could have easily gone back into his bedroom and retrieved a jacket, he only rested his head on Y/N’s shoulder and stared ahead at the waterfall.

“What do you think my mothers plans are?” Floris asked after a while of silence.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Y/N confessed.

“She had been planning this trip for months and she had never spent this long for an alliance before,” Floris explained.

Vassuryn wasn’t a well known kingdom, in fact it was rather small and easily glossed over on a map. With minimal allies and a small army, it was rather vulnerable. For the past century, the Queen had been slowly creating alliances and most of them proved to be successful within a couple of months. However, the ally she was seeking out proved rather difficult to contact for a large majority of the time. Y/N didn’t know who the ally was and neither did Floris, the queen had been quiet about the whole thing.

“She may just be having trouble,” Y/N said, trying to reassure her friend. “We don’t know who she is hoping to ally with, it could be a kingdom three times the size of Vassuryn for all we know.”

Floris sighed. “I only wish I could be of more help.”

Y/N rested her head on top of his. “I know.” She didn’t have too many words of comfort though she knew that her presence was enough of a comfort for him.

With the sun completely set, Y/N lifted her hand and whispered to Floris. “Watch this.”

Y/N concentrated on her hand before she could feel the power within her come to the surface before finally breaking free. The blue surges of power caressed her arms before falling a ball of light. Y/N simply threw it in the air and it hovered above them, casting the balcony in light. Floris lifted his head from her shoulder and looked up at the small ball of pure power.

The light cast on his handsome face, illuminating his light brown skin. Y/N had always known that Floris had looked more like his father than his mother from the portraits around the palace. The only features he seemed to have taken from his mother were her deep brown eyes and soft curve of his mouth that was a complete replica of his mothers.

“I completely forget you can do that,” said Floris.

Y/N smiled at the small ball of power. It didn’t take her much concentration to control her powers anymore, in fact it took minimal effort. Y/N was proud of how far she had come.

“I sometimes do as well,” Y/N admitted.

The two continued to sit there in a comfortable silence as the power illuminated them, sheltering them from the shadows. It wasn’t until there was a knock on the door when the power slowly flickered away until nothing remained.

“Floris,” The Queen’s voice was muffled through the door. “Is Y/N in there with you?”

Both Y/N and Floris got to their feet and entered the bedroom. Warmth immediately encased the two of them as Y/N simply waved her hand and a roaring fire grew in the fireplace. Floris opened the door and the Queen stepped inside. She was wearing a simple gown and she was void of any jewellery, except her wedding band that Y/N had never seen her without.

“Y/N,” The Queen said, thrusting a piece of parchment into her hands. “I have a task for you.”

“What task?” Y/N questioned as she slowly unfolded the parchment.

“A task which will help us gain more allies,” The Queen responded.

Y/N shared a look with Floris before she looked down at the letter in her hands. As soon as her eyes landed on the familiar writing, her heart sank.

***

Azriel’s back hit the mat as Cassian stood above him, a triumphant grin on his face. “Are you even trying?”

With a roll of his eyes, Azriel stood to his feet, rolling his shoulders. “Of course I’m trying.”

“Is that why you have that distant look in your eye?” Cassian remarked.

Azriel glared. “I am focused.”

Cassian’s only response came from him sweeping his leg and knocking Azriel back down onto the mat. He huffed as he laid limp, not even trying to throw up his facade. Cassian looked down at Azriel with sympathy as he held out his hand, helping the shadowsinger to his feet.

“I know what you are feeling,” Cassian said, clapping Azriel on the shoulder. “I miss her too.”

Azriel didn’t respond as he shrugged off Cassian’s hand and stepped over to the side of the training room. It wasn’t as if Azriel felt this way all the time, he barely ever thought about her anymore. The only reason she was on his mind was because it was the two hundred year anniversary of her disappearance. The last time Azriel had felt this was exactly one hundred years ago.

Out of his family, Azriel was the one who held onto the most hope of her returning. For the days following her disappearance, he would scour all over the Night Court simply looking for any trace of her. He couldn’t focus on anything else except her, he needed to know where she was. He needed her to be safe.

However, over the years, that hope he carried in his heart gradually diminished and soon after that, Azriel stopped looking for her. Then he slowly moved on and never particularly thought about her.

“It’s been two hundred years,” Azriel said. “It shouldn’t matter anymore.”

Cassian sat down next to him. “She was still part of our family, Az. And it doesn’t help that we never knew what happened to her.”

Azriel sighed. “I still hope that nothing bad happened to her.”

“Me too,” Cassian agreed.

There was a small tap against Azriel’s mental shields and he lowered them, allowing Rhys into his mind.

“You and Cassian are needed in my office now,” Rhys spoke into his mind.

After relaying the message to Cassian, the two changed into more practical clothing and left the training room. If Rhys were to send him on a mission, Azriel would be thankful. Anything to get her off his mind today would be a blessing.

When they entered Rhys’s office, Rhys and Feyre were sitting behind his desk and there was someone sitting in the chair opposite him. While Feyre looked at Rhys with a somewhat confused expression on her face, Rhys looked as if he had seen a ghost. His body was still and his eyes hadn’t moved from the figure sitting in the chair opposite.

Cassian stepped in the room first and Azriel trailed behind him. “What did you need us for?” the shadowsinger asked.

As the figure in the chair moved their head to the two new presences in the room, time seemed to slow down. Azriel would recognise that very specific shade of hair anywhere. As the figured face turned to him, Azriel felt his heartbeat increase. His mouth was dry and he struggled to form any words the moment their eyes met. Beside him, Cassian was staring wide-eyed and, much like Azriel, was unable to form any words.

It had been two-hundred years since Azriel had last seen that face yet now looking at her, it felt like it had only been a series of months. His mouth opened and closed to try and find the words he desperately wanted to say but nothing came out. He was in a state of shock.

The door to Rhys’s office was opened once more as Mor and Amren piled in. Mor seemed out of breath as her eyes fixated on the female sitting in the chair.

“Y/N?” Mor said, the first one out of the group to speak. “Is that really you?”

Y/N rose from her chair and faced everyone. Azriel’s gaze was still fixated on her as she surveyed everyone. As soon as her eyes met Azriel’s, Y/N lingered on him for a brief moment longer, her eyes flickering down to his torso and back to his face before moving along the line to look at Cassian. Azriel folded his arms across his chest as he looked down to the floor, unable to keep looking at Y/N.

“Yes,” she finally spoke.

Her voice was the same as Azriel remembered it. It still held the melodic tone that he had spent many nights falling asleep to. Azriel didn’t even know how much he had missed that voice until this very moment.

“It’s really me.”

Taglist:

@lostinpages13 @thelov3lybookworm @mell-bell @daisydark @captainsbaby @mischiefmanagers @scooobies @a-frog-with-a-laptop @venussdovess @radishsworld @fussel9913 @luvmoo @marscardigan @lizziesfirstwife @starlumiere @melygarcias @esposadomd @azrielswhore @sleepylunarwolf

• strike through were unable to be tagged •

#azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

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animalcrossingshowdown · 7 months

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Regal:

Sloppy:

This is round 2 of a tournament to determine the best Animal Crossing furniture set.

Colour variations under the cut:

#animal crossing #sets

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vermutandherring · 8 months

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By chance do you have a list of all the cc in your builds? I'm obsessed with the old style you make but can't recreate it with my limits

You just reminded me that some time ago I wanted to make a post where I'd share links, divided into historical/aesthetic styles. Mostly because I often can't find the original mods and their artists lost in the corners of the internet. I may come back to this idea later. I currently have about 40 GB of mods that I've been collecting since the game came out, so I'm not sure I can name absolutely everything I use. But I can give a list of those artists whose works I use in my buildings all the time.

Here we go:

• TheJim07 (furniture, fine arts, building stuff)

• FelixandreSims (building stuff and furniture)

• ArtysSims (fine arts)

• Cliffou29 (furniture)

• Lili's Palace (furniture, building stuff)

• Anachrosims (building stuff and furniture)

• Regal Sims (furniture and fine arts)

• AnnaDeDanann Stories (furniture)

• Stereo-91 (building stuff, furniture)

• The Marble Mortal (furniture, fine arts, building stuff)

• ChâteauSims (furniture, fine arts, building stuff)

• NaviDesings (furniture, fine arts)

• Zx-ta (The Sims Medieval conversions)

• Thesensemedieval (game conversions, medieval themed cc)

• ShinoKCR (Art Nouveau - 1 | 2 | Art Deco - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | French Quarter - 1 )

• Pinkbox AnYe (dark academia, shabby chic, cottagecore, french/provence chic, deco food)

• Kerrigan House Designs (victorian, dark academia, vintage, food/cooking deco, cottagecore, shabby chic, themed sets)

• Sims4Luxury (dark academia)

• sims41ife (different vintage objects)

•Milja Maison (dark academia) Inactive. You can find their sets on the internet

• Hydrangeachainsaw (different vintage objects)

• Lady Moriel (magic stuff/game conversions - Dishonored set 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |)

• Mara45123 (TES: Skyrim conversions)

• Etheric (Resident Evil | Devil May Cry conversions)

• Natalia Auditore (vampire, gothic)

• Syboulette (gothic, dark academia, vintage chic, themed sets)

• HyggeSims - Bruxa CC Set

• Jennisims (vintage, retro, antique decor)

That's not all CC I use in my builds, but most of it. Some of it is maxis match, other is high poly. There are standalone objects and mods that require meshes so you must pay attention. There are many mods whose authors are inactive, their blogs have been deleted, and their collections are scattered all over the Internet so I can't share them. But you always can find interesting stuff yourself.

Hope it helps~

#sims #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #simblr #ts4 simblr #sims 4 cc #ts4cc #ts4 cc finds #sims 4 custom content #ts4 historical #sims 4 vintage #sims 4 historical #sims 4 gothic #ts4 dark academia #sims 4 dark academia

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no1frogfan · 1 year

Text

Haikyuu boys you meet while pet-sitting 3

Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Kita, Aran x afab reader

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MDNI, p in v, mirror sex, (very) light degradation, not really breath play but 1 tiny neck squeeze, anal sex, threesome, oral (m & f receiving), creampie (pretty much always), the boys smell good (ALWAYS)

Word count: ~1.5k

Note: Not huge on Oikawa normally, but had a lot of fun writing him here. Happy early birthday to Aran <3. If you enjoyed this, you may thank ix for sending me Miyuki bulge art that turned me into a mess of horny goo

the orig boys | more boys

You hear a loud thump followed by muffled cursing from the other side of the wall. A few minutes later, there’s a knock on your door. Standing there is a very pretty brown-haired man with a pout on his face. When you tell him your friend’s not home and you’re just cat-sitting, he introduces himself as Oikawa Tooru and asks you for help instead. “I’d normally ask Iwa-chan (you have no idea who that might be), but he has the audacity to be out of the country right when I need to hang up these curtains,” he whines. First, you’re stunned by how handsome he is, then, you’re floored by the glamor of his apartment, but nothing prepares you for his bedroom — sure, there’s a huge bed, elegant furniture, and a literal chandelier, but none of these catch your eye as much as the two walls covered floor-to-ceiling in mirrors. You’ve never understood mirrors in the bedroom, but to each their own, you suppose, as Oikawa rambles on about the curtains — color or fabric or weight or whatever.

He insists that you stay for a drink, or two, or three as he regales you with tales of his professional volleyball career in Argentina and how he’s back in Japan for good now, sitting way too close to you on his fancy leather couch, thighs almost touching, one arm slung casually behind you. He’s much sweeter and funnier than his bratty demeanor first led you to believe, and you let yourself be charmed by him, let your senses be filled by his warm brown eyes, easy laughter, spiced cologne. Because there’s only one thing on your mind since you helped him hang those curtains up: what would it be like to be filled with him? And your breathing shallows, thighs clenching at the thought.

Ever observant, Tooru doesn’t miss the signs, which is how he knows you’d respond eagerly when he leans in to bite at your neck, guiding you to the bedroom. And now as he splays you open in his lap, you understand the appeal of the mirrors. You don’t just hear and feel the squelch of your sopping cunt every time he plunges up into you, you see every tremor of your body on full display, you see his hands palming your breasts, you appreciate the sheer size of them as he wraps his fingers around your neck and gives you a light squeeze. You see your pussy lips trembling, your cum and his running down his balls and pooling into a dark wet stain on the sheets. You see his chin resting on your shoulder, forehead sweaty, lips moving as he purrs into your neck about how good you’re taking him, how you’re being such a perfect little fucktoy just for him. You’re exhausted after so many rounds, but when you try to lean your head back to rest on him, he tsks, wrapping one calloused hand around your jaw to yank your chin back down. “Ah ah, eyes on me,” he orders as he reaches down to slap your throbbing clit, “watch me make this slutty pussy cum one more time.”

“Come here, c’mon boy!” You bend over and slap your thighs invitingly, trying to act like everything’s fine. Everything’s normal! You’re just playing around in the park! But Bacon sees through your lies. He knows you’re just trying to leash him, and he’s decided that being chased is way more fun than being caught. He runs off again with a muddy splash and you straighten up with a groan. This is your fault, really. You should’ve been more careful clipping his harness on this morning, but he really needed to go outside and you were basically still asleep as you pulled on some sweatpants and shuffled out. You’re just starting to accept that today will be miserable when you hear a husky “Need some help with Bacon?” You stiffen as a tall man with spiky black hair approaches you, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. He introduces himself as Iwaizumi Hajime, your friend’s neighbor. Ah, so that’s why he knows Bacon.

By the time you two catch him, he’s rolled in 3 more mystery puddles and has basically become a foul swamp creature. Iwaizumi very kindly carries him back to your friend’s apartment and helps you bathe him too. After you both clean yourselves up, you cook him lunch as a small thanks and the two of you get to chatting. He tells you he’s an Olympic trainer. So that’s why all you want him to do is pin you down and fuck you senseless. You wet your lips as your mind wanders, your eyes raking over his broad shoulders and burly thighs. He clears his throat, that smirk tugging at his lips again when he asks you if you “Like what you see?”

Oh, you definitely do. If you could have a single coherent thought right now, you’d thank your lucky stars as your knees are pinned against your ears and your shoulders are pressed awkwardly against the back of the couch, a continuous whine of “oh fuck— fuck— oh my g— fuck Hajim—mm so good—” spilling out from your mouth as a wall of Iwaizumi looms over you. He angles himself with each thrust to hit that spot inside your clenching pussy that has your eyes rolling back. He teases one finger against your asshole, gingerly slipping it in when he hears you moan, pushing you over the edge for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s obviously not just the athletes themselves that have Olympic-level stamina because Iwaizumi is immediately ready to go again, pressing the tip of his cock against the entrance of your ass. You shudder and wiggle against him, letting out a pleased sigh as he presses inside, his eyes locked on yours for any sign of discomfort. There’s none as you encourage him, the slick of your combined cum dripping down and easing him in. He thumbs your clit, helping you adjust to the size of him before he starts to move slowly, struggling to maintain a slow pace as you spasm around his cock. His thrusts get faster and sloppier despite himself, “Fuck not so tight—,” he chokes out as your legs begin to shake and you writhe beneath him on the brink of another orgasm.

You don’t think you can get any luckier when you find out your temporary neighbor is Ojiro Aran. He heard you were housesitting and came around on your first day to offer his help should you need it. (You’re normally not into goatees, but Aran might have singlehandedly changed your mind.) Between his soft smiles and his habit of drinking coffee shirtless on the balcony every morning, you’re already feeling blessed every day. But it turns out, you can get luckier, and you do, when suddenly a second shirtless man joins him. “Kita Shinsuke, I’m visiting for a few days.” Between the two of them, the number of wet dreams you have suddenly skyrockets.

You learn they both used to play on the same volleyball team, and that Aran now plays professionally while Shinsuke is a rice farmer. Someone else they used to play with is now on the Olympic team, and Kita is in town to attend a practice game. They invite you along despite your protests that you know nothing about volleyball, patiently explaining the basics during the match. All of you end up having a ton of fun. The three of you grab drinks and takeout from a famous onigiri restaurant you’ve been dying to try (somehow they know the owner there too) and unwind together after a long day. Aran and Shinsuke are both so easy to talk to that you start to feel too comfortable, too honest, and apologetically confess to having way too many sex dreams about them.

It certainly seems like your apology is accepted as they press their hands and lips all over you, pinching your thighs and gently mouthing at your chest. Aran’s stare almost burns you as he watches Shinsuke grip your thighs, holding you down on his face while his tongue skillfully coaxes another orgasm from you. Your vision clouds as you ride it out, babbling about how much you want them both inside you. They would never deny you. Aran gently presses you forward so you’re bent over Shinsuke, eagerly lapping at the salty precum dripping from his tip. Aran positions himself behind you. He eases into your dripping pussy, you moan through a mouthful of Kita, and Kita whines into your cunt. The sensations are overwhelming now as Aran drives into you, fingers bruising your hips as his balls slap against you, driving Kita’s cock further down your throat. Kita’s mouth and tongue busy themselves with sucking and lapping at your clit. You feel Shinsuke buck up into your throat, load after load of hot cum gush into your mouth while Aran rails you, a shuddering groan vibrates against your folds building the tension in your core again. “Just like that baby,” one of them groans out between clenched teeth as you tip over the edge one more time.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi smut #kita shinshuke #kita x reader #kita smut #ojiro aran #aran x reader #aran smut #ojiro aran smut #froggy scribbles

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thedensworld · 8 months

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On Scene | Yoon Jeonghan

Pairing: Detective!Jeonghan x Writer!reader (ft. Junior Detective!Soonyoung)

Genre: Action, Crime, Comedy, Angst, Romance

Synopsis: Yoon Jeonghan, once a dedicated police officer, finds himself embroiled in a web of corruption and is subsequently transferred to a unit that is shunned by his colleagues. Just when he thought his life couldn't get any more complicated, a murder case emerges, and it appears to be connected to his ex-girlfriend.

Author Note: this haven't been proofread, you might found typos and grammatical error. Reader is she.

Since the manipulation incident that marred Jeonghan's record years ago, he found himself transferred to the last place any police officer wanted to be: Unit 10, specializing in domestic case. The reason was painfully clear – it was where they stashed away the 'undesirable' officers, far from any significant cases. It's like being exiled to the Island of Misfit Toys, only with less glitter and more restraining orders. Jeonghan couldn't quite label every missing pet he'd tracked down as a 'case'; it felt more like passing the hours than true investigative work.

Jeonghan couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. He'd gone from potential super-sleuth to the guy who mediates couple over who gets the sofa in a messy breakup. It was a far cry from chasing down notorious criminals, but hey, at least he was saving furniture from an untimely demise.

His colleagues in the 'real crime' units would swagger in, regaling the office with tales of high-speed chases and epic takedowns. Meanwhile, Jeonghan was learning the delicate art of diffusing family feuds with nothing but a clipboard and a well-timed dad joke.

There were days when he felt more like a referee in a dysfunctional game show than a police officer. He'd wade through tangled disputes over who left the toilet seat up and who finished the last of the cereal. It was like a twisted episode of "Law and Order: Household Edition."

Yet, amidst the chaos, Jeonghan discovered a strange kind of satisfaction. He was the unsung hero of household havoc, the Sherlock of sock-stealing roommates. He brought order to the chaos, one misplaced remote at a time.

So, while his colleagues chased after masked bandits and international spies, Jeonghan patrolled the treacherous terrain of domestic disputes, armed with a sense of humor and a hefty supply of marriage counseling brochures. And as he stood amidst the wreckage of yet another epic laundry detergent argument, he couldn't help but grin. After all, someone had to keep the peace in the war zone of weekend warriors and sibling rivalries.

No, in contrary, everyone. He didn't enjoy every second of it at all.

Well, karma finally caught up with Jeonghan, and it wasn't pulling any punches. After years of playing fast and loose with evidence and dabbling in a little graft on the side, it turned out his best buddy on the force was the one to spill the beans. Talk about a double whammy – not only did he get a serious case of red-faced embarrassment, but he lost a pal in the process.

And if that wasn't enough, the universe decided Jeonghan needed another dose of cosmic payback. His ex, the one and only former flame, broke up with him without so much as a hint of an explanation. Talk about adding insult to injury! Suddenly, he was single, friendless, and jobless faster than you could say "karma's a real stickler".

Jeonghan's muttered curses could probably be heard from Mars every time he recalled the trainwreck that had been the past three months. It was like a twisted sitcom, where the universe was the ruthless showrunner and he was the hapless protagonist, stumbling from one catastrophe to the next.

As Jeonghan sat at his desk, wallowing in regret for all the missteps he'd taken, his lone senior – the only other soul sharing this forsaken office – made a grand entrance. And who should trail in behind him but the one and only Soonyoung, his former junior from the 2nd unit of the Criminal and Violence division.

Jeonghan practically catapulted out of his chair, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the comrade he'd spent seven years alongside. "What brings you here?!" he blurted out, silently praying that his internal alarms were just a false alarm. Soonyoung was no slouch when it came to policing; having him end up in this backwater felt like casting Tom Hanks as the office janitor. It was a crime against justice itself.

Jeonghan couldn't help but feel like he was witnessing a talent show on a cruise ship, with both himself and Soonyoung reduced to performing card tricks for the tourists. It was a spectacle, but not in a good way. Placing Jeonghan here was already like using a Lamborghini as a glorified paperweight, but now, with Soonyoung in tow, it was like throwing in a Ferrari for kicks.

"I requested to be moved here, sunbae," Soonyoung chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jeonghan's jaw nearly hit the floor. It was like watching a penguin declare it had always dreamed of being a flamingo. He blinked, momentarily lost for words. "You... requested this?" he managed to sputter out, disbelief dripping from every syllable.

Soonyoung grinned, his expression unapologetically cheeky. "Yep, I figured that i haven't learned enough from you." he quipped, casting a theatrical gaze around the modest office space.

Jeonghan couldn't decide if he should laugh or stage an intervention.

"Well, you've certainly right on that," Jeonghan finally replied, unable to suppress a chuckle.

As the three of them stood there, an odd trio in a sea of mediocrity, Jeonghan let out a nervous laugh. It was the kind that bubbles up when you're faced with the sheer lunacy of life The station might not know it yet, but it had just become the backdrop for the most unconventional buddy cop sitcom of the century.

"Did you find the corby that was assigned two days ago?" Yang Beomjae, a senior with nearly two decades of police service, inquired, extending a brochure featuring a forlorn-looking dog named Jennifer.

Jeonghan let out an exasperated sigh, momentarily closing his eyes, as if hoping to teleport himself out of this never-ending parade of missing pets. South Korea seemed to have developed a sudden epidemic of disappearing furry friends. It was as if he'd been drafted into some sort of secret 'Pet Detective Division' without his consent. He couldn't help but wonder if his badge was equipped with a hidden GPS tracker for runaway pets. This was beginning to feel like a full-time gig, and he was pretty sure he didn't sign up for this in the police academy.

He took the brochure from Beomjae with a resigned nod, already mentally preparing for another round of 'Where's Waldo: Pet Edition'. Jennifer the missing corby was just another puzzle piece in this bizarre pet-sized jigsaw. The poor dog probably thought it was auditioning for some canine version of 'Amazing Race'.

Jeonghan glanced around the office, half expecting to find a secret stash of 'Missing Pet Bingo' cards tucked away somewhere. He couldn't help but marvel at the sheer dedication of the pet-owning populace to misplace their furry companions. If only they put this much effort into remembering their anniversary dates.

With a wry grin, he set off on the latest leg of his unexpected pet-finding adventure. Jennifer, here he came – detective extraordinaire, now specializing in the clandestine world of runaway corbies.

"I'll come with you!" Said the very loyal junior of him, one and only Kim Soonyoung.

"It's a whole different ball game," Jeonghan remarked, steering the car towards the potential location of Jennifer. "No late-night stakeouts with a lot of suspect profiling and plenty of downtime for laughs. That's pretty much the drill in this unit." He regaled his three-month rollercoaster of an experience to the wide-eyed rookie, Soonyoung, who listened intently, though a hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes. Jeonghan secretly hoping to instill some regret in the younger officer for joining this supposedly undesirable unit.

After they parked, Jeonghan stepped out of the car, the block of apartments standing like a sentinel miles away from Jennifer's last known location. Memories of a similar case flashed in his mind - a friend of Jennifer's vanished, only to be found in this very vicinity, being fed by a benevolent fifty-something woman. As they strolled, the tranquility shattered by a sudden scream, and there she was: the familiar woman, who'd taken up the noble task of nourishing the neighborhood's furry inhabitants, now sprinting out of the building.

The sight struck Jeonghan, momentarily caught between amusement and concern. He glanced at Soonyoung, who seemed to be processing the scene with wide eyes and a barely contained grin. "Welcome to the wild ride, Soonyoung," he said, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Buckle up, it's never dull in this unit."

"Help! Help!" The woman's panicked cries reached Jeonghan and Soonyoung, sending a jolt of urgency through them. Jeonghan swiftly approached, pulling out his badge, a beacon of authority.

"Ma'am, I'm a police officer. Take a deep breath and tell us what happened," he reassured her, his voice steady.

The woman's words tumbled out in a rush, "My neighbor, I-I found her... blood... and..." Jeonghan didn't wait for the sentence to finish, already in motion. He gestured for Soonyoung to follow, their training kicking in.

"Soonyoung, call for assistance from the station," Jeonghan directed firmly, trusting in his partner's quick thinking. The urgency in the air was palpable, a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of their work.

Once Jeonghan had donned his gloves and protective shoe covers, he stepped onto the scene. His heart clenched in his chest as he beheld the gruesome sight: a familiar woman, bathed in her own blood, with several stab wounds marring her body. It was his former girlfriend's mother, your mother.

Time seemed to slow as a flood of memories and emotions washed over him. He pushed them aside, focusing on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to let personal ties cloud his judgment now. This was a crime scene, and he was a detective sworn to uphold justice.

"What's happened, sunbae?" Soonyoung stood beside him, scrutinizing the victim's condition. It was clear she had been murdered around eight hours ago. Jeonghan observed the other officers diligently executing their roles, gathering evidence while the forensics team prepared to process the victim. He took a deep breath before attempting to call you, fully anticipating that you might not answer. As expected, there was no response. He resorted to sending you a series of urgent texts, conveying that he had something crucial to discuss. Nearly half an hour passed before you finally returned his call.

"Hey, what's wrong? Something's happened?" Your voice carried a cheerful tone, blissfully unaware of the devastating news that awaited you.

"I need you to brace yourself for what I'm about to say, okay?" Jeonghan implored, his voice carrying the weight of the somber revelation he was about to deliver. After a heavy sigh, he mustered the strength to speak the words, "Your mom was found murdered just an hour ago. I'm here at the scene right now."

There was a palpable silence on the other end of the line, broken only by the sound of your slow exhale, as if you had been holding your breath since the moment he uttered those shocking words. The weight of the news hung heavy in the air, a painful truth that now bound both you and Jeonghan in shared sorrow.

"Where is she?" Your voice came out in a hushed, trembling whisper. Jeonghan gently relayed the location, the somber apartment building where your mother had made her home for several months.

"She's been processed by the forensics team, but we need you to discuss authorizing an autopsy," he explained, his own voice tinged with empathy and understanding.

"I'll be there," you replied, determination and grief tightly woven into your words.

As the call ended, Jeonghan took a moment to collect himself. He braced for the meeting that awaited him, knowing it would be the first time he'd see you in three long months. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, a mixture of grief, determination, and a shared resolve to seek justice for your mother.

Jeonghan hadn't laid eyes on you in what felt like an eternity. He'd been tip-toeing around the boundaries you'd set after the breakup, which he was convinced were more convoluted than a Rubik's Cube in a tornado. As you approached, your hair danced like rebellious spirits in the zephyr, adding an extra touch of magic to your already enchanting presence. Even in a moment like this, you were a vision. Jeonghan, for a second, had the wild urge to sweep you into a tight embrace, but alas, duty called, and he was stuck in the middle of work. Soonyoung's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you. He knew you were Jeonghan's former girlfriend, but the whole situation had him more puzzled than a cat trying to understand calculus. He glanced at the victim data, then it clicked – you were the victim's daughter. He shot a glance at Jeonghan, a mix of encouragement and disbelief dancing in his eyes. It was like watching a soap opera, but with less dramatic background music. Jeonghan wrestled with a storm of emotions, a tornado of regret and longing whirling within him. If only he could find the right words to bridge this canyon of misunderstanding and boundaries. But alas, words seemed to have taken a vacation without sending a postcard.

The air was thick with tension as you finally stood face-to-face with him after three long months. Your first words cut through the heaviness, a desperate plea for answers, "Where's she?"

Jeonghan's gaze shifted to the forensic ambulance, a somber acknowledgment of the grim reality. "She's currently being processed," he began gently, his voice carrying the weight of the situation. "I'm afraid you can't see her right now. We need your consent for an autopsy. There are signs indicating potential violence."

You bristled at the notion, your principles steadfast in opposition. The thought of subjecting your mother's memory to such an invasive procedure was a bitter pill to swallow. In your heart, you longed to remember her in the light that was true to her essence, not tainted by the brutality of her passing.

Jeonghan, acutely aware of your emotional turmoil, presented a compelling argument. His words were carefully chosen, emphasizing the greater good that could come from uncovering the truth. He knew the delicate balance he walked, aware of your sensitivity and the fragility of your heart.

Your voice trembled with apprehension as you asked the question that weighed heavily on your mind, "It's gonna hurt, isn't it?"

Jeonghan felt the weight of the answer he needed to provide. How could he possibly encapsulate the complexity of the situation? Should he be brutally honest about the intensity of the process, or should he offer reassurance that your mother would feel no pain?

Just as the silence began to stretch, Soonyoung stepped in, offering a perspective that hadn't crossed Jeonghan's mind. "Rather than hurt, I think your mother would want the world to know the truth," he affirmed, his words striking a chord.

You, grateful for the support, implored for a moment to collect your thoughts. "Can you give me time to think about it? I promise it won't be long. But so much is happening and I can't think straight," you pleaded, directing most of your gaze towards Soonyoung, who seemed to radiate a comforting presence.

Soonyoung nodded, his eyes filled with empathy. "Take all the time you need, Y/n. I know this is an incredibly tough moment for you. Would you like to sit down? Maybe some water?" He gently guided you towards a nearby bench, leaving Jeonghan standing alone to process the whirlwind of events that had unfolded.

Jeonghan's voice held a weariness that spoke volumes. "I don't want to take this case, sunbae," he confessed, sinking into his seat, trying to make himself appear as inconspicuous as possible.

Beomjae let out a resigned sigh, clearly hoping for a spark of the old Jeonghan he used to know. "I thought you were missing your old self, that's why I accepted this case."

Frustration radiated from Jeonghan as he roughly tugged at his own hair. The situation before him was a tangled mess, a cruel reminder of the life he used to lead. He yearned for the days when he pursued real criminals, not navigating the intricacies of Jennifer and her companions. This case, though, was an entirely different beast. It was your mother who was the victim, and the thought of facing you, speaking to you, without stumbling over his own words and appearing foolish was a daunting prospect.

He knew he wasn't foolish, not by a long shot. It was the effect you had on him, the power you held to unravel his composure with just a glance. Jeonghan was acutely aware that your presence had the uncanny ability to turn him into someone he scarcely recognized, a vulnerability he wasn't accustomed to.

Jeonghan's conviction rang through the room, his resolve unwavering. "It's different. I don't want to do it!" he asserted, his eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and frustration.

Suddenly, Soonyoung sprang from his seat, a burst of eagerness propelling him forward. "I'll do it, sir. I'll work on it hard," he declared, eager to seize the opportunity.

Jeonghan's ire flared at Soonyoung's impulsive offer. "I thought you wanted to learn from me? If I'm not taking the case, then neither are you," he scolded, his words stern.

Soonyoung's shoulders slumped, a pout tugging at his lips. "It's just... I feel bad for Y/n. I understand you can't take it because she's your ex, so I'll do it on your behalf," he explained, his voice carrying a hint of remorse, which only fueled Jeonghan's irritation.

"It's not about that! I— i just don't feel up to handling such a heavy case right now. I'm still adjusting here. And besides— why is our unit being tasked with cases from Criminal and Violence? We're domestic division!" Jeonghan vented his frustration, his discontentment with the situation bubbling to the surface.

Beomjae interjected, his voice calm but authoritative, shedding light on the matter. "You haven't heard, have you?" he questioned, capturing their attention. "Her daughter is a suspect. They found her fingerprint on the weapon. Its status is domestic homicide."

Jeonghan and Soonyoung were left dumbfounded, their minds struggling to process the revelation. It felt as though the air had shifted, reality tilting on its axis. "The results came in hours ago," Beomjae added, handing them the report. Jeonghan's eyes scanned the words, his disbelief echoing in the repeated refrain of 'no way.' There was no conceivable reality in which you could be the suspect. It was inconceivable.

"Since we found the evidence and the suspect, i don't think it's a heavy case."

Jeonghan couldn't help but feel the tangled mess of emotions threatening to engulf him. It was a whirlwind of complications he never imagined he'd face. First, you'd walked away from him three months prior, leaving behind a void of unanswered questions. Now, here you were, seated before him, a suspect in your own mother's tragic demise.

He let out a sigh, the absurdity of the situation almost too much to bear. In some twisted, cosmic joke, fate had decided to bestow upon him this absurd cop sitcom scenario. The irony wasn't lost on him, and he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. But then, there you sat, an enigma he couldn't begin to unravel.

You were, without a doubt, one of the most unpredictable people he'd ever encountered. Your actions had always been a dance of spontaneity and caprice. Yet, the notion of you being connected to such a heinous act, especially involving your own mother, was beyond anything he could have fathomed. It was a curveball that left him reeling, struggling to find his footing amidst the chaos of emotions that swirled within him.

The atmosphere in the room was tense as Soonyoung settled beside Jeonghan, fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to transcribe every word that fell from your lips. Jeonghan, still grappling with the surreal nature of the situation, took a deep, weighted breath before beginning the interview.

"Kim Y/n, 34 years old, a writer, graduated in criminology," he recited, each word a heavy acknowledgment of the facts before him. He couldn't help but berate himself internally; your background in criminology only added a layer of plausibility to the notion that you might be involved in the tragic incident. It was as if the pieces were aligning in a way that painted a damning picture.

The room hung heavy with tension as Jeonghan began the interview, his words etching the grim reality into the atmosphere. His gaze bore into you, your silence speaking volumes, a stark contrast to the weight of the accusations.

"Park Haerim, your mother, was found dead on July 23rd in her apartment," he stated, the words landing heavily in the room. "We found a knife with her DNA on a pile of trash in front of your apartment, with your fingerprint. Do you have any word on that?"

The silence that followed was deafening, a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch on for eternity. The weight of the evidence was a damning testament to the gravity of the situation, hanging over the room like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. Jeonghan's gaze remained fixed on you, a silent plea for an explanation, a denial, anything to break the silence that threatened to suffocate them all.

Jeonghan's voice carried a weight of solemnity as he began the interview, the gravity of the situation palpable in the air. His gaze shifted to you, your silence a stark contrast to the weight of the accusations.

'Say something, Y/n. Say something,' he pleaded internally, his eyes silently urging you to break the silence. He knew that in the absence of a strong alibi or evidence of your innocence, the mounting evidence could easily paint you as the perpetrator. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach.

As the seconds stretched, Jeonghan silently prayed for you to find your voice, to refute the damning sentence that hung in the air. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the truth and the potential consequences pressing down on everyone present.

Jeonghan's questions hung in the air, each word pregnant with expectation and dread. The room was stifling, the silence pressing in from all sides. Soonyoung could feel the weight of it, an oppressive force that seemed to squeeze the air from his lungs.

Your silence was deafening, a void that threatened to swallow them all. It weighed heavily on Jeonghan, his eyes fixed on you, imploring for a response. His voice grew more insistent, edged with a desperate hope that you would say something, anything to break the deadlock.

"Where were you when the incident happened?" he pressed, the question hanging like a pendulum. You took a deep breath, but still, no answer came.

Jeonghan shifted tactics, trying a different approach. "How many times did you stab Park Haerim?" he asked, his gaze unwavering. Your eyes met his, a look that held a thousand unspoken words.

Then, without warning, Jeonghan stood abruptly, a palpable frustration radiating from him. "Let's take a break," he muttered, his voice strained. He made his way to the exit, his steps heavy with the weight of the situation. The room seemed to exhale as he left, the tension dissipating, if only slightly. Soonyoung let out a silent breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his gaze flickering briefly to you before returning to the floor. The room was heavy with uncertainty, each breath a struggle against the suffocating atmosphere.

The whispered admission halted Jeonghan in his tracks, his eyes locking onto you. "I was at home," you confessed, your voice barely louder than a breath.

"You were at home?" he echoed, seeking confirmation, and you nodded, a fragile glimmer of hope flickering in your eyes. "Writing," you added, your words a hesitant but crucial addition to the narrative.

Jeonghan's gaze shifted to Soonyoung, a silent directive to continue recording your testimony. He knew the weight of this moment, the pivotal importance of your alibi. "Do you have anything that can prove your alibi?" he inquired, his tone tempered with cautious optimism.

You nodded, a newfound determination in your expression. "I didn't leave the house for two days. I was calling my friend, Lee Chan, and he visited my house that night. I was with him until the morning." The details spilled from your lips, each word a lifeline in this maelstrom of uncertainty.

Jeonghan's mind raced with questions, a whirlwind of curiosity and concern. Each query was a piece of the puzzle, a glimpse into a part of your life that he hadn't been privy to.

1. Why did you call him?

2. Why did he stay in your house?

3. What was your relationship with Chan?

These questions danced on the tip of Jeonghan's tongue, eager to find their way into the conversation. But he knew now wasn't the time. The priority was to verify your alibi.

"Could we check your alibi?" he asked, his voice measured. You nodded in response, your determination unwavering. "You can check my apartment's CCTV, my writing history. I never left home," you explained, offering a straightforward account of your whereabouts.

A part of him yearned to immediately reassure you, to say, 'I believe in you,' based on the history you shared. He knew you intimately, understood the rhythms of your life. Yet, the weight of the case and the complexities that lay ahead left him hesitant.

He let out a sigh, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. Regret gnawed at him, a persistent thought that maybe he should've pursued Jennifer's case instead. The path ahead was uncertain, and he was acutely aware that every step he took would have far-reaching consequences.

"Okay, we're going to check on your alibi."

Jeonghan's jaw tightened in frustration as he watched the news, the headline a harsh indictment of you. "Popular Crime Writer Has Killed Her Own Mother." The words blared from the screen, painting a damning picture. He couldn't bear to hear any more, swiftly turning off the television. The label of 'suspect' felt like an unjust brand searing into his mind.

'Suspect! Still a suspect,' he repeated in his thoughts like a mantra, a silent plea for the truth to emerge.

Soonyoung approached him, report and phone in hand. He handed over the report detailing the activities captured by the apartment building's CCTV. Jeonghan's eyes scanned the pages, each frame a snapshot of your movements leading up to the incident. The images painted a picture of normalcy, of someone going about their daily routines.

Soonyoung pointed out the key moments, the times your door had been opened. Each entry was a piece of the puzzle, a glimpse into the timeline of events. Jeonghan meticulously examined the records, each entry a crucial piece of the puzzle. The timestamps and descriptions painted a vivid picture of your movements in the days leading up to the incident.

"Two days before the incident," he mused, studying the image of you carrying groceries. It was a mundane scene, but it held significance in establishing your routine.

"Chan's visit," he noted, his eyes tracing the time you spent with your friend. It was a confirmed alibi, a crucial point in your defense.

"And when you left after receiving information about your mother," he murmured, the gravity of the situation settling in his chest. That moment, that choice, was a turning point in the narrative.

Each entry was a window into your world, a chronicle of your actions. Jeonghan knew that within these records lay the truth, waiting to be uncovered. The weight of responsibility bore down on him, urging him to piece together the fragments of evidence and find the answers that could exonerate you.

Jeonghan absorbed Soonyoung's explanation, frustration simmering beneath the surface. The broken CCTV felt like a cruel twist of fate, a critical piece of evidence just out of reach.

"How about Chan's alibi?" Jeonghan queried, seeking reassurance in the face of the mounting doubts.

"He confirmed that they were together that night, so there's no way Y/n was coming to her mother's house," Soonyoung assured, presenting yet another piece of the puzzle. The weight of relief settled on Jeonghan's shoulders. It was a crucial confirmation, a solid alibi that could potentially shift the tide.

"Also, Y/n was last seen visiting her mother a week before the incident. That's the last time they seemed to see each other," Soonyoung added, his voice steady. Jeonghan absorbed this information, the timeline of events slowly coalescing in his mind.

The revelation about the CCTV being under maintenance on the night of the incident was a frustrating setback, but Jeonghan knew they had made progress. With Chan's alibi and the knowledge of your last visit, they were building a case that could potentially exonerate you.

Jeonghan's mind raced, formulating a plan of action. The truth was out there, waiting to be uncovered. He was determined to find it, to clear your name and bring justice to both you and your mother. However—

"Argh! My head is about to explode!"

Soonyoung jumped, startled by Jeonghan's sudden outburst. He quickly turned to his superior, concern etched across his face. "Sunbae, are you okay?" he asked, worry lacing his voice. The stress of the investigation seemed to be taking a toll on both of them, but seeing Jeonghan in such distress was particularly alarming.

Soonyoung furrowed his brows, concern deepening as he met Jeonghan's gaze. The whispered admission caught him off guard. Jeonghan was known for his unwavering determination and resilience, especially when it came to solving cases. Seeing him like this, openly expressing exhaustion, was a rare occurrence.

"Sunbae, maybe you should take a break," Soonyoung suggested gently, recognizing the toll this case was taking on his superior. The weight of the investigation, coupled with the emotional turmoil surrounding you, seemed to be wearing Jeonghan down. It was a stark reminder of the human cost of their work in law enforcement.

"You stay here, I'll go for a walk," Jeonghan stated, his tone tinged with an air of quiet determination.

True to his words, he set off on a walk. However, he couldn't fathom how his own legs had led him to the detention facility where you were being held as a suspect. It was midnight, the facility cloaked in shadows, with only a few weary officers manning their posts.

Seeing you there, sitting with a book in hand, was surreal. He couldn't believe his eyes. You appeared strangely composed, far from the image he'd conjured in his mind.

"I thought you'd be frightened or anxious, being held like this," he confessed, approaching you cautiously. Your gaze lifted from the book to meet his, a weak smile playing on your lips as you closed it.

"Done checking my alibi?" you inquired, getting straight to the point. He nodded slowly, finding his way to a seat near the entrance of the cage.

A heavy silence settled between you, the weight of the situation palpable. Then, finally, Jeonghan found his voice.

"I'm sorry for your mom," he murmured, the words heavy with sincerity and regret. They hung in the air, a feeble attempt to offer solace in the face of such a devastating loss.

"There's so much going on, and suddenly I'm a killer. I can't even process it," you confessed, a wry chuckle escaping your lips at the absurdity of the situation.

Jeonghan listened, his mind still processing the newfound information he had about your medicine consumption. Finally, he mustered the courage to ask, "Why do you take the medicine?"

You chuckled in response, acknowledging his discovery. "It helps regulate my sleep schedule," you explained casually. When he inquired about your sleep troubles, you nodded. "Not everyone can find rest as easily as you, Jeonghan," you noted with a gentle tone.

"It's not a remedy for a terrible illness, is it?" he probed, seeking to understand the reasons behind your medication.

You didn't directly respond. Instead, you opened your book and pointed to a sentence. "I've been reading this since I was brought here."

Jeonghan's eyes fell on the words, "Time is a gentle stream that gradually wears away the hardest stone." He looked to you, a silent question in his gaze.

You took a breath, the weight of your situation evident in your words. "I saw a news about me. People think I killed my mother when I have no idea how all of this happened. I want to tell, to scream, to announce that I'm not the killer. But would it make a difference? Would it be anything more than a waste of time?" you wondered aloud, your voice tinged with frustration and helplessness.

"So, you're just going to wait and let time unveil the truth?" Jeonghan sought clarification.

You nodded, your conviction clear. Jeonghan couldn't contain his concern. "You shouldn't do that! If you truly are not the killer, explain it to people! Clear up the misunderstanding. Your words hold so much power, sometimes more than you realize," he implored, his disagreement evident in his tone. The urgency in his voice mirrored the weight of the situation.

You chuckled at his words, a lightness in the sound that contrasted with the gravity of the situation. "Why are you getting angry?" you inquired, your eyes meeting his with genuine curiosity. Jeonghan found himself without an immediate answer. He couldn't quite pinpoint why his emotions were running so high. It was as if a whirlwind of concerns and fears had taken root within him.

As he grappled with his own emotions, he questioned himself, 'Why are you getting angry?' The inner dialogue mirrored the external one.

"It's just— you were on the brink of being sentenced. If you hadn't spoken up during the interrogation, you could have been handed a 15-year sentence!" he tried to explain, the weight of the near-miss still fresh in his mind.

"But I won't, right?" you responded, your voice calm but the implications chilling.

Your words sent a shiver down Jeonghan's spine. He rose from his seat, his gaze unwavering as he looked at you one more time. "Tomorrow, during the interrogation, I want to hear everything that is the truth from you," he stated with a determination that matched the gravity of the situation.

While being interrogated, you were not alone today. Your lawyer, Hong Joshua, had come to keep you company before your 48-hour detention came to an end. The interrogation had gone smoothly, at least as far as Jeonghan could tell. You answered all of his questions and vehemently denied any accusations of murdering your mother—something that brought a sense of relief to Jeonghan.

After asserting your innocence and claiming that the actual killer was still at large, you were finally released from your detention. As you, Joshua, and Jeonghan stepped out of the interrogation room, there was a palpable sense of lightness in the air. However, Jeonghan knew that his work was far from over. He immediately tasked Soonyoung with initiating a request for a thorough investigation into the case.

"Thank you so much for coming," Jeonghan expressed his gratitude to Joshua, a friend of both him and you, who had come at his request since you had initially declined legal representation.

"It's a pleasure," Joshua replied, his gaze shifting to you. "I'm truly sorry about your mother. Please don't hesitate to call me if you ever need assistance, alright?" he offered, his words carrying a warm sincerity. He then gently embraced you in a show of support.

"Thanks, Josh," you replied, mustering a weak smile. The weight of the situation was still very much present.

As Joshua stepped away, leaving you and Jeonghan alone, he turned to you with a sense of urgency. "I need your help," he implored, his eyes searching yours.

He explained his request before you could interject, acknowledging that while you were no longer an active member of the police force, he valued your insights immensely.

Before Jeonghan could delve further into his plea, the audible growl of your stomach served as a distraction. He looked at you with concern, his brow furrowing. "Don't tell me you haven't had a meal?" he asked, worry lacing his words.

You nodded hesitantly, admitting, "My last meal was two days ago." It explained the weariness and weight loss that was noticeable to him.

Without hesitation, Jeonghan guided you to his car and drove you to the nearest restaurant. As you waited for the food to arrive, he attempted to pick up the conversation from earlier, though he did most of the talking, noting how your words had left an impression on him.

"Your words linger in me," he confessed, his gaze locked onto yours. "You mentioned how your fingerprint could be anywhere, but you were at home," he recalled from your earlier discussion at the police station.

"If anyone knows your background well, being a former top profiler—ouch! Okay, okay, I'll stop," he protested playfully as you swatted his hand in mock reproach. "What I mean is, those who know you would never think you could be the killer," Jeonghan explained.

"But you were hesitant, weren't you?" you astutely pointed out, catching him off guard.

Jeonghan sighed, conceding, "I was... I admit, I did consider that you might be involved. Don't blame me! No one can predict what's going on in your head, Miss Writer."

"If only—if only you hadn't confessed to being at home and we hadn't checked your alibi, you might not be here, enjoying your meal so comfortably. Thank you," he said sincerely, first to you, and then to the waitress who brought your food.

As she left, he continued, "You might be in court right now, and I wouldn't have to work my ass off to find the real culprit. I was actually starting to enjoy my simple domestic cases."

Your puzzled look prompted you to ask, "What do you mean? Did you switch to the Domestic Division?" He nodded, indicating with his fingers that he had been in the unit you once ended up in before leaving to become a writer.

Suppressing a laugh, you responded, "Really? Since when? Is Beomjae sunbae-nim still there?" He confirmed your question with a nod.

"Next week will mark my fourth month," he added.

Returning to the matter at hand, Jeonghan sought your assistance once more. You shook your head, declining his offer. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm done playing the role of a real detective, Jeonghan. And honestly, I don't think you need my help. You're doing an excellent job. Besides, Soonyoung is a capable partner, isn't he?" you explained, firm in your decision.

Jeonghan found himself taken aback by your choice of address, 'Jeonghan'. It had been years since you called him that—back in the rookie days of being an officer, nearly a decade ago. In private moments, it used to be 'babe' or 'love' between just the two of you. The shift didn't go unnoticed, and it stirred his curiosity about why you had decided to end things.

"But still, it's your mom's case," Jeonghan murmured, trying to find a way to understand your perspective.

You chuckled, a touch of irony in your laughter. "Don't you dare try to gain my empathy. I wasn't planning on authorizing an autopsy until my fingerprint turned up on the knife. I was just going to move on and live my life in peace."

Jeonghan scoffed, unable to resist a teasing remark. "You talk like you only live for months. Why choose a peaceful life when you can savor a taste of chaos?" he countered.

"Like mediating break-up couples about who gets to keep the house?" you playfully teased, earning a groan from Jeonghan. "Thank goodness we don't have to deal with that. There are already too many cases like that," he remarked, realizing the irony of his words a moment too late. He glanced at you, half-expecting a knowing look, but you simply continued to eat your food, unfazed by his slip of the tongue.

Sometimes, Jeonghan realized, he tended to talk too much.

"Babe?" Jeonghan's voice broke the morning stillness, sensing the absence of warmth beside him. He hurriedly made his way out of the bedroom, drawn by the sound emanating from the bathroom. As he pushed open the door, concern etched on his face, he found you hunched over, struggling through a bout of vomiting.

He stepped in, a comforting presence, offering a steadying hand on your back and gathering your hair away from your face. Despite his gentle efforts, you insisted, your voice a soft mumble, "It's gross."

"It's okay. Do you need anything? Can you make it to the couch? I'll assist you," Jeonghan offered, his worry palpable.

Once settled on the couch, he hurried to fetch water, gently tilting the glass to your lips. He studied you, his gaze filled with both concern and curiosity.

"Are you alright? Is something bothering you?" he inquired, his voice laced with worry. You simply shook your head.

"I think I must've eaten something off last night. My stomach's not too happy about it," you explained with a faint smile.

The next day, the same scenario unfolded. Morning and night, you found yourself battling waves of nausea. Jeonghan couldn't help but worry.

"Do you really think it's fine? Maybe we should consider going to the hospital," he suggested, concern etched in his features. You shook your head, assuring him that a hospital visit might not be necessary.

"I'm open to a check-up, though. It's been a while since we had one, hasn't it?" you proposed.

"I'm okay with that. But for now, get some rest. I'll come back tomorrow, alright?" Jeonghan said, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and then your lips. With one last worried glance, he left for his night shift.

Jeonghan didn't return home for the next three days, only sending a message that he'd be back once he wrapped up his work. When he finally arrived, he found you peacefully asleep in bed. He took a quick shower before joining you, hoping to catch up on some much-needed rest.

However, his slumber was abruptly interrupted as you suddenly pulled away from his embrace and hurried to the bathroom, your body wracked with another bout of vomiting. Concerned, Jeonghan swiftly followed, taking care of you as best he could. He prepared a soothing mint tea, something you had mentioned you kept handy in case of further discomfort. Sitting beside you on the couch, he finally voiced the worry that had been gnawing at him.

"You've been going through this for nearly a week now. Do you really think you're okay?" he gently asked, his eyes filled with concern.

"It's just my stomach acting up lately. I think it might be my irregular eating habits," you explained, attempting to reassure him.

"No, love. I mean... is this normal? All of this... I mean... are you... are you pregnant?" Jeonghan finally mustered the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind for days.

You shook your head, meeting his gaze with a reassuring smile. "No, I'm not. I took a test, and it came back negative. I even went to the doctor yesterday," you assured him.

"Then what's wrong? Why have you been experiencing this?" he asked, concern etched on his face. You sighed softly, a hint of pain in your voice, "I think I might need to see a doctor. It's starting to hurt." You gently rubbed your stomach, and Jeonghan felt a pang of helplessness wash over him.

"Would you like me to accompany you tomorrow? I can take a day off," Jeonghan offered, his eyes filled with concern. As he expected, you shook your head, insisting on going alone. He nodded, respecting your wishes, though his worry for you lingered.

The memory of the night three months before the breakup was still vivid in Jeonghan's mind. The slow unraveling of the relationship, like a frayed thread that couldn't be mended. Jeonghan, consumed by his demanding job in preparation for a promotion, found himself growing distant, while you were engrossed in the revisions and release of your upcoming book. The gap widened, and in just three months, a nearly six-year relationship began to crumble under the weight of miscommunication and emotional disconnection, at least from Jeonghan's perspective.

After two weeks of being largely absent due to work, Jeonghan returned home, half-expecting not to find you in your usual spots around the house, absorbed in your own tasks. However, that night was different. He discovered you sitting on the couch, tears streaming down your face, body trembling. He'd seen you emotional before, but never like this – it was a raw, heart-wrenching display of sorrow and despair.

Approaching you cautiously, Jeonghan inquired softly, "Baby... What's wrong?" He wanted to offer comfort, but when you pulled away from his touch, he was taken aback. It was unlike you to avoid him.

"No, stop," you pleaded through tears.

Confused and hurt, Jeonghan couldn't understand. "Why? What happened? Am I doing something wrong?" He reached out for you again, determined to provide comfort.

"Don't... Stop it," you mumbled, struggling to evade his grasp.

"Tell me! What's wrong?!" Jeonghan's frustration boiled over.

"Let's break up," you whispered, the words shattering something deep within Jeonghan. He needed to be sure, to hear it again, worried that perhaps he'd misunderstood.

"Tell me a reason why you... suddenly, want to break up?"

"I fell out of love. I don't love you anymore."

"What? Out of the blue, after six years – out of the blue, you fell out of love? Tell me! Be honest with me? What's wrong?"

"I'm being honest?"

"It's not because you're pregnant, right? And you don't want to face me because my family is pretty conservative. Are you pregnant?"

"No! I'm not pregnant. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not pregnant!"

The weight of the moment hung heavily in the air, both of you grappling with the reality of what was unfolding.

"Tell me once again. Why?"

"I don't love you anymore. Let's break up."

Jeonghan finally caught a glimpse of the mysterious man, the suspect who had killed Park Haerim. He was seen discarding the knife in a trash bin near your apartment building. Frustratingly, the car's blackbox only captured the man's back before he vanished into areas not covered by the CCTV.

With this newfound evidence, Jeonghan was able to confirm that you were not the perpetrator behind Park Haerim's murder. The focus shifted towards apprehending this mysterious man, prompting a thorough search by Jeonghan's team.

In the ensuing days, Jeonghan was immersed in monitoring the CCTV footage from the day of the incident, hoping to uncover any additional leads. It was during this intense scrutiny that Soonyoung unexpectedly approached him.

"What is it?" Jeonghan inquired, his eyes fixed on Soonyoung who seemed visibly uneasy.

Soonyoung's fingers danced nervously, grappling with the weight of what he was about to reveal. "It's not directly related to the case," he began, causing Jeonghan's brows to knit in confusion. Yet, knowing Soonyoung's tendency to leave him astounded, he held his questions.

"I debated whether to keep this to myself, but I don't think I can," Soonyoung confessed, taking a seat across from Jeonghan and producing an envelope from his jacket.

The hospital logo on the envelope caught Jeonghan's eye, and his heart quickened. Your name adorned the front. Jeonghan's curiosity mingled with a growing sense of trepidation.

"I discovered this during our investigation at her house. I assume you haven't seen it," Soonyoung ventured.

Jeonghan studied Soonyoung's face, searching for any hint of what was to come. The seal on the envelope gave way to Jeonghan's careful touch, revealing the contents within. His eyes scanned the words, and the air seemed to still around him. Gastrointestinal cancerous tumor, grade II. The date on the report sent a jolt through him—it was issued a mere week before your breakup.

The room felt charged with a palpable mix of disbelief, concern, and an urgent need to understand. Jeonghan's gaze shifted from the report to Soonyoung, his emotions swirling within him. The weight of this revelation settled heavily on his shoulders, knowing that you had faced this diagnosis alone.

"Why didn't she tell me?" Jeonghan's voice wavered with a mixture of disbelief and worry. He couldn't fathom the pain you must have endured in silence.

"When I read that, it struck me that she probably didn't want you to know, considering... well, it's cancerous, right? And it can be life-threatening," Soonyoung explained, his voice laden with empathy.

Jeonghan's mind whirred, trying to process the weight of Soonyoung's words. "What are you trying to say?" he queried, a touch of urgency coloring his tone.

Soonyoung's voice took on a somber note. "This could be the underlying reason she felt so hopeless after her mother's tragic end," he murmured, the implications sinking into the room.

The revelation hit Jeonghan like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the shadows of the past few months. 'She was preparing for the worst... for herself.' The realization clenched at Jeonghan's chest, stealing his breath.

He shot up from his seat, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. This was why you had chosen to end things, sparing him from the pain of a potentially devastating future. It was a selfless act, but Jeonghan couldn't help but feel a profound ache in his heart.

In a flurry of emotions, Jeonghan dialed your number repeatedly, his concern growing with each unanswered call. Texts went unanswered, and a feeling of dread settled over him. He couldn't shake the urgency to see you.

As he approached your apartment building, he was still trying to reach you. Lost in his worry, he collided with someone in his haste, the phone slipping from his grip. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, his apology rushed before he hurried up the stairs to your floor.

Jeonghan pressed the doorbell insistently, knowing you could hear it. The loud chime had often been a point of contention for you. He called out your name, his voice filled with worry, but there was no response.

In a desperate bid, he hoped that the password was still the same - your anniversary date. Fumbling to enter it, the lock clicked open, and he hurried inside. The darkness greeted him, and he quickly located the light switch. As the room flooded with light, his heart sank at the sight before him.

There you were, lying weakly on the couch, a hand pressed to your stomach which was stained with blood. Jeonghan's eyes widened in horror, fear coursing through him.

"Y/n!" Jeonghan rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he assessed your wounded stomach. It was a stab wound, and the sight filled him with dread. You were still conscious, your voice a weak whisper.

"Hold on, please..." Jeonghan's voice trembled as he dialed the emergency number, urgently requesting immediate medical assistance.

"It's Chan.." Your whisper cut through the tense air, and Jeonghan's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"He wanted to kill me too.." You continued, your words coming out in strained breaths. Fatigue was starting to claim your consciousness.

"No, no, no! Stay with me, okay? Baby..." Jeonghan's voice cracked with emotion. He could feel your breaths growing heavier, and he pleaded with you to keep fighting, gently trying to coax your eyelids open.

"Baby! You can do it, okay! You're strong.. And you have to stay awake, alright? I'm right here with you." Tears streamed down Jeonghan's face, his voice desperate and filled with worry. Seeing you in this state was a pain he couldn't bear.

"It hurts.." You whispered, your voice strained with pain. Jeonghan nodded, his heart breaking for you. "I know, bear with me, okay? Take a deep breath, the medic is on their way. Please stay with me.."

Your trembling hand reached up to his cheek, brushing away the tears that fell. "I love you... I love you, Yoon Jeonghan.." The whispered confession sent a sharp pang through Jeonghan's heart. He held you tighter, feeling you grow weaker in his arms.

"I love you too, baby.. Please, stay with me." Jeonghan's voice trembled, a plea for you to hold on. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

As Jeonghan could hear the sound of ambulance and police sirens approaching, he scooped you up and carried you out of the house. He rushed down the stairs, desperate to get you treated as soon as possible.

"Help her, please. She's losing so much blood," he pleaded with the medic they encountered in the building.

Jeonghan met Soonyoung once they were outside the apartment complex. Soonyoung's eyes widened in shock when he saw Jeonghan covered in blood. "It's Lee Chan, he attempted to kill her. I saw him earlier on the stairs. He must still be around here. Find him!" Soonyoung swiftly directed the officers to search for Lee Chan.

Jeonghan accompanied you in the ambulance, his hand holding yours tightly as the medical team worked quickly to stabilize you.

"She has gastrointestinal tumor. There might be internal bleeding as well," Jeonghan informed the medic. As you received a blood transfusion, you began to regain consciousness. Your fingers moved slightly, and your eyelids fluttered open.

"Miss, I want you to blink your eyes if you can hear me," the medic instructed, but you didn't respond. Meanwhile, Jeonghan felt the grip of your hand tighten, and he heard you whisper his name.

"I'm here, baby. I'm always here," Jeonghan reassured you, gently rubbing your hair. Your eyes seemed heavy, but they focused on him. You mumbled something, though it was inaudible due to the respiratory device.

"Stay with me, okay," Jeonghan whispered in your ear, his grip on your hand never wavering.

"I love you," he heard you whisper, and Jeonghan nodded, his gaze locked on yours. "I know, babe. I always know. Stay with me, okay?"

You murmured more words, "be happy," before your eyes closed, and the pressure of your hand on Jeonghan's began to ease.

Jeonghan stood outside the sterile hospital unit, his clothes still bearing the haunting stains of your blood. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead seemed to flicker, casting an eerie glow on the sterile white walls. The passing footsteps and hushed conversations of hospital staff seemed distant, as if Jeonghan existed in a separate world altogether.

Inside that unit, you had fought a battle against the odds. The surgeons worked tirelessly, navigating the complexities of your condition. The room hummed with the controlled chaos of a medical procedure, each member of the team a skilled conductor in a symphony of life-saving efforts.

For Jeonghan, those moments outside felt like an eternity. His mind raced with thoughts of what could have been. The fragility of life, the fine line between presence and absence, weighed heavily on him. He couldn't help but replay the events in his head, each moment etched vividly in his memory.

As he waited, every passing second seemed like a gift, a silent acknowledgment of hope and gratitude. He longed for the moment he could see you again, to hear your voice and feel your warmth. The stain on his clothes, a stark reminder of the reality he almost faced, served as a somber emblem of the fragility of life.

In the midst of that sterile, fluorescent-lit corridor, Jeonghan's heart beat in rhythm with the machines inside your unit. The passage of time was marked by the soft chime of the elevator and the muted footsteps of nurses. And through it all, he held on to the promise of seeing you again, a promise that hung in the air, tangible and intangible all at once.

Your surgery went well. You had lost a significant amount of blood, and there was internal bleeding, which made the operation challenging for the medical team. Jeonghan waited anxiously outside your hospital room, still in the same clothes. The memory of almost losing you just hours ago weighed heavily on his mind.

Beomjae, accompanied by two other officers, approached Jeonghan, offering to take over his watch. "I'll do it here. You go home and freshen up. I'll call you as soon as she wakes up," he insisted. But Jeonghan sat there in silence, unable to respond to his senior's suggestion.

Taking a seat beside him, Beomjae leaned back in the chair, reminiscing about the time when you both shared the same unit three years ago, before your resignation. "I didn't know you are her boyfriend. She used to talk about you a lot," Beomjae remarked, his words tinged with a sense of realization. "I remember she once rushed home after sleeping in the office for two days, saying her boyfriend would be back after a week. It all makes sense now."

Jeonghan turned to his senior, a question lingering in his eyes. "Did she ever say anything bad about me?" he quietly asked.

Beomjae considered for a moment. "Not really bad, just... complaints, maybe? She used to complain that you were hardly ever home. You live together, right? It happens in a lot of relationships these days, I've heard."

"But things are better now, right? You're not as tied up in this unit anymore," Beomjae continued, trying to offer some reassurance.

"We actually broke up before I got transferred," Jeonghan revealed, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

A heavy silence hung in the air. Beomjae nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "So that's why you were hesitant about taking on Park Haerim's case. It has been a shock for me, discovering she was the victim's daughter."

In that pregnant pause, Beomjae and Jeonghan sat in solemn understanding, the weight of the situation settling between them. Jeonghan's resolve was evident as he shook his head, his eyes filled with determination. "I don't think I could ever leave her," he declared, the strength in his voice resonating with unwavering commitment. It was a statement that held a depth of emotion beyond words, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you. The air seemed to hang heavy with the weight of the moment, as if fate itself were holding its breath. Jeonghan's unwavering dedication painted a poignant portrait of his love for you, a love that transcended the boundaries of time and circumstance.

Beomjae's voice was a mix of concern and sternness as he continued, "Look, I understand you care about her, but you'll be no good to her like this. You need to clear your head and come back strong. Trust me, she'll need you at your best."

He motioned toward the exit. "Go home, clean up, and get some rest. I'll keep an eye on things here. We'll update you as soon as she wakes up."

Jeonghan hesitated for a moment, torn between his desire to stay and the practicality of Beomjae's advice. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded and headed towards the door, grateful for Beomjae's support and understanding in such a trying time.

As Jeonghan entered his apartment, a sense of detachment washed over him. It was as if he was operating on autopilot, his body moving without conscious thought. The familiar surroundings of his home felt strangely foreign, each step a blur.

The scalding water of the shower offered a harsh contrast to the numbness that had settled over him. It was a jarring awakening, the heat searing his skin and bringing him back to the present moment. The burning sensation seemed fitting, a physical echo of the emotional turmoil he had just experienced.

His eyes clenched shut, blocking out the world, but the images of the night's events were etched into his memory. The sight of you, weak and bleeding, haunted him. Tears mingled with the water, a silent release of the pent-up emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

Regret hung heavy in the steam-filled air, a bitter taste in his mouth. The decision he had made three months ago, to let you go, now felt like a gaping wound. He replayed the scene in his mind, wondering if he could have fought harder, if he could have been the support you needed. The thought of you facing cancer alone, out of a misguided attempt to spare him pain, clenched his heart.

A sob escaped his lips, the sound swallowed by the rush of water. The weight of his own emotions crashed over him, a tidal wave of confusion, grief, and love. In this vulnerable moment, he found himself connecting with the pain you must have felt when you made the decision to let him go. It was a harsh awakening to the depth of his feelings, a realization that he couldn't ignore.

As the water continued to pour, Jeonghan let himself feel it all. The grief, the regret, the love — they all swirled together, mingling with the steam and disappearing down the drain. It was a painful catharsis, but one he knew he needed to face. In the midst of this emotional storm, he made a silent promise to himself — he wouldn't let fear or regret dictate his actions any longer. If there was a chance to make things right, to be there for you, he would take it.

With newfound determination, Jeonghan turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. The air in his apartment felt charged with a different energy, a sense of purpose guiding his movements. He dried off and dressed, the weight on his heart now transformed into a steady resolve.

He glanced at his phone, willing it to ring with news of your condition. The minutes ticked by, each one a heartbeat in the quiet apartment. Jeonghan's thoughts were a whirlwind, but at the center of it all was a simple truth — he loved you, and he was ready to fight for you.

Jeonghan jolted from his quick slumber when his phone rang. He had been waiting for a call from Beomjae, anxious for an update about you. Instead, it was Soonyoung on the line, and he knew it must be something related to Lee Chan. Jeonghan picked up, his heart pounding.

"We've captured Chan, and we've found the knife that was used to attack her," Soonyoung's voice was steady, businesslike.

"We're going to run an interrogation. Do you want to do it, sunbae?" Soonyoung asked Jeonghan.

"I don't think I can do it, Soonyoung," Jeonghan mumbled, his voice heavy with conflicting emotions. "I might just... I might just kill him before I can even say anything." He continued, rubbing his face in frustration.

"Alright, sunbae. I'll handle it from here. Please send my regards to her," Soonyoung's voice was understanding, supportive. Jeonghan hummed in agreement and nodded, before ending the call and preparing to head to the hospital.

Beomjae was surprised to see Jeonghan's presence. "I told you I'll call you once she's awake," he said, rising from his seat as Jeonghan approached him.

"The culprit has been captured. I think Soonyoung needs you," Jeonghan explained, his voice tinged with urgency. Beomjae nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"He's informed us already. I was about to go once you were here. But, since you're here already, I'll go. These two will stand by here," Beomjae explained, gesturing to the two young officers.

Jeonghan watched Beomjae leave, his heart heavy with a mixture of relief and anxiety. He turned to the officers, gratitude in his eyes. They nodded in understanding, silently affirming their commitment to keeping watch over the room.

As Jeonghan entered your hospital room, he looked at you, still unconscious but fighting to recover. He took your hand in his, a silent promise echoing in his heart - he would be there for you, no matter what.

The soft hum of the hospital machinery provided a backdrop to the tense atmosphere in the room. Jeonghan's gaze lingered on your still form, his heart aching with a mixture of worry and determination. Every shallow rise and fall of your chest was a testament to your resilience, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and filled with unspoken affection. The room seemed to close in around him, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. He couldn't help but replay the events in his mind, each moment etched with vivid clarity.

The memory of finding you, pale and bleeding, was seared into his consciousness. It was a sight that had threatened to shatter his composure, to drown him in a sea of fear and helplessness. But now, seeing you here, fighting to recover, ignited a fierce determination within him.

As he stood by your bedside, his thoughts turned to the captured assailant, Lee Chan. The mere mention of his name sent a surge of anger coursing through Jeonghan's veins. The thought of facing him in an interrogation room was almost unbearable. He knew he needed to remain composed, to let the law take its course, but the depth of his emotions threatened to consume him.

As your eyelids fluttered open, the soft light filtering through the hospital room's curtains gently greeted your senses. Jeonghan's face, etched with a mixture of relief and worry, came into focus. His eyes sparkled with a renewed hope as he met your gaze.

"You're awake," he breathed, his voice tinged with emotion. He reached for your hand, holding it with a tender grip. "I was so worried."

You managed a weak smile, your voice a fragile whisper. "I'm here, thanks to you."

Before long, Jeonghan was on the phone, urgently dialing for a doctor. They arrived swiftly, their presence a reassuring blend of professionalism and compassion. After a thorough examination, they spoke with a gentle but firm tone, emphasizing the importance of rest and recovery.

"You've shown remarkable strength," the doctor remarked, offering you a small, encouraging smile. "But your body needs time to heal. Pushing too hard too soon could set back your progress."

Jeonghan nodded, his concern for you palpable. "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure they have the time they need."

The doctor's gaze shifted to Jeonghan, a silent acknowledgment of his commitment. "That's good to hear. Keep her stress levels low, ensure she gets plenty of rest, and we'll monitor her closely. We're here to support you both."

As they left the room, Jeonghan settled back by your side, his eyes never straying far from you. "I won't leave you, not for a moment," he vowed, his voice a steady anchor in the midst of uncertainty. "You're my priority, now and always."

In the ensuing days, the hospital room became a cocoon of recovery and gentle care. Jeonghan, a steadfast presence, ensured you were never alone. He read to you, brought you small tokens of comfort, and spoke words of encouragement. The outside world felt distant, as if it could never intrude upon this sanctuary of healing.

"Did you find Chan?" You asked him with a weak voice. Jeonghan nodded solemnly, his gaze steady. "We found him, he's under investigation. We'll make sure he gets what he deserves, so you don't have to worry," he reassured you, his fingers gently running through your hair.

As the weight of the truth settled in, you whispered, "I found out he killed my mom." Your voice carried a mix of intrigue and pain, and Jeonghan, though eager for answers, didn't want to press too hard.

"You can tell me later. Your health is the priority now. You heard what the doctor said, you shouldn't stress yourself," Jeonghan urged, his concern evident in his eyes.

You shook your head softly, determination in your gaze. "I want to tell you now."

"When you asked for help to investigate my mom's case, I already had my suspicions about him. I saw the bloodstain on his shirt that night. When I called him, he claimed he was at the gym, but I knew he wasn't. He's such a perfectionist; he always goes to the gym in the morning."

Jeonghan's brow furrowed in thought. "Why do you think he did that?" His voice was low, giving you the space to share.

You considered the question carefully before speaking. "I assume he was after my mom, since I inherited all my money to her." You paused, your eyes locking with Jeonghan's. "You know my mom," you added, alluding to her penchant for younger men.

Jeonghan's eyes softened with concern as he listened to your heartfelt words. Tears streamed down your face as you poured out your heart. "I thought I could trust him. He was the only person who knew that I only have months left," you confessed, your voice choked with emotion.

Jeonghan's heart ached for you, witnessing the pain etched across your face. He gently wrapped his arms around you, offering a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry you had to go through this," he murmured, his voice filled with empathy.

As you leaned into him, finding solace in his presence, Jeonghan's mind raced with a mixture of anger towards Chan and a fierce determination to support you. He knew that trust was a fragile thing, and watching it shattered in this way cut deep.

"You deserve so much better than this," he whispered, his words a promise to stand by you, to be the rock you needed in this storm.

He reached out, gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Listen to me," he began, his voice steady and reassuring. "I understand that this is incredibly difficult for you, and I won't pretend to know exactly how you feel. But you are strong, and you've already shown incredible courage in facing this truth."

He paused, his gaze unwavering. "We're in this together, and I'll be here every step of the way. Your health is a priority, and we'll do everything we can to ensure you get the best care possible."

You looked into his eyes, grateful for his unwavering support. "I just... I don't want to be a burden to you," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "I know that this situation is hard for both of us."

Jeonghan's grip on your face tightened ever so slightly, his eyes filled with determination. "You are not a burden, and you never will be. We face this together, and I'm not going anywhere. You're not alone in this, and we'll find a way through."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch warm and reassuring. "We'll focus on positivity and strength. You're not defined by the circumstances, but by how you face them. And together, we can face anything that comes our way."

His words resonated deep within you, bringing a sense of comfort and resolve. With Jeonghan by your side, you felt a renewed sense of determination to navigate this difficult journey, knowing that his support would be your anchor through it all.

In that tender moment, as his lips met yours, the world seemed to stand still. His touch was gentle, yet it carried the weight of his emotions, a silent promise of unwavering support and love. The connection between you both was palpable, a language of its own that needed no words.

As he cupped your face, his touch was warm and reassuring. It was as if he was trying to convey all the comfort and solace he wished to offer you. In that intimate exchange, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that you were not alone in this journey.

The kiss was a balm to your wounded heart, a reminder that even in the face of pain and uncertainty, there was a love that would endure. It was a testament to the strength of your bond, a declaration that you would face this challenge together.

As you melted into the kiss, a profound sense of gratitude filled your heart. In Jeonghan's arms, you found a sanctuary, a place where you could be vulnerable and find strength. It was a moment that would forever be etched in your memory, a symbol of the unwavering love that would carry you through whatever lay ahead.

The tender moment seemed to stretch, suspended in time, until a voice suddenly cut through the stillness, saying, "Cut." It was the signal that the scene had been perfectly captured.

You and Jeonghan slowly parted, lingering for a moment as you exchanged a silent, knowing glance. There was a shared understanding of the significance of this scene, both in the story and in your own lives.

As the crew bustled around, wrapping up the shoot, you turned to Jeonghan, a soft smile on your lips. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. He returned the smile, his eyes warm with affection. "No, thank you," he replied, his voice just as gentle. "You've been incredible."

As you bowed to every member of the crew on the location shoot, a sense of accomplishment and gratitude filled the air. The bucket of flowers they handed to you was a tangible symbol of the hard work and dedication you and Jeonghan had poured into preparing and shooting the movie.

The director approached both of you, his embrace filled with warmth and appreciation. "I couldn't be more thankful for this," he expressed sincerely.

"The honor is ours to be able to work with you," you replied, touched by his kind words.

Jeonghan nodded in agreement. "It's been such an amazing experience."

The director's eyes twinkled with pride as he looked at both of you. "Your chemistry is undeniable. You're not secretly dating each other, right?" he joked, prompting laughter from all three of you.

After the lighthearted moment, you and Jeonghan headed to your respective rooms to change before heading home. The weight of the past days' work was felt, but it was accompanied by a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. You were both ready for a well-deserved break after the intense and rewarding experience of bringing the story to life on screen. The memories created during this shoot would be cherished forever, a testament to the incredible journey you had shared with the cast and crew.

Yoon Jeonghan: Y/n, do you have time this weekend?

Yoon Jeonghan: How about going to the camping site that you talked about that day?

Yoon Jeonghan: i'll prepare all the stuff and food!

Yoon Jeonghan: what do you think?

#densworld🌼#seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen scenarios #seventeen series #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #seventeen headcanons #seventeen x reader #jeonghan oneshot #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #svt recs #svt fic

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yoonavii · 11 months

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Regency Era! Law x Reader

Description: Lady Y/N defies societal norms with her down-to-earth nature, setting her apart from other noble ladies. During her debut, she captures the attention of numerous suitors, but her heart is unexpectedly drawn to Lord Trafalgar Law, a brooding and mysterious Duke known for his coldness towards women. As their relationship develops, they face the challenges of unraveling Lord Trafalgar’s enigmatic nature and navigating their contrasting personalities amidst societal expectations. Will their connection withstand the obstacles they encounter? or will it crumble?

A/N: this is chapter one of the law x reader fic. more chapters will come out in the future! important note that paragraphs that are italic and in third person is narration.

In the heart of London's upscale neighborhood, an estate of remarkable stature commanded attention. This magnificent home, a testament to great wealth and refined taste, stood as a beacon of opulence and grandeur. The exterior showcased high-end architecture, its facade adorned with intricate carvings and decorative elements that spoke to the exquisite craftsmanship of the time.

Stepping through the imposing entrance, one would find themselves immersed in a world of luxury and sophistication. Expensive furniture, meticulously crafted and upholstered in sumptuous fabrics, graced every room. Plush velvet sofas and ornate chaise lounges invited guests to relax in regal comfort, while gilded mirrors and marble-topped tables added an air of elegance to the surroundings.

Amidst the resplendent interior, a large painting adorned one of the walls, becoming a focal point of the estate. The painting depicted a prestigious family, their esteemed lineage evident in their refined fashion and exquisite jewelry. Most of the family members, portrayed with stoic expressions, showcased the composure expected of their social standing.

Yet, amidst this tableau of solemn faces, one figure stood out—-a young lady named Y/n. With her radiant smile and lively countenance, she brought an unexpected burst of joy and vibrancy to the portrait. Her presence in the painting captivated all who gazed upon it, drawing their attention with her captivating charm.

Y/n's image exuded a magnetic energy. Her vibrant dress, adorned with delicate lace and intricate embroidery, mirrored the effervescence that emanated from her every feature. It was as if her smile had the power to breathe life into the static canvas, leaving an indelible impression on all who beheld her likeness.

————-

Momentarily the front door swings open. you step into the grand entrance hall, accompanied by your family, returning from a long and tiring trip in Germany. The housemaids, lined up to greet your arrival, stand there, eager to offer their salutations. Your family members, weary and preoccupied, pass by the maids with indifference, their focus on reaching the comforts of home. But you pause and break away from the crowd.

A warm smile graces your face as you approach the housemaids. You understand their tireless efforts and the integral role they play in the functioning of the estate. Despite your high status, you have developed a genuine bond with the maids and staff, treating them with the respect and kindness they deserve. you silently greet the housemaids, your smile a reflection of the camaraderie you share. Your actions speak volumes, conveying your appreciation and gratitude for their hard work. You recognize that no matter their station, every member of the household contributes to its smooth operation. Through such actions, you instill a sense of belonging, making the maids and the rest of the staff feel seen and valued.

“Welcome back Viscountess” a few maids spoke to your mother, their voices brimming with warmth and respect. she completely ignores their well-intentioned greetings. Instead, she launches into a tirade about the bone-chilling coldness she experienced in Germany, directing her complaints toward your father, the Viscount. Her voice carries a tone of dissatisfaction, echoing through the grand entrance hall. “Darling,” she begins, her breath visible in the slightly chilly air, “I can’t believe how frigid it was in Germany. The weather was unbearable, and I simply couldn’t enjoy a single moment!”

Your father, already grumpy from the long journey and his own frustrations, offers a dismissive wave of his hand, clearly uninterested in her grievances. “Oh, stop your complaining,” he retorts, his tone laced with irritation. “We’ve returned now, haven’t we? No need to dwell on it.” Summoning the butler with an impatient snap of his fingers, your father abruptly changes the subject, demanding that the meeting for the town’s gentlemen club be arranged. His voice carries a brusque authority as he addresses the butler. “Smithson, I need you to arrange a meeting for the gentlemen's club. The sooner, the better.” Smithson, the butler, trained to fulfill your father’s every command, quickly approaches, his expression neutral and professional. He acknowledges the order with a deferential nod. “Of course, my Lord. I shall make the necessary arrangements promptly.”

Your younger sister and brother were escorted by their nannies to their rooms, their playful voices echoing through the hallways. However, your governess awaited you by the stairs, a figure you disliked immensely. She was strict and overbearing, making you feel suffocated in her presence. As you approached the stairs, she held out her hand, expecting you to take it and be guided up the staircase as usual.

Summoning your courage, you address the governess with a polite tone. “May I go up the stairs on my own this time?” The governess gazes at you with an unyielding expression, her stern demeanor unaltered. “Absolutely not, Y/n,” she responds firmly, her voice carrying a tone of authority. “As a young lady of your age and high status, it is imperative that you adhere to the rules and traditions that govern your position. You are not to go up or down the stairs without a servant or trusted adult present.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the weight of her words pressing upon you. “But I am capable of managing the stairs on my own!” you assert, your voice laced with determination. “I desire a sense of independence and responsibility.” The governess’s gaze intensifies as she counters your plea. “Independence will come in due time, Y/n.” she insists, her tone unwavering. “For now, it is my duty to ensure your safety and proper conduct. The rules have been set for a reason, and it is my role to enforce them.” Resigned to the reality of the situation, you reluctantly extend your hand toward the governess, a subtle gesture of submission. “Very well,” you concede, your voice tinged with disappointment. “Lead the way.”

As your fingers lay atop with the governess’s, you continue up the stairs together, a blend of frustration and determination swirling within you. While the governess’s presence remains an unwelcome reminder of your restricted autonomy, you quietly resolve to find small ways to assert your individuality and independence within the confines of the estate.

As you finally make it to your room, a surge of frustration and determination courses through you. Standing in the doorway, you block your governess from entering, asserting yourself with a resolute tone. “I require privacy,” you declare, slamming the door shut in her surprised face. To your astonishment, the governess, taken aback by your display of defiance, obeys and leaves you alone.

Sighing with relief, you take a moment to collect yourself. Walking further into your room, you intend to find solace and a moment of peace. However, your tranquility is short-lived as you suddenly hear a rustling sound, causing you to jump back in alarm. To your surprise, a maid emerges from your bathroom, holding a towel and an empty bucket. The maid’s presence startles you momentarily, but she quickly apologizes for the scare.

Taking in the maid’s appearance, you notice that she is fairly young, perhaps around your own age. Despite your initial shock, the maid exudes a sense of politeness and shyness. Curiosity piqued, you addressed her. “Are you my new maid?” you ask, your voice filled with genuine interest. The maid nods shyly in response. “Yes, Miss. I have been assigned as your new maid,” she confirms, her voice soft and respectful. She pauses for a moment before adding, “I apologize for any inconvenience or startle I may have caused you.” You offer her a comforting smile, instantly appreciating the maid’s polite demeanor. “No need to apologize. I understand it’s part of your duties,” you reassure her, wanting to alleviate any discomfort she may be feeling. “What’s your name?”

The maid’s eyes meet yours briefly, her shyness apparent. “My name is Emily, Miss,” she answers, her voice barely above a whisper. Your curiosity deepens, and you feel a connection forming between you. “Well, Emily, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say warmly. “I look forward to working with you and getting to know you better.” Emily’s shy smile brightens her features as she responds, “Thank you, Miss. I too look forward to serving you.”

As your mother sits in her chamber, discontentment permeates the air, her maids carefully changing her into a fresh set of clothes. Grievances escape her lips under her breath, a reflection of the frustrations that weigh upon her. Seeking control and release, she casts a scrutinizing gaze towards her head maid, her voice laced with authority as she issues her command. “Ready a carriage for me tonight,” she demands, her determination evident. Her intentions remain veiled, but her head maid, well aware of her secret desires, nods in understanding. Unbeknownst to your father and the rest of the family, your mother has been entangled in a scandalous affair since the previous autumn. The object of her affections is a married man, adding an element of forbidden allure to her illicit connection. Complicating matters further, he happens to be one of the main founders of your father’s gentlemen club.

This clandestine liaison both thrills and torments your mother. The intoxicating pull of forbidden love clashes with the guilt and uncertainty that come with such entanglements. Yet, she finds herself unable to resist the magnetic allure, drawn deeper into the affair, risking the stability of her own marriage and the tranquility of the household.

As the maids finish their tasks, they exchange knowing glances, their loyalty split between their duty to your mother and the secrecy they guard. Silently, they continue their duties, maintaining a facade of loyalty and discretion.

As someone abruptly opens the door without knocking, anger flares within your mother. She inhales sharply, ready to unleash her frustration in a torrent of words, but her fury swiftly subsides when she sees that it’s your father standing there. The sight of him, though unexpected, immediately stifles any outburst she had prepared, and she quickly composes herself.

Realizing the presence of her maids, who discreetly avert their gazes, she turns to them with a controlled tone and instructs, “Leave us.” The maids, well-trained in their duties, cast quick glances at each other before promptly exiting the room, leaving your parents alone to face the impending conversation. Attempting to change her tone to a more conciliatory one, your mother addresses your father, her voice carrying a hint of apprehension. “My dear, is there something you require?” she asks, her gaze shifting from his face to the room’s elegant decor, momentarily avoiding direct eye contact. However, your father, with a cold demeanor, wastes no time in cutting to the chase. “I have a plan for the gentlemen’s club,” he declares, his words firm and decisive. “I intend to host a grand gala, and I will need your assistance in the arrangements and sending out invitations.”

Your mother’s eyes meet your father’s, a flicker of uncertainty shadowing her expression. She takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to set aside her own desires and reservations for the sake of their shared goals. “I understand,” she replies, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and determination. “Expanding the gentlemen’s club and establishing connections with nobles from other regions is indeed a prudent move. I will assist you in every way I can.”

Your father nods, his stoic demeanor remaining intact. “Good,” he replies curtly. “We must secure the support and patronage of influential figures if we are to successfully expand the club’s reach.” As the weight of your father’s plans settles upon them, your parents exchange a lingering gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Their union, intertwined with societal expectations and shared responsibilities, remains a delicate balance of compromise and ambition, even as personal desires and hidden secrets simmer beneath the surface.

—————

Sitting on the floor of your bedroom, your back resting against the bed, you immerse yourself in the book you managed to acquire through your friendly bonds with the household servants. It's a book on finances and politics, a subject your governess would never approve of, but your curiosity compels you to read it regardless. As you delve into the pages, your mind absorbed in the complexities of the world beyond the estate, a knock on your door interrupts your concentration.

Swiftly, you slide the book under your bed, hiding your forbidden treasure, and invite the person to enter. To your delight, it's your new maid, Emily, bringing tidings of great news. With an animated expression and a hushed tone, she leans closer and shares the exciting revelation. "Y/n, your parents are planning a gala of the season," she whispers, her voice filled with anticipation.

A smile dances across your lips as you lean in, eagerly soaking up Emily's words. The prospect of attending the gala stirs a flutter of excitement within you, and you can't help but imagine the allure of the event, filled with young gentlemen and eligible bachelors vying for attention in a whirlwind of refinement and courtship. Emily continues, her voice barely above a whisper, her excitement palpable. "I hope the Duke attends," she confides, her tone betraying a mix of admiration and hesitation. "Though he can be rather unpleasant, it's a shame because he is quite attractive."

You can't help but chuckle softly, amused by Emily's candid remark. The Duke, an enigmatic figure known for his charm marred by a disagreeable demeanor, holds a certain intrigue for you as well. "Indeed, it would be a shame if his behavior overshadows his overall attractiveness," you agree, sharing in Emily's sentiments. "But perhaps, at the gala, we might witness a different side of him."

In that moment, a shared excitement and anticipation fill the air as you and Emily exchange conspiratorial glances. The possibilities and potential of the upcoming gala ignite your imagination, where love stories may unfold, and connections may be forged in the enchanting ambiance of the event. Together, you revel in the dreams and hopes that the gala of the season holds, savoring the anticipation of what the night may bring.

——-

As the Duke stands in the tailor’s shop, being meticulously fitted for a new outfit, his sharp ears catch snippets of conversation between two gentlemen nearby. Intrigued, he subtly adjusts his position to listen more closely, feigning disinterest while keeping his attention focused on their discussion.

The first gentleman, his voice tinged with excitement, exclaims, “Have you heard? Lady Y/n is finally making her debut this season!”

The second gentleman responds with equal enthusiasm, “Indeed, it’s been long-awaited. I’ve heard she possesses an unparalleled grace and beauty. Many young gentlemen are eagerly anticipating the opportunity to court her.”

The Duke’s interest piques further at the mention of Lady Y/n. Her name carries a certain mystique, whispered through the corridors of high society, and he has caught glimpses of her during previous social events. Her radiant smile and captivating presence have left an impression on him.

The first gentleman chimes in, “I’ve heard she has quite the intellect as well. A rare combination of beauty and intelligence. She’ll surely have no shortage of suitors vying for her hand.”

The Duke, ever the observer, listens intently, allowing the words to sink in. A flicker of curiosity dances in his eyes as he contemplates the allure of Lady Y/n. Inwardly, he wonders what lies beneath her elegant facade and infectious smile. There is something intriguing about her, something that sets her apart from the other debutantes.

With measured steps, the Duke approaches the tailor to finalize his measurements, all the while his thoughts swirl with anticipation of the upcoming season. His mind races with questions: Would Lady Y/n’s presence bring a breath of fresh air to the social gatherings? Would she possess the depth and substance that he seeks in a potential companion?

As he exits the tailor’s shop, the Duke’s mind is filled with thoughts of Lady Y/n. A newfound curiosity blooms within him, kindling a desire to unravel the enigma that surrounds her. He resolves to keep a watchful eye on her debut, intrigued by the prospect of encountering her and discovering the woman behind the captivating smile.

©𝐘𝐀𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

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