#and her hesitance ?? was not just like ? prejudice.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

sweating and shaking over whether or not to up my rating of the revenge of frankenstein to 5/5.

[sheswoven]

i have major bones to pick with every 'parental' figure in diana's life . the smallest bone , though , goes to ysabeau .

[darlinghowl]

i've been a jane austen fan from a very young age but if people don't stop making pride and prejudice retellings i'm building a time machine, going back in time and physically stopping jane austen from ever writing it. i swear to god.

[starryhyuck]

pairing: prideandprejudice!jeno x afab!reader

words: 17.8k+

summary: lee jeno is the furthest idea of a possible suitor in your mind. yet somehow, fate continues to pair you together.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: loss of virginity, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, creampie, slight breeding kink

this is basically pride & prejudice (2005)

“You are behaving foolishly,” you comment as Minji runs around the room, encouraging your headache to grow. Jimin exhales from her spot next to you, hands folded in her lap like one of those formal ladies you used to make fun of when you were younger.

“Minji, please sit,” Jimin sighs exasperatedly. Minjeong giggles from her position on the opposite couch, slouching even though she’s not meant to look so unseemly.

Minji finally takes her seat and rolls her eyes at Jimin. “Sister, you must feel some ounce of joy. It’s our first time at a ball!”

It was true — your family had been all but shunned from any formal engagements due to your lack of wealth, but lately, your father has climbed up the ranks and gotten respect from some of the rich parties across town. His hard work resulted in you and your sisters being invited to your first ball, an elite event made up of high society members.

Your mother took this as a sign of a wedding on the horizon since none of your sisters have received formal proposals yet despite being of age. Minji is overjoyed, Jimin is stressing out, and Minjeong is displeased with the situation at hand. Minjeong has always been proud of your family, regardless of status, and she hates the social climbers that migrated around these parties.

You’re indifferent to tonight’s events, willing to tag along to whatever boisterous adventures you find.

Your mother comes frantically into the room just as Minji has finally calmed herself down, hair tied messily on top of her head and corset barely laced up.

“Girls, we must leave soon!” She declares, stroking her fingers through Minjeong’s hair to perfect it.

“Mother, you look unkempt,” Jimin scolds, standing from her spot to finish lacing up your mother’s corset and taming her unruly hair. Your mother profusely apologizes before shooing her away.

“This night is not about me. It’s about you girls. Now remember, Mr. Lee and Mr. Na will both be in attendance. They come from very affluent families, and it would be in your best interest to invest your time into them as they are the most desired bachelors of the season.”

Minjeong scoffs. “Mother, I highly doubt entertaining these men who deny our self-worth is in our best interest.”

Your mother’s mouth opens to scold Minjeong until the click of your father’s shoes come padding down the hall. In his old age, your father traditionally expects all of you to be married off before he passes. Otherwise, the estate transfers over to your cousin, Nakamoto Yuta, who has always been less than kind to your family. You know he would wed you and your sisters off to the first men he comes across just to keep your family’s earnings for himself.

“Are we ready to depart?” Your father asks, smiling proudly in his formal wear. All of your sisters rise from their seats, with Minji nearly jumping out of hers and Minjeong being heavily prodded by your mother.

It’s a long ride to the ball with your family’s estate being located further away from higher society. You and Minji play games on the journey as Minjeong sleeps and Jimin frets over what to say when you arrive.

Jimin has always been the more responsible one out of your sisters, and you understand she has a heavier burden on her shoulders to be married first. Luckily with you being one year younger, there wasn’t as much of an expectation for you to be wed so fast.

The arrival of your family is greeted with a hesitant welcome, most of the men smiling at your father and the women analyzing your sisters and your mother. You grip Minjeong’s arm for dear life, feeling a little more hesitant about the experience now that you have stepped foot on the grounds.

“This is absurd,” Minjeong whispers in your ear as you enter the expansive ballroom. People are gathered in some of their most formal outerwear with music echoing around the dance floor.

“Would you not enjoy a dance?” You ask your sister, heels clacking against the wood floors as you scurry your way through the crowd. You imagine dancing would be quite nice — you and your siblings have spent nights practicing in your rooms, hands joining together as you pretend that you all are actually on the dance floor. Tonight would be perfect to bring those memories to life, but Minjeong doesn’t seem very fond of the idea.

“Have you forgotten that we are not allowed to dance with one another? We must find a partner,” she reminds you, and your eyes flutter around the room to see the prospects.

You’ve seen most of these men in passing, like Lee Taeyong or Lee Mark. You have heard that the brothers are kinder than their appearance might make them seem and perhaps they would entertain you with a spin on the floor.

You suddenly feel Minji grip your arm and she squeals in your ear. “There they are! Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin!”

Your eyes turn to the entrance, where the men of the night are starting to flock in. Lee Jeno, a known affluent man, owns one of the largest estates in the country and has been one of the most desired bachelors for years now. His friend, Na Jaemin, has just moved to the country, making this ball his first public appearance. Similar to Jeno, Jaemin owns multiple estates with an abundant fortune sitting in his bank.

In this world, they are a girl’s one way ticket to safety.

You see Jimin’s back straighten in anticipation, and you know she has her eyes set on Jaemin.

Your mother approaches your side, squeezing your arm. “Behave now, girls.”

Your family gathers to present yourselves in front of Jeno and Jaemin, bowing and curtsying in respect. Jeno simply appears bored, eyes scanning the room in an air of confidence and arrogance. Jaemin immediately smiles at Jimin, who grows slightly bashful under his gaze.

“Mr. Na, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” your father greets first, shaking Jaemin’s hand with fervor.

“You as well, sir. I’m taken by the people’s hospitality to my arrival,” Jaemin remarks.

“It’s rare we get a new face in this town,” your mother replies happily. “And such a handsome one at that.”

Jaemin’s smile is blinding, basking in the compliments and attention. Jeno, on the other hand, looks like he wants to leave and never return.

The music suddenly changes to the tempo of the traditional dance, and Jaemin asks Jimin to join him on the floor. Your sister shyly accepts and you hear both your mother and Minji squeal to one another. Minjeong rolls her eyes and informs you she’s going to find some refreshments for herself.

She leaves you with Jeno, who still appears stiff and unapproachable. You decide to take the first leap into conversation.

“Do you like to dance, Mr. Lee?”

He blinks once, scanning you before answering. “Not if I can help it.”

You’re deterred by his answer until Minji tugs you forward, nudging you to join her on the dance floor. You’re paired with Taeyong, who politely bows to you.

You feel a pair of eyes follow you while you maneuver around bodies of the elite, and your mind lingers on the disdainful presence of Lee Jeno.

Once the music subsides, you take another politeful curtsy to Taeyong before sweeping the room for your fellow companion, An Yujin. Yujin, like your family, was not born into wealth and struggles in society as you do. However, because of her charisma, she is able to sneak her way into parties by charming some of the men for an invitation. You spot her in between a few other guests and eagerly pull her away.

“You did not tell me you were coming!” She exclaims, wrapping you up in a hug.

“We were not informed until earlier this week,” you share, walking along with her as you move your way through the crowd. “Is it not so lovely?”

“Very,” she giggles, her voice turning down when you spot Jeno and Jaemin walking very close to you two. They do not catch sight of you, speaking quietly to one another.

“What a splendid night, so many lovely women,” Jaemin chuckles.

Jeno replies in a bored tone. “You were dancing with the only lovely woman in this room.”

“Yes, she was quite a keeper, was she not?” Jaemin hums, and you and Yujin exchange a look. “I saw you speaking to her sister. She was quite admirable as well.”

Jeno scoffs. “Admirable? Barely tolerable, I would say.”

The conversation is cut short when Jaemin’s sister sweeps them away to meet another family. You huff at Jeno’s clear dislike of you and Yujin pats your hand in comfort when they disappear into the crowd.

“What a horrid man,” you comment.

“Do not fret,” Yujin smiles. “If he liked you, you would actually have to speak with him.”

You giggle in agreement. “Yes, imagine having to entertain a man like that.”

“Jimin looks rather happy, though,” Yujin remarks fondly. “She’s thoroughly taken by Mr. Na.”

You gaze over at your sister, who is happily chattering with Minji. “It seems so. I hope mother is taking her bearings and not placing too much pressure upon her shoulders.”

“I think it might be too late for that.”

Your mother has suddenly grouped Minji and Jimin into directly speaking with Jaemin and Jeno. You exchange a look with Yujin before walking over to save your sisters from this debacle. When you step into their circle, you hear Jaemin compliment Jimin’s dancing.

“She is quite the dancer, if I must say.”

“Yes, yes!” Your mother shouts. “She and her sisters practice all the time. My handsome Jimin, you see, is definitely the most well-rounded of all my daughters!”

“Mother!” You scold, trying to stop her as she continues to embarrass your sisters.

However, she ignores your protest and Jimin’s visible contempt. “Jimin’s always had a vast amount of suitors, you know. There was this one bewitching gentleman who I thought would propose to her last spring but alas, all the man did was write a few poems.”

“And that ended it completely,” you cut in, and Jimin throws you a grateful look. “Who ever decided that poetry was a suitable medium to a woman’s heart? Very poor choice, might I say.”

Your statement earns you a few laughs until a haughty voice interrupts.

“So what do you propose?” Jeno retorts, and it’s the most engaged he’s been with you all night. His eyes bore into yours with the most intense observance. “Poetry has been the love language for suitors across all ages. What do you propose is better to take its place?”

You smile mischievously. “Dancing, I believe. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.”

Jeno’s face morphs into a mix of understanding and discomfort at your recall. You smirk, offering him another curtsy before vanishing back into the crowd.

You feel the burn of his stare follow you.

—

“Shopping for such a simple piece of clothing must seem so benign, do you not think so?”

“Yes, it quite certainly is,” you reply, tugging Minjeong into a nearby fabric store. “But it is necessary in order to impress the likes of the Na family for Jimin’s best interest.”

You and your sisters have made a trip into town to purchase new dresses for another upcoming ball planned by Jaemin. Since your first encounter with him, he and Jimin have made slow strides into courting one another, and this dance may be an opportunity to make it more official. Therefore, you have taken the role of stringing your family into the best shape to appease high society.

Jimin is already browsing through a variety of pinks and blues, carefully explaining to the seamstress that she has no desire for lavish embellishments to her dress. Although she would never admit her nerves, you can detect it from the way she frantically combs her fingers through her hair.

“Play nice for once,” you say to Minjeong, stroking her arm in consolation. “This could mean wonders for Jimin.”

“I can play nice,” Minjeong agrees hesitantly, pretending to be interested in some of the frilly ribbon decorating the store.

The bell above the door rings, signaling another customer walking in. You all turn to see a gentleman come inside, and you curtsy to greet him.

“My apologies for the intrusion,” he smiles, and you take note how captivating he appears. “It’s pouring out there and I was hoping to take shelter in here.”

“Of course, Mr. Lee,” the seamstress nods, gesturing for him to walk about as he pleases.

His eyes zero in on you. He takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You bow your head coyly.

“Lee Donghyuck, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you ladies also shielding yourselves from the horrid rain?”

You smile and return your hand to your side.

“In contrast, Mr. Lee, we are prolifically finding ourselves a manner of dress for the Na ball,” you share, and his eyes sparkle at your response.

“Ah, I see. It must be an extremely difficult decision for you then.”

You laugh. “Yes, it’s quite the hunt for us.”

Minjeong suddenly reappears next to you. “And what brings you to town this evening, Mr. Lee?”

He offers a nod to your sister. “Some of the men from our militia district are in town for our homecoming. We have gathered into town to see what we all have dearly missed from our time away.”

His eyes flit over to you once more, and you bashfully glance down at your feet.

“I must come and see what beholds the community of this ball,” he states, hands wringing together behind his back. “It looks to be an event of importance.”

As soon as Jimin finds the right fabric for her dress and you review the designs for the rest of your family, Donghyuck offers to walk you all back to your estate. Luckily, the weather clears by the time you finish shopping.

You speak with Donghyuck on the way home, with Minji throwing the two of you suggestive looks as you break off from the others.

“How long are you in town for then?”

“Another fortnight or two, dependent on the weather,” he replies, his shoulder brushing against yours as you stride along.

“It must be pleasant to be back home. I cannot imagine how much you have missed it,” you say, enjoying the warmth of his figure every time his arm presses against yours.

He opens his mouth to respond before Minji’s loud hollers interrupt him.

“Oh, Mr. Na! Mr. Na!”

Minji calls out to Jaemin across the river, who is riding horseback alongside Jeno. Your eyes narrow at Jeno’s appearance, still feeling offended from his malicious comments against you. He, in turn, returns your heated glare but to your surprise, it’s not directed at you. His focus is solely on the man beside you, and you notice how Donghyuck tenses at his presence.

“Mr. Na, we just came from the dress shop to look fitting for your ball!” Minji calls happily.

Jaemin gives a nod, his eyes floating to Jimin.

“I’m happy to hear of it!” He replies.

The conversation is cut short when Jeno suddenly instructs his horse to trot away. You observe his abrupt exit, with Jaemin promising to see your family at the ball before following his friend.

“Very ill-mannered, that one is,” Donghyuck comments, scoffing as Jeno’s figure disappears further and further in the distance.

You begin the trek home again as Minjeong speeds up her pace and Jimin tugs Minji along to keep up. You fall behind in order to uncover the deeper meaning of Donghyuck’s words.

“You seem to have an uncivil assumption of Mr. Lee,” you note to him, and he hums in agreement.

“Mr. Lee and I do not get along well.”

“May I inquire why?”

“I have known Mr. Lee since birth, you see. Our families were very close and I thought of his father as mine and he thought mine as his. When my father passed, I became closer to his own as a result. Eventually, when Jeno’s father grew sickly, he asked that the rights of the Lee estate be passed onto me. At that point, you must imagine, we were closer than he and his son ever were and it drove Jeno wild with jealousy.”

You can visualize Jeno as the epitome of bitterness, envy blazing his form as he watches Donghyuck grow closer to his father. You fail to realize how your bias towards disliking Jeno prevents you from questioning the truthfulness to Donghyuck’s story.

He continues. “After his father passed, Jeno willingly sought my demise by forcing me into the militia and preventing me from inheriting his estate. I hope you can see now why I do not enjoy entertaining his presence.”

“That is purely vengeful,” you say with sympathy, almost wishing to apologize on Jeno’s behalf. “It pains me to think you had to go through such a thing.”

He smiles and shrugs it off.

“It is in the past, and we must look towards the future. I shall be delighted to see you at the ball, miss.”

You curtsy and grin. “You as well, Mr. Lee.”

—

Donghyuck is the first person you search for when you arrive at the Na estate.

You spot Yujin in between bodies, tugging her along in your search. She laughs and follows you as you weave your way through the crowd.

“How handsome is he that has you so besotten?”

“He’s just wonderful, Yujin!” You exclaim passionately. “If you spoke to him as well, you would know!”

You pass by numerous familiar faces, asking them if they have seen Donghyuck lingering around. You disappointingly receive a resounding denial at the sight of his presence.

Jimin calls your name quietly when she approaches you and Yujin in the drawing room.

“I do not believe Mr. Lee is here. It seems he has been sent off.”

You frown. “Sent off? Oh, but he must be here!”

“There you are.”

All three of you jump at the sound of a male voice entering your conversation. You turn to see your cousin, Yuta, staring at you intimidatingly. You curtsy in respect.

“I was wondering if it would please you to join me.”

He gestures to the dance floor and you almost choke.

“Mr. Nakamoto, I did not know you danced.”

If you did not know any better, you would guess Yuta was glaring at you judging by the weight of his stare.

“I do not think it so inappropriate for a gentleman of my status to ask a woman for a dance. As much as I think it is not inappropriate for you to accept.”

You flounder. Your sisters had gossiped a few days ago about Yuta being in search of a wife, but you would have never guessed he had his sights set on you.

You nod timidly, trying your best to ignore Yujin and Jimin’s incredulity. He guides you to the floor and you make your best attempt at taking him seriously.

The dance is almost comical to you, suddenly burdened by Yuta’s intense gaze. He has never shown the slightest interest towards you until now, and his advances only bring you laughter.

As soon as the music ends, you grab Yujin’s arm and pull her away to avoid Yuta’s further questioning. The two of you giggle at the spectacle that just took place.

“Can you believe Mr. Nakamoto just-“

Your voice catches in your throat when you almost collide into someone’s chest. Your eyes drift up to catch the sight of Jeno.

He still has that same bored expression painting his face but you can see a hint of nervousness clouding his eyes.

“May I have the next dance?”

You are slightly startled by the question, but you manage to keep your decorum intact.

“You may.”

He offers you a nod before disappearing into the crowd once more. Yujin squeezes your arm.

“Did you agree to dance with Mr. Lee?”

“For heaven’s sake, I believe I have. I must be going mad, Yujin. He is the man I have sworn to hate,” you gasp.

She shakes you from your trance and guides you back to the dance floor, bringing you face to face with Jeno. He is a lot more restless than usual, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he avoids your gaze.

The dance begins with a respectful curtsy and bow. You begin to move to meet Jeno at the center and remark, “This is a beautiful dance.”

He curtly nods. “Yes, I think so.”

He is rather lucky you’re determined to be on your best behavior or else you would have rolled his eyes at the simple comment. You turn past Kang Seulgi’s figure and meet him again in the middle.

“It is your turn to make conversation, Mr. Lee. Usually, you would compliment the host of the gathering or comment on the people who have attended.”

“Is that so?” He muses, taking slow steps around Lee Mark to circle back to you. You join your hands in the middle and pace quietly to the hum of the violin playing. “Please do tell what invigorating subject you would like for me to focus on.”

You can tell he’s trying to push your buttons and you grit your teeth. “A lady must not lead the conversation so easily, Mr. Lee. It is your job to set the tone.”

You separate to continue the dance, rotating again around Seulgi and Mark’s figures.

“Do you and your sisters go shopping in town often?”

You hesitate, knowing he’s beginning to broach the subject of Donghyuck. You connect in the middle, the bottom of your dress skirting by him.

“Lately yes, we have. We find it a great opportunity to get out and meet new people. In fact, we had just met a lovely man that day you saw us by the river.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Lee Donghyuck is charming, indeed. His ability to win over women’s hearts is quite notable, but it does not fare in comparison to his ability to quickly lose that adoration.”

You bite back, dancing in another circle and attempting to keep your composure. “Yes, and it was so devastating to hear that he has lost that devotion from you. Quite irreversible, is it?”

“Indeed,” he nearly hisses, stopping in the middle to sneer at you. The dance continues but you hold your ground, staring at him with as much anger as you can muster. “Why do you ask such a question?”

“To inquire into your character, Mr. Lee.”

His eyes burn with an unanticipated flame. “And what did you discover?”

“Very little. I hear quite different stories about your character and it baffles me exceptionally.”

“My apologies,” he states, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I hope to clear your troubled thoughts going forward.”

You both resume the dance, but it somehow feels like the entire room has disappeared. The weight of your words builds the tension and you follow the steps of the dance you know by heart, but your eyes no longer drift to different parts of the room. They stay focused on Jeno, who is equally captured by you.

The two of you speak nothing more until you return to the same spots you started the dance in. The sound of applause jolts you out of your stupor and you take one last look at Jeno, offering him a polite curtsy before exiting the floor.

You’re startled when you nearly run into Yuta again on your way to the drawing room.

He says your name in a rigid tone. “You’re well acquainted with Mr. Lee?”

You almost stutter. “Not very well. I will admit, I’m surprised to see you at such an event, Mr. Nakamoto.”

“Are you? Your mother has brought it up to me on many occasions, especially noting that you would be in attendance.”

You clench a fist behind your back and silently curse your mother.

“Did she? I cannot imagine why she would think that would be of importance to you.”

“I am sure you have heard of my search for a companion to my estate. Lady Park has been stressing the issue and I am not one to avoid her suggestions,” he shares, taking a small step closer to you.

You take a step back. You and your sisters know all about Lady Park — the woman who financially supports Yuta until he gets a hold of your family’s fortune when you and your siblings are married off and your father has passed. She dictates every aspect of Yuta’s life and he must engage in her wishes to ensure his funds are properly taken care of.

“Mr. Nakamoto, I will save you the trouble. I have no desire to be married at this time, so whatever offer my mother promised you cannot be fulfilled on my account.”

He frowns. “Surely, a girl of your age understands the need for a husband in this economy. A comfortable life could save you the misfortune of attending these dances.”

“If you do not mind my candor, I do not believe a comfortable life for me would include you in it. I sincerely hope you are able to find a wife who is best suited to help you run your estate.”

You curtsy for him, ignoring the malicious sneer he throws your way. You scurry into the drawing room, searching for Yujin and finding her near the piano. Minji is playing to her heart’s content and it seems she has been doing so for hours, and your father walks over to tell her to be mindful of other people’s time.

You loop your arm around Yujin’s to get her attention.

“Oh, how was it?” She exclaims enthusiastically as you pull her away. “You did not look so pleased to be in Mr. Lee’s presence from what I could see.”

You huff. “Truly an understatement. And you will not believe the kind of proposal Mr. Nakamoto approached me with.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Do not tell me-“

“I denied it, of course. It would have been a loveless coupling, much to my mother’s chagrin.”

She frowns at your indifference. “You know, you are blissfully lucky to even have such an offer come across you. Your family has only been in high society for a few months yet you have already gotten a marriage proposal from a wealthy suitor.”

“Is that all you heard? A wealthy suitor,” you repeat with a scoff. “Yujin, Mr. Nakamoto has despised my family since Jimin came of age. I would like to think I should get a say in who I marry and not just because he is inheriting my father’s pocket.”

You brush off her continued sorrow over your situation. Your eyes scan the room, seeing your mother hang by the staircase with a glass of wine in her hands, loudly praising Jimin for catching the attention of Jaemin. Jimin, on the other hand, is conversing quietly with him a few feet away, awkwardly tucking her hair behind her ears and avoiding his gaze. Minji is tugging Minjeong along now that she is not berating a crowd with her piano playing, the both of them laughing at some of the guests around them.

“I believe my family is entertaining the masses well enough,” you muse.

She laughs and nods, sweeping your previous conversation about Yuta under the rug.

“The upside is that Mr. Na does not seem to mind,” she says, and the two of you watch him laugh at something Jimin has whispered.

“I think he is quite devoted to her.”

She hums. “But does she return his favor?”

You chuckle. “What are you on about? Of course she does! He’s all she ever thinks about.”

“All I am saying is that having a wonderful man like Mr. Na becoming smitten is a rare chance. However, if Jimin does not outwardly express her intentions, he could be deterred from continuing his advances.”

You shake your head. “She’s just shy, you know that. She is not the type to wear her heart on her sleeve like most other women.”

“But Mr. Na is not well acquainted with that fact. He does not know her as we do. She has to take advantage of his love before the clock runs out.”

You study your sister and her suitor, wondering if Yujin was right.

Your eyes drift over to catch Jeno’s, who is intently watching you from across the room. His hands are folded behind his back and despite the many women surrounding him, he only has his gaze directed at you. You interpret it in the wrong fashion, assuming he has once again taken on a mission to taunt you.

You hold your head high, hauling Yujin to the next room and disregarding the irritating presence of Lee Jeno.

—

It is weeks later when your family catches news that Jaemin is leaving the city.

Jimin is utterly distraught, ostracizing herself in her room while your mother frantically runs around the house, insisting the news cannot be true. You hesitantly approach Jimin as she is crying on her bed, curled up with her face stuffed in her pillow. You brush back her hair and sigh.

“Mr. Na is an idiot for leaving without proposing to you,” you say, trying your best to comfort her. “All of us could see he was so taken with you. I am sure he will return soon and bring you with him.”

“Do not bother,” she sniffles, wiping the tears falling down her cheeks. “I knew I could never be an acceptable fit for him. He saw our family and ran for the hills.”

“Stop putting yourself below him,” you scold. “You were a very acceptable match for him and it is his fault if he could not see how uniquely extraordinary you are. He will learn his regret soon.”

You leave her to wallow in her sadness, telling your mother to stop her fussing and leave Jimin alone. You catch some fresh air outside, basking in the sunlight before you hear the crunch of leaves from behind you.

You barely register Yujin’s form until she’s tackling you in a hug. You gasp and lock your arms tight around her.

“What on earth are you doing here?” You laugh, and she gives you another squeeze before pulling away. You take in the anxiety clouding her face.

“I have come to tell you the joyful news — Mr. Nakamoto and I are engaged.”

You take a step back, astonished by the reveal. You blink rapidly and stutter. “E-Engaged? To be wed?”

“Of course, silly. What other kind of engaged is there?” She drinks in your nauseated expression and sighs. “Do not give me that. You should be perfectly happy for me.”

“But he is ridiculous! And so much older than you. Yujin, you cannot possibly-“

“Yes, I can,” she replies in a stern tone. “Not all of us can afford to have choices. He is offering me a comfortable life and a beautiful home. And now, your family will no longer have to worry that some tyrant will swoop in and steal your father’s earnings.”

“But Yujin-“

She continues. “My father is very close to losing his job and my family is in danger of falling from high society. I do not have many prospects, and I am very thankful that Mr. Nakamoto approached me. I am terribly frightened, do you not see? So please, do not judge me.”

You embrace her. “I apologize, I did not realize how tough it must have been for you.”

She shakily returns your affection. “Promise me you will come visit when you can? Lady Park has a wonderful cottage that we will be staying in when we are married.”

You nod. “I most certainly will. I have to ensure you are being taken care of properly.”

She giggles. “I will miss you.”

After a tearful goodbye, you watch Yujin’s figure disappear into the horizon and return home. You feel a plethora of emotions swirling around your head from Yujin’s future — mainly concern but also a feeling of happiness for her safety. As much as you were not fond of Yuta, you know he would still treat her with respect.

You are taken aback when you enter your home to see your mother with a handful of garments in her arms. She rushes up the stairs with Minji following closely behind. You fume when you see her entering Jimin’s room.

“Mother, I told you to leave Jimin well enough alone!”

You ascend the staircase and follow them, confused when you see a suitcase splayed out on Jimin’s bed as your mother stuffs clothing into it as fast as she can.

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims at the sight of you. “Come here and help Jimin pack for her trip. Where in heavens did you disappear to?”

Your eldest sister is now up on her feet, looking slightly more lively. Minji is eagerly folding dresses for her.

You speak slowly. “I was out speaking with Yujin. She is betrothed to Mr. Nakamoto.”

They all pause at the news. Your mother is the most engaged, furious by the revelation.

“I told you! Mr. Nakamoto is a reputable man who could have brought you wonderful children.” You wince at the thought. “You should have accepted his proposal when he offered!”

“Oh mother,” Jimin interjects, coming to your defense. “The man did not even have the decency to ask father for permission.”

“What exactly are we packing for?” You ask, desperate to move the topic of conversation far from you.

Your mother immediately brightens, forgetting about nagging you for a second. “Jimin is going out of the city to stay with your aunt and uncle! She will remain for a visit until Mr. Na sees the error of his ways.”

You frown, approaching them as they continue to pack Jimin’s belongings.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Of course it’s what she wants!”

You and Jimin ignore your mother’s enthusiasm. She nods at you, smiling softly.

“I think so. No, no, I believe so. I want to fight for him.”

You smile at the sparkle of determination in your sister’s eye. You happily help her fold the rest of her belongings.

Your mother has already called the carriage, with Minjeong holding the door open with a disinterested look on her face. Jimin envelops her in a hug as she passes and you see Minjeong’s hardened expression melt a little.

You all help Jimin into the carriage and wave her off, praying to the heavens that Na Jaemin will offer her a second chance.

—

You breathe in the smell of the quaint countryside, laughing when Yujin comes bursting out the front door of her cottage and embraces you tightly.

“I cannot believe you are finally here! I have waited so long for your arrival,” she says.

“I am delighted the weather was favorable enough for the trip,” you murmur, pulling away and smiling softly. “This is a lovely home, Yujin.”

“Oh please, you flatter me so. You have not yet seen the inside!”

She pulls you through the door, and you drink in the sight of the living room. It feels warm and cozy, which is exactly what you would expect from a home decorated by your friend.

Yuta comes walking down the long hallway, eyeing you.

“I see you have made a successful trip here.”

You curtsy. “Yes, Mr. Nakamoto. I am honored that you and Yujin have allowed me to stay for a short period.”

“You know you can stay for as long as you like!” Yujin exclaims. “I have missed your company a great many.”

She guides you into the room where you will take your stay. She helps you unpack your luggage, admiring the new dresses you have acquired in her absence.

“And how is Jimin? I was curious to know of her whereabouts since the last letter of yours arrived.”

You sigh. “It has been months since she left to stay with our aunt and uncle. No progress has been made for her and Mr. Na, and I fear for her heartbreak when she returns to us.”

Yujin frowns. “How dreadful. I do hope she is able to win his affections before it is too late.”

“Whatever the case may be, Mr. Na has surely lost a beautiful bride.”

She hums in agreement.

Yuta interrupts your conversation hours later, rushing into your room with a delighted expression.

“Yujin! Lady Park has asked us to come to supper,” he declares.

Yujin stands from her spot on your bed, clapping her hands in excitement.

“Oh, wonderful! That is absolutely delightful.” She turns to you, gripping your elbows. “You must come with us. Lady Park would be overjoyed to meet you.”

“O-Oh,” you stutter, unsure of what to say. “I haven’t got much to wear.”

Yuta brushes off your concern. “Lady Park is not averse to your manner of dress. Simply put on your best and you can accompany us.”

You join Yujin and Yuta that evening to meet Lady Park at her grand estate, which is merely a few miles away from their cottage. You hold your breath as you enter the grand drawing room, where Lady Park sits with her daughter, Chaeyoung.

You curtsy in respect alongside Yujin, and Lady Park eyes you warily.

“We are honored you have asked us to dine with you tonight, Lady Park,” Yujin says, hands folded neatly above her stomach.

You are about to voice your agreement until a creak in the hardwood distracts you. Your eyes flutter over to the doorway to catch the sight of Jeno entering.

“Mr. Lee,” you murmur in surprise. “I did not expect to see you here.”

The familiar burn of his stare welcomes you. He bows his head and you return the favor.

He says your name, and you feel a rush travel down your spine. You have not heard him speak since the night of the dance.

“I am a guest here,” he explains simply.

Lady Park stands from her seat on the chaise lounge.

“You are familiar with my nephew?”

You digest the information, storing away the fact that Yuta never mentioned Jeno was related to Lady Park.

“Yes, I had the privilege of meeting your nephew a few months ago, ma’am.”

You hear Jeno almost scoff at the suggestion of your encounter being anything but dreadful. You clench your fists behind your back to prevent an outburst.

“And this is my cousin,” Jeno introduces, stepping aside to allow another man to come into your line of vision. He smiles and bows. “Park Jisung.”

You pay your courtesy and Lady Park instructs the group to gather in the dining room for supper. You take a spot next to Jisung and across from Yujin.

Before you can get comfortable, Lady Park scolds Yuta. “Mr. Nakamoto, you cannot sit next to your wife and only converse with her. Switch with our guest.”

You awkwardly switch places with Yuta, now sitting next to Yujin and Jeno. Your shoulder brushes by his, and he instinctively leans closer to you. Your breath hitches slightly at the proximity.

With the seating arrangements in order, you all take your seats and begin dining into the feast.

Jeno clears his throat. “Has your family been faring well?”

It takes a moment for you to register that he is speaking to you. You glance at him, only to find him engrossed in his meal.

“They have been doing well, all things considered,” you reply. You cannot help but prod him for answers. “Jimin has actually gone to stay with our aunt and uncle, close to where Mr. Na is staying. Perhaps you have seen her.”

He looks at you. “I have not had the pleasure, no.”

You purse your lips. “What a shame. I know she would be delighted to have your company.”

He hums. “Is that so? Is she the only one who would enjoy my companionship at this time?”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise at his confidence. A sliver of his true personality shows, with the corner of his lips threatening to lift.

Lady Park interrupts your exchange as she calls your name.

“Do you play the piano?”

You shake your head, trying to disregard that Lee Jeno’s character seems to be more than that of a boring nobleman. “Not very well, ma’am. I’m afraid that is a talent reserved for my youngest sister.”

“And your sisters — how many of you are out in society?”

You smile as politely as you can. “All of us, ma’am.”

Lady Park is shocked by the revelation. “All of you? All at once? The youngest being out before the oldest ones are married? Why, that is unheard of.”

“I should not think to burden my younger sisters simply because the oldest ones are not yet wed. They deserve to have their fair share of enjoyment,” you voice, ignoring her continued surprise by your candor.

“You have a lot of opinions for a girl so young and still not in charge of her own household,” Lady Park sighs. “It would do you well to hold your tongue.”

Your fingers tighten around your spoon but you’re amazed when Jeno speaks up.

“I think she is very gifted for her age, considering her family was not born in the faces of high society. I do not think playing the piano would truly showcase the talent she encompasses.”

Lady Park’s lips dissolve into a thin line at her nephew’s impudence. You swallow the jarring emotions you feel at Jeno’s blatant defense of you.

“Well, I must be carrying the customs of my time then. However, I shall hear you play a piece for us after supper.”

“Ma’am, I stress to you that I do not lie when I say I play the piano poorly-“

Yuta hisses your name across the table, throwing you a stern glance. Yujin has a pleading look painting her own features.

“She would be happy to play for you,” Yuta says firmly, with no room for argument.

You swallow your dispute, looking back down at your bowl of soup as Lady Park scolds her daughter for her poor posture. In the corner of your eye, you see Jeno’s hand twitch.

Your head raises and you catch his stare — his eyes no longer holding the small glimmer of amusement you caught earlier.

The last thing you want is for Lee Jeno to feel sorry for you, so you return to finishing your meal, brushing off his concern.

After dinner, you go back to the drawing room and hesitantly take a seat at the grand piano in the corner of the room.

Your fingers clumsily press down on the keys, playing an off-tune version of the last piece you memorized. The group continues to chatter behind you as Lady Park invites Yujin to come visit whenever she pleases. Jeno slowly approaches you and you shake your head.

“There is no need to point out my terrible sense of musical inclination, Mr. Lee. It is a flaw I’m very well acquainted with.”

“I had no intention to do so,” he replies. “And no gentleman would ever raise attention to a fault a woman believes she has, even if he disagrees with her.”

You stop playing briefly to look up at him. He’s already staring back at you, his eyes now conveying an emotion you cannot recognize. You wonder what you would find if you peeled back a few layers of his hard exterior.

Jisung draws near, his hand cupping Jeno’s shoulder with familiarity.

“You must tell me how my dear cousin behaved when he was in your town.”

You laugh under your breath. “I must disappoint you, Mr. Park, as your cousin was very indifferent during his stay. Despite the many women begging for a dance and the lack of suitors on the floor, Mr. Lee still insisted on keeping to himself and refusing to make conversation with others.”

Jisung chuckles. “Truth be told, that sounds very akin to the cousin I know. I have never seen him dance with another woman willingly.”

You pause, remembering how Jeno asked you to dance the night of Jaemin’s ball. You recall how nervous he looked when he faced you, almost as if he was jumping out of his socks.

Jeno clenches his jaw. “Well, dear cousin, I am sure you understand how difficult it is for me to gab about with people I’m not familiar with. Dances are not something I take pleasure in.”

You interject. “Even if it is a woman’s choice of love language? A way you can show her your affection?”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he catches on to what you’re referring to.

“Perhaps then, there could be an exception.”

Lady Park admonishes you for not playing as instructed and you return to the piano, paying no heed to Jeno’s presence for the rest of the evening.

—

Your hand aches as you finish writing your letter to Jimin, sealing the envelope carefully.

You are anxious by the state of your sister’s duress, as it seems Mr. Na has still not come to visit her. Jimin is growing more and more disappointed by the day, feeling as if she has burdened your family with this ridiculous adventure. You wish you could see her and tell her that she would never be a burden to you, but writing a letter is the only communication you can give to her at this time while you continue your stay with Yujin and Yuta.

Just as you place the envelope back down on the table in your room, the door swings open.

You’re startled when Jeno walks through the door, his eyes frantic.

“Mr. Lee,” you say, failing to hide the surprise in your voice as you stand.

You both pay your respects and you wait for him to explain the meaning of his visit, as it has been a week since you saw him at Lady Park’s dinner festivities. However, the words seem to be caught in his throat because he says nothing to you, opening and closing his mouth furiously.

“Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto went to the village,” you bring up, pondering if that was the reason he was here.

“Yes,” he clears his throat, fiddling with the sleeves of his coat. “Yes, it is a nice day to go to the village.”

You nod, still trying to decipher the reason why he’s here with no notice.

“This- This is a beautiful home,” he notes, bouncing from one foot to another.

It is the most disheveled you have ever seen him.

“Yes, I think so as well. Should I fetch us some tea?”

He immediately shakes his head. “No, no.”

You sit in an unpleasant silence for another few moments before you hear the front door open, signaling Yujin and Yuta’s return.

“Have a good day,” Jeno quickly says, walking swiftly down the hallway and out the cottage, not even bothering to acknowledge Yujin’s presence when he passes by.

Yujin stares incredulously after him, eyes darting over to you.

“What on earth have you done to poor Mr. Lee?”

You shake your head, puzzled by the odd interaction.

“I have no idea.”

—

“There are many conveniences which others may supply and which we cannot procure for ourselves…”

You fight the yawn threatening to come out as Yuta drones on in his sermon. One of the downsides of staying with Yujin and Yuta was the weekly attendance at the local church, where Yuta often read verses for the people. Yujin is always enthralled by her husband’s lectures, but you do not share her level of enthusiasm.

You lean over to whisper to Jisung, who is seated next to you.

“How much longer will you be in town, Mr. Park?”

“As long as my cousin needs,” he answers. “I am at his disposal.”

You scoff, imagining exactly how many people Jeno had at his disposal.

“I wonder why he does not marry so he can bring a woman alongside him instead of dragging you,” you quip.

Jisung laughs quietly. “If he did choose a woman, she would be very lucky. Jeno is a loyal man to both friends and family alike. I heard he recently helped save a friend from an unwise marriage.”

You frown. “Who was the friend?”

“One of his closest companions, Na Jaemin.”

Your features twist into a scowl, and you spot Jeno sitting across the church. Your chest fills with an indescribable rage.

“Did he explain why?” You ask Jisung.

“There were a lot of objections to the lady. I believe her family was not considered to be the right fit for a nobleman of his status.”

You could nearly feel the steam coming out of your ears. So this was the truth — Jeno found your family completely unruly and unfit for his standards and in return, he cut off Jimin’s chance of finding love. All of the pieces click into place and you clench your fists, wondering who gave him the right to dictate the fate of your family.

As soon as the sermon ends, you find the quickest exit, refusing to wait for Yujin and Yuta. You decide you must get back to their cottage to write to Jimin, insisting she come home and end her useless pining after Jaemin.

You gasp when you realize it’s raining, the heavy downpour soaking your dress. You waste no time, running as fast as you can until the church is no longer in sight.

After a mile, you see a nearby gazebo and decide to take shelter there to catch your breath. You place a hand on your chest, staring down at the hem of your dress, which is now covered in mud and dirt.

The call of your name causes you to gasp, and you look up to find the main character of your distress.

Jeno is also completely soaked from head to toe and offers you no time to say a word. “I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came here with the sole purpose of seeing you and I must tell you how I am feeling. I am fighting against my family’s expectation and the inferiority of your birth because I am asking you to end my agony.”

You shake your head. “I do not understand-“

“I love you,” he confesses. You freeze, appalled by the revelation. “Most ardently. Please do me the honor by accepting my hand.”

You grit your teeth. “I apologize, Mr. Lee, for having caused you pain since our first meeting. I assure you it was not my intention.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this your reply?”

“Yes.”

“So it is a rejection?”

“Yes.”

He swallows. “May I ask why you are so quick to voice your refusal?”

You laugh. “Then may I ask why you think it is so brave of you to confess your love for me against your better judgment? I must be so uncouth for you to hold onto your feelings for so long instead of speaking them to me!”

“I did not mean-“

“And I am frankly horrified to think that you believe me to have no dignity that I would accept the hand in marriage of a man who has ruined the fate of my eldest sister, whom I admire with all of my heart!”

His expression falls at the mention of Jimin, and you laugh mockingly at catching his lie.

“Do you deny it, Mr. Lee? Breaking up a young couple in the height of their affection and forcing my sister to question her self-worth?”

“I do not deny it,” he replies sternly.

“What gave you the right-“

“I watched them out of respect for my friend and realized his attachment was deeper than hers,” he explains, but it only causes you to grow angrier.

“She’s shy! She has never been courted so seriously by another man before, especially not one that became so public,” you vouch for her.

He stands his ground. “Jaemin had realized she was not returning his affection with the same amount of passion-“

“Only after you suggested it!”

“I did it for his own good!”

“My sister rarely shows her true feelings to me,” you yell, and Jeno is taken aback. “You will never understand the burden an eldest sister has to face when there are no sons born to the family. You will never understand the weight on her shoulders when Mr. Nakamoto is knocking on the door, waiting to take away what little fortune your family possesses!”

He continues to defend himself. “There was a call into the character of your family and the suggestion of an advantageous marriage-“

You sneer. “How dare you assume Jimin would pursue such a thing!”

“It was not her, but your mother, on the other hand-“

You taunt him. “And what of Lee Donghyuck?”

He narrows his eyes and takes a step closer to you. “Lee Donghyuck?” He speaks the name as if someone poured acid on his tongue.

“What excuse could you possibly conjure of your behavior towards him?”

He purses his lips. “You take a great deal of interest in Donghyuck.”

“How can you defend the misfortunes you have put him in?”

He smiles mockingly. “Ah yes, I’m sure his misfortunes are vast in comparison to mine. I see that this is how you view me — a horrible villain who casts a dark shadow wherever he goes.”

“You are the one who has decided to insult the inferiority of my birth, which is beyond my own control! That arrogance and selfish disdain for the feelings of others is why I believe you are the last man in the world I would ever consider to marry!”

His expression crumbles. It is only now that you recognize how short the proximity between you two has gotten. He seems to have grasped the situation as well, eyes flickering downwards to stare at your lips. You swear that he begins to lean in before he stops himself.

You think you would let him kiss you, despite all signs pointing to it being a bad idea. The desire building in your stomach has you questioning your common sense.

There is no possible way you want Lee Jeno to kiss you, to mark you as his, to marry you in front of all those presumptuous nobles like Lady Park-

“Forgive me for taking up so much of your time.”

He turns and walks away, leaving you panting with a gaping hole in your chest.

—

Days pass before you hear from Jeno.

You contemplate returning home, but Yujin convinces you to stay for a little while longer. You write out a letter to Jimin to tell her everything, but for some reason, you never send it. You fear the gruesome picture you will paint of Jeno and consequently, Jimin’s feelings towards him. You somehow care for your sister’s approval for the rich nobleman although you turned down his proposal.

It’s another dreary night when Jeno shakes the cottage with his presence. You hear his blazing footsteps behind you but you refuse to look at him, staring at the wall in your room with your back turned to him.

He clears his throat. “I came to drop off this.”

You do not know what he has left, ignoring the miniscule part of your brain that screams at you to check.

You speculate on what he looks like — was he wearing that dreary trench coat he likes to walk around in? Was he wearing a mask of contempt at his behavior? Did he really mean what he said? Did he really love you?

“I shall not repeat the confessions that were so insulting to you, but if I may, I will address the two offenses you have laid against me,” he says.

You want to see him. You want to see if he has that stricken expression on his face, if he still has a hint of playfulness hidden in his eyes.

But when you turn around, he is gone. You would believe you had imagined him if not for the letter sitting neatly on the windowsill.

You swallow and open it, eyes scanning over his neat penmanship.

My father loved Donghyuck like a son. After his passing, my father left him a generous living, but Donghyuck made it clear that he would not be taking orders. He gambled away his living within weeks and demanded for more money from me, insisting it was what my father would have wanted. I refused, and he severed all acquaintance thereafter. He returned to us last summer in an attempt to court my sister, Jayoon, and convince her to elope with him. My sister is to inherit half of our estate. When it was made clear Donghyuck would not be receiving a penny of that inheritance, he disappeared once more. I will not try to explain the depth of Jayoon’s despair.

You gasp, eyes shuffling through the ink in disbelief. You could not comprehend the deceit and maliciousness Donghyuck possessed. The man you met was so poised and charismatic, but you suppose all the best con men were.

As for the matter of your sister and Jaemin, though the motives which governed me may to you appear insufficient, they were in the service of a friend.

Yujin’s voice pulls you out of your stupor. She enters your room, carrying a tray of your meal for the night. A worried look crosses her face at the sight of you, and that is when you realize you have started to cry. You wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Yujin asks, frantically coming over to you.

You hide Jeno’s letter behind your back, clutching onto it for dear life.

“I-I hardly think so.”

She lays her forehead on yours, understanding what you need.

“I believe it’s time for you to return home.”

—

“Honestly, if he passed by me in the street, I would hardly even recognize him.”

You brush off Jimin’s blatant lie and ignore the way she is combing her fingers through her hair as a nervous tick. She frowns at your faint smirk.

“It is true!” She claims, hitting your arm with mischief. “Anyway, what news comes from your visit with Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto?”

You returned home shortly after Jeno delivered his letter. Yujin was sorrowful to see you go, but she recognized you needed to be with your family, no matter how loud and boisterous they could get. Jimin arrived a day before you, declaring her efforts worthless, much to your mother’s displeasure.

Jimin insists the experience was a pleasant one and that she learned a great many, and you would not dare refute her claims despite the numerous letters you received that say the opposite.

You smile at your sister’s question. “Nothing exciting.”

You had decided to keep the contents of Jeno’s letter for yourself, afraid to admit your blossoming feelings and ignorance at your accusations towards him. Considering Jimin is handling the loss of Jaemin better than expected, you also did not want to burden her with the truth.

The door to the drawing room bursts open and Minji comes parading through, screaming wildly.

“The heavens have truly blessed me!”

You raise an eyebrow at her as she collapses on the lounge, dress flowing across her hips in an improper fashion. Minjeong follows her into the room, looking cross with her hands folded across her chest.

“They are not sending you there because you are a suitable wife, they are sending you there because you are a disgrace to the family!”

“Minjeong!” You scold her, watching as Minji simply laughs at her sister’s insult. “What on earth are you two jabbering about?”

“Father is sending me to live with the Baek family,” Minji divulges, wiggling her feet in excitement.

Jimin stands, outraged by the information. “What? Minji, the Baek family live across town!”

“Yes, and is it not so delightful?” She giggles, ignoring you and Jimin’s worries. “There will be a handful of suitors there at my disposal!”

You and Jimin exchange a knowing glance before heading to your father’s office. He appears to be expecting your arrival, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in anticipation of your anger.

“Father, you cannot send Minji away to the Baek family,” Jimin begins.

You continue. “She will make a fool out of herself and ridicule this family! She needs to be educated properly here, at home.”

Your father sighs. “Girls, you know I have tried with your sister, but she has become too complacent for my teachings. I trust Colonel Baek and his family to educate her about becoming well-behaved.”

“Father!” Jimin yells, utterly displeased. “Minji is not some farm animal you can dispose of as you please! She is part of this family, and her careless behavior is ours to own.”

“You cannot send her away or we might lose her forever.”

Your father shakes his head. “I’m sorry, girls, but my decision has been made. Minji will live with the Baek family and we will pray for success to come her way.”

You both scoff at him, infuriated by his carelessness. You leave his office and travel to the den in the kitchen, where your aunt and uncle are quietly eating. They have decided to stay for a while after dropping off Jimin.

Your aunt calls your name with joy. “Oh, you must join us this time out to the gardens in the district. It would do you well to take in some fresh air.”

You smile politely and take a seat on the bench across from your aunt. Your mind is still whirling at the thought of Minji, all alone, faring for herself at the countryside.

“I am satisfied staying here. I just returned from a trip to see a friend.”

Your uncle waves you off. “Come with us! There are many soldiers stationed in the area and plenty of suitors for your eyes to take in.”

“I have no desire to converse with them, uncle. Men are overtaken by their own arrogance or stupidity, and it would be a waste of my time to entertain them.”

Your aunt laughs mockingly at your pessimistic declaration.

“Well, what a voice of bitterness! My dear, do not allow your opinion of one man to cloud the wonderful soldiers who could bend and worship the ground you walk on,” your aunt advises.

You shake your head in disagreement.

“Men bring nothing but heartache.”

—

Much to your chagrin, your aunt and uncle convince you to travel with them through the district.

You are slightly grateful for their coercion as the breathtaking weather allows you to take a break from your resounding problems, albeit momentarily.

You stop in the middle of the journey as one of the wheels on your carriage is starting to lose its weight, and the coachman requires you to pull over so he can fix it. You lean on one of the nearby trees as your aunt and uncle sit beside you.

“Where exactly are we?” You ask, taking a look at your surroundings, yet all that encompasses you is trees.

“I believe we are close to the Lee estate.”

Your ears perk up. “Lee Jeno?”

“Yes, that’s the fellow,” your uncle murmurs. “I heard his estate is surrounded by a great lake. I have an immense desire to see it for myself.”

“Oh, let’s not,” you immediately object.

Your aunt and uncle turn to you with a raised eyebrow, curious about your swift rejection.

You clear your throat. “I mean, he is awfully busy, I am sure. We would not want to bother him.”

“Do not fret, dear,” your aunt assures. “Great men like him are usually never home.”

You swallow down your further protests, refusing to tell your aunt and uncle the real reason why you cannot see Jeno again.

Once the carriage is fixed, you travel to the Lee estate. As many have vouched, the estate expands beyond your wildest dreams. A large lake covers the entire front yard, with more windows and doors around the house than you could ever conjure up in your mind.

One of the maidens comes out to greet you. Your aunt and uncle are eager to receive a tour and you glance around, picturing the spots where Jeno would walk through, probably dragging that awful trench coat behind him. You giggle at the thought.

“Has something caught your interest, ma’am?” The maiden asks you and you jump, quickly wiping the smile off of your face.

“Oh, no, no. I was simply wondering if Mr. Lee’s sister was home.”

She nods. “Yes, the young girl is likely wrapped up in her piano lesson. You may go search for her while I show your aunt and uncle the gardens if you wish.”

Your aunt touches your arm fondly. “Meet us back at the lodging when you are finished.”

You faintly hear the sound of the piano drift from upstairs, and you follow the noise. You drink in your sights as you go, marveling at the expensive marble columns and gold accents of the house. You ponder over the idea of Jeno choosing the decorations himself.

You finally find the door to one of the drawing rooms, and you open it by a sliver. You catch a glimpse of Jayoon’s long hair with her back turned towards you, her fingers playing a melody as if she had memorized it from birth. You gape at the young girl’s talent.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest when Jeno’s frame comes into view, tapping Jayoon on the shoulder and surprising her. She gasps and jumps into his arms, clearly not expecting his presence.

You make the mistake of moving your foot, which causes the hard flooring to creak beneath your weight. The sound alerts Jeno and his head turns to the entrance of the doorway, where he catches your eye.

You wheeze, quickly spinning around and darting back down the stairs. You must look like a clumsy oaf but you do not care, trying your best at getting as far from the estate as possible. You manage to find yourself outside, but before you can descend down the back entryway, you hear Jeno calling your name.

You squeeze your eyes shut momentarily before slowly facing him.

“I-I apologize, I thought you were out of town.”

He swallows, his once confident stare now filled with nothing but anxiety.

“I came home a day early,” he explains.

He’s wearing that long trench coat again. You wonder if he ever takes it off.

“We wouldn’t have come if we had known you were here-“

“I had some business with my steward-“

You both pause when you realize you’re speaking over one another. His eyes soften at the sight of you.

You avoid his gaze.

“I’m visiting with my aunt and uncle.”

He nods. “And are you having a pleasant trip?”

You blink nervously. “Yes. Tomorrow we are heading to the district before going back home.”

“Tomorrow?” You swear you hear the disappointment in his voice, but it could be a figment of your imagination. “Are you staying nearby?”

You nod and tell him where you’ll be lodging. You place your hand over your chest in an attempt to control your frenzied heartbeat.

“I apologize again for intruding. They said the house was open for visitors and I had no idea you would be home-“

“You’re always welcome here,” he says, his voice filled with honesty. Goosebumps rise on your arms at his frank statement. “Shall I see you into town?”

“No, no,” you object, taking a step back. “I would much prefer to walk. I like to do that — to walk.”

You want to hit yourself over the head. You sound foolish.

Jeno just smiles, laughing to himself. You do not think you have ever seen him this way. Your stomach erupts with butterflies at the sight of his handsome grin.

“Yes, I’m well acquainted with that fact.”

You stare down at your feet, recalling the day you had run nearly three miles in the rain instead of waiting for Yujin and Yuta’s carriage. You’re curious if Jeno had to also run that far just to catch you. Did he catch a cold?

“I shall see myself off then. Goodbye, Mr. Lee.”

You curtsy, refusing to take another glance at him before fleeing the grounds of the estate.

You think about him on your walk back into the village. You envision him as a child, running through the gardens and playing games with the staff. You smile at the thought.

When you find the inn you’ll be staying at for the night, you inform your aunt and uncle of your return before slipping into your room. You decide to freshen up before supper, ridding your mind of any thoughts related to Jeno. You remind yourself that you will likely not see him again, so any of these confusing feelings that are rising need to be squashed.

Your aunt and uncle, however, have a different idea when you join them downstairs.

“My dear, Mr. Lee was just here!”

“What?”

“Yes!” Your uncle is overjoyed. “He invited us to dine with him tomorrow. You don’t mind delaying our journey another day, do you?”

“I-I suppose not.”

An ominous shiver runs down your spine.

—

A lively tune greets you at the Lee estate.

You pause when you see Jayoon playing at the keys with Jeno standing beside the piano to hear her. She stops when she sees you enter the drawing room, jumping up and running over to curtsy before you. She says your name with clear fondness.

You smile and return the curtsy, a little startled by her warmth towards you.

“My sister, Jayoon,” Jeno introduces, walking over. Your breath hitches at his presence.

“My brother has told me so much about you,” Jayoon beams. Your eyes flit to Jeno’s frame, and his head is bowed slightly in embarrassment. “I feel as if we are friends already.”

“It is an honor to finally meet you,” you say. “You play the piano beautifully.”

She bashfully stares down at her feet. “You flatter me so. My brother tells me you’re an exceptional player as well.”

You laugh. “Then he has uttered the most ridiculous lie.”

Jeno chuckles, staring yearningly at you.

“To be fair, I said you were a good player.”

“Ah, well good is not quite exceptional, now is it?”

He smiles at your jest. You both fail to notice how long you have been gazing at one another until Jayoon clears her throat. You divert your eyes and Jeno ignores how red his ears have gotten.

He addresses your aunt and uncle, who are standing behind you.

“I have heard your uncle is fond of fishing.”

“Yes, very much so,” your uncle replies with elation.

“I would be honored if you joined me out on the lake today,” Jeno invites, and your uncle nearly jumps for joy.

“And what about you?” Jayoon asks. “Do you play duets on the piano?”

You chuckle. “Not if I can help it.”

“Oh, brother, you must make her!” Jayoon says playfully.

Jeno looks at you. “She has quite the independent mind, dear sister. I am afraid I cannot make her do anything she does not wish.”

You do not return his stare, fearing you’ll get lost in his eyes.

Jeno and your uncle head to the lake to begin their fishing session while you and your aunt stay with Jayoon to chat and play the piano. You’re in the midst of drinking tea when Jayoon says something that nearly causes you to choke.

“My brother talks of you quite a lot,” Jayoon reveals with a knowing smile. Your aunt’s eyebrow ticks up. “He says you are different from the noblewomen we usually conversate with.”

“Yes, that sounds like something he would say,” you murmur, refusing to peer over at your aunt, who you know has a million questions to bombard you with. “I do not believe your brother chats with many noblewomen to begin with.”

Jayoon giggles. “You would fare on the correct side in relation to that guess. I have desired for him to find a lifelong partner but there has been no one who has peaked his interest until recently.”

You fiddle with your teacup, ignoring Jayoon’s smirk.

Your aunt’s puzzled tone speaks first. “How long has Mr. Lee been acquainted with my niece?”

“A few months only,” you answer before Jayoon can say something else that would embarrass you. “We met when Mr. Na first came into town.”

“Ah yes,” your aunt sighs, very familiar with Jaemin considering Jimin stayed in her home for weeks to capture his attention. “Does Mr. Na come to visit here often, Jayoon?”

She shakes her head. “Not as much lately. I believe he has been preoccupied for most of the season.”

Your aunt grumbles under her breath. You’re pleased by her disdain for Jaemin, understanding how tough this time has been for Jimin.

A maiden suddenly knocks on the door and Jayoon instructs her to enter. She says she has a letter for you and you furrow your eyebrows, taking the envelope from her hands. You recognize Jimin’s handwriting and rip open the letter immediately.

You gasp when you read its contents, placing Jayoon and your aunt on high alert.

“What is it, dear? What’s happened?”

You clutch your chest, heaving. “W-We must return home! At once!”

The two women try to stop you but you sprint out of the house and onto the lake, calling for your uncle with the most desperate voice you can muster. Jeno spots you first, quickly dropping his fishing rod and rushing over to you.

“What’s wrong? Are you injured?”

He clutches your elbows, scanning your figure for any visible wounds. You cannot stop the tears flowing down your face, your mind too overtaken with fear to think about how close Jeno is.

“It’s Minji,” you cry. “S-She has run away! With Lee Donghyuck!”

You crumble and he wraps his arms around you. Your uncle hurriedly comes to your side.

“What? When has this happened?”

“I do not know,” you choke back on your tears as Jeno gently wipes them away. “They do not know where she has gone! She has no money, no connections, no future!”

“This is my fault,” Jeno whispers. “I should have exposed Donghyuck.”

Your uncle gently takes the letter from your fingers, reading the words for himself. You hear Jayoon and your aunt approach, catching their breath from chasing you.

“What is it? What has her so enervated?” Your aunt questions.

Your uncle relays the message, including the part where your father has gone to the Baek family to search for Minji.

Jeno strokes your hair in comfort and you knock back your better judgment, digging your face into the collar of his trench coat.

“We must find Minji as soon as we can,” your aunt gasps. “If the news gets out, the family will be ruined!”

“I will fix it,” Jeno says with conviction.

You shake your head. “You can’t. This is my fault — I should have told my family the truth about Donghyuck or this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Do not blame yourself,” Jeno hisses, cupping his hands over your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. His eyes are filled with steadfast determination. “We will get this sorted.”

“I shall join your father in his search for Minji,” your uncle declares. “Mr. Lee, I ask for your favor in borrowing one of your carriages.”

“Of course,” Jeno agrees. “Jayoon, please show him the way.”

Jayoon casts another glance at you embraced in Jeno’s arms before guiding your uncle away.

“I will ask for our carriage to be prepared to take you home,” your aunt says, also leaving the two of you.

You sniffle, feeling shameful by your appearance in front of Jeno. He stares at you in distress.

“I apologize for my behavior-“

“I wish you would cease asking forgiveness in front of me. You never have to.”

Your breath hitches at his candor. Your bodies are as close to one another as the rainy day he first confessed to you. If you tilt your head forward a few inches, you could plant a kiss on his lips.

You compose yourself and take a step back.

“Mr. Lee, I-I should go.”

“Yes, yes,” he mumbles, clearly taken aback by his own actions. “I hope your family can remedy the situation.”

You turn to leave but he stutters out a request.

“And please, take care of yourself.”

You glance back at him, eyes welled with tears.

“You as well, Mr. Lee.”

—

When you return home, your mother is bedridden and wailing.

You and Jimin gather around her bed as she sobs. “Oh, what shall we do? You are all ruined. Who will wed you now with a fallen sister? And now your poor father will have to go off and fight Lee Donghyuck!”

You and Jimin exchange a glance. Jimin clears her throat.

“Father hasn’t even found Mr. Lee yet, mother.”

Your mother ignores her and continues. “And then Mr. Nakamoto will turn us out when your father is killed! Oh, Minji must know what this will do for my nerves. How can she vex her poor mother like this?”

You decide to head downstairs, agreeing that your mother’s avid concerns would not be subdued any time soon. You frown when you see Minjeong in the kitchen, holding a letter in her hands.

“What have you got there?”

Jimin snatches it out of Minjeong’s grasp and scans it herself. “It’s addressed to father. It’s in uncle’s writing.”

You hear the familiar sound of the carriage pulling up and you all dart outside, frantically waving the letter around.

“Father! Father!”

He groans, taking a step out of the carriage. “Let me get my bearings first.”

“It’s a letter for you! From uncle!” You say, thrusting it into his hands.

He opens it as he walks back to the house, dismissing your frantic jumping to read the contents.

“Well?” Minjeong says impatiently. “What does it say?”

“He’s found them.”

Jimin gasps. “Are they married?”

He squints. “I cannot make out the script-“

You seize it and read it for yourself. Jimin and Minjeong lurk over your shoulder.

“Are they married?” Jimin asks again.

You sigh. “They will be, under the condition that father pays Lee Donghyuck a small sum for Minji per year.”

Minjeong scoffs. “A small sum! How barbaric!”

“Well? Will you pay it, father?” Jimin questions. Minjeong takes the letter from you to read it again.

“Of course I will agree. The matter of the question is how much your uncle has already laid on this wretched man,” your father exhales, walking back into the house sluggishly.

You turn to Jimin. “What does he mean?”

She shrugs. “Uncle must have threatened Mr. Lee wickedly. For the situation, with the three of us still unmarried and the family’s reputation hanging by a thread, Mr. Lee would be foolish to only settle for a small sum.”

You scowl. “Heaven forbid the day we have to welcome that wretched man into the family.”

The day comes sooner than you think. Minji and Donghyuck arrive a few weeks later, with Minji beaming at her newfound status as a married woman. You roll your eyes at her airy nature at the dinner table.

“You must all visit the Baek family soon. That is the place to get husbands! I hope you have half of my good luck.”

“Good luck?” Minjeong scoffs. “You nearly ruined our family!”

Your mother scolds Minjeong for her outburst before turning to Minji with a smile.

“I want to hear every detail, my darling Minji.”

You and Jimin chuckle at your mother’s quick change in heart. She was out of bed and celebrating as soon as you told her the news of Minji getting married.

You exchange a look with Donghyuck across the table, and he appears remorseful. You mock him and laugh.

Minji rattles off the story about the last few weeks with Donghyuck and their wedding. You tell her you do not want to hear it but she ignores you.

“I wondered if my dear Donghyuck would be married in his blue coat, as I love the way he looks in it. And of course, because of the quick ceremony, I worried that uncle would not make it in time to be the best man. Luckily, he arrived on time or else I would’ve had to ask Mr. Lee Jeno but I don’t really like that man.”

You pause. “Lee Jeno?”

Minji gasps and covers her mouth, making sure no one else at the table heard her slip up. “Oh heavens, I forgot. I should not have said a word.”

You prod her further. “Mr. Lee was at your wedding?”

She lowers her voice into a whisper, and you realize she cannot help herself in dishing out the truth.

“He was the one who discovered us. He paid for everything — the wedding ceremony, Donghyuck’s sum, all of my new dresses, everything!” Her elated expression turns serious. “But do not say a word to anyone! He told me not to tell.”

You’re astounded by the secret. “M-Mr. Lee?” You clarify for your own sanity.

She shoots you a sour look. “Quit it!”

You sit back in your chair, feeling as if you need to catch your breath. You cannot believe Jeno went out of his way to save Minji and fix her horrid nuptials to Donghyuck. It’s no wonder that Donghyuck only asked for a small sum from your father as Jeno must have paid the rest.

You digest the information, wondering how it was possible for a man like Lee Jeno to exist and how it was possible that he so clearly loved a girl like you.

—

You hear rumors of Jaemin’s return to town, pushing Jimin to a state of disarray. She insists she does not care about his arrival, but when a local butcher tells you that he comes without a woman by his side, her interest is clearly piqued. You attempt to convince her to locate him, but she still persists she does not care about the origin of his visit.

You are lounging in the drawing room when Minjeong comes bursting through the door.

“He is here! Mr. Na is here!”

Her announcement sends the room into a frenzy, with your mother gasping and shooting out of her chair, nearly tripping over the furniture. Jimin is on her feet, combing her fingers through her hair and straightening her dress. You flee to the window, shocked when you see not only Jaemin approaching, but Jeno walking right beside him.

“Act natural, girls!” Your mother shouts, struggling to stand.

You quickly draw back from the window, hand over your heart. You are not thoroughly prepared to face Jeno again, especially now knowing how far he has gone to ensure your family wasn’t laid to ruin.

Your mother pushes Minjeong down into a seat and shoves some fabric into her hands to make it appear like she’s been embroidering. Jimin cries at you in despair and you help her tie a ribbon around her waist and brush her hair.

Your mother throws you a book and you all hurriedly sit in different areas of the room, looking as natural as you possibly can.

There is a knock on the door before one of your handmaidens enters.

“Mr. Na and Mr. Lee,” she introduces, stepping aside so the men can set foot in.

You all stand, curtsying as they bow. You beg your heart rate to stop thumping in your ears.

Jeno looks so attractive that it makes you want to curl into yourself and scream. He avoids your gaze, and you contemplate if he no longer wants to be with you because of Minji’s incident.

Jaemin opens his mouth to speak, but your mother beats him to it.

“How glad we are to see you again, Mr. Na! I am sure you have heard of my youngest getting married while you were away. We are very proud of her accomplishments.”

Jaemin smiles politely. “Yes, I heard the great news. I offer my congratulations.”

His eyes drift to Jimin’s form, and you see your sister smile timidly at him.

Your mother continues. “It is a shame that Mr. Lee Donghyuck lives so far. Having my youngest taken away at such an early age is no easy feat.”

You interrupt her, hoping to salvage the conversation for Jimin’s sake.

“How long are you in town for, Mr. Na?”

“Just a few weeks for the hunt.”

You forget that now is the best time for hunting season, and many men in town partake in the activity. Your eyes flit once again to Jeno’s form, and you catch him staring at you briefly before he looks away. The butterflies in your stomach will surely make you ill.

“Oh, Mr. Na, you must come here once you get bored of the game in town. My husband would love to oblige you,” your mother invites.

Jaemin’s smile never wavers. “Yes, that sounds splendid. Thank you.”

“How are you, Mr. Lee?” You ask.

You cannot help yourself. You have dreamed about him since you left the estate and he has to take accountability for your sleepless nights.

He momentarily glances at you. “I’m quite well, thank you.”

“I hope the weather is favorable when you go hunting,” you say.

He nods. “I return home tomorrow. I will not be participating in this year’s hunt.”

Your heart drops. “So soon?”

He refuses to look at you again.

“My Jimin looks beautiful, does she not?” Your mother questions Jaemin.

He stutters. “O-Oh yes, she does indeed.”

The room is filled with silence, and while you’re pleading for Jeno to look at you, Jimin is desperately wanting Jaemin to say more.

Jaemin swallows before clearing his throat. “W-Well, we must be going, I think. It was lovely to see you all again.”

“You must come visit,” your mother reminds him. “You promised last time you were in town that you would attend a family dinner.”

Jaemin awkwardly nods before scurrying out of the house. Jeno lingers, looking disappointed.

He bows his head. “Excuse me.”

The request for him to stay lays on the tip of your tongue but he exits before you can ask.

Once the two men are gone, you all collapse back in your seats. You rush to Jimin’s side as your mother voices, “How unusual!”

Your sister seems as optimistic as ever, despite the gloomy look in her eye.

“Perhaps that was for the best,” she hollowly laughs. “Now I will not have to go to bed wondering about my fate. He’s clearly moved on and is no longer interested.”

“Jimin,” you sigh, placing a hand over hers. “You do not have to fabricate your feelings to me. I may also be hiding some truths that I am not content with.”

Her head whips around. “Like what?”

Before you can finally tell her your secret, Minjeong’s voice screeches.

“He is back!”

“What?” Your mother screams, flinging her body at the window.

You catch the billowing of Jaemin’s coat before you’re being hauled up again by your mother. Jaemin enters the room in a more uncoordinated fashion, not even alerting the handmaiden so she can announce his presence. His hair is sticking up in random directions, indicating he was likely running his hands through it nervously.

“I apologize for my abrupt actions, but I would like to request an audience with Jimin if I may.”

All of your mouths drop open. Your mother speaks first.

“Everyone into the kitchen,” she instructs, and you nearly trip when she pushes you forward.

You grab Minjeong’s wrist and tug her with you. Your mother closes the door behind her and all three of you immediately press your ears against it to listen in.

“First, I must tell you that I have been a halfwitted and reckless fool,” you hear Jaemin start to say. You scoff, internally agreeing with him. Minjeong elbows you to be quiet. “And second, I want to atone for the months I have been away. My fair Jimin, I will wrong you no further. Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You all gasp.

Moments pass before Jimin’s shaky voice replies, “Yes, a thousand times yes!”

Your mother bursts open the door and screeches in delight.

“My heavens, I never believed the day would come!”

You hurry in to envelope Jimin in a hug and congratulate her. The embrace gives you a direct view of the window, where a stony Lee Jeno stands in a far distance. You hold your breath, hoping he would come inside as well and give his own second version of a proposal. You would not hesitate to accept this time.

However, he merely situates himself there for a few seconds longer before turning away and leaving. You shut your eyes, quelling the ache in your chest and pulling Jimin closer to congratulate her once again.

—

That night, you giggle as you lay in bed with your sister.

“A spring wedding!” She exclaims, and your heart is full at the sight of her happiness. “Oh, he just looked so nervous but he had no idea how my heart was pounding out of my chest, sister. I wish for you to be this happy one day.”

Unlike the way Minji declared it to demean you, Jimin says it with pure virtue.

You fake a smile, thinking about how you screwed up your chances of ever being with Jeno.

“Maybe Mr. Nakamoto has a friend.”

She bursts into laughter at your joke and you pretend to share her joy. Your satisfaction, however, is broken by the sound of a carriage pulling up outside.

You frown. “Do you hear that?”

It was already well past midnight, so if a visitor was approaching, it must have been with urgent news. You and Jimin hop out of bed and rush downstairs, where the rest of your family is also starting to gather.

There’s a knock at the door and your father wobbles over to answer it.

You gasp when you see who is behind it.

“L-Lady Park?”

The woman shuffles in haggardly, and you all curtsy and bow at her presence. She looks disturbed, mouth twisted into an angry frown.

Your father awkwardly talks first. “May I offer you a cup of tea, madam?”

“Absolutely not. I need to speak with your second oldest alone.”

All eyes turn to you. You swallow and step forward, gesturing to the drawing room and leading Lady Park inside. You shut the door, placing a candle on a nearby table to provide you some semblance of sight.

Your palms sweat at the thought of what Lady Park had to confront you with. Perhaps you should not have messed around with Jimin — maybe Lady Park really was here to marry you off to one of Mr. Nakamoto’s friends.

“I am sure you are not puzzled by the reasoning behind my visit.”

You blink. “You are mistaken, ma’am. I cannot conjure up why you have honored my family here tonight by your presence.”

She scowls. “I warn you, dear girl, I am not one to be trifled with. A message has reached me that my nephew, Mr. Lee, has intended to unite you in the union of marriage.” You freeze, your mind running through a myriad of scenarios. “I know this to be a scandalous falsehood, so I instantly traveled here to make my sentiments known.”

You narrow your eyes at her degrading tone. “If you had thought the rumor so impossible, I ponder why you decided to travel so far.”

She steps forward, her scowl transforming into an expression filled with more hatred.

“I came to hear it be contradicted.”

“Your appearance will only serve as a confirmation if indeed such a report exists,” you say.

“If?” She spits out bitterly. “Are you meaning to pretend to not know of it? Were you not the one who started such a malicious lie to bring down the reputation of my dear nephew?”

“I have never heard of it!” You defend yourself.

“So my nephew has not made you an offer of marriage?”

You raise your head high. “You are the one who has declared such a thing to be impossible.”

You can practically see her shake with rage. “Mr. Lee has been engaged to my daughter since their infancy. Now what have you to say?”

“If that is the case, then there is no reason Mr. Lee would make an offer to me.”

“You listen to me, you selfish girl — if you think a woman of inferior birth with a scandalous sister who married the first suitor she came across can come in and tarnish Mr. Lee’s reputation, I will surely prove you wrong. Now tell me the truth, are you engaged to him?”

You contain yourself. “I am not.”

“And do you promise to never enter such an engagement?”

You put your foot down. You refuse to allow this woman to come into your home, insult you, and forbid you from marrying the man you know you yearn for.

“I shall never promise such a thing. You have traveled here in the dead of night to offend me in every possible way and I will tolerate it no longer. I must ask you to leave.”

You swing open the door, exposing your entire family on the opposite side of it, who were likely listening in on your ordeal. Lady Park gives you one last glance, and if looks could kill, you would be six feet underground.

“I have never been so disrespected in my entire life!” Lady Park declares before taking her leave, shutting the front door with great force.

“My dear, what is going on?”

“Why does she think something is happening between you and Mr. Lee?”

“Did Mr. Lee propose to you?”

You flee from your family’s questioning, running up the stairs with tears in your eyes.

“For once in your life, leave me alone!”

—

It is the break of dawn when you decide to take a walk.

You could not sleep all night. Jimin slipped into your bed at one point and comforted you wordlessly, wrapping her arms around you. You thought about Jeno and Lady Park’s scornful words. If you had a little less dignity, you would have told her how her nephew proposed to you but in all your stupidity, you denied him. She would probably get a laugh out of that.

You stare down at your feet, kicking around the patches of weeds childishly. Your breath hitches when another pair of shoes land before you.

You raise your head to see Lee Jeno standing there in all of his glory.

You say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nor I.”

You nod, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders. “Your aunt was here-“

“I should make amends for such insolent behavior.”

You shake your head. “After everything you have done to save Minji and I suspect to help Jimin, I should be the one apologizing for my behavior.”

“I told you that you never have to apologize to me, didn’t I? You must know I did all of it for you.” He says, smiling. You wonder if you could ever be this infatuated with another human being. “I came here because I beg you not to trifle with me. My aunt’s visit has provided me hope — a feeling I thought had disappeared months ago. I plead with you to tell me if your affections have changed.”

He takes a step closer to you. His eyes melt with a familiar fondness.

“If they have changed, I must tell you that you have bewitched me, body and soul. I love you, and I wish to never be parted from you from this day forth.”

You can no longer hold back your grin. You close the distance, gently tugging on the lapels of his dreary trench coat. You press your lips to his and his control officially snaps, one hand wrapping around your middle and tugging you closer. He kisses you with fervor, as if it is the last thing on earth he will ever get to do.

You giggle and pull back to catch your breath.

“Tell me, please,” he whispers with desperation. “I can bear it no longer.”

“I love you,” you say, stroking your fingers through his hair. “I love, love, love you.”

He kisses you again, hand traveling to the back of your neck and pulling you as close as humanly possible. He kisses you like he is afraid that you will slip out of his grasp. Warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach at his obvious desire.

“W-We should speak to my father,” you pant against his mouth.

“Yes, yes,” he agrees, catching his own breath. “A spring wedding? Or we could get married now, I have no objection-“

You giggle. “Mr. Lee, don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

“I cannot help it. I have waited too long for you to be in my embrace.”

“Then we shall not wait a second longer.”

—

You marry Lee Jeno on a beautiful day in spring.

The ceremony is simple at your request, and your mother cries when you walk down the aisle. Yujin sobs when she sees you in a veil, joyful that you have finally found your happy ending.

Your father was initially confused when you came to his office hand in hand with your betrothed until you explained to him the true nature of your feelings and all of the actions Jeno had taken to save your family. Jimin and Minjeong demanded to know all of the details you kept from them, and Minji even traveled into town to also hear your side of events.

Jeno has the wedding planned faster than you can blink, stressing that he cannot endure another day without you as his wife.

You have awoken something primal in him, and it shows on your wedding night.

He nearly breaks open the bedroom door as he pushes you in, shutting it loudly and practically throwing you on the bed. You laugh when he hovers over you, pressing kisses down your neck.

“Jeno, Jeno,” you hum, smiling as he tugs your wedding dress up. “Slow down, my love.”

“I want to taste you,” he groans against your collarbone.

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. You have only heard stories about what happens between a husband and his wife in their bedroom. They were usually filled with salacious recountings from many of the schoolgirls around you growing up. You honestly have no idea what you’re in for tonight, but all you know is that you would let Jeno take you at his heart’s desire.

“Too many buttons,” he grumbles against your chest, and you gasp when he rips your dress clean down the middle.

“Jeno!” You begin to scold but it turns into a moan when his lips latch onto your left breast, tongue flicking at your nipple lewdly.

“You’re mine, are you not? My wife, my forever,” he mumbles, kissing down your stomach until he is face to face with your core.

You tense at the sight of him being so close to an intimate part of your body. He senses your nerves, looking up at you and interlacing his hands with yours.

“It is quite alright, Mrs. Lee,” he smirks at your new surname. “You can trust me.”

You take a deep breath and relax. “I trust you.”

The first swipe of his tongue against your core takes your breath away. Your spine arches at the exhilarating feeling. He moves your hand until it is resting on his hair, urging you to pull at the strands as you please.

He laps at your folds eagerly, lips mouthing over you passionately. You cry when he suddenly takes your clit in his mouth and sucks hard.

He unlocks a new type of pleasure you never believed was possible — tremors running down your body as you chase the high. You fail to realize your hips are moving on their own accord, twisting and riding his face.

When the pleasure begins to subside, Jeno pulls away and lets you catch your breath.

“What was that?” You wheeze.

He chuckles, hoisting himself up to kiss you. He trails kisses across your cheek.

“Did it feel good, my pearl?”

“I-I need to feel that again.”

His laughter is like music to your ears. He nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Would you like me to show you how much better I can make you feel?”

You nod and he raises his head to see you. “I love you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you again.

Since the day you confessed your feelings, he hasn’t failed to remind you of his love nearly every hour of every day.

“When this is over, will I bear your child?” You ask, genuinely curious about the answer.

He strokes your hair gently. “Is that something you want?”

You laugh and bob your head. “Of course. We simply cannot live in this grand house by ourselves. I fear I will go hysterical.”

“Then we will have as many children as you like, Mrs. Lee.”

He begins to undress and you eye him as respectfully as you can. You wish you had known Jeno was hiding his muscular glory underneath those boring trench coats. You likely would not have rejected him the first time if you were made aware.

“Please resist drooling.”

You narrow your eyes playfully. “You’re my husband. I may drool as I please.”

He grins and throws his coat and shirt to the side, slowly unbuttoning his pants. Your mouth waters when he finally takes off his undergarments.

His cock is beautiful, if you’re even allowed to say that. Pretty and pink and long. A bit of liquid leaks from the tip and you suddenly get a craving to taste it.

“We have all the time for you to do that later. I want to show you a good time now,” he says as if he can read your mind.

You smile and pull him close, pressing your lips together. You watch as he gives his cock a few tugs before lining it up to your entrance.

“This may hurt at first, but I promise it will feel satisfactory if you loosen your body,” he says, ensuring that you are listening carefully.

You nod, happy twinkle never disappearing from your eyes.

“I trust you.”

The first thrust is painful. You exhale, focusing on not tensing up your body too much as Jeno instructed. He soothes you, fingers running up and down your sides lightly.

“You are so perfect for me,” he hums. “I should have married you sooner.”

When he’s finally all the way inside, you take a deep breath. He rests his forehead on yours.

“Good?”

You stroke his cheek fondly. “Good, my love.”

He rolls his hips into yours and you groan. He picks up a steady beat until the furrow in your brow vanishes. A wave of pleasure shoots up your spine and you gasp, triggering Jeno to pick up his pace.

He grips the headboard tightly between his fingers, planting his knees on the mattress before driving into you.

“O-Oh!” You moan, not anticipating how intoxicating this would feel.

You raise your hips and subconsciously move to meet his thrusts. He groans at your effort, slowly losing it at how tight you feel around him.

“Here,” he says, moving one hand downwards to pinch your clit and roll it between his fingers.

“Ungh,” you wail, throwing your head back. “That’s so good, Jeno. Keep going.”

Vulgar sounds fill the bedroom with skin slapping skin and your moans mixed with his grunts. You probably look maniacal with the way you’re desperately chasing your high, but you have no care in the world right now.

Your mind is merely screaming Jeno’s name.

He collapses back on you, kissing you with an intensity you could not describe. You swear you see stars explode behind your eyes.

“May I try something?” He pants into your mouth.

You agree and he withdraws himself from you, nearly causing you to whimper at the loss. He grabs your hips and twists you around, taking off the scraps of your dress and flinging it to the floor. His hand pushes down your head and arches your back. You turn your head to the side and moan.

“Please, Jeno, please-“

He eases himself back inside, answering your pleas.

He breathes heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. “You are torturing me beyond no end.”

This position hits a different spot inside of you. You mewl, clawing at the sheets. You have never felt closer to Jeno until this moment with the way his cock fits so perfectly inside of you.

He leans down to press kisses to your shoulders.

“May I use you as I wish?”

The question almost has you whining.

“Whatever you like, my love. Please, use me for your pleasure.”

He drills into you, forcing his cock into your dripping hole until you weep for him. You bury your face into his pillow, preventing your screams from growing too loud when you ultimately fall into your second climax. It hits a lot harder than the first, especially since Jeno shows no signs of stopping.

You cry when he changes positions again, falling to his side and moving you to do the same, hiking up your leg until it’s wrapped around his hip. He angles himself so that he hits you deeper.

You wonder if you look like a woman vexed, completely overtaken by lust. He pounds into you to coax your third orgasm to come to bay.

You beg for him, unsure of what you’re pleading for.

“Please, please, please-“

His hand strikes at your clit, slapping it with an unexpected force. You dive headfirst into your peak, crying and whimpering until your throat is sore.

Your body tries to squirm away from Jeno’s sharp thrusts but he doesn’t let you, holding you down and turning you so that your stomach presses against the mattress again.

His cock beats into your soaking cunt before he reaches his own high, groaning loudly as he spills his seed deep into you. It is only then that he finally slows down, collapsing onto the bed and pulling you into his arms.

You both pant, trying to catch your breath as his cum leaks down your thighs.

“So we can do that all the time now?” You huff.

He laughs and kisses your forehead.

“Whenever you would like, Mrs. Lee.”

[ellecdc]

hii!! i rlly like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request ? remus (or wolfstar ) x reader where its like posthogwarts and she went to a diff wizarding school and the wizard thing was hush hush cuz she was a muggle, but then one day she like accidentally uses magic and they were like “ omg wait what” and like yeah. anyways pls feel free to ignore this its a very odd request LMAO. thank you so so much for taking the time to read this !!! (im sorry if this sounds weird i dk how to talk to ppl) ok bye 🫶

this was a very cute prompt! thank you so much for your request and your patience in my writing it!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who they believe to be a muggle [1.8k words]

CW: fear of werewolf prejudice, fear of muggle born prejudice, I also included a line in French and you can find the translation at the bottom of the work

Sirius knew that they were, perhaps, being a little bit selfish by keeping such a big secret from you.

Statute of Secrecy be damned, they were well beyond the point in your relationship where they could have (and likely should have) told you that he and Remus were wizards (oh, and, while we’re at it, Remus turns into a beast once a month so there’s that, too). 

And while their friends all suspected it was Remus who was hesitant to tell you the truth on account of his lycanthropy, it had actually been Sirius who kept procrastinating the long overdue conversation.

But Sirius had to admit that he was very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he wasn’t willing to muck it up by scaring you off. How many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

Sirius had already met Remus which felt like nothing short of destiny, and then they met you, and that felt prophetic. And who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy? 

“You cannot chicken out tonight.” Remus muttered as Sirius rapped on your door, earning him an indignant scoff from his boyfriend. 

“I’ve never once chickened out in my entire life, thank you very much. That’s why I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

Remus merely snorted. “Sure, that’s why this is our seventh attempt at breaking the news, yeah?”

Sirius refused to look at Remus before banging (slightly louder) on your door once more before you finally opened up.

Gods you were so bloody beautiful; smiling like you couldn’t physically be any happier that your two boys were here, eyes excited and bright and so full of love and fuck sakes he couldn’t do it.

“Hey dove.” Remus greeted for the both of them, seeing as Sirius’ brain was short circuiting on account of your beauty and loveliness, pressing a kiss to your hairline and all but shoving Sirius past the threshold of your door. “It smells amazing, what are you making?”

Your smile seemed to grow impossibly brighter at the praise. “A vegetable bake! It’s sort of Mediterranean, and I’m making pasta to go with it.” You explained excitedly, and Sirius honestly felt like he was going to start overflowing with the amount of fondness he had for you.

“You going to say hello to our girl, Siri? Or are you just going to keep staring at her?” Remus taunted as he walked further into your flat to place the flowers he was carrying for you in a vase - the routine of bringing you bouquets every time they visited so practised that he knew where to find your vases. 

“Of course, gorgeous. Sorry for being rude.” He murmured as he pulled you into his chest and breathed you in. “You’ve got to stop answering the door looking so bloody beautiful; I completely forget myself.”

You giggled into his chest and then leaned on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips that he - the selfish bastard - didn’t find nearly enough before he pulled you into a second deeper, lingering kiss. 

“It’s good to see you, Sirius.” 

Sirius sighed happily - because really, it was even better to see you - as he shuffled the two of you towards the kitchen Remus was now fussing in. 

“Beautiful!” You cheered as Remus positioned the bouquet in the middle of your kitchen island; and Sirius could see the mischief in Remus’ eyes even if you couldn’t.

“Just like you, dove.”

And, quite possibly one of their favourite sights, they watched you turn bashful as you opted to fuss with the arrangement instead of looking at either of them. 

“Listen, sweetheart, we were wondering if perhaps before we eat, we could chat with you about something?” Remus decided to rip the bandaid, and Sirius wanted to hex him for the way your body tensed and you looked at him with what appeared to be mild horror.

“Oh- uhm, okay, yeah, sure that’s… that’s fine.” You stuttered as you moved to the kitchen table to take a seat, both boys following obediently. 

Sirius watched as Remus moved last week's bouquet - which Sirius had secretly cast a stasis charm over so that they would last longer - out of the centre of the table and closer to Sirius so that they could both have a better view of you. 

“Is…everything okay?” You asked cautiously as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Sirius wanted to throw up. 

“Of course, dovey.” Remus assured you, though it was Sirius’ thigh he gave a comforting squeeze under the table. “We just know that we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we’ve grown to care about you quite a lot- you know that, right?”

Sirius watched as the divot between your brows only deepened as you nodded hesitantly. “So much, gorgeous; we care about you so much.” He insisted when it didn’t look like you truly believed them. 

“But we just, well, we haven’t been completely honest with you, is all. And now that we’re at this point in our relationship, we…we feel like we owe it to you to be honest.” Remus continued, clearly beginning to feel just as out of his depth as Sirius was. 

Your face fell completely blank, though Sirius could tell you were still tugging nervously at your shirt sleeve.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t bad, we- I rather think I’m in love with you, and-”

But as Sirius went to reach his hand over to rub at your arm in a way he hoped to be comforting, he ended up knocking over the vase stationed in front of him.

It didn’t break, thank Merlin, but it did topple over before Sirius could catch it and the water poured over the table.

Remus went to stand quickly to avoid being soaked, but no sooner had he pushed his chair away from the table was the vase floating towards you and the water completely vanished. 

Not looking at the boys in front of you, you righted the vase and repositioned the florals to your liking before looking up at Remus who was now standing and staring at you owlishly, and Sirius who was gaping at you from his seat.

“Did you just-” Sirius started, voice no more than a whisper, but was quickly cut off by the sound of a timer in the kitchen.

You waved your hand in that direction mindlessly before sinking back despondently in your chair and staring down at your lap, the timer silent.

“Y/N.” Remus rasped. “Did- was that…are you a witch?” 

You appeared to flinch as if you’d just realised what you’d done before you looked up; all colour seemingly draining from your face.

“What? I-” You started with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? There’s no such thing as witches…”

But Sirius knew what he saw, the first could have been an accident - a trick of the mind - but the second act of magic was all the confirmation he needed.

Silently, Remus summoned the vase of flowers towards him before charming them to dance to imaginary music, plucking one from its stem and turning it gold before reaching across the table to put it behind your ear as you gaped at him. 

“You’re…a wizard?” You whispered in disbelief. 

At that, Sirius stood and spun, turning into Padfoot and panting excitedly at your feet as his tail whacked against the table leg with every wag.

A wet laugh escaped you before either boy realised you were wiping your eyes.

“Oh my gods?” 

“Awe, dovey.” Remus cooed as he moved over to Sirius’ chair so he could take your hands in his. “Don’t cry.”

“Is this what you guys were going to tell me?” You asked cautiously, hopefully. 

Padfoot melted back into Sirius, but he stayed kneeling at your feet as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your calf. “Yes, baby; this was it.” He assured you. “I’m sorry we scared you.”

“So, that boarding school you went to in France?” Remus asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Beauxbatons.” You confirmed with a nod of your head. “And your boarding school in Scotland?”

“Hogwarts.” The two boys chorused, and you all let out a chuckle.

“It’s almost embarrassing that didn’t give it away right there.” You laughed breathlessly. 

“Since we’re, uh, being honest about stuff…” Remus continued, trailing off awkwardly as he shared a grimace with Sirius. “I’m also, well, I’m also a werewolf.” 

“Oh.” You breathed quietly. 

Sirius held his breath as he watched you consider this before you nodded your head decisively. 

“I’m muggleborn.” 

Sirius and Remus shared a quick look before Remus let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is that- …what?”

“Baby, are you trading that information like we might think that’s a negative?” Sirius teased you lightly. 

“I suppose it depends on who you ask…” You whispered, and both boys softened. 

“Not us, dove.” Remus offered. “Good.” You smiled at him. “Then me too.”

“Is that really how you feel about it? About me?” Remus asked quietly. 

“No, it’s not how I feel about you.” You denied. “J'ai l'impression de tomber très amoureux de toi.” You admitted shyly, and Sirius couldn’t be held responsible for the mortifying cooing sound that resonated from the back of his throat. 

He grabbed your face roughly and started peppering you with kisses: “how”, a kiss, “did we”, a kiss, “manage to find”, another kiss, “the most brilliant and beautiful witch”, kiss kiss kiss, “in the whole world?” 

You were giggling and trying - not very hard, mind you - to pull away from Sirius’ ministrations when you stilled and let out a gasp.

“What?” Both boys paused.

“Supper!” You nearly shrieked as you went flying into the kitchen, muttering to yourself in French as you turned off the stove top and fussed with various pots and dishes. 

“I am so unbelievably in love with her.” Remus murmured, eyes glued to your form as you danced through the kitchen. 

Sirius scoffed as he leaned against his boyfriend with his arms crossed, feigning nonchalance. “I can’t believe you were so scared to tell her.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Remus to know he was glaring at him; he could feel it.

But he also felt his heart grow three sizes when you turned to look at both of them with a beaming smile and a steaming dish in front of you, completely unphased that one of your boyfriends was a werewolf even though as a witch you knew exactly what that meant. And not only were you unphased, but you were still falling in love with them regardless.

Sirius had admittedly been very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he didn’t want to muck it up by scaring you off. Because really, how many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

If meeting Remus had been destiny, meeting you was prophetic; and who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

(translation: I feel like I’m very much falling in love with you).

[scarletcomalies]

Hear. Me. Out! Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now, meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,119

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.

[iriswritesforyou]

His Mona Lisa

Warning - small violence, prejudice against mutants, and maybe some other things? IDK

Word count - 1,889

Description: Reader is a human art teacher at the school. You and Logan had both been giving each other eyes for a while now but things heat up during a field trip.

Charles Xaiver had asked you, a human, to teach at his school for mutants, as an art teacher. You were reluctant at first, not because you were scared of mutants but because you felt as if you had nothing to offer them. Your only gift rested in your ability to paint and draw, to bring the images in your mind to life, and to help the youth do the same. 

It was rocky at first, the kids were hesitant to warm up to you and you were hesitant to discipline them but that all changed one day when you introduced them to what you liked to call ‘splat balloon painting’. You had set up a canvas for each kid with balloons filled with paint next to them outside, encouraging them to throw them at the canvases. The kids loved it so much and getting paint all over you was definitely worth watching them smile and laugh. The true solidarity came when one of the kids' powers acted up and you got freezing cold acrylic paint all over you. The kid expected you to be angry like most humans would but you werent, to their surprise you just laughed it off and assured the kid you were fine. 

After that day your class was one of the favorites among the students, even the kids who had hated art in previous years found themselves enjoying your class. 

And then there was Logan, the combat instructor teacher who plagued your thoughts and little did you know you plagued him as well. It all started when one of your kids came to class all battered up and looking worse for wear claiming it was from Logan’s combat class. You didn't know much about Logan and you didn't know much about his class but you did know that your students shouldnt be showing up to class looking like they just got beat up in an alleyway. 

So you marched down into the lower levels of the school determined to scold Logan like a parent would a child. 

He was quite surprised to see a young human woman dressed in paint covered overall hanging off one of her shoulders, paint brushes stuck in her hair, and mismatched jewelry stomping up to him.

He had heard about you of course, there was a stir when you joined the campus, people whispered about you with some saying you didn’t belong and others thinking your presence would be good for future relations between humans and mutants, he didn't particularly care. This was the first time he had seen you through and you certainly left your mark on him huffing and puffing about how the kids shouldnt be showing up to class battered and bruised. 

If Logan was being honest, despite what most people thought his reaction would be, he wasn't annoyed or angry, in fact he found it a little endearing how you cared for the kids, but he pushed that down and explained to you how it wasn't his intentions but the kids have to learn somehow. 

A couple months had passed since then and you and Logan were cordial to each other, you smiled at each other in passing but nothing more than that but the rest of the teachers and even students could see how both of your eyes always found each other in a room. 

Things started to heat up when you scheduled a field trip for the students to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and Logan was going with you to help you watch the kids.

Logan knew he should have been paying more attention to the kids but he couldn't help but keep his eyes on you, the way you smiled when you explained the exhibits or how you lit up when they would ask questions. And you couldn't help but notice his watchful gaze, mostly on you and it unnerved you. Why was he staring? Was there something wrong with the way you were dressed? Something on your face? 

“Alright I want everybody to find a partner and split up, the sheet of paper I handed you all lays out the entire place and all of the attractions. Please, remember to meet up back here in an hour.” You told the kids as Logan came up beside you and you smiled at him gently “And you and I will be walking around keeping an eye on them.” he didn't say anything but nodded. 

You both had wandered over to the Museum history panel and read the date 1870, was Logan born just after that? 

“Can I ask you something personal?” He didn't even have to think about it before answering “Yes.”. 

“It says this place was founded in 1870.” your voice dropped into a whisper “weren't you born around then?” He snapped his face towards you while you stayed looking away. He wondered how you knew that you and him hadn't had a conversation in months. 

“How did you know that?” You now turned to face him completely, faces close and heart racing, he could hear it. Your eyes were locked onto each other and he couldn't help but study how the light danced in them and skin became flushed under the cool lighting, he thought he was making you scared and took a step back. He wouldn't admit it but he didn't want to take a step back. He wanted to take a step closer. 

“I’ve been - asking around, about you. I'm sorry, I should have asked you but-.” Unspoken words held in the air. 

It was your guilty pleasure to find out more about Logan, the more you knew the more you had answers and you couldn't ask him, he was, well, him. 

“You could have just asked me.” He said. You thought he would be mad, furious even but instead he looked hurt. “You're right Logan, and I’m sorry. If I’m being honest you intimidate me a little.” 

He raised one of his brows at you, he knew he had that effect on people but he didn't want it on you. “Well, you don't have to be. I don't want you to be.” His gruff voice made you stay locked onto him. 

Time could have passed for a hundred years and you both could have stayed right there forever but time didn't care what you wanted as a blood curdling scream snapped you both back to reality. 

Over in the Egyptian side of the room one of your kids and a human boy were having an all out brawl with your kid winning. Logan got there faster than you and pulled him off while the human boy quickly got up and spat at the ground by your feet, “mutant.” 

That one word was all it took for your kid to start kicking in Logan's arm, trying to claw his way back over to the human boy while he just stood there glaring. You quickly walked over to the human boy and grabbed his forearm,  “where are your parents?” and it was as if they heard you. 

A lady in an expensive looking green suit and a man twice the size of you came over, the woman with tears in her eyes, hyperventilating and the man getting red in the face with anger. 

“Let go of my son!” the man huffed getting up into your face, so close you could see the pimple about to burst on his nose. Letting go of his son you took a step back and he took one again closer to you. “Mutant bitch” It was two words now that snapped Logan into action, as he had been watching the exchange with the kid still fighting in his arms. Quickly, Logan let him go, not caring if he went back over to the human boy and started another fight. No, his only concern was you. 

Stepping in between you and the man, blocking him from your sight, they stood toe to toe. Logan was clearly taller and stronger than the man but that did nothing to deter him “And you must be her mutant bastard”. You grabbed the back of Logan's clothes hoping he wouldn't start something “Logan” you gently whispered. Logan may be an angry man but it was never for himself, he wouldn't start anything. 

It wasn't until you stepped around Logan hesitantly, still keeping your grip on him and started to try and mend the situation. “Please, ma’am, sir, we are truly, very sorry. And -”, a sickening slap echoed around the now quiet room, he had hit you and Logan wasn't going to let that slide. 

In the blink of an eye Logan pulled you back and into the arms of your mutant students who had now gathered around the both of you and punched the guy right back. 

Chaos exploded, the woman shrieked as Logan had the man jacked up against the wall as he cried, half of your kids went for the human boy who had bullied your kid and the other half stuck by you as you stood there in shock. 

It took ten security members to pry off Logan and the aftermath was quite horrific. Blood was on the walls and floors, but only the man and his boy had seriously gotten injured with your mutant students only having minor bumps and bruises. 

They would have hauled Logan off to jail if it wasn't for Charles showing up and sweet talking to them, promising not just financial compensation for the museum but for them personally as well, the human family too. 

It wasn't until you got back to the school that you really felt the pain in your upper cheek bone and eye. As you were about to open your door Logan stood there with his fist raised about to knock. 

“I’m so sorry Logan.” He didn't say anything back, his eyes not wavering from a particular spot on your face. He reached towards it and gently touched it making you hiss and jerk back “I should have hit him harder.” 

You shook your head in disbelief  “No, anything more and you would have gone to jail Logan.” 

“You need to go down to the infirmary.” He took your hand in his. “That's actually where I was about to go.” but he still held your hand and led you to the infirmary. 

“I’m sorry.” The gruff man apologized this time.

“Why?” he stopped and fully turned to you, feeling ashamed for running your first field trip. 

“It was a shitty field trip, your first one.” you shrugged but still stayed looking at him “I'm more upset about not being able to tour the museum, I've always wanted to go.” 

He felt guilty now, he knew art was your passion and he didn't even think about that part of the debacle. 

“I'll make it up to you, I'll take you next time.” He couldn't even believe the words that had come out of his mouth but he wanted to take them back, not because he didn't want to but because he assumed you wouldn't want to go with him. But to his surprise a smile grew on your face “Like a date?” 

There was a beat of silence as he gazed down at your beautiful face and gave a small smile down at you “Like a date sweetheart.” 

[pretty-little-mind33]

dad!James Potter x wife!reader

Summary: When your eleven-year-old son comes home for Christmas break in tears, you and James are instantly worried.

Genre: Fluff, Hurt and Comfort

Warnings: mentions of blood-purity and prejudices, swearing, their son Henry is nicknamed as Harry ;)

happens in the same universe as Santa Baby

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

Your husband has always been dramatic, but when your oldest comes home from school in his first-year with frustrated tears streaming down his cheeks, James almost loses his shit.

Henry slams the door behind him and discards his shoes in the hallway, "Fuck," He mutters when he hears you call his name from the living room. You, James, and Emmie had been waiting for him to come home from the train-station. Emmie sits impatiently on your lap, making small gurgling noises as you bounce her on your knees. James had cooked (burnt) Henry's favorite dinner and he stands up, frowning when he hears his son curse.

"Harry?"

You stand up too, worried, as you hold Emmie in your arms. You hear Henry's footsteps run up the stairs. James looks puzzled as he looks back at you. You shrug and walk up next to him, handing him Emmie as she clings happily to his arms. "I'll talk to him," you pat James's forearm and walk up the stairs to Henry's room.

Gently, you knock on the door and then open it a little. Your heart shatters when you see Henry laying on his stomach, his arms around his pillow as he muffles his cries.

He's always been sensitive and you're cautious as you sit near him. "Honey? What's wrong? Can you tell me what's happened?"

Henry shakes his head, only turning it to mutter, "Go away, mum. I don't wanna talk."

Your eyebrows scrunch and you reach out to touch him, but hesitate and stand up. "Do ya' wanna talk to dad?" you ask, knowing Henry sometimes wants James instead.

Henry doesn't answer for a moment until he nods. You nod too, closing the door behind you as you make your way downstairs again. James is standing at the end of the stairs, Emmie on his hip, as he looks at you concerned. You reach him and take Emmie from him. "He wants you," you whisper.

James's eyes soften and he kisses your cheek, soothing a hand over your hair and down your cheek. You know it's usually a "man problem", as James calls them, when Henry wants James instead of you. Still, James knows your heart breaks when you can't help your baby boy.

James walks upstairs and disappears into Henry's room. You return to the living room and place Emmie down on her play-mat.

James and Henry don't talk for long as you hear hurried footsteps come down the stairs. "Honey?" you call, confused, and you stand.

He doesn't answer and just grabs his coat, his cheeks flushed a dark crimson. He looks beyond pissed. You turn to Emmie, you don't want to leave her unsupervised and she usually starts to cry when she sees her dad this upset so you know you can't carry her to him either.

"James!" you shout after him.

Henry runs down the stairs, his tears now gone as he follows James outside. "Henry!" you shout once more but neither of them listen to you. You feel helpless as you hear the car start in the driveway. You don't understand. You hold Emmie in your arms and sit on the couch, stomach in knots.

After what seems like an hour, the front door opens and Henry's laughter fills the room. You've put Emmie to sleep so you run to the door, hugging Henry to your chest as you tug a hand through his dark curls. James follows behind him, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees your expression.

"Where were you?" you say, narrowing your eyes at your husband.

"Oh, mum, you should have seen dad! The way he shouted at Liam's dad because of what he said at the station—it was awesome!"

"What did Liam say at the station, baby?" you ask him quickly.

"No, not Liam, his dad. He saw me come off the train and he made some comment about you, mum. About you being weird and how it must have passed on to me. He also called you a Mudblood but I didn't understand what that meant and dad won't— " James stops Henry with a hand on his head and you look up at your husband.

Your heart feels like it's beating hard. Weird. Mudblood. You've heard worse but something about it hearing it come from your son's mouth—knowing someone had said that in front of your son makes you ache.

Liam's dad went to school with you and James and he's always been a jerk, but that doesn’t make it excusable. James kisses Henry's head and sends him upstairs. You look at James, teary eyed as you try to find the right words. James just hugs you to his chest, his hand on the back of your head. "Shh," he whispers, "it's okay," he promises but you shake your head.

"It's not okay," you wipe at your tears, "Richard called me that in front of my son. It's humiliating," You bury my face in my hands. James's expression twists and he looks upset.

He cups your cheeks gently, kissing your nose. "I'm so sorry I left so quickly, my love, but he had to know I won't stand for anyone messing with my loves," he says sternly.

While his anger isn't directed at you by any means, it hangs in the air.

"I- I don't know what to say to Henry," you whisper, voice shaky, as you lean your head on James's chest. James's heart sinks at your tone and he holds you close.

He nuzzles his nose in your hair. "You don't have to say a thing, darlin'."

"Yes, I do," you pull away and look into your husband's eyes, "I'm his mother. I have to explain to him what that word means before he hears it at school again. Which, I'm surprised he hadn't already," you try to sound brave but James sees through you.

He always does.

"Hey, it's okay," he says as he runs a hand up and down your shoulders. He kisses your head gently and continues, "We'll talk to Harry, okay? Can you warm up dinner while I get him?"

Your shoulders relax a little and you nod. With your mind still fuzzy, you walk up to the pot where James had been making pasta and scrunch your nose. It's all burnt and cold by now. You glance at your wand on the counter, but instead, you decide a frozen pizza should do nicely.

After a few minutes, James comes back in with Henry hanging from his arm like he would as a little boy. Seeing you, your son jumps down and runs over. He hugs you and leans on his tip-toes to kiss your cheek. "I love you, mum," he smiles and your heart melts. Henry's smile widens when he smells the pizza in the oven.

"How many sweets did dad bribe you with to say that," you tease, ruffling Henry's hair.

Henry shoots James an unsure look but then smiles up at you, "None," he says confidently and you pretend to believe him. You look at James with a look that says, 'stop bribing our son with candy'. James just smirks and swoops in, resting his hand on Henry's shoulder.

"Harry, your mum and I wanna talk to you about something important, alright," he looks at you and pauses so you can take over.

You nod and crouch down to Henry's eye level. You hold his hands, "Honey, what Liam's dad said wasn't okay, you know that right?" Henry nods, listening intensely. "Mudblood is a very mean word that's used for witches and wizards who are Muggleborn—that come from muggle families—like me."

"I know you do—grandma and grandad don't understand magic," Henry grins.

James chuckles and smoothes his hand in Henry's hair and says, "Yeah, exactly, bud. But, you must never use that word, understand?"

Henry nods seriously and looks up at James. "What am I then? If mum's a Muggleborn and dad's family is—"

"In technical terms, you're a half-blood, honey," you say, standing and kissing his head gently, "It's all nonsense anyways. It really doesn't matter at all because you're a wizard. As long as you can do magic, then that's all that matters."

"Yeah, and you know your mum is way better at magic than I am," James says with a pretend pout, "so really, blood-status is a bunch of bogus," Henry looks at his dad and laughs at his dramatic display of feeling sorry for himself. You roll your eyes and push on James's arm, but you're secretly grateful for him lightening up the mood.

Once the talk is over and Henry is tucked into his bed, his stomach full of pizza, you finally exhale. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair, and James is changing into his pajamas. He sits on his side of the bed and fiddles with Emmie's muggle baby monitor.

"I can hear you thinking, my lovely," he hums. He stands and makes his way over to you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and kisses your cheeks. His hands caress up and down your arm as he whispers, "Henry understands. He's smart. You're raising him well."

"We're raising him well," you remind James as you turn to look him in the eye.

James chuckles. "I bribed him with candy. You taught him a valuable lesson."

You scrunch your nose and stand, wrapping your arms around James's torso as you hold him close. Your husband eagerly pulls you into him and inhales the scent of your hair. He leans his cheek on your head and you nuzzle into him.

As much as hearing other wizards and witches talk down on you hurts—like they've done all your life—one solace is that you have the most wonderful husband, who never cared about something as silly as blood-statues, and said wonderful husband gave you the most beautiful children you could have asked for.

"Thank you," you whisper, thanking James for being himself, "I love you." You've never meant anything more.

"I love you more," James finishes and kisses your head.

[buddyhollyscurls]

Trying to sleep and was looking at books and that eventually led me to think of Pride and Prejudice and yk what moment we need to appreciate more?

That scene where Caroline is doing her pick me shit and joking with Darcy about Elizabeth's pretty eyes and she's like when you guys get your marriage portrait done do you think any painter could do her eyes justice?

And our boy Fitzy doesn't even HESITATE he's like I think a painter would do a great job at getting her eyelashes and the way they look in the sunlight and it's just like

MY GUY HAD U ALREADY BEEN THINKING ABOUT THAT??? U HAD THE ANSWER LOCKED AND LOADED WERE U ON YE OLDE GOOGLE LOOKING UP WEDDING PORTRAIT ARTISTS NEAR ME??? DID U HAVE A REGENCY ERA PINTERST BOARD OF UR DREAM WEDDING TO LIZZY ALREADY MADE UP????

[hanoxoxo]

Is Jealousy sweet?

Regina George x f!reader

Warnings: Jealousy

A/N: I'm so tired rn🎀

Regina George was used to being the center of attention. With her impeccable fashion sense, flawless blonde hair, and a sharp wit, she had everyone at North Shore High under her thumb. But lately, something had been bothering her, and it all started with you.

You were a recent transfer, a quiet girl who preferred the company of music over people. Despite your reserved nature, you'd managed to capture the attention of everyone around you, including Regina’s. It started innocently enough.

You joined the same English class as Regina and the Plastics. The first time you spoke up, your insightful analysis of "Pride and Prejudice" had the entire class in awe. Regina watched, intrigued and annoyed. She was the queen bee, and someone new drawing attention was a direct challenge.

Then there were the moments in the hallway. Regina noticed the way people gravitated towards you, the way your laughter lit up the corridor. It irked her to see Aaron Samuels, her ex-boyfriend, laughing with you at lunch. But what bothered her the most was how often you seemed to catch her eye. It wasn’t long before Regina found herself inexplicably drawn to you. She told herself it was because you were a threat to her reign, that she needed to keep an eye on you. But deep down, she knew it was more than that. There was something about your quiet confidence and genuine kindness that she couldn’t ignore.

Regina’s jealousy grew with each passing day. She hated the way you made her feel vulnerable, the way you unknowingly challenged her perfect facade. It all came to a head one Friday afternoon during lunch.

You were sitting with Janis and Damian, the 'freaks', laughing about something when Regina walked by with her entourage. She saw you glance at her, your eyes locking for a brief moment. That look was enough to send her over the edge. “Can you believe her?” Regina hissed to Gretchen and Karen as they walked away. “She thinks she can just waltz in here and take over. Well, she’s got another thing coming.”

That afternoon, Regina devised a plan. She would invite you to join the Plastics, get close to you, and then crush you. It was perfect. But as she approached you at your locker, her heart raced in a way it never had before. “Hey,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “So, I was thinking. You should sit with us at lunch on Monday.” You looked up, surprised. “Me? Why?” Regina smiled, a perfectly rehearsed smile. “Because you’re new, and we’d like to get to know you better. Besides, it’s the least we can do for someone as smart as you.” You hesitated, but something in Regina’s eyes made you agree. “Okay, sure. Thanks, Regina.”

The weekend passed in a blur, and by Monday, Regina was a bundle of nerves. She’d never felt this way about anyone before, and the jealousy gnawed at her.

When you joined the Plastics at their table, she couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and dread. “So, Y/N,” Regina began, “tell us about yourself.” You smiled, a genuine smile that made Regina’s heart skip a beat. “There’s not much to tell. I moved here because my dad got a new job. I enjoy, singing, and drawing. Pretty boring stuff.” Karen, ever the ditz, chimed in. “Do you have a boyfriend?” You blushed. “No, I don’t.” Regina’s heart soared at the news, but she quickly masked her reaction. “Interesting. Well, you should know that being part of our group comes with certain... responsibilities.”

As the weeks went by, Regina’s plan started to unravel. The more time she spent with you, the more she found herself genuinely liking you. You were smart, funny, and kind – everything she secretly wished she could be. And the more she liked you, the more her jealousy faded, replaced by something even scarier: affection.

One afternoon, the two of you were in Regina’s room, going over homework. Regina watched as you chewed on the end of your pen, deep in thought. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. “Regina,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Why did you really invite me to join the Plastics?” Regina froze. “What do you mean?” You sighed. “I know you didn’t like me at first. So why the sudden change of heart?” Regina looked down, unable to meet your eyes.

“I thought you were a threat. I was jealous of you.” You blinked, surprised. “Jealous? Of me? Why?” Regina took a deep breath. “Because you’re everything I’m not. You’re smart, kind, and people genuinely like you. And... I was scared. Scared of how you made me feel.”

You moved closer, your hand resting on hers. “How do I make you feel?”Regina’s heart pounded in her chest. “Like I’m not as perfect as I pretend to be. Like I’m... vulnerable.”

There was a moment of silence before you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers. The kiss was soft, tentative, but it sent a jolt of electricity through Regina’s body. When you pulled away, she felt breathless. “I like you, Regina,” you whispered. ��Not the queen bee, but the real you. The one who’s scared and vulnerable. ”Regina’s eyes filled with tears, and for the first time in a long time, she let her guard down. “I like you too, Y/N. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

From that day on, things changed. Regina was still the queen bee, but she was also your girlfriend. And for the first time, she felt like she didn’t have to be perfect. Because with you, she could just be Regina.

And that was more than enough.

A/N: this one was long 😋

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter two: This is not a good day to be a god.

Warnings: Spoilers for Aventurine’s backstory, some canon divergent stuff as I’m taking creative liberties. Reader is kind of biased but also not. People aren’t really having a good time. Good ol Eldritch horror. This chapter is a bit more serious in tone than the last ones.

“Mr. Yang, can we please switch the channel?”

Welt, being the nearest person near the techy T.V you absolutely had no fucking idea how to operate yet had obliged to your request, because you see, the news channel had no problem broadcasting your latest breakdown for everyone to hear.

You could have sworn you saw Pompom almost cry from the sound of your eldritch version and honestly you wouldn’t blame them— if you were them, you were sure you’d cry at the sound of your own voice too because what the fuck was that—

Why you even cried? Well, you accidentally freed a planet.

From existing. By simply accidentally dropping your tears on it because you cried watching a planet from thousands of light years away that you’re pretty sure is Sigonia come to conflict.

How you accidentally did more damage than Nanook and haven’t ended up being assimilated to them is beyond you, but you remembered you still have some agendas, you can’t be eaten yet.

It wasn’t exactly your fault your true form was a little too big that rogue planets who had the unlucky chance to get too near you ended up being quite literally disassembled. You just hoped there were no sentient life forms in it.

Continuing on with breakfast, Himeko drank her weird smelling coffee near you, unperturbed and probably used to hearing the news airing out your dirty laundry. (She’s still a little shaken from hearing the crying, but knowing you personally has made it seem.. less terrifying.)

You munched on your toast, thanking Pompom for making it the way you liked it; being slightly on the burnt side.

Welt had switched the channel to a different network, this time, there’s sports. Everyone seemed content on seeing sweaty men on a soccer field instead of hearing your not so pleasant and probably horrifying sounding distress so it was a win.

Then you randomly remembered Sigonia.

“Hey uh.. Himeko? Do we have data on this specific star cluster here?” You asked as you scribbled on a piece of paper, hoping at least that Akivili had made it there at least once.

Himeko peered through the paper and frowned. “….” She seemed hesitant, which confirmed your suspicion. “We don’t… the rail hasn’t gone that way just yet.”

Well shit. It seemed like you couldn’t take the express with you without you heading there and establishing a space anchor first.

But that would take time. Too much time. And you realized that logically there would be little to no benefit of a space anchor in a harsh desert planet— you cut those thoughts as soon as they came, you weren’t going to think like the IPC.

It’s up to you to establish a connection then. But could you even make it in time?

————————————

Your projection had disappeared after breakfast, leaving the express once again to wander as they pleased as you returned to your original body to peer into Sigonia— specifically Sigonia IV once again.

It’s surprisingly lively for a desolate place. It made sense, people do live there, and it made you smile at the resilience they presented despite their circumstances.

You should bless them, you thought, maybe placing it under the guise of their mother goddess if you’re remembering their belief system correctly. She.. unfortunately does not exist, but you do.

You won’t let them know that though for the sake of their peace.

You just wish the two clans would free themselves from hatred; logically it would be more beneficial to work together in a place like that, and it made you feel bad for the Katicans in a way— to be caged by their own prejudice they can’t see beyond words or envy that they’d choose to simply wipe out another clan out of those feelings. It was just sad, a little pathetic almost.

You didn’t want to be biased, but you do know you have sides to take if you wanted to be free of something. In this situation, you don’t think there was an option to simply have the two of them be on equal terms— not for now at least. Maybe you should consult Xipe? But where even are they?

For the sake of quieting your strangely human conscience, you chose to bless the Avgins in their little festival, in the hope that you’d steer them away from their written fate.

You know it’d be hard to fight, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try.

It had taken you to seeing little Kakavasha for a good while for you to finally crack and get down there yourself.

There was no way you were going to let him suffer a life that you knew was going to happen to him, not if you could do something about it. And lucky for you, you were an Aeon, and you were an Aeon that did whatever they damn wanted.

You had said fuck you to fate that day and took the form of an Avgin woman, not before leaving a message to Boothill that you hope he’d receive considering you’re not delivering it through your phone number— you were delivering your message through sheer will.

————————

Assimilating with the Avgin had come rather easily. It had made you feel bad to deceive them— you had pretended to be injured, no, it was more like you intentionally let your projection appear injured, as you approached their camp.

You had called yourself “Delia”, and they were keen on accepting that. They had taken care of you and kids cooed over the patterns of the skirt that you wore, asking you how you had created it.

Your only saving grace had been a young girl who appeared almost the same physical age as you, shooing away the people who crowded you too much. (Not that there was even many of them, there were three at most, and they were children.)

You had only awkwardly laughed as she shot them a look, something about how the “patient” needed to be left alone.

“Sorry about them, they can be excitable when they see something pretty.” She said to you, squeezing a wet rag before she wiped your face with it. It’s embarrassing to be taken care of like you were a baby, but if it’s what it took to try and free them, then you’re willing to sacrifice your dignity a little more— if you were being honest, you’d take this over hearing the sound of your own crying on the television.

“It’s fine.” You smiled as she put the rag down and checked your “injured” leg.

“A few more days and you’d be good to go. Though…. You’re healing faster than people normally would…..” You could sense the suspicion in her tone, and inwardly you smiled mischievously. “Never mind, I suppose that’s a good thing. The sooner you heal, the sooner you’re out of the bed and can go around and move about.” She nodded to herself in her assessment of you and left the tent.

It was days later that you found that she’s funnily enough, Kakavasha’s sister.

By that time, you were known by the people around you, but you didn’t know them.

Kakavasha had been one of those who knew you in courtesy of his older sister; and now he’s here, shyly peeking over the table as you scribbled away into a sheet of paper.

He’s curious as he peered over your work. “It’s the stars you see on the left side of that mountain.” You told him, hesitantly he brings his pointer finger and holds it over the tear drop shapes.

“What’s this?”

“It’s rain.” You explained, and the little boy that you once knew to be the gambler tilted his head.

“Why is there so many of them?” Ah right, this place didn’t rain much.

“The sky is crying.” You told him and he simply frowned.

“Sister said you have a lot of stories.” He decided to change the topic, probably sensing your awkwardness. How embarrassing for a little kid to know you’re not good at speaking, but you know you’ll eventually learn how to better yourself in doing so.

“Yes I do, wanna hear one of them?” Your smile returned, and little Kakavasha, with his one missing front tooth, reflected your expression.

“I’m taking that as a yes. I’ll tell you the story of a girl who lost everything to the rain…”

————————

Two Sigonian months (you’ve counted the hours, and put them into months to prevent yourself from going insane from saying the numbers) and you’re pretty sure you’ve ran out of tales you’ve parodied from the original you told him and the other children. Kakavasha had brought it upon himself to stick by your side funnily enough, saying something about not caring if you repeat the tales to him again.

His mother had brought you to the side some time ago, thanking you for the diversion you gave to the children from the reality they were in.

You were combing a sleeping Kakavasha’s hair when you had heard it. The dreaded call for aid for the next Kakava festival.

And there was no time for the space anchor you were just starting to make.

Your hands paused, and you gently set the child’s head off your lap and into a pillow before disappearing into the night.

You returned 6 system hours later. Then another 18 system hours went by before you disappeared again and reappeared exactly after six hours. That continued on for days as the festival grew nearer.

——————————

Unbeknownst to you, this was utterly terrifying for the galaxy rangers aside from Boothill to receive messages from a nonexistent number. It had come in the form of a cipher, then actual comprehensive texts, then another cipher again and all of them would increase in frequency— as if the one who was calling for help was making it a point that it was urgent.

All of it had led to the answer of Sigonia IV despite the other strange contents of those messages.

Sometimes it wasn’t even texts at all, sometimes it was calls in the same six system hour time span that they’d receive those messages. They’d receive the call, and they would receive static sounds that formed words— gibberish half the time, but still beckoning them to Sigonia IV.

Some of them had put their phone down sometimes as the calls manifested into sounds that made them shudder all the way to their bones. They couldn’t describe the noise, but it put some sort of primal reaction out of them enough that some of them went 72 system hours without sleep.

As irrational and ridiculous as it sounded, there were very little things that galaxy rangers feared.

Whatever was sending them these things were one of them.

Sometimes it would be their TV, and Boothill had the unfortunate fate of listening to the strange cacophony that if he had been a human he was sure it would have terrified him enough he’d piss himself. There was something wrong about the waves it emitted, it wasn’t a normal glitch or a hack sort of glitch, but rather something else.

SOS, Sigonia IV, SOS, Sigonia IV. The message were a repeat.

In the calls he received, he would have thought he was having a fever dream when he found they didn’t exist in his call logs until his fellow rangers confirmed they received the same message.

He remembered receiving the text once before all this— a strange occurrence, but not exactly a coincidence.

They received the same messages again for this night. Except the ending sequence changed.

Bring people. Avgin. IPC not help. SOS. Sigonia IV. Send HELP.

After the last sequence had indicated the date, the TV short circuited and the lights dimmed.

“Oh fudge me.” Boothill muttered, whoever or whatever was even sending these things were clearly going agitated. “Looks like we’re going to be on a roll boys, I don’t think it’s wise to priss off this cutie pie so best we don’t ignore that signal for any fudging longer than we already had.”

“Say less, and I hope to the aeons I get a good nights sleep when we’re done.”

—————————————

Part I, Part II, Part III [HERE], Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII….

And that’s a wrap for part two! I know it lacks jokes but come on. But yeah we’re going on the more serious territory for a bit before we go back for the jokes. Heavily unedited and written in the middle of the night.

[softzindagi]

Some of my thoughts on maxton hall and why i loved it so much:

- im so glad that they didnt have james being a dickbag and kissing other girls after he met ruby

- the contrast of james and ruby’s families, the polar opposite in fathers. I love how they still had james and lydia be each other’s rocks in such a crappy situation when they have no one else, even if their relationship isn’t the best. The dichotomy of their relationship to ruby’s and ember’s? things can go wrong but they are sisters who love each other deeply.

-i loved the very pride and prejudice esque scenes of ruby dressing james down, and every time he deserved to be told off but it still makes ruby feel guilty afterwards. there’s a moral compass of ruby that james hated at first but it humbles him? Chefs kiss its so fucking good. He betters himself just like darcy and the change is seen even by his parents.

- the scene of ruby telling james off in the oxford course, its a pivotal scene because everything she says digs at things he knows. Young Beaufort wasnt his idea, it was Lydia’s and he’s taking credit and charge of it. He feels bad, he’s forced into it, but it’s the “you go through life representing wealth to which you have contributed absolutely nothing? With so much money, there’s no need for your own ideas.” Ruby has no idea how hard that actually hits home, and you can see Lydia take a step back mentally and yeah she agrees. The rest of it, how people will only like him for his money and not himself, that also hits so close. We see how Cyril laughs inspite of James’ pain, Alister is impressed by Ruby’s dress down but no one goes after James like a true friend would. As the series goes on you see how Alister and James grow closer as he becomes a better person, you see the care and concern because they’re in similar places but Alister isn’t as proud or arrogant as James is. I really love how by the end of the series, you have James and Alister confiding in each other.

- the scene on the lacrosse field, the way she apologizes and he is arrogant but decides to be nice because he is curious, and finds out that he does like her. She humbles him and makes him want to do better, she’s not the enemy and he kinda respects her for it. I also think, he’s never had anyone genuinely apologize to him, because he’s never had anyone wrong him but his own family. The apology, it’s a catalyst for him to let go of this resentment he has for her, in the truth she dug up in him.

- i am very happy that they have the good and the bad with ruby’s parents. The guilt that Ruby feels and the way her father is not happy that she is “wasting” her money on saving for his lift. There’s care there, but it’s hard nonetheless, those are big emotions to have years after an accident like he experienced.

- piggy backing off of that, the pivotal scene of James saving Ruby from the pool, that even though he didn’t know why she didnt come up but didnt hesitate to jump in? CHEFS KISS! The scene after of her confiding in him, him being so gentle and careful and being honest with percy, that he’s in over his head but he likes ruby, he wants to help her and has helped her. Oof just so fucking good!

- the way they keep telling each other that they should go back to never knowing each other, but every time fail because they’re meant to collide now, they MATTER to each other now

- i just really am glad they had him apologize for the shitty way his father was to her. That he was embarrassed by himself and his father. It was excruciating to have her get humiliated by his father. He’s only experienced it within his own family, but having it happen to Ruby? that changed things.

- they fucking nailed the cute scenes between them. The dancing in the victorian clothes, the chasing pigeons, the planning and setting up of the gala? Hell yeah!

- The whole fourth episode was chef’s kiss, no notes just purely good storytelling

More thoughts later but this is what i’ve got rn after rewatching the show for the third time

[ladybirdswritings]

Pride & Prejudice - Coriolanus {Young} Snow x Reader

Summary: Spending more time with the miserable Mr. Snow, against your will, only proves to you exactly why he is a man you have sworn to loathe for all eternity. Steamy Pride & Prejudice retelling with young snow and you! Alternate universe, au!snow <3

Notes: so happy you all loved the first part — so i guess i’m continuing ahaha. as always, thank u for leaving comments and loves as it keeps me motivated! also, feel free to lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

two

The mist of September’s end and October’s greeting is a thick, heavy blanket in the air. You only scowl at it as you pick up your tiered skirt from where it drags against emerald moss and dirt. A storm is nearby.

You would melt into this very soil if you could. Become one with the lilacs and peonies if it meant you’d never be prevailed upon to marry again by the force of your mother.

Mama is unwell. As always but, with more fervor now. The dance was most successful for Jane. She and Sejanus have been exchanging kind letters with pomegranate stained kisses garnishing the print. Even so, mama is viciously unhappy.

The cherrywood cabinets slam louder when you pass, and her eyes narrow at any mention of the gathering. Perhaps your behavior was a great embarrassment for her. If only you were as divine as Jane.

The house is lively, far too lively for your liking at this settling hour. Sisters here and sisters there. They busy themselves with the grand piano and awful singing. It isn’t long until one of the twins rushes forward with a sealed envelope clasped tightly in hand.

“Mama! It is for Jane!”

You snatch the paper from her palm, worrisome that she will ruin it with how tightly she squeezes. Beyond this, you are most eager to see the development in your own personal romance novel starring your dearest sister. Mama slaps your hand away in turn, tugging it back into a monstrous grasp that nearly shreds it to minuscule little pieces.

You see the breath halt and dwell comfortably in her throat, unwilling to part or falter. This is most important to her, trivial matter as it is.

So long as Jane is happy…

You gaze on at the girl with petal-pink cheeks and bright eyes — her smile is a thing of beauty and joy at the mere idea that Sejanus Plinth could admire her.

“Mama! What does it say!”

Her hands tremble like hummingbirds now, and your frown stitches itself promptly upon your pretty face. Oh no, he is certain to have changed his mind.

At least he was kind and gentleman enough to inform dear Jane by letter.

That joy, excitement and eagerness once swimming within your mother’s eyes has dissipated to sheer horror.

“When did we receive this?” She whispers, a ghastly and terror laced sound.

“This morning!” One of the twins happily offers, twirling her chocolate ringlet tight enough to knot.

Mama cries out a sound of agony, shoving the paper hard against Jane’s chest — enough so that she stumbles. She is a frantic thing, running round your quaint living space like that of a farm animal who has lost its head.

You are fueled by your own confusion, constricting your mind to only wait upon Jane. She shakily reads the crumbled thing — hesitance becoming her. Her eyes shift then; a look of joy, excitement, fear — then dread.

“What is it?” You whisper, watching as mama mutters nonsense and brushes the collection of scattered breadcrumbs from the countertop — eyes wide as the moon aglow at midnight.

“Mr. Plinth and his sister, alongside Mr. Snow and sir Plinth’s dear — rich uncle, have all planned to meet with us this evening. They’ve taken a carriage, and have made arrangements to arrive by sundown.”

Four pairs of eyes, in perfected unison, glance into the grassy plains where the sun has begun to set.

You do not intend to giggle at the irony, perhaps it is a thing fueled by nerves just as your mother. Yet it floats from your sweet lips like a prayer, slender fingers rushing to suffocate it.

It is undeniably numerous, however. How could it be anything but?

The way your dearest blood all melts at the brim for the gaze of three men whom are only important by cold silver is a thing of great mystery to you, something you do not understand. It is not just mama and Jane and the entirety of your own family however. No, it is all of society. You only wonder what it would be like for a woman to reach beyond the horizon line — to be great. To not be forced upon a man of all creatures to be of true importance.

Mama rushes past, so quickly your hair becomes unruly. She presses her palms firmly against your cheeks — your face piecing together like a swift minnow from the nearby fish pond.

“Oh heavens — if you do even the littlest act so to embarrass me, I am certain to die of great illness. My nerves are far too weak, you must behave for me! Be as sweet Jane is. Sir Plinth’s uncle is of the richest gentleman in Newbury, 5,000 a year! You must converse with him, do it for your dearest mother. Oh! And brush that wild hair from your face, girl. He will think you to be a witch — keep guard at the window.”

Her words are a tangled, knotted mess of all the things you despise. Even whilst tucked away into a place where you do not truly listen, you know well she is asking you to be social for gain of a husband.

You frown, grateful when the headless chicken runs off from you again. Your hand fussses with the wisps rested amongst your forehead — and you obey mama’s orders by sauntering to the creaky old chair that faces the fogged front window.

The fog is a veil, a curtain hiding from you only dread. You are grateful for it now, though it does no good for your locks and tresses. Your eyes dart to the torn book beside you — and you consider disobedience as an alternative to this state. You know well what will happen if you stray, so you do not dare it.

It is an awfully timely and punctual arrival — perhaps ten ticks of the grand, tower clock before the stallion’s snouts peek through the fog. Just as the golden halo sets beyond them.

“Mama!”

You call, but she only waves you away with a busy hand as she continues fussing with the knit table mat. You will not bother it again. You shrink, hiding all but curious eyes behind the lace curtain.

Sejanus is grinning, nervously you think. Then the scowling sister, a small, old creature with a sunken gaze — and the miserable one. They approach, you sink further.

“God Sejanus, smile any more for the poor thing and your pockets will start betraying you.” Grace sneers, voice sewn tightly with disgust at the less fortunate situation your family finds themselves in, glancing around at the quaint, pathetic home. It is as if she believes one breath of hers will cause it to collapse to the soil — to her polished feet.

“Please Grace, she is the prettiest girl I have ever seen. Oh, uncle, her eldest sister is very agreeable as well. Don’t you agree, Snow?”

Oh, he’s asked the cold thing who’s far too proud and rich for a humble party. You’re curious.

“Perfectly tolerable, I suppose. But not pretty enough to tempt me.”

Oh…

Your mischievous, sneaky grin melts into that of a hard line — ample with annoyance. How arrogant of him to say. As if his blonde locks and blue eyes make him any different than the handsome officers that pass by now and then. As if he is some prize. You scowl, Grace’s laugh an unpleasant sound.

Four hard knocks and you are quickly up to your feet.

Mama rushes to you immediately, slapping your hand enough so that it stings greatly and fades the color crimson.

“You were meant to watch! Places, take your stance girls!”

It takes beyond the greatest force to drag your feet to stand beside Jane. Mama checks each forced position anxiously before she tugs the door open wide — with a horrible, eager grin.

“Welcome!”

They trail the moss and dirt onto your oak floors, not bothering to wipe it away on the torn cloth you call a carpet. No need, they believe. The house is pathetic already as it stands. No dirt shall make it any less worthy than it already is.

In unison, a curtsy of greeting becomes all of you. Prim and proper and perfect just as mother groomed you all to be. For preparation of husbands.

Good god, the blonde looks even more dreadful now. Cold eyes darting to the old, harmless hound that chews on a racket ball. He winces at the sight of dust and chipped oak wood furniture surrounding. He looks down upon this place as if it is beneath him.

He far from belongs here.

“Sit, please sit! I’ve already prepared us supper!” Mama practically pushes Sejanus with most nervous palms, and his shadows follow suite.

Though you dream of running through the open door and fading into the mist to never be found again — you obey; sauntering into the archway with tired eyes and reluctant feet.

“My lady…”

Oh.

The short man with bushy brows and coal colored, untamed locks pulls your seat back enough so that you may sit upon it. To your dismay, the miserable one takes place in front of you. His eyes are cast downward to the far from fine silverware laid before him.

“Thank you sir.” You whisper, the chair feeling as though it is determined to suffocate you the longer you sit upon it.

“Oh, Jane — everybody, please meet my uncle, Mr. Casca Highbottom of Bristol.”

You only nod at the grinning old man, and mama rushes back like a midnight breeze through the archway — setting plates filled to the brim with but all of the food left for the entire month. Even so, it remains poor to a gazing eye. Though it matters not how little garnishes the porcelain, for when you catch gaze of miserable Snow pushing his few peas around in disgust, you cannot help but narrow your sight.

How can he be so proud? Certainly, if a humble gathering invited you in for a warm meal in this awful mist — you’d be most grateful for even a singular pea on your plate. Let alone twelve.

Grace laughs at the sight of Snow displeased — placing a soft palm against his knee beneath the cherrywood table. He spares her laugh a glance, and his lip twitches in what appears to be an amused smile. They talk lowly to each other, you notice it from where you peer behind your glass. She must be fond of him what with the way she touches him and leans closer with each word he speaks. You cannot possibly imagine why. Perhaps they are just alike. Rich, rude things.

“So — I dare ask if any suitors captured your heart at the party then?” Grace, she speaks to you now. You snort, ready to offer words of disdain and disgust toward the lot of men and their sweaty palms. Your mother’s cold glare silences you.

“No… they did not.” You mutter in quick defeat.

“Hmm, how dreadful…” it is mock sympathy, noticeable to both you and Jane.

Tension thins to a mere string lacing the table together. Silence blanketing even more so than the mist as worn silverware and mama’s embarsssing tangents erupt in painful harmony. You are grateful for Jane who manages to pry her eyes from Sejanus for a single moment so to save you from mama’s disapproving glare at your silence. She is selling you to the short man, it seems. She has been for the entirety of this meal.

“It is not as though gentlemen do not flock to my dear sister…” Jane starts. “It is simply that she is far too preoccupied with her books to notice them. She is an avid reader, adores her novels you see. She possesses great talents because of it!”

You hoped Jane would be so kind as to avert the attention. Yet it remains stable upon you, the available wife — as cattle with clipped ears. You feel as though you are livestock being powdered and pressed for the market. If the short man is buying, you’d rather be butchered.

He is awkward and stout and his jokes are uncomfortable as they are just rude. He is far from a gentleman and all the reason you deny each hand bestowed to you in the first place. For reason of men like him.

“You write?” Snow inquires.

Those cold, devoid eyes are locked upon you — and despite wishing to send him away to never return so you may be free of his arrogance, you only peer up at his gaze through fanned lashes to see them commanding an answer of you. Awaiting one.

“Occasionally, sir.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, nor does the gaze of Mr. Highbottom, even as he presses a boiled potato to his tongue.

“What of?”

What a silly question, you think. What else would a woman of your age and lack quill about?

It baffles you to find him curious. Perhaps he does not wish to seem obviously rude any more so than he simply is — perhaps he is only creating small talk.

“What else, sir? My thoughts and desires, my ideas. Romance — dramatics…”

“Oh but she just despises poetry!” Mama interjects, as if to end the conversation and refocus it upon your eligibility. Even when she speaks, Snow does not spare her a single glance. His eyes, they still rest upon you.

“You do? I thought poetry to be the food of love.”

You dare a snort then, suffocating a fit of laughter with a spoonful of food. You take your time chewing it, only offering more words when you realize that the conversation does not seem to be at its end. No. It cannot be. Not when he looks at you in a such an expectant manner.

“A poet writes of women in the gaze of all men, which I do not believe to be a true show of adoration. Perhaps it is the food of love — if you want to suffocate it. Stone it till it remains no longer.”

His next words come quick, immediately almost. As if he is grasping at the first chance to reply, much to Highbottom’s dismay whom snaps his mouth shut after losing the opportunity. Every eye in attendance is on the both of you.

Do they think you to be an enigma? You wonder…

“What do you recommend then? To encourage affection between two people…”

You do not know why he asks you this, but you can only assume it is because he wishes to embarrass you. Grace’s sharp gaze morphs into that of an amused smirk. Why would he ask the only woman seated what encourages affection when she cannot obtain it on her own?

You are certain then of his intentions. To mock you in front of Plinth’s sister, his uncle. In front of your blood. He does it so subtlety that if you were not bright as you are — you would most certainly miss it. He is a fool, a great fool because miraculously — you can reciprocate.

“Dancing… even if one’s partner is only tolerable.” You almost sneer with a tilt of your head and raise of your sharp brow.

If something truly clicks within him, it is most quickly dissipated. Most tricky to see. Sejanus clears his throat, and Highbottom — rude creature, erupts into a fit of laughter with a mouthful of food. Your mother is nervous, she joins him.

Grace only gasps, and Jane’s soft features are laced with confusion at the thing only you five are lucky enough to understand.

You remain stoic, challenging his eyes and his tense, twitching jaw with proudness.

“Shall I fetch dessert mama?”

Your mother nods through fits of forced laughter, and you take the opportunity to lift upon your feet. The chair scrapes against the creaky panels and nearly topples as you rush into the quaint kitchen and away from him.

It brings you joy knowing that he has nothing further to say.

You are smiling, terribly overflowed with pride as you place canned, sugared peaches upon ten porcelain plates. How proud he must have felt to speak lowly of you, a girl he spared little words to at a party he refrained from dancing at for it was too poor for his liking.

You disliked him then — but a chat with miss Lucy-Gray Baird while passing by in town confirmed all of your prejudice. She claims to have been treated most coldly by him whilst he was courting her. He offered his hand, then fled into midnight when he grew bored of her. Only the next morning.

He is as any other man is. A heartless hound. His behavior in your small home only further proves your prejudice is with more than enough reason.

You take longer than you should selfishly, and when you return — your gaze locks upon Sejanus who is entirely enamored by the sapphire gaze of Jane.

Mama aids you in placing down the plates you juggle. It is a poor dessert, but one that is most delectable.

“Oh well, your daughter is most precious. Funny, too! How uncommon for women.”

“Oh please uncle, we all have our wit. She is just peculiar, I daresay.”

Mama laughs at Grace’s words, and you only offer a polite, tense smile before being seated once again. It is you now that pushes your food around your plate, fading into the mist truly as you remain silent.

They speak of things you care the least bit for — all irrelevant matters to your mind. You are grateful when wine is poured, you nearly inhale it and garner a slap on your hand once again from mama.

You need it to get thought this.

Highbottom and mama speak of you, she tells him lies. How much you wish to be wed, how eager you are to find a lover. All contradictions of Jane’s earlier lick of truth. The rich fool believes her, his eyes cast upon you like poisonous darts. Slowly suffocating you.

Sejanus is preoccupied entirely by Jane — and the miserable one chats lowly with the scowling sister.

“Well, how about some music and dance? Lizzie, off to the piano!”

Your youngest sister lifts — eager to press her hands against the keys. It will be a mediocre melody but one that offers enough sound so to dance. You wish to stay glued to the table as they leave you to the living space — but mama tugs at your braid harshly, you have no choice other than obedience.

Sejanus kindly offers Jane a hand — and you feel as though you will just sink entirely into the floor as Highbottom approaches. Your heel turns you swift as you try and find even a small bit of space in this little home.

A navy vest with a crimson rose tucked into its pocket cages your escape. You never thought to see the day you’d be grateful for the cold blonde who cuts in front. You nearly collide with him.

“Dance with me.” He commands.

How baffling…

You do not notice the tension settled within your features until your brows ease in confusion. Your chin is pointed upwards — enough so that he can be equal to your gaze.

“Are you asking this of me — or ordering sir?”

His jaw ticks once more, but he does not follow up with any more words. The cleared throat of the short man behind you is enough reason to pick the far less uncomfortable poison. You’d rather be fueled by annoyance as opposed to discomfort and dread. One dance is all.

“Fine.” You mutter, sealing your fate and betraying your swear to be far away from the man whom you loathe entirely.

He is a pale thing up close. Birth marks kissing silken skin, soft as the moss kissing your shoes. You are grateful that this dance does not require touch — only the occasional closeness.

You follow him to where Sejanus and Jane stand — his head nearly reaches your ceiling. His palm hovers over yours, eyes downcast on your pretty features. Grace is scowling, again.

Your fingers twitch as Lizzie begins the sonnet, and you follow his lead.

It surprises you greatly, how well he dances. Though his mouth is a hard line, and his eyes are like round lumps of charred coal. He is noiseless.

“Are we to dance in dread and silence, Mr. Snow? I dare comment on this awful weather, now you may follow with a remark about the food. How much you despised it.”

You catch a glimpse of him, a suppressed twitch of his lips. As if the words offended him. Maybe amused him. You step forward and then back, frayed skirt floating against the movement. He follows suite.

“I could comment on how you dance. I am happy to inform you it is more tasteful than how you cook. Please do advise me on what more you want me to say to you.”

You stumble by his words — and his eyes dart to your clumsy feet. They are stable soon enough, circling him like a shark in vicious waters. His words upset you.

“Mama and Jane prepared the meal. I only prepared the peaches; but I do believe that if a family was kind enough to welcome an abrupt attendance with a warm meal — I would not be so complacent about its contents. You see — we are not all so fortunate to have garnered inheritance, Mr. Snow.” A cold melody, but one he would be a fool to ignore. It is all true.

Now it is him that halts. He steps forward, dipping his head low. Your eyes wander to his gloved palm — it clenches then flexes outward; all evidence of his annoyance with your words.

There you both stand, Sejanus and Jane alongside the twins, mama and Highbottom swirling around you. You do not know where Grace lurks.

You both are still, he stands a tower above you. His eyes pour heat into your own, admonishing you — offended with your words. It is as if the room is only filled with the two of you, the lace of connection between you just your anger. Even in your short time being familiar, it is strong.

“Do you imply that my inheritance is all the reason for my success?” He forces through clenched — perfect teeth.

“Perhaps I do sir, miss Baird of Newbury certainly agree—”

The hand that lays against your side is snatched into his own. He squeezes it tight now, eyes wide and swimming with disapproval and frustration. It has been resting at the surface, but bound to crack.

“Oh I’m certain she does. I am sure she told you the many tales of her troubles and woes brought upon by her time spent with me. You won’t speak to her again.”

It is you that steps forward now, so laced with upset that you do not notice your poor and worn shoes are stepping upon his tip toes. Up upon the rich and shined leather. Your chin is pointed upward, your stance tense.

“You command me as if I am wed to you sir, but I am not. You have come here, unannounced and unhappy with your humble plate as if we are all but a quaint inn with poor maids. Just because we gather little and obscure and we do not have pockets as generous and full as yours does not make us beneath you, Mr. Snow.”

The music halts, and your eyes shift quickly to find a concerned Jane gazing on — alongside your horrified mother. How crazed you both must look now. Stepping upon his toes with palms clasped — anger and upset becoming you both.

You release his gloved hand and part your soft lips to dismiss yourself — yet a strike of lightning cracking from above the grayed sky is a gift given, a distraction from beyond. Yet alongside it? A curse.

The horses startle, lifting to their hind legs before running far and fast with the carriage. Grace cries out from where she sulked in the shadows, and Sejanus alongside his uncle run after the wild beasts. Your sisters and mama follow.

“What are we to do!?”

“Grace, please be calm. We will fetch them.”

“We cannot travel in these conditions, boy.”

“You may rest here!”

Dread is a serpent that wraps tight round your throat — making the pounding of your heart halt entirely.

It is all a blur, but by the end of the lively conversation it is decided. They will stay. They will all stay. You bow your head, crossing your arms round the beating at your chest so to protect it.

“Excuse me.” You whisper, so low it is taken with the breeze from the open door before rushing up your dilapidated steps; knowing full well that the hospitality offered by mama, selfish reasoning or not, is the last thing a man like Mr. Snow deserves…

[witchy-scribblings]

are you still watching?

shinazugawa genya x reader

synopsis ➳ it might have been you who selected the movie currently playing on your tv, but as of right now it was the last thing you could focus on.

warnings ➳ characters are aged up, shy genya, dom reader, making out, dry humping, coming in pants, dirty talk, praise kink, lowercase, mdni!

wordcount ➳ 2.3k

[crossposted on ao3]

it might have been you who selected the movie currently playing on your tv, but as of right now it was the last thing you could focus on.

you knew this scene and its dialogue by heart now, the tension-filled first confession of mr. darcy towards elizabeth bennet was and would always be one of your favorite moments in cinematic history, but right now you could hardly care about any of it, unlike your lovely boyfriend, who was hanging on to every heated word that elizabeth dished back to the object of her unfortunate infatuation. and that was the problem.

he looked so damn good when he was focused on, well, anything, really.

it would be an understatement to say that you were utterly smitten with genya. despite his extremely rough exterior, he had never been anything if not kind and sweet towards you, even way before going steady. he had been an amazing friend back then (still is), if a little awkward with certain kinds of affection, and an equally outstanding boyfriend. despite still shying away from your love at times, which you actually just found all the more endearing, he never let you doubt his own feelings towards you, and showed that he cared in his own smaller but just as meaningful ways.

for example, letting you sit him through what could be your fiftieth (but his first) rewatch of pride and prejudice. he had agreed, not without making a face, and somehow ended up being more invested in the old drama than you.

you couldn’t keep from stealing quick glances at him even if you tried, but he just looked so good in his gray baggy t-shirt and red sleeping shorts. you loved that he didn’t feel stiff and nervous under your legs as they rested across his lap, and even had a big, warm hand rubbing up and down the expanse of your calf, warming up the skin and sending shivers through you, but he didn’t seem to notice. he didn’t because, against all odds, he was loving the wretched (you’d regret your own wording in the morning) movie and you wished he’d lay all of that undivided attention on you instead.

as much as you loved it whenever he got into something you enjoyed, you needed him in a different headspace right now.

to be fair, you had been dating genya for a relatively short amount of time, and he had made a lot of progress with processing your displays of affection (he didn’t nearly faint every time you kissed him anymore!), but you really wanted to take things a little bit further. even making out could prove a bit of a challenge, so you never really pushed because the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable and, truthfully, you could reign in those needs, for heaven’s sake! you weren’t a horndog.

…not like you were currently drooling over your very oblivious boyfriend. not at all.

“genya…”

maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just ask .

“hmm? w’cha need, babe?” and you hesitated because how could you not? he was still watching the movie, although you could tell he was paying attention to you as well. how would he react if you just blurted it out? you were okay with rejection, but you didn’t want him to feel guilty for denying you and completely ruin the mood. would he faint, even? you really hoped not, because that would ruin the night for sure. but you couldn’t just backpedal now; it’d be weird and awkward to just say “nevermind” without a proper explanation.

“...can i get on top of you?” you were fearing the words had been too forward, but instead of overreacting, genya just spared a quick glance to your legs and threw a confused look your way.

“but you’re already on top of me, baby.”

god bless his dumb ass .

“no, no,” and you giggle, of course you do, feeling more relaxed after you were suddenly reminded that this was just your boyfriend; your idiot, lovely boyfriend. “i meant, can i sit on your lap?”

you could tell he was blushing now, but, to your surprise, that seemed to be the extent of his reaction to your request. outwardly, at least.

“uh… sure can, babe,” and you were baffled as much as pleased by the way genya had easily acceeded, but it only took you one second of curious consideration before you acted on your words and shuffled slowly to place yourself on top of him, with both legs straddling his thighs (you could tell he was way stiffer now) and pressing your chest snuggly against his. you peered into his wide eyes. “b-babe… the tv’s the other way…”

“i don’t wanna keep watching the movie right now, genya…”

oh.

your shy boyfriend looked too stunned to answer, so you waited patiently, letting your hands roam up and down his firm chest through the thin cotton, adoring the way you could feel his tiny shudders and hear the hitch of air in his throat. your fingers traveled further upwards, until they came to cradle his jaw in both hands; the skin felt warm and clammy to the touch. you made sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes flitted to his parted lips.

“is this okay?” you breathed against his lips, a silent plea. his body was so close, so warm and hard compared to yours, you could feel it despite having full layers of clothes in between. your thumbs ran circles on his reddened cheeks and your nose brushed against his from how close you were hovering towards him. you just needed the green light to close-

“yes, yes it’s so okay-,” you didn’t let him finish, couldn’t let him finish before your lips fell on his almost of their own volition, and his words merged into a moan that you gladly swallowed into your mouth. the kiss was gentle, experimental if only to gauge his every reaction and make sure he was comfortable with your advances.

so far, you knew he was.

you knew from the way his hands immediately flew to your hips to brace himself against your onslaught of affection, the way he shivered when you ran your tongue along his lower lips after every playful nibble, the way your mouth, pressed so insistently against his as the kiss grew in fervor, couldn’t contain the tiny, pleading whimpers coming from his throat.

at some point, you pulled away just enough to observe how he was faring and, boy, was it a sight to behold; genya, with his thin lips looked deliciously kiss-bruised and glossy with spit, his skin flushed all the way to his ears and possibly down to his chest, if you were to guess, and his unfocused eyes staring absently at you.

you weren’t any less than thrilled to have him so messed up from just some kissing.

“p-please…,” he murmurs, trying to chase after your lips like they’re his new vice, but you swiftly snake a hand into the unruly tresses of his mohawk and pull him back, maybe a little harder than you should have, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you are rewarded with a loud groan that goes straight to your cunt, right along with the messy babbling you’ve pathetically reduced his speech to. “please, baby, kiss me more. y’r lips so sweet ‘n warm, i need more, more please, i- ah!”

you can feel your pussy soaking through the thin material of your panties when you grind yourself on genya’s crotch, once, twice, steadily building a rhythm where with every push and pull of your hips you could feel his dick getting harder and growing bigger.

“i can feel you through your shorts, baby,” you moan, shamelessly, keeping that one hand at the back of his head while your free one went to soothe the tight grip he held on your hip, through your oversized sleeping shirt. “your cock feels so hot and hard against my pussy, genya…”

if he’s embarrassed by your vulgar choice of words, genya doesn’t show it, and you’re sure it’s because he’s already so far gone into the steady pleasure, into your addictive touch, that he couldn’t be embarrassed even if he tried to.

he’s so unbelievably horny at this point that everything you say only serves to make his dick twitch inside his briefs.

when you lift yourself up a little, he follows and he whines , and you can’t help the amused giggle because he’s so damn needy already, but you let it play in your favor by taking the chance to slide his shorts down to his mid thighs; before you settle back down, you make sure to ogle the mouth-watering print of his cock tenting the material of his underwear.

“i really, really need to grind on your big cock now, genya. can i?” you ask sweetly, watching him throw his head back against the top of the couch and close his eyes to escape your impish smile and lustful gaze before they make him come embarrassingly early.

“p-please… i want it, baby, i-”

“i think you can do better than that, baby boy,” you coo, and you wonder how much you should push without risking ruining everything you’ve built-up until now but, it seemed, genya found it much easier to tolerate your teasing when he was already in the mood.

“b-babe, please… i need you t’grind your p-pussy on my cock…” he was doing so well, barely even stuttering, and you decided to reward him with a sensual trail of wet kisses on the side of his neck, tense like a bowstring with the self-imposed effort not to thrust up against your core himself. “‘m so so so hard for you, baby… i’ll be such a good b-boy for you…”

“yes you will, baby,” you sigh contentedly and, with that, begin to roll your hips back and forth, swiveling in circles and alternating between fleeting rolls and harsh grinding. “you’re already such a good boy, genya, letting me make you feel so good for me. aren’t you feeling good?”

as if the death grip he held on your hips and the desperate need to match your pace weren’t answer enough, you gave him time to put his own words together, to piece them despite the mist in his brain that only let him whimper and groan and moan breathily and raggedly into your neck.

“y-yes, you feel so good, oh my god, so so good… please don’t stop, please, i’m-” 

“oh? are you close, genya?” and this time he does seem too embarrassed to answer, but you can tell by the trembling of his thighs against yours, the increasing volume of his voice and his clenching hands at your sides that it is, indeed, the case. 

your pussy flutters at the thought of your sweet, lovely and pathetic boyfriend creaming his pants just from some light dry humping, and you decide right then and there that he’s going to do. just. that. 

“n-no…” he finally denies, but it comes out so weak and unconvincing that he has to force himself to try again, “no, no i can’t… can’t cum like this, please-”

“you can, and you will, genya,” your voice is a gentle authority that leaves no room for debate, and he whines shamefully. desperately. “you’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

“...y-yes, but-”

“and good boys make a mess when they’re told to, don’t they?” he’s so lost in your steady rhythm, trying so hard to fend off his impending orgasm that he can’t even come up with a reply. so you do it for him. “yes, they do. and since you are my dirty, little good boy, you’re going to come in your undies and-”

-and that’s exactly what he does. without warning, actually.

it is so sudden that you only know it happens because genya releases a strangled cry and a beautiful chorus of breathless “oh, oh, oh!” at about the same time you start to explicitly feel, through your sodden knickers, his throbbing prick soiling both of your crotches with his sticky seed, hips barely able to keep from chasing his relief with insistent jerks.

you find out later that night (because he tells you through mortifying embarrassment) that that had been the hardest he’d come to date. and you believe him, because it takes him a long time to ride out the euphoria, to settle back from the beautiful arch of his back into a boneless heap of post-orgasmic bliss, panting messily all the while, and you observe, feeling the mess between your thighs grow colder and stiffer as the seconds tick by, but you let him have his moment. he deserves it.

then, the post-nut clarity seems to hit and genya grimaces heavily, everything dawning on him at once; the mess, the shame, the relief, the utter adoration he holds for you because holy shit you really made him do that but he’s-

“s-sorry, oh my god-”

“nope, i’m not letting you apologize for that. you were so fucking hot, genya.” you relish on his flush, but let your tone soften with sincerity. “is everything all good, though? i really hope i didn’t go too far, baby…”

“no… you didn’t.” he seemed to struggle with finding the words, even more with finding your eyes, but you knew his words were honest. “that was actually really good…”

“i’m glad,” and you are, because despite the latent embarrassment, you can tell he enjoyed himself as much as you did. the living room is blanketed in comfortable silence, pride and prejudice still playing in the background, unattended, while you cuddled into his chest.

“but… y’know, there’s actually somethin’ wrong…” his words spike some unease inside of you, but when you look up to try and guess what could possibly be wrong, you’re met with a toothy quirk of his lips and wild-looking eyes that harbor a thrilling promise.

“you haven’t come yet, babe…”

[winxanity-ii]

⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 03 Chapter 03 | Engage Protocol⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The weight of the day's work hung heavy on your mind as you made your way home through the dimly lit streets of Jackson Star. Your fingers were sore from another day of cracking codes, navigating the shadows of the colony's network, but today had been different. Today, you stumbled upon a series of emails from Weyland-Yutani's upper officials. The contents were infuriating: thousands of contracts for colonies on Jackson Star were being forcibly extended.

"Damn those slimy, bastards," you muttered under your breath, your stomach twisting with the thought of Rain being one of those trapped by the company's greed.

You hoped she wasn't among the unfortunate souls shackled to this hellhole for longer. But deep down, you knew she likely was.

Just as you rounded a corner, a commotion up ahead pulled you from your thoughts. A group of children huddled around something—or someone—on the ground. They shouted insults, voices filled with mockery and disdain, their taunts echoing off the metal walls.

"Synthetic freak!" "Wey-Yu trash!"

Pushing through the crowd, you saw the target of their cruel taunts convulsing on the ground: it was Andy.

Without thinking, you sprinted forward. Your heart clenched as you shouted at the kids to back off. "Aye! Stop! Leave him alone, now!" your voice cut through the din like a sharp knife. The kids scattered, startled by your sudden appearance and the fierce anger in your eyes.

Just as you reached Andy, Rain burst out of a nearby building, her face pale with panic. "Andy! Oh gods, Andy!" She dropped to her knees. Andy's body twitched erratically, a thin line of foam trickling from his lips, his eyes rolled back and unseeing.

Rain cradled his head in her lap, her hands frantically searching for her reboot key.

"Rain, you have to turn him on his side. Quick!"

Rain, her hands trembling, tried to follow your instructions, but her movements were frantic. Without hesitation, you knelt beside her, your own panic rising.

"I can't find it—I can't find the reboot key! Fuck!"

"Shit, shit, shit," you muttered under your breath, helping Rain turn Andy onto his side to prevent any further damage. Your hands moved on autopilot, reaching down to your shoe. You pulled a small reboot key from a hidden hollow in the sole and thrust it into Rain's hand. "Here," you said, gently guiding Andy's head to the side to prepare him for the reboot.

The kids' slurs echoed in your mind, and anger simmered beneath your calm exterior. You knew this kind of prejudice existed, but seeing it directed at Andy—a being you'd come to see as more than just a machine—ignited a fire within you.

Rain's hands trembled as she inserted the drive into the small port on Andy's neck and twisted it. The change was immediate. Andy's body tensed, his convulsions stopping abruptly.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your hand instinctively clenching around Andy's twitching one. Then, his eyes fluttered open, the familiar soft glow returning as his systems rebooted.

"Y/N," he said, blinking up at you. "Why did the scarecrow get an award? Because he was outstanding in his field."

A shaky laugh escaped Rain's lips, and you couldn't help but chuckle too, relief flooding through you both. You exchanged a look with Rain, and she smiled weakly, brushing the hair from her face.

"Andy, your jokes are terrible," she muttered affectionately.

Together, the three of you stood, Andy's arm draped over your shoulders as the three of you made your way toward the living area. Rain brushed dirt from his clothes, her touch gentle but firm. "What are you doing home so early, anyway?"

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light. "It was a slow day," you replied. The lie felt bitter on your tongue, but your mind was still on the emails you'd seen earlier. "Have you checked on the status of your contract yet?"

Rain's expression shifted, a shadow passing over her face. "Yeah," she admitted quietly, the weight of the truth settling between you. "They extended it. Not that I expected anything different. Weyland never sticks to their promises."

A silence fell over you both, thick with frustration and unspoken worry. You nudged her gently, offering a small smile. "How about I buy you a treat before your shift starts? A little something to lift your spirits?"

Rain returned your smile with a grateful nod. "I'd like that."

The three of you made your way back towards the colony and just as you neared your building, you spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall. Tyler, Rain's ex-boyfriend, straightened up when he saw you approach.

"Hey, Y/N. Long time no see," he said grinning slightly.

Rain perked up at the sight of him, a small smile touching her lips.

You had mixed feelings about Tyler. He wasn't a bad guy, just... complicated. He and Rain had gotten together not long after her parents died, and for a while, he had been a source of comfort for her. But the relationship had ended quickly and simply, a clean break.

Maybe it was Rain's unwavering loyalty to Andy that Tyler couldn't quite get past, or maybe it was something else. Either way, you had never been particularly close to him, nor had any real reason to dislike him.

You narrowed your eyes at Tyler, not bothering to hide your annoyance. "What do you want, Tyler?"

Tyler managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Well, hello to you too, Y/N." When you didn't respond, he sighed, his demeanor turning serious. "Listen, Rain, Y/N... I need to talk to you both. It's important."

A sense of unease crept up your spine, your instincts screaming that something was off. "What's going on, Tyler?"

He glanced around nervously, his gaze flickering to the shadows as if expecting to be overheard. When he met your eyes again, there was a pleading desperation in his expression. "Can we talk somewhere private? All three of us... it's about something big."

You exchanged a glance with Rain, her eyes silently begging you to agree. Despite the knot of worry tightening in your stomach, you found yourself nodding. "Alright, let's talk."

Tyler led you three to a dusty, outdated hauler parked at the edge of the colony—a Corbelan IV, by the looks of it. As you climbed aboard, the familiar scent of oil and dust filled your nostrils, bringing back memories of long nights spent tinkering with machinery and patching up broken tech.

"Andy!" Tyler shouted behind you three as you climbed up the machinery. "Got a new joke for me?"

"Why was the street sweeper fired?" Andy immediately asked, his voice taking on that familiar, overly sincere tone that always preceded one of his jokes.

"Why?"

"Because he swept dirt," Andy replied, the punchline delivered with such seriousness that it took a moment for the joke to land.

You couldn't help the small groan that escaped your lips, while Rain rolled her eyes with a playful smile. "Please don't encourage him," you muttered under your breath, though you couldn't quite hide the fondness in your voice.

Despite everything, Andy's attempts at humor had a way of lightening the mood, even in the darkest of times.

At the top of the hauler, a small head of brunette hair poked out; it was Tyler's sister, Kay.

The girl stepped forward, her expression softening as she looked at Rain. "Come inside, Rain. We're down here," she said gently. There was a certain urgency in her voice, though she tried to mask it with warmth. "It's been so long since we've all been together like this."

Rain hesitated, her eyes flicking between you, Andy.

You knew this was hard for her—these people had once been her closest friends, practically family. But things had changed since then, and you could see the conflict written all over her face. The tension between wanting to reconnect with them and the reality of the dangerous situation they were proposing.

Seeing her reluctance, Kay reached out and took Rain's hand. "Please, Rain. I've missed you," she said, her voice laced with genuine emotion. "And... so has my brother."

Rain's resolve wavered as she looked over her shoulder at Tyler, who stood by, his eyes silently pleading with her. It was clear that he was banking on their shared history, on the connection they'd once had, to sway her.

You shifted uneasily in front of Andy, watching the exchange with a growing sense of dread. The thought of Rain getting involved in something so risky made your stomach churn. But Rain, ever the one to see the good in people, gave Kay's hand a squeeze and nodded. "Alright," she agreed softly, "let's talk inside."

You followed them into the cramped, dimly lit interior of the hauler, your nerves on edge. The space was cluttered with old tech, discarded equipment, and makeshift seating.

It was clear that this wasn't just a casual gathering—they had been planning something big, something that would require all of their combined skills and resources.

Inside, the rest of Tyler's small group of friends waited: Bjorn, Kay and Tyler's cousin, whose cocky smirk set your teeth on edge; and Navarro, Bjorn's adopted sister, who was quietly checking the contents of a backpack.

You recognized them from the times Rain had still been dating Tyler. They'd been a tight-knit group, often seen together at colony gatherings or in the mess hall.

You knew who they were, had even spoken a bit more to Navarro after finding out about her pilot skills. She had a quiet strength about her, a no-nonsense attitude that you could respect. Conversations with her were always direct, focused on ships and flying techniques, and you appreciated that mutual understanding, that unspoken recognition of each other's abilities.

But out of all of them, Bjorn was the worst. Not just because of his constant, unwelcome attempts to flirt with you or the way he seemed to think every conversation was an opportunity to win you over with his cocky grin and irritating charm.

No, it was more than that. It was his blatant hatred and dislike for synthetics that really got under your skin. He made no effort to hide his disdain for Andy, his sneers and snide remarks always simmering with contempt whenever he talked about "scrap metal" or "Wey-Yu trash."

You could never figure out why. His hatred seemed personal, like it was rooted in something deeper than the usual wariness people felt towards synthetics. It was as if Bjorn had some buried grudge, something that made him despise Andy and others like him with a passion that was almost disturbing.

You had thought about asking him once, trying to understand where this deep-seated animosity came from, but you decided against it. There was no point in digging into whatever bitterness lay in Bjorn's past, especially when it meant more hostility towards Andy.

Bjorn's attitude was a constant reminder of the prejudice that lingered on Jackson Star, a colony already weighed down by so many injustices. The way he treated Andy infuriated you, igniting a protective fire inside you that you tried to keep in check. Because to you, Andy was more than just a synthetic. He was family.

Navarro was the first to greet Rain as she entered, her usual aloof demeanor softened by a genuine smile. "It's good you came, Rain," she said, pulling Rain into a brief, awkward hug. "We've all missed you around here."

Bjorn, leaning against the far wall with his usual smug grin, added, "I heard about your father. It hurts me." His tone was casual, almost dismissive, as if discussing something far less significant. It made your blood boil—how could he be so flippant about something that had torn Rain apart?

But Rain, ever composed, simply nodded, though you could see the pain flicker in her eyes. "Thanks, Bjorn," she replied quietly, her voice tight with emotion.

As you stepped into the cramped, dimly lit interior of the hauler, Navarro's eyes brightened when she saw you, and she immediately walked over. "Hey! Did you hear about the new gravity dampeners they're testing on the Pleroma class ships?" she asked, a hint of excitement growing in her voice. "Supposedly, they've reduced the spin drift by thirty percent. Imagine what we could do with those on a hauler like this!"

Before you could answer, Bjorn sauntered over with that familiar grin plastered on his face. "Y/N~" he purred, drawing out your name, "you've been a stranger lately. Why haven't you come around more often?" His tone was light, teasing, but you could hear the underlying note of something else—interest, maybe even desire.

You gave him a blunt response, keeping your expression neutral. "Because Rain and Tyler aren't together anymore, and I have no reason to."

A brief, awkward silence settled over the room as your words hung in the air. Bjorn chuckled, clearly unfazed by your bluntness, and leaned casually against the wall next to you. "Well," he said, his grin never faltering, tone dripping with false charm, "we could always fix that by hooking up, don't you think?"

You felt a surge of irritation rise within you, ready to curse him out or tell him exactly what you thought of his suggestion. But before you could say anything, Andy, who had been standing quietly beside you, suddenly spoke up. "Why did the pirate bring a hook to the party? Because he thought it was a 'hook'-up event!"

The joke was terrible, but it broke the tension, pulling a few chuckles from Navarro and even Tyler. Bjorn's scowl deepened, and he pushed away from the wall, moving back across the room, clearly irritated. You couldn't help but feel a small sense of satisfaction seeing him knocked off his game.

Tyler, sensing the need to steer things back on track, stepped forward with a more serious expression. "Alright, enough messing around," he said, his voice steady and focused. "Rain, Y/N… there's something you need to see." He glanced between the two of you, making sure he had your attention. "This isn't just a reckless idea—we've found something, something that could change everything."

You narrowed your eyes at him, wary of where this was headed. "Show us," you said, keeping your voice steady.

Tyler led you deeper into the hauler, toward a small screen embedded in the wall. He pressed a few buttons, and the screen flickered to life, displaying a map of the surrounding space. A blip on the screen indicated a large object drifting in orbit.

"Last night," Tyler began, "we were loading the last Tesotek when the freighter intercepted a signal from this." He pointed to the blip on the screen. "It's a Weyland-Yutani ship, discarded and abandoned, just drifting above us. It's due to crash into the planet's rings in about 36 hours."

You scoffed, already suspecting where this was going. "An abandoned Weyland ship?" you guessed, your voice dripping with skepticism. "What use is an old, worn hunk of metal?"

Tyler's expression remained serious as he continued, "The manifest for the station shows it has multiple cryostasis chambers. If we can salvage them before the ship crashes, we could use them to make the long journey to Yvaga III."

"Oh, don't write it off too soon, Y/N. Who knows, that scrap, piece of junk might come in handy." Bjorn smirked at you before his gazed flickered to Andy with a mocking glint in his eyes. "No different than him, I suppose," he sneered.

Your temper flared instantly. "What's your fucking point, Bjorn?" you snapped, cutting through the tension with your impatience. You were done with the games, done with the veiled insults.

Tyler stepped in, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Why sit here and wait for travel permits that we'll never get? The freighter can get us to Yvaga, but it takes nine years to reach the planet, and we'd have to sleep in cryosleep."

Rain frowned, her expression filled with doubt. "And you think this derelict ship might have functional cryosleep chambers?"

Kay nodded, her hand resting protectively on her belly. "The hyperlink shows that the ship still has capsules left. We could use them to get to Yvaga, to start over somewhere better."

You crossed your arms, skepticism etched deep into your face. "So, you want to empty a Weyland-Yutani ship of heavily banned equipment? Do you realize how insane that sounds?"

"Of course we do," Bjorn laughed, his eyes gleaming with a manic excitement. "So, will you help us?"

Rain, her tone cautious, asked, "What do you need us for?"

Tyler turned his focus to Andy. "Andy. We need Andy. He's synthetic and can interface with MU-TH-UR 9000—the ship's onboard computer system. He can get us in and out without any fuss."

Rain's concern was immediate. "But what if you get caught? If Weyland finds out, you'll never get a travel permit."

Bjorn scoffed, impatience clear in his voice. "Look, Rain, you two don't have to go, alright? We just need to borrow Andy."

Rain's protective instinct flared. "My brother isn't going up there alone," she declared, standing firm beside Andy.

"He's not your brother," Bjorn shot back dismissively, a sneer in his voice. "He's a defective Wey-Yu scrap your father found in the dump. Wake up, love."

That was the last straw. You stepped forward, fully done with Bjorn's shit, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Shut your fucking mouth, Bjorn," you snapped. "You don't get to talk about Andy like that. I'm sick of your damn attitude. For a bastard that needs help, you sure run your mouth a lot."

You grabbed Andy's hand, feeling a surge of protectiveness, and nudged Rain toward the door. It was clear you were ready to leave.

Tyler sighed, turning to his cousin. "Bjorn, c'mon..."

Bjorn raised his hands in mock surrender, a condescending grin on his face. "What? I didn't say anything..."

"Wait, Rain!" Tyler reached out, gently grabbing Rain's arm to stop her. "My cousin may be a fool, but he's right about one thing."

Rain turned to look at Tyler, her expression conflicted but still listening. You could see her loyalty pulling her in different directions, her resolve weakening under the weight of what Tyler was saying.

Tyler pressed on, his voice filled with urgency. "You have to wake up, Rain. The company gives us nothing, and you know it. We have to take it."

You could feel Rain's hesitation, the tension in her shoulders as she considered Tyler’s words. Her past with him and the others still held sway, the memories of better times, of a time when things weren’t so complicated.

"Rain," Tyler said softly, his voice almost breaking, "I just don't want to end up like our parents. Do you?"

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them pressing down on everyone in the room. Rain's eyes dropped to the floor, her breath shaky. You saw the pain of loss and fear reflected in her eyes—the fear of a future that might hold nothing but more suffering.

"Is your plan as simple as you make it sound?" Rain finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tyler nodded earnestly. "You won't even have to get out of Corbelan. I promise. Just help us get Andy onboard, and he can handle the rest. What do you say?"

The room fell silent as Rain weighed her options. You stayed close to her, your hand still wrapped around Andy's, ready to back her up no matter what she decided.

You knew this was a pivotal moment, one that would set the course for all of you, and you could only hope that whatever choice she made would be the right one.

☆

☆

A bitter taste of anxiety filled your mouth as the cargo ship beneath you began to rumble, the vibration resonating through your bones. The hauler Corbelan IV shuddered as it powered up, the engine's growl echoing in the confined space.

The sound was a constant, thrumming reminder of the risks ahead, of the dangerous path Rain had chosen.

Navarro sat at the controls, her fingers deftly gliding over the panel, flipping switches and pressing buttons with practiced precision as she fired up the systems.

Her expression was one of intense focus, eyes glued to the readouts and screens that flashed with data. "I'm firing her up. Batteries are online," she called out, a mixture of concentration and excitement in her voice.

To her left, Kay was curled up with her head leaning against the wall, her eyes half-closed, a hand resting protectively on her belly.

Tyler was seated next to Rain by the window, his gaze fixed outside at the expanse of space, a slight furrow in his brow, adding onto the tension on his face.

Your seat was beside Andy, who sat quietly, his face a serene mask despite the chaos around him. "Dee, you know you can back out of this anytime, right?" you whispered, searching his synthetic eyes for any sign of doubt or hesitation. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Andy turned his head slightly to face you, his expression neutral yet somehow comforting. "My directive is clear: to do what's best for Rain," he replied calmly. "If this mission will help make that possible, then that's what I will do."

You nodded, trying to hide the concern gnawing at your insides. "Just... be careful," you said softly, knowing it might be pointless but needing to say it anyway.

Your heart heavy with worry but also filled with a strange sense of pride. Andy wasn't just a machine to you—he was family. And like any family member, he was stepping up to help in a time of need, even if it meant facing unknown dangers.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bjorn standing cockily, his straps keeping him upright as the ship tilted slightly. He pulled out a cigarette, a grin plastered on his face as he lit it up, the flame from the lighter stretching unnaturally high in the low-pressure cabin.

The sight made your stomach churn—Bjorn always did have a way of ignoring common sense.

"For fuck's sake, put that shit out, Bjorn," you snapped, your tone sharp. "We're in a sealed environment, dumbass."

Bjorn just smirked, taking a slow drag before putting the cigarette out on the metal wall. "Relax, Y/N," he drawled. "Just trying to take the edge off."

Navarro's voice cut through the tension, clear and commanding. "Hydro, please. Comm panel," she called out, glancing back to check if everyone was secured.

"Ground spoilers," someone called out.

"Activated," Navarro confirmed, her hands moving over the controls with practiced ease as the ship prepared for takeoff.

The ship's cabin was filled with the sounds of various systems coming online, a mix of beeping, whirring, and the occasional hiss of steam or hydraulic fluid. "Now comes the pressure," Navarro noted, focusing on the controls as she maneuvered the ship.

The ship shuddered again, and you felt the engines roar to life beneath you, thrusting you back into your seat. Your breath caught in your throat as the hauler broke free from the artificial gravity of Jackson Star and launched into the black void of space.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Andy asks, his voice steady, cutting through the growing noise.

You nod, gripping the armrest tighter. "Yeah," you reply, though you're not entirely sure. "Yeah, I'm fine, Dee."

The minutes ticked by like hours as the ship continued to climb, the view outside the window shifting from the dark, soot-filled skies of the colony to the endless expanse of the cosmos.

The stars outside the window seemed to shimmer and shift as you broke through the upper atmosphere.

You see Rain's eyes widen as the first glimpse of stars becomes visible, a glimmer of hope in her gaze.

"Take a good look at the view," Bjorn chimed in. "Because we will never come back."

Tyler leaned closer to Rain, concern evident on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Rain nodded, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. "I'm fine," she replied, more to convince herself than anyone else.

Bjorn laughed as he looked at everyone's serious faces, a harsh, mocking sound. "Now, isn't this a good idea?"

The distant sun casted a warm, golden glow across the metal of the hauler, its light diffusing gently as it mingled with the faint glimmers of distant galaxies.

Rain's eyes were glued to the viewport, her face illuminated by the distant glow of the sun. "Is that...?"

"Yes," Tyler confirmed, following her gaze. "That's our sun."

You watched as a soft smile spread across Rain's face, her eyes filled with a mixture of awe and longing. "Yvaga had to have the most beautiful sunsets," she murmured. "I have seen them... in dreams. I look forward to seeing them with you."

Tyler nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Cryosleep is said to feel like a drunken night. So when we wake up at Yvaga tomorrow, it will be with a hangover."

Navarro's voice came through again, this time softer, more reverent. "There she is," she whispered, her gaze focused on the distant object looming ahead. "Our destination."

You leaned forward, peering out the window as the silhouette of the derelict spacecraft came into view. It was massive, a sprawling structure drifting silently through space. "That's not a ship," you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Bjorn, still standing, scoffed. "No, it's not," he agreed. "Looks like a scrapped space station."

"Seems that it's divided into two parts—Romulus and Remus." Navarro corrected, adjusting the trajectory slightly to match the station's roll. "Huh, wonder what's in there."

Your heart pounded as the realization sank in. This wasn't just an abandoned ship. This was something far more complex, something that might be filled with more than just the cryostasis chambers you needed.

A part of you wondered what else Weyland-Yutani might have left behind, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

Navarro's hands flew over the controls, adjusting their course to avoid the oncoming debris. "Everyone hold on," she ordered, her voice steady but strained. "This is gonna be a bumpy ride."

You glanced at Andy, his expression calm and focused, and felt a small flicker of reassurance. He was ready, and so were you. Whatever came next, you would face it together.

The cargo ship thrummed beneath you as it adjusted its course, the tension in the cabin thick enough to cut with a knife. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

When you opened them again, the station loomed closer, a dark silhouette against the stars, and you knew there was no turning back now.

A/N: lololo, i just can't get this lil fic out of my head. by the pace i'm going, i'll end up writing the whole damn movie out 🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️ anywho hope i didnt bore you all, tried to make it different instead of just plastering y/n into the story with no changes, lolol, i even trie to add a lil synthetic prejudice 💀 oohh can't wait to get to the part wheree we learn about bjorns hate for synthetics

Tag List: @dreamsarenicer

[yennas-stuff]

E/riels say that we deny that Elain feels any attraction towards Azriel and that they are just supporting her in what she wants. That Eluciens don't listen to what she wants.

First of all, all Eluciens notice these interactions between Azriel and Elain. Nobody is denying she likes and probably feels attracted to him as of now. What we are noticing as of now, though, doesn't have to have any baring on the endgame pairing. We are just questioning the sustainability and depth of these feelings when faced with a mating bond and, basically, an immortal life.

To put it in the simplest terms: Does the crush you had in college have any impact on your future relationship with your spouse? Nobody will deny that the previous feelings or attractions were real. But it doesn't change the endgame. Nothing is set in stone (except for the mating bond that stays with you forever).

If you add the inevitable nature of a mating bond and the fact that you can live for hundreds of years... Feels silly to think Elain and Lucien wouldn't even try to explore it.

And about what Elain wants... We don't know it. Her actions only signify some surface level attraction and playfulness. It also really disappoints me when people only see Elain giving Azriel gag gifts as her showing romantic interest in him. It was supposed to show us her true character and her being capable of being fun and playful. But E/riels take it away from her and make this small indication of her personality into something about a man.

When it comes to the whole consent to shipping that a fictional character is supposed to give... It's ridiculous to even discuss it. No Elucien wants Elain to be forced into a relationship. But we do understand her hesitancy. Mating bond is like this ultimate YOU NEED TO TRY THIS. IT'S GOOD FOR YOU sign from the universe that has a very big significance and is sacred to the world she just found herself in. I do notice that she's rebelling against it. And I dont hold it against her. But I believe they will find the way to each other and fall in love despite the mating bond.

My final point to the whole "having a problem with shipping people who are not into each other as of now..." It's an unfinished love story. It's like reading the first half of Pride and Prejudice and saying Elizabeth should be with Mr Wickham because she was into him and she hates Mr. Darcy. The whole enemies to lovers trope is based on getting over prejudices, getting to know each other, and falling in love. It's something that has already happened to the main acotar couples... twice. And Elain and Lucien are not even enemies. They are just strangers tied to each other by forces stronger than them.