#she's surely married to a lot of people if i take yall's word for it

[jewishcissiekj]

Lots of people in the last few days calling Asajj Ventress their wife. Someone ought to investigate that it smells like a scandal

[cumsuga]

Grey Areas Pt 2

taehyung x fem!reader

genre. smut, fluff, angst, romance, non-idol!au, twin!taehyung, BIL!taehyung, widowedmother!reader

Your husband is dead, now you're trying to avoid the man that looks exactly like him. The only problem with that is trauma bonds people, sometimes in more ways than one 

warnings: death of a spouse, sleeping with your brother-in-law, grief, unprotected sex (Be safe and be smart; please use condoms), mentions of part infidelity, smoking, light drinking, taehyung is definitely in love with his sister-in-law aka reader, you're a mama (lots of drama), yall be fuckin', anal(?), Taehyung likes fat asses.

word count: 5k

18+ (Minors DNI)

A/n: First and foremost, thank you, @hbkdrecs, for testing/proofreading! I don't know if I'll make this a series or just leave it a mini. Anyway, thank you, everyone,for all the support! Please support your local fic writer by liking and reblogging! Y'all are the best!

Taglist!: @ohsweetmimosa

“You know you fucked up, right?” Jimin asks. Taehyung had spent the two weeks with you as he told you he would. Every night was spent in each other's arms, him in between your thighs or you on your knees. You couldn’t understand what it was about Taehyung, but you couldn’t keep your hands off him. Part of you thought it was because he looked like his brother, but the other part thought he was nothing like Sujin. Taehyung was the complete opposite of him, making you want him even more. 

“Jimin, you told me you wouldn’t judge me.” you rub the bridge of your nose. Jimin, your best friend since birth, was known to be a judgy bitch, but right now, you need less judgment and more advice.

“Listen, I’m never one to judge, but bitch.. He’s your dead husband's IDENTICAL twin brother… Right now is the best time to judge. Hell, this is like the plot of an awful lifetime movie. Except Taehyung didn’t trick you into thinking he was Sujin.” he takes a sip of his tea, smiling.

“I’m going to hell, aren’t I?” you gnaw on your thumb. You’re too far gone with Taehyung to go back now. You think you may even love him. He makes you feel safe. He'd choose you if he had to choose between you or his family. It was a naive way to think, but you didn’t care. Why should you? Sujin cheated on you for the majority of your pregnancy, and though you’re not one for revenge, it sure tastes good cold.

“Oh baby, straight to hell, but that's okay. You can explain to Sujin when you see him there.” he chuckles, scooting a mug over to you.

“Jimin. That's not funny. I was with Su for most of my life, and we were married. It’s too early to joke about it! You’re literally being the worst best friend ever.” You groan, and you wish he would be serious. “This is like life or death, serious.”

“My love, you’ve crossed a line from which you can no longer return. There is no advice I could possibly give you that would make you feel better.  You're smitten. I knew you were when you called and told me you had to tell me something.” 

You sign because, though you’ll never tell him, he’s right. You crossed a line, but you never said you wanted to return. You were fine with knowing you fucked your dead husband’s brother. You could live with it because Sujin would never find out. The only problem was that you didn’t know if you could stop.

—-

“Bro.. that's fucked.” Jungkook looks horrified.

“Listen, I’ve been in love with her since I was 10. I know it’s wrong, but she means everything to me. I just want to take care of her.” Taehyung shrugs Jungkook off. He feels remorse about it, but he won’t lose sleep over it. 

“But that’s your brother's wife. Morally, it’s wrong. Jungkook is justifiably horrified.” Namjoon chimes, 

“Namjoon, you slept with Jungkook’s sister. I don’t wanna hear SHIT from you.” he’s starting to regret telling his friends about his indiscretion. Jungkook looks bewildered by the revelation, but everyone decides it’s best not to open that particular can of worms.

“I support you.” Yoongi walks into the garage. “Namjoon sent me a voice note of the details. I don’t think what you did was wrong. From what you told us about her before, you called dibs, and Su disregarded bro code. Fuck’em.”

“Hey, that’s still my brother. Chill.” he mean mugs Yoongi.

“Man, we’re a little past the respect thing for Su. I’ll always have love for him, but if we're being honest, he was a shitty guy. Lest we forget the 2016 incident? He’s been doing this shit to that girl for years, we all knew, and we said nothing. We’re all just as bad as him. Namjoon, you witnessed the 2016 incident. Jungkook, you knew it was gonna happen, and Tae Su told you everything. So let’s not all act like we’re all holier than thou.” Yoongi lights a cigarette and takes a long drag.

Everyone is quiet, reflecting on how they’ve all wronged you. Taehyung felt the worst about it all because he knew Sujin had cheated before, but you guys were kids when it happened, and he didn’t think Su would do it again. Taehyung made Sujin swear he wouldn’t, or he’d tell you everything.

“Yoongi’s right…” Jungkook and Namjoon say in unison.

“I know... I know.” He sighs, “What should I do? All I want to do is be with her.”

“So do it. At this point, Tae, you have nothing to lose. If your family disagrees, fuck them. You’ve secretly loved the girl for years. I’m sure Sujin would forgive you. Hell, you forgave him. Now is the time to act.” Taehyung nods, “One more thing... Are you ever gonna tell her it was you?”

Taehyung calls you while you’re returning from picking up groceries. He tells you he wants to talk, and you’re happy because you also want to talk. You miss him, as crazy as it sounds. You want nothing more than to be in his presence.

When you pull up, he’s outside again waiting for you. When he sees you, he immediately goes to help you with Azra. Giving you a quick peck before he rounds the car to you. “Hi, princess.”  He gets him out of the car and grabs his diaper bag. Your heart melts seeing him and Azra together, and you feel so fucking guilty. Jimin's words are starting to affect you more than you thought they would.

“DADDY!” Azra screams when he sees Taehyung, squishing Taehyung’s cheeks together. Naturally, you go to correct him, but Taehyung is visibly uncomfortable with it and quickly corrects him.

“No baby, I’m Uncle Taetae. Daddy… Daddy is with Grandpa in the sky.” He points to the sky, and Azra looks up and repeats the word sky. Taehyung pecks his head and walks into the house with you.

He sets Azra in his play place when he gets in and helps you with whatever you are carrying. “Go rest, I’ll grab the rest.” but you pull him back to you.

“Wait. I missed you. C’mere,” You pull him into a kiss. It’s soft and sweet. He smiles into the kiss. He finds it strange how natural everything feels, and he finds it even stranger that he doesn’t feel guilty about what you two are doing. 

He gently pulls you away, “My love, I’ll be right back. I’m just gonna go get the groceries. I’m not going anywhere.” He pecks you once more before heading out the door.

You sit with Azra and play with him while Taehyung brings in all the groceries, and you wish Sujin was like this. Sujin helped but never made it a point to do it all himself. The more you compare the two, the more resentful you grow of Su. You want to hate yourself for it desperately, but you can’t. 

Taehyung calls out to you from the kitchen, “Babe, did you mean to buy baby food?” you can hear him rummaging through the cabinets and putting stuff away.

“Yeah, I thought we were out. Why?” you say as Azra tries to climb in your lap.

“Because you bought more baby food and have a whole bunch.” You plop him on top of you. He begins playing with your fingers lazily while watching Baby Shark.

“Oh, well, now I won’t have to go get more in two weeks.” everything feels so domestic. It scares you a bit. “Hey, you said you wanted to talk. What about?” You stand up with Azra and walk towards the kitchen.

“About… us.” He stops what he’s doing and looks over at you. He gives you a look that worries you just a bit. Sujin would look at you like that right before starting an argument.

“What about us?” You ask as Azra reaches out for Taehyung, and Taehyung happily takes him.

“Azzy, no fingers in your mouth.” You move to take his thumb out of his mouth, and Azra buries his head into Tae’s chest.

“Daddy..” he pouts into him, and at this point, Taehyung is too tired to keep correcting Azra. 

“That’s not Daddy, Azra.” you try to take him back from Tae, but he starts to cry and cling to him.

“Daddy! Az say no!” Azra cries out.

Taehyung sighs, “Has he napped today?” 

You shake your head no, “Just leave him. He’s cranky because someone needs a nap. Azzy want to take a nap with… papa?” Azra nods his head, and they leave to go to the bedroom so Taehyung can put him down for a nap. Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung emerges from the bedroom and joins you on the couch. 

“I’ve never seen him so cranky.” he tried to pull you closer to him, but he could tell you were upset. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ever do that again.” you push away from him. “You’re not his dad, don’t do that. I don’t like that.”

He pulls you into his lap, “Listen, I know I’m not his dad. But he was cranky, and I was just trying to remedy the situation. I’m sorry, baby.” you pout at him, and he kisses it away. You’re both silent for a while, watching the TV.

“Do you think we’re bad people?” you question out of nowhere, turning to face him.

“What do you mean?” he’s still looking at the TV but rubbing your knee lazily.

“Tae, look at me.” he looks towards you, so you question again, “Do you think we’re bad people?”

“I mean, kinda. We are bad people because of our previous relationship, but at the same time, I don't think we're bad people for finding solace in each other. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I’m not faulting myself for finally expressing that; I don’t care if my family is upset about it. We’re happy. Shouldn’t that mean the most?” his eyes feel like they're burrowing into your soul. 

“What do you mean you’ve loved me for a very long time?” The revelation takes you aback, but he’s silent. His cheeks are flushed, and he can’t believe he just told on himself.

“I–I’m. Uhh..” he doesn’t know what to say. He’s scared of your thoughts when he tells you the truth. But he takes a deep breath and lets it go. “You remember when we were all kids? Do you remember when Sujin confessed to you? Well… that wasn’t Su… It was me. And even though you were with Sujin, I never got over you… That’s why I stopped coming around as much when you and Su got married, even less when you got pregnant, and all together when Azra was born. Because I didn’t want to accept that you chose Su, I couldn’t take the fact that my brother knew how I felt about you and still decided to be with you. Sujin wasn’t as amazing a person as everyone thought. He was and still is an asshole. I know I should be upset that he’s dead, but I can’t be. My brother was a terrible person to me. Now I’m just happy I finally get to be with the only woman I’ve ever loved.” 

You’re shocked. It felt like a million volts to your system. You never thought in a million years that Taehyung was the boy who confessed to you. He was always so quiet and reserved. Even in middle school and high school, he was never into dating, but now it all makes sense. He never really dated because he wanted to be with you.

“Well… Well, what about Naomi? You two were together for five years. You can’t tell me you didn’t love her. You had to have if you were together so long.” You need him to tell you he’s lying. He has to be because it feels like Sujin used you to get under Taehyung’s skin right now.

“I mean sure… I thought I loved her and wished God that I could have given her what she wanted from me. But It wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along. If I could take it back and not hurt her the way I did, I would in a heartbeat. No one deserves that, and I hate that I did that to someone. To this day, I send her little things to apologize. All of them returned, but I feel a little better knowing I’m trying to right my wrongs to her.” he’s looking at his hands, ashamed of his past actions.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you take his hands in yours, just a little sign to show him you’re not closing him out. He felt so much relief knowing you weren’t scared of his secret.

“What was I supposed to say, Y/N? ‘Hey, I’m actually the guy that confessed to you, and I think you should be with me and not the man you had a baby with?’ You would’ve looked at me like I had six heads, baby. I know you.” he sighs.

“I wouldn’t have… Honestly, the more we’re together, the more I wonder what life would have been like if we had been together since childhood,” you say honestly, and you feel like a weight has lifted from you. Even though Sujin’s only been gone a month, you’re entirely ready to let him go. You’re tired of keeping this relationship a secret and don’t care what others say about it. Sujin wasn’t a good husband to you, and you were tired of pretending he was.

Taehyung smiles at you, “Honestly, me too.” he kisses you softly.

“What are we going to tell Azra when he gets older?” This was your primary worry. You didn’t want your son to get bullied because kids are ruthless.

“Don’t beat me up when I say this, but maybe we should raise him as mine? I mean.. Genetically he is. I will have to get used to him calling me dad, but I’m with it if you are?”

Taehyung sees your shift in mood, but he knows that you know he’s right. “I’ll have to think about that, Taehyung... You’re right, but I’m still a little apprehensive about it.” you’re chewing on your thumb again, but Taehyung pulls it from your mouth to kiss you.

“No fingers in your mouth but mine,” he says as he moves to kiss your neck, and you push him away, giggling. 

“Ew, don’t ever say stuff like that to me. Weirdo.” You stand up from the couch, and he smacks your ass as you walk past him. 

“Where you going?” He asks as you disappear into the back of the house. You wanted to make sure Azra was asleep.

“I'm just checking on the baby.” You walk back into the living room, sitting in Tae’s lap.

“God, my brother didn’t deserve you. You’re such a great woman. I don’t care what anyone says.” You two are trying to make out, but something constantly interrupts you. This time, it’s your phone, and it’s your mother-in-law. She sounds pissed but keeps everything very short.

“Your mom is on her way here. She sounds mad. I think you should leave..” You’re panicking. She alluded to knowing about you and Taehyung. “I think she knows.”

“So what? You said you wanted to be with me. Why does it matter if she knows or not?” You’re pacing the living room. How could she have found out? You didn’t tell anyone outside of Jimin. You didn’t go anywhere together. There's no way... “Taehyung, please. I don’t think this is going to end well for you… for us..”

“No. I’m not leaving. I love you, and I want to be with you. I don’t care what she thinks.” He stands firm on it, not even budging off the couch. You didn’t want to do this, especially in front of your son. But before you could even process it, there was a knock at your door.

“Taehyung, please! Hide or something. Azra,” you’re whisper yelling at this point, and the knock is getting louder. But she barges in like God was punishing you for being in love. You had forgotten you had given her a key when you and Su bought the house. She sees Taehyung sitting there and immediately starts with the bullshit you were trying to avoid.

“So, it’s true?” she sneers, “Ms. Killian called and told me you haven’t left since the funeral. She told me that she had seen you two kissing in the driveway. So is that what you do? Like a whore? Your husband, my son, dies, and you move on to his brother? And you flaunt it in public. You must be a whore. Is that baby even Sujin’s, or is it Taehyung’s or some other man's?”

You stand there quietly. Too terrified to speak, you thought you were ready for everyone to know about you and him, but fuck were you wrong. This is your worst nightmare. “Speak, whore!” she screams at you.

“Please..” you say meekly, “The baby.”

“Oh, so now you care about my grandson? You didn’t care when you were fucking his uncle. You didn’t care when you were flaunting it to the whole fucking neighborhood!”

You look at Taehyung, and he immediately steps in front of you, “Don’t talk to her like that. You know nothing but what you were told by some senile old lady that doesn’t ever know how to mind her own fucking business.”

She smacks him, scoffing, “Don’t you ever insult my intelligence, you little shit. You were always like this, so jealous of your brother. Always wanting what he had. You never amounted to half of what your brother was.”

“My brother was a lying, cheating piece of trash. I spoke to Natalie. She told me you gave her Su’s number and encouraged her to contact him because his current girlfriend wasn’t as hard-working and was freeloading off your son. You were complicit in his cheating on his pregnant wife. Don’t act so fucking high and mighty, mother. You’re the exact same as Su, and that’s why my father left you.”

You stand there stunned. You don’t want to believe Taehyung, but what would he gain from lying about it? She says nothing and looks away from the both of you. That confirms all you need to know. She knew about it.

“I did nothing of the sort.” she scoffs again, “You’re the one lying up in his house with his wife. You both are scum. My son deserved better than a whore for a wife and a worthless piece of trash like you for a brother.”

“Oh please, you miserable insufferable cunt. You only cared about Su because he did whatever you told him to do. You’re upset because you no longer have someone to control. It fucking kills you to see me happy. But you know what? I couldn’t give less of a fuck. I love her, and she loves me. Go fuck yourself.”

“I think you need to leave.” You hear Azra crying in the distance. “Actually, get the fuck out of my house.” you’re seething. If you knew you wouldn’t go to jail for beating her ass, you do it in a heartbeat.

She doesn’t budge, and she is stubborn, just like Su. “I SAID GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE, YOU EVIL BITCH!” 

“When I tell the family, you will have nothing. You will be alone, just like you always were.” Taehyung just shakes his head in disdain, “Just you wait, and as for you, you little slut. If I ever see your face again, I’ll slap that fucking look off of it.”

“I dare you to. Now get out.” You say, pushing her out the door and rushing to Azra.

“Sh, sh, sh, it’s okay. Momma’s here, my sweet boy. No more tears.”

You're rocking Azra when Taehyung joins you in the room. “I’m sorry, this was never my intention.” He takes Azra from you and sits you in the rocking chair.

“Just sit here and calm down. I’ll get him to stop crying.” He says, walking out of the room and into the kitchen.

When he leaves, you burst into tears; a million thoughts run through your head. What are your parents going to say? What if she tells Azra’s daycare? What will they do? What about Azra and his relationship with them? You knew it was life-ruining and thought you were ready to face it, but you weren’t. You’re scared, and you feel alone in the feeling.

Taehyung joins you with a sleeping Azra back in the room. He sets him gently in the crib and kneels in front of you. “Hey, hey. No more tears, remember? Everything is going to be okay. I will make sure of that. Please don’t cry, sweetheart.” he takes your hands, kissing them softly.

You want to be mad, you want to keep crying, but he just had this effect on you. He made you feel so safe, so secure. You knew he would shield you from the fallout because that’s just what Taehyung does. He’s a nurturer, and you loved that dearly about him.

“I need to tell you one more thing…” he says before telling you about the 2016 incident. He told you about all the girls Sujin cheated on you with before he asked you to marry him. He told you that Sujin said it was to get it out of his system before he was chained down forever. He told you that he kept it from you to protect you and that he should’ve told you when it happened to save you from all the pain you’re going through. He apologized for hurting you and swore never to keep a secret from you again.

“I need you to trust me. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my life. I swear on my life, you mean everything to me, and I’ll never lie to you again, " he says before kissing you passionately. “I love you, Y/N. Please believe me.”

“I never said I didn’t, Dummy. I just wish you would’ve told me before I married that prick.” You say, wiping your nose on your sweater and laughing. He laughs softly with you. “How’d you get him to sleep so quickly?”

“Oh, I told him that if he went back to bed, I’d buy him ice cream after his nap. And I swear he was out like a light. It was pretty weird.” he chuckles.

You cup Taehyung’s cheek, rubbing it softly, “I wish it were you.” you peck him.

“Hey, better late than never at all, am I right?” he gets big-headed, so you push him down, but he pulls you with him. He is kissing you again, this time a little rougher than before.

“Not here. Let’s go to the room.” you stand up, extending your hand to him. “Come cuddle with me.”

He gets up, pulling you close to whisper in your ear, “Oh baby girl, we're gonna do more than cuddle. I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you.” Your cheeks are bright red when he pulls you away.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” you shy away from him, but that only eggs him on more.

“Don’t get all coy on me now. You like it when I talk to you like that.” He picks you up and walks you to your bedroom. He tosses you on the bed. 

“You’re all I need, all I want.” He climbs on top of you, pushing your sweater up splaying his hand across your tummy. “I mean fucking look at you… You’re literally my own personal wet dream.”

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth while he works on getting your jeans off. You’re squirming at his touch. You were never like this with Sujin, but he never cared to take his time with you. He would never even eat you out. The first time you ever got head, it was from Taehyung. And it was the best thing you ever experienced. He told you he loved eating pussy, and said it made him feel like a man to make his woman feel good before him.

“Off with these, I wanna taste you. You looked so sexy putting my mom in her place.” He kisses his way down your tummy and you instinctively try to close your legs. Always so shy to him seeing you so on display. 

“Taehyung..” you keen when he plants a light kiss on the space above your clit, he loved toying with you. He liked seeing you so needy for him. “No games.. Eat it.”

He pops his head up to look at you, ‘Someone is eager, but I think..” he spits directly on your clit and you swear it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, making you clench around nothing.

“I think-fuck- I think, I’ll play with it a little.” he pushes his fingers to your clit, before rubbing his spit around. “I mean, listening to how you sound. One could cum from the sound alone, if I do say so myself. It’s so fucking lewd.”

You moan something that sounds like his name softly, “I’m gonna make you cum just off my fingers before I eat it. I wanna play with your pussy, princess. You like that? Tell me you like it, please… fuck.” he pushes two fingers into you.

“Love it...” you buck your hips into his hand, grabbing his wrist so you could fuck yourself on his finger. Taehyung is just staring at you in awe, I mean sure he’s fingered you before but he’s never seen you like this. “Love it when you play with my pussy, daddy..”

“Fuuuck…” he can’t believe his eyes, his dream girl getting herself off on his fingers. This is everything he hoped for and more. “You’re so fucking nasty.”

“Only for you, wanna be yours. Tell me I’m yours, please baby…please, spit on it again” you beg. And he happily obliges you, he wants nothing more than to get you off quickly so he can go to town on you.

He can feel you starting to squeeze his fingers so he moves his fingers quickly, curling them to rub your G-spot. “You’re mine, my good girl. Fuck, look at you cumming all over my fingers. So fucking hot.”

You come undone beneath him, moaning the most sinful music to his ears, “I’ll eat you out tomorrow.” he pulls you down to the edge of the bed, flipping you on your stomach, and ridding himself of his clothes. 

“I love pretty things,” he smacks your ass hard, causing you to yelp, before getting you into position. He rubs his tip into your wetness before tapping his dick against your clit.

“Lemme put it in your butt.” he prods your hole and you look back at him like he’s crazy. “Taehyung don’t even play with me like that. That’s something that needs preparation.”

He chuckles, “I’m kidding-fuck” he pushes into you,” fuck.. I’m kidding.”

Your head drops into the bed, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Taehyung was big, like you knew lanky men were usually big, but fuck that stretch made you see stars every time.

“Big..” is all you could get out before he starts thrusting into you. He smacks your ass again.

“But you can take it all, can't you.” you nod biting your lip. You feel like you’re on ecstasy every time you two have sex, he hits all the right spots. “Yeah I know you can because you’re my good little cockslut.” he smacks again before gripping your cheeks fucking you back into him.

“All this ass, and you expect me to not want to fuck it? You’re crazy, princess. Your pussy is literally like heroine, I’m fucking hooked.” he thrusts harder into you.

“Yeah! Just like that, fuck me Taehyung… Please fuck me!” you're a mess at this point, he’s completely ruined you.

And just like you asked, he gave you exactly what you were asking for, fucking into you like he was gonna die if he didn’t make you cum again. He enjoyed knowing he made you feel so good, he thrived on it. “Gonna cum…”

“In me.. C-cum in me.” you stutter out, “oh fuck. Oh fuck!”

You cum around him, squeezing him like a vice grip, and he follows suit. You can feel him filling you up, it almost makes you cum again. You loved the warmth of it, but you loved him fucking it out of you even more. Reveled in the feeling of it running down your pussy and thighs. 

When he was done, he collapsed next to you on the bed. Trying but failing to catch his breath. “Can we do it like that again later? That was sexy.” you hum in compliance, the feeling of sleep creeping its way through your veins. And like the gentleman he is, he gets up to get something to clean you up with. 

He returns with a cloth, the coolness stinging your heated skin, but he’s gentle when he reaches your vulva, making sure not to rub your clit too hard but just enough to rid you of the cum that is now starting to dry. “Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.” he squeaks out.

“I love you,” you say sleepily as he gets you into some pajama shorts. “So much.” 

“I love you too, baby girl.” he kisses your temple before leaving for the bathroom. Before you fall asleep, you hear the shower run. You smile in contentment. You could get used to having Taehyung around. You know now for sure that you won’t mind all the stares and gossip as long as he's by your side. You could make it through the day knowing you get to come home to a man who really loved you. So what? You found genuine happiness in your husband's brother; stranger things have happened. This was your grey area. This was the way life was meant to be, how it was supposed to be. You’re ready to move on as long as it’s with him. 

© @cumsuga 2016-2024. All rights reserved. — Unauthorized use or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating, and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. DO NOT USE MY CONTENT FOR ANY AI PURPOSES WHAT SO EVER

credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers

[to-boldly-nope]

Like Crazy (Peck!Spock x Reader)

Plot: just...angsty pining

Words: 566

Warnings: drinking, brief mentions of making out (so slight nsfw), angst, self-angst(?)

A/N: Hey!!! First of all, if you've read that one post about the reason why I stopped writing, I'm here to say everything is still OK between me and my fiance and we plan on getting married in October! Second, it's been a while, like I don't know how long, maybe 2 years? Maybe 3? How's it going! And third, my dad started watching Strange New Worlds and holy shit Ethan Peck is...woah...(in a good way..obv)

Another A/N: If yall see me posting a lot just message me and tell me to get back to my school work because I'm a master procrastinator.

You sit at the bar on the ship, watching as the people party and drink and you do too, well, you drink. You watch as Christine flirt with Spock for the umpteenth time tonight, he looks bored as he makes eye contact with you from across the room. Was he actually uninterested or did he just look like that? You take another shot. 

You see Spock walk up to you and you grimace softly. “Too much Christine?” 

“Indeed,” he simply said. I try to sit up, but I sway softly. Was the ship unbalanced or were you drunk? You couldn’t even tell until Spock’s hands steadied you. His face was blank, but his eyes were concerned. “You’re intoxicated.” 

“I’m not. Why do you care?” 

“You are a valued member of this crew,” he said, his voice deep like always and it sent shivers down your spine. This wasn’t even right. Spock shouldn’t be caught in the middle of whatever was going on. Between you and Christine pining after him, trying to win his affection. You swore that there was something there for you in his eyes. He always had a softer look, a softer voice, a softer touch. You don’t want this to end, but if you kept on being a coward then Christine would win him over first. 

“Right,” you say with an eye roll. 

“I mean it, (Y/N),” he whispered and the shiver returned again. 

~

You don’t remember when you made it into the science lab with Spock. Maybe it was adrenaline or maybe you were drunk, but those thoughts went away as Spock pressed you against the table. 

“Don’t wake me,” you mumbled against his lips. 

“What was that?” Spock asked while pulling away. 

You just shake your head. You were scared of that one wrong thing and you’d wake up from this dream. You’d wake up and Spock would realize that you didn’t deserve any of this and he should be with someone like Christine and not some tough security officer. Someone who matches his intellect and can have conversations and requires logic and not force, but you could do that too. What’s the difference between you and her anyway? You can be logical and intellectual too. You seem to be viewing yourself from outside of your body, like a reflection. You see yourself wrap your legs around his waist as he easily lifts you up on the table, making some of the glasses fall to the floor and shatter. 

You’re afraid that everything will disappear. Maybe he’s just here to help numb the pain, the pining. Maybe he made his choice and decided that he wanted you and not Christine, she was leaving for the Fellowship after all. Maybe this wasn’t a dream after all. 

You let him lean into you, placing kisses against your neck, one of his hands holding your thigh and the other resting on your lower back, holding you up, making sure you don’t touch any of the broken glass. Your hands go towards his uniform shirt, grasping it.

~

You wake up in your bed, the skin on your neck tingling softly from where you dreamed of the kisses and the bites. You take a minute to ground yourself, making sure that you are awake and aware, your fingers slowly touching the tingling skin. 

“Alone again,” you hissed to yourself, wiping away tears, “what’s the point?” 

[mybiasisexo]

can i request 27 & 53 for the drabble withhhhh baekhyun? idk if i’m able to ask if it can lean towards an enemy/frenemies to lovers type trope but if not, it’s alright it’s up to your creativity and writing! i’m grateful for you and this writing, hope everything goes well for you, and thank you so much!

Effort 🤛

Genre: angst | arranged marriage!au | ceo!bbh | nonidol!au Pairing: Baekhyun x f.Reader Length: 1.4k Warnings: language

a/n: bro.... im only like half way done with these drabbles yall 😭. a lot of them are written its just getting them out now so yay for that! this is why i dont do these things. next time i know forsure to only accept like 10. thank you for the request! Sorry for taking so long 😭 but by this point yall should know the drill lmfaoooo 💖

DRABBLE GAME | MASTERLIST

You march into your condo in search for the other person that lives there.

You find him in the kitchen, sitting at the massive island, cradling a glass of whiskey.

On a mission, you make your way over to him and slam your hand on the marble top, demanding his attention.

Baekhyun jumps at the sound, turning to you with blurry eyes.

“Did you get into a fight?” You ask in annoyance.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs a laugh before taking a sip of his hard drink. “Hello to you too, Wife.”

Narrowing your eyes, you fight the warmth in your chest at the title. Wife. It’s been almost a year and you still haven’t fully come to terms with your newfound role.

“I heard what happened,” you inform him. You catch the stiffening of his shoulders and him muttering something about word traveling fast.

“If you already heard, why're you asking?”

“Because I need you to confirm it, and I need to know why.”

Baekhyun gulps, staring blankly ahead. “Mr. Lee. He was saying some very disgusting and vulgar things about you.”

That isn’t shocking. You are an heiress who spent majority of your youth causing chaos for your family. You were a wild child, spending most of your time partying for the tabloids to see. You had known the life you were going to be subjected to, so decided to live freely while you still could. Unfortunately, it earned you the reputation of being a drunk slut that followed you throughout the years. Despite getting your shit together, taking over your family business, and pushing it to bigger levels. Despite going as far as getting married, people still saw you as that reckless little girl. Many people within your company undermined your authority because of that, but it never swayed you. If anything, it only encouraged you more. You loved proving people wrong. Hearing someone as creepy as Mr. Lee was making lewd comments about you was unfortunately unsurprising.

What is surprising is your husband’s reaction.

In any other setting, a husband defending his wife’s honor is a normal act of love. That’s what they do, support and defend their spouse. But your marriage is a tad different due to the fact Baekhyun didn’t marry you out of love.

Actually, neither one of you had any say in this little arrangement. This union was only possible from the agreement of your parents.

You aren’t exactly happy about the situation, but you understand your position. That’s why you accepted the proposal without complaint. Baekhyun, on the other hand, was severely against the marriage and threatened everyone involved. Allegedly, he already had someone that he cherished around that time. You even had the pleasure of meeting her—at your own wedding, no less—and she was amazing. You totally understood why Baekhyun was angry. Still, he followed through with the arrangement, and here you are now, arguing in your shared apartment.

It isn’t the first time, nor the last you’re sure. You want to at least try to make this relationship work, but Baekhyun makes it impossible. He takes all his frustrations of your predicament out on you with cruel words and cold shoulders. He’s constantly reminding you how much he loathes you, like it was your idea to get married. As hard as you try to brush it off, it hurts. You were forced into this marriage too! You wanted the fairytale ending just as badly as everyone else in the world, but that simply wasn’t your reality. So, you make the best out of a shitty situation. Still, it feels extremely unfair for him to treat you like desperate trash just because he can’t outwardly express his pain and fury to his parents.

“And?” You reply. “Wouldn’t be the first time? They said he got a black eye and a bloody nose. He’s threatening to press charges. The board is contemplating your suspension.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t answer. Only takes another swig of his liquor.

“Baekhyun.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “It’s unlike you to react like this. I’m sorry that being tied to me is tarnishing your reputation. I know my parents promised that it wouldn’t, but it appears it is.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that,” he seethes. “It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact he was disrespecting my wife!”

He finally turns and gives you his attention. The fury he still feels over the situation radiates off of him in a heat so hot you’re surprised his clothes haven’t lit on fire. Your first instinct is to step away, not wanting to be his next victim. But, you stand firm, feigning courage.

“And I’d do it again,” he admits. “I’ll beat up anyone that talks about you like you’re some kind of whore they can pass around.”

“Why?” You ask in a whisper. “You hate me.”

He sighs. “I don’t hate you. I never have. I hate the situation we’re in. I hate that we didn’t mean it when we said ‘I do’.”

He lets go of his glass to take your hands in his. “But I don’t hate you. And I don’t blame you. I know I’ve been the worst husband ever, but these past few months I….”

He nibbles on his bottom lip and you blink back tears. “I’ve also said some hurtful things, and to your face. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for that. You’ve been trying, and it’s been working. I’ve realized now how much of an idiot I’ve been. We can make an opportunity out of this. We’re married now, and it’s time that I started acting like it.”

You give him a smile full of relief. “What’s changed?”

“It’s been little things, but the biggest change was at the merger last month.”

Oh. You didn’t think he remembered.

It was your first real public appearance together, so you had to chum it up for the cameras. You were the new It Couple, both the children of two of the most successful businesses in the country. You were tech royalty, and the merging of your families was like two warring nations signing a peace treaty. That night showed you a tender side of Baekhyun you’d never been exposed to, and you couldn’t help but to fall for this person. You knew that none of it was real, but he was just so kind and flirty and when he kissed you it sparked something from deep within. Baekhyun must had felt it as well, because the moment you were back home, you were all over each other. The both of you had been drinking, so that may have played a role on your eagerness. You convinced yourself you weren’t that drunk, and that he was your husband. This was what married couples did. When you were in the bed, Baekhyun pulled away for just a couple seconds to grab a condom and came back to you passed out. It was a reality check for him, and he panicked as the realization of what you were about to do dawned on him. Once the panic dimmed, he was relieved, knowing that your dynamic was already messed up as it was, sex would just make things worse. You woke up the next morning in an empty bed, fully clothed, and Baekhyun never brought it up.

Now that you think of it, Baekhyun has changed since. He has been a lot less hostile, and has been coming come early enough to share dinner with you. During your meals, he made a point to have conversation with you, and you’ve felt like there has been progress between you.

“Truth is,” he says quietly. “Ever since that night, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. I don’t deserve you, but I want you anyway.”

“You want me?” You ask.

“I do,” he admits. He pulls you closer to stand between his legs and lets go of your hands to hold you by your hips. “I want to make us work. I want to know everything about you. What makes you laugh, what makes you happy, what your favorite food is, what turns you on.” He smiles suggestively and you shove his shoulder playfully. “I want to know you. I want to protect you. I want to be your husband.”

You blink back the flood of tears that blur your vision so that you can see him. “I want that too, Baekhyun. I want us to try.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth before daring a kiss to your lips, which you reciprocate. When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

“Then let’s try.”

[taelme]

treacherous

genre: regency!au (with some tweaks ofc), kind of secret romance, painter!johnny, marquess!johnny (mild angst, a lot of fluff im telling yall this was self-indulgent)  pairing/s: Johnny / Reader (ft Jaehyun and oc (reader’s sister)) word count: 26k+ (love language strikes again)  tw: brief mentions of a parent’s death, mentions of food, reader has a tense relationship with her mom? mentions of religious imagery  summary: in your search for love in a material world, you find the acquaintance of a poor painter and discover what it means to feel safe to trust, to be vulnerable, to love—and everything in between a/n: very self indulgent!! (this technically can be read as a standalone but reading enchanted before this can help with context!) was definitely zoning out during my lessons thinking about this johnny.... can yall tell im in love? may have died many times writing this ... definitely was difficult to edit because i was giggling throughout as though i wasn’t the one who wrote it. themed on treacherous but i’d love to hear if you found any other tswift song easter eggs inside!! happy reading  read on ao3

There were many rules any supposed self-respecting or ‘well-bred’ gentleman and lady had to abide by in the world you lived in—rules that ensured the protection of a culture, that shaped character, that cultivated virtue. You were very well-versed in such rules, having been fed every conduct manual your mother could get her hands on from the time you were able to read. 

You would internalise all that you’d read, taking the words seriously and living by the advice given, moulding yourself into a daughter who was perfect as and when you were judged by the book. Perhaps that was what your mother hoped, that her daughter would agree to being mothered by conduct books. 

Of course, that wasn’t quite the case. You read them, surely, but whether you lived by them was an entirely different matter. 

The first thing to note, a lady like you was expected to wait to be introduced to a gentleman, and never introduce herself.

“Would you stop fidgeting? How impossible is it for you to just sit still for a moment?” your mother clicked her tongue in distaste, her voice soft enough only for you to hear, but her tone no less cutting. 

You glanced at her blankly, shifting in your seat once again before turning your gaze back to the field before you, the crowd of people around you waiting for the races to start. Frankly, the appeal of a race for you lay in watching the horses, how gracefully and strongly they galloped, oblivious to the money being placed behind their speed. 

But you knew why you were here, it was hard for you to forget. 

“It’ll be nothing short of a miracle if anyone finds you desirable with your horrible manners to show for yourself,” she huffed, turning to your father who was sitting beside her for some sort of support, only growing more annoyed when she saw that he was otherwise unbothered by your fidgeting. 

“Spare her, she’s still new to all of this,” he murmured. 

“Her sister wasn’t like this when she first debuted,” your mother retorted, earning a sigh from your father.

Your sister, who was now away on her honeymoon with the viscount she married. As much as you were happy for her, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the support she gave you, especially during times like these where it seemed you would be caught in the crossfire of your mother and father’s disagreements. 

“Are they not both ladies? You have to stop treating her like she’s still a child,” your mother murmured harshly, making you shift in your seat uncomfortably, “the sooner you do that, the easier this whole process will be for all of us.” 

Now, you couldn’t hide behind the fact that you were young. You were out in society, expected to be looking for a marriage partner, but you still found yourself feeling intimidated by the number of people here knowing that they weren’t looking at you as anyone other than a lady to be married off. 

Thankfully enough, you spotted a familiar face (or they spotted you), your gaze landing on a family friend, a bachelor named Taeyong under the tentage next to the spectator stand. 

“I’m… going to say hello to Taeyong.” 

Your mother hadn’t acknowledged you with anything but a huff, so you took that as a greenlight to leave, straightening your posture in an attempt to make it seem as though you weren’t completely intimidated by the crowd of men you were practically walking into. 

Nodding your head at Taeyong in greeting when he met your gaze, he flashed you a smile. 

“My lady,” he bowed with extra dramatics, earning a grimace from you, “it feels oddly refreshing to be seeing you in a place like this.” 

“How so?” your eyebrows lifted, gaze flickering briefly to notice the man standing next to him, taller than Taeyong and much taller than you, giving him a small nod in acknowledgement. 

You knew it was more socially acceptable for you to focus on conversing with Taeyong and not acknowledging the man, since it would have been an obvious fact that he and Taeyong were of different social standings. The man’s dressing was that of a typical man of the working class, compared to Taeyong’s more expensive fabrics, with special tailored tailcoats and frills in his shirt. In spite of this fact, you couldn’t help your gaze from wandering over to the man even as you spoke with Taeyong, something about the way he carried himself making him seem as though he was the one of power between the two of them. 

It was a confidence and sureness that you weren’t used to seeing, different from the air with which the viscount Jung Jaehyun carried himself. For the viscount, there was always an air of tension in his slightly aloof demeanour. The man standing next to Taeyong now didn’t seem tense, instead, he possessed a calm confidence. You weren’t sure why it intimidated you more. 

“I’m more accustomed to seeing you in your home,” Taeyong huffed, “I guess this means it’s your first season?” 

You nodded, glancing again at the man next to Taeyong, who wore a curious expression on his face, observing you as you spoke with Taeyong. 

“And my last, if I'm fortunate enough,” you joked, even if you didn’t mean it. 

You glanced briefly again at the man standing next to Taeyong, averting your gaze when you met his confident stare, Taeyong’s huff of laughter distracting you just briefly. 

“I’m sure the season will be forgiving to you, you’ve always had a rather sweet disposition,” he assured you, eyebrows lifting as he shifted his body just slightly to gesture to the man next to him. 

“Oh, right. May I introduce you to a friend of mine who just moved into the town? He’s a painter, a very talented one at that. Miss Y/N this is Mr Suh. Mr Suh, this is my family friend, Miss Y/N.” 

The man gave you a polite bow, “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said with a polite smile. 

Your head tilted in surprise, not having expected the lilting voice to have come from a man whose presence was anything but gentle. 

Taeyong glanced between you and Mr Suh, momentarily distracted when he was approached by a man who had greeted him loudly, immediately rattling off into a discussion on the horse race. 

Almost about to leave to find your way to the lemonade, you heard the lilting voice again. 

“Who are you betting on?” he asked nonchalantly, and with the way he looked ahead as he talked, it would have seemed as though he wasn’t talking to you from the outside. You wondered whether it was intentional. 

“Me?” you asked, turning to look up at the man’s face, seeing him tear his gaze away from the horses to look at you, a soft smile gracing his features as he did. 

He nodded. 

“Am I supposed to be betting on one?” you asked in spite of everything you knew and read from the conduct manuals. You didn’t need Mr Suh to tell you to know that you weren’t supposed to be betting on anything, regardless. 

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted, taking his lower lip between his teeth before letting it go, “Well,” he began, “I suppose you shouldn’t. But the stakes are what make it more entertaining, aren’t they?” 

You scrunch your nose up in disagreement, shaking your head. 

“I would beg to differ. Sometimes things are best enjoyed without too many expectations.” 

Mr Suh hummed, clasping his hands behind his back, the stance somehow making him seem even more confident, you could almost imagine him dressed in formal wear attending one of the balls your sister spoke of the previous season. A man like him would be hard to miss in a crowd. 

“What makes you say that?”

You shrugged, your gaze flickering over the way the sunlight was shining on him through the little holes in the tent above the both of you, casting a pretty glow on where it touched his hair, his skin, his hazel eyes that held the mischief of a cheshire cat to them. 

“I suppose when you leave less room for expectation, you also leave less room for disappointment,” you hummed, watching in borderline awe as he let out a huff of laughter. 

“Not that I don’t agree with you, because trust me, I do. But humour me, pick one and we’ll see who wins,” he offered smoothly, with the same confidence that made you feel as though he were drawing you in, as if his simple proposition was enough to spark your desire for some excitement in what you otherwise assumed was going to be a boring day. 

“And if you win? What happens then?” you asked, earning a thoughtful hum from Mr Suh, lips pursing in thought as if he hadn’t already thought of what he wanted. 

Mr Suh’s lips parted, as if having reached a moment of realisation, “You’ll grant me the honour of getting you a glass of lemonade.” 

“And if I win?” 

Mr Suh grinned, “Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” 

You hummed, “Alright then. I pick number two.” 

And you watched, as the race began, as Mr Suh watched with a serious gaze as the horse you chose had run neck in neck with his, the way number two had begun to pick up speed halfway and you knew you would prevail as the winner by a landslide. Funnily enough, Mr Suh didn’t feel the slightest bit bitter about losing, curious as to what you had in mind for your reward. 

It was amusing to you, to see the way the many people standing in the tent had either gushed out yells of excitement or frustration as the race ended, Mr Suh’s expression looking still as calm and confident as he turned to face you. 

“Have you decided what you wanted?” he asked, “I’ll still get you a glass of lemonade, since it’s a hot day after all.” 

You followed next to him as he walked towards where the staff were serving refreshments, paying for a single glass of lemonade and handing it to you, an expectant look on his face as he awaited your reply. 

“You said you were a painter, is that correct?” you began, earning a tilt of the head from him, wondering where you were going with this. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Could I pay a visit to your studio one day? You know, to see some of your paintings?” 

If Mr Suh was surprised at your request (he was), he hadn’t shown it, simply looking at you with the same curiosity in his gaze, giving you a nod. 

“You’re more than welcome to come by. I’m located near the flower shop by the market, the old space that used to belong to the… the wine merchant,” he told you, and with how much you frequented the market, you instantly knew the space he was referring to, already mapping out a route in your head that would allow you to visit his studio after you ran your errands on Monday. 

Somehow, you couldn’t get used to the way he held your gaze, something about it making you feel as though you were frozen in your spot, unable to look elsewhere yet feeling as though you were too shy to return the same attention to him. 

“I’d better be going now, wouldn’t want to worry my mother,” you fumbled out an excuse in your flustered state, giving him a nod before you’d left promptly, sipping on your lemonade in an attempt to cool the warmth in your face and neck. 

===

Another thing worth noting, is that a lady like you is often placed in a very delicate situation. You may be distinguished by a kind of calculated attention to gain your affections, while it is impossible to know whether this attention will end in a serious declaration. 

You didn’t manage to visit him once the week started, busy with your own errands that occupied your first few days of the week. 

The next time you saw Mr Suh, it almost seemed like you were being guided towards each other. It was an odd moment on that Wednesday morning, something compelling you to look up from the yellow sunflowers you were talking to the old woman running the store about, turning your head to the right even though you weren’t quite looking for anything, your gaze coming to land on the man that you were almost hoping you would chance upon while in the area. 

Seeing the way his eyebrows lifted in recognition, you gave him a small nod to signal that you were acquainted with him, a smile gracing his features as he stood before you. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he remarked, earning a strangely shy smile from you, surprising yourself at the way you reacted towards him. 

You hummed, “I’m here often, actually,” you admitted, your gaze flickering briefly to the sunflowers you were looking at before, your finger touching one of the soft petals absently. 

“Is that so? Do you like flowers?” 

You shrugged, “... the simple answer would be yes.” 

Mr Suh surprised you with the way he’d gasped lightly, eyes widening with a hint of exaggerated dramatics, his hands in his pockets as he leaned over slightly, “Well, now that you’ve said it like that, you’ve gotten me curious about what the complex answer would be.” 

You weren’t sure what came over you, or what was compelling you to go against your mother’s wishes of not entertaining men who weren’t those you danced with at balls. 

Perhaps it was the way he conversed with you so smoothly, or the confident way he held himself, or even the way it seemed as though there was something inexplicable drawing you in through his gaze, telling you there was more to him than he was letting on. As if it would only  continue to nag at your curiosity if you didn’t explore it. 

“It is an answer I would easily offer to you if we were in a more conducive space,” you huffed in amusement, gesturing around to the various other market stalls, the grocers and the merchants yelling and ringing their bells as they bartered off their products. 

Mr Suh felt it too, the strangest feeling in his gut that made him feel as though he were being prompted to get to know you more. As he looked at you now, in the silence of the flower shop with the old woman giving him a knowing look, he couldn’t deny that he was curious about your intentions, about what you could possibly be thinking by being so willing to acquaint yourself with a poor painter like him. It was oddly refreshing, and he could safely say you were the first lady to still treat him with such attention and respect after coming to know his social standing. 

“Would you like to claim your reward now, then? I was just about to head back to my studio, we could have some tea before you head back?” 

You frowned, knowing very well that as much as you would like that, you couldn’t very well do that now. 

At the sight of your frown, Mr Suh sucked in a sharp breath, “Poor timing?” 

Pressing your lips into a firm line, you nodded, “Unfortunately. I have to be at the church, I was supposed to get the new flower arrangements done for the altar and all…” 

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted, nodding in understanding, it seemed there was even more he was curious about you now. 

“Will you be playing the organ for the mass today too, dear?” the old woman asked, earning a hum from Mr Suh when you gave an affirmative nod. 

“You know how to play?” he asked, earning an insistent hum from the old woman. 

“ Very well , in fact,” she told him, and somehow you felt a strange sense of bashfulness under the praise of the old woman, though it wasn’t as if you were a stranger to hearing it from her. 

Somehow, the fact that you were in the presence of Mr Suh as you heard it reminded you of the feeling you got when you were younger and your parents were entertaining guests, insisting that you play a piece for them. The feeling of all their eyes on you that filled you with the want to run off into your room, the only time you’d relaxed slightly was when you would centre your focus on the piano, the music being the distraction from their gazes on you. 

The way Mr Suh looked at you, his curious gaze, somehow filled you with this sort of almost-panic, a panic that came with being so focused on, a sudden feeling of being exposed. 

You didn’t have to worry about this with your family, knowing they were all focused on their own worries to pay such delicate attention to your affairs. Mr Suh, however, his gaze was intense, though it did not seem to possess the same intention to nit-pick like your mother, or the insistence of your father’s, or distraction of your sister’s. His could only be described as unadulterated curiosity . 

“I’d love to hear it one day,” his lips curled into a small smile, “perhaps you could grant me the honour of hearing you play while I complete a commission at my studio.” 

You huffed. Somehow the prospect of being able to be involved in the creation of art in such a way enticed you, and it left you feeling excited for the day to come. 

“I would like that,” you told him, turning to the old woman and giving her a small nod to signal that you would like to take the flowers you ordered now. 

“Would you like to take the ones for home now?” she asked, earning a shake of the head from you. 

“No, thank you. I’ll come by later to collect those,” you told her with a smile, turning to Mr Suh and giving a small bow. 

“I should be heading off now.” 

Mr Suh huffed in amusement, “That sounds familiar,” there was a hint of mischief in his tone that made your lips part, a small scoff leaving you. 

“Are you teasing me?” you couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped you, earning a smile from him. 

“I mean no menace,” he continued, shaking his head, “I should be off as well…” 

He let out a small sigh, the soft smile lingering on his features, “It was nice to see you here.” 

You huffed, wanting to say more, but settling for a simple nod. 

“When would be a good time for me to come by?” you decided to ask, earning a shrug from him. 

“Whenever it suits you, I’m usually in the studio by the afternoon,” he spoke, earning a tilt of the head from you, prompting him to continue, “okay, how does Friday afternoon sound?” 

You nodded, “Perfect.” 

Bidding him goodbye, your breath hitched at the way his tone had lilted with the same calm confidence as he addressed you, your brain replayed the way he’d addressed you, wondering how his voice could make your name (something you figured you would have been so used to after all your years of living), sound as though it were being spoken to you for the first time. 

You turned and left before you could tempt yourself to stay longer and forget about the flowers in your arms waiting to be displayed, though even the sunflowers seemed to twirl around to face him. 

The giddiness fluttering within you remained as you sat by the stone bench preparing the flowers, the sound of the gentle flowing water of the fountain you were sitting beside somehow reminding you to still your heart, lest you get too carried away with the excitement you felt from your interactions with Mr Suh. 

As you fixed the placement of one of the sunflowers, you let your gaze wander to the elderly woman who was a few benches away from you shaded underneath a large tree, looking at the arrangement of flowers you’d placed at the foot of one of the statues.

Observing her expression as she gazed at the flowers, you wondered what she was thinking about, what she was here for, perhaps even what she was praying for. You knew you weren’t a stranger to it even as you observed her, you had been here many times; out of desperation, out of boredom, out of joy, out of hopelessness. 

You liked the freedom that came with being here, how you could essentially stay undisturbed due to the unspoken understanding that those who came here sought out that same solace and peace you did.

It was more of an escape at first, from the confines of your house and the myriad of books waiting to be read and re-read again. You weren’t sure when it started becoming a place you wished to return to willingly, like an escape you sought out because it became less of an escape and more of a shelter. 

There was vulnerability and protection you found in being alone, in the thought that even if no one was being attentive to you, maybe a higher power was. This thought always pulled you into deeper reflection, it made you struggle with how comfortable and uncomfortable you were in this vulnerability. How perhaps you were comfortable with it because it wasn’t exactly tangible, yet how uncomfortable you felt with it because you knew that this desire for vulnerability, to be seen, known and loved in such a way was something that resonated deep within your soul, and perhaps it was never tangible to begin with. 

Done with the main arrangement meant to be the centrepiece at the altar, you got up, dusting off your dress. Picking up the basket, you made your way down the aisle of the church till you were at the altar, placing the basket delicately onto the marbled floor before something compelled you to take a seat there on the floor of the aisle, looking up at nothing in particular. 

“Do you recognise the painting?” 

You turned your head in the direction of the sound, seeing the priest walking over to you from your left, earning a hum of confusion from you. 

Gesturing above you to the direction you were staring in previously, he gave you a small smile, “You were staring at it, were you not?” 

Turning your head to fix your gaze on the painting, you saw that it was a painting of a raging sea, a boat in the background with many people on it, but a man, and another who you assumed was the Lord on the water, the man looking desperate as he clung on to his saviour. Yet somehow, the way his saviour held him, you could sense the safety, the security present in his hold. 

“Do you recall? That man, Peter, walked out onto the water when the Lord called him.” 

You frowned, nothing about it made any logical sense, to put yourself in such a position of vulnerability, subject to drowning, subject to the harsh currents of the waves willingly . 

“Why did he do that?” was all you could ask, reminded again of this vulnerability, and whether as you looked at this painting, you could see how there was protection in this vulnerability like you had felt before. 

The priest could only huff in amusement, a deep sigh leaving him. 

“Would you like the simple answer?” he asked, earning a sheepish smile from you. 

“Would it be wrong of me to say yes?” 

Shaking his head, the priest turned his gaze back to the painting, “Love.” 

He did it for love?  

Perhaps the answer you wanted really wasn’t for something tangible to begin with, you figured, because you felt his words resonate in your heart. 

How willing were you to be vulnerable? And what were you willing to be vulnerable for? 

“That sounds more like the complex answer,” you huffed, your hands fiddling with the fabric of your dress, picking off leaves that had stuck onto your dress while you made the flower arrangements.

Your words had only earned a laugh from the priest, the elderly man giving you a shrug. 

“I suppose simple doesn’t mean simplistic.” 

Sighing, you nodded, knowing you would be left pondering his words for the next God knows how long . And it was true, even as you played the organ for the mass that day, as you left the church grounds to make your way back to the flower market.

Even as you were greeted by a bouquet of hibiscus flowers the old woman said Mr Suh had left for you, the thought continued to stir your heart. His simple bouquet, which sparked a far-from-simplistic longing in your heart. 

Were you willing to be vulnerable for something like love? 

Perhaps only time would tell. 

=== 

The third rule, a lady like you was not to engage in any activity that could give rise to gossip. A young, unmarried lady like you was never to be alone in the company of a gentleman outside of family and close family friends. Other than during a walk to church or to a park in the morning, a lady like you was not to even so much as walk outside without an appropriate companion.  

“Where are you off to so early, Miss?” Your lady’s maid had asked in a hushed whisper, passing you the little biscuits you asked for her to help you retrieve from the kitchen without your mother noticing. 

“To church,” you smiled, earning a surprised hum from her. 

“I suppose this is the message you would like for me to relay if anyone were to ask for your whereabouts?” her tone was knowing, a hint of a smile playing at her lips as she handed you the makeshift bag she made using the cloth used to wrap your biscuits. 

You smiled, nodding at her as you let out an exaggerated wistful sigh, “I cannot express how thankful I am to have you here. You’re an absolute breath of fresh air in this house.” 

She huffed in amusement, shaking her head at you, glancing around the kitchen before lowering her voice to a mere murmur, “Will you be back late?” 

You shook your head.

“I’ll be back in time for tea, I’m going to visit a painter.” 

She gasped, a deadpan tone to her joking as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, “Need I get the chemicals ready to soak your dress when you return?” 

You rolled your eyes in good-nature, a giggle leaving you in your embarrassment. 

“I won’t make a mess of myself this time, I promise,” touching her arm, you told her with as serious a look as you could muster, earning a deep sigh from her. 

You supposed it was warranted, she’d known you since you were a baby, it was only right that she’d grown accustomed to your rather clumsy nature. 

“I’d rather you not make promises you can’t keep, Miss.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise ,” you grinned, fighting your laughter as you saw her expression dripping with scepticism. 

“I do miss your sister dearly, she was never one to keep me on my toes like you do. I’m always fighting for breath these days when I talk to the madam,” she let out a wistful sigh.  

You huffed, already beginning to walk out of the kitchen, “Don’t miss me too much when I’m gone,” you waved, practically brisk walking out of your house and beginning on the route you had planned in your head since the day of the races. 

Saying you were going to church wasn’t a complete lie. And it was important to note this, because you weren’t a very good liar to begin with, so details like these helped. 

Walking into the church grounds, you’d initially planned on just walking through it as a shortcut to the market, but you couldn’t deny the little anxiousness within your heart that came with your excitement. Frankly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting from your meeting with Mr Suh later, though you knew there was a need to maintain a level of secrecy about it.

Perhaps it was the guilt from this secrecy that compelled you to make a little detour, sitting on the same bench you saw the elderly woman sitting at the other day. 

Only when you were sitting in the same position as she was, you realised how different it felt to be sitting right in front of the little grotto. It felt much more like you were up-front instead of still having the pseudo-security of being a little further from the little altar. 

Somehow, you found yourself listing out in your head the various things you’d planned on doing today, imagining (and perhaps hoping as well) that while you went about these things, this higher power would be watching over you, protecting you as you went about your day. The thought served to comfort you, and you found yourself feeling a little less nervous about seeing Mr Suh. 

You wouldn’t have known that Mr Suh was equally if not more nervous than you were, finding himself agonising over which flowers he wished to gift you when you were to arrive. 

The way the old woman mending the store was looking at him wasn’t helping much either, with her knowing looks and watchful gaze as she observed the flowers he leaned towards. 

“Are you planning on getting them for Miss Y/N?” the woman finally asked after she seemed to have enough of his indecision.

Mr Suh nodded, “I was wondering if you could advise me on the meanings of the flowers?” he asked, earning a smile from the woman. 

“My dear, there are far too many flowers here for me to advise you on all of them now. Perhaps you could tell me what you wish to convey, and I could help you pick the right flowers accordingly?” 

Mr Suh hummed thoughtfully. He didn’t want something too forward, or something that would make you wonder what the special occasion was. At this point, all that was coming to mind was the image of your smile that he wished to have the honour of witnessing again. She does have a lovely smile. 

“Yellow tulips, then!” the woman offered gleefully, making Mr Suh’s eyes widen. He was glad Jaehyun wasn’t here, he didn’t think he would be able to recover from his slip-up so easily if that was the case. 

And so yellow tulips were what you were greeted with when you’d arrived at the studio, barely shutting the door behind you before you were greeted by the bright yellow that you found eliciting a smile from you without even noticing. 

“Are these for me?” you asked, the nod he gave you making you stretch your fingers in your gloves before you accepted the flowers from him, noticing the lack of gloves on his hands. 

“They couldn’t possibly be for me, I don’t think my smile is worthy of being compared to sunshine.” 

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, feeling warmth travel to your face and neck as you averted your gaze. 

“I’m… flattered to know you think mine is.” 

That seemed to elicit a smile from him, rivalling his words from before with the way he was beaming at you, a little giggle leaving him.

“You can set them aside here in the meantime, I was just in the middle of working on a small piece,” he told you, taking the flowers from you to set them in a makeshift vase. A little cup with dried paint on its mouth and exterior filled with clear water. 

“What of?” you glanced at the canvas on the easel in front of a tall stool, not being able to distinguish the markings on the canvas, seeming to be in its early stages of creation. 

Waiting for his reply, you took the opportunity to look around the studio. It was cleaner than you expected it to be, with how it was left unoccupied by the previous landlord for as long as you could remember. 

You noticed the carpets over various parts of the floor, the patterns resembling the ones you had at home. There were various tables around the room, used more for temporary storage than for display, housing various sketches on loose pieces of paper and card. Even so, the sketches were of various landscapes and nature. 

There were no statues here, contrary to what you expected, mainly bowls of fruits and flowers that you assumed were for still-life paintings or sketches. It wasn’t furnished anything like you imagined a typical painter’s studio to look like. You’d expected more statues of human figures, more artwork of people or portraits. The most life you detected in the room other than him and the bowls of fruits and flowers was the piano sitting at the side of the room. 

He stood in front of a tall easel that rested on a large cloth over the carpet to catch any mess that could ruin the rug. Next to the easel, there was a small table with his palette, and a little glass jar he used for water, a set of what you identified as watercolours next to the jar. 

“Your expression is making me curious. Penny for your thoughts?” 

You hummed, shaking your head when you decided against voicing out your thoughts. You wouldn’t want to risk offending him. 

Mr Suh seemed undeterred, simply tilting his head at you curiously, “What seems to be stopping you from telling me?” 

Daring yourself to glance at him in surprise at his forwardness, you shook your head, “No, no, I just… I don't want to speak out of turn.” 

Expecting him to simply nod and move on to another topic, you were even more surprised when he huffed in amusement, dismissing your worries with his gentle gaze. 

“I can assure you, I won’t expect you to bear the consequences for my feelings.”

Walking over to the tall easel where he stood, you pressed your lips together and mustered whatever courage you had to be honest with your thoughts. Something about his reassurance told you it was safe to allow yourself that much in this space. 

“I was just thinking that… your studio doesn’t look like what I expected it to look like,” you began, earning a nod from him, prompting you to continue, “I expected… more… you know, life .” 

Mr Suh’s expression remained calm and confident as always, as if he’d expected you to have pointed it out at one point. 

“I understand why you may think that,” he huffed with a smile. 

“Was it intentional?” you asked, “the focus on landscapes?” 

He nodded, his gaze fixed on yours, the attentiveness he offered to you once again feeling foreign, yet somehow reassuring. 

“I don’t do portraits. And I know it sounds foolish, considering they make more money than paintings of nature and whatnot. But it’s somewhat of a… personal philosophy , I suppose.”

Sensing your confusion, he huffed in amusement, continuing, “I find there is much more life to be found in nature that we overlook. When we’re not so concerned with… you know,” you met his gaze again, the same captivating feeling rendering your attention only fixed on him, “material things.” 

You nodded, his words striking a chord with you, remembering the many conversations you had with your sister on your worries about your debut, about whether you would be accomplished enough, presentable enough, respectable enough. When the desire, that intangible desire that resonated within you remained; the want to be seen, known and loved for your soul, unaffected by money or status. 

“It’s hard to be unconcerned with that in this society,” you huffed, earning a nod from him. 

“I suppose a lady like you has no choice but to be concerned about it,” he murmured, earning a sigh from you. 

“I wish I didn’t have to be.” 

Mr Suh gave you a soft smile, “At least… you don’t have to be while you’re here.” 

You hadn’t noticed you were smiling, something about his words making a wave of relief wash over you. Like a breath of fresh air, to hear that he wasn’t expecting you to be your mother’s daughter while you were here. The little invitation behind his words was enough to make you want to laugh. You were almost wondering why you’d felt so nervous to come here just a while ago. 

Making your way to the piano, you took a seat in front of it, still failing to stifle your smile, turning to him with a nod. 

“I… I’m afraid I like that offer a little too much.” 

And so that was what the studio became for you, a place where you were free to be alone yet share in the company of another, to allow for the creation of art within the space that you came to realise held more life than you initially thought. 

There was life found in the sound of the music that filled the walls, life found in the way Mr Suh’s brush would dance over the canvas, bringing colours alive with his fluid movements, life found in the little sparks of excitement and understanding when you would glance over at each other ever so often. 

“I like that piece the most,” Mr Suh told you as you were preparing to leave, holding out the last honey biscuit to him for him to take. Pinching it between his fingers, he popped it into his mouth. 

“You do?” 

He nodded, swallowing the last of the biscuit in his mouth as he smiled, “It happens to be my favourite.” 

Something about that knowledge made you see the piece in a different light, not having expected him to choose that of all the ones you played that day. 

Something about it was almost ironic, the meaning of the piece being to cast away earthly pleasures for a greater, spiritual love. It made you think about whether the intangible desire in your heart resonated in his as well. 

Unfortunately, that little moment was cut short when Mr Suh had taken out a small pouch that jingled in an all-too-familiar way, reminding you of your father’s study. 

“What’s this?” he set the pouch in your free hands, taking the empty cloth used to hold your honey biscuits and folding it neatly for you. 

Mr Suh hummed, “Take it as… pin money. I wouldn’t have been able to complete those paintings without the beautiful music you played.” 

Before you could refuse, he shook his head, “I insist, really. If you won’t accept it for the music, accept it for the biscuits.” 

Narrowing your eyes at him, you huffed, taking the now neatly folded cloth back from him. 

“You’re not going to take it back regardless, aren’t you?” 

The grin he sent your way was enough to make your knees feel weak. 

“You’re a quick learner, Miss Y/N,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.  

Again, the feeling akin to a gentle brushstroke on canvas, unassuming, yet permanent with the way the colour stood out against the white. 

“Will I be seeing you again soon?” he dared to ask, and you found yourself almost breathless as you searched for an appropriate reply. 

“Do you wish to?” 

Mr Suh wasn’t sure what came over him either. It was akin to an inner knowing, a gut feeling, an unmistakable intuitive feeling that told him not to fight the fact that he was drawn to you, the fact that he wanted to know you more. So, he decided not to fight it, as risky as the decision felt to him. 

“I do, if you are consenting.”  

You huffed, amusement in the way the smile played at your lips, nodding at him. “Then you will see me again tomorrow.” 

It became an unspoken agreement of sorts, for you to visit him in the mornings until it was time for you to return home for tea, blaming your happiness or giddiness on a particularly blessed time of prayer, or the time you took to get back home on the time you would ‘stay back’ in the church grounds on your own. 

Though your father didn’t mind, always having excused you whenever it came to matters of religion, your mother didn’t like it. She wouldn’t hesitate to express how she felt it wasn’t necessary for you to be devoting so much of your time to going to church when you had better things to do, like brushing up on your piano playing, refining your needlework skills or reading and internalising more conduct books. 

They wouldn’t know that the real reason behind your departure from home lay behind the (now many) flowers pressed between the pages of your many conduct books. Each one attached to a special memory of Mr Suh’s bouquets he gifted to you during your visits, the arrangements handpicked by him and unlike any you’d seen or made before. 

Though it was no secret that Mr Suh enjoyed your company and conversation, there was always a little nagging in his head that would return every now and then. It was as if its purpose was to remind him of who you were in society. It would return whenever he heard gossip in the market the morning after a ball, or chatter from bachelors in a local bar. It served as a  reminder that no matter how close the both of you were getting, you were still a lady, who could be subject to such gossip and chatter if you weren’t careful. 

“You’re risking your virtue each time you come out here to see me, you are aware of that right?" He spoke, while you were engrossed in sifting through his various sketches, finding ones to display on the walls of his studio. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, holding up a sketch of a tall, sturdy-looking tree planted by the water.

"And what is virtue to you, the man who keeps inviting me here?" you hummed.

Mr Suh narrowed his eyes at you, albeit amused at your witty reply. 

"I meant without a chaperone."

You sighed, almost instinctively assuming the disposition you would when you were being nagged by your mother. 

“I think it’s a little belated for you to be telling me this,” you muttered, still distracted by his sketches, your hands reaching up over your head to see what it would look like higher up on the wall. 

“Miss Y/N,” his tone was firmer than usual, insistent for you to pay attention. 

“Hmm? How do you think this would look up here?” you thought out loud, not having noticed him getting up from his stool to walk over to you, his hand reaching out to pin the paper you were holding against the wall with apparent ease, making you come down from your tip-toes. 

Turning around, you were shocked at how close he was, your eyes widening and taking a step back. 

“Are you listening?” 

In your surprise, you sputtered out whatever made sense to you in your head. 

“Right, yes. Chaperoning.” 

This had only managed to earn a quirked eyebrow from Mr Suh, “Yes… chaperoning …” 

“You understand the need for it, don’t you?” he continued, insistence in his tone. 

You huffed, “Don’t you think we’re past that by now? My parents are too caught up with whatever their latest worry is. If anything, they're relieved I'm finding something to occupy myself with. I’d only be a nuisance if I remained at home.” 

Mr Suh relaxed his arm, grasping the sketch in his hand as he lowered his arm to his side. 

“You’re avoiding the point. How can you be so sure that you trust me?” His eyebrows furrowed, seeming as if he were in disbelief that it was possible. You didn’t understand that. 

You shook your head. 

“I’m not,” you met his gaze, his eyes that shone a beautiful hazel in the sunlit space of his studio, “that is up to you to show me who you are, and up to me to be discerning about it.” 

His gaze softened, making you feel prompted to continue. 

“I am very aware of my stand in society, if that is what you are asking. But didn’t we agree? That this would be a place where that doesn’t matter?”

Mr Suh’s expression was pensive, his lips pressed into a firm line as he searched your gaze for something unknown to him, “Forgive me, I am simply concerned for you. It would do you no good to be seen with a man like me.” 

You sighed, ducking down to take the sketch from his hand and glancing at it, the sketch of the tree planted beside the water. 

You let out a huff of amusement, “Be kinder to yourself, Mr Suh. I’m not being forced to be here. Your company has been more enjoyable than any man I have come across.”

Sensing he was taken aback by your words, you decided to change the subject. 

“You have many sketches of places I have never seen before. Were they all places you’ve visited?” you asked, using a simple glue to attach just the top of the sketch to the wall, not wanting to ruin it if you decided you wanted to take it down. 

Mr Suh cleared his throat, “Yes, they were all from my travels, or some of the places I remember visiting.” 

Humming, you picked up the other sketch you planned on displaying as well, amusing Mr Suh  (and perhaps making his heart flutter) with how seriously you regarded his sketches, even if most of them were done on a whim. 

“They seem like lovely places. What made you come here, then? I wouldn’t say this area is as lovely as what I've been seeing in your sketches.” 

Huffing, Mr Suh’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips, a relaxed nature in the way he watched you go about your movements, “My father passed. This was uh… his birthplace.” 

At that, you turned to face him, tilting your head at him as your gaze softened.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Letting out a huff of laughter that bordered on bitterness, he shook his head in dismissal, “There’s no need to be sorry. We were not that close.” 

Frowning, you let out a small sound of disagreement. 

“It’s not a crime, you know? There’s no rule that says you aren’t allowed to grieve simply because you weren’t close to him.” 

Mr Suh felt a little wave of comfort reach him at your words, comfort that he didn’t realise he needed until the words left your lips and graced his ears. It left him feeling strangely grateful. Not just for your words, but for your heart which allowed you to feel so sensitively for others. 

“Thank you,” was all he could muster, earning a soft smile from you. 

“What was your relationship like? You know, to your father?” you dared yourself to ask, sensing that it would do him some good to talk about it. 

“He was strict with me when I was growing up… actually, he was a rather quiet man, a contrast to my personality. I always found I was more similar to my mother, more… expressive,” there was a gentle smile on his features at the mention of his mother, something about it making you want to hear more. 

“I was more comfortable talking to my mother, and naturally she was more involved in my activities and whatnot while I was growing up… it’s a bit strange now that I think of it. Even while she called me her own little nicknames and terms of endearment, it felt more comfortable for me to hear that as opposed to my own name, only my father called me that. But even though that was the case, it still felt awkward hearing it from him.” 

You nodded, your attentiveness prompting him to continue. 

“I don’t regret it, though. It wasn’t as though we had a bad relationship, it just felt… a bit more formal, less playful than the one I had with my mother.” 

“That’s what matters, I suppose, that you have no regrets,” you shrugged. 

Mr Suh nodded, “That’s what I thought, as well. My duty now is just to… carry on, I suppose.” 

You nodded. 

“Awfully wise of you,” you quipped, earning a smile from him. 

“Of course, I thought you would’ve known that about me by now,” he teased, earning an eye roll from you, though there was no menace behind the gesture. 

You huffed, “I can only imagine what you were like as a child,” you murmured, your imagination getting the better of you. 

The look on his face made it seem as though he were recalling his childhood, huffing a small laugh as he shook his head, “I don’t think I’ve changed much, to be honest.” 

The honesty of your next words surprised you.

“You must’ve been the loveliest little boy, then. I’m sure of it.” 

The smile you received in return was new, tinted with bashfulness unlike the usual calm and confident exterior you were used to seeing. He averted his gaze, poorly stifling his smile before looking back at you and shaking his head. 

“You’ve got a dangerous way with words, Miss Y/N,” he sighed, though his smile lingered on his features. 

“Of course, I thought you would’ve known that about me by now,” you recalled his words, using them to tease him in the same lilting way that he did, though he was sure the effect you had on him was much worse, his laughter bubbling out of him without restraint, his hand reaching out to grab the table next to him in a poor attempt to steady himself. 

You were growing to like it, this honesty that was growing in how the both of you were showing up to each other. Honesty that wasn’t hidden behind etiquette rules or social ‘do’s and ‘don’t’s. What you and him were experiencing with each other felt authentic, unfiltered. 

Sure it may have been frowned upon, it may have been deemed risky or dangerous, but in moments like these where all you could focus on was his smile and the way it warmed your heart. Conduct books be damned, looking at him now, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

=== 

Another important thing for a lady like you to note, is that whatever your views are in marrying, you should take every possible precaution to prevent their being disappointed.

“How was yesterday’s ball?” 

You grimaced, your playing slowing down, the melody taking a more melancholic turn,  “I’d rather not talk about that.” 

“Was it that terrible?” he laughed, busy with sorting aside his tools and paints. Today was more of an ‘inventory day’, it seemed. 

You groaned, stopping your playing altogether, “Perhaps it would’ve been more bearable if you were there. Then at least I wouldn’t have to torture myself listening to countless men tell me how much they preferred a demure, quiet young lady with better birthing hips than I had.” 

Mr Suh didn’t bother trying to hide his amusement, letting his laughter bubble out freely as you tried to make your glare firm, though the more he laughed, the more it helped you find some sort of amusement in the memory. 

“I think your hips are fine,” he spoke, though the moment the words left him you could see him press his lips together firmly, a laugh threatening to spill out.

Scoffing, you couldn’t help but laugh as well, “My sister would perish if she heard you say that.” 

“Perish because I’m right? Though, I’m not so sure I could say the same about you being demure or quiet, unfortunately,” he told you knowingly, making you scoff. 

“I’d like to argue with you, but even I can’t argue with that,” you sighed, turning your body on the cushioned seat and closing the lid of the piano so you could lean against it. 

“Has there really been nobody trying to… court you?” he asked, more out of curiosity than out of an actual want for you to say that there has been. God knows he didn’t want that. 

You sighed, bringing one arm up to rest against the top of the piano, using your gloved hand to support your head as you looked at him busying himself with sorting out what he could keep and what needed to be disposed of. 

“It’s… difficult to explain. I know eligibility is one thing, background, status, wealth, the lot ,” you huffed, gesturing with your free hand as you spoke, something you were sure your mother would’ve chided you for if she was here, “but it's awfully difficult to grow attached to any of these men… they seem to have an image of me in their minds that they aren’t willing to compromise.” 

Mr Suh looked up from his paint, sensing your frustration that you were struggling to keep hidden, deciding to sit on the stool and show that he was listening, his hands finding their way to his pockets once again. 

“It’s as though I’m not allowed to be anyone else other than the perfect wife they’ve conjured up in their heads… how can you expect me to want that? To… to want to feel lonely in a conversation? To want to just constantly feel underestimated and misinterpreted . When I think of marriage, of a life with someone…” you glanced at him, averting your gaze to the floor, “I think of offering them my heart, but I don’t think of doing that to be met with money and a loveless house in return.”

You turned your head, adjusting it so you could support your head more comfortably, holding Mr Suh’s gaze as he looked at you, an understanding shared in his silence that you never appreciated more. 

You knew that within this unspoken understanding, you had to acknowledge that things were different here from how they were at the ball. Now, as you were in this space, under his gaze, you weren’t underestimated, you weren’t being ‘sheltered’ from anything deemed too much for you. Mr Suh let you be yourself here, receiving you graciously as you were, and you were starting to truly appreciate that. 

“The marriage market is truly lonelier than it seems,” he sighed. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Nothing, just… from what you tell me. Am I mistaken?” 

You huff, shaking your head, “Definitely not. I’d be better off having more stimulating conversations with a priest than any of the men I spoke to last night.” 

Mr Suh couldn’t help the laughter that escaped him at the image you put in his head, “A priest? Not even me?” 

You rolled your eyes, “That goes without saying, it’s obvious I much prefer talking to you.” 

Mr Suh couldn’t help the way his heart felt like it slowed at your words, the way it felt like he was finally taking a deep breath after a while of not breathing. It was refreshing, seeing someone so honest and unashamed of their feelings and thoughts like you were. He found he had come to like that about you. Very much. 

“Speaking of priests, do you really go to church in the mornings? Or is that just limited to an excuse you use to sneak off here,” he gave you a teasing smile, making you huff, shaking your head at him. 

“I do, sometimes.” 

“For the flower arrangements?” he asked, recalling the time you had met at the flower market. 

Shaking your head, “Not just for that. But that wasn’t how it started.” 

Mr Suh hummed, his eyebrows lifting as he prompted you to continue. 

“It’s… well, it sounds a little funny but I used to wander around the neighbourhood as an excuse to leave the house… My parents never really noticed because they were busy with my sister’s debut and family business affairs at the time, but my father would always excuse me if I said it was to visit the church,” you huffed, “I liked it, actually. There was something so… peaceful, about the church grounds.” 

“I suppose it didn’t feel like I was just wandering around whenever I went there, because I could see all sorts of things and people… people in their desperation, their hope, in their vulnerability… somewhat like I was when I was watching them,” you averted your gaze to the vase of white lilies that sat on top of the little round table he had near him, reminding you of your sister, “there was a period around last year, if I recall correctly. My sister was going through a difficult time, and I was worried sick about her… my role in the family was always to just occupy myself with my own whims and fancies, to be kept out of the loop because they were afraid I couldn’t handle the truth of things. But I knew what was happening.” 

Mr Suh nodded, “Did something happen to her?” 

You nodded, “The family was at risk of being in debt because of a man my mother was trying to marry her off to while she was in love with someone else, who we weren’t sure was ever going to return to town. Honestly, the situation didn’t seem very hopeful at the time, and I had to just keep pretending I didn’t know what was happening when I was in front of my parents.” 

“It was scary, to see how she almost married into a lie.” 

Glancing at Mr Suh, you were surprised to find his gaze still on you, attentive, patient, reassuring. You shifted in your seat, your hands in your lap as you fiddled with your fingers and your gloves. 

“It grew difficult, obviously, to be always finding ways to feel useful and overcompensating at home because I felt so helpless, so I would go off to the church as a sort of escape, you know? A place where I didn’t have to be ‘doing’, a place where I could just… feel what I was feeling.” 

Humming, Mr Suh nodded, “It was safe there,” he commented, earning a nod from you. 

“I suppose my loitering grew obvious,” you huffed in amusement, “because one day the priest just came up to me and asked me if I was alright, you know, if there was anything I needed.” 

“So, I told him how I was feeling—again, I’m not very sure what compelled me to do that, but it felt natural, I suppose, since I felt safe there—and I asked him what a person in my position could do. And he told me something really interesting… he said faith is nothing without trust, and … at the heart of trust is to be vulnerable. That was all I could do, to let myself be vulnerable and trust that what I was doing for my sister was enough, even if I didn’t feel like it was.” 

Mr Suh nodded, your words seeming to resonate with him again, the similar desires within your hearts to be vulnerable and be protected and loved in this vulnerability that came with baring your heart and soul to another. 

“I suppose that was how it started, because it made me realise that I wanted that. I was busy telling myself that I couldn’t because I would feel helpless, but I wanted to allow myself to be who I was, to feel all that I felt and be seen in all of that, and to know what it is like to be loved for that, to be supported in that. But… I suppose that is the dilemma I have found myself in,” you laughed, “searching for all of that in a place as ruthless as the marriage market when I couldn’t even seem to find it from my own parents.” 

The questions continued to circle in your head as you looked at Mr Suh, wondering what he was thinking after hearing your tiring monologue. Your mother always told you you had far too many words, no man would be bothered to listen to you. But for some reason, you hoped that if anyone were to, Mr Suh would. 

“Miss Y/N,” he began, the gentleness to his tone paralysing you again, as if grasping you by the shoulders and forcing you to look at him, “I cannot promise you much… but you make me want to promise you all that I have. Even if it is this modest space, I want to promise you that it is safe for you.”

Somehow, that was enough for you.   

A warmth had flooded you, sending warmth to your eyes, a lump forming in your throat that made you feel as though you were dipping your fingers into the depths of this vulnerability you were entering with him. 

You gave him a soft smile, your unspoken expression that it was enough.  

Somehow, that was enough for him. 

Straightening up in your seat, you let out a deep sigh, “But you are right, I can think of far much more excitement to be found elsewhere than debutante balls.” 

Mr Suh quirked an eyebrow at you, not minding the fact that you changed the subject so abruptly judging from the amusement in his smirk, “Is that so? Enlighten me.” 

“Perhaps I shall write a scandal sheet!” you exclaimed, even if you didn’t mean it. 

Always quick to bounce off of your words, Mr Suh scoffed, “You don’t need an excuse to write about me.” 

Not being able to help the laugh that bubbled out of you, you gasped, “How did you know? I already had an article prepared: ‘ Local painter is too flirtatious for his own good’ .” 

Mr Suh laughed, getting up from his stool to make his way over to the little table sat against the wall, your curiosity getting the better of you as you made your way over to where he was, peering over curiously at the various bottles of things he had on the table. 

“What are these for?” 

Pointing at the little bottles he had, labelled in a scrawl you weren’t focused enough to decipher, he spoke, “These are bottles of pigments. I don’t have an assistant or an apprentice or anything like that, so I usually like to make my oil paints myself since I only need them in smaller quantities at a time. It’s quite therapeutic actually.” 

“Is it difficult to make?” 

Sensing your curiosity, Mr Suh smiled, a certain playfulness to his gaze, “Nothing you can’t handle. Do you want to try?” 

Excited by the offer, you nodded, seeing him start to bring out the various things you would need, lifting a granite slab you were sure you would’ve had difficulty lifting onto a long table behind you, followed by another block of granite that was long and flat at the bottom, looking somewhat like a cone but without the sharp edge of it. 

Taking out two small bottles the size of his palm, he made his way over to you, “This is what gives it the colour,” he pointed at one of the bottles, opening it to reveal an earthy brown colour. 

“There’s others, but I wanted to make this one, so I suppose you could help me with that instead.” 

You nodded, eager for him to get on with explaining the process to you, bubbling with excitement from how long it’d been since you got to do anything involving paint. 

“I’ll help you add the oil, and then you can start to use the muller to work it into the pigment.” 

“I’m sorry, the what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, earning giggles from Mr Suh. 

“Perhaps I should just show you, I think that would be better. But before I do that,” he stopped himself, turning to his easel and picking up the apron that hung from its side, your eyes widening as he held it by the neck, “May I?” 

You nodded, wordless as he draped the apron over you while facing you, his gaze intent and maybe even slightly amused at your expression as he let his hands find the strings at the sides, your breath hitching as he reached them around your waist to tie them in a loose knot behind your back, his proximity sending shivers down your spine. Trying to calm your nerves, you took off your gloves, setting them onto the table. 

“There, you may proceed,” his tone was teasing as ever, letting you continue as you folded the oil into the paint using the little paint knife like how he had shown you before. His hands had moved with practised and controlled strength, unlike yours, who simply enjoyed the sensation and malleability of the paint. 

“You can use the muller now,” he pointed at the block of granite that sat on top of the slab, sitting on the stool near you and watching you as you worked. 

Under his gaze, it didn’t feel as though he were watching because he didn’t trust you with the pigment, but quite the opposite, as he watched you with a relaxed demeanour, a hint of a smile playing at his features. 

You weren’t sure how long you were working the muller into the paint, but you were definitely developing a newfound respect for whoever did this as a job. Though you did see why it was therapeutic, you felt weak as you heaved the muller around, wanting to laugh as you imagined how you must look. 

“What an honour it is, to have the diamond of the first water making oil paint for me,” Mr Suh lilted, making you huff, using your forearm to dab at the sweat that formed on your temple, continuing with the rhythmic movements you were growing used to. 

“You’re awfully mistaken, I’m not the diamond.” 

Expecting him to tell you he was joking, you should’ve known Mr Suh had an equally, if not more dangerous way with his words than you did. 

“Is that so? The queen’s judgement is clearly not to be trusted, then… I know that much as I’m looking at you now.” 

Your breath hitched, recovering quickly as you continued your movements, lifting the block to scrape the paint off the edges and collect it on the slab so you could continue to work it in. 

“Are you teasing me?” you scoffed, laughing in spite of yourself. 

Mr Suh, however, remained sincere, the slightest of smiles on his face, “Not in the slightest bit.” 

You weren’t sure how to react, his words flustering you to no end, but you spoke your mind nonetheless. 

“You’re funny, saying that to me while I’m performing an act like this. I can’t imagine how un-ladylike this must look,” you huffed, amused in a way that made Mr Suh smile without knowing. 

“Not quite, something about the way you do it is very… graceful,” he hummed, “perhaps you would have to be in my position to understand what I mean.” 

Turning to face him, your eyebrows lifted in scepticism, “Let us swap places, then. Though, I doubt it would be the same. You’re much more experienced than I am.” 

Always agreeable to your little suggestions, Mr Suh stood up, making his way over to you as you padded over to the stool he sat on before, watching him pick up where you left off. 

Your only thought was that he was right. He was right, he was absolutely right. 

Watching him as he mulled the paint, you found yourself captivated once again, if he thought you were graceful, you wished you could show him what he looked like. There was a certain seriousness he tapped into the moment he stepped up to the table, the gravity with which he regarded his craft, the sincerity he put into it. It attracted you, quite simply. 

Your gaze wandered over to his arms, his hands, the strength they held, making the block of granite look much smaller than when you held it, you figured. It was strength, in its most gentle, practised form. A strength that did not destroy, but that created. 

Something about that thought added to the feelings you associated with the studio, that it was a space of safety, unlike the many debutante balls and soirées you attended. You were starting to wonder if it was the space that made you feel that way, or the presence of Mr Suh within it. After all, it was him that encouraged you to be honest, to be yourself, to try things because he believed you were capable. 

In short, you felt seen. 

“Are you alright?” you hadn’t realised you were staring, Mr Suh tilting his head at you curiously. 

You shook your head, clearing your throat gently in an attempt to conceal your embarrassment, standing up from the stool and stretching your hand out to him. 

“Can I try again?” 

He smiled, already stepping aside to let you take your place at the table.

===

Other rules to help a lady like you squelch the possibilities of romantic passion included forbidding the use of Christian names, paying compliments, and any kind of intimate contact.

“What’s this?” you touched a leatherbound book, secured closed with a string around the middle that sat on the table where you’d placed a fresh vase of salmon coloured roses from Mr Suh. 

Mr Suh turned around from where he was standing at his easel, setting the piece of charcoal in his hands down when he saw what you were looking at, quickly making his way over (borderline stumbling) as he took the book gently from your hands. 

You had grown comfortable with each other, having no qualms about entering deeper conversation, about embarrassing yourselves with each other, revealing deeper parts of yourself to each other, so it was safe to say that his reaction confused you. 

“Is it your diary?” you asked, eyes lighting up with a hint of mischief that Mr Suh found hard to remain firm against. 

Giving you a huff, he held the book behind his back with one arm, “It might as well be.” 

“So, it's not a diary? A notebook, then?” you asked, almost feeling like you were playing a game with how naturally your guesses were coming out, the childlike side of yourself resurfacing and making itself comfortable in Mr Suh’s presence. 

He nodded, “it’s my sketchbook.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, “... that I am not allowed to see?” 

Swallowing thickly, Mr Suh huffed, a hint of embarrassment in the way he averted his gaze just briefly, looking back at you and shaking his head. 

“What you ask of me… is not as simple as you make it seem,” he began, letting out a small sigh, “I would be baring my heart to you, quite plainly.” 

You weren’t sure why the thought of that made you wonder just what was inside his sketchbook. He insisted himself that he did not do portraits, so just what sort of sketches could be within that book that made him so hesitant to show you? You wondered what sketches could possibly hold pieces of his heart so clearly that he felt the need to protect it in such a way. 

“Is that such a horrifying thing?” You asked, genuinely curious, “you seem to have no problem flaunting it on your sleeve.” 

At your words, Mr Suh let out a huff of amusement, his lips pressed together as his expression turned more serious, almost speechless as he shook his head. 

“Not quite… you’ve been the only one able to see it thus far,” his words came out in a soft murmur, solidifying the thoughts that wavered in your heart. 

It was almost like a declaration of intimacy, something stirring within you at the reminder that your relationship with Mr Suh was more than just acquaintances, solidified by friendship and understanding, but entering into much more. 

You shook your head, “Only because you have dared to show it to me.” 

The look on Mr Suh’s face was unreadable, as if he had a million thoughts circling his mind that prevented him from settling on one emotion. And there you stood, oblivious to the fact that he was experiencing that same paralysing feeling of not being able to focus on anything other than you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot show it to you yet,” he sighed, sounding more disappointed than you were. He should’ve known you weren’t one to dwell on it, though, respecting his wishes. 

“I understand,” you assured him, “Well, if you won’t let me see your sketchbook, what will you let me see?” 

Mr Suh’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, a soft smile gracing his features, humming in thought. 

“I suppose I could draw something for you now?” he offered, earning a smile from you as what you supposed was a reckless (genius) idea came to mind. 

“Could you draw it on me?” 

Mr Suh’s lips parted, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him or whether you’d actually said what he thought you did. 

“Hmm?” 

You nodded, “I said I want you to draw it on me.” 

Whether it was bold or reckless, you wouldn’t very well put a label on it at the moment. What you did know, however, was that this was definitely going against anything a ‘respectable lady like you’ should have been doing. It was different, you felt, from simply asking if he could draw you. It was like you said, a kind of vulnerability and trust you were willing to offer to him, for him to print his art onto your skin, something only the both of you would be able to see. 

Mr Suh’s throat felt dry, looking at you blankly and keeping his volume lowered because he felt as though his voice would give, “Uh… where, where exactly would you want it?” 

You debated on your options as you looked at him. You wanted it somewhere where you could keep it hidden, where your mother wouldn’t be able to see it as easily.

You knew that ruled out your hands and arms, since your mother’s gaze was always scanning you during mealtimes and when you played the piano, when your hands and arms weren’t hidden by your gloves. 

Your only other thought was to have it on your ankle, since that would be somewhere only you or your lady's maid would ever see, your mother didn’t very well pay attention to little details like that when it came to you, as long as what was noticeable wasn’t out of line. 

“Sorry, I realise I didn’t bother asking you if you were comfortable with it first,” you huffed, giving him a sheepish smile, feeling your heart stop at the smile he gave you. 

“Believe me, Miss Y/N, if I were uncomfortable with it, I would have told you by now,” he huffed, amusement in his smile as he retrieved his inkstand and quill. 

Only when he sat on the rug in front of you did you realise just what you had gotten yourself into, something about the proximity between the both of you was tempting. It felt close, yet in a way that made you desire to be even closer to him, both in the literal and figurative sense. 

Swallowing, you shifted in your seat, glancing up at him with a nervousness that wasn’t quite present just moments before. 

“Have you decided where, or what you would like me to draw?” he asked, crossing his legs as he leaned his palm against the floor to support his weight, the same calm confidence that made you feel shy under his gaze. 

You nodded, “On my ankle.” 

You watched the way he glanced at said ankle, covered by your stocking and your foot that was still covered by your shoe, blinking up at you before nodding. 

“Somewhere… only I get to see.” 

At that, Mr Suh smiled, “And is there anything in particular you would like me to draw?” 

Now it was your turn to smile, already excited to see what he would come up with, what he would associate with you. 

“I’ll let you decide that.” 

His eyebrows lifted, the image coming to mind almost immediately. 

Giving you a nod, he had barely registered what you were doing as you removed one of your shoes, averting his gaze and pretending to be busy with his ink as you started to remove one of your stockings, his gaze landing on the ribbon garter you had used to hold it up, tossing it aside as you worked on removing the silk stocking. 

Mr Suh let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, looking at his fingernails and then at the ribbon again, at your face and then at the stocking you now tossed aside next to the ribbon, unsure where to place his gaze out of respect for you. 

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to your now uncovered leg peeking out from under the hem of your dress. 

Nodding, he reached one of his hands out to grasp your ankle, the feeling of the warmth of his hands on your skin surprising you, your breath hitching just slightly and hoping he hadn’t noticed. 

You lifted your foot off of the ground to help him, surprised when he’d set your ankle on one of his thighs, understanding that the angle would make it easier for him and more comfortable for you. 

Mr Suh let out a small huff of amusement at the way you’d flinched when the quill had touched your skin. 

“Sorry, it was a little ticklish,” you huffed, the unfamiliar sensation distracting you from your nervousness slightly. 

You heard him sigh, his gaze still trained on whatever drawing he was working on.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, the tone with which he said your name making you soften, almost forgetting about your nervousness as you looked at him, humming in response, “I do hope you are not as willing to offer yourself to just any man in such a manner.” 

Your lips parted in shock, bashfulness creeping up on you again as you huffed, trying to mask your embarrassment with your words, “Do you suppose I should only make such an offer to you?” 

Mr Suh glanced up at you, detecting the little hint of challenge in your tone, his hand resting on where he was holding your ankle to keep it steady, his thumb smoothing over the skin unconsciously (or consciously, you wouldn’t have known). 

“My honest answer?” he spoke, his gaze searching yours with that same calm confidence of his, “is yes.”

Your stare was blank, in spite of the many thoughts racing in your mind. 

“You can rest assured, Mr Suh,” you murmured, suddenly feeling disappointed at the fact you did not know his first name, feeling as though addressing him so formally sounded off in a situation like this, “you are the only one I would trust with myself like this.” So intimately. 

Mr Suh poorly stifled the smile on his face as he tilted his head down, continuing with his drawing as you tried to calm your heart. 

“Actually, if you don’t mind me asking…” you murmured, swallowing as you mustered up your courage in spite of your shyness, “what is your first name?” 

Mr Suh replied naturally, as if not giving it a second thought as you felt the ticklish feeling of the quill against the delicate skin of your ankle. 

“Youngho,” he murmured. 

You hummed, clenching your fist to prevent yourself from shifting from the ticklish feeling.

“Youngho,” you echoed, feeling the ticklish feeling stop almost instantly. 

You felt his grip on your ankle tense before relaxing, looking up from your ankle and blinking at you slowly, his expression unreadable but rendering you speechless with how he was looking at you. 

Letting out a shaky breath, it didn’t register to you why he was so taken aback, your mind racing to the conduct books, wondering if it was because addressing him by his name like this was too intimate, too personal. Only then did your mind recall the conversation you had about his father, figuring that must have been why he seemed so shocked. 

“Sorry,” you blurted out, “I forgot about what you said about your father—” 

“No, no,” Youngho shook his head, reassurance in his expression and his tone, “... I want you to call me that.” 

Your eyebrows lifted, feeling as though something was being unlocked between the both of you, as if now it wasn’t just dipping your fingers into the depth of what you both desired, but stepping in, fully knowing what you were getting into with the action. 

“Will you call me by my first name as well?” 

Youngho nodded slowly, “Do you want me to?” 

You nodded, not even being able to find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how quickly you responded. 

“I do.” 

Youngho hummed, “then I will, Y/N .” 

Somehow, hearing it like that, spoken so delicately, spoken so intentionally by him, it was as if he were giving you more reason to fall in love with hearing your name again. 

It felt like it had been ages ever since you had heard someone call you by your name, hearing it felt foreign, yet it felt right, as if it was the only way you wished to hear it. Like a declaration of love. 

Letting go of your ankle, he gestured with a small (even slightly bashful) smile that you could take a look. With all the eagerness you’d been struggling to restrain, you pulled your leg closer to yourself, your smile growing when you spotted the delicate looking sunflower on your skin. 

“I like it very much,” you murmured, appreciating the delicate look of it, yet how it held a meaning that was anything but. 

Youngho simply smiled, “I’m pleased that you find it to your liking.” 

This time, Youngho wasn’t sure why he couldn’t take his gaze away from you as you wore the stocking over your leg, watching as the little sunflower got covered by the silk fabric that was eventually smoothed over your leg to just over your knee, the way you picked up the pink ribbon garter, tying it around the hem of the stocking with practised, routine movements. 

Youngho brought a hand up to the collar of his shirt, fixing his suspenders out of a need to fidget, to distract himself from his want to know what the silk ribbon would feel like in his hands, to distract himself from the feeling of the distance between the both of you. Yet not being able to feel as though it was a certain reverence that was keeping his gaze on you. 

Once you were done, you smoothed your dress over, standing up with a small grunt, your legs feeling sore from sitting in the same position for so long. Youngho stood up as well, though he kept his gaze averted, knowing it was about time for you to return home for tea. 

“I should be leaving now,” you spoke to fill the silence, drawing his gaze to you, not being able to smile at how flustered he looked, as much as he was trying to hide it. 

Youngho nodded, “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. Be safe on your way back.” 

Seeming to have composed himself, Youngho brought a hand up to run his fingers through his hair, giving you a tight-lipped smile. 

You nodded, taking your little purse and taking slow steps backwards, reluctant to leave even though you knew it would only be a short while before you got to see him again. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, opening the door for you. 

Turning to give him a smile, you nodded, “Goodbye, Youngho.” 

That day when you’d returned home, a giddy smile on your face and your heart thumping wildly like a protagonist in one of your sister’s romance novels, you couldn’t help but replay your interactions with Youngho in your head. 

A part of you wondered why you hadn’t asked him for his name sooner, because now it was all that made sense. The simple man you had come to know, who was genuine, observant, perceptive, sweet, honest. That was Youngho to you, that was what made sense to you. 

Even as you lay in bed that night, thinking about the little sunflower resting on the skin of your ankle, you were sure anybody else would have thought you were going crazy, but it replayed over and over again in your head. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho. 

Your little mantra of love. 

===

Another rule that was essential to remember, was that a gentleman might take the arm of a lady like yours through his, to support you while out walking. But he must never try to take your hand, even to shake it friendly-like. If he did, you must immediately withdraw it with a strong air of disapproval, whether you felt it or not. 

Something you greatly appreciated about Youngho was that he was never one to be afraid of getting his hands dirty. 

Surely you were the same, out in the garden digging up earthworms as you were a child even though your mother would yell at you that you were going to get your dress dirty. But overtime, as they clamped down stricter on their rules and as you grew more occupied with the various accomplishments they desired for you to build, you had to forego certain things that would get in the way of that. 

Things like painting. 

As much as it was a common accomplishment for a lady like you to have, your mother had always viewed it distastefully, saying that the way you went about it was far too messy. So you’d resorted to other means of creating art, like your flower arrangements. Those, she would excuse, since they were deemed ‘useful’ for the house, so you figured you had come to cling to it as a way for you to express that desire within you to create, to appreciate beauty in such a way. 

When you had told Youngho this, you should have known it was only natural for him to have offered you the opportunity to paint again. He was quick to give you the space, laying out large cloth on the floor to protect the rug, even going to the extent of asking you if you would be more comfortable working on the piece on the easel or on the floor. 

So that was how you ended up standing in front of the canvas, apron wrapped around you snugly as you let yourself enjoy the freedom of letting your body move without much thought. 

“You’d put me out of business if you sold your paintings,” Youngho huffed in amusement, one of many praises he’d offered to you when he saw you painting.

“I doubt so,” you muttered distractedly, frowning slightly at your painting. 

You huffed, turning slightly and picking up your fan from the little table that was next to your hip, making a last-ditch attempt at making the paint dry faster using the breeze you created with your fan. 

Deciding you had other ideas, you set the fan down on the table, looking at your painting and trying to execute your idea. 

For some reason though, it was growing frustrating as the paint didn’t seem to move like how you envisioned it would. Youngho seemed to sense your annoyance (though it was quite obvious through your frustrated huffs), turning his gaze away from his own canvas to face you with a hum. 

“What’s wrong?” Youngho asked, already getting up to make his way over to you, peering over at your painting from behind you. 

“I can’t seem to get it to fan out the way I want it to,” you sighed, “my brush isn’t big enough for it.” 

Youngho’s gaze on your painting was intent, seeming to be thinking from his own perspective, shrugging as he turned to you. 

“You’re free to use my hand as your brush,” he offered, his nonchalance making you pause to process his words. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, earning a nod from him. 

“Really, I’m sure,” he reassured, waiting patiently as you dared yourself to grasp his hand with both of yours. 

Youngho almost wanted to laugh, thinking of the time he had let you mull the paint, how you insisted that your strength used to mull the paint was much less than his, yet he had never felt it so strongly till now, in the firm grip with which you grasped his hand. 

An ever present strength in gentleness that he’d come to associate with you. 

You could practically feel the warmth radiating from his body with how close he stood behind you, with how he let his arm rest against yours as you moved it with ease. 

It was almost amusing to you, how when you used his hand to smear the paint, it looked exactly like how you had pictured it in your mind. It made you wonder if all along you’d grown used to observing him, how he paints, that it was natural for your mind to picture how he would make his mark on your creations.

“Perfect,” you murmured, gaze appreciating your painting, trying to ignore the tension within your body that came with being in such close proximity with Youngho.

Turning to face him, your hands still clasped around his palm and wrist, his soft skin a contrast to the sturdiness you felt as you held his hand, his soft features a contrast from the intensity of his gaze when it met yours. 

It seemed your thoughts had a mind of their own, as you let your gaze wander from the hazel of his eyes, to the deep black of his hair, to the dusty pink of his lips. 

Conduct books be damned, none of them warned you about him. 

“For some reason…” you began, your voice barely a murmur as you shifted your gaze back to meet his, watching how his gaze had flickered to your lips briefly, as if trying to catch himself, “no matter how close you are to me…” 

Youngho shook his head slightly, his lips parting to speak, “It never feels close enough.” 

You nodded, unsure what other words could express your heart better in this moment, feeling him lean in, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips, feeling as though it was a ghost of his kiss that was being pressed against your lips. 

You weren’t sure if you were breathing, the only thing on your mind being the little mantra of love you had for him beating in your heart, supplying you with courage, supplying you with even more affection for him. 

Feeling his lips brush against yours ever so slightly, you clutched his hand tighter in your grip, hearing him huff, a smile gracing his features.

“Are you teasing me?” you whispered. 

Youngho shook his head, watching as your eyes had fluttered shut so naturally, as his breath fanned over your cheek, “Not in the slightest bit.” 

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against yours, softly, yet with insistence. Letting go of his hand, you let yourself make use of the courage coursing through your veins, bringing your hands up to cup his face and feeling the slight stubble under your palm, the action making him stumble forward slightly. Youngho’s hand reached out quickly to find purchase on something and ended up on your fan, the traces of colour from your painting now smeared against the once white and spotless accessory. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing, but it felt as though he did, with how he led the kiss, bringing his paint free hand up to touch the small of your back, pulling you gently towards him. 

So, you let yourself follow, follow the way his lips moved against yours, follow his movements that brought you closer to him, follow the way your head tilted up at the touch of his hand. 

You allowed him to spoil you, to fill your mind with only thoughts of him, with the little mantra that would repeat and that you wished to repeat for as long as your heart could feel for someone, for him. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

You hadn’t realised how much you were leaning into him, with how secure it felt for him to be supporting your weight like this. It didn’t even cross your mind to feel embarrassed at your lack of experience in this area, he never let you feel any of that, not with how he kissed you with such intention as though you were the only one he’d ever loved and would ever love.

It was a strange feeling, solidified by his kiss, to feel desired and even more loved. It wasn’t one or the other that you sensed in the way he’d deepened the kiss, in the way his paint covered hands had grasped your hip to hold you close, because as much as there was desire, there was love you felt in the way he cradled your face, in the way he let you melt into him with the promise that you would be supported. 

In that moment, you knew that regardless of his background, his wealth, his occupation, you were willing to give your heart to him. Only Youngho.  

=== 

A lady like you should have considered this common sense, but you must never confess your feelings until absolutely convinced of a man’s intentions.

Youngho was finding it hard to keep his heart from fluttering as you led him behind the church grounds, your hand grasping his firmly as you walked before him, familiar with the route in a way that only came from experience. 

It was interesting to him, he found, the feeling that stirred within his heart as he looked at your proud smile once the both of you had reached a little pond, its circumference marked out by big stones lined up against one another, and wildflowers decorating the grass. In this case, your actions definitely spoke louder than your words— a girl who couldn’t lie to save her life, willing to take such risks for him, someone only revealed to her as a poor painter. 

He remembered what he told Jaehyun, when the viscount was persuading him to meet the sister of the girl he loved. He remembered telling Jaehyun that he didn’t think love was going to be in the cards for him, but looking at you now, he knew he was wrong. The girl he was looking at, pointing at the little frog that swam past you in the pond and tapping his arm to get his attention, was love in all he had come to discover it to be. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you drawled, gesturing around you at the empty open field, taking your seat next to the pond with Youngho following suit, the two empty glasses and bottle of wine in his hands clinking gently as he did so. 

“It’s beautiful,” Youngho gushed with extra dramatics, earning a huff of laughter from you, “how did you discover this place?” 

You shrugged, smoothing over your dress as you made yourself comfortable, “I told you, I spent a lot of time wandering around.” 

“Well, it was time well spent, indeed,” he smiled, his nose scrunching as he let the glasses lean against his knee, removing his gloves and setting them aside before getting the bottle open. 

“Where did you say that was from, again?” you asked, ever curious. 

Youngho paused briefly, glancing at the bottle before pouring some into each of the glasses. 

“Italy,” he said, “They import wine here, actually. The wine merchant? Do you recall? The one that was the previous landlord of my studio, he’s the owner of the winery that produces this wine.” 

“Wow,” you huffed, “Wonder why I’ve never seen much of it before.” 

At that, Youngho couldn’t help but laugh, looking at you sceptically, “You speak as though you’re an avid drinker.” 

Embarrassed by his teasing, you scoffed, though the smile on your face lingered, “I suppose I could have come across it in my time at home, you know, snooping around in my father’s study.” 

Youngho nodded, a patronising smile on his face, “Yeah, yeah, I suppose .” 

Removing your gloves, you’d set it next to his on the grass, accepting the glass from him with a small murmur of thanks. 

Sniffing the red liquid, you couldn’t help but glance up at him for some confirmation that it was supposed to smell like this, or what to anticipate its taste to be. 

“Go ahead, try it,” he nodded reassuringly, bringing his own glass to his lips, sipping the wine in a way that made him seem all-too-accustomed to such tasting. 

Taking a sip, you swallowed, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and a mustered smile, earning a bout of laughter from Youngho. 

“I’m guessing it doesn’t suit your tastes?” 

You shook your head in disagreement, “No, no, It’s just… interesting ,” you hummed, taking another sip and seeing his eyebrows lift as you did so, endearment written all over his features. 

“I shall have to get used to it, I suppose.” 

And get used to it, you did. 

It was in this very pursuit of ‘getting used to it’ that you found yourself growing much more unfiltered (or at least, more than usual). 

Your head had started to feel heavy, Youngho offering for you to rest your head on his lap, and you did so gladly, looking up at him and enjoying the feeling of his fingertips tracing your features lazily, as if committing them to memory, wondering if a sculpture would do you justice when it was made by his hands. 

“Your eyes are really pretty in this light,” you murmured. 

It’d been long since you stopped drinking, Youngho taking the liberty to finish your glass for you while you lay your head on his lap. 

Youngho almost sputtered around his drink, setting the glass down onto the grass and turning to look at you with a teasing smile.

“If this is you ‘getting used’ to the wine, I find it hard to have any complaints,” he laughed, “you’re smiling at me more than usual, and that’s saying a lot.” 

You brought your hands up to cover your mouth, though it didn’t do anything to conceal your smile, laughter bubbling out of you as you shook your head. 

“This is unfamiliar to me, but I find I cannot help but smile at you. It’s as though my body is moving in its most honest manner.” 

“It’s honest, that’s for sure,” he reassured, earning a hum from you. 

Reaching a hand out towards one of his hands, the one closest to you in your eyeline, you watched him switch the hand that was holding his wine glass so he could let you have his hand, wondering what exactly you were going to do with it. 

Frankly, you weren’t sure either, bringing his hand close to your face and daring yourself to press a gentle kiss to his palm, the smile that followed making Youngho’s eyebrows lift, his smile mirroring yours. 

You let go of his hand, letting it rest on top of your face and shutting your eyes, though it was amusing to him, the way he could feel the outline of your smile against his palm.

You noticed that Youngho grew more serious after a few drinks, a certain sleepiness taking over his gaze as he looked at nothing in particular. The both of you enjoyed the silence, aside from the sound of nature, the sound of the both of you just existing in that place, it was a peace you couldn’t quite describe. You couldn’t deny that the silence gave room for your thoughts to wander, your excitement for your sister’s return bringing with it all your fears about what would proceed from her return as well. 

“My sister is to return from her honeymoon soon,” you said, “I am sure she and her husband have plans to hold a private ball once they are here.” 

Judging from the absence of a smile from your face now, Youngho hummed, moving his hand just slightly so it rested against the side of your face now, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your cheek, warmth radiating from him to you. 

“You don’t sound very happy about that.” 

You shook your head, “I suppose it’s because I’m not.” 

Glancing up at him, you let one of your hands cover his, touching the skin of his hand in drowsy patterns, with no desire in mind but to feel him. 

“I’m sure their search for a suitable husband for me will only intensify once she returns,” you sighed deeply, eyebrows furrowing as you frowned. 

“Husband,” Youngho echoed, something akin to a mix of a sigh and a groan leaving him. 

“Dear husband ,” you drawled, as though you were calling someone, grimacing as soon as the words left your lips, meeting Youngho’s amused gaze and feeling the smile grace your features again. 

“You know, I never once heard my mother call my father anything other than his name before,” you recalled, shifting slightly where you lay so you could see Youngho better. 

Youngho hummed, nodding, “Me neither. I suppose maybe I was too young to notice. Either that or perhaps they saved the terms of endearment for when they were alone.” 

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation. 

“You’re smart, I never considered that.” 

Youngho could only laugh, his hand smoothing over your hair affectionately, “Do I get a reward, then?” he asked. 

Youngho suddenly leaned over so he was close enough to you that it made you shut your eyes, opening them up again with a huff when you felt him press a kiss to your forehead instead, pulling back with giggles leaving him that made it hard for you to remain annoyed. 

“How cruel of you,” you huffed, earning a dramatic gasp from him. 

“Cruel? What an inappropriate descriptor of me,” he smiled. Perhaps he was right, that smile was anything but cruel. 

“What would you call your wife?” you asked, practically thinking out loud at this point. 

Your question surprised Youngho, but he was always sporting your various trains of thought or rambling, and it was no different this time. 

“That depends… on her personality, how I feel towards her,” he glanced at you as he finished speaking, averting his gaze back to the field as you felt his thumb continue to caress your cheek. 

“So, it would change from person to person?” 

Youngho hummed, “I suppose it would.” 

You were starting to realise the truth behind the phrase ‘liquid courage’, your gaze firm on Youngho with your next words. 

“What if it was me, then? What would you call me?” 

Youngho met your gaze, looking almost pensive for a moment as he felt the peace you described about the church grounds, the peace in his heart that came with your presence, and all the love you brought to him with you. 

“Beloved,” he spoke, again, as though he was calling your name, and as if you were hearing it in the only way you wished to hear it, “I’d call you beloved.” 

“My beloved,” he said with finality. 

In that moment, in that little declaration of who you were to him, it was as though you were being reminded of what you seemed to have forgotten. In being declared his beloved, you were worthy of love, you were loved as you were, regarded dearly even in your fear of not being useful or helpful. 

In short, you felt known. 

It was true, Youngho was not cruel. What was cruel was the reminder that your mother would never approve of him, what was cruel was the fact that once your sister returned, you were going to be thrown into whoever’s arms your family deemed fit. What was cruel was that you knew whoever they were, they weren’t Youngho. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, averting your gaze from his face. 

Youngho was feeling the effect of his words, knowing very well for himself that he was in far too deep now. But even despite this knowledge, he didn’t want to come out. He wanted to bury himself in all that he was feeling, to solidify the fact that when he thought of a wife, only your face came to mind, only you made sense to take that place. 

“Do you think it would have been different…” he glanced at you, searching your pensive gaze, “you know, if we had met under different circumstances.” 

“What circumstances?” you hummed, attentive in a way that made Youngho feel even more certain about his words. 

“As nobility.” 

The seriousness of his tone would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, considering it was completely hypothetical. But perhaps it was your pensive mood that made you consider his words more seriously, wishing they were the reality you were in. 

You frowned, shaking your head, “It’s never crossed my mind, but… I’m sure I would’ve been drawn to you the same.” 

Turning to brace a hand on his thigh as you sat up, letting his hand fall back onto his lap as you met his gaze, mirroring his seriousness and sincerity as you spoke the truth of what you felt. 

“I’m sure of it,” you repeated, as if hoping it was getting through to him, “nobility or not… you’re you .” 

Taking his hand in his, you fiddled with his fingers, interlocking your fingers, moving them just enough so you could press the tips of your fingernails against the pads of his fingertips. 

Glancing down at your hand in his, he let out a deep breath, looking back up at your face. 

“Do you mean that?” he asked, needing to hear the confirmation from your own lips. 

You shot him a look, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. 

“You know I’m not a good liar,” you reminded, a certain shyness overcoming you as you struggled to hold his gaze, something about the intensity of the way he was looking at you flustering you to no end. 

Youngho huffed, a hint of amusement in his features that let you know he was about to say something to tease you. 

“And you know I would believe anything you say to me when you say it like that.” 

You sighed, daring yourself to bring one of his hands up to your face, letting yourself lean into the warmth of his palm. 

“Youngho,” you began, and Youngho was sure just in how you said his name, there was all the sincerity he searched for, all the vulnerability of yourself that you were showing to him. 

“To be a lady and for me to be like this with you... I need you to understand what this means for me… I need you to understand all that I am risking, and know that I find it worth risking for you.” 

As the words left you, you felt unbearably exposed under his gaze, Youngho’s silence making you want to reassure him, your hand that covered his on your face rubbing the back of his hand gently. 

"Do you believe me?" you murmured. 

Youngho didn’t know what to do with all the love he was feeling, so he did what felt natural to him. 

He let his hand pull away from your face, pulling you close to him so he could wrap his arms around you, cradling your head in his hand, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. 

“I believe you.”

In his arms, you felt the protection around your vulnerability, the intangible desire in your heart manifesting in the way you felt a sigh leave you, leaning into his embrace. 

=== 

And importantly, a lady like you should have a sacred regard to truth, for lying is a mean and despicable vice. 

Padding down the stairs on another morning, a few days after the night in the field with Youngho, you were going about what became your new routine, heading to the kitchen, ready to retrieve your share (and Youngho’s) of honey biscuits from your lady’s maid before you would head off to his studio. 

Except, today was different. 

You should have known something was off from the sympathetic looks you were getting from the staff since you came out of your room, not thinking much of it until you found your lady’s maid in the drawing room, seeing her slip a little pamphlet in your hands with an urgency that unsettled you, your gaze barely landing on the title before you heard your mother’s voice. 

“You,” your head snapped around at the sound of her tone, knowing almost instantly that the sinking feeling in your gut was not unfounded, “I believe we need to have a talk.”

Your gaze landed on your father who stood behind her, stoic and almost apathetic-looking as he simply stood there. 

With how angry your mother  seemed, you were surprised she was even talking to you at all. But as for your father? You felt it was worse, to be constantly searching for his gaze and not being met with it, as he fixed his gaze elsewhere. Following your parents up the stairs, your heart began to pound harshly as they entered your room, feeling as though its pounding stopped entirely when you saw your painting lying on the floor. 

“Is it true?” she asked, earning a frown from you. 

You glanced at your father, who had taken his place behind her, simply looking blankly at the floor. 

You frowned, “Is what true?” you dared to ask, watching warily as her jaw clenched. 

“It aggravates me how you still have the ability to act nonchalant,” she bent over, grabbing the painting so harshly that it made you grimace, “have you been acquainting yourself indecently with that painter ?” 

The way she spoke of his occupation was as though it was a crime, but that wasn’t your concern at this moment. You wondered how she knew, or how you should react, but like you said, you were never a good liar. Your expression alone was enough to give it away. 

“I want you to stop this immediately. You will not ruin your prospects, your reputation, your virtue, for a man who is not worth considering,” there was spite in her tone, the way she spoke about Youngho unnerving you. Though it all still didn’t answer your question of how she came to know about him. 

Your lips parted only to close again, unable to find the words you wished to express to her. 

“He is a good man,” was all you could muster, the scoff you received in return making you cower, feeling warm tears prick at your eyes. 

“Anyone can be a ‘good man’ ,” she told you, “being a ‘good man’ does not provide you financial security. Being a ‘good man ’ does not guarantee you a house. Being a ‘good man’ does not excuse recklessness.” 

You half expected your father to step in, to tell her to go easy on you. Or to try to soothe her temper so her words would become less cutting. But none of that came, even as you looked desperately at him for some signal that he would step in to help you, you continued to be met with the image of your father looking as though he had better things to be done elsewhere, dissociated from whatever was happening. 

You weren’t sure what hurt you more, the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed you or the fear that it was only a prelude for what was to come. It felt as though you were being made to choose between disappointing your family or losing and disappointing the man you loved. Neither of which you wanted, but you knew you weren’t going to have much of a choice. 

“I forbid you from seeing that man again. You will not leave this house if it is not for an event,” your mother spoke, tossing your painting onto the floor and leaving without another word, your father following silently behind her. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until you felt your tears touch your lips, bringing your hand up to wipe your tears away and realising then that you were still holding the pamphlet your lady’s maid gave you. 

Bypassing the mocking title, you continued to read. 

It should have been obvious to you when you read your initial next to ‘Lady’, reading on in spite of yourself. 

‘... seen with a local painter in a position that shall not be described… Considering her sister’s success in marriage that elevated her to a viscountess, it must come as a shock to anyone for her to have looked much lower for her own marriage partner… a fling like this is surely only good for temporary excitement…’ 

You stopped reading, setting the pamphlet aside and burying your face into your mattress. 

How you missed your sister in a time like this, though you had no idea how you were going to explain this to her when she returned. 

You would soon find that your mother would do all the explaining for you, filling your sister in on all the details she’d procured from the scandal sheet while you were simply too upset to do any explaining for yourself. Frankly, the only thought on your mind was that you hoped Youngho wasn’t worried, since it had been weeks since you had stopped visiting his studio. 

Your sister’s husband, the viscount Jung Jaehyun, wasn’t helping either, insisting that he had a friend of his that he felt would be a suitable marriage partner for you. Your sister seemed to agree, casting sympathetic looks your way whenever the topic of marriage came up, but insisting in her own gentle way that perhaps it would be for the best to move forward. 

It was difficult to hear about how much property he had as the owner of a winery, his wealth or even his penchant for the arts because the only thing on your mind was the man with little to his name, sitting in his studio waiting for you to arrive. 

There was nothing left for you to do, not with how your mother wouldn’t speak to you or acknowledge you directly, not with how your father seemed to want to pretend nothing had ever happened to begin with, not with how you weren’t allowed to leave the house if it was not for social events now. It seemed the choice you were being handed on a platter was to be a good daughter, the product of all the conduct books you read; as helpless as it made you feel. 

===

You figured this was a rule you should have regarded more seriously, but a lady like you should remember that infallibility is not the property of man, or you may entail disappointment on yourself, by expecting what is never to be found.

Perhaps the higher power that was watching over you decided that things weren’t quite over yet.  

Because as you stood in the makeshift ballroom of your sister and her husband’s new house, the drawing room they had converted into a ballroom space for dancing and hosting, you couldn’t deny the way your stomach churned with anxiety at her husband’s excitement, insisting that his friend was to arrive soon. 

You were sure you’d tuned out the noise at one point, finding it hard to ignore the way you were feeling giddy (and not in a very good way), wanting nothing more but to be at home away from any potential suitors that weren’t Youngho. So, it was safe to say you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you when you saw the man walking in with the viscount. 

Dressed in clothes that looked even more elaborate and expensive than those you saw on Taeyong at the races, or even those the viscount adorned now, walking with the same air of calm confidence that you’d practically memorised by now. 

The same black hair, hazel eyes, dusty pink lips that grew clearer to you the closer they came to where you stood with your sister. 

None of it made sense, he shouldn’t even have been able to be here. 

You weren’t sure you were breathing, face to face with the very man that hadn’t left your mind for what seemed like forever. Your little mantra of love began to repeat in your head, as though it were natural for your heart to respond in such a way, desperate to let him know that his presence was felt. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho. 

You barely noticed how Jaehyun had introduced him, drawn back to the present moment with your sister’s voice ringing in your ears. 

“It is rather relieving to finally be able to put a face to the faceless Marquess,” she huffed in amusement, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Suh.” 

Marquess? 

You frowned, eyebrows furrowed and your gaze firmly fixed on Youngho’s. The marquess they had told you about for the past week, who had recently inherited all the property of his father who had passed, property including a winery. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what an arduous task it was to get Johnny to agree to attend today’s ball,” Jaehyun laughed, making your frown deepen, your sister being able to sense that this was more than just a displeasure that you felt towards the Marquess. 

Youngho’s gaze was apologetic, which had only served to upset you even more. You were trying to process all that was happening, but couldn’t shake the mixed emotions you were feeling all at once. 

Turning to you, your sister nudged you lightly, “Is something wrong?” 

You managed to tear your gaze away from Youngho, turning to your sister and taking in a deep breath, though it didn’t feel like you were breathing at all, the air not seeming to satisfy your lungs and making you feel as though you had to try again. 

“I need to get some air.” 

You started walking, but you weren’t sure where exactly your destination was. All you knew was that you were hyper aware of the fact that Youngho was following you and you didn’t want to be caught with him alone outside the building, not wanting your mother to be even more upset at you. 

It would’ve been amusing if the situation was different, feeling as though you were playing a game of cat and mouse as you tried to out-walk him in the confines of the drawing room. Youngho’s strides were always much bigger than yours, though, so you should have known that it was only a matter of time before he would have caught up with you.

“May I have the honour of a dance with you, Miss Y/N,” he spoke firmly, loud enough that the lady next to you had turned to you with an expectant look, wondering why you were taking so long to respond to him. 

It was unfortunate, how in a situation like this, you couldn’t exactly go against the etiquette rules you loved to flout. You knew that for as long as you were in this room, you had to acknowledge the truth that as long as you were not spoken for, you had no choice but to accept his offer to dance. 

You settled for a small nod, keeping your gaze low as you accepted his hand and let him lead you to where the other guests were dancing. You barely had time to adjust before you had to react quickly to the song, following the choreography with ease and perhaps even being slightly annoyed that Youngho was even better at it than you were. 

“Please say something,” he pleaded, making you shake your head, still keeping your gaze on anything but his face, not knowing what your heart would make you do if you were to meet his attentive gaze in this space. 

“No,” you muttered, “I’ve been too rude to a marquess all this time.” 

Youngho was barely able to stop himself. 

“Y/N, please.” 

Your head snapped up at the sound of your name, tears welling up in your eyes as Youngho’s expression softened. You felt his grip on you tighten, steadying you, the same unspoken promise that you were supported even when you felt like your body would give at any moment. 

It didn’t make sense to you in your head. 

Someone like Youngho, who never underestimated you, who was always attentive to you, who read you like an open book and never held it against you. You didn’t think he would ever treat you like how your family did, hiding things from you, viewing you as a little child who was incapable of handling grown-up matters, confining her to her childish duties of pleasing others and arranging flowers. It was an awful feeling that came with the thought that Youngho, of all people, would ever subject you to such humiliation. 

“Why did you lie?” you frowned, swallowing thickly though it did nothing to the lump you felt in your throat, “did you think I wouldn’t be able to handle it? Did you find some kind of pleasure in making me a fool?” 

You scoffed, blinking harshly, “As if I haven’t had more than my fair share of that Young— Your Lordship .” 

Youngho frowned, “Why are you calling me that?” 

You sighed deeply, feeling breathless from both the choreography and your sheer emotion. 

“Is it not your title?” 

Youngho shook his head, more out of dismissal than denial, “What happened to ‘even if we met as nobility’? Did that mean nothing to you?” 

Your lips parted, offence in your gaze as you scoffed. 

“I’m upset, but do not think for even a second that I did not mean every word I said to you,” you told him, a firmness to your tone that made Youngho regret his words, “unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you.” 

Youngho paused, a tense silence falling between the both of you that contrasted the cheerful music echoing around the room. 

“It was not personal,” he murmured. 

You frowned, still unable to place what you were feeling, unsure how to convey it to him in a way that would allow him to understand why you were reacting this way. 

“It is always personal. How could you…” you averted your gaze, shaking your head, “how could you compromise me—”

“ Compromise you?” his tone was incredulous, eyes widening in shock, “I kissed you.” 

Clenching your jaw, you huffed, “Forgive me, truly, for finding it hard to see things for what they are. Forgive me for allowing myself to expect .” 

Your words made Youngho recall your meeting at the races, perhaps some things were best enjoyed without too many expectations . He begged to differ, though, he just wasn’t sure how to let you know that he was ready to give to you whatever you asked for, whatever you were expecting from him. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, frustrated at the environment the both of you were in, at the lack of privacy he felt here, at the way it prevented him from showing you and telling you all that he truly wished to, having to settle for pathetic apologies and pointed looks. 

You let out a sigh, “Just answer me one question.” 

Youngho nodded quickly, humming to prompt you to continue. 

“Were you ever planning on telling me the truth?” you asked, training your gaze up to meet his once again and trying to distract yourself from the way your heart still swelled with love for the one you gazed upon. 

“The day after that night at the church. I was going to tell you then,” he answered, sincerity in his tone, in the way he looked at you, in the way he held you. 

The day the scandal sheet was released.

You nodded, hearing the music come to an end as you let him go, feeling his hands slip from you reluctantly. 

Turning your head, you met your mother’s gaze. 

Youngho noticed the way you had tensed up and increased the distance between yourself and him, returning to the daughter raised by conduct books that your mother was pleased with. The ‘respectable lady’ that would continue to fight her urge to yearn for her love’s touch and search for his gaze in the crowd for the rest of the night. 

=== 

When considering marriage, a lady like you needed to make sure that arrangements offered equitable compensation as it were, for all involved and no one, including the extended families, was being shorted in the exchange.

“How was the ball? Surely it wasn’t so bad after all, wasn’t it?” Jaehyun asked, earning a sigh from Johnny. 

“No, it was the most horrendous torture ever imaginable,” he deadpanned, finding it hard to focus on the boxing match that was happening in front of him, wondering why Jaehyun decided to bring him here of all places. But he figured he wouldn’t have minded being her under any other circumstance. 

Wincing at the fighter who had taken a particularly bad hit, Jaehyun folded his arms across his chest, “Shame, though, I thought you and Miss Y/N would’ve gotten along particularly well.” 

Johnny frowned, “What makes you say that?” 

Jaehyun shrugged, his gaze still following the fight, “You know, I heard from her sister that she was involved with another man… a painter, if I recall correctly. And her mother didn’t seem to approve because of his status or something along that line…” he trailed off distractedly, earning an expectant hum from Johnny. 

“And?” he prompted, impatient now to know what was said about his and your relationship. 

“Oh, right. Yes, so we figured that it would be better to present her with some other options, you know? We thought introducing her to you would help her move on from it, but she’s been off ever since the day of the ball. Her sister says she’s never seen her like that before, going from being so insistent to so… emotionally detached from it all.” 

Johnny hummed, something in him feeling as though he needed to prepare himself to receive a piece of bad news, judging from the way Jaehyun sighed. 

“But I suppose her mother has worn her out,” Jaehyun sighed, “she’s been recommending another man to Miss Y/N, one she claims is more reasonable… you know, dowry-wise and all.” 

Johnny frowned, “Didn’t anyone try to dissuade her?” 

Jaehyun frowned, “I suppose that’s the thing, she hasn’t protested to it herself… my suspicion is that she’s afraid of disappointing her mother.” 

For some reason, Johnny couldn’t wrap his head around it, “And did you try to say anything?” 

Jaehyun shot Johnny a knowing look, “Believe me, I’ve tried. Miss Y/N was the one that told me it was alright.” 

“She did?” Johnny frowned, earning a huff from Jaehyun. 

“Do you see that man over there, standing by the table?” Jaehyun nudged Johnny, gesturing to the direction of the table with a nod of his head, Johnny’s gaze landing on a man who looked twice your age, counting money from bets he’d won in his hands. 

“That’s the man who is courting her,” Jaehyun told him pointedly, observing Johnny’s reaction carefully as the latter’s gaze stayed fixated on the man, a slight furrow to his eyebrows as he watched him.

Jaehyun continued, “His status is similar to theirs, so it does not require much of a dowry, which I suppose is what her mother’s so agreeable about. But… I think you can understand what I mean when I say I cannot seem to warm up to him.” 

Johnny watched the way the man’s gaze had followed a woman who had walked past him to get to her seat in the spectators stand, something about the way he looked at her unnerving Johnny, growing uncomfortable at the thought of the man looking at you in such a predatory manner. 

“And she has no complaints? About him courting her?” Johnny asked, still staring down the man as though he were trying to burn holes into the man. 

Jaehyun was growing frustrated, wondering how long Johnny was going to deflect the issue at hand with his questions. 

“Don’t you think you would be better off asking her yourself?” 

Johnny tore his gaze away from the man, staring blankly at Jaehyun with his lips parted slightly.

“My time away did not make me a fool, Johnny. It was obvious the moment I saw how you reacted to each other at the ball,” Jaehyun rolled his eyes, “do you suppose there were any other painters in town named Youngho that didn’t work in their own homes?” 

Johnny was at a loss for words, starting to understand why Jaehyun decided to bring him to a random boxing match at mid-day. 

“How long more are you going to spend sitting here and pretending you’re okay with it?” Jaehyun hummed, “you helped me before, and honestly, I’d be more frustrated with myself if I let you carry on like this.” 

Johnny’s gaze shifted to the fighters, then to the man, then back to Jaehyun, unsure what his course of action was going to be but knowing that he wanted nothing more than to go to you now. 

“Her parents are here. I suggest you go now, I can buy you some time,” Jaehyun told him smoothly, and Johnny wondered if this was how he must have looked before when he was aiding Jaehyun with his own love troubles. 

But there was no time for him to dwell on that now, already getting up and leaving as fast as he could to the address Jaehyun had told him. 

“Miss Y/N, you have a caller,” your butler informed you as you were in the middle of playing a piano piece in your drawing room, stopping yourself in embarrassment when you realised it was the piece Youngho told you was his favourite.

Though you weren’t exactly sure why you were embarrassed, it wasn’t as if your butler knew that. 

“Who is it?” 

“Lord Suh, Miss,” your eyes widened as the words left him, standing up from the piano and adjusting your dress, your hand coming up to your face, making sure there was no sleep in your eyes as you nodded at your butler. 

“Okay, you can send him in. Thank you.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when Youngho entered, though the scene had come to mind many times before. 

You imagined him coming into the room with a dramatic profession of apologies, and another scenario where you imagined him to come to you with a sombre expression on his face, pleading with you to forgive him. You would be lying if you said you didn’t even imagine him simply coming to the room and kissing you, but of course, that was a little far fetched. 

What you surely didn’t anticipate was for Youngho to enter the room, a determined look on his face as he met your gaze, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“Are you thinking?” he asked. 

Taken aback by his words, you tilted your head at him, confusion written all over your features. This definitely was not something you anticipated in your daydreams.  

“What’s there for me to think so urgently about?” you asked, watching as Youngho brought a hand up to press it against his forehead, letting his hand drop to his side. 

Shaking his head, he pressed his tongue in his cheek, a small huff leaving him, “Do you really want to wed that man? You cannot possibly be in love with him, you barely know him!”

His tone was insistent, bordering on desperate, a contrast to your still solemn expression, something you were falling back on in the hope that you would not start crying. 

“My mother knows him well enough.” 

Youngho sighed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, and you struggled not to let your gaze linger too long on his lips, shifting your gaze to look out of the window. 

“It is your marriage, Y/N. Not your mother’s, nor your family’s,” he spoke, softer now, but with all the same insistence as before. 

“Is it really?” you frowned, “aren’t all marriages these days purely business? When you marry someone, you’re marrying their family as well—weren’t you all too aware of this? Surely, this was why you chose not to tell me you were a marquess, was it not?” 

Youngho frowned. 

“That was not why I did not tell you. It was never about business to begin with,” he shook his head, pained to see your hurt being expressed in such a way, yet still unsure about how to voice out his thoughts. 

“You may take me for a fool, Youngho, but I know for a fact that you are anything but,” you folded your arms across your chest, breathing in deeply though it didn’t seem to satisfy you again, breathlessness creeping up on you, “what makes you think I am any different? How can you be so sure that I will marry this man for love?” 

Youngho’s expression turned even more serious at your words, holding a certain confidence to it that intimidated you, knowing you could never hide from him as much as you were attempting to do so now through your words. 

“I don’t believe you’d marry without it,” he spoke firmly, more as a statement, a fact. 

It made your mind go blank, knowing he was right. 

You shook your head slowly, your gaze hardening in an attempt to remain firm, “Whether you believe me or not, that does not change the fact that he has made his intentions clear. He is offering money and stability. My family can afford the dowry. I am in no position to refuse.” 

Perhaps you would be able to if he did something, you wanted to add. But somehow in that moment, you were afraid. The past few weeks have been a reminder to you of the helplessness you feared, the kind where you were unsupported, left to flail around for yourself not knowing what you were doing. 

This hardening of your gaze, of your words, of your heart, they were your last-ditch attempt at protecting yourself from that feeling of helplessness you were starting to grow familiar with in the past few weeks. You did not want to grow familiar with it, not for the rest of your life. 

“That man does not deserve you,” Youngho frowned, the way he looked at you with such sincerity making you avert your gaze, his attentiveness becoming too much, as if he was unlocking the part of you that yearned, telling you the things you needed to be reminded of. 

“I did not choose him based on how much he deserves me,” you muttered. 

“That’s because it wasn’t you choosing him at all,” Youngho shot back just as quickly, making you sigh. 

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a murmur as you felt your body yelling at you, telling you to take deeper breaths even though with each breath you took, it didn’t feel like enough.

You were starting to feel like the room was growing suffocating, frustration and longing and everything in between overwhelming you, “I do not have a choice—” 

“No, but you do,” he insisted, “you do have a choice. You can reject him and no one would blame you.” 

Your words were coming out faster than you could process now, only being able to focus on the boy in front of you and the way your heart felt like it was aching for that protection, that assurance, that Youngho allowed you to know. 

“And then what? Disappoint my family by saying no to the one thing they let me do?” you huffed, exasperated, “lose my parents’ trust because I wasn’t honest with them for once in my life?” 

Youngho sighed deeply, “What about love—” 

“And what about honesty?” You said, trying to breathe deeply but the ache in your chest made it difficult to, your fists clenching around your clothes as if trying to lessen the way it felt like you were being crushed. 

“Is that what you are ready to settle for, then?” Youngho’s tone was disbelieving, as if baffled that you were willing to sacrifice your needs and wants so easily, “mindless flattery from a man who is only honest about the fact that he sees you as a prize to be won?” 

Youngho regretted his words the moment they left him, seeing how you were leaning on the piano for balance, shaky breaths leaving you as your eyes welled up with tears once again. 

“I know!” You blurted, “... I know,” your hand came up to wipe your tears harshly, the other hand still gripping tightly onto your clothes, “It is not flattering to be desired… whilst not being loved.” 

Youngho couldn’t help himself now, moving without hesitation as he rushed over to where you were, his hands coming to grip your shoulders, letting you lean on him as he pulled you into his arms, your hands letting go of your dress weakly and falling to your sides as you let yourself remember what it felt like to be enveloped in this protection, in this support. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hand coming up to rub your back soothingly, his hold unwavering as he waited for you to calm down. 

“Why are you doing this to me, Youngho?” Your voice was muffled through his clothing, your tears falling freely now as you cried, his hands still comforting you as he sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry for upsetting you, I didn’t mean to.” 

You frowned, daring yourself to pull away from where your head rested against his chest, looking up to meet his gaze, still wrapped in the security of his arms. 

“I’m upset… yet I don’t quite think that’s the word I’m looking for. I’m… at a loss,” you told him, seeing him press his lips into a firm line as he nodded at you slowly, prompting you to continue. 

“Having to listen to you tell me not to marry a man we both know I have no true desire to marry, that I have no affection for… it’s… Here I am, feeling chained to my guilt as a daughter yet not being able to find any part of me that is truly satisfied in making up for my guilt in this way, or fulfilling my ‘duty’ as a daughter through this obedience.” 

You swallowed, averting your gaze to glance at Youngho’s collar before bringing your gaze back up to meet his eyes, the same hazel glow in them that made you feel as though he were the sun and you were simply a sunflower, gravitating towards him. 

Youngho guided you over to the sofa near the piano, letting you sit down, one of his hands still placed protectively over your hand, something you very much appreciated, serving to ground you almost.

“I… I didn’t know what to think, you just stopped showing up and I hadn’t heard from you, I was… I was worried. And to suddenly hear that you were being courted by this man, I just couldn’t help myself,” Youngho admitted, though there wasn’t a trace of regret in his tone that he was here. He didn’t regret this. 

You sighed, the memory feeling almost fresh in your mind as you recalled it. 

“My mother wouldn’t speak to me for weeks after she found my painting, after she read what they said in the scandal sheet. Do you think I like having to be in this position? To desire to be loved by the both of you but to feel as though the two are mutually exclusive.” 

At that moment, it felt as though you were laying your heart bare to Youngho, feeling as though you were the man in the painting you saw in the church, stepping out of the safety of your boat into the raging waters because you saw the one you loved, because you heard them call you to step out, and so you did. Willing yourself to be vulnerable for this love you felt for Youngho. 

“I was upset because… well, how can you even think of asking me if this is what I want? How can you think that for a second I would want to trade you in for a man who cannot possibly compare to you?” you frowned, bewildered that he could ever think such a thing. 

“How could you think for a second that I would want to settle for that man’s corrupt desire?” you murmured, searching his gaze that you saw was growing more insistent. 

“Well, then, what if you had both? What if you had someone who both desired and loved you with their entire being?” 

You shot him a pointed look. 

You knew Youngho was one that enjoyed speaking hypothetically about things, but you didn’t think now was exactly a perfect time to be doing so. 

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you huffed, “Youngho, discussing hypotheticals is not going to make this situation any less real.” 

How could you explain this to him? It didn’t matter if it was someone who desired and loved you, you were only wishing that someone would be him. 

Youngho shook his head, eyes wide as if he were sounding out a new idea to you for his art piece, making your eyebrows lift in curiosity. 

“I know, but what if you already had someone who loved you? What if they were in front of you right now. Would that change your mind about proceeding with that man?” 

You frowned, “Youngho, would you just speak plainly with me? What is it that you are trying to say?” 

Youngho’s lips parted, huffing in amusement in spite of himself, gathering up the rest of his heart to present it to you. 

“I don’t know how much plainer I can get than…”

Youngho’s eyebrows lifted slightly, an almost pleading look to his gaze as you felt his hand squeeze yours gently. 

“Y/N, do you not see that I love you deeply?” 

There it was, the grip that caught you before you could sink into the raging waters, the security and safety that enveloped your vulnerability. 

Perhaps the question you were meant to ponder all this while wasn’t really ‘how willing were you to be vulnerable?’, but ‘how safe did you feel to be vulnerable?’. 

The answer was simple to you now as you looked at him. 

Simple, but far from simplistic. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you told him, watching how his expression softened, his hand over yours grasping onto you tighter. 

“If it’s the money your mother is worried about… I don’t care about a dowry,” he blurted, thinking off the top of his head, the sudden mention of a dowry making you laugh at the absurdity of it. 

“I know you don’t, you never had to,” you scoffed, still recovering from your amusement that he would think you cared about such a thing. 

Youngho’s eyebrows lifted slightly in question, more curious than challenging. 

“Does that fact upset you?” 

You hummed, bringing one of your hands to cover his, running your thumb over the skin of his knuckles in a way that made Youngho melt. 

“How do I explain this to you, Youngho?... You don’t care about a dowry? Quite frankly, neither do I,” you let out an amused huff, “I find myself unable to care about anything other than the fact that it was your hands, your eyes, your heart… that it was you who… let me know what it feels like to be immortalised.”

“It has ruined any chance of me considering anyone else, because if I am to be immortalised, if I am to be conveyed into art, if I am to be vulnerable, if I am to be held... I want it to happen by your hands,” your tone was firm, all the love that swelled in your heart finally making its way out of you and trying to reach his, “your hands and no one else’s, Youngho.” 

“Even now with the knowledge that you are a marquess, that fact has no weight on my decision to love you because I did not fall in love with a marquess . I fell in love with you, your soul. " 

Youngho didn’t think he was breathing. All he could focus on was your voice that rang in his head, sweeter than any melody you played on the piano, sweeter than any sound he had heard, laced with love and painting vivid colours on his heart. 

“I only ever have the privilege of one answer for the suitors I’m presented with… but it was an answer I was only ever willing, or hoping , to offer to you,” a hint of a smile played at your lips, “so, forgive me, for not caring about the dowry either.” 

Youngho’s lips parted, not finding himself thinking about his words carefully, simply letting his heart go before him in his words, his own love desperate to make its way into your heart and make a home there. 

“I brought something for you,” he began, using his free hand (simply because he did not want to let go of your hand) to reach into his coat, pulling out the leatherbound sketchbook you recognised from before. 

“Remember how I told you it was never about business to begin with?” he spoke, earning a nod from you, his fingers absently toying with the string of the worn sketchbook. 

“It’s because… I’ve seen how fickle people are. How they change the moment they find out you are of a certain status or possess certain wealth. It made me cynical for a long time,” this time, you couldn’t find it in you to look away, his gaze that was searching yours was far too beautiful to miss, “I didn’t trust people’s intentions because most of the time they really were only interested in my money or my family.” 

You nodded, prompting him to continue. 

“It’s why I never liked doing portraits,” he admitted, “they always felt cold . It was… overwhelming to me; the idea of immortalising a creature so fickle, so tainted by power and money. You could never really see the person for who they were, only the things they wanted to show off.” 

“So,” he let out a deep sigh, “I told myself that if I ever met someone who could see me as just a poor painter, with little to nothing to his name. Just me, with nothing but myself to show off, and love me in spite of that… then I’d consider. I know it doesn’t change the fact that I lied to you, but… I can’t say I regret it because you proved me wrong.” 

You felt your heart ache, wishing you could express to him just how much love you had for him, how much love he had been missing out on all this while. You wished to hold him in it for as long as you could. 

“You were the first,” he murmured, “to truly see me.” 

He pushed the sketchbook towards you, lifting your hand slightly to let it rest on the leather. 

You recalled his words, how showing you his sketchbook would be him baring his heart to you, and somehow the thought made a wave of emotion wash through you. This was his way of stepping out of the boat, rushing to you after your heart called out to him, willing himself to be vulnerable for love. 

“This,” he gestured to the sketchbook, and perhaps implied much more, “is yours now.”

Letting out a deep breath, this time his confidence showing in the firmness of his tone, the surety of his gaze, “I’ve come to realise that… it was always yours.”   

Letting go of your hands slowly, with all the reluctance in his being, he stood up, nodding resolutely more for himself than for you. 

“I should be taking my leave now… I… hope I’ve made my intentions clear.” 

And you let him leave without another word, watching as his figure disappeared out of your door, past the sunflowers in your garden that looked as though they too were reluctant for him to leave. 

Directing your gaze back to his sketchbook, you fiddled with the string, almost hesitant to open it out of a sheer want to treat it delicately. 

His sketchbook, his art, his heart that he declared was yours now, that was always yours. You saw it clearly once you undid the little knot that kept it closed. 

You saw it in the drawing of your hands on the piano keys, in the drawing of the view of your back as you walked away from him at the flower market, sunflowers peeking over your shoulder to look at him, in the drawing of your hands clasped in front of your dress holding the bundle of cloth wrapped around the honey biscuits. 

You continued to flip the pages. 

The image of your side view, playing the piano in his studio, the image of you tending to the flowers that he gave you, the view of you mulling the paint from where he sat on his stool. The view of you holding his sketches above your head as you decorated his studio. 

It was as though you were seeing yourself from his perspective, ridden with a certain affection and yearning that felt so intimate to be looking at in such a way, knowing it was his hands that had conveyed you into this… permanence. It was sureness found even in the strokes of graphite against paper. 

You dared yourself to continue to flip the pages. 

You noticed that there were even more drawings now, multiple drawings of the same memory, as if you were watching the moment happen before your eyes again. 

An image of your stocking halfway up your calf, your hands grasping it firmly by the hem. Another image of your hands around the delicate pink silk ribbon garter, in the middle of untying the garter. An image of your leg with the little sunflower on your ankle, another image of just that same sunflower alone. 

An image of you in the field with him that night, the mouth of the wine glass touching delicately against your lips, an image of the little smile you mustered after tasting the wine. An image of the smile that hardly left your face that night as you looked at him. Next to the image of your smile, a drawing of tulips. An image of his view of you as you lay your head on his lap, looking up at him, almost embarrassing you as you saw how much affection you could detect in your gaze even then. 

An image of your hand clasped around his, almost being able to remember the feel of his fingertips under your nails as you pressed them gently against his skin. An image of your eyes shut, lips gently parted, wildflowers peeking out from the grass next to your shoulders and his thigh as you waited for the feel of his lips against yours. 

The detail of your features in watercolour as you flipped the pages almost made you feel as though you were looking at a mirror. There was nothing cold about what you were looking at, but instead all the warmth that came with your soul and his, reflected on the paper. 

The whole sketchbook was filled with you, and in it, him as well. All the love he had for you in every line, in every shade, even in the pressure of his pencil against paper, in the colours that made his sketches come alive. This was his heart, for your eyes only. 

In short, you felt loved. 

Perhaps, this was it. The intangible thing you sought, love, made tangible in Youngho. 

=== 

Dancing was tricky business, as you knew. And a rule that you couldn’t help but call to mind now was that if a lady like you were to dance more than twice with the same man in the same night, or furthermore refuse to dance with any but him, you were basically announcing to the world that the both of you were engaged.

It was all that rang through your head as you stood with your sister as the viscount had just returned with drinks for the both of you, slipping off your gloves to accept the drink as you trained your gaze on where your mother was a little far off from you, seeming to be in an intense conversation with Youngho. 

“What do you suppose they’re talking about?” you whispered harshly to your sister, anxious as you watched from afar. 

Her laugh caught you off guard, turning to her with wide-eyes. 

“What else do you think they could be talking about? You don’t suppose they would be engaging in such a fervent conversation about paintings, do you?” her tone was sarcastic, laced with amusement as you frowned, huffing. 

Sure, as you watched Youngho, he looked relaxed, radiating the same calm confidence as he spoke to your mother, even smiling while your mother’s expression remained almost surprised. 

You figured that was a good sign, right? As opposed to if her expression was sour. 

“I’m trying to read his lips,” Jaehyun murmured, “but I’m absolutely certain he just said ‘you have nothing to worry about’.” 

Your eyebrows lifted. Of course it would be Youngho, saying that to your mother of all people. That was almost as good as pointing at a table and demanding for it to get up and walk.

Your mind was absolutely racing as you saw her nod, already making her way towards you, with Youngho following a few paces behind her. 

Reaching you, you exchanged a look with your sister before turning your gaze towards your mother. Jaehyun stood beside her, looking on with evident amusement at the scene playing out before him. 

Letting out a tired sigh, she lowered her voice to a murmur. 

“I do not know what it is about you that has seemed to have caught his eye,” she looked as though she were in disbelief, “But the young man was so insistent on getting my approval for him to pursue a marriage with you. Judging by his demeanour, his background, I find no complaints.” 

Your eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, glancing at Youngho who stood behind her with a certain sense of pride that glowed within you. A pride that came with knowing that this was who he was— insistent, charming, sincere— and that did not change with his social status. 

“He insists that he has already asked for your permission, is that correct?” 

You tore your gaze away from Youngho, meeting your mother’s gaze with a firmness unlike Youngho has ever seen you show your mother, his own little pride glowing in his heart as he watched you. 

“He has,” you told her, “and I have granted it to him.”

Your mother’s eyes widened just briefly, surprised at your tone, yet feeling as though she should have seen it coming at the same time. 

She simply let out a breath through her nose, nodding. 

“Then I expect you to see this through,” she told you, as though it were an instruction, “for a man with his status to be looking so favourably upon you, it is a miracle , if anything. Do not ruin this opportunity.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that played at your lips, amused at the way your mother had no idea who Youngho was, and that she would continue to have no idea that he was the same Youngho she was forbidding you to see just weeks before. And you intended for it to stay that way, yours and Youngho’s little secret. 

“Oh, don’t worry, mother. I definitely won’t.” 

Turning to give him a sweet smile, Youngho felt his heart jump in his chest as he extended a hand towards you, asking you for a dance with such politeness that it almost made you laugh. 

Following him onto the dance floor, you assumed your positions so naturally that it was a given that anyone who looked in from the outside would be able to tell that the two of you were well-acquainted.

And as you started to dance, somehow, it felt like Youngho was the only one you could focus on in the room. 

Youngho. Youngho. Youngho.

Your little mantra of love began to echo once again with each beat of your heart, begging to reach his heart that you almost didn’t notice yourself saying his name. 

Youngho smiled, a certain knowingness to his playful gaze. 

“Yes, my beloved?” 

Your lips parted, poorly hiding the way the words had sent warmth all through your body, the feeling of his hand pressing against yours as you waltzed, the intimacy of the choreography and the way he was looking at you making your head spin. 

“Beloved?” you echoed, implication behind the word making you lean into him unconsciously, burying yourself in the security you felt in his hold. 

Youngho let out an amused huff that turned into a giggle that bubbled out of him, “You sound surprised. It is no secret that I love you, Y/N.” 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“My head is spinning,” you admitted, earning a dramatic gasp from him, giving you a playful sheepish look. 

“Sorry, perhaps I dressed too nicely today,” he drawled, the teasing lilt of his tone making your smile grow. 

“Are you teasing me?” you scoffed, your smile removing any possible trace of menace. 

Youngho pressed his lips together, the softest of smiles on his face. 

“Not in the slightest bit.” 

Feigning a glare at him, it didn’t last long the longer you held his gaze, the both of you poorly stifling your joy as little giggles threatened to escape you. 

“I’m not going to impose on you,” he began, sounding breathless from barely having recovered from his bout of giggles. 

“That’s questionable,” you took your chance to quip, earning a scoff from him. 

“All I’ll say is, I’m going to ask you for a third dance. And what you choose to respond with is entirely up to you.” 

Your tongue peeked out to wet your lips, the gesture making Youngho’s gaze shift briefly from your eyes to your lips, evidently having to force himself to bring his gaze back up to your eyes, looking at you with all the affection you wished you could immortalise in a painting. 

Nodding at him, you let yourself enjoy the rest of the dance with him, smiling until your cheeks hurt. And you let it continue as he asked you for a third dance, the both of you not giving it a second thought as you continued to relish in each other’s presence, in each other’s touch, in each other’s love. 

Oblivious to the murmurs and gossip that the both of you were inciting, you were only able to focus on him and him on you, protected and enveloped in the love you both shared no matter how exposed you felt in the room, just as how it should’ve always been. 

Conduct books be damned, here you were, simply a lady in love. 

[protectbnhaboysatallcost]

bf!Hitoshi | hc's

a/n: AHHH I LOVE SHINSO SO MUCH 💖💖💖💖💖

gives you his sweaters to see you in them.

wraps his arm around you all the time, in public at home, in the pool, everywhere.

he just likes being near you <3

makes you choose movies to watch bc he’s scared he’ll pick a boring one.

if his listening to music he'll give you an airpod and his phone so you can play something you like.

gives you bites of whatever he's eating.

would sell his left arm just to cuddle with you in the afternoon.

or morning.

or night.

likes using pickup lines on you just bc he thinks your giggle is cute.

"Baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print."

buys you little things whenever he goes to the store, just like "(y/n) likes (fav candy)...*grabs*"

wraps you up in a blanket and sets you on his lap.

takes you to cat cafes all the time.

favorite date in the fall, warm drinks and cuddly kitties. <3

if you're one of those people who loves making hot drinks but never drinks them (me, i am people) he will drink it.

when y'all are walking home in the winter and you're cold he'll grab your hand and put it in his pocket.

loves cooking for you.

especially if you sitting on the counter, talking about your day.

he really listens too

"she did what?? what did you say?"

oh man he loves drama too

if yall are in the store and you're like. "omg that's (blank), they're the one that copied my haircut."

he'll look at them in disgust. "they look like a 90s cartoon character." (we're talking like thornberry's y'all)

" 'Toshi!" "it's true"

love love loves if you praise him in any way.

"saw you on the news today, you looked pprreettyy hot mr.hero."

marry him, right then and there.

likes it when you fall asleep on him, makes him feel like you trust him a lot.

if you ask him how your outfit looks.

"gorgeous, damn, i don't even think you can go outside lookin' like that baby. gonna breaks some necks."

so supportive of you too.

he knows that if he just had someone in middle school tell him he was worth it would have changed his life so he makes sure you don't ever feel like that in anything.

asks are open :)

[theunfortunateplace]

Homecoming (Namor X Black OC) Chapter 4

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Description: After being away from home for so many years due to school keeping Adella busy she's finally able to go home after her hard work pays off but what she didn't expect was such an eventful homecoming.

Words couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling. It wasn't that I didn't believe him, but it was surreal seeing everything for the first time.

People were swimming around going about their day and duties as a community Everyone we passed by made sure to wave or say hello. Even the little kids had their fair share of words to say to him and he listened to every one of them. dipping around multiple corners my eyes grow wide. He looked over at me and smiled.“That's the same face I made when I first discovered this place.”

Beautiful vibrant coral perfectly intact and healthy. Fishes swimming around and other sea life playing with each other it was hard to contain my smile. This is what I live for even with scuba diving. I was never able to achieve this depth but now I can fishes I’ve never even seen before passed by me. I'm shocked, I can’t believe what I’m actually seeing

“ I wish I had a camera to take pictures this is too beautiful K'uk'ulkan!” I swam over to the fish playing and they instantly swarm around me causing multiple giggles to come out. I felt his eyes watching me as I reached out to pet one of the fish.

“We can go up tomorrow.”

“Que?” I turned my head and he playfully scoffed.

“ I said we can go up tomorrow on the surface. As much as I want you here I know that if I keep you here for too long you’ll go crazy.” He smirked while watching my reaction. I smiled and went back to playing with the different fishes

“Good! Because I have some stuff to sort out.”

-

“ I don’t know how you surface dwellers deal with all of this fabric?” He complained while fixing his shorts. “It's not even a lot you’re acting like I put you in a suit!” I chuckled as I sorted out my necessities. He walked over to where I was squatting and I could tell he was confused by some of the things I had.

“ ask your questions I can feel your thoughts stabbing me.”

“What are those things in that container? Can I have one?” The only thing I could see him asking about was the-

“These?” I turned back while holding it in my hand and he reached for it. But I quickly moved my hand.

“It’s not candy it’s my birth control. That I’m extremely behind on.” I sighed and popped one out then grabbed the water on the nightstand.

“Why do you need that?” I gulp down the pill and raised a brow while I looked at him. “It’s to help my periods and it helps prevent pregnancy.” He hummed and began to look around my room while I gathered my stuff.

“ I didn't know you had issues with that. I'll let the doctor know she has lots of herbs that can help… what's this?”

I continued to rummage through my belongings and let out a slight chuckle. “ I don't want to sound like a nonbeliever K'uk'ulkan but I’ve tried every remedy out there to help and those pills are the only thing that has-” I slowly look up to see what he was talking about seeing as how I’m still occupied. I let out a sharp yelp and jumped on my feet to stanch the thing out of his hands.

“How- how did you find that I had that well hidden?” he scoffed and raised a brow. “Well hidden my ass and judging by your reaction it's something naughty.” He smirked mischievously

“Yall don't have sex toys down there- I'm a grown-ass woman. What does it matter if it’s naughty?” I rolled my eyes and stuffed the dildo into my bag along with the other toys I had under my bed.

“ That thing is nothing compared to the real thing my queen.” My mouth hung open from his boldness but I quickly grabbed the pillow from my bed and threw it at him. But he quickly caught it

“ I can’t believe I’m married to such a perverted man!” He laughed while going to lie down on my bed.

I let out a sharp gasp and ran to the kitchen whipping open the fridge. I fall to my knees and slap the floor as if someone told me a person close to me died.

I soon heard footsteps join me in the kitchen

“Is this how all surface dwellers open their fridge?” I lift my head up and point my finger at him while furrowing my eyebrows.

“You! You had this all planned out huh? I told you not to eat my tres leches so you lured me out into the ocean by planting those fishes and trained the shark to attack me!” He looked down at me and rolled his eyes then suddenly he jumped in a rather cartoonish way and held his hands out

“Oh my queen, you caught me. I’ll never be able to forgive myself!” He said dramatically. I squinted my eyes I really wanted to take the fridge door and hit him with it. Kept me down there all this time now my damn tres leches has to go in the garbage AAAAAAH this man is cruel

“You owe me!”

It didn’t take long for me to pack my things up but instead of going back, I insisted I show him around, “I thought you said we were just going to get food…this.” He said gesturing to the people dancing on the floor, “this is a party.”

I nod my head and pass him a drink while downing mine. “Yes, and what better way to celebrate my short return home than good food, music, drinks, and dancing? Gosh, I haven’t felt this alive in months.” I smiled widely while shimmying my shoulder, reaching over to grab the fried shrimp appetizer

I moaned out in satisfaction as the seasonings danced on my tongue. “Can we visit my tio and Tia?” He nodded as he reached in the basket of food. “ I’m telling you this now I can’t shield you from anything that happens when we go,” I warned while holding my hands up.

He scoffed and raised a brow. “ I’m not scared of someone I’m much older than.”

“HA you are funny… when she finds out you wasted my tres leches I’ll give you one second to leave the room.” I signaled for the bartender to bring more drinks over

“But you wouldn’t do that to your poor husband huh?” I scoffed and looked him in the eyes

“You should have thought of that when let it spoil.”

“ Maybe if you offered to share-“

I slapped the table and gasped he did it on purpose. “You little! So you DELIBERATELY made it go bad because you couldn’t have any?” I shook my head and huffed, “You are very lucky I’m wearing sneakers or else something would have been thrown at YOUR HEAD!”He laughed and finally shot back the drink sitting in front of him. “You would be walking home without shoes, my love.”I rolled my eyes, “so it's not the first time I’ve had to walk home barefoot!” I have walked these roads many times with no shoes And almost all of them were unintentional. “ I can’t believe you would let your husband-“ I held my hand up stopping him mid-sentence.“ I don’t want to hear it, it is better you learn now not to mess with my food!” He scoffed and took another piece from the basket. “Is this what I will have to deal with when you are pregnant? Just food crazy and a hand itching to throw something at me?” My eyes grow wide at the off-guard comment but I quickly shake my head.

“Maybe if you don’t eat my food then you won’t have to worry about that!” He rolled his eyes. I throw back the new drink and my eyes go wide when I hear the song change. I hopped down from my chair and he raised a brow confused about what was happening.

“Come on! I have to dance to this song.” He smirked as I looked back while dragging him to the dance floor. Only hesitation could be found on his face. “Just follow the beat… watch me.” I smiled while turning so that my back faced him once again and reached back so that my other hand held onto his. I closed my eyes briefly trying to catch the beat and started moving my hips once I figured out the tempo.

The gap between us closed quickly letting me know he understood. I leaned my head back so it lightly rested on his chest as our bodies moved in sync . With him ever so often dipping his lead to meet my neck as if he were asking for something “Mmm so this is why you wanted me to come and dance?” He said cheekily. I smirked as his hands roamed my body. “Would you rather I do this with someone else my king?” He gripped my waist as I whined my waist into him. “The day a man tries to do that he will be meeting his ancestors, my queen.” He nipped my ear and let out a soft gasp not realizing he would do such a thing in public.” and I would have to punish you.” I smirked Punish me? Yeah okay “ I’m sure you have danced with many women like this,” I smirked as his hands snaked up to my neck itching to grip my throat. “ No such movements are not used….especially in public.” I pulled away slightly only far enough for him to see my body in full and decided to play a game that would probably send me to my grave early. I followed the slowed beat and matched my hips making sure to make eye contact with him as I turned around. Those sweet brown eyes were filled with nothing but lust. Staring at me as if I was prey as if he wanted to devour every bit of me. He pulled me closer urgently. “ you find enjoyment in this?” I scoffed as I ground against him. Making sure to add emphasis when my ass grazed his crotch. He grunted out promptly mumbling something under his breath while gripping my hips to stay still. “Why don’t you show me what the real thing feels like K'uk'ulkan?” I said breathlessly trying to entice him more

“Is that what you want In yakunaj? You want me to fuck you?” I couldn’t resist letting out a quiet moan as his soft plump lips met with my neck nipping it with his teeth as he pulled away. I swiftly turned around and wrapped my hands around his neck quickly connecting our lips.

I was so lost in the cloud of lust I hadn’t realized we managed to make it home. It wasn’t until my back was pressed against the door. We pulled away and I cursed under my breath, hating the lost heat. I pulled the keys out of my side pocket and almost broke the damn key from how fast I was trying to open the door.

I kicked my shoes off once we got inside and our lips connected again. I let out a shriek as he lifted me up causing him to smirk again my lips. He pushed the door open and swiftly laid me on the bed. I moaned as his bulge pressed against my warmth. Making me clench on nothing as if it were calling out for him to stick his cock in me.“Please.” I pulled at the hem of his shirt. I needed this off I needed him now. He pressed his forehead against mine, “I need to prepare you In yakunaj.” I whined and wrapped my legs around him. “ I want you.” I never begged but this man could have me on my knees if he wanted. He pulled my bottoms off and smirked. As gasped as his finger grazed my sensitive clit through my panties. “Be patient.”

I yelped as he yanked my panties off and sucked on my clit. I tried pulling away from the intense feeling but his hands gripped my hips and pulled me back to his face. “F-Fuck” I grabbed his hair as he slid two fingers in me curling his fingers up, playing with my g-spot “and you wanted me to just stick my cock in you?” I clenched around his fingers as he sped up. I could tell by his deepened voice he was smirking trying to figure out all the ways to make me come undone without me. “You're tutoring me” he mischievously chuckled and “this is only the beginning.” I felt his breath against the side of my neck causing a shiver to travel down my spine. As I go to buck my hips up requesting more he pulls out.

I let out an annoyed whine and he smirked “ I'm not going to let you cum just from my fingers… though I know I could make you cum several times….” he grabbed my chin and turned my face so that our eyes met “ noooo I’m going to make you cum from my cock. I'm going to fill every single inch of your pussy up.” He said tauntingly. I can't take it anymore either you stick your fingers back in me or I'm going to go mad.

I let out a sharp gasp as he rubbed the head of his cock over my slit while teasingly pushing in me. “ P-Pleeease K'uk'ulkan-aah I want you inside me please fuck me p-” He slowly pushed into me and I couldn’t help but bite my lip and wrap my legs around him. “Fuuck why are you so big!” I whine as he continues to push in. “You wanted me to fuck you so badly and didn’t listen to what I said about properly preparing you.” His hand caressed the side of my face as he leaned down to meet my lips.

Finally bottoming out he groaned. “Let me take care of you my queen.” I pulled for him to be closer and he kissed my neck obeying my request. K'uk'ulkan finally started to move his hip rhythmically and I couldn’t hold back my moans. No one and I mean no one I’ve ever had sex with fucked me like this before. My body was on fire everything was sensitive there was no way I was going to last long. But judging how he was moaning into my neck and whispering nothing but dirty things he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. I clench down at the thought of him fucking me to the verge of overstimulation. He seems like the type to make you beg for it even when you wanted to tap out. “Fuck Adella! Stop doing that!” He practically growled out but that didn’t help his case it was only turning me on more. He cursed under his breath and gripped my throat, staring directly into my eyes while rolling his hips aggressively into me. The sound of my squelching pussy and his grunt alone could push me over the edge. “Don't you dare cum yet!” He squeezed my throat a little harder making me moan out. “When I fill the pretty little pussy up with my cum then you can okay.” He sped up his pace and I gripped his arm trying to withhold from cumming. He dipped his head lower to near my ear and nipped it, “does that turn you on little one?” He aggressively kissed my lip now rutting into me trying to get deeper than he always was. “Hm the thought of me putting a baby in you huh?” No matter how hard I tried words didn’t come out only my loud moans and the aggressive creak of the bed that was bound to break and second now.

“Words my love!” He demanded as he pounded into me. “FUCK YES I-I WANT YOU TO CUM IN MEEE BR-BREED ME,” I screamed not being able to stop my orgasm from coming. I felt his smirk against my cheek as he released my neck. He lifted my hips up angling his cock to my Gspot and relentlessly pounded into it. I clenched down hard as the pressure built up, causing him to curse from the tightest. I go to reach for him to come back closer to me but I’m flung back with an overwhelming electrifying orgasm.

I felt a gush of liquid run down making him breathlessly chuckle. But that soon turned into him moaning gripping my hips as he emptied his hot thick cum into me. Not even with a second to spare he lifted me up and put me on top with his cock still in me. I tensed up thinking he was about to go for another round but he kissed more forehead and pushed my head back down. “Let's just stay like this for a bit.”

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[hallmarkspeedreviews]

The Scottish Love Scheme

* Is this about to be another movie where a person is very much and obviously American but I’m meant to believe they are from somewhere else

* So her mom’s is def dying, right?

* Ten bucks that’s why they break up in the third act

* Divorcee who isn’t pissed at her ex? Hate it. I like having an ex to hate

* Her mom isn’t good at keeping people from knowing she’s dead

* I had to turn on the subtitles

* What am I meant to believe this relationship is? Childhood friends? If so, I must ask once again: why does she sound American?!?

* I love old people. Just living life.

* Another dog!

* This conundrum being a marketing issue is funny.

* I’m sure promising honesty and transparency won’t blow up in either of their faces.

* Not he forgot to sign the rugby tryouts slip!!! He tryna ruin this boy’s life!

* A pair of meddling moms? Love it.

* Ahhh. So the moms are the schemers

* Where is this third brother?

* Also, why does he think Lily knows her mom is dying? do men not listen to anything they hear?

* We stan emotionally intelligent Scottish men!

* Ah yes…the random gay brother. A cherished hallmark staple.

* These moms are funny. If I was dying I would ALSO be in everyone’s business

* Naughty fun?! In this economy?!

* Oh she wearing the fuck outta that dress

* A brewer who doesn’t drink? Fascinating

* Maiden, mother, and crone? I’m the crone for sure.

* They’re not doing a great job reminding us that these two people know each other

* God, I wanna be old meddling white woman. They are living life exactly as they should be.

* What a bunch hater ass Europeans. These people won’t let this poor lady cheer?! This baby is playing his heart out!!

* “Delicious accent” alright…yall doing a lot.

* “Enjoy the company of a good man” is the kind of shit I would say if I was dying.

* If her mother dies on this trip I’m calling hallmark in the morning

* “You deserve to be spoiled.” C’mon sir!!!

* Oh, so now you can cheer?! A bunch of haters

* my heart strings? consider them pulled

* I understand every third word this kid says. And I’m West Indian

* This movie is just a lady living her best Scottish romance dream. Good for her.

* This man woulda got me caught up. I can’t lie.

* “I’m in awe of you!!!???” This movie gonna end me. I will fucking weep.

* Girl. Spain ain’t going nowhere. Marry this man and stop playing with me.

* “You didn’t say anything?” maam. Maam.

* These people are annoying. Her mama is dying. She gonna know eventually!!

* They legit kept terminal liver cancer from this lady?! Wild.

* This movie is so damn cute. If they show her mother’s funeral imma weep.

* Listen…hallmark spent money on real ACTORS

* A pocket guide to Spanish?! This is too sweet

* Hallmark said “wanna cry for 40 mins?”

* “Whatever you need…I am here…” nah. I love him.

* There is such good romance in a check kiss.

* Taking off the ring? I’m a puddle on the floor

* These Scottish men planning a perfect day for a dying old lady?!? Please kill me here 🥹😫🥹

* “Let me help you build it back up again” yall will make me weep.

* This is too much.

I am crying as I write this. This movie was so damn good. Truly this is the, if not one of the best Hallmark movies I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen hundreds.

9.5/10 - Almost perfect

[madalice31]

People are so fucking weird and backwards.

Folks flipped the fuck out when Millie Bobbie Brown got engaged at 19. There was so much backlash talking about how she was “too young” to be engaged. But oh it’s quite alright for Halle Bailey to be a baby mama at 22.

20 something maybe too young to get married but certainly not too young to have a kid. Smh. Y’all gurls really THIS okay with baby mama culture huh? I remember when our community (the black community) was looked down on for being a baby mama. But Kylie came around and made it cool? I swear yall sling the word woke around a lot but everyone is still sleep.

Like the comments about people “hating” on young mothers? Can we get real? At least Millie’s boyfriend proved his commitment to her by proposing BEFORE knocking her up.

DDG has been playing throughout his relationship with Halle. The drama with his ex. Like are we really gonna ignore the red flag that he dived straight into his exs DMs the moment he had a disagreement with Halle? That’s how you resolve the issues in your relationship bro? Oh he thinks because he can take her on shopping sprees (that she can fucking take herself on) that’s more than enough to be a good man 🙄. The song talking about him being jealous of her career and sabotaging it. Knocking her up don’t sound like sabotage to yall? And he love calling her “the Mrs” but he was not as quick to put a ring on her finger as he was to raw dog it. And now, after the fact, y’all see him rushing to Zales or Jarred? 🙄 she ain’t even said she loved him until she started dressing differently. Aka until she knew she was pregnant. Now suddenly he the love of your life. Smh. I don’t blame Halle. She’s young. I’m just wondering where her team at? Where Chloe at? If I’m being honest, that’s who I would have expected to pop up pregnant. I mean every song is about getting her back blown out. Seems like she was ready for these streets lol. But truly, did no one have a conversation with Halle to not take her first real relationship too seriously, especially when she’s at the start of her career? ESPECIALLY when he’s such a cornball? I didn’t know who he was until she started dating him. Someone said he got his family out the hood with YT. I’m sorry, since when is that a unique story? Plenty people in this day and age have been able to achieve that, doesn’t take away the fact that they problematic if they are.

I mean someone else said, she’s still Halle. She’s still gonna be booked. It’s not 1964. No it’s not. But women aren’t even allowed to have abortions now, remember? We don’t have governance over our OWN bodies in 2023. This false sense of progression we have as a society is truly concerning. And I mean honestly, maybe for a Millie, it wouldn’t have that much of an effect on her career if it happened to her. Maaaybe. But for a Halle? We already got to fight for a seat at the table. They will use any and every excuse to take that seat from you, no matter how much they claim to like you.

Halle’s career is about to come to a standstill. I don’t know her so I don’t know how she feels about it. But there’s a reason young actresses and singers try to avoid pregnancy when their careers are just starting to take off. Hell just women who have regular careers outside of the spotlight avoid pregnancy early in their lives because as much as people like to act like it’s nothing to have a baby, it’s life changing in a way that no one really talks about or no one really digests.

And now Disney has already removed their submission for her to be considered for best original song for the Little Mermaid. That could have at least been her first Oscar nomination. But we all know Disney don’t play about their image and even tho she’s 22 and not 16, they’re gonna distance themselves. Yeah, it’s not 1964 alright. And I’m sure that’s one of many opportunities she will lose out on.

No judgment tho. I wish her the best and I hope he does right by her. I’m sure she will still be successful but I doubt her success will look the same and that’s the part I wish folks would keep it real about.

All the while I’m wondering where Ms “mentor” Beyonce is. 👀 too busy cheesing with Taylor Swift of all people. Smh. Let me not get started.

[ayoharuko]

Genshin Impact Bf Headcanons

 Hi everyone I'm back yay!😊

I'm feeling a bit better so i decided to just make a part 2 instead of snoozing around....

I hope u guys enjoy this part and I'm sorry for the wrong spelling or bad Grammer.

I also apologize if the headcanons are a bit occ or not canon at all these are headcanons after all. i wrote this on my laptop

Also one more thing I'll apologize for is sometimes the writing style will change like last time it might look nice and now its....just a bit not nice?? Does that make sense? sorry sorry I'm getting side tracked....

I just had my adhd moment−

oh even if i wanted to copy the same style as i did last time I'm too lazy to check the last post probably cause I'm derived of sleep and surviving with coffee ok fr imma stop-

REMINDER: All these characters belong to hoyoverse and does not belong to me (•ˋ _ ˊ•)

Anywaysss hope u enjoy this!

(Liyue Boys)

~Ajax my boi~ (Childe, Tartagila)

~Possessive Boyfriend~

• I had a debate between possessive or overprotective since he's technically both, a cunning fox and a blood thirsty wolf, but possessive takes the cake for me hahaha

• He doesn't like people's eyes on you. makes him jealous but he also likes peoples eyes on you. makes him prideful to show off that your he's

• Definitely leaves marks on you like obvious places too!

• If you fight or have a vision and can fight expect him to train with you, help you with your tasks and spar aka fight with you just to see who's stronger lmao

• Buys you expensive gifts when he's away(That fatui money yuh~✨)

• PLEASE BE CAREFUL NOT TO MAKE HIM JEALOUS. i feel like if he gets like really jealous your walking card....gone bish✨ and that person ✨G O N E✨

• Like when you met traveler he full on THOUGHT that were flirting with you and actually kind off threatened them-

• He siblings/family already adore you even if they haven't met you yet, they just know your a very nice person because of what teucer tells them!

• Speaking of teucer.....he probably loves you more then he's big brother....lol jk..or maybe...? But teucer loves you a lot since he sees you make he's big brother really happy all the time and also because your very nice and play with him a lot! This makes childe very happy since he knows he doesn't have to worry about he's siblings hating you.

• If you can't cook expect him to cook breakfast or dinner and also if he's free and yall live together he could also clean the house if you want~

• He always has hearts in he's eyes whenever you guys are together and for once the people around him and see a Slight sparkle in he's eyes

•  He's your overprotective but possessive wolf and he would go crazy if something happens to you...

• You guys go on dinner dates especially if your both are in Snezhnaya

• He kinda keeps you a secret from the fatui but sometimes he can't help but brag about you still being careful with he's word of course 

• He loves you...a lot...but sometimes it can be... a little....crazy

Nicknames: Mine, Babe and baby

Voice line about you: Heyyy there comrade! I see your getting quite comfy with y/n over there....what nono..I'm not assuming you of anything I'm jjust gonna let you know their mine....alright? Good! dont want you sealing them now haha!

When he talks to you: Hiya babe~ what? You didn't like the way i talked to traveler? oh come on the were sealing all your attention from me tho~!

~Old Man Morax~ (Zhongli)

~Gentleman boyfriend~

• I don't imagine him as a jealous or possessive person since he's lived through so many years he probably has high patience. However doesn't mean he's not  overprotective since he's basically lost a lot of things in he's life he always make sure your safe, your eating well, water etc always cares about your health.

• Hu tao at one point has told you both that you remind her of an old married couple....and i think she's right-

• He wakes up before you and prepares you both tea not before admiring your sleepy face of course❣

• Cooks breakfast(Imagine him in an apron😫)for you both and cleans you guys house when your at work just him being a malewife🥺

• Would always open doors for you, buy you flowers(When he has mora) and buys you thinks when he's out in liyue(Again if he has mora otherwise its childes-)

• When you first made him lunch as a surprise at work he had the most heart warming smile ever like smiling while eating the food you cooked and just praising you constantly as well. Hu tao was jealous you didn't make her lunch lol

• At one point of you guys relationship he told the whole truth about him being an ex-god and even showed he's dragon form just so you would believe him.... and thank the archons you still accepted him for who he was and loved him...

• Sometimes when you guys are at the comfort of your house he lets out he's horns and tail so you can pet or touch them which he likes very much and you end up with a big dragon on you-

• Xiao has definitely been watching over you and zhongli knows it...he's grateful that even if he's not present xiao will be the one to watch over you🥺😭

• You guys would be outside at the sunset enjoying your tea and just overall chilling...those are he's favorite moments with you❤

• You guys can be found strolling around liyue just looking at the beautiful city

• He appreciates how you try and listen to he's tales even if he knows that some of them are boring and makes you fall asleep but he still appreciates in you trying to listen.

• Arguments would almost never happen in your relationship of course excluding you guys disagreements but zhongli tries to avoid arguing with you since he hates yelling and overall just hates seeing you mad.

• Even in a million years he would never stop being over in heels inlove with you💕

Nicknames: My gem, dear and my beloved

Voice line about you: “Hm...traveler..would you perhaps think that this would look nice on y/n? You think it would? Alright then I'll be taking this then. What? Oh...m-mora i..uhm..forgot my wallet again it seems...apologies..I'll pay you back traveler”

When he talks to you: “Dear i must thank you for this....it tastes marvelous”

~Baby Xiao~ (Alatus)

~Shy But Overprotective Boyfriend~

• He's both shy but very overprotective of you. Like he thinks your made of glass so he always watches you. minus when he has to go fight demons at night of course, but he always wants you to stay at the hotel when its night time since he knows how dangerous it is when its night time at liyue. if you have errand to do however...except him to come with you even if he hates large crowds.

• He'll only come and see you when you bring him food or call out he's name. and that was at like at least a few months into your relationship with him. The reason for this is because he doesn't want he's karma to affect you since your the only light he has.

• He only eats whatever you cook as he thinks their exceptional to he's taste. girl he actually thinks your cooking is delicious thats why lol

• He LOVES headpats and LOVES kisses on the forehead. FIGHT ME I DARE YOU🙂

• When you hug him he turns red in an instant and then relaxes but sometimes(Sadly) pushes you off of him...since he's too scare of he's karma going to you😭, meaning he's always running away from you....

• But there are sometimes when you convince him to stay...and when he does stay...he lets you do whatever you please with him. Thats including kisses, reassurance, comfort and cuddles for the baby💕

• If you get hurt he instantly blames himself. So you have to reassure him that it isn't he's fault whatsoever.

• He brings you Qingxin flowers he's favorite flowers and leaves it at your nightstand if you live in the hotel its a reminder from him to you that he loves you and that he always watches over you.

• At every affection you give him it doesn't matter if big or small he always turns red since that how much he had fallen for you. 

• Ya know you'll feel like you have a guard dog always watching you....in a good way

• Always dreads the day you'll have to leave him...he knows your a mortal...he knows their fragile and weak...but he just doesn't wanna let you go...your he's only weakness and the only one who shows he's love for.

Nicknames: My light(Rarely)

Voice line about you: “What? I'm not looking at y/n...your simply imagining....”

When he talks to you: “You called? H-huh? Cuddles? I suppose it won't hurt...just this once...I'll humor you..you mortal”

~Bookworm Boi~ (Xingqiu)

~Prince Boyfriend~ 

• He might act like a prince but he is still a bookworm...but we love he's nerdy side so thats fine!

• Since xingqiu’s basically rich he definitely knows how to act like a gentleman...although before he fall inlove with you i like to think he had ignored every person who he's family set him up with..so they were surprised to find out that he suddenly took an interest in you.

• There are sometimes where he pays more attention to he's books more then you but please dont worry he loves you😊

• Buys books that he thinks makes you think of him. i mean he does have the money-

• He thought of a love story that was about you both and wrote it down...but writing it down poor Chongyun had to since our water boi’s hand-writing sucks, but it was worth it since it was very romantic and cute⁓

• He also writes poems about you and then read them to you in the afternoon under a tree while your napping either on he's shoulder or lap.

• Compliments everyday baby💕

• HE'S A MF TEASE. like you see the pranks or things he does to poor Chongyun?? I feel bad for you both😔

• When he's not occupy with a book you both are walking around liyue either buying things at stalls, books or food really anything he's down.

• Yelan watches over you both. like sometimes she'll treat you both to a restaurant and she'll sit in another table while you both have your meal(She pays for it too)Basically she observers how you both interact with each other and finds you both cute🥺

• Overall he's a real prince to you minus being a bookworm

Nicknames: My liege and love

Voice line about you: “This book reminds me of them....lets buy it”

When he talks to you: “Hm? You would like my attention? Hehe...alright then my liege..I'll give you what you want~”

~Precious Exorcist~ (Chongyun)

~Shy Boyfriend~

• Now him...he's 100% baby

• Whenever you touch him he short circuits. My boi knows nothing about girls-. Xinyan or yun jin obviously don't count, When we're talking about periods...its a different story....

• But he's very sweet and cares for you!, always senses when your upset/sad and immediately tries to cheer you up.

• Your he's meat shied if xingqiu comes looking for him...he tries to avoid he's friend quite a lot.

• Xingqui teases you both well mainly chongyung about how much he's a simp for you hehe...

• He always stutters when he talks to you. with the blush too!

• He's always on a look out for evil spirits or demons since he wants to protect you. When you have a nightmare he blames it on demons and he's dislike towards them increases.

• Like how yelan would watch over you and xingqiu. Shenhe watches over the both of you as a protector since she knows that chongyung still has a lot to learn and even if doesn't wanna admit it...she worries for you both.

• Shares he's popsicles with you💘

Nicknames:(Sadly no nickname he's too shy yall)

Voice line about you: “I-i get it now xingqui! g-geez...i..love them..a lot..”

When he talks to you: “H-how are you? O-oh fine? thats good...uhm..would you like to go to xinyan’s concert tomorrow?”

And that concludes our liyue boys!

tysm for reading this far everyone and again I'm sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes o(*￣▽￣*)ブ

I hope u guys enjoyed this one my brain kinda hurtled from thinking this much headcanons lol

But it was worth it I'm proud to have finish part 2!. Now part 3 will be maybe after a few days and its the inazuma boys this time yay💕

But yea tysm for reading this far everyone mua mua~!💕✨

[the-gay-trashmouth]

Okay so I binged q-force. Is it perfect? No. No its not- it's a comedy adult cartoon about gay spies. It was funny, it had that found family trope and it had it good rep. It had butch 4 butch rep (pam and Deb my loves) trans goth chicks, and even an older women in power who I have a permanent lesbian crush on. I see a lot of people complaining about the stereotypes - mostly Twink- but like.... Y'all realize stereotypical gay people exist, right? Like there are butch lesbians who BBQ on weekends and adopt way to many dogs. There are drag queens who are super extra and loud and sexual. There are alt queer people who like obscure shit and would maybe like to fuck robots- shut up

Like ... Gay people are allowed to act gay. Y'all know that right? Gay culture is built on the "weird". Q force gave us stereotypes but also broke them.

Twink is a top who can throw a punch and is fucking badass. His drag connections come in handy and offers them tons of Intel. I've seen people talk about how it's bad that he wants to be skinny but.... Yall know some people Wanna be skinny? And that's not a bad thing??? Like yeah it can be unhealthy but he never once commented on anyone else's weight negatively- and we had a diverse body types. Just in the force we had a muscle vers, a fat stud lesbian, a tall lanky hacker, a slim thicc drag queen, a chubby hunk, and a middle aged woman with actual proportions. Could I have done without some of the tummy tuck jokes? Yeah, sure, but y'all realize actual queens talk like that.

Then we have Deb- the only character with her life together. She and her wife are very very happy and secure and its like... One of the first butch 4 butch relationship I've seen on screen that healthy. She's a mechanic and was on surviver but she's also the mom of the group. She's in touch with her emotions, she rescues dogs, her happy place is on the phone with her wife- she is a black stud lesbian and she's not a cold mean shell of a person. How often do y'all see that????

And then Stat- STAT! she's weird!! And that's the point! She likes being weird!! She's a trans hacker badass and she fucked an AI!! She's herself and unapologetically so. While affection and emotions make her uncomfortable she's still the one to go after Twink on his birthday. She cares about them all, even in her weird goth way. Shes good rep for those of us who are the "ugly alt queer" people love to make fun of. And the force loves her and her weirdness! Her and twink- two characters on complete opposite sides of the stereotype spectrum- are like best friends. They could of had them hate each other but they don't! He loves her and her weird goth vibes, she doesn't understand his scene but loves him and his drag and never says a damn word. Also!! Her VA is a trans woman!!!!

And fucking Steve- he's the cis het ideal. Strong, masc, average gay man. He could pass as straight- but he doesn't?? He has a boyfriend (who isnt some fuckin super model with the same body- he's a shy bear with glasses and a suffocatingly loving family- also!!! No homophobic family side plot???? Unheard of!!!!) and half of his arc is trying to be there For Him. He's not some hyper masc guy who "happens to be gay but everyones surprised" There is no sub plot of him hiding himself or "being seen as het" he's just a vers with a dorky sense of humor and has a little gaggle of gays (plus buck) that he's adopted and co-parenting with his butch lesbian best friend. Also wlw mlm solidarity!!! Holy shit!!!! that's rare!!!!

Even Buck- who's prolly bi let's be real- goes through an arc and isnt a 2D prick- he loves those gays like family by the end. And that's the end message- community in each other and loving your fellow queer people. There's no fighting between them about being a stereotype. No one makes fun on Twink for being femme, every one gets so happy when Stat smiles, Pam and Deb are happily married and Pam automatically takes her wife's little gay family from work and goes "I love them :))) you should bring them over more."

No its not perfect- I wish there was more open trans rep and nb rep, I wish there was some ace aro rep and I wish there was less animated dick and I could do without some if the skinny jokes Twink made but y'all realize rep isn't ever gonna be perfect? Gay ppl aren't perfect. Gay people are allowed to be stereotypes and the amount of LGBTQ people who worked on the show made it realistic. There was never a point that I was like "this was written by straight people".

Y'all shot down a funny, well written comedy cartoon made by the gays for the gays and hate it because there's a femme drag queen? There's stereotypes?? We're never going to get good rep if y'all crucify everything we do get. That's not saying don't be critical, but don't attack queer writers and what little rep we have because it's not the perfect cookie cutter shape for gays.

[thenon-fictiondays]

ok i know I've never posted anything about this fandom before but i know there's a lot of confusion in the sabikui fandom about who the kid on the cover of volume 8 is and im doing some digging so lemme take yall on a JOURNEY (spoilers for LN obvs)

so I know a lot of people have been hoping that this kid is a Milo-Bisco Iovechild and pointing out stuff like the blue highlights in the kid's hair, and referencing sources saying they raise a child together. This post may come as a bit of a disappointment in some ways particular for the shippers but like....I promise that whatever you're imagining, this is gonna be a wild ride.

so I was looking at some stuff online and came across an article on some of the plot points from the novel according to some of the readers (meaning ofc that the info is only as accurate as the readers' interpretation and translation skills) that Bisco and Pawoo get married and have a kid. Presumably, this kid

given that she looks exactly like Bisco and her name is listed as Akaboshi Sugar. So I was just assuming that she's Bisco and Pawoo's kid and Milo helps Bisco raise her bc.....thats what makes the most sense?? So when the sources said 'Bisco and Milo's child' what they meant was the child that they raise together. BUT. I was talking to my friend about it bc she's the one who dragged me into this fandom, and she found a summary of the volume in jpn. Now, the summary states that Pawoo is pregnant.......but it also explicitly states that Milo delivers a baby. It doesnt just say that they HAVE a kid, it says that Milo gives birth. Cue me and my friend losing our minds.

but wait there's more!

after we're done freaking out in DMs Im going about my day but in my head is just wtf wtf Milo has a baby wtf and then 3 hours later it hits me

yeah, Im dumb. this makes 8000x more sense. (But like....the word the desc used is 出産 and I've never seen that used to describe someone else helping someone to deliver a baby.) My friend and I are debating, she thinks that the kid might belong to the other Akaboshi (sexy dreds lady pictured above), I think its Pawoo's and Bisco's and we got queerbaited hard. My friend does some more digging and finds a reddit thread with commenters saying it actually IS Milo's kid via some kinda mushroom magic. I'm like please god let this be true I want this to be true so bad. but at the same time.....this is still shounen and I'm 99.99% sure society hasnt advanced far enough to allow this level of queerness in shounen. At this point we're like, okay we gotta read the novel and find out wtf is going on. So my friend bought it online and I get to work reading (ok, skimming).

First thing of note: Pawoo is indeed pregnant with Bisco's child...and by child I mean mushroom half-god half-human. Don't ask me what this means or how it works.

Second thing of note: Milo asks Akutagawa for baby names (this actually has nothing to do with anything i just thought it was really cute jdhjsjk)

at this point im like ok cool whatever the mushroom magic probs refers to the apparently super-powered mushroom baby Pawoo is carrying. Except...

Third thing of note: Milo has apparently been experiencing morning sickness. Well, it's not explicitly called morning sickness, but he's been having the same pregnancy symptoms as Pawoo and hasn't been able to find a medical cause. He's also been hiding it from Bisco so as not to worry him. Supposedly, it's a side effect of being imbued by Bisco's life force??

Fourth thing of note: Eventually he's struck with intense stomach pains and yells that there's something in his stomach. At this point I was highkey skimming bc it was very late and I had a headache, but a few pages later a child has appeared.

so.........................................yeah I think Milo just gave birth to Bisco's child

I guess I'm spending my day off doing a closer reading to try to fill in some of these gaps, lmk if anyones interested in an update 😅

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 28.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings In This Chapter: Use Of A Sex Toy, Lactation Kink, Degradation, Daddy Kink, Begging, Sex Over A Desk, Bratty!OC, Dom!Yoongi, Mentions Of The Color System, Sex Against A Window, Exhibitionism, Praise, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie, Insecure!Yoongi

A/N: I’m back from vacation. Here is your weekly dose of Yoongles. Also big ups to my ladies @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna​. Love yall.

Why do people even get married? If you had it your way you would just get married at City Hall with your parents and best friends. But getting married to a CEO is never that easy. Combine that with your raging hormones, sore back and ankles, and your overbearing, over the top best friend… it's all a bit much to handle. Not to mention now that everyone knows who you are, you have eyes on you at all times.

Although, you know how happy Yoongi is about all of this. You can see how he radiates joy with each step as you walk hand in hand together out in public. That pretty much makes it all worth it.

"I'm allergic to coconut," Yoongi breathes out, pushing the plate of wedding cake in front of him away.

You hum in agreement, leaning back into the plush armchair.

"They're all so good, I don't know what to pick." you say truthfully, looking over the multitude of wedding cake samples that are spread across the exorbitantly large dining room table.

"Well, you have… twenty minutes to figure it out." Leena notifies you from the other end of the room.

"You know, you're like a drill sergeant or something," you murmur.

You can hear Yoongi's gentle snigger when she narrows her eyes at you. "My perfect, amazing, gorgeous best friend is only getting married once. It has to be the event of a lifetime. So strap in and call me General Matrimony."

"Hear, hear." your fiance agrees smothering your cheek with a kiss.

"In my opinion the double chocolate fudge with marshmallow Swiss buttercream is the best." Leena decides, pointing to the cake in the middle of the table.

"Too sweet." you and the CEO reply at the same time.

She sneers at your combined cuteness.

"Are we trying to be disgustingly decadent or classy?" Yoongi quips to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

Leaning your temple against him, your cheeks puff out in thought. "Disgustingly classy?"

Leena points at you with her gold pen. "Love that."

The CEO snorts loudly, running the tip of his nose over your temple.

"If we're being disgustingly classy, we should do the chocolate chiffon cake with the light white raspberry filling." you announce, pointing at the cake in front of you.

"That was really good," Yoongi agrees, planting his hand on your protruding stomach.

Leena looks up at you over her clipboard impressed. "If I knew you were gonna turn into some hoity toity queen, Miss Thing -- I would have shoved you at Yoongi a long time ago." she jeers.

You roll your eyes with a laugh before wincing at a kick that's just a bit too tender on the ribs.

"Honggi. Relax, buddy." Yoongi mutters in your direction.

You had decided on a name last night. It honestly didn't take you long at all. You and your fiance are always on the same page.

Honggi is a powerful name and Yoongi's son should have that prowess and power behind him.

Yoongi came to love the simple word almost immediately and even when you were drifting off to sleep, you could hear the CEO murmuring semblances of the name.

When Leena looks over you both, her sharp and intense features begin to soften. "God, you guys are cute. It's fucking disgusting." she whines, sipping her champagne.

Shaking his head with a laugh your soon-to-be husband seems to agree. "I'm not the one who brings the cuteness here." he chirps, running his thumb in loving strokes over your distended skin.

Leena gives you a moment or two to calm down before hardening her gaze and tapping the famed clipboard with her pen. "Floral arrangements, come on folks! We don't have time!"

"Wedding tyrant." Yoongi breathes playfully, earning a snort from you.

"Good morning, Sir." Shea calls to Yoongi as he gets out of the elevator.

"Hey, Shea. Mornin'." the CEO mutters, running his fingers through his perfectly styled hair.

It was no secret that after the unfortunate incident with his mother, you started to despise Kira. You never said anything of course, you were too kind for that. But Yoongi knew, he always knows. So he did what he thought was best and let her go. He did however give her a gigantic 'keep quiet' sum of money as well as having her sign a NDA. He wasn't about to let the woman that's kept him company many times throughout many years go blabbering at the mouth due to being disgruntled.

"You have two meetings today and then after lunch you have a few contracts to sign." Shea explains.

Yoongi likes that she's strictly business. And more importantly, she doesn't look at him like he's a piece of meat on sale at the butchers.

"Thanks." he breathes, picking up his coffee from the reception desk.

"Oh! And your fiance called!" she beams.

He knows she's a fan of your artwork and just the mention of you has both of them smiling like idiots. Nothing like simping to start off the day.

"Oh? Is she okay?" he inquires, pulling out his phone.

"She said she's bringing you lunch, so don't eat." Shea instructs.

He hums thoughtfully. "Well, I guess I'm pretty lucky. Huh?" he quips, heading towards his office.

The day goes by slower and slower with each passing minute. He equates it to being away from you and his son if he's being honest.

The meetings are all the same. Boring and tedious with glasses of whisky to take the boredom even slightly away.

The old men that seem to run the company beneath him have more to say about the project managers than their own jobs. It's almost baffling.

But when Yoongi gets the solace of being in his exorbitantly large office again on his own, he finds peace there.

Shea wasn't too forthcoming with just how many contracts he has to sign and the stack of them on his desk makes his eye twitch.

"God, when is lunch?" he breathes, turning around in his large chair to look at the sonogram painting of his son you so artfully created.

Digging into his suit pocket, he looks for the trusty gold pen he uses to sign documents -- but he feels something else first. It's small, fitting in his palm and his eyebrows furrow. When he pulls it out, he can't say he isn't confused.

You did pick out his suit this morning, much like you do every morning but he's never had a remote in his pocket before.

Picking up his phone, he's immediately intrigued.

The phone rings loudly in his ear and suddenly he's forgotten all about work.

"Hello?"

"Little dove." his voice sounds confused and playful at best.

He examines the small black remote, having no idea what on Earth it's for.

"Yeah?" you quip back.

"I found a remote in my pocket. Any idea why?" he prods, his eyebrows flickering up expectantly.

The hum of uncertainty you give makes him all the more curious.

"No. Why is there a remote in your pocket? Did you take the garage remote instead of your car key?" you inquire.

It's simply ridiculous but now he's questioning himself. "What? No! Then how would I have gotten to work?"

He presses the 'On' button and flips it over in his hand expectantly.

"Oh God," you whisper softly.

"You okay? Is Honggi kicking a lot?" Yoongi asks, putting down the remote to give you his full attention.

"N-No. I was just surprised. I'm in the car, now on my way over to your office."

Your voice sounds breathless and strange all at once and for the first time… probably ever -- Yoongi doesn't take it sexually. "You better tell Minho to be careful driving, you hear me?"

"Mhm." you gasp softly.

"Well if you didn't put this thing in my pocket, I don't know how it got here then." Yoongi murmurs, pushing more buttons on it curiously.

"Oh my God, Minho drive faster!" you squeak out.

The CEO is completely at odds with what's happening. "You alright?" he inquires curiously.

"I just really need to… pee." you babble.

You sound dazed and lost, even needy all of a sudden.

"I'm sure. Honggi is getting big." your fiance agrees, drawing imperfect shapes on his desk with the tip of his finger.

"I'm here. I'll be right up, Daddy." you whimper, hanging up on him.

He pulls the phone away from his ear, eyebrows completely furrowing. "What's wrong with her?" he bleats.

He's signed a total of three documents by the time you make it upstairs.

Just hearing your sweet voice interacting with Shea in the far distance sends his heart absolutely pounding with excitement. Seeing you sometimes gives him the adrenaline of bungee jumping or cliff diving.

When the doors of his office burst open, he can't help the gummy smile that spreads over his features.

He takes in your attire and suddenly he's confused. You're wearing a stylish black trench coat that flourishes out at the bottom, but he can't see the dress you're wearing beneath it.

"What dress are you wearing that doesn't cover your mid thighs?" he asks, pushing back his desk chair to stand up tall.

Your fingers are shaking and you hurriedly slam the door shut. When you lock the both of you inside his large office, he knows something is weird.

"Y/N?"

Turning around to him with your back flush to the door, he can see how colored your cheeks are. Your lips are parted like your gasping for breath and your eyes are low with lustful intentions.

He finds something in his gut stirring at the sight of you.

"Baby? You okay?" he prods, rounding his desk.

Your fingers fumble with the belt around your belly which keeps the trenchcoat in place.

It's almost amusing how flustered you are.

You don't seem to be in any pain and Yoongi takes this all in as strange.

He leans back against the desk, waiting patiently for you to reply.

"I'm fine!" you assure him, shoving open the coat.

If his eyes could widen any larger, they'd probably pop out of his head.

You stand before him, scantily clad in thin, lace lingerie.

"Baby!" he gawks, rushing towards you to cover you up.

He can't help the way his cock begins to stir below the belt at the sight of you.

"What're you doing?" he hisses, gripping both sides of the trench coat.

You whimper gently, hooking your hand around his neck to pull him down to your height. He allows you to kiss him, he can feel the fervent need coming from your lips. His hands slowly slide from the coat to beneath it, feeling the soft skin of your belly.

"Want you," you gasp, pulling one of his hands between your thighs.

He can feel the vibrations against his fingertips and it all makes sense now. He groans loudly, pulling you back in for a fierce and passionate kiss.

His teeth nibble gently at your bottom lip and in all honesty, he's astounded by your forwardness. It's rare to see you like this but when your hormones are raging and in charge of your brain… who is he to stop you?

"You naughty little dove." he jeers, pulling you towards his desk.

"What's got you so playful today?" he inquires, pushing the multitude of contract folders aside.

He helps you up onto the desk, spreading your legs with a wanton groan.

The clit and g-spot vibrating sex toy you had recently spoken about sits between your sodden pussy lips. Yoongi can see how wet you are through the thin lingerie and it makes his heart beat faster at the sight.

"Just wanted to," you whimper, spreading your legs wider.

Stepping between your limbs, his hands can't seem to separate from your soft skin. Reluctantly, he leaves your belly to tug down the cups of your bra. Your breasts spring out, swaying and dribbling milk languidly.

"You're leaking milk in public, like a little cum slut."

His dominance is overwhelming to your senses and you can only nod fervently in agreement.

"I'm your cum slut. I'm yours." you babble, wrapping your hand around his tie and pulling him towards you.

It's not like this extreme horniness has come from nowhere. In fact, you've been in pain from kicks and punches from your growing son for a week or so now and the one day you don't feel any pain at all -- the most pressing horniness you've ever felt has overcome you.

His lips are soft and warm against yours. They draw you in like a fly to honey and you're enraptured with the man you're in love with.

"I never thought you'd turn up at my office like this, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, pressing soft kisses to the column of your neck.

"I'm so horny, I'm going to pass out!" you complain, reaching for his belt.

He can hear the sheer neediness in your voice and it sends him into overdrive.

"I'll take care of you, baby girl. Don't worry." he assures you, cupping your breasts and gingerly swiping his thumbs across your leaking nipples until you're sobbing with relief.

"D-Daddy!" you whine, unbuckling his belt.

The way your voice peaks makes his eyes immediately rise to the double doors of his office.

"You're gonna have to be a little quieter for me, babe. I'm at work." he murmurs, kissing your lips softly.

You whimper, giving him an understanding nod.

"Good girl," your fiance praises, wrapping his lips around your nipple.

Your hand cups your mouth when you gasp loudly. Shaking like a leaf, your body is quite literally vibrating with sexual need.

He sighs gently against you, adoring you for all you're worth. One hand pinches and rolls your forsaken nipple while the other caresses your stomach.

The vibrating with you seems to only get faster and you're so stimulated that fat tears of pleasure begin to roll down your cheeks.

"Feels good, little dove?" Yoongi coos around your nipple, enmeshing his fingers into the sides of your underwear. In mere seconds it becomes strings in his hands. He groans against your skin gently, tucking your destroyed undergarments into his suit pants pocket.

"S-So good! Fuck," you moan, shoving down his pants.

The sight before you has you licking your lips expectantly. His cock is already throbbing with need and it's a welcome sight.

One thing you can always count on with Yoongi is his complete and utter patience when it comes to pleasing you. His cock could be fucking purple with need and he would still take his time making sure you're satisfied first.

His fingers run over the smooth silicon of the sex toy and he shivers visibly at the vibrations. "How's it feel, baby? You like the new toy?" he inquires, kissing over the valley of your breasts.

You hum in agreement, lifting your hips slightly begging him to touch you.

You can feel your veins coursing with white hot pleasure, it feels like electricity firing through every pore in your body.

When his fingers slide over your opening, he can't help but choke on a moan. "God, your cunt is soaked. Shit." he curses, dipping a finger into your heat.

"You're gaping for my cock, Jesus Christ." he breathes out.

Yoongi knows he probably isn't going to last long. It's been awhile since you've fucked and his hand is nothing compared to being inside of you. Combine that with the new vibrator inside you, it's definitely going to be a tough feat.

"Fuck me over the desk like an animal!" you beg of your soon-to-be husband.

His eyes seem to widen at your forwardness but he can't say he doesn't love it.

"Anything for you, baby girl."

Your whimpers of anticipation have his bottom lip tucking tightly between his teeth.

"How'd I get so lucky to have such a gorgeous woman as my wife? Huh?" he whispers, running his hands over your back and sides.

You don't answer him, only pushing your hips back and wiggling your ass to show just how needy you are.

"I'm coming baby, relax." he promises, palming both globes of your ass in hand.

Your breathing is shallow and your mind is swimming as you wait for him. The vibrations against your most sensitive parts feel so amazing, so raw but it's not enough -- you want his consent to cum. You need it.

Yoongi picks up the small remote, testing the speeds and he realizes which you like more depending on your breathing and small moans. He's toying with you right now, enjoying the obscene amounts of arousal dripping down your soft, fleshy thighs.

His eyes are focused on your cunt, watching from behind as it twitches and spasms around the small device inside of you.

"Daddy, please!" you whine, lifting your head to look back at him.

When you do look back, you see his cock flat on his palm. He pumps it in hand a few times, cursing gently at the sight before him.

"Aren't you just a pretty little pregnant whore for me?" he quips, running his hand from your back to cup your stomach.

The weight of your belly in his hand has him almost in a frenzy then. Pressing the weeping head of his cock to your entrance, his lips press into a thin, hard line when he feels the vibrating sensations flow through him.

"Oh fuck," he hisses softly, letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Yes!" you breathe out, pushing back to welcome him into your swollen cunt.

He groans then, welcoming your warm heat around him inch by inch.

"Feels so fucking good, baby girl. Jesus." he moans, taking a moment  for you to adjust to his size.

Grabbing the remote once more, he turns it onto the fastest speed and the gasps you collectively emit seem to sound like they're all around you.

He's forgotten he's at work, he's forgotten what he's supposed to be doing because the most important thing right now is you -- and your swollen, greedy sex is all he needs.

With the pleasurable vibrations added, all Yoongi wants to do is fuck you so hard that you'll both cum and be pleased in minutes. But he's never been the type to leave a sexual experience so early.

Folding over, his chest presses to your back and his fingers intertwine with yours.

His lips feel like heaven against your warm, flushed skin. He suckles small marks against the side of your throat, coloring you as his own.

His thrusts are hard and filling but slow. He'd give anything to hear skin slapping against skin right now but then he's reminded that he's at work.

Your hands grip harder onto the edge of the desk as you rut back against him.

"Your cock is so big," you whine, closing your eyes to become enraptured in the whole experience.

"Yeah? You like my big cock in this pregnant cunt?"

You nod fervently, trying to bite back the loud moans that threaten to tear past your lips. It's all too much and suddenly your orgasm is approaching like a rapid waterfall.

"Don't you dare," your fiance threatens, lifting himself up and gripping the back of your neck.

"Please Daddy. Need to cum," you beg, feeling your body quake with the ever pressing need of relief.

"Oh no, I don't think so. You show up to my office, you wait until I say you can cum."

You whine in defiance, pushing your hips back against him harder and he's surprised at your brattiness.

"Don't you dare cum." he warns you.

Your eyebrows furrow with need and you couldn't care about the punishment you're going to recieve. You're honestly not sure what's come over you, you've never defied him before but right now it's getting you more excited to not listen to him.

Pushing past the control of his orgasms, you lose yourself on his cock. Your high is filled with galactic stars behind your eyelids and white noise filled ears.

"You brat," he gasps, pulling out of you.

It's a smug grin the spreads over your face now before your cringing at the overstimulation of the sex toy. He takes pity on you in that regard, shutting the toy off and pulling it out of you. Tossing it onto his desk, he points his finger in your direction. "You're in trouble." he breathes out, jerking his hard cock in hand.

Now that you've arrived back down to Earth, you're worried. You've never defied him before and you've never seen his wrath.

"You just woke up a brat today, didn't you?" he seethes, helping you stand back upright.

You pout, shaking your head quickly in hopes that he won't be too strict on you. His narrowed eyes chill you to the bone.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I just couldn't help cumming. I was so horny. I'm sorry," you apologize profusely, running your hands over his clothed chest.

He hums unimpressed, combing his fingers through his hair.

"If only people knew what a cumwhore I have on my hands." he murmurs through his teeth.

You frown up at him, begging him to forgive you with puppy dog-like eyes.

"No. You don't get away with being a brat that easily," he deadpans.

Nodding to the large floor to ceiling windows, he taps his foot incessantly.

"Go stand by the window." he orders.

You look down at your naked body before looking back up at him in confusion.

"Wh-"

"What's your color?" he cuts you off, running his hand over your belly.

"G-Green," you chirp out, looking at the window.

"Then go stand up against the window." he instructs, beginning to stroke his cock once more.

"Why?" you inquire curiously, doing as told.

"So people can see what a cumwhore I have on my hands," he whispers into your ear. The heat of his breath has something unfurling inside of you once more.

Bracing your hands against the window, you turn back to look at him just in time to see him situating the vibrator between his fingers.

The quiet thrumming of the sex toy makes your breath hitch with anticipation.

"Spread your legs," your fiance commands, pressing his chest flush to your back.

You're so high up you're almost certain no one could see you but excitement still courses through you.

His hands wrap around you like strong chains and you hum in appreciation.

"I love you," you remind him, turning and kissing his cheek.

He softens at your words, kissing over your shoulder with his plush lips. "I love you too, brat." he murmurs.

His words make you snort gently but it's quickly cut off by a loud gasp. He presses his hand to your swollen clit and the smug grin he gives you sends a chill through your spine.

Your forehead presses to the chilly glass of the window and you mewl as his legs knock yours open farther.

His cock slides between your sodden folds a few times before entering back inside of you.

"Oh my God," you whine, backing your hips up to him.

"Pretty little thing," he praises, kissing over your neck. "What do you think, little dove? You think people can see me fucking your pregnant cunt from all the way down there?"

His thrusts become rougher and harder, cursing all the while.

The vibrations that ricochet through you are once again pushing you towards the edge at a surprisingly rapid pace.

"Don't even," he seethes, feeling how your cunt trembles around him.

His grunts and the sweet whispers of your name enrapture your ears.

The sight that greets Yoongi's eyes could make him almost blow his load in that very second.

"Your milk is leaking onto the glass, oh fuck." he whimpers, fucking into you harder and faster.

"Gonna cum!" you cry to him, scratching your nails against the window.

He doesn't even respond, chasing his own high as your cunt threatens to milk him for all he's worth.

"Oh little dove!" he gasps.

His thrusts become sloppier and his breath hitches at the prospect of cumming inside of you.

"Yoongi, please!" you beg, spreading your legs wider.

"You think you deserve it?" he quips, running his hand over your belly bump.

"Yes," you whimper, pushing back against him with each thrust.

"Cum." he commands, pressing his forehead into the junction between your neck and should.

He holds you up easily as you orgasm around him. You become a blubbering mess, crying out his name softly like a prayer.

"God, I love you." he seethes through his teeth.

His teeth clench down on his bottom lip as he cums, trying to quiet his final moans.

You both stay like this for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's company.

"Are you upset with me?" Yoong inquires, pulling out of you slowly.

Your eyebrows furrow at his worried tone. "Huh? Not at all, why?"

"You never act bratty or defy me… Did I do something wrong?"

You've spoken about this before actually. Yoongi is prideful when it comes to your sub slash dom relationship. He beams with satisfaction knowing that he keeps you so pleased you don't act out of character. For you to have been just the slightest bit bratty, it probably shook up his confidence.

"No, it's just my hormones I think, I wanted to be a little sassy," you explain, sitting down on his lap when he beckons you.

He hums unsurely, hooking his chin over your shoulder. "I'm a good dom to you when we have sex, right?" he asks, kissing your temple.

"Always. You always make me feel safe and dominated," you promise, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He breathes a sigh of relief, looking down at the sex toy tossed casual aside on his desk. "Felt good," he murmurs, running his hands over your sides.

You give him a large smile, nodding in agreement. He can't help but snort at your joyful expression.

"Well regardless of your bratty hormones, I'm happy you came to distract me from my work." your fiance murmurs, pulling the cups of your bra back up.

"You're always happy to be distracted from work." you quip, combing your fingers through his hair.

He nods thoughtfully, letting his fingertips graze over your outer thigh. "Very true." he beams, kissing your shoulder.

When your skin begins to raise with goosebumps, he's quick to cover you with the trenchcoat you discarded a while ago in your sudden heat of passion.

It's your stomach that rumbles first with the need for food and sustenance before he acts accordingly also.

"Oh yeah, where's the lunch you promised me?" the CEO inquires, tying the belt of your coat back in place.

"I gave it to you." you reply with a wide smile.

He looks over at the window before shaking his head with a laugh. "Alright, that's it. Get your pretty butt to the car, I'm taking us home for lunch."

Just talking about food in general has you jumping up with excitement. "Are you coming back to work after?" you prod, watching as he pulls up his boxers and suit pants.

"Nah, I'll just take the contracts home with me now so I don't have to come back. Besides, I didn't correct your errant behavior like I wanted too." he whispers, pecking your lips softly.

Leaning back on the desk, your head begins to tilt. "Well, you should get all your punishment in before six. Leena is coming over to discuss place settings for the wedding."

He groans gently, fixing his suit jacket until it looks seemingly pristine. "Why are you best friends with a tyrant? Remind me again?"

Your giggle echoes through the large office and he adores the sound, it courses through him like new life.

Scooping up the contract folders, he looks over to the window before smiling to himself. "Y'know I'm never cleaning my window again, right?" he quips, watching as you pull open the doors to his office.

"That's disgusting," you quip back, holding out your engagement hand so he can hold it.

Kissing the top of your head, he laughs. "Yeah, I am."

Next Chapter ------>

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer​, @imluckybitches​, @slothykrueger​, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland​, @rspbrryy​​, @iv-bts​, @bambuzlee​, @chanelbts​, @mxxngxdss​, @bluewhale52​, @milesjeon11​​, @diamonddia-mond​​, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97​​, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn​​, @bts-7beauts​​, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace​​, @eclectically-esoteric​​, @nikkiordonez12​​, @kaitswrld​​, @skamlover200​​, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria​​, @jikooksgirl19​​, @hobbledehoy26​​, @singular-itae​​, @dchimminie​​, @lowlifeoeuvre​​, @sugaslittlekookies​​, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth​​, @softysuho​​, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​, @betysotelo18​​, @jeonmisha​​, @iwanttohitmyself​​, @ayyyocee​​, @neverthefirstchoice​​, @itsbangtanoclock​​, @little7bitchh​​, @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​, @deathkat657​​, @firstlovesuga-93​​, @namjoonia​​, @paperpurple​​, @muzikabijou​​, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites​​, @kleff03​​, @ruinsofangels​​, @brightwingr5​​, @leekanchol​​, @rkivemagic​​, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside​​, @melaninkpops​​, @y00ngisbabygirl​​, @ungodlyjoon​​, @prochnost513​​, @dunixxd​​, @athenakyle​​, @igotnotype​​, @chxmachxps​​, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog​​, @alpaca1612​​, @ohcarolinamin​​, @thegreatestsushi​​, @eltrain80​​, @btsmylife21​​, @deeepvibes​​, @httpminyg​​, @deliciouslydisturbed365​​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​​, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie​​, @preciouschimine​​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​​, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii​​, @kooafraid​​, @ladykadyrova​​, @singjisu​​, @yazanii​​, @moonlitmyg​​, @justzeera​​, @absolutefantrash​​, @whocaresarchives​​, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx​​, @bt21chim​​, @flowerboyhobi​​, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​​

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[reidsnose]

completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly (spencer reid x reader)

overview: spencer helps his best friend talk through her emotions

genre: angst? and fluff

warnings: mentions of cheating, bad coping mechanisms, idrk what else reader being upset for a little bit

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app FOREVER but idk how i feel ab this one im usually strictly fluff so yall lmk :)

masterlist

you hated talking about your feelings. you knew it was unhealthy to keep it bottled and and 'deal with it on your own' but that didn't stop you from doing exactly that.

the worst part about your feelings right now was that you isolate to cope with them. you didn't want to interact with anyone at all because more likely than not you would lash out at them on accident. it just slips out sometimes.

when you trudged into the bullpen with your head down and your hands fidgeting with your zipper, you didn't even notice all eyes on you. you werent your usual happy self. you weren't being loud, you weren't cracking jokes. you were just begrudgingly existing amongst your favorite people and they knew there was something wrong.

"good morning gorgeous, its a paperwork day! that means no traveling!" garcia informed you brightly, trying to lighten my mood.

"oh. cool. thanks." you answered back, flashing her as much of a smile as you could muster after realizing the harshness of your words.

she shot morgan a look, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"hey pretty lady," he began as he walked over to you, "whats going on? did you drink some grumpy juice for breakfast?"

"no. im fine." you replied flatly, making your way to your desk.

"what in the world.." he whispered to garcia, not knowing you could still hear.

or maybe he did know. maybe he was trying to get on your nerves. no. this is the irritability talking. morgan was just being a good friend.

you groaned at your computer, retyping the same password for the 4th time.

this time Prentiss shot you a look.

"is everything ok?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"yeah my computer is being stupid." you rolled your eyes as it finally let you in.

"oh i know the feeling. if you need any help-"

"I'm alright. thanks." you cut her off, eyes glued to the file you were working on.

JJ, who had witnessed the whole interaction unfold, stood with her mouth agape.

"spence, your bestie needs you!" JJ tapped his shoulder and motioned to you.

he watched your jaw rhythmically clench and unclench. your tell. thats what you always did when you were irritated or angry.

"hey y/n," he hummed, sitting lightly on the corner of your desk, crinkling some of your paper work.

"Reid! my files!" you cried, swatting his thigh. he got up and murmured an apology.

"are you ok?" he asked simply, crouching down to meet your height as you sat in your chair.

"why does everyone keep asking me that!"

you knew why. you were being a bitch.

"you just called me Reid." he stated.

"its your name." you replied, not meeting his gaze.

"yeah but you always-" he began.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

he sighed, "if you need someone to talk to-"

"i don't need anyone to talk to because theres nothing to talk about!" you interrupted, causing him to furrow his eyebrows at the tone of my voice.

'i shouldn't be mean to him. why am i acting like this?' you thought to yourself

"ok, ill be over there if you need me," he threw his hands up in surrender.

you mumbled an ok and went back to distracting yourself with work. you were so invested in filing these cases you completely lost track of time and before you knew it, it was just you, Hotch, and Spencer left in the office. you vaguely remembered waving goodbye to your other coworkers but you didn't remember it being nearly 6pm.

"guys go home, you've done a lot today," Hotch said as he crossed the bullpen, making his way towards the glass doors.

"yeah i will i'm almost done," you answered, not looking up from my screen.

"good night, Hotch," Spencer called from the break room.

you stared at your screen, eyes burning. you did enough. you cant escape confronting your feelings much longer. you sighed as you began packing up.

as if on cue, Spencer walked out of the break room with two cups in his hands, steam rising from the both of them. your mood softened just a bit.

"here," he handed you your drink which he had filled with your favorite tea and sweetened just the way you like it.

"you didnt have to." you replied, setting down the warm cup as you finished packing up. he mirrored your movements, resting his satchel across his torso before picking his drink back up.

"i know." he answered simply, a gentle smiling resting on his lips before he took a sip of his own tea.

"im sorry for snapping at you earlier." you apologized, finally meeting his gaze. his eyes were soft and sweet and you felt a pang of guilt in your heart as they looked into your own.

"its ok. do you want to tell me why?" he asked, walking to the elevator with you.

"no. yes? i dont know. its stupid." you replied, looking down at the floor as you recounted your reason for my anger today.

"its not stupid." he spoke softly.

you scoffed lightly, "you dont even know what it is."

"so tell me."

"but its dumb!"

"y/n." he warned.

"my ex boyfriend, Ashton, is getting married to the girl he cheated on me with." you sighed, walking through the parking lot with Spencer.

"ah so Trashton put my favorite ray of sunshine in a bad mood." he joked, breath swirling around the cool air as he spoke

you let out a weary chuckle, "its not like i miss him or anything, i just wish i had someone! not him- i just- i want- ugh i don't know how to word this!" you grew frustrated, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your hands into fists.

you knew exactly how to word it.

you wanted Spencer.

"its ok, take all the time you need." he whispered, leaning on the hood of your car. you joined him, resting as you took a sip of your tea.

"why am i not good enough to be loved." you stated the question rather than asking it, eyes filling with tears.

"you are good enough and i promise you that you are loved more than you know." he affirmed gently, turning to face you.

"do you know why we broke up?" you asked, knowing if you acknowledged his previous comment you wouldn't be able to continue without sobbing.

"because he cheated on you." he answered confidently.

"no." you shook your head, fighting back tears.

"what? he didn't cheat on you?"

"he did. and i was going to forgive him for that."

Spencer started getting riled up, "what! why? you're worth more than that scumbag! you shouldn't ha-"

"Spencer just let me finish!" you cut him off. he went silent, chest rising and falling more rhythmically than it had seconds earlier. "he wanted me to chose. him or you."

"him or me?" he furrowed his eyebrows, voice much quieter now.

"mhm." you hummed not meeting his gaze, your cheeks redder than you'd like to admit.

"i don't understand." he breathed.

"he thought i was cheating on him with you. he had no proof and it w-"

"oh this is all my fault. y/n i'm so sorry!"

"no! spence its not your fault!" you grabbed his arm to reassure him.

"it is! your boyfriend broke up with you because of me! and now you're sad and lonely and its all my fault!" he cried, looking worriedly into your eyes.

"first of all, i broke it off with him, he just gave the ultimatum. secondly, you did me a favor."

"how?"

"by showing me who i was really dating. a cheating, insecure scumbag who was quick to replace me when i left."

"i guess thats true."

"and id pick you over him any day." you admitted, looking back down at the ground. he nudged your shoulder playfully and you cracked a sad smile

"im sorry i made you sad and lonely."

"you didnt. id be sad and lonely anyway."

"why? you would still have a boyfriend if it wasn't for me."

"i don't want a boyfriend if it isn't you."

shit. shit.

the words toppled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"what?" he asked, wide eyes and looking a little shocked. spencer was sure in that very moment that if he heard you correctly hed simply explode.

"i- no this was a bad idea. i just ruined everything didnt i!" you were speaking more to yourself, exasperated at your own stupidity.

"no," you felt him place a finger to your chin and lift your gaze to meet his, "im glad you said it because now i can admit it."

"admit what?"

"that im completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you."

"spencer dont play with my heart like this. are you being serious?"

"yes. i am." he said with a strange confidence than you had never heard before. hesitant but sure.

"oh thats so lucky because i am completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you too." you admitted, feeling about 100 pounds lighter, like you could fly. he pulled you into a bone crushing hug which you eagerly accepted. "i should talk about my feelings more often."

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, "yes you should."

world littlest taglist:

@mac99martin

[drakenology]

All Yours! - Kirishima Eijiro

“i’m all yours!” 

author’s note: this is pure filth ok? kiri is always written as a gentleman and I wanted to make him a slimey little cheater. tbh it was kinda hot. hope you guys enjoy this.

warnings: smut, angst, infidelity, fluff, fem!reader, phone sex , characters aged up! made up wife yall can give her a name if yall want lmao “she’s” just for the story. 

How can I put this? Sure, I loved my wife. She was with me when I was a nobody. Supported my dreams even when it meant I couldn’t be with her. But I can’t shake this feeling of regret. It’s almost as if I have married the wrong person. We stopped being intimate. She tenses up everytime I approach her. She doesn’t even look me in my eyes. She doesn’t love me anymore, I’m sure. I don’t think I loved her as much as I did when we first met. I was scared to tell her, scared to leave her. To be honest, I think we were both too chicken shit to sign those divorce papers.

Me and Katsuki talk about it all the time. He hypes me up over a few beers and when I get home I just lay dead next to her in bed, a huge wall separating our bodies from each other’s warmth even though we were so close. Our marriage was dying, withering away as we watched it fade. I don’t even bother telling her I’m leaving. I’m sure she has company over to fuck her while I’m gone. I caught her once.

He was amongst the higher ranks of Heros; I’ve seen him around before. He was on top of her, kissing her in the spots I used to kiss her. She seemed to be enjoying herself until I walked in. I was pissed. I pulled that guy off her and my mind went blank. I collect myself as she held me back from him. All I remember is her screaming. 

“It’s over! Don’t you get it!?” The pain in my knuckles snapped me out of it as I listened to her defend a man she hardly knew over me. He was knocked out on the ground, the pig naked and sweaty sporting a new blackeye courtesy of yours truly. I’ll never forget those words. We’ve been cheating on each other since that night. 

Tonight I was going to a bar with Katsuki and Kaminari, who wanted to get a few beers and maybe catch up a little. The both of them were pretty happy in their relationships. I never thought Bakugo would settle down. I’m watching my friends get into new and healthy relationships, while mine finds its impending doom. 

“Cheer up, Eijiro. I’m sure you’ll work up the courage to leave. It’s not working anymore, bro. I can see it in your eyes.” Denki says, taking a sip from his beer. I sigh and nod, only able to impishly agree. I was pretty upset. I spent a lot of good time with her. We made good memories. But it just didn’t work out. What went wrong? What happened? 

Bakugo grumbled about how I need to get over it, “Every woman in this joint would throw their fucking panties at you to have one night fucking a pro hero, don’t you get it? To be honest you should have left her that night you caught her cheating on you with that fucking side kick. Stop bein a coward and get it done.” I looked at him in shock but nonetheless he was right about me being a coward. I’d rather stay with her than try with someone new. Or so I had thought.

Time seemed to freeze when this woman walked into the bar with a few girls I was in the same class with in UA. She was quite possibly the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She seemed so confident and walked with her head held high. She knew she was hot, and wanted to make sure everyone in the bar knew. She wore this skimpy little dress in red, red lipstick on her full lips to match. Why does she seem so familiar?

She walked by our table, her perfume seeming to lure me towards her to follow her wherever she went. I was drunk and looking for something or anyone to distract me from what was going on at home. It felt wrong but something in me couldn’t resist. I couldn’t help but stare at her long legs in that dress that seemed to hug and squeeze at every curve in her body. I just wanted to grab her and nail her on the nearest surface in this fucking bar. 

“Yo, you’re drooling, dude.” Denki says, waving his hand in front of my eyes. I grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away from my view. Something about this woman made me want to know more about her. I guess I could start with her name. I stood up from my seat and approached her, telling the guys I’d be right back. My hands got clammy as I got closer. I’m not gonna lie I was nervous as fuck. She was having a conversation with someone at the bar, her head slightly tilted to the side to better hear the person over all the music and outside chatter. I sit on the other side of her and tap her shoulder. 

“Hey. Can I buy you a drink?” I ask. She turned to me and smiled brightly, her teeth almost twinkling. 

“Sure! I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” She shouted over the music. I was a little shocked she didn’t know who I was. It’s hard to even go grocery shopping without being recognized. It was almost refreshing. 

“Eijiro Kirishima.” I say, holding out my sweaty hand to give her a hand shake. She took my hand and shook it, giggling as she noticed the wetness of my palms.

“Nice to meet ya, sweaty hands.” She said teasingly. God she was pretty. It was like no one was here except the two of us. She ordered the drink she wanted and I paid the bartender after we got our orders. We talked for what seemed like hours. It was almost easy with her. She was open and honest. She had nothing to hide and she was real. It’s hard to find that in people nowadays. 

“You’re pretty handsome, sweaty hands. You must have some girlfriend waiting for you to come home tonight, don’t you?” She questioned. I froze, thinking of my wife as I take a big sip of my drink. 

“I’m uh.. actually married. But she and I are separating.” I said, looking down at my drink. 

“Are you just telling me that so I’ll sleep with you? Or are you serious?” She asked, squinting her eyes at me to see if she can detect any lies. 

“I wish I wasn’t serious. I did love her at one point but..” I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling pathetic. I was about to cry in front of a girl I’m trying to fuck. How manly. 

“Hey. You don’t have to explain much more, ok? I understand and I believe you.” She said, her small hand resting on my shoulder in reassurance. I look her in the eyes and smile. Why was she being so nice? 

“Hey, here’s my number. Call me anytime, sweaty hands.” She giggles, kissing me on the cheek. She finished her drink and pulled a pen from her purse. She wrote her number on a napkin and kissed it, leaving a red lipstick kiss on it. Y/N handed it to me and left, swaying her hips as she walked out the door.

Fuck.

“She was HOT! Way to go, Kirishima!” Denki said, surprising me. He pats my back and orders another round of beers for me and Bakugo, who was cheering me on back at the table. We sit for a while and go home a few hours after. I call an uber being that I’m too drunk to drive. When it gets to me, I get in and take the number out of my pocket to lock it in my phone. Should I even be considering this? 

Fuck it. 

I text her. I couldn’t wait to talk to her. 

“Hey sweaty hands. Took you long enough to text me.” She texted. I could almost hear her voice through the text as I text her back with shaky hands. 

“What are you doing?” I text, sitting back in the seat. She doesn’t respond for a while until I’m about to get out of the car. 

“3 Attachments.” The message read. I nearly fall over at the thought of what those attachments are. I unlock my front door and sneak back inside. My wife was already asleep, thank god. I couldn’t take her nagging when I was out late. I go to our room and sit on the bed, opening her message. God. She was naked with a blanket covering her more intimate bits. She was laying in bed, her nipples poking through the thin blanket as she pulled her features into a lewd look. She looked so good. 

“Thinking of you.” She said. My pants grow tight as I think of what she looks like under that blanket, my mind trailing to all the dirty things I’d do to her. How pretty she’d be with my dick in her little mouth. What was she doing to me? I send her a text back, 

“You’re such a tease.” I feel my wife stir in bed as I slowly try to climb in without waking her. I sigh as she turns back over and goes back to sleep, turning my attention back to my phone. 

“I want you, Eijiro. I wanna help you forget all about her.” She texted sending me another sultry image. “She won’t please you like I can.” I gulp and get up from my bed and rush to the bathroom. 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.. I wanna show you.” She texted, tempting me to risk it all. I facetime her without thinking. Fuck I hope my wife’s still sleeping. Y/N answers, already naked and spread out on camera for me. Dirty girl. God she looked heavenly. She wore nothing but these pink thigh high socks

“I’m so wet for you, Kiri. I want you so bad.” She whined, playing with her wet folds teasingly as if she was waiting for me to tell her what to do. I practically drooled at the sight of her so lewd like this for me, her face full of desire for a man already taken. This wrong feeling just felt so right. 

“Don’t be shy, love. Show me how you please yourself.” I said, my cock twitching in anger at the lack of attention. I licked my lips as I watched her finger her pretty pussy for me, her sweet moans filling my ears as I completely forget about everything around me. I could watch her fuck herself all day. 

“Kiri- I-I wish you were here. You’d do a much better job than me- ah!” she whined, adding another finger inside her needy little hole. I pull out my cock and start to stroke it feverishly, wishing her pussy was wrapped around me instead. 

“Yeah?” I huffed, Y/N moaning in response. I pant as I stroke myself, enamored by this woman spread out before me. I can’t wait to really taste her. 

“I’m all yours, Eijiro! Whenever you want me. Ughhh god, I can’t wait to have y-you.” She mewls, her pace quickening.

I smirk and follow her movements, mimicking her rhythm to at least simulate the feeling of her pretty pussy wrapped around me. Her moans rang in my ears, the sound of her wetness squelching around her fingers as she fucked herself open for me. I pant, feeling close to cumming all over myself as I watched her legs start to shake, a sign that she herself was close too.

“Fuuuuck, Ah! I-I’m g-gonna cum for you, Kiri. Please let me cum.. please?” She begged, the sound nearly broke me. The fact she was begging me to let her cum as if I owned her really turned me on. I huff, holding myself back further as I sweat profusely.

“G’head, baby. Cum for me. Let me hear you.” I pant desperately, wanting to let go myself. And she did, her pathetic little screams echoing in my ears like a symphony. I cum just about the same time she does, my seed spilling all over my hand and lower stomach. I hear her cooing praises at me as I moan and gasp for air in front of her.

“Mmm, I wanna lick that up for you, daddy. You’re so big.” She said, licking her lips at the sight of me. I sigh in relief, telling her how gorgeous she is as I clean myself up. She stood up and grabbed her phone, winking as she told me,

“I guess this is to be continued, huh?”

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [2] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, josei, mild angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) Notes: tbh idk how marriage works in japan, all i know is that once you have both your signatures in the marriage registration certificate with one witness then you guys r married skdjssks anyways onto the story- also might i add this is happy story?? i promise yall, all youll see is cute stuff in this story bcos fuck angst (ok maybe lil angst since you know plot development) but i stand by that nanami kento deserves that trip to malaysia under the sun with his lover! before i forget to add, the age dynamics is that y/n is around 25 and nanami is 38. no power play and all that, just two healthy consenting adults! sorry for the early delete had some minor corrections :( 

Izakaya-informal japanese bar

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*13 hours earlier; a night before at some random Izakaya in Tokyo*

You sat in front of your phone and three bottles of saki, despite your friends advising you countless of times to lay off drinking too much, all sense and warnings are thrown off the window tonight.

You’re clearly far from sobriety as you recall the video chat with your otosan not looking too good and bright, “Why don’t you move back home? It’s not like the teaching job at tokyo is all that great! You’re alone there and your obachan and I don’t like that a lot…” your father’s words haunt you again and again.

Just what was wrong with living alone? And excuse your otosan but you definitely had a very good job at Tokyo High (It was a prestigious academy that paid well, best job out there that you still didn’t know how you landed). You mumbled a few curses underneath your breath, Oh, how much you love that oaf of a father and worrywart of a grandmother but could they lay off the idea of settling down? You were a responsible and good child who never had stepped a toe out of line. Wasn’t that enough already? You immediately downed the drink and let the saki burn your throat down.

“Oh ho, slow down there.” You hear someone say, “You’re all alone and it seems like you have no one to help you back home.”

It seemed like the men on the opposite side of the bar had noticed you.

“I can take myself home, thank you very much.” You mumbled, loud enough for them to hear. Unlike older men who liked to prey on you for your innocent stature. The men who sat across you in the Izakaya didn’t really exude that sort of energy (what can you say, you had a knack of experiencing that, unfortunately).

“Are you sure? We can ask the owner to call a cab for you. She’s a woman and she’s a friend of ours.” the other one in robes pipes in, wait, was that a Buddhist monk?

“No, I’m good. It’s just…” You paused before letting out a long sigh, “A bad time so I need to stick around for a bit.”

The white-haired stranger tilts his head just a bit, “Seems like you and a friend of mine are both going through some rough patches.” he replied, pointing towards his blonde company who you didn’t notice until now.

You wordlessly shifted your gaze towards the office worker next to the Buddhist monk, you hadn’t noticed the blonde man until now. It seemed like he was going through a rough time too since the pair was loud and boisterous enough to conceal his silent presence.

You notice how out of place he looks with his crisp and clean suit, hard gaze, and silence. It made you wonder what sort of man hangs out with two contrasting personalities, “You’re wondering if he’s our friend or our boss, aren’t ya?” the white-haired man asks.

You immediately turn red in embarrassment, were you that easy to read? You try to stutter out an apology but the monk waves it off, “It’s alright, we get it all the time. Contrary to popular belief, Kento is two years younger than us and is our junior from high school.” He smiles.

“Ah,” you nodded mutely, “Sorry. It definitely wouldn’t make sense to see a boss and his subordinates at an Izakaya.”

“Oh, Kento-chan doesn’t usually go out drinking but he couldn’t resist. After all, he’s a father with two very emotional teenage boys.” The white-haired man teased in a sing-song voice. It seemed like the three were close, with the way they were carelessly lounging around the stoic and kind-of scary man.

“I’m starting to wonder if he gets that teasing attitude from you.” The blonde man, seemingly out of his trance, called out his friend. Contrasting to his aloof features, he didn’t mask the annoyance in his tone.

“Oh, uh, do you need help?” you quietly asked, tilting your head to the side in wonder. The blonde man’s head snapped to your direction and quirked a brow.

“And you are?” he seemed to be calculating and observing you from head to toe. It suddenly made you a bit self-conscious because this older gentleman had no business being this good looking and scary at the same time.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way. I’m actually a high school teacher.” You introduced yourself sheepishly, “I’m always surrounded by angsty teenagers.”

His gaze narrowed just a bit, it seemed like he’ll be giving you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was a bit desperate since he was getting advice from a drunk stranger in an Izakaya out of all places, “So what seems to be the problem, Ojisan?”

He’s still quite hesitant so it’s his white haired friend who speaks out for him, “You see, Kento-chan here just moved last week because of a promotion from Kyoto.” he grins, telling the story for his friend, “His kids aren’t very keen with the moving, well one of them is outright showing it and the other one is well keeping it in since he’s just the sweeter one.”

The white-haired stranger keeps babbling on about how his friend had regretted taking the work promotion because it feels like he shouldn’t have done that. You peerlessly observe the older man’s reaction while his friend talks about his problems to you. He remains stoic.

It didn’t look like it but it seemed like this man had such a soft spot for his kids.

How nice, his wife must be proud of him.

“... and before I forget to add, Kento-chan is very much single.”

You almost choke on your saliva, this friend of his sure knew how to run his mouth. It suddenly dawns upon you why this man had been very worried, he was a single parent who only wanted what was best for his boys but he didn’t even know how he should proceed now.

“Um, ojisan?” You quietly call out, “I think you’re doing great.”

Silence lingered in the air for a bit, you cringed at your rather awkward and forward approach, “Excuse me?” the older blonde man asked, clearly dismayed by your response.

“It’s just…” you ears turn red, not from the alcohol but from embarrassment, “You wouldn’t have moved in the first place if the pay wasn’t better than your old job, right? Plus you’re alone and raising two kids. It definitely isn’t easy to provide for everything alone but I can see that you did some careful reevaluation on the whole thing. Obviously you can’t avoid the fact that they feel bad but you can sit them down and talk to them about how the whole thing was beneficial not just for you but for them too.”

You spoke way too quickly that you wondered if the man could understand you.

The blonde man holds his breath for a moment, “I know…” he mumbles, “I just don’t really know how to talk to them.”

“Well, maybe you could take them out?” You advised, “Spend a whole day with them for a while and just move around with them. Help them get acquainted around their new school or something!”

You watch him silently look at his glass and think it over. Man, if this guy wasn’t older, your obaasan would outright agree and tell you to go out with him since she was never fond of how men weren’t as calm or laid back as he was.

“That sounds plausible. Thank you, Y/N-san.” his voice turned a bit softer and you feel your stomach turn just a little queasy by his tone. God, was the alcohol this bad?

“Well, would ya look at that.” the white-haired man grins, placing his drink up as if he was signaling everyone to cheers with him, “I told you drinking at an Izakaya would solve all your problems. For that, we should drink here again next week!”

The man glared at him yet again, “No. I should be heading home now. I can’t be anymore away from S-”

“Ah, ah. You promised that you’d stay until 2 am.” The white-haired man hushed, “Or I’ll be pestering you for a whole month.”

You could definitely tell that a vein popped on his forehead and his blood pressure was shooting up. Man, you were really starting to doubt that white-haired man was older than everyone in this room. He sure had the mental age of an elementary student.

“You also said I could leave after five drinks.”

“That’s only your second.”

“Satoru…” the Buddhist monk dangerously hovers over his white-haired friend. Wow, middle-age men sure were amusing, “You don’t even drink that well and he has to drive home…”

“Tit for tat, I’ll hire one of my personnel to drive you home after five drinks and I’ll leave you alone for a wee-”

“Please just leave me alone for my whole life.” the blonde man deadpanned.

Unlike you, he wasn't such a bad drinker. Four bottles for him and one more drink for you later, you're both kind of woozy and you had gotten on even friendlier terms with the three men who you now know as Geto-ojisan, Gojo-ojisan, and finally, Nanami-ojisan. Nanami was well into his late thirties while Geto and Gojo were in their forties.

If you were sober, you wouldn’t be making friends with older men. With stories of how easily young people are taken advantage of in the big city, you’d swerve away from them. Luckily, it seemed like they were a good trio and not once did they invite you to sit on their table so you had some good distance between you four and so far, they hadn’t tried anything funny or uncomfortable.

Geto is currently a lawyer, Gojo’s apparently some swanky businessman of god knows what        you heard jewelry or something      and Nanami was an accountant. A job that he described was ‘dead-end’ and ‘fucking boring’.

“...What happened to your wife, Nanami-ojisan?” you ask, the alcohol slowly shedding your shyness away.

“I told ya, Y/N-chan. He never was married. The way he got the kids was just complicated!” Gojo Satoru frowns, splaying his long limbs in the air, for a man so enthusiastic with drinking, he sure got drunk pretty quickly.

“Really? Didn’t you have a hard time? Wow…” you whistled, “I have such high…” you raised your hand as high as you could, “...respects for like, single parents!”

“See? See? But he can’t get a partner because of that Y/N-chan.” Gojo pouts, “...We’ve been setting him up on dates and such but he keeps bailing on them!”

“I have kids.” Nanami deadpans, narrowing his eyes.

“What my friends are trying to say, Kento has a number of opportunities to bring a partner into his life but he likes to use the boys and his work as an excuse.” Geto surmised, it seemed like the lawyer was also starting to feel the effects of the alcohol since he had become more talkative.

“He’s good-looking, right Y/N-chan? If he probably didn’t act like some fossil from the Triassic period, he wouldn’t have a problem sometimes about the boys having a mother figure!” Gojo rants, making Nanami flick his forehead.

“Idiot, must you tell this stranger all my problems?” Nanami harshly interjected.

“Well, you do know that to actually get a partner, you must get out there, right ojisan?” you try to calm him down, you didn’t want a bar fight to erupt.

“I know.” he rolls his eyes, “But the kids-”

“I know.” You try to smile, “You aren’t very interested in bringing just anyone in your life, right? The boys need a permanent figure and you think dating around is going to help.”

“Holy shit, Y/N-chan.” Gojo exclaims, “I thought you were a teacher? How come you know all this shit?”

“It’s basic, Gojo-san.” you smile, ready to take another swig of your saki, “You should take into consideration that Nanami-san isn’t just anyone who’d settle for less. He needs stability since he’s technically a parent.”

“That makes you a perfect pair, don’t you think?” Geto nonchalantly replies, “I mean, you need a stable man in your life who has all of it figured out and wouldn’t hold you back at all while Kento here needs a person who could not only be a good parent but also be as understanding.”

“That’s…” you chuckle, he technically was right, “That’s definitely odd how all our problems will be solved if we both just went out together.”

“... looks young enough to be my child.” Nanami rejoined, “why would Y/N-san like-”

“I mean, you’re good looking.” you shrug, rather shamelessly, “I wouldn’t mind going out with you. Heck, I wouldn’t mind if I married you.”

Gojo spits out the saki he was drinking all over the table and that makes you cringe in disgust, “As long as he doesn’t get invited to the wedding. I’d marry you. If you’d like we could even get married right here, right now.” you proudly proclaim.

The blonde man is thrown off by your statement yet he’s too drunk to even sip in the seriousness of your words, “Well as much as I agree on not inviting Gojo to my wedding, I don’t know-” he tries to explain.

“You know what, isn’t Geto-san a lawyer? He could have it notarized and all that right now then we could get married. I’ll be a great mom and help you out then you could help me get my family off my back. You scratch my back, I scratch yours!”

Geto is definitely in shock, how odd was it that he even had a marriage registration certificate in his briefcase back in the car too?

You both could just sign it and Satoru could sign it as your witness and he could have it officially notarized since he had his seal back there too.

Solved.

“So, Nanami-san, what do you say? Wanna marry me?”

Oh god, were you shameless.

Who in the right mind would marry a stranger, one who was thirteen years older and a father?

One thing was for sure, your friends were right. You definitely needed to stay away from alcohol.

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