#so much is written and yet there is more to go

[pmdcollector]

"Special Interview: The Past, Present, and Future of Pokémon Mystery Dungeon"

Nintendo DREAM. Volume #181. Spring 2009.

Translation by Smaturin. Editing and formatting by NeonHumBuzz.

Seiichiro Nagahata (Chunsoft)

Director, Head of Development Department

Shinichiro Tomie (Chunsoft)

Development Department, Planning Section, Game Producer

Hironori Ishigami (Chunsoft)

Development Department, Programmer

Kunimi Kawamura (The Pokémon Company)

Development Supervisor, Head of Development Management Department

The newest installment, Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky (hereafter referred to as "Sky"), is set to be released soon. This time the subtitle is "Explorers of Sky," but from the perspective of the average player, during "Explorers of Time" and "Explorers of Darkness" (hereafter referred to as "Time" and "Darkness"), one would likely imagine Dialga and Palkia when thinking of "Time." So "Time/Sky" would seem like the normal way to go. Why did you start with "Time/Darkness" and then go on to "Sky" for this game?

Kawamura: That was exactly what I wanted. To have our players think just that. As I’m sure there are still people who have not played Time/Darkness yet, I cannot say anything specific, but a Pokémon from Time actually appears in the first ending. And in the story after the ending, a Pokémon from Darkness appears. Does that explain it!?

Ah, I see!

Kawamura: Also, if we went with "Time" and "Sky" just because it was Dialga and Palkia, that would be too plain and predictable. And so we brought in "Darkness" in order to differentiate.

In that case, what were you imagining with Sky?

Kawamura: Sky is also "Space" and "Air" and can have many different meanings.

Shaymin’s Sky Forme is also based on "Sky."

Kawamura: Aside from stuff like that, we made Explorers of Sky with the concept of it being the definite version of the Explorers series. And so we wanted to convey the sense of expanding. "Sky" just happened to be perfectly fitting, but it took us a while to reach that conclusion. We also considered the "Sky" of outer space, but it was pointed out that this did not seem very bright. During development, there was also a film title that had "Sky" written as "Frozen Sky" (2008 film "Pokémon: Giratina & the Sky Warrior"), and so we wanted something more straightforward, and settled on the current "Sky."

For "Sky," the new additions for the protagonist are Riolu, Shinx, Eevee, Phanpy and Vulpix. How did you go about selecting these 5?

Tomie: When selecting the protagonist candidates for "Red Rescue Team/Blue Rescue Team" (hereafter referred to as "Red/Blue"), I confided in Kawamura-san during the process and came to the realization that the Pokémon I would choose were not very popular.

Everyone: (laughs)

Tomie: And so I withdrew from the process for Time/Darkness, and had Kawamura-san choose them. Also, there was a member of staff who really wanted Phanpy included. In the end, it’s better for the story if the protagonist and friends are Pokémon that look cute.

Kawamura: Also, with Eevee, there was this girl from France who was a fan of Pokémon Mystery Dungeon, and told us, "I love Eevee so much, so please make it the protagonist!"

A girl from France!?

Tomie: There was a keynote in France for Time/Darkness. And we received that question.

Kawamura: Eevee is especially popular among girls. Other criteria would be how expressive they were, the readability of emotions when they pop up in the portraits. The evolution, popularity, and if they look cute when walking… we considered different aspects while choosing until the current lineup remained.

"Remained." So there were many other candidates at first?

Kawamura: Indeed. For instance, Buneary was a candidate, but as its Ability is "Klutz," it cannot use the effects of the items it holds. Pachirisu was also a candidate, but when entering the early dungeons, it would be very difficult if you didn’t have a move that was decently strong. There were various reasons like that.

It’s been the case ever since Red/Blue, but what is the reason for "answering questions to determine the protagonist"?

Tomie: Ultimately, it comes from the setting of "you = protagonist", and "you have suddenly turned into a Pokémon one day." While being able to choose freely would be fine, that feeling of "boom, you are this Pokémon!", and having it decided for you might make it more relatable. Besides, I thought that if you don’t know which Pokémon you will become, then having one that is closer to your personality will allow for more conversation between players. Like, "I became Turtwig" and "I’m Torchic."

There are many new elements to Sky, but the Special Episodes have drawn the most attention.

Tomie: When it came to creating Sky, at first, we were thinking of making small changes to the scenarios of the main game. But after reconsidering it, we realized that it should not be touched. If we did make changes, it would just be adding a little something to the start of the story, or adding a little story after the ending. Those were the only choices we had. If that is the case, then we might as well add a side story, which would give us more freedom and allow us to expand. That was the conclusion we settled on.

I understand that the Special Episodes appear after advancing in the story to certain points?

Tomie: They do get unlocked as you play the game.

Kawamura: For instance, if Bidoof’s Special Episode appeared in the beginning, it would not be as enjoyable, since you do not understand what Bidoof’s role is in the main story. They are made to appear on the Menu Screen at the perfect time, when the foundation for enjoying the story has been set.

By the way, will the results of playing these Special Episodes be reflected in the main game?

Ishigami: Acquired items can be carried back with you to the main game. Otherwise, it would not be very fun.

How did you decide what character’s perspective to use for the Special Episodes?

Tomie: First of all, I knew that I wanted to use Grovyle. Ever since development on Time/Darkness had completed, I wanted to do it if I got the chance.

Kawamura: In order for players of Time/Darkness to enjoy it, we chose characters that had a lot of interactions with the guild members or protagonist. Like Bidoof (laughs).

These Special Episodes, like with Grovyle, for instance, it’s a story about returning to the future through the Dimensional Hole. Did this setting already exist during Time/Darkness?

Tomie: Not as a setting, no. Personally, I did have a vague idea of how it would be. As it relates to the ending, I cannot give away too much here, but I received a lot of comments from fans who wanted us to "save Grovyle too." I understood how they felt, and since it was from people who felt very strongly about Grovyle, it made me very happy. On the other hand, there was also a part of me that felt, "that's wrong." And with Sky, I had the chance to do something about it, which I was happy to do.

So Grovyle will appear in some other form… is that what you mean?

Tomie: Yes. It also means that Grovyle was doing his best! In the future world.

Spinda's Café has been added as a new facility. What is it, exactly?

Ishigami: As you advance in the game, I think you will have a lot of leftover items in your storage. Kangaskhan Storage has limited capacity, and so we wondered… if the leftover items could not be used for something else.

Tomie: Being able to turn Gummis into drinks is quite nice, isn’t it? If you pick up a Gummi, you definitely should go to the Juice Bar to get a drink.

The Recycle Shop also looks very interesting.

Tomie: It is quite interesting. I think that I’ve spent nearly half of the game wandering around there.

Ishigami: It’s like a place that you definitely want to stop by every time you come back from a dungeon.

What kind of prizes can you win with the Recycle Shop lottery?

Nagahata: We made it so you can acquire some amazing items now. Like a scarf that raises your abilities, and things you usually wouldn’t be able to acquire until after the ending. But you can now get them early on.

The Secret Bazaar is another new element. Under what kind of circumstance does it appear?

Nagahata: In general, it is random. You can be walking and the hidden staircase will just suddenly appear. So, you wonder what it is and you go inside to find the Secret Bazaar sprawled out in front of you.

Kawamura: We wanted to have players experience some good things inside of the dungeon, so it wasn’t just the thrill of encountering enemies that you cannot beat. "Ah, there are interesting places like this." We prepared a place where you don’t have to fight.

One thing I thought was incredibly interesting was the Lookalike Items. Like the Oren Berry instead of the Oran Berry.

Tomie: I was the one who was in charge of this new element. I had decided to think about it after I finished writing the Special Episodes. And so when I came to the staff with it a few months later, saying, "I want to do this," they all started saying, "what!"

Everyone: (laughs)

Tomie: The staff did not receive it well at first, but when I was writing, they gave me a lot of ideas. And from there, Kawamura-san and the other staff went through them until the current Lookalike Item was what remained.

Kawamura: It is very interesting!

Nagahata: It’s pretty terrible, isn’t it? (laughs)

Tomie: It’s fun to see the Reviser Seed being used. The programmers worked hard to make that.

Nagahata: They made it while saying, "won't this make young children cry?"

Ishigami: We even placed an explanation for the Lookalike Items in the tutorial.

Nagahata: You have to tell them that first. We were worried that if it came out suddenly, it would make people cry.

Various new elements have been added in Sky, but how is the difficulty in comparison to Time/Darkness?

Nagahata: Personally, I made it with the intent of it being about the same as Time/Darkness. And so it may seem easy for those who have played the series before, due to their experience.

Kawamura: In fact, during the Pokémon personality test that determines the protagonist in the beginning, you are asked if you have played Time/Darkness before. And the data balance changes a little depending on if you answer "yes" or "no." And so players of Time/Darkness and new players should be able to play it a little differently.

Nagahata: Also, in Time/Darkness, there were items that only appeared in Time, or only in Darkness, but in Sky, they all appear. For instance, in Time/Darkness, you may not have been able to get a Gummi that fits the protagonist type, and so you couldn’t raise your IQ… but this time, they appear with better balance, so the beginning of the game will be easier in some ways. However, we have also added some dungeons with higher difficulty.

For instance, a dungeon that is more difficult than Zero Isle…!?

Nagahata: There is. I thought that there would be no meaning in making something that was the same, so we made it even more difficult.

About the Exclusive Items from Time/Darkness, are there even more of them now?

Nagahata: There are. We have added nearly 400 of them.

Ishigami: We have them for everyone, including the Pokémon who did not have Exclusive Items in the previous games.

Kawamura: As there are many more types now, we made some adjustments to Croagunk's Swap Shop to make them easier to collect.

Nagahata: Since there are so many types of Pokémon, it’s quite difficult to get the Exclusive Item that you want, right? And so we added a system where if you "bring a certain item, you will receive an Exclusive Item." Also, you are able to send Exclusive Items from Time/Darkness over to Sky.

Ishigami: There is an advantage to sending Exclusive Items as well. As their Rarity goes up by 1 rank.

That’s very convenient! By the way, are Exclusive Items the only thing you can send?

Nagahata: No, you can send all items that were acquired in Time/Darkness over to Sky. For instance, if a newcomer who is starting with Sky, receives items from someone who played Time/Darkness, they may be able to enjoy a smoother adventure.

Aside from items, are there any network elements between Sky and Time/Darkness?

Ishigami: Interactions such as rescue requests and team battles in the Marowak Dojo are also possible between Sky and Time/Darkness. Request passwords can also be used as is. However, in regards to Wonder Mail, we plan to reveal something new for Sky, so it will not be compatible with Time/Darkness.

Kawamura: Furthermore, we have added something new in the form of demo dungeons. Ishihara (The Pokémon Company President and CEO, Tsunekazu Ishihara) had suggested that we could send a demo version through a Wi-Fi connection. Though, there were various problems, such as with capacity, and it was a lot of trouble for Chunsoft to implement.

Ishigami: In other words, even without the DS cartridge, you will be able to download and play the demo at Wi-Fi Stations and free spots. Also, players who have Sky will be able to send the demo dungeons to friends who do not own the game.

How much gameplay do they offer?

Kawamura: Some will be easy for complete beginners, while others will be challenging for Mystery Dungeon veterans. We made it with about 6 variations depending on difficulty.

Nagahata: Due to the limits with capacity, they are very compact. But they are made to convey what kind of game Mystery Dungeon really is.

As this is the first Pokémon Mystery Dungeon interview for Nintendo DREAM, please tell us how this collaboration between Pokémon and Mystery Dungeon came to be.

Kawamura: From the beginning, Ishihara was a big fan of Chunsoft’s Mystery Dungeon: Shiren the Wanderer series. So the start of it was the idea… that by combining this gameplay with the vast variety of Pokémon, we may be able to create a new world. I am also a big fan of Chunsoft’s games, so I was sure that the results would be very interesting. And so Ishihara went to Nakamura-san (Koichi Nakamura, Chunsoft Representative Director) and asked, "want to do this together?" and that led to where we are now.

Including each version, Sky will now be the 5th installment. Honestly, did you think it would continue this long?

Nagahata: If I am being honest, I was not thinking about anything. It was like, we will release it, and if it is received well enough, we’ll continue. Ultimately, Red/Blue were quite popular, so I think we were really lucky.

Also, the world of the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon series was pretty shocking. It's a world without humans and only Pokémon, where they talk normally. How did you come up with this idea?

Kawamura: If there were humans in the world of Pokémon Mystery Dungeon, this might not be the best example, but I thought the Pokémon would be like pets. In order to make scenarios where the player will relate to them, it would be best for it to be between Pokémon. However, since that had never been done in a Pokémon game up until then, we had to think about it seriously.

Tomie: Actually, when it comes to the world, while they do not make any appearances, humans do exist as far as the setting goes. But when discussing the world with Kawamura-san at the start, she said that she wanted to keep "Pokémon trainer throwing Pokéballs" as a separate thing. So, if it’s going to be a world of just Pokémon, which you can control, then the problem is how you make them communicate. After all, they have to be able to talk. And so there was much trial and error. At first we even considered having them say "pika-pika," and then have the meaning in parenthesis.

Ultimately, I think the world of Pokémon Mystery Dungeon was a great success. For Time/Darkness, we had a lot of comments from readers of Nintendo DREAM saying, "the story was amazing!" and "I cried!" How have you felt player reactions?

Tomie: As for me, I’m simply very happy. To be honest, that makes me more happy than the sales numbers. As someone who is a creator for a living, hearing that kind of reaction is a joy and gives me purpose in life. My feelings are really just, "thank you so much."

I get the impression that the stories are a lot more dramatic compared to the main Pokémon series. Was this always the direction you were going in while making it?

Tomie: I wouldn’t say that we were aiming to do that. To be honest, there was a lot of trial and error when it came to the scenarios. And there was a time when I considered going in a much more light-hearted direction. But then Ishihara-san said he wanted to "go with a classical story." And so I wondered how we could go with a classical approach. "Well, let’s go with a story of friendship between the protagonist and partner!" So after that was finally decided, I started writing what is now the finished story.

So Ishihara’s suggestion of "classical" is the reason for the current dramatic storylines.

Tomie: For instance, when it comes to Time/Darkness, there is a scene where bubbles are being blown by the coast. While writing the plot outline, I had decided at that point that I wanted to begin and end the story with bubbles. I thought that it was the life of the story while I was writing. As the graphics are also important for this scene, in spite of us not really having much time to spare, we used up a lot of time, and the person in charge of the graphics worked hard to depict it.

Then we should pay attention to the bubble scenes when playing Sky as well! By the way, what is the relationship between the worlds of Red/Blue and Time/Darkness?

Kawamura: That’s a secret. They might be connected, and they might not be connected. Perhaps it is a different era, or a different world. We’ll leave it at that (laughs).

It’s very interesting how unique Pokémon can be when it comes to personalities and the way they speak. Who is it that decides on such things? (Translator's note: "-desuwa" is a sentence-ending participle used primarily by characters who are supposed to be feminine and elegant.)

Tomie: It’s generally me. After deciding on the roles of the Pokémon, I make them talk in the way that I feel is right. However, there are times when it is the other way around. Where the speech patterns are already decided, and the role is considered later. This was the case for Sunflora in Time/Darkness, where Kawamura-san chose Sunflora for the role of the Pokémon who speaks with "-desuwa."

Kawamura: When it is a character that Tomie-san is very particular with, he is able to go on ahead with the specific scenario, but when that is not the case, there is just dialogue for Pokémon A and B, and then we choose a fitting Pokémon later.

Tomie: When I’m still at the point where the scenario is not fleshed out yet, for instance, like with the guild apprentices, the writing just mentions them as a large group. But by assigning roles for parts that I had just written in the spur of the moment, the story often starts to expand in various ways.

Was Bidoof’s tendency to say "-degesu" decided beforehand? (Translator's note: "-degesu" is an old-fashioned sentence-ending participle often used for comical purposes.)

Tomie: Bidoof came first. For some reason, Kawamura-san was a big fan of Bidoof, and would say, "please put Bidoof in it, please put Bidoof in it." And so I thought, "well, I better put Bidoof in it." I don’t know why, but he ended up saying "-degesu" (laughs).

Next, I would like to talk about characters who are especially popular in the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon series. Let’s start with Gengar from Red/Blue!

Kawamura: How nostalgic (laughs).

Tomie: From the beginning, I had been thinking of making Gengar a villain, and wrote up to the story’s ending that way. But then Kawamura-san said, "there should be a little hope for Gengar too." I thought it would be enough to just have Gengar pull out and save the protagonist from the underworld, but the others felt that Gengar was still a villain. And so that was why I started writing the story about Gengar and Gardevoir that happens after the ending. I felt that if I am going to write a conclusion for that story, then I also had to conclude the Ninetales legend as well. And so I faced it head-on while writing.

Kawamura: What we wanted to say was that "there are no bad Pokémon." Though, there are some who behave badly for a reason. I wanted to leave a reason or an anecdote that showed that Gengar was not a villain until the end. At first, it was really meant as a little bonus, so I didn’t expect as big of a reaction from players. Tomie-san’s scenario was also quite wonderful, and it was pretty much given the OK in one shot. To anyone who has not played it yet, please give it a try (laughs).

With Time/Darkness, we must start with Wigglytuff.

Tomie: Wigglytuff. This is going to be a little long (laughs). In Red/Blue, Wigglytuff was selling "Friend Areas," and while this might sound like a bad way of putting it, it was basically land flipping. At the time, my impression was just of a "single Pokémon who had a store," but I saw some fan opinions on the internet, and came to the realization that this character was more complicated than I thought. People were saying, "Wigglytuff says "friend, friend" a lot, but he doesn’t even have any friends."

Everyone: (laughs)

Tomie: I thought, "this character is actually quite deep." And so I started to think of using him as a sub-character in Time/Darkness. It was around that time that Kawamura-san said that she wanted something like a guild in Time/Darkness. We thought, if there is a guild, the protagonist and partner should live like apprentices. In that case, we’ll need a Guildmaster. Wigglytuff is the only one for that job! We decided it like that.

Guildmaster = Wigglytuff! It kind of seems straightforward, but maybe not…

Tomie: He is a genius. And as a genius, there are some things that only he knows, which dictates his actions. But it looks strange to those around him. But if you look at the big picture, it all comes together. He is that kind of character. And so I felt strongly about having Wigglytuff create a guild, so we could have the protagonist live there.

As it will spoil what happens after the ending, I cannot give too many details, but I really liked the part with the Grand Master of All Things Bad.

Kawamura: In that case, you’ll like Sky even more! Even from the music, it will hit you like Acupressure (laughs).

We cannot talk about Time/Darkness without bringing up Grovyle and Celebi. In the first place, why did you choose Grovyle for the criminal role?

Tomie: During the plot writing stage, it was actually Lucario who had the criminal role. And it was like that for quite a while. But one day, Kawamura-san said, "Lucario has a strong reputation for being a Pokémon of justice, and does not seem like a criminal." And so I started to think of which Pokémon I could use instead. Kawamura-san then selected a few candidates. And it was Grovyle who stood out more than the others. However, Grovyle is an evolved form of Treecko, which meant it could feel too similar to the protagonist and partner. We struggled over using it, but in the end, I think we made the right decision.

Why did you make Celebi a different color?

Tomie: In terms of the story’s setting, it was necessary for Celebi to be there. But when it came to having Celebi appear in the future world, Kawamura-san said, "there is a pink variant of Celebi, so let’s make her pink!" At that moment, my idea of Celebi changed into what is in the game.

Kawamura: The regular Celebi is green, and so if she is with Grovyle, it would be green and green. Also, I wanted her to seem special, as she has the role of the time traveler. A Celebi that is not normal, with a different color. And I chose pink to give off the impression of a girl.

In the official setting, Celebi does not have a gender.

Kawamura: When it comes to Pokémon Mystery Dungeon, due to circumstances with development, there was a need to decide on "girl talk" and "boy talk" in advance. And so we set temporary genders. I am sure you know about the Pokémon movie with Celebi ("Pokémon 4Ever", released in 2001), where Celebi had a mischievous and boyish personality. We wanted to be separate from that. It is just my fancy, but there is a proper reason for it (laughs).

I really like Celebi’s somewhat painful feelings towards Grovyle. While adventuring with Celebi in the future world, she says something quite different from the usual when you talk to her. And it is so…

Kawamura: You’ve played quite extensively (laughs).

Tomie: Those kinds of interactions between Grovyle and Celebi came out quite naturally as I was writing. I showed the other staff what I had written, and they said, "Celebi is tsundere, huh?" But I just thought, "oh, really?"

Kawamura: You didn’t write it like that deliberately.

Tomie: If anything, I was holding back there a little.

It was more extreme in the beginning!?

Everyone: (laughs)

Tomie: I wouldn't call it extreme, but it was a little more straightforward.

Kawamura: The future world is so dark and brutal, so I think that Tomie-san wanted to include that as a single bright storyline. Of course, if it depicted something too close to romantic emotion, then we would have to add a lot to the setting later… and so we kept it at a point where the players could just finish the story within their heads.

Tomie: Indeed. Though, I ended up having to write a Special Episode afterwards anyway.

In other words, Celebi will appear in a Special Episode!

Kawamura: Please look forward to it (laughs).

Also, in Pokémon Mystery Dungeon, the small characters really move with a lot of detail. It is very fun to watch, and I feel the intention behind it.

Tomie: The biggest thing is the love and passion of the person in charge! Also, whether they can make it while understanding how to stylize the character properly. Having a Pokémon jump up and say, "I’ll do my best!" and make it really look like it’s doing its best, that is the power of stylizing. Also, there is timing and pacing. A lot of small details. For instance, there is a scene in Treasure Town where Grovyle is being pulled away by Dusknoir. The others are all following Grovyle with their eyes, but the timing was purposely shifted for each. It’s these kinds of details and efforts that give them a soul and breathes life into the creatures. This is not me, but the work of Tanaka-san, who is really particular when creating.

Kawamura: A real character theater master (laughs).

Also, the Pokémon have to walk within the game. Is there someone who decides, for instance, which Pokémon walked on all fours or hops around? It was with this game that I first learned that Treecko walks on all fours.

Kawamura: There are times when we receive ideas from Chunsoft that are reviewed, and there are times when it has already been established, and we send them instructions on how to make it. Also, whether or not the results feel like a living creature, or if it is fitting for a friend who will always be walking with you. In the end, it is about love. Love!

Please leave a message for readers of Nintendo DREAM.

Kawamura: As the cover art suggests, it is an expansive, refreshing, enjoyable game that is also of great value. Additionally, this one includes something that will make you want to keep it in your bag, so please pay attention to that.

It’s the Sky Jukebox, right?

Ishigami: Compared to Time/Darkness, I think that this game has about 1.5 times more content. Not just in volume, but there are lots of new elements such as Spinda's Café, so you should be able to play it for a long time. Please give it a try.

Tomie: We really put our souls into making this game. So please, everyone. It would make me so happy if you would play it!

Nagahata: Combined with Time/Darkness, a lot of new elements have been added to Sky. My personal impression is that it has double the amount of content. It really is a good deal, and so I would very much like for people who have already played Time/Darkness, as well as people who have never experienced the series before, to play it.

Final question. What is your favorite Pokémon from Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Sky?

Kawamura: My favorite Pokémon is… all of them! However, if I had to choose just one, then it would be Lapras.

Tomie: During Time/Darkness, I kept saying that it was Palkia. I love the arrogant personality and sense that it is going wild. While writing the story, I wondered if such a violent Pokémon should really be a god (laughs). But it would be boring to say Palkia once again, so it’s going to be Sableye for "Sky."

Nagahata: I’ve been saying this for a long time now, but Bulbasaur really is my favorite. The reason is incredibly simple. Its Pokédex number is 001.

Ishigami: It’s Munchlax for me. Not only because it is cute, but I kind of like that from the beginning, it can do all kinds of moves at random with Metronome.

[sereia4skz]

Hi Yaya!! I hope you're not too busy with many requests and I hope you're okay! I wanted to ask for something with poly!skz where they all go to a festival of some sort and perhaps they end up walking too much and reader (who has some back problems), ends up being barely able to walk, and the guys are, worried but also help them out? I don't know how much sense this makes, if this is too detailed im sorry! Feel free to delete this, no worries!

drabble | we got you

pairing: poly!straykids x reader

genre: comfort

warnings: back problems magggi

word count: ~600

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

The festival had seemed like the perfect idea. Colorful lights, late spring air, music and laughter echoing between vendor booths. You were surrounded by the boys, arms bumping, hands held, too many snacks being passed around, Jeongin nearly choking on cotton candy after Hyunjin made him laugh too hard.

It was perfect. At first.

But you’d been walking for nearly four hours now. The cobblestone paths and uneven terrain of the fairground were doing no favors for your back. You’d tried to keep pace, tried to ignore the slowly tightening ache that always crept up your spine when you pushed too far.

Now, each step feels heavier. Your lower back burns. You're trying to stay in the conversation, to laugh at Changbin’s joke about Minho’s tragic attempts at the ring toss, but your smile falters as your body protests louder.

It’s Felix who notices first. You didn’t even realize you’d slowed until his hand gently brushes your arm. His brow furrows when he catches the way you’re favoring one leg, your weight shifting oddly.

“Hey, love,” he says softly, leaning closer so the others don’t hear just yet. “You hurting?”

You hesitate. But he sees right through it, because he knows. Because he’s been there too, wincing after too long in a chair, groaning about muscle tension that won’t quit. His voice lowers even more.

“Your back?”

You nod. It’s barely noticeable, but his expression softens immediately.

“Okay. I got you.” He turns around and gestures discreetly for the others. One by one, they slow down and fall into step near you and Felix.

“What’s going on?” Chan asks, and you can tell he already knows something’s wrong.

Felix answers for you. “Her back’s flaring up. It’s getting bad.”

You’re quick to shake your head. “I didn’t wanna ruin anything. We’re having fun, I just-”

“Sweetheart,” Minho says, and the word alone makes you pause, “you don’t have to push through pain to be with us. That’s not how this works.”

“I’m fine, really-”

“No, you're hurting,” Chan says, his voice gentle but firm. “That matters. You matter. Come here.”

Before you can argue again, Seungmin’s already pulling off his flannel to lay over Changbin’s arms, who’s crouched down in front of you.

“Hop on,” Changbin grins. “Piggyback time. We’ll switch off when I get tired.”

“Guys, no, it’s too much,”

“It’s really not,” Hyunjin chimes in, brushing hair from your face. “You’d do it for any of us.”

“Felix literally made us carry him halfway through Lotte World last year,” Jeongin says with a smirk. “We owe you.”

Felix gasps, clearly offended. “That was different, I had a flare-up and you dropped me!”

“You kissed my neck!” Jeongin defends himself, while Han just cackles behind him.

Laughter bubbles up from your chest despite the ache. You blink rapidly, eyes stinging for a reason that has nothing to do with pain.

“You guys are ridiculous,” you murmur.

“We’re yours,” Chan replies, and that silences the chaos for a heartbeat.

“You can let us take care of you,” Felix adds. “You’re not weak for needing help. You’re strong for letting us love all of you.”

And just like that, you melt.

Changbin carries you first. His arms are solid, his teasing gentle as he makes exaggerated sound effects with every step to get you to laugh. Hyunjin takes over next, spinning in slow circles when the line for food stalls gets too long. When it’s Chan's turn, he presses his cheek against your shoulder and whispers how proud he is of you for speaking up, even if you didn’t say a word.

Eventually, you end up nestled on a bench between Seungmin and Chan while the others grab snacks and warm drinks. Felix stays next to you, knees touching, his hand squeezing yours every so often.

Your back still aches. But it’s different now. Softer. More manageable.

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

taglist pt2: @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere

[savyindeepspace]

Letting Go

Description: Caleb, always taking the lead, always the protector. Letting you take care of him for once.

Tags: fem reader x Caleb, smut, edging, teasing, whiny-breathy-whimpery Caleb, slight plot building and angst

(I’m edging y’all too sorry)

*MDNI* 🔞

——————————————

The Colonel pinched the space between his furrowed brow, expelling a breath that carried exhaustion. Another file to read, another report to send, another failed mission from the Fleet who worked below him. Each moment driving him into regret. Regret of falling into this position—this god awful title. Then there was you, his treasure he’d sworn to protect. The weight that balanced his scales. After the explosion of your childhood home, losing his arm—becoming partly machine in the process, he remembered his purpose, which made it seem worth it.

A purpose you never asked him to choose. Always hovering in your presence, waiting for the hat to drop, to be a savior. It didn’t matter how often you reassured him, Caleb fought to be by your side into adulthood. Then there’s you, a strong force of your own. Having survived trials that could only be written in fiction—your reality. Brave wasn’t enough of a word to describe your level of resilience through pain you should have never been given. Yet, you lived—spitefully so. Caleb knew this, he never doubted your ability, but his insecurities plagued him into this mess of a man who thought that was what you needed, a guardian. A knight.

“I don’t need saving, I need a partner. Someone who will stand beside me.”

A phrase you grew to repeat, one he winced at, one that he didn’t want to absorb. Yet, you watched him come home every day, fading from the vibrant Caleb you grew fond of—fell in love with. His eyes were dim and bloodshot, skin dulled from his usual rosy flush, lips chapped. He barely took care of himself aside from basic needs. He attempted to eat, went for his morning runs that usually became walks, sleep a rare luxury. All from inside a shell he wouldn’t let you crack. “I just think you should take some time off, even a few days. You look…unwell, Caleb,” you expressed with worry lingering on your voice. His fingers gripped the fork in his hand a little tighter, “you know I can’t do that—,” “why not? Are you just going to work yourself to death?,” you argued, slamming your glass against the kitchen table with more force than you intended.

You stared at your plate of barely picked over breakfast, heart flickering behind your ribs. “Why don’t you let me help with anything? I’m more than capable…” Caleb mirrored you, pushing his scrambled eggs dismissively with his fork. It was quiet between you for too long, you sighed, scraping your plate into the trash and closing yourself in the bedroom. His head hung, palms rubbing against his temples. There was a lot he needed to let go of and it worried him that you wouldn’t be present when he did.

He lightly tapped the door with his knuckles, “Pips—honey,” he caught the familiar, but juvenile nickname on his tongue, an attempt at leaving the past behind. “Headin’ out…love you,” he murmured. Your back was pressed against the other side, letting his words sink into your skin. Caleb waited for a reply, a hum—anything. “Be safe,” you uttered, the sting of your voice felt like road rash, but he’d take it anyway. You heard the front door close softly with hesitation, like he was waiting one last time for you to come to him. Guilt crawled over you like ivy, ‘I should have said it back’, the thought droned in your ears like a siren. Reaching for your phone, you hurriedly typed an ‘I love you too’ and hit send. A soft smile lifted the frown Caleb wore, “see you tonight,” he replied, taking to the skies in a Fleet aircraft.

The same monotonous day passed for the both of you, and although the morning carried a tension like thick fog, you wanted to resolve this unnerving feeling. Because at the end of the day, you needed each other equally as much—the thread of your fates tied in a perfect knot. When Caleb stepped through the threshold of the front door, a relieved sigh blew from his nose. In his arms were paper bags filled with groceries. You met him half way between the living room and kitchen, where carpet met hardwood. He looked at you apologetically, “I got ingredients for that dish you had at the restaurant we went to on my birthday..and your favorite candy.”

The bags crinkled as he set them on the counter, stepping closer to you and taking your hands. His were still covered by his leather gloves, the material was smooth and cool. Caleb’s thumbs rubbed small circles on the back of your hands, “I’m sorry…for not letting you in and making you think you’re not strong enough to help me,” his voice was low, filling the space that closed between you. Stepping closer, he continued, “I let my insecurities get the best of me for too long, not wanting to give up the role of protecting you,” his sunset eyes lifted, meeting your gaze. You hummed kindly and nodded, urging him to continue. “Sometimes…I think you’re stronger than me,” the warmth of your bodies was grounding when his arms finally pulled you in, “but I know now not to overstep, not to smother you.” His hold traveled down to your waist, your fingers traced his back.

“I do want to be taken care of sometimes…to be vulnerable,” he rasped, the breathy confession swept over your ear like a warm breeze, “I didn’t realize how much I needed it until now.”

You smiled, cupping his sharp jaw, “that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do for you, Caleb.” Hugging each other tighter, you felt his biceps squeeze you with confirmation, reverence—your fingers dug into the rough fabric of his Fleet uniform. “Why don’t you go take a shower, I’ll put everything away,” you encouraged, giving him his first glimpse of care. A flicker of hesitation in his eyes and flinch of his muscles almost took over him by instinct, then he nodded, breaking your embrace. “Thank you, I won’t keep you waiting,” “it’s okay if you do.” His silhouette disappeared down the hallway, before he slipped into the bathroom, Caleb looked at you one last time, before he’d return someone new, and grinned.

The scalding stream of water poured over his frame, reddening his skin like a liquid brand. Caleb was always seeking sensation, yearning for touch. When his arm was replaced with the bionic prosthetic, he lost the ability to feel everything, including you and that hurt him the most. Always the thrill chaser, pain was the only way his mechanical nerves would respond. So that’s what he asked for, to bite him, pinch him, scratch ruddy marks into his back. To claim him as yours. You were reluctant at first, but the yearn in his gaze and need of his touch broke you.

Tonight you wanted to touch him softly, tenderly—to melt his tension off the bone.

You waited for Caleb on the bed, legs tucked to your side. He walked in the bedroom in only his boxers and a towel draped over his shoulders. His soft brown hair was slightly damp and plastered to his face. Shamelessly you let your eyes roam over his body, drinking in every muscle, scar, bruise—biting your bottom lip at the sight of his happy trail peaking from the waistband of his underwear. Caleb sat at the edge of the bed, ruffling the towel over his chestnut locks. “You feel better?,” you asked, your voice carrying a warm, soft hint of mirth. “I do,” he sighed, craning his neck with a brief stretch. Taking notice of his discomfort, you crawled behind him, sinking your thumbs into his traps. A satisfied groan reverberated from his chest, his head fell back from relief. “That feels so good…could you do it harder?,” he asked sheepishly. You hummed, sitting on your knees and bracing yourself to massage him firmer.

“Like this?,” you cooed, lips brushing his ear. It was subtle, but your tone changed, just enough to sound sensual rather than soothing. Caleb reached back, palming the flesh of your thigh to ground himself. “Y-yes…and my neck too, please.” Your movements moved with a gentle flow, like ocean waves lapping the shore. He melted under your molten palms, letting a pleasured sigh break from his lips. “I needed this…,” his voice a trembling murmur. You kissed between his shoulder blades, “I know…” Your fingertips smoothed over his abs, making his breath hitch. “I want to give you more.”

“Honey—,”

“Shhh…you make commands every day, Colonel. Let me take the reins.”

The low purr of your voice loosened his tightened muscles, sinking him deeper into the mattress. You pursed your lips along his upper back, up his neck and against his earlobe. It was astonishing, for the first time, feather–light touches brewed something in him that pain didn’t. “Alright…” he breathed as he surrendered to your touch, leaning a little heavier against you, pressing into your bosom.

“Good boy,” you praised, making the first crack in his mirror of resolve.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, slipping your arms through his elbows to have a better reach. It started with teasing patterns on his chest, making him gasp when you’d “accidentally” graze a nipple. You moved down the rolling hills of his abs, then lightly sinking your nails in on the way up. Caleb hissed through gritted teeth, “baby—“ You pressed a finger to his lips, “you’re doing well, just relax.” He swallowed, fingers still digging into your thigh, his other hand fisting the sheets. A small flame began to rise in his gut, he felt hot—feverishly hot. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck, and you licked it away swiftly with your tongue. He moaned, quietly, but it was the first pleasured sound that really made your ears perk up. “D’you like that?,” “mm-a lot,” his voice shook, a rosy blush blooming across his chest.

Boldly, you ran your finger under the elastic band of his boxers. Caleb almost caught your wrist, his arm twitched with anticipation. You noticed and grounded him with a trail of chaste kisses down his spine. “Keep going?,” you whispered against his skin.

“Please.”

You moaned, smoothing over his groin. He ached behind the thin fabric, so hard and desperate for friction. With your free hand you gave his clenched fist a reassuring pat, “I got you…” his fingers unfurled, a sharp gust of air broke from his lips. With one finger at a time, you breached the cotton barrier, tugging it down over his toned thighs. Caleb bit back a moan when the cool air met the heat of his throbbing length. You traced the prominent veins with your finger, “you’re so hard for me...” His cock twitched and breath stuttered, there was a slight curve in his back as he arched against you. A soft giggle vibrated through you, then you pushed him further, gliding a slow pass over his glossy tip with your thumb. Your lips closed around it, savoring the heady flavor.

“Can—can you hold it, please?”

You laced your fingers around the base, “of course I can, baby…,” he squirmed as you teased him with a single stroke, “can you spit on it for me?” A thick web of spit hung from his lips, your pupils dilated as it fell, making a wet plop against his crown. You let it run down the length before spreading it evenly with several languid pulls. “Haah—fuck…,” Caleb’s grip moved to your thigh again, his short nails slightly pinching the flesh. He grew more in your hand, you could feel his pulse fluttering against your palm. There was something so intoxicating about the drag of time you let pass between each stroke, it was a saccharine kind of addiction he could get used to. Caleb’s mind was murky, eyes screwed shut, breaths uneven. The contrast of your torturous ministrations paired with soothing praise made the hair on his nape stand.

“So good for me,” stroke “so patient,” you curled a second hand around him, increasing the pace, lightly squeezing his head at the top. A pained whimper caught in his mouth, “mmn, o–oh my god…!” His body leaned back, fully submitting to you. The tip of his cock wept with precum, the clear essence trickled over your fingers. “Yes, just like that baby, let it out for me—let it go,” you praised, your voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. Caleb’s hips began to roll and buck, a stinging heat was crawling up his body and his climax approached—and then you stopped. “Mm!, w-why’d you stop…?,” he whined, chest heaving and sweat rolling down the valley of his spine. You rubbed soothing patterns on his thighs, “I know baby, I know…just trust me.”

He sighed, conflicted with how intoxicating it was to be pent up, adding coals to stoke his flaming arousal, while begging—aching for release. This was just a taste of the kind of control you were exhibiting. You rested your hand on the planes of his throat, pulling his head back and melting a deep kiss against his parted lips. Just as he was feeling the high of your swirling tongues, you gripped him again, making him moan into your mouth. His noises were needy and desperate as you focused on the head, pumping it with reckless abandon. You could tell by the way he writhed when he was close—so you stopped again. “Please…just let me, I-I can’t take it,” his voice was raw with desperation. “Oh but you can, you’ve been so good up until now, don’t give out just yet,” you purred, petting his hair and kissing his neck.

There wasn’t much restraint left, Caleb was chipping away like a marble statue weathered by time and age. A part of you was proud of him for lasting this long, while something darker coiled in your belly. You tested him again, tapping his length firmly against your open palm. “Just,” slap “a little…” slap “longer.” Caleb chewed on the insides of his cheeks, trying to choke back the sounds erupting from his throat. Your fluid movements continued, increasing the pressure and speed as each minute passed. His breathing became erratic, he couldn’t help but thrust into your fist. You sank your teeth into his arm, pinching the flesh with your canines. “Don’t help me, you’re almost there…,” you said, keeping your voice at a sultry murmur.

“S’close baby, please—,” he pleaded, fighting back the urge to grind into your hand, to reach bliss at his own command. Holding him in both hands, you brought him closer to the edge, creating friction so delicious—so achingly tangible, he could taste it on his tongue. His moans were breathy, pretty and soft as you milked him dry, enough to finally reward him with release. “Ah—mmm, yes…like that. Please don’t stop again, baby.” You guided him to lean into your embrace, pressing your breasts against back. “That’s it, let it go, be a good boy for me and cum okay?”

The last crack split across his crumbling resolve. You felt his whole body tighten as he came. “F-fuck…I-I’m cumming so much…,” he gasped, spilling over your curled fingers like a geyser. Your hands kept their pace with each wave washing over him, allowing Caleb to finally grind through every pulse and throb. When the final ripple dissolved, his body fell slack in your arms, head resting on your shoulder. As he wound down, his breathing became more measured and calm, chest settling from its frantic heaving. You pursed reverent kisses to his temples, his jaw, his neck; peppering words of praise against his sweat dampened skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Caleb felt a tight pull in his chest where his heart strained. He regained a hair of strength, pulling you into an impassioned kiss. Your lips swept over each other’s like a slow dance, swirling your tongues and panting softly. A rosy blush warmed your cheeks as you pulled away, taking in his glazed expression. He pressed his forehead to yours, finally mustering his worn vocal cords to speak, “thank you…I love you…” “I love you too. I’m glad you let me show you.”

His hand slithered up your thigh, “but…I still feel like I have so much more to give you,” his voice no longer whiny, but dark and husky. “I’m still so full.”

Your cheeks became hot, there was a glimmer of something behind his eyes that sent a shiver through you. “Oh…,” you swallowed, inching closer to his lips, “what should we do about that?” When he heard the submission return in your tone, he moved with urgency, an insatiable hunger that tore through his body. Caleb caged you under his arms, “let me take care of you now…,” he growled, grazing your throat with his teeth. A soft moan fell from your lips, you couldn’t deny the heat blooming between your legs, how your arousal left a sticky mess in its wake.

Meeting his lidded gaze, you nodded, inviting him to take the lead. Caleb filled you deliberately again and again, indulging your deepest desires with his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Your bodies stayed intertwined for what felt like hours. When you finally collapsed on the bed, the hint of dawn’s light leaked through the curtains, emitting a soft glow over your dewy skin. You were lulled to sleep by the soft combing of Caleb’s fingers through your hair.

A staticky sound filled the space, his Fleet signal rang in his ear, “Colonel, your feedback is needed on an urgent matter.” His gaze fell to your sleeping form nuzzled against his chest, your words played over repeatedly in his mind as his adjutant waited for a response. He brought a small device to his lips, speaking in a low, yet commanding tone, “this matter can wait,” “but sir—.” The signal was abruptly cut.

He held you tighter, choosing to be by your side. Not to protect you, not to smother, but to rest by your side. For once he was also choosing himself.

End.

*~*~*~*

Writers note: thank you so much for reading. :) Please do not steal or repost. More LADs Fics are pinned on my profile.

[jan1on]

Silent Mistakes P.1

Summary: Y/n loves Lando, but she’s not sure which way he loves her back. Because these ‘mistakes’ stings more every time.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Situationship!Reader

Warnings: Sexual innuendos, Naked, Swearing, Drinking, Heartbreak.

AN: This is part one to a series I want to start called “Silent Mistakes.” I haven’t written a whole lot so hopefully this is okay and the other parts will be even better. I hope you guys will like this and if you have any ideas, thoughts or other things you want to talk about please share it with me!

It had been around a month since she last saw him, Lando. The guy who she loved so much, spent every night in the sheets with, travelled with, the one who she wasn’t together with but acted like she did. Until he didn’t, and everything just came crashing down on her. Lando told her he didn’t have time for the relationship anymore, that it would take too much time of his training, being with friends and focusing on his championship. And they didn’t argue or anything, but she hated him, not that she didn’t have any rights to, or maybe a bit, but they weren’t officially together so she didn’t know what was ethically correct to be upset over. But she missed him and hated him equally.

“What can I serve a lady like you tonight?” He asked, voice soft with that French English accent, even if she barely heard him over the loud music playing. “Do you like something sweet or are you more into things that stings a bit?” Stings… well sounds like he’s referring to her love life. But she nods, she likes those things, tequila mostly. “I enjoy the burn but I’ll be here for a while so I need to start easy.” She chuckled, smiling at him.

“So maybe you’ll like a Vodka soda then? Something easy but still has a kick?” He asked, already holding a glass in hand. “Yeah, that would be perfect.” She nodded, watching him make her drink. While she was watching him her friend Isla poked her arm and spun her around, making her see what she did. And there he was, Lando Norris, with some friends she recognised and some she didn’t, not that she had to.

Dressed in a black hoodie with the playboy bunny on it, she’s seen it before. He looked too good in that, not that she liked him, she wouldn’t. Why does he need to be here, nowadays it feels like he’s everywhere she wants to go. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Monaco is too small or she’s just looking for him every where she goes. Now it’s time to cross her fingers and hope he hasn’t seen her yet.

The drink was suddenly pushed over the shiny bar table and stopped in front of her. She swallowed it all at once and then went over to her friends who had walked away to a quieter spot in the club.

“Did you see him?” Isla asked even if she knew the answer already.

“Yeah I did, he looked ugly.” That made her friend snort, which made her chuckle too.

“I feel bad for you, a good man like that who has too much positive things about him, must be hard to get over.” Isla added while sipping on her drink.

“That did not make it any easier, thank you.” She chuckled, not taking it too hard over what her friend said.

“C’mon, we’re here to have fun, get drunk and get fucked, or get over stupid dicks.” Her other friend Chiara said, already jumping on the dance floor which made the group laugh.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop thinking about stupid boys.” Y/n said, following her friend out into the crowd of people on the dance floor.

They danced, drank and laughed until she received a notification from her phone.

MESSAGE

Lando Norris

I’m in the VIP

She didn’t really know what to reply. He was the one not to answer her, break her heart and she could go on forever. Not that he had cheated, they weren’t even together, it just stung anyway. She just couldn’t get over him and block him, so here she was. Having to reply or he’ll come searching for her she was sure, depending on the reason for him to text her.

Y/n 00:23

Should that be a newsflash?

Gosh, could he just let her move on for once?

Lando Norris 00:23

I want you to be here.

No, no, no. Not again, she didn’t like him, she shouldn’t let him do this to her. She knows he’s a good guy just as much as he’s an ass. Y/n could already see the stupid smirk on his face. If she could just tell him no, but maybe he’s changed, even if it’s only been a month.

She excused herself from her friends saying she’ll going to the toilet since she knew they would tell her it was a bad idea. Which it probably was, but she’s hurt, in love and maybe letting her emotions take over.

She arrived into the VIP section after bribing the bodyguard when he didn’t believe she knew Lando Norris and was with him.

“For being the VIP it’s very messy and still crowded.” She muttered to herself as she tried to find his booth.

Her body jumped when she felt a hand wrapping around her stomach when passing through the crowd of people. She tilted her head back and was met by the blue greenish eyes and those dark curls of Lando Norris.

“Hey.” He said with a smile as he looked down at her. The scruff on his jaw a bit more grown out since she saw him last, but he looked just as good. Well, fuck her.

“Hi.” She said, more mumbling to herself than anything.

He pushed her and himself through the room of bodies and found a booth for them. She sat down and he slid in next to her.

“Thought you said clubbing weren’t for you?” He said, playing with the bracelet he had on.

“My friends made me go out, I’d prefer to stay home really.” She answered, looking at the people dancing instead of him. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be at the gym or something? Or maybe you have more time now that I’m not there.” She didn’t mean to sound that bad, her emotions took over mostly, or maybe she did mean that.

That made Lando chuckle a bit, looking at her. “I deserved that, really. I was being a real dickhead to you and you didn’t deserve any of that.” He said, looking at her face.

Y/n was actually out of words, she didn’t really expect him to say that. She didn’t expect him to care about it.

“Thanks… and yeah, you were being a dickhead.” She confessed, looking up at him.

“Do you want to get a drink or get out of here?” He suggested with that glimt in his eye, she knew that meant trouble.

“Are you at least going to behave on the way to your place?” She asked, cocking a brow at him.

“You know I never behave.” He smirked and grabbed her hand, taking her out of the club.

As he pressed the button on his car key the lights from his Lamborghini flashed and he got into the drivers seat. Y/n slid into the passenger seat and the sound of his engine filled the silence.

As the drive started, Lando’s hand had moved itself to Jane’s thigh, fingers splayed out over the bare skin. Y/n could feel her heart beat faster but she played it off and just stared out into the city lights of Monaco.

“Didn’t you drink?” She asked, turning her head to look at him.

“No, not when I saw you there.” He answered, fingers caressing her thighs as he glanced over at her before looking back at the road.

“Mhmmm.” She hummed, not really knowing what to say, patiently waiting for them to arrive at his place.

His place

As soon as they stepped into the elevator and the doors closed he was on her. Hands splayed over her ass and mouth on hers.

“Mhmm.. I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his breath caressing her lips.

Her hands grabbed his curls and she kissed him back, she hated how his lips felt so soft, so good and so perfect against hers.

They made out until the elevator doors opened again and he pushed her in front of him, hand on her back as he unlocked his apartment.

She walked into the place she’s been in many times before, maybe a bit messier now, but she also knows he’s messy of him if he doesn’t expect any visit.

“It’s messy in here.” She teased, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

A smirk flashed on his face as he walked up to her, her hands pressing against his chest and fiddling with the buttons.

“Maybe I didn’t expect to have company on the way home.” He said, voice mischievous and warm against her skin. His hands going to her waist. Mouth pressing against her ear.

“Need you now.” He murmured, pulling back to look down at her face. He needed her so bad.

When they came into his bedroom his hands were already on the zipper of her dress. She hated how he was so good with everything.

“You need to stop using dresses with zippers, they’re so annoying.” He muttered as the zipper eventually got all the way down and she stepped out of it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He added, pushing her back onto the bed. Hands everywhere. His mouth moving over her collarbone and neck, nipping softly at her skin.

Soft, needy sounds left her lips as he was on her. “Please.” She breathed, tugging on his curls.

Just as he lifted his head from her neck his phone started ringing, his friend. Was he really going to take it right now?

“It’s my friend, he’s probably drunk. I need to take it.” He said and answered the phone while he was on top of her while she was lying there naked.

The call ended and Lando looked at her, not the good type of expression.

“I need to go, I have to drive him home.” Lando said, kissing her cleavage.

“Are you serious? He’s a grown up, call a cab for him.” Y/n said in disbelief. Was he going to leave her naked in his bed to drive his friend home? When he can just call a cab?

“Yes, Y/n. He doesn’t like cabs and they’re so expensive at night.” He replied, like he wasn’t hurting her feelings all over again.

“You can wait here if you want, I’ll be back soon.” He added, kissing her lips. Could he be more stupid?

[gaintsnowflake]

❆ THEIR EYES

PAIRING : tim drake x gn!reader

ONESHOT : thru everyone else eyes, as they slowly realize that tim cares for you more than he'd care to admit.

A/N : theehee

masterlist

     WHEN Dick agreed to go out for ice cream with you and Tim, he was expecting to pay. However, he wasn’t expecting you to wander off on your own. He wasn’t sure how he lost the two of you. He seemingly looked away for a second and was left with nothing but silence when he called your names.

     He groaned as he ate his ice cream and began to search for the two of you. The streets were dark and quiet, you weren’t in Gotham, in a small town on the outskirts that Tim claimed had the best ice cream ever. Which was proven true with each lick Dick took.

     And as he went to rest on a lonely bench behind the ice cream store, he heard your voice. 

     “Please, Tim, mine is so terrible,”  you whined through a laugh, words laced with playful frustration.

     “I told you you wouldn’t like it. You hate everything involved with that flavor, and you still got it,” Tim’s voice was all so familiar, too annoyed to budge it seemed. Bringing a light smile to Dick’s face as Tim hadn’t changed from the months they spent apart. 

     As dick took a few, slow calculated steps forward, planning to scare the two of you, is when he heard something that he expected less.

     “Fine. We can trade, only if you stop whining like a dog,” Tim gave in to your eyes. Something Dick wouldn’t imagine. 

     “Thank you Timothy,” your voice was like chores as he watched you switch your ice creams.

     “Yeah, yeah,” his response was short and seemingly aggravated. 

     Yet as Dick looked forward he could see something different. A twitch of Tim’s lip as he looked down at you. Not his normal dead, tired stare. No, it was a stare that Dick was unfamiliar with when it came to his younger brother. 

     It was something more, something of admiration and care. A softer look that one could even mistake for love. That’s when Dick decided to leave you too alone, as some things didn’t need a witness— just time.

    DAMIAN hated Tim. Well, hate might be too strong of a word, much to Damians dismay. He pretended he wanted Tim dead, never hiding the illusion that he wouldn’t know what to do if the boy truly did leave his life. 

    So when the two ended up sparing together in the cave, Damian did not hold his punches. He never did when it came to Tim. Yet maybe the third time Tim fell to the ground without much effort Damian began to realise something was different about him.

   “You’ve somehow managed to get worse,” he scoffed, circling

    “Wow, thanks,” Tim grumbled as he moved to get up. “Can we take a break for a minute? I need to check on something.”

    “Breaks are for the weak. But if you’re that desperate, I’ll allow it.”

     What caught Damian off guard wasn’t the break—it was the speed with which Tim snatched up his phone. Or maybe it had been the way he let out a breath as he checked his notifications. Or the way his shoulders seemed to untense when he typed.

     It only caused Damian to question his softened stare more. Curious to who was whittling down Tim to an actual person than an asshole who ran on nothing but annoyance, caffeine, and spite. A flicker of something else behind the usual apathy. Even Tim’s silence seemed less guarded.

     “I have to go,” Tim muttered, grabbing his things, already halfway out.

    “Skipping training?” Damian quirked a brow. “That’s a new low. What might it be this time? Fathers company failing under your guidance?” No response. “A new case you might be able to solve?” Not even a blink. “Your best friend need help with something?” A short pause. That was it. You. You needed him.

     Damian was quick to put it together as Tim muttered an annoyed goodbye and left to go see you. Yet his attitude wasn’t as damp as it typically was. 

     Something had changed. And the cause had your name written all over it.. One he wasn’t sure he could welcome just yet.

    TIM WASN’T responding to Barabra’s messages. 

    Intel was coming in from every corner of the city. Red Robin was needed. Chaos had taken root. But Tim had stopped moving—feet planted just outside an apartment building Barbara didn’t recognize.

    “I’m okay,” was all his message said.

    Then radio silence.

    She tried not to worry. She tried harder not to be angry. But when she tapped into the lenses in his cowl—tech meant for worst-case scenarios—her anger fell to confusion.

    She saw you.

   Tears in your eyes. Hands trembling slightly. And Tim—he wasn’t moving. He was just… waiting. Steady. Still.

   Whatever you said, whatever passed between you, Barbara never fully saw. Only a burner phone exchanged, and then Tim was gone again. Back into the shadows.

   She didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t understand what could be more important than a mission.

   But she felt it. Knew it.

   Whatever it was between you and Tim—it was real. More real than she expected.

     JASON didn’t know what he expected when you showed up at the manor that night. The whole family was torn to shreds after a particularly rough patrol. Blood. Bruises. Too many near-misses. 

     But you? You just walked in, barely saying a word, patch kit in hand. Straight to Tim.

     Maybe it was the way you leaned onto him, close enough to feel his breath, yet not close enough to be overbearing. Maybe it was the way your fingers gripped his face as he began to fight your help, yet not moving an inch away from you as you showed as lack of response. Maybe it was the way you apologized everytime he winced too hard. 

     Or maybe it was the way Tim looked at you. 

     His voice tells you the opposite of his eyes. As they searched your face up and down. Not like a soldier. Not like a vigilante. But like a man drowning in every ounce of peace you gave him. Like he’d been walking through fire and you were the first drop of rain in years. A sense of happiness. As if you were the sun that rose in the morning. A sense of hope. As if you were the boat that came to save him from the sea. 

     He looked at you like you gave him the will to live. And you in return patched his wounds so he could keep living. 

     Jason wasn’t sure what episode of the show he was on, but he knew that it was a shitty rom-com that he would watch to relearn what it was like to love. 

    YELLING crowded Tim’s room before he heard the slam of the front door. Bruce never left his room to see you leave, instead he left to watch the aftermath. He just watched the silence that followed swallow Tim whole. No anger. No fight. Just… silence.

     Tim was a ghost after that. Tasks unfinished. Coffee cold. Eyes flicking toward his vibrating phone every time it buzzed. Waiting. Hoping.

     Bruce didn’t understand it until hours later—when he passed Tim’s room and saw the laptop screen. A photo of the two of you. A photo where you were smiling. so brightly it hurt to look at. Tim, beside you. But Tim wasn’t looking at the camera.

     His eyes were on you.

     There was something there. Something Bruce hadn’t seen in him in years. Tim Drake was in love. Hopelessly. Maybe that’s why Bruce said nothing. Why he just nudged his son away from the screen. Sat him down. Distracted him with reports, intel, chess. Anything. Because maybe—just maybe—if Bruce kept him busy long enough… Tim would figure out what he needed.

     And he’d go find you again.

[starry-stay-s]

Family of 4 turns to family of 5...?

☆Sylus xnonmc! reader

☆girl dad Sylus💪

☆fluff, suggestive moment or two

☆authors note; ok so im gonna say this here but I may add it to my about me page, but all of the pics I make will tend to have a curly haired reader as its underrepresented in many fandoms and as someone will curls, I gotta be strong and write for those looking for it💪; working on some other works rn so bear(?) with me pls

☆warnings; children ig?, curly haired reader and daughter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since you married Sylus, you decided it'd be best to be a housewife. Sure, you loved your job and it's made good money, but logically you had no need for it. No need for the stressful written reports coworkers who were far too stubborn(and frankly, stupid) for their own good, only causing you more stress. And let's be honest here, Sylus's bank account will run dry when pigs fly, so why not bask in relaxation at home.

Ever since making this decision, you've slowly adjusted to his sleep schedule. Becoming more and more of a night owl every day. Yes, it wad a bit hard at first but now it's almost as if this had always been your schedule. While Sylus when to meetings, deals, auctions he deemed to dangerous for you, you cleaned the base, cooked for you(and the twins if they weren't with Sylus), and then simply did nothing.

Yep, absolutely nothing but lay on the couch, bed, whatever you deemed worthy that day. Sometimes you'd watch a show you've been wanting to cus never had time for, or a new movie, or read a book from your tragically long to be read list. And sometimes, when you were in an especially good mood, you'd go to your favorite café and go on a mini shopping spree, often buying things for Sylus, the twins and Mephisto, who you've come to peaceful terms with.

It was amazing, truly, finally getting relaxation as you got to do anything and everything you pleased, having your beloved come home everyday and grettjng you with a hug and kiss. And God don't even get started on how much Sylus loved this new arrangement. Knowing his kitten was at home waiting for him to return safely everyday as she got to be greedy and do whatever she pleased, it satisfied something deep within him.

It's been a about 7 months since the wedding and everything is fine, you've both long settled into this new routine. But you can't help but start to feel a little lonely. Sure, sometimes the twins are home, but they're usually off doing their own mischief. Mephisto stayed most of the times too but he was usually far too occupied with finding new additions for his hoard. And Sylus was usually out on business, doing who knows what who knows where.

You let your thoughts wander one day as you're cooking dinner for the 4 of you, yes the twins included because they're practically your children. Children, huh? Surr you weren't anywhere near being blood related but you cared for them like a mother would, making sure Sylus wouldn't punish them too harshly for one of their regular pranks and mischief, sometimes even getting in on it yourself. Thinking about it now, you and Sylus haven't really touched on that topic yet.

Would he want children? Did you want children? Would you be able to raise them here in the N109 Zone without putting them in danger? So many thoughts and insecurities clouded your mind as you continue cooking, not hearing the door open.

As you stir the pot, a pair of warm arms embrace you from behind. You shake your head clear of your thoughts, though some linger in the back of your head. You look back over your shoulder to meet Sylus's gaze. Smiling you turn back around to ensure dinner isn't burned.

"Welcome home, baby." You say as he nuzzles hus head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your warm and familiar scent. He let's out a soft hum, akin to a low purring that you feel rumbles his chest. He places feather light kisses on your neck, not saying anything but he didn't need too. On days like this he just needed to hold you, to remember that you're home and safe, that everything he does is for you, that even the rough days are worth it when he sees you at home, making dinner or seeing the charges on his card from your usual stores.

You turn off the stove, dinner done but wanting to be held a bit more. You lean back into him, laying your hands on his and his trails soft kisses up higher and higher until he finally reached your lips. The kiss is deep, slow as if hes trying to memorize every line and curve of your lips.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes again, and you can't help but imagine having a mini Sylus running around, with his silver locks and ruby red eyes. You try to stop thinking about it, but you can't, maybe you'd been seeing too many cute baby tiktoks, but you suddenly have this urge to just have his children. He notices thoughts fogging your mind.

"Whats wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me anything." He says softly, searching your eyes for any clue as to what you're thinking about. If only he knew you were thinking about jumping his bones until Chinas birth rates skyrocket-

"I've been... thinking about us. And how maybe instead of it being the four of us it could be... five." You say hesitantly, unsure of his reaction. You quickly look away and busy yourself with plating the food, slipping through his arms, leaving them limp at his side as he stares at you, eyes wider than usual. As you place the plates on the table and are about to call Luke and Kieran, he grabs your wrist gently.

"Are you saying... you want a child with me?" He asks softly, you turn to look at him and see the vulnerability in his eyes. The way he waits for your response, pupils blown wide and jaw slack, makes you smile.

"Yeah, I am, is that a problem?" You say with a nod, meeting his gaze. He shakes his head and just stares for a while, his expression of pure devotion like you just told him you hung up stars and moon yourself. You lead him to his chair and sit him down as he continues to star at you with the same look, calling out for the twins to come join you two. You hear a clambering wave of footsteps as they come from who knows where and stop in front of you, out of breath and mock saluting.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bossman" they say in their usual perfect harmony before settling down at their respective seats, you joining them. As you all eat, Sylus's eyes never leave you, his expression has changed to mask what he was feeling but you could still tell by that glint in his eyes. The twins talk most of the time per usual, about what the did and what they wanna do, as they stuff their faces. Sometimes it genuinely concerns you that anything you make them could become a choking hazard if it's them who's eating it. You add comments every now and then, getting up when everyone has finished and moving the dishes to thre sink. The twins thank you once more before running off, back to their usual shenanigans. Sylus moves silently beside you, helping you do the dishes.

You use a kitchen towel to dry your hands, passing it to Sylus when youre done. You stand there, leaning your hip against the counter, facing him with loosely crossed arms. He sets the towel back where it was before and watches you before gently speaking.

"So, children, huh, kitten? If that's what you wanted you could've told me sooner, you know your wish is my command." He says.

"I know, its just I didn't really think much about it until recently and... I dont know, I guess I was scared to mention it to you." You respond quietly, your eyes averting from his.

"What did you think id say, sweetie? I may be the big bad bossman of Onychinus to everyone else, but to you im just Sylus." He uses two fingers to gently grab your chin and turns you towards him, your eyes meeting again.

"I know, I know. But... would you want children with me?" You say with uncertainty.

"I thought you'd never ask, kitten. I want anything you're willing to give me, and if children is one then id gladly take all of them." He quietly affirms, his gaze intense but loving.

"All of them? It's not I'm not giving you a whole soccer team." You say, smiling with a playful tone.

"Pity, I was hoping for two so they can compete against the other." he says with his usual smirk, tone teasing as he slowly embraces you.

You giggle and lean into him, your weight. comfortable weight against him. He kisses your head and quickly picks you up, placing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. You gasp in shock, clinging onto whatever you could as you laughed.

"Sylus, put me down! Where are you taking me?" You ask, softly hitting his back. He continues walking through the house as he chuckles.

"To get started on making our two soccer teams." He says and you could practically hear his smug grin. You continue hitting his back and laughing. He opens the door to your shred bedroom and lays you on the bed, crawling over you and kissing your lips gently as you hear him lock the door with his evol.

"Make my time worth it and we'll see about the soccer teams." You say gently against his lips. Hi smirks and presses his weight against you, your lips slotting against each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four years later you find yourself bathing your daughter, Nora, as Sylus sets everything she needs for after in yours and Sylus's shared room. She giggles in the bath, playing with the bubbles, face covered in them as she tried getting them on you too. Soon you burst her bubble(pun intended, please laugh) and get her out of the bath, ending her fun. You wrap her in her dragon hooded towel that she says looks just like her papa. AS you carry her out, your meet with the sigh of Sylus carefully arranging her pajamas. You smile and set her down, drying her completely before having Sylus get her dressed. She giggled the whole time, enjoying his attention. You went to find her brush and handed it to Sylus, as she refused to let you do her hair after bath time.

He gently brushed through the wet curls as she babbled on about what she was playing in the tub with you. He nodded along, listening attentively as if it was the most important business deal. He gently styles her curls as she continue, talking about whatever comes to her mind. Once he's done he gently puts on her bonnet, kissing her now mostly covered forehead. She jumps up and smiles, tackling him in a hug. He dramatically falls down on the bed, her laying on top of him, letting her play around with him, a soft smile on his face, his gaze soft as he watches her.

You watch quietly as you finish getting ready for bed yourself. You sneak up on her, quickly picking her up and spinning in a circle. She squeals, her adorable laughter filling the air, her dimples on full display.

"Papa! Save meeee!" She screams, giggling as you carry her away and to her room to put her to bed.

"Im coming, princess." He says as he follows you in a light jog. You look back and immediately walk away faster, smiling.

"I dont think so, this is my pretty princess!" You say as you make it into her room, her flailing in her arms as she waits for Sylus, who walks in mere seconds later.

"Hand over my dear princess before I take drastic measures." He says, standing just beyond the rooms doorway. You pretend to think about it as your daughter looks at you, eyes just as ruby as Sylus's wide with hope.

"Mm, I dont think so, I think I'll keep her to myself."

"You've left me no choice." He says, smirking and sending a small chill down your spine. The next thing you know his evol is pulling Nora out of your arms and behind him as he tickles you. You gasp and panic, trying to escape the attack, laughter filling the air.

"DAmmit, Sylus, let go!" You say through gasps of breath, trying not to die as he continues the assault, your daughter finding your suffering enjoyable as she laughs as well. He only lets go after a few more moments, tear falling out the corners of your eyes as you gasp to catch your breath, bunched over. He grabs your daughter and hold her tightly, kissing her cheek.

"My beloved princess is saved, did I do well, your highness?" he says to her, still playing along as your daughter lets out a final giggle and nods.

"Very good papa, you defeated the monster! So you have the honor of reading my bedtime story." She says matter of factly, already willing out of his arms, past you and into her bed. She gets under the covers and lays down, waiting for Sylus to follow and read to her. He chuckles and follows, sitting in the chair beside her bed for this sole purpose. He grabs the book she always asks for, about a princess being saved by the dragon instead of the prince. He looks over at you, who's barely recovering from the brutal attack. You glare at him, though there's no real heat behind it as you walk closer and kiss your daughters head.

"Goodnight, Nora. Sweet dreams, and only one story alright?" You say softly, staring at her lovingly as you wait for her answer.

"Yes, mama! Night night!" She says with a nod, practically shooing you away so she can have time with her father. You chuckle and walk out the room, settling into yours and Sylus's bed.

Once you leave the room, Sylus begins the story hes read at least a million times. Now Nora always has two reactions to the story; once, she asks Sylus to read it over and over again, and he does because for his daughter, hes a weak man, her ultimate weapon her pout and puppy eyes. Or two, she falls asleep to the low sound of Sylus's voice, a noise so comforting for her that she can't help but become sleepy before he's even halfway through the story. When this happens, he finishes the story, though he knows shes asleep, because he know she'll wake if he doesn't(it happened one too many times and hes finally learned his lesson)

This night sits the latter, her big crimson eyes drifting closed as hes only half way done reading. He continues in a softer voice now, ending the story and kissing her forehead, his whisper a breath.

"Goodnight, my princess. I love you dearly, sweet dreams." He puts the book back quietly and fixes her blanket before staring at her. Her little pink bonnet securely covered her silver curls, the ones you so diligently taught him how to care for and style. Her eyes, now closed but a perfect copy of his, her lips full and plush just like his as well. He quietly chuckles, thinking about how your genes didn't even bother fighting. He gets up with a small smile, making his way to your bed.

There you lie half awake, wanting to wait for him but exhaustion from the day catching up far more quickly than intended. You barely notice him walking in, only noticing him when his arms wrapped around you from behind. He whispers into your ear softly.

"Go to sleep, kitten, im here." He continues whispering sweet nothings until you fall asleep, which doesn't take long. Once he hears your breathing even out, he settles in more and sighs, thinking about how amazing his life turned out of be.

Not once did he think this kind of domestic life was possible, but the ring on your finger and Nora were proof that even someone like him could have a happy ending.

[ilovemarvel97]

Written in Our Souls - Part 14

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda’s nausea continues.

Word Count: 4,375

Warnings: fluff

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

The nausea didn’t stop.

It became a pattern—subtle at first, then impossible to ignore. Every morning, Wanda would rush to the bathroom before her eyes had even fully opened, groaning softly as she curled over the toilet. Y/N was always there, rubbing her back, whispering soft reassurances, her voice laced with growing worry.

Breakfast was now a struggle. The smell of eggs turned Wanda’s stomach. Garlic made her gag. Even the scent of freshly brewed coffee, once a comfort, sent her reeling. The only thing that calmed her was Y/N—her scent, her touch, her voice. As soon as Y/N was near, Wanda’s breathing steadied, her nausea eased. It was like her body knew exactly what it needed to feel safe.

But Wanda wasn’t safe—not from the truth unraveling quietly in her mind.

She was late.

Three weeks late.

And deep down, she knew what that might mean.

She hadn’t said anything. Not yet. Not when they’d only been together for six months. Not when everything between them still felt fragile and sacred. Not when the truth would force her to admit what she’d done.

She sat on the edge of the bed that morning, pale and trembling slightly. Y/N was in the kitchen, making toast—just butter, plain and safe. Wanda’s hands were folded tightly in her lap, her heart pounding with guilt.

It had been meant to be a gift.

A spell she wove with so much love and care, enchanted delicately into the strap they’d chosen together. She wanted to make their intimacy feel more deeper. Something Y/N could feel together with her. She’d linked it to her magic so that when they made love, Y/N could feel everything. Not just touch, but warmth, closeness, connection.

She didn’t know it would work this…real. 

She pressed a hand to her abdomen, still soft and unchanged.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention. Y/N appeared in the doorway with a plate of toast and a glass of water, her brow creased with gentle concern. She set the plate down on the nightstand and knelt beside her.

“You’re scaring me, baby,” Y/N said softly. “This isn’t just a stomach bug. Something’s going on. Please… talk to me.”

Wanda blinked fast, willing the sting behind her eyes to fade. Her throat tightened.

She wanted to say it. I think I’m pregnant. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’m scared too.

But all she could see was Y/N’s face—the love in her eyes, the trust—and the terrifying thought: What if she thinks I betrayed her? What if she thinks I was with someone else?

So instead, Wanda leaned forward, cupped Y/N’s face with shaking hands, and whispered, “Just… hold me. Please.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She climbed up beside her on the bed and wrapped her arms around her, holding her like she always did—gently, completely, without judgment.

Wanda pressed her face into Y/N’s neck, breathing her in like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. And for now, it was. Her nausea subsiding immediately. 

But the truth pressed heavy against her chest.

And Wanda knew she couldn’t hide it much longer.

---

The next morning, the nausea hit harder than ever.

Wanda barely made it to the bathroom in time, the retching violent, exhausting. She clutched the edge of the sink afterward, knuckles white, heart racing. Her legs trembled beneath her. She rinsed her mouth, splashed cold water on her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to look in the mirror.

She didn’t recognize the reflection these days—tired eyes, pale skin, guilt sitting in her chest like a second heartbeat.

Behind her, the door creaked open.

Y/N stepped in quietly, eyes instantly scanning Wanda’s reflection. “Baby…”

Wanda turned toward her, lips parting to speak, to offer another half-truth—just a stomach bug, I’ll be fine,—but something stopped her this time.

Y/N wasn’t looking at her like someone who needed an excuse. She was looking at her like someone who already knew something wasn’t being said—and was terrified of what it might be.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Wanda whispered, voice cracking.

Y/N crossed the room in two steps, cupping her face. “Then don’t. Just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. Her hands rose slowly, trembling, as she pressed them over Y/N’s on her cheeks.

“It’s not food poisoning,” she said softly. “It’s not stress. I’m… late.”

Y/N blinked, not understanding at first. “Late?”

Wanda nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then, barely audible:

“I think I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like a lightning strike.

Y/N stepped back slightly, her hands falling away. “But… how? We’re both… you and I…” Her brows furrowed, confusion shadowing her features before realization began to flicker behind her eyes.

Wanda swallowed hard. “You know I enchanted the strap, right? To make it feel like a real one for you?”

Y/N nodded slowly.

“I… I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted us to feel everything together. I didn’t even think but…” Wanda looked down, shame washing over her. “Maybe our soulmate bond got linked or…I don’t know…I never imagined it could actually…”

“Create life,” Y/N finished for her, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

Wanda’s heart raced. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t dare look up.

Y/N smiles lovingly as she caress Wanda’s cheek, “did you take the test?” 

Wanda shook her head slowly, eyes still cast downward. “No… I was too scared,” she whispered. “What if it’s true? What if it’s not? Either answer would change everything.”

Y/N’s thumb traced gently along Wanda’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice steady and warm. “We already changed everything the second we chose each other. Nothing could make me walk away. Not even this.”

Wanda’s gaze finally lifted, hesitant and glassy. Y/N was smiling—gently, openly, without a trace of fear. Only love. Only faith.

“Come on,” Y/N said, brushing a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear. “Let’s take it together. You don’t have to be scared alone.”

A shaky breath left Wanda, a tiny laugh breaking through the tension. “You really want to be in the bathroom with me while I pee on a stick?”

Y/N grinned. “We’ve fought aliens and gods side by side, Wands. I think I can handle three minutes of waiting on a pregnancy test.”

That finally pulled a smile from Wanda, a real one, small but honest. She nodded, then leaned forward to press her forehead to Y/N’s.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Wait here” Y/N kiss her lips softly before super speeding away. 

Wanda watched her go, the warmth of that kiss still lingering on her lips, her heart pounding in a mix of nerves and hope. The silence of the room felt heavy, but in the quiet, she could almost hear the steady rhythm of Y/N’s presence beside her, even when she was gone.

A few minutes later, Y/N zipped back into the bathroom, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, the pregnancy test in hand.

Wanda’s breath hitched as Y/N held it out gently, eyes full of tenderness and unwavering support.

“No matter what it says,” Y/N whispered, “we face it together. Always.”

Wanda reached out, fingers trembling as she took the test, the world narrowing down to this fragile, pivotal moment between them.

Wanda unwrapped the test with slightly shaking hands, her eyes fixed on it like it might explode. Y/N didn’t rush her. She just stood close, steady as ever, letting Wanda set the pace.

When Wanda finally disappeared into the bathroom stall, Y/N stood outside the door, hands in her pockets, trying not to pace. She could hear the quiet sounds of Wanda following the instructions. Then a long silence. Then the sound of the test being set down.

The toilet flushed. Water ran. And then the door creaked open.

Wanda stepped out, eyes wide and uncertain, the test clenched in her hand.

“It says to wait three minutes,” she said quietly, voice tight.

Y/N nodded. “Okay. Timer’s on.”

She gently took Wanda’s hand—the one not holding the test—and led her to sit on the edge of the bathtub with her. Y/N set her phone timer, placed it face down on the counter, and then wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulders, pulling her close.

Wanda leaned into her immediately, burying her face in Y/N’s neck. Her breathing was shallow, uneven.

“I’m terrified,” she whispered.

“I know,” Y/N murmured into her hair. “Me too. But whatever happens, we’ve got this. I promise.”

The bond between them pulsed—calm, warm, grounding—and Wanda clung to it like a lifeline.

Three minutes had never felt so long.

When the timer finally buzzed, Y/N reached out with a steady hand, silencing it. Then she glanced at Wanda.

“You want me to look first?”

Wanda hesitated, then gave the faintest nod, barely breathing.

Y/N picked up the test, looked down at it—then stilled.

Her lips parted. Her eyes widened slightly.

Wanda’s heart felt like it stopped. “Y/N?” she whispered, barely audible.

Y/N turned to her slowly, her expression soft, stunned, and impossibly full of emotion.

She nodded.

“It’s positive.”

Wanda stared, lips trembling, as tears filled her eyes. “Oh my god…”

Y/N was already pulling her into her arms, holding her so tightly, so carefully, as if she were cradling something sacred. And maybe she was. Wanda sobbed against her shoulder—not just from fear, but from awe, from the overwhelming realization of what they had created together.

They stayed like that for minutes, tangled in each other, the test resting forgotten on the counter.

Eventually, Y/N whispered into her hair, “We’re gonna be parents, Wands.”

And Wanda, still crying, still smiling through it, whispered back:

“We already are.”

Y/N didn’t let go—not when Wanda’s breath caught in her throat again, not when another tear slid down her cheek, not when her whole body trembled with the weight of what this meant. She just held her tighter, firmer, like she could absorb all the fear and replace it with love.

With certainty.

Wanda clutched the fabric of Y/N’s shirt. “This shouldn’t even be possible,” she murmured, voice muffled by Y/N’s shoulder. “It was just a spell… it wasn’t supposed to do this. I just wanted to make you feel closer, not—”

“Hey.” Y/N leaned back enough to take her face gently in her hands. “I know. I know you didn’t plan this. But magic or not… it’s ours. You didn’t mess anything up.”

Wanda searched her eyes—scared, vulnerable, still unsure.

“I don’t want you to think I was trying to trap you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Or that I betrayed you. I didn’t even know this kind of magic existed…”

Y/N gave her a look so loving it nearly undid her. “You’re not capable of trapping me. And you could never betray me. Wanda, I know your heart. I feel it. Every second. We are soulmates. And this is the most beautiful thing that could ever happen.”

Wanda’s lips trembled, more tears slipping free, but this time they weren’t from fear—they were from something deeper. A kind of quiet, overwhelming relief that flooded her chest and made her limbs weak.

“You really mean that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N leaned in and kissed her gently—slow, lingering, filled with the kind of reassurance words could never give. Then she pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against Wanda’s again, both of them breathing each other in.

“I mean every word,” Y/N whispered. “This isn’t something that happened to us. This is something we made. Something born from love and magic and everything we are.”

Wanda nodded, finally starting to believe it. “I just… I was so scared. It’s only been six months since we finally got together and now everything’s changing so fast—”

“It is,” Y/N agreed softly, brushing her thumb along Wanda’s cheek. “But love’s never been slow for us, has it? We’ve been through battles, heartbreak, hell—and we found our way to each other. You may think this is fast… but I loved the idea of you since your name appeared on my wrist. If you think that way, it’s not really fast” 

Wanda let out a soft, choked laugh at that, her heart twisting with affection. Her fingers tightened around Y/N’s shirt again, grounding herself in her soulmate’s presence.

“You really are the most ridiculous, romantic woman I’ve ever met,” she whispered, brushing her nose against Y/N’s.

Y/N smiled, eyes crinkling with warmth. “Takes one to love one.”

Wanda’s tears started again, but this time they flowed freely, with no resistance—tears of acceptance, of safety, of awe.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she whispered.

Y/N shook her head gently. “No. We didn’t get lucky. We got meant to be.”

Silence fell between them again, but it was soft, safe, filled with more than words could carry. Wanda rested her head against Y/N’s shoulder, both of their hands still cradling the small space between them. The place where something impossible was now entirely real.

After a long moment, Wanda murmured, “I think I want to tell the team soon.”

Y/N chuckled. “I was wondering how long it’d take for you to suggest a dramatic reveal. Do we go full soap opera? Or maybe just drop it during breakfast like it’s no big deal?”

Wanda looked up at her, a playful sparkle finally peeking through the emotion in her eyes. “Well, we could let Nat find the test in the trash…”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Please no. I want to live.”

They both laughed—really laughed—and that sound, after all the fear and doubt, felt like a blessing.

Wanda leaned in and whispered against Y/N’s lips, “We’re going to be okay, right?”

Y/N kissed her softly and nodded. “We’re going to be amazing.”

---

Two Weeks Later

The world outside their shared bedroom hadn’t changed, but for Wanda and Y/N, everything had.

In public, it was business as usual—training sessions, mission briefings, late-night team dinners. But behind closed doors, they whispered about baby names, stole quiet moments to feel the faint pulse of magic warming beneath Wanda’s skin, and shared soft, sleepy kisses before Y/N pressed her hand to Wanda’s belly and whispered goodnight to someone only they knew existed.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to tell anyone. It was just… fragile still. Sacred. The kind of joy that felt like it would dissolve if exposed to too many eyes too soon.

And despite wanting to tell everyone at the beginning, Wanda wasn’t ready for questions she couldn’t answer—not about the magic, or the biology, or the way their bond had rewritten what was supposed to be possible.

Not yet.

So they kept it theirs.

That morning, Wanda sat at the compound’s kitchen island, nursing a cup of peppermint tea while pretending to scroll through her phone. Y/N stood across from her, slicing apples with ridiculous care.

“You know you don’t have to cut them like that,” Wanda said with a raised brow.

“I do,” Y/N replied without looking up, “because you gagged the last time I brought them in wedges.”

Wanda wrinkled her nose. “They were… aggressive wedges.”

Y/N smirked. “Can’t have the mother of my child assaulted by fruit.”

Wanda flushed and ducked her head quickly, the words still so new they made her heart flutter every time. She placed her hand over her lower stomach almost instinctively, fingers splayed gently.

Mother of my child.

She was still wrapping her head around it.

The quiet was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Please tell me that’s not breakfast.”

Nat.

Wanda jolted, nearly knocking over her tea. Y/N stepped in front of her in a second, casual but subtly protective, slipping the plate of apple slices toward the center of the counter.

“Good morning to you too,” Y/N said, cool as ever.

Nat raised an eyebrow, eyeing the scene. Wanda looked unusually pale. Y/N looked unusually… alert. It wasn’t suspicious. Not yet.

Just curious.

“Morning,” Nat replied, grabbing a coffee. “You two are up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Wanda murmured.

Nat’s eyes flicked to Y/N’s.

“Nightmares?”

“No,” Y/N said quickly. “Just… got restless.”

Nat took a slow sip of her drink. “Right.”

She didn’t press. But she didn’t stop watching, either.

When she finally wandered off toward the training room, Wanda let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Y/N leaned over, kissed her temple, and whispered, “We’re terrible liars.”

Wanda let out a shaky laugh. “We’ll need to be better. I think Nat suspects something already.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You want to tell her?”

Wanda thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not yet. Just a little longer.”

Y/N nodded. “As long as you need. This gets to be ours for a while.”

Wanda smiled softly. “Ours.”

Wanda reached her hands up to Y/N’s nape, fingers threading gently into her hair, and pulled her down into a kiss—soft, slow, and full of emotion that words couldn’t quite capture. It was the kind of kiss that said thank you, and I’m scared, and I love you more than I know how to say all at once.

Y/N melted into it, one hand bracing against the counter beside Wanda and the other resting just above her hip, careful and reverent, like touching anything more might break the fragile peace of the moment.

When they pulled apart, Wanda kept her forehead resting against Y/N’s, her hands still cradling the back of her neck.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she whispered. “With this… with us. With everything.”

Y/N’s thumb traced a slow circle on her waist. “We don’t have to know everything. We just have to stay here—in this. Together.”

Wanda nodded, her eyes misty but steady now. “You make me feel safe.”

“You are safe,” Y/N promised, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. “With me, always.”

For a long beat, the world faded to just them. The quiet hum of the fridge, the distant sound of Sam yelling at someone in the training room, the clink of Natasha’s coffee mug being set down somewhere far—all of it blurred into background noise.

What mattered was this. The warmth between them. The secret they shared. The future growing quietly, impossibly, within Wanda—made of love, magic, and everything they never thought could be real.

And somehow, it was.

---

Few Days Later

The days that followed were quiet, filled with soft mornings and hidden smiles. Wanda had always been close to Y/N, but now she clung to her more than ever—especially in the early hours. Each morning, like clockwork, Wanda would burrow into Y/N’s chest, nose tucked just below her collarbone, where her soulmate’s scent was strongest. It was the only thing that eased her nausea, her nerves, her overwhelming emotions.

Y/N quickly learned to wake earlier just to hold her. She’d stroke Wanda’s hair and whisper silly things or gentle reassurances while Wanda’s breathing evened out again. They hadn’t said the word “pregnant” since that night, but it was there between them—in the way Y/N rubbed Wanda’s back, or how she kept a protective hand on her lower stomach when they suddled. It was quiet, sacred, and just theirs.

They didn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Wanda wasn’t ready, and Y/N respected that completely. She didn’t let Wanda train like before. The most she allowed was gentle stretching and walks around the property. When Nat raised an eyebrow about Wanda skipping combat sessions, Y/N had simply glared—sharp, dangerous, and so unlike her usual calm. Natasha hadn’t asked again.

---

Mission Briefing Room:

Everyone was gathered in the debriefing room, lounging around the table or leaning against walls while holograms flickered above. Steve stood at the head of the table, tapping a tablet.

“This mission is strictly numbers-based,” he said. “Intel recovery, cross-verification, nothing that’s supposed to turn into a fight.”

“Keyword: supposed to,” Natasha muttered, sipping coffee.

Wanda sat close beside Y/N, closer than usual, thigh pressed tightly against hers. Her hand rested on Y/N’s knee under the table, thumb drawing slow circles. She looked calm, but Y/N could feel the tension humming just beneath her skin.

Y/N leaned in slightly, murmuring, “You okay?”

Wanda gave a small nod, then added under her breath, “Just… stay close, alright?”

“Always,” Y/N replied, brushing her pinky gently against Wanda’s.

Steve continued outlining the mission parameters, oblivious to the quiet exchange between soulmates.

Wanda’s eyes flicked to the screen. But her fingers never left Y/N’s.

The briefing wrapped up with the usual chatter, chairs scraping back and team members peeling off to gear up. The mission was scheduled to launch in under two hours.

Y/N lingered behind, waiting until the others filtered out. Wanda was still by her side, arms folded loosely as she stared at the mission schematic, but Y/N wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. She was looking at her.

“Wanda,” she said softly.

Wanda glanced up, reading the shift in her voice instantly. “What is it?”

Y/N stepped closer, lowering her voice even though the room was empty. “I don’t want you to come on this one.”

Wanda blinked, surprised. “What?”

Y/N reached out and gently took her hand. “I know it’s not supposed to be dangerous, but missions never go how they’re supposed to. And if something happened…” Her voice dipped, and she exhaled. “I wouldn’t be able to focus. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Wanda hesitated, her fingers tightening around Y/N’s. “I can take care of myself, you know that.”

“I do,” Y/N said, nodding. “But I’m scared…if something happens to you or the baby…”

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat at the word.

The baby.

It sounded so real when Y/N said it—so much more than a secret, more than a quiet truth held between kisses and morning clings. It was a life. Their life. Growing slowly inside her. And Y/N was already protecting them both with that fierce, unwavering love she carried in everything she did.

Wanda’s expression softened. “Y/N…”

Y/N stepped closer, voice low and full of emotion. “You’ve always been strong. You’ve always fought. But this… this isn’t just another fight. This is different. You’ve got two heartbeats now. And I just��I can’t risk losing either of them.”

Wanda looked at her, eyes full of something she couldn’t quite name—grief at being sidelined, gratitude for being seen, fear of change, love so thick it nearly hurt.

A beat passed. Then she nodded.

“You’re not going to lose us,” she whispered. “We’ll be right here. Waiting for you to come home.”

Y/N smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “That’s all I need.”

Wanda closed her eyes and leaned into her. She could still taste the worry on Y/N’s lips. But beneath it, deeper, was something steadier—something that told her they were going to be okay.

Even if things were changing, one thing hadn’t: they still belonged to each other.

---

The Quinjet engines rumbled to life as the team loaded up, laughter and idle chatter muffled by mission focus. Wanda stood just outside the ramp, arms crossed over her chest, trying to look composed. But Y/N could see right through her.

They lingered behind as the rest of the team boarded.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” Y/N promised, adjusting the straps on her gear. “And I’ll bring you that weird pickled snack you keep craving. The one Nat says smells like feet.”

Wanda smirked despite herself, her hand slipping into Y/N’s. “It does smell like feet. But… you’re the one who makes it taste good.”

Y/N chuckled, then glanced down at their joined hands. “I’m serious, Wands. You feel anything—anything off, even just a headache—you call me, okay? I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a firefight.”

Wanda nodded. “And if you so much as get a scratch, you call me. I’ll fly there myself and hex everyone responsible.”

Y/N grinned. “God, I love you.”

Wanda’s voice dropped to a whisper, meant only for her. “We’ll be waiting. Me and our little soul-light.”

Y/N’s heart skipped at the nickname Wanda had started using when they were curled up in bed late at night—soul-light. A magic-born life only possible because their souls had matched, bound, and burned so brightly.

She cupped Wanda’s cheek and kissed her one last time—soft and full of everything she couldn’t say in front of the team.

Then she pulled away, stepped onto the Quinjet, and forced herself not to look back again.

Wanda watched until the ramp closed.

Then, alone on the landing pad, she pressed a hand to her stomach, eyes closed.

“Come back to us safe,” she whispered.

Inside, the tiny hum of a second heartbeat answered her.

Inside the Quinjet, as the engines steadied into their familiar hum and the jet began to rise, the team settled into their usual pre-mission rhythm. Weapons check. Light banter. Tactical rundown. But there was still one missing piece—and it didn’t go unnoticed for long.

“Where’s Wanda?” Sam asked from his seat across the aisle, brow furrowed. “She was cleared for this one, wasn’t she?”

Nat glanced toward Y/N, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Yeah. She was even looking over the briefings yesterday.”

Y/N didn’t flinch, but her hand clenched slightly on the strap across her chest. “She’s not feeling well,” she said calmly, keeping her tone neutral. “Woke up a little off this morning. Nausea. I told her to rest.”

Sam nodded slowly, accepting it at face value, but Nat continued to study Y/N with quiet curiosity. Not suspicion—just instinct. She always knew when something ran deeper.

“Must be something going around,” Steve muttered, checking his comm. “Clint’s youngest had the same bug last week.”

“Wanda’s tough,” Y/N added lightly, trying to steer the moment away. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to take it easy today.”

And no one argued. The conversation shifted back to the mission parameters, but Y/N caught Nat giving her one last look.

A knowing one.

But Nat didn’t push. Not yet.

Y/N exhaled softly and leaned back in her seat, eyes drifting toward the window, where clouds rolled by beneath them.

"Hang in there, Wands," she thought, thumb brushing over the edge of her glove. "We’ll be home soon."

---

I think everybody expected the pregnancy already, right?😁

[shinysobi]

love's labour lost (lee jihoon)

in the end, all he does is run away.

☆ lovers to strangers: lee jihoon x composer! reader ☆ w.c: 2.5k (shortest yet!) ☆ genres: idol au, angst, dissolution of a relationship, jihoon is an asshole here i'm sorry (or am i) based entirely on all my love ☆ written for bella's event !! thank you so much for letting me write this haha i had a lot of fun! ☆tagging: @bella-feed (bc it was her event) @mylovesstuffs (because she's the one who listens to me yap) @gyubakeries (my comrade in this mess) and @hannieoftheyear bc she loves a toxic romance masterlist

All my love has amounted to, is this. 

Jihoon doesn’t know where exactly he went wrong. He did the things that were expected of him, he said the right things, he went to the right places, met and schmoozed with the right people, and yet, at the end of the day, he was there, and they were not. 

Jihoon knows who he is, really. He knows he’s not the most expressive guy; knows he is a bit slow on the uptake, knows he comes off as intimidating and standoffish most of the time. He’s not the easiest guy to get close to, unfortunately. 

Which leaves him here, looking at the phone screen in dismay, rereading the final two texts he’s sent them. Even now, looking back at the relationship, he wants to ask, what happened? Where did he go wrong, where did they go wrong? There is nothing apparent within the texts; they’re meaningless, accounts of a bad day that Jihoon had been having, updates on his meals, everything that was mundane and bleak and yet, they contained so much of his heart. 

In the end, the conversation had petered out easily, like the final burst of a firework, there were no explosive arguments, no throwing things, no tears, nothing at all. No spark in his life, nothing that told him about the steady dissolution of something that went on for perhaps too long. Jihoon doesn’t know how to live life without them, and yet, somehow he does, muscle memory pulling him through the motions of the day with an accuracy that scares him at first. He wakes up, brushes his teeth, goes to the studio to write, and ends up staring at the blank pages of his diary for far longer than necessary. He goes to practise, goes through the motions of being a dancer with a degree of precision that scares him at first, but now, now he’s used to it. 

The rest of Seventeen leave him alone, whispering amongst themselves about how Jihoon has been pulling away from the world even more. Have you talked to him? They ask, and Jihoon has to use force to get Seungcheol out of his studio, an action that Cheol protests by sitting in front of his studio doors for an hour until they have schedules together. He’s supposed to be working on song lyrics for their upcoming album, but all he can think of is the last time he met her. It had been a hasty meeting, held in one of the many boardrooms at HYBE, and he kept avoiding her gaze as she tried to explain the new concepts that management wanted them to try out for the album. She had kept trying to meet his gaze, and he had kept avoiding her, feeling the weight of at least thirty pairs of eyes on his every reaction as she stumbled through her words and her scratch tracks. He had shook his head, trying to control his reactions as much as he could. She was a phenomenal writer, no doubt, but no one took her seriously, not in PLEDIS and HYBE, at least. When he stood up to present his work, with similar themes to hers, they all murmured compliments and nodded with positive affirmations. Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon could see her shrink into her seat. She was never really someone who would speak up for herself, and Jihoon knew that. 

He doesn’t say anything, even when he knows he should. Instead, he sits back, and allows himself to take credit for her work, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach. Her eyes follow him for the whole day, a mix of sadness and something else entirely. Jihoon knows what that is, he just does nothing to change that look in them. 

She looks like a wounded animal, he realises that night at three a.m, sipping on coffee as he works on tracks sent by her on a single USB. the files always have the same names, nothing of note, nothing of importance. Just the name of the song she’s sending it in for, and the date and version of the file. There have been times where she’s sent in files with nothing but the name, Song Draft#1, or something like All My love, draft #2. He likes the way she writes these, likes the way her filenames leave nothing for him to question. On the other hand, Jihoon sends the producers and songwriters drafts named (very creatively) Vernon is being a bitch, or as on one single, memorable occasion, how do I kill Seokmin and bury his body without anyone knowing? They had looked at him like he was crazy, but really, Jihoon doesn’t mind. He likes being known as the crazy one, the problem child of the company. Jihoon remembers the one time he went on lockdown in the studio to make a whole album from scratch in a week, and the rest of the company gave him a wide berth, because really, no one wants to fuck with Lee Jihoon, the insufferable genius of Pledis. 

Which makes entire sense as to why she left him, of course. 

Jihoon is not a stranger to how awfully their relationship began. Even by his standards, the way he asked her out was shitty. They had been sitting in his studio, drinking coffee and working yet another late night, when he had turned to look at her, and said a single word, “chicken?”

“Huh?” she had asked, looking up from her laptop, “right now?”

“No, I mean later,” Jihoon had clarified, looking slightly exasperated at how slowly this was moving along, “chicken. Fried chicken. Do you want to get some with me?”

“Uh, sure.” She had turned back to her work, and Jihoon had nodded, murmuring, it’s a date, then. 

That was how it had begun. Jihoon knew he should not have begun a relationship, or even dated anyone like that, attaching himself to the first person who caught his eye after recovering from a breakup. He knows he should not do it, but he does it anyway. Watches as she gets grilled by higher-ups during meetings, watches as he opens his mouth to say something, but keeps quiet instead. Even his bandmates, people who barely knew her, tried to speak up when they could, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Why did he do that?

At first, it was to maintain distance, to maintain the farce that while they were professional colleagues during work hours, he was not pressing her up against the couch in his studio afterwards. A way to let himself know that the Lee Jihoon of Seventeen was a different person to producer Lee Jihoon, who was a different person to just Lee Jihoon, the man who was using a woman for his benefit. 

It all grew hot and cold, after a while. She stopped expecting things from him, he hadn’t been doing anything for her in the first place. Even with his growing guilt, Jihoon couldn’t stop going back to her day after day, taking whatever she gave, and leaving without giving anything in return. He had it down to a science, almost. 

They were caught once. Well, he was the one who was caught, and it was Seungkwan of all people, who had run into him one late night. Seungkwan was there for practice, and Jihoon was there because he wanted to unwind fuck in peace. They ran into each other in the company elevator, and Seungkwan just stared at him for three seconds, before opening his mouth, “don’t do this, hyung.”

Jihoon stared at him, too. What the hell? “What do you mean,” He’d asked, but from the look on Seungkwan’s face, any explanation was unnecessary. 

“Don’t hurt someone just because you’re hurting too, hyung,” Seungkwan muttered, before getting out of the elevator, “She’s not someone you can hurt and leave when you want to. No one is.”

With that, he was gone, leaving behind Jihoon, still in the elevator, thinking. Hewas free to do whatever he wanted, Seungkwan and his fucking stupid moral policing be damned. And she was an adult. She knew what he wanted, she knew what they were getting into. There was nothing that Jihoon had not told her, so this line of thinking was irrelevant. 

—

Slowly, things start to change. Jihoon suspects Seungkwan’s involvement, but without any proper proof, he can’t even charge the man with anything. She becomes slightly more confident, slightly more outgoing. Earlier, when he called her after work, she came running, no matter how busy she was. Now, he found himself waiting for hours for a reply, and even then, it was all noncommittal, nothing more than yes, maybe, or sorry, no, I’m busy. He got the second text far more often than the first one. 

And then one day, Vernon came into the studio, visibly excited, and started talking about her, “did you know?” He said, “she’s composing the music for this new film.”

“She is?” Jihoon can’t even hide how much it rankles, the news that she’s moved on beyond him, that now she’s begun work as a film composer, “which movie?”

Vernon, who apparently got the news from her, says the name, “it’s going to be shown at Jeonju International Festival, and the lead actor came here today! They finished production on the film, and he came to congratulate her and take a look at her workspace and all.”

Ah, so that was why. Jihoon doesn’t say anything, gives a grunt and goes back to his work, a sign that Vernon interprets as get out. He leaves his studio an hour later to go to the cafeteria, and he sees her eating with another person. The actor; he thinks, and then turns around to leave before she catches his eye. If he saw her, she would come over to greet him, he knew her well enough for that. 

And, he’s never seen her laugh that way 

—

Unfortunately, somewhere between using her for his emotional benefit and discovering she had moved on without him knowing, Jihoon’s feelings had changed. He now looked for her in every meeting; her absence rankled in a place that was not quite familiar to him before. Hell, he even missed the way she ate her food, it was a trivial detail, but now he remembers the way she would carefully arrange everything on her plate and obsess over calories, insisting that she needed to have a certain amount to not keel over and faint. 

Then the conversation peters out entirely. Even when she was actively ignoring his texts outside of work, she would respond to his emails, send over USBs with the song files she was working on, sit in on meetings to workshop lyrics. Those stop too, and now he gets USBs through harried interns who don’t know who they are from, or gets his emails rerouted to another (usually higher) person in charge. Nothing non-professional, nothing he can fault her for. It’s annoying. It’s fucking annoying, how in the end of this twisted fucking mess, Jihoon is only one with mud on his skin. He’s still the terrible toddler, she’s the one whose reputation is pristine. Jihoon didn’t much care for his reputation either way, but if he was getting called an asshole, with rumors of him pursuing and abandoning an employee, he wishes she were affected too. It's selfish to be thinking about another person like this, but Jihoon does not care. He wants everyone to suffer along with him. 

It’s been about a month now. Within this time, he’s been the worst version of himself, locked Cheol out of the studio, ignored everyone’s calls and threatened to kill Seokmin on three separate occasions, but it’s been a month. A month since she stopped responding, a month since he’s had any sort of news from her. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he craves it anyway. 

He runs into Seungkwan on the way to the studio one morning, and the younger man takes one look at him and shakes his head. Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He walks into the studio and closes the door behind him. 

“She’s left.”

Jihoon turns. Seungkwan had walked into the studio, and was looking at him with a mix of pain and contempt, “she’s left PLEDIS. Left HYBE.”

“Wait, what?” It’s his turn to not believe his ears, “who did?”

“The girl you were actively trying to fuck over, hyung, she left,” Seungkwan sighs, “and one more thing, I think it’s a good thing she did.”

“What?”

“She’s now a fully-fledged film composer, hyung,” Seungkwan replies, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “she’s composing scores for two more upcoming films and one television drama. She no longer needs PLEDIS.”

The subtext is clear. 

Jihoon says nothing, just allows Seungkwan to leave. 

—

Three months later, her film premiered at Jeonju International Film Festival. Four of them go; make a show of it, as per Cheol’s orders. He wasn’t aware of what Jihoon did. If he knew, he wouldn’t have let Jihoon go. Anyway, the four of them go, in show of support for an ex-coworker. It’s too much, even for them, he thinks, who the hell organised this? 

He gets his answer before the show, when Vernon shakes her hand enthusiastically, grinning, “I knew you’d be a phenomenal film composer.”

She doesn’t even look at him. 

They take their seats, it’s refreshing to be in a crowd of cinephiles where no one cares about who the hell SEVENTEEN are. Jihoon settles down into his seat, and the starting credits roll. 

The score remains with him even after the film ends. Jihoon doesn’t care for movies, not like Vernon does anyway, so he focuses on the score; which is haunting, stretching like a yawning cat over the expanse of the film, occasionally baring its claws to let people know the genius of its composer. She had done well, and now he thinks the reason why everyone was so critical of her was because they were scared. Cheol claps enthusiastically, Seungkwan claps like he’s the person behind her success (with all his subterfuge, he might as well be) and Vernon even lets out a whoop to show her how much he’s enjoyed her work. Jihoon, out of all the four of them, doesn’t do anything, doesn’t clap, doesn’t smile. He can’t even think properly. So she left the company to do this. To be a film composer. Why did it matter? Why did it matter to him how she lived her life? He used her, she left him, in the end, it was his own actions that led him to be this way. She has always remained the pristine one, unbothered and unaffected of anything that happened in any space. In the end, Jihoon doesn’t even clap, because he’s afraid of tainting her. To be associated with me is the equivalent of throwing mud on yourself, he reasons, as they walk out of the theatre and into a waiting car, this is better. This way, she doesn’t have to remember me anymore. 

Now he knows what he feels, but it’s far too little, far too late. As always. In the end, the guy does not get the girl. In the end, Lee Jihoon remains where he has always been, waiting, a spectator in someone else’s curtain call. All his love has amounted to, is this. 

[icyboineptune]

Mi Vida Loca and why it's about Ivan

(editor's note: this post started being made the day before Karma but since I've seen it, I've added lil things)

Vivimeng, you've done it again. Broken my heart. I'm terrified for tomorrow with Karma, but hey, what better time to go on an ALNST rant.

(Look at my boy. I love him.)

First off, my delusional ass wants you to take note of the Ivan written in the large, leftmost heart.

And then, the shirt of Till. Normally, it's covered in a mixture of Mizi and Ivan's signatures, but not today! Rather, that cat with an eye mimics when Ivan is portrayed as a cat chasing Till in official art.

The background colour is Paratise's blue, inverted. In fact, whilst the preview was the inverted colours of the Unknown Till The End, the actual album doesn't fit into the same colour scheme at all. It's... well, I'll show you.

Remind you of anyone’s colours, hmm? Look how little pink and green there is (Mizi colours) compared the overwhelming red/white/blue/black representing Ivan.

Now onto the lyrics! See, as of right now I'm unsure whether Till meant the song directly for Ivan, or whether he meant it for Mizi and Ivan snuck in there. Regardless.

"I feel so pathetic whenever I stand in front of you/I can't say a word, I turn back around every day"

Do you remember in Black Sorrow that scene where Till and Ivan were so close to escaping Anakt. Till hesitated and turned around to head back for stability in the form of reliable faces and reliable punishments in the garden since he couldn't face the unknown of freedom like Ivan could?

He is expressing his guilt here over not taking the opportunity now that it is much too late. He wants to turn back around every day that he did not, back to Ivan. But just as he couldn't say a word back then to explain himself, he cannot say a word even in this hypothetical idealised world he wishes to have made.

Doomed yaoi, am I right?

"Scenario: CRUSH"

Remind you of a certain pink-haired lady's desire to crush, anyone?

It's similar perhaps to 'error: no better options' which refers to how the deep idolisation and love for Mizi Till felt was a product of his socialisation, deeper than anything he could say in words (hence his performance of Unknown to show that no, it was much more than her being 'pretty' that meant he cared for her)

I think this demonstrates a sense of awareness from Till that he is susceptible to crushes, without the agency to act upon them the way he wishes.

"My stimulating love explodes"

There's not as much to note about this line yet imo other than the idea that his feelings are kept so badly in check due to how earnest he is in essence that they will always build up and explode out of him, thanks to this lack of self-regulation he has.

"Open up your ears, please understand me"

Ivan does not listen to any sign that he could be genuinely happy around anyone, I don't think. He doesn't pay much mind to the people that admire him for his princely persona, he's put off by Mizi's false optimism, and he's jealous of Sua's reciprocated love.

The latter makes me laugh in hindsight because Mizisua has just as many issues in their relationship. If anything, the perspective that it's better not to tell a loved one your feelings till the end (get it?), though it made Ivan deeply unhappy and ended up with the mess that was round 6, turned out to be a lot kinder on Till than Sua's love was on Mizi.

But yeah Till asking him to listen and understand instead of 'shaking it off and stand(ing) tall' like Ivan sings despairingly about in Nowhere feels very purposeful in recontextualising unrequited love as miscommunicated requited love, something I will defend with my life

"Don't you leave me"

Till has never once shown himself to be demanding of Mizi like this, even in Unknown he innocently 'want(s) to know all about (her)' rather than ever make a demand about her presence.

Rather, this is a call to Ivan, an urgent demand for him to return and explain himself. He doesn't want to be a victim of Ivan's 'shallow emotions', goddamn it, he wants him back! The biggest constant in Till's life cannot simply just up and leave to the Great Anakt after throwing the competition and a tantrum by unexpectedly kissing and choking him. He can't leave him, not like this.

It reads almost like a plead to which he'll never know: if you loved me, why did you leave me?

"I'll probably get it across to you for sure"

*klaxon noise*

press X to doubt

There have always been little signs that Till cares for Ivan, even if we have been robbed of a Till POV comic so far that depicts his side of things. But not enough for Ivan to notice.

"Close the distance between us/To be inside your heart"

Up until now, the main one to be mentioning being 'inside' another person as a representation of their desire to forever occupy a space in someone's life is Ivan!

Though 'to live in you like parasite', works as a parallel in that they both wish to be within each other, 'bury my secret deep within my heart' captivated my interest because it feels as though Till is saying to Ivan what he was initially to Mizi: he wants to know about Ivan through his heart, his love, his secrets, everything.

One of Till's love languages seems to be the wholehearted desire to acknowledge and accept a person and all their hidden facets, and part of his frustration thus stems from the fact that he ironically cannot seem to fully break past the masks people hide behind until it's too late.

"Do you love me? I do" AND "Don't you hate me"

Ivan and Till had a love-hate relationship in their lives, and too often I see people disregarding one side of their relationship simply because the hate is more easy for Till to express than his love.

See, while Mizi is more someone to uplift Till, or at the very least make him flustered enough to not express himself properly as seen in the comic where he could say nothing but "you're pretty", Ivan called Till a loser. Like, literally called him a friendless loser that he plays with and Mizi doesn't.

That will hurt coming from someone you spend a lot of time with, especially Till who has - as far as I know - barely any other people who actually like his presence to converse with, save for his bisexual awakenings.

Ivan beats him up and teases him a lot in general tbh. They had to stop because Ivan and his '4 hours of sleep for the GAINS' scheduling meant their physical difference was too big.

"I get scared again like an idiot/Widen the distance between us"

The meteor scene is going to actually kill me. The meteor scene is going to kill meeeee aughhhh

Till once again lamenting for what could have been in his life had the mutual awful communication skills and fear inherent to their beings as pet humans not widened the gap between what is done and what is meant, driving a rift between them.

"Mi Vida Loca"

Damn, boy, your life do indeed be crazy

"They say this is a beautiful song/And they open their arms wide for me"

Till has a 2.5 vocal skill rating (absolutely FOUL, Akugetsu is Ado's brother from another mother and deserved 5/5) but still made Alien Stage because he has prodigy level musical talent. He was stolen from Io because he genuinely liked singing and they took notice of that. I have the feeling aliens don't like the rock-ish genres as much as others, hence All-In being how it is. Mi Vida Loca being loved since it's a pop song thus makes sense, and Unknown skyrocketing him to Top 3 status is because of his performance and stage presence.

His rebelliousness is commoditised despite its existence causing him suffering; he is only conditionally 'loved' by alien society, directly contrasting Ivan's love for his authenticity.

"But more than the countless spotlights I want you/My light is born from you"

OHOHO. Tasty line, this. Light is born from shadow, one cannot exist without the other. Well, Ivan describes himself as Till's shadow: 'What's closer than light is shadow'.

Till's connections with the people around him are the things that keep him going, in essence, which is something I truly admire about him.

"You(r) smile that doesn't love me"

This can apply to Mizi and Ivan to be honest. Mizi smiles and fawns as a way to dissociate from her reality, and Ivan practiced fake smiling in front of puddles to the point of it being one of two expressions he allows himself to show (the other being apathy).

Till's unreliable narrator shows again though, because both of the two definitely cared for him. It's the classic self deprecating thought process of: I really hope they care for me -> of course they don't, just look at me -> but what if I did something new, maybe I would have a shot then -> they're pretending to but they actually hate me, etc etc it goes on forever

"I'll also smile at me that doesn't love myself"

My son has self-expression and self esteem issues. No wonder, what with literally everything that has happened to him in his life. I'd have issues too, gawd dayum.

Why I wrote this is not out of malice for my girl Mizi (girl you're not a witch ahufwdfggsobbinf).

It's because Ivan makes me a sad little man since every one of his songs, original or covered, is the most fucking depressing piece of music to analyse the lyrics of from his perspective. Whether the fact Till loved him back is a win or not is debatable, because that means he hated himself so much he doomed his own relationship (TvT)

Anyways. I DEFINITELY didn't cover everything, but here. My two cents! :D

Yours sincerely,

a guy who submitted an essay analysis of Ivantill to be graded and got a Distinction.

[gunwoo-bh]

you like because, you love despite part six [date night] - myg

date night

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

summary »» Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that. Or were they?

cw »» fluff, pet names, some tooth rotting stuff for sure, yoongi being scared of feelings, reader being the same, cussing, two idiots in love and oblivious about it, heeeaavy flirting, more cuddles, yoongi is horny as hell

wc »» 7.6k

author’s note »» HI EVERYONE! I appreciate all the love you keep giving my story, this fic has been a labour of love honestly and I love it so much. I will be taking the smallest break between this chapter and the next, not only to write it because of how important this next part is but because, if I'm being honest, I am feeling burnt out in my personal life. I hope everyone understands. But for now, enjoy the chapter! :D

“What do you mean you chickened out?”

“Exactly what that means, man!”

“What happened?” 

“If I say it you’ll think I chickened out over some stupid reason…”

“I can’t tell you that until you tell me though, bro…”

Yoongi can’t help but glare at his friend, holding no animosity behind it but conveying his annoyance at the situation, “I can’t even be mad at it either…it’s dumb. I’m dumb.” He scoffs, rubbing his face harshly. 

“Stop! Tell me what happened. Come on.” 

Yoongi glances at Namjoon, chewing the corner of his lower lip, “We were sitting in her living room and she went to clean up, insisted I stay on the couch so I did, because I am not gonna fight her…”

“Smart man, she is always right. Get used to that.” He teases. 

Yoongi snorts, “Okay, well, I am sitting there finally getting the courage to just get her attention so we can talk and I can tell her.” He clears his throat. “And she starts screaming ‘oh my god’ over and over. For a second I thought something bad happened but no, and here comes the thing that stopped me from just telling her,” he takes a deep breath and releases it, “Seokjin sent the engagement announcement text and photo to the group chat.”

“Oh.” Namjoon covers his mouth, staying quiet. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh shit.”

“Yup.”

“What did you do?”

He sighs, “I considered riding the coattails of the happy moment, but I felt like a dick the moment the thought even crossed my mind…”

“So, you said nothing?”

He shakes his head, “We just talked about the engagement for a bit…she said one day that’ll be us,” Namjoon’s eyes widen, “but she didn’t mean us ‘us’ just that we’ll be married some day to other…people.”

“And that was it?”

Yoongi nods. 

Namjoon sits arms crossed, reaching for his beer and sips it, “Wow.”

“Yup.” 

Sitting in a tent restaurant in the middle of November, Yoongi had spent the last week bottling all of his feelings down and not updating his friend since sending him that clear, yet cryptic, text. Both men are around a table of ramen and booze, the first time in a while since they’ve managed to hang out. 

“Actually…” Yoongi starts, Namjoon’s eyes snapping to him, “something else has been happening…”

His friend senses the reluctance in his words, “What’s that?”

Yoongi points at him, “What I’m about to tell you stays between us, yeah? And I don’t wanna hear any jokes about it because I am aware of how it’s gonna sound when I say it…”

“Gotcha. Go on, say it.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath, “For the last few weeks…her and I have been sleeping together,” Namjoon’s eyes widen, “and not like that, but just…sleeping over at each other’s place like, in the same bed…”

His friend is quiet for a moment, “Like, you guys are, like, just sleeping there?”

“No, we cuddle and I hold her…” He lets the sentence hang.

“That must confuse the fuck outta you…”

Yoongi scoffs, “Yeah, no shit…”

Both men sigh, reaching for their beers and quietly taking a sip. It’s late now, Yoongi far more than aware that he should head home to get some rest.

“And she’s going on a date?”

Yoongi sighs, eyes closed as he breathes in deeply. 

Ah, yes. This. 

He found out from Jimin three days ago that a colleague of yours had set you up on a date. He didn’t know the details of how it came to be, but Jimin, in his infinite wisdom, had shared it to Yoongi in the hopes he had some information. 

Yoongi didn’t even know that was something you were entertaining. It had come as a complete shock to him and he hated how caught off guard he was when facing Jimin. He didn’t want to text and question you from finding out about it from someone else. He wanted you to come to him, but since the day he found out, almost like the universe shifted, he hadn’t seen you at all, or heard from you much. 

He was slowly going insane from not knowing what was going on in your head. 

“Yeah.”

“Shit, dude.” Namjoon rubs his mouth. “You okay?” 

Yoongi finally lets go. 

“It fucking sucks, but I have no one but myself to blame for that. I keep looking for the right moment to tell her and I keep waiting too long. What do I do then? Shove my head into the ground and ignore this feeling,” he taps his chest, “until the next time I get the guts to tell you and when it inevitably fails again…” he huffs a dry laugh. 

“Do you even know if she’s going on the date? She could decide not to go…” God bless his friend for trying to cheer him up. 

Yoongi sighs loudly, “I don’t know. I know fuck all. We’ve barely texted these last few days and I haven’t seen her in about three…”

His friend frowns, “That’s…unusual for you guys…”

“I just…I’m starting to think I just need to move on, y’know? To let go of my feelings and maybe just let myself stop holding on…” Yoongi’s heart hurts as he even utters those words. Not loving you feels like a mockery to the universe. 

Not that he would ever admit to this out loud but Yoongi does wholeheartedly believe he was born to love you. And he is – was? – okay with that. He is okay with that. Yoongi can’t just stop the way he feels about you, he just knows as such. 

“We both know, even if I haven’t known you for as long, that you have loved her for too long to just let go…” 

“I know, but it feels like the only logical next step…”

“Or,” Namjoon carefully tries his approach, “you tell her anyway. Let her make a decision.” 

Yoongi has thought of that more than a few times because maybe, just maybe, it was possible you could feel the same. It would be the easiest way to go about it and then, if it all falls apart, the only thing to do is live with the awkwardness for a bit and move on. Be friends. What you’ve always been. 

Yoongi rubs his face, “I want to…”

“She’ll always love you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know…”

Namjoon sighs, “Maybe the date won’t work out…”

Yoongi laughs, “I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but every date she’s ever been on has ended in a relationship. No matter how long it lasted…” he sighs, “god, I sound so fucking bitter…”

“You’re in love with your best friend…it’s gotta fucking hurt…”

Yoongi stares at the condensation on his beer can, licking his lips, “I still have her in my life at least…”

“Just text her, bro. She’s probably overthinking the whole thing too.” Namjoon kicks his foot under the table. “I mean, think about it. It must confuse her too how you’re both into cuddling and sharing the bed now, and now she has a date? I think she’s probably in her head as much as you are…”

“She asked me to stay…”

“But you went for it. You didn’t have to.”

Yoongi sighs, “I’ll see what happens…with her date.” 

Namjoon nods, “Good idea. Go see her. Or text her. It’s weird to think you’re not talking right now…”

Yoongi digs for his wallet and takes out a few bills, placing it down on the table as he stands, “Let’s share a cab and go home.”

Namjoon follows his friend as they hail a cab, dropping Namjoon off first and leaving Yoongi a few minutes more before finally getting home. He stumbles up the steps, already hating the slight hangover he is going to battle first thing in the morning before work. The entire time he stumbles through his apartment he replays the conversation he just had with his friend and as he pushes into his bedroom, his eyes settle on the messy bed. 

He misses you something awful.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother changing into different clothes before throwing himself on his bed, patting the side of the bed you had been sleeping on and hating the emptiness.

“Getting too fucking old for this shit…”

Yoongi hates the feeling in his chest. It’s like the weight of the world is pressing against it, with his ribcage caught between it and unimaginable pain. That’s what loving you felt like in that moment. The sensation is probably worsened by the alcohol coursing through his body. Right now, it may feel like anger directed at you, but Yoongi knows it’s all weighing down on his shoulders. Your not knowing how he feels isn’t really your fault, but his.

He pushes himself off the bed, reluctantly undressing to get ready for bed. He drags his feet back from washing up and slipping on his shirt when he pauses in his shuffling. He swears he just heard knocking, but in his state, it could very well be in his head. He smooths out his shirt, rubbing his chest as he waits and is shocked when he hears knocking again, this time louder. He’s not imagining things.

He peeks his head out of the bedroom, waiting to hear it again, only for it to be the doorbell, causing Yoongi to rush to the door. He doesn’t even think twice before swinging it open, and the wind gets knocked out of him when he sees you standing there. He stands tall, licking his lips nervously as your eyes meet. 

“Hey…”

You smile timidly, “Hi…”

“Excuse me?”

“Remember you asked me to set you up with a nice guy? I got you a date with a friend of mine.” Jiwoo, your colleague, proudly announces to you. You obviously can't tell her you're no longer interested in that idea. I mean, yes, you could. 

“Oh…so, have you told him about me yet or…?” 

She's so excited, “Yes! And he's looking forward to it. He usually doesn't let us set him up on dates. I showed him a photo of you and he was sold!” 

Biting your lip, you chuckle dryly, “I see,” you suck in a breath, “what's his name?”

“Kim Woohyun. He owns a marketing company. He's thirty-four. He's my brother-in-law's younger brother.” She opens her phone to find a photo, which she shows you as you take it from her. 

He's handsome, stereotypically so. You can't deny that but you can't help but be disappointed at your lack of interest in the guy. Before your growing feelings for Yoongi this guy would have hit every single requirement on your checklist for a man. Handsome? Check. Successful? Check. Age appropriate? Check. Good references? Check. But now? None of that mattered. 

“I guess, it wouldn't hurt to go on a date?” You hope she hears how unsure you sound. 

“Oh my god! Awesome! I will give you his number and I’ll give him yours so you guys can figure a time and date! You are going to love him!” She’s so excited she doesn’t catch your lack of it. 

You give her your phone and it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes before you receive a text from Woohyun confirming he was given the right number. As you sit in your office texting him, it occurs to you that for the first time in the few times you’ve been set up? You don’t actually care to go on the date. 

No, you’d rather be somewhere else. 

Present Day

“Do you also enjoy long walks on the beach?”

You snap yourself out of the reverie you’re stuck in, “Shoot, sorry?”

Woohyun laughs gently, sipping his glass of wine as he leans back in his seat, “Am I boring you?”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I am so tired. I probably should have started with that.”

“Long shift?” 

You nod, hoping the reasoning is enough to get him off your trail, “Yeah. I had a lot of appointments to squeeze in today and I basically got ready at work to come here…” you tuck a strand of hair in mild embarrassment. 

“I think sometimes my life is crazy, but I can’t imagine what being a doctor is like…” he shakes his head, smiling at you. 

Woohyun is charming. He’s well mannered, kind, a good listener and patient. You texted him on your way to the restaurant warning him you would be late a tad and you had felt truly embarrassed at that even though you never intended on going on a second date. Your heart truly wasn’t in it. 

“It can be but I’m lucky compared to some other doctors. I still work insane hours sometimes though. As proven by today…” you take a sip of your wine too, hiding your nerves. “And don’t you also work some insane hours? You own a marketing company.”

“Did you look me up?” He grins, shamelessly flirting with you. 

You mouth the air, feeling awkward, “Uh, well, yeah…who doesn’t in this day and age?” 

Woohyun smiles at you, not taking his eyes off of you as he brings his glass to his lips. You almost feel like you’re being scrutinized when he watches you that way and you don’t enjoy how judged you feel as he clears his throat, leaning forward to look you in the eyes. 

“Who is he?”

Your jaw goes slack, mouthing the air for a few seconds, “What?”

“The guy.” You continue to play dumb, hoping the subject gets dropped. “The guy you’re not over.” 

“Oh! Oh no! I don’t have–There’s no–I mean…” you trail off.

Woohyun chuckles, “Look, I may be single and looking to mingle, but in the last couple of years of going on dates I’ve become really good at figuring out if a date is going anywhere and this,” he gestures between you, “is not going anywhere because your heart isn’t in it.”

You almost want to fight. To prove him wrong but he gently grabs your hand as he speaks again, “I’m not offended, just so you know. But I can see it all over your face that you have someone else on your mind…” he sucks in a breath, “so, who’s the ex?” 

You freeze because it is far more complicated than it seems, “Not an ex.” 

“Oh?” He looks surprised. “Unrequited love? Friend’s ex?” You make a face. “No. Then, a friend’s brother? No? Okay. Uh, co-worker?” You sigh loudly. “Childhood best friend?” You choke on your wine and sigh loudly as Woohyun breaks out into a smile. “Ding ding! Childhood best friend it is then…”

“Why am I even entertaining this? Is this a joke to you?” You sigh. 

He shakes his head, “No. I can imagine how much your situation sucks.”

“You really shouldn’t be this eager to find out. Your date turned into a dud…” He clicks his tongue at your words. “Is this how you entertain yourself after a failed date? You try to get them to open up about their feelings to revel in the bullet you dodged?” 

He continues smiling but this time it’s gentler as he puts his hand against his chest, “I’m sorry. I may have become jaded by failed potential dates, but really? If you’re not into me? Then odds are, as gorgeous as you and let me say that you are a fucking ten outta ten, I am not into you either…” you mouth the air, “but also, you’re obviously having a shit time with whatever is happening with your childhood best friend?”

And you don’t know what it is about Woohyun that makes you open up and answer, “Yeah…”

“Childhood best friend, gotcha. I don’t know what’s going on there but I could tell you would rather be with him or her…?” he trails off.

“Him.” 

“With him, then.” He leans back when your meal arrives, and you suddenly feel awkward letting the meal continue, but Woohyun seems almost unbothered by the whole situation. “So, we can either really awkwardly end dinner and go our separate ways? Or,” he takes a bite of his steak, “we can try to be friendly, and you can tell me what’s up. Because right now? I don’t know much, but if you're torn over your best friend like this? He’s either an idiot or he has no idea that you have feelings for him…”

You huff a breath, in disbelief at his ability to read a complete stranger, as you smack your lips. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You wonder over and over, thinking through all the ways this could go wrong if you’re not careful. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, and under any other circumstance, this date might have been a success if it wasn’t for your heart essentially belonging to your best friend now. 

“He doesn’t know…” you look at your plate, hesitantly picking up your utensils to begin digging in. 

“Ah…so, how long has this been going on?” 

“It’s recent…” Woohyun watches you and urges you to tell your story. And just like that you unload everything that’s happened these last few weeks, not going in depth but covering all your bases so a stranger can share his opinion over the wreck that is your current love life. 

You don’t realize how nice it is to just let everything come out with someone who really won’t have any bias or personal feelings about your situation. Woohyun listens without interrupting, only asking questions for clarification but he doesn’t share his opinion yet. The meal on your plate progressively gets smaller the more you talk through your history with this complete stranger who, after all this, may not be a stranger anymore. 

“So, you basically ghosted your best friend when we got set up on that date because…?”

You're glad you switched over to water when your glass of wine was empty, “Because it means having to face the reality that I am falling in love with my best friend and that is terrifying…” you thank the waiter who picks up your plates, “and I can’t– I won’t lose him…” 

“Mhm.”

“Mhm, what? What does ‘mhm’ mean?” 

He chuckles, “I’m sure you might have been asked this before but uh,” he clears his throat, “have you ever considered he might feel the same about you?” 

You laugh, unable to stop yourself as you blush when people around you look over to your table, “No. Never, because he’s…there’s no…” you let the sentence, and confidence, die right then and there. 

“Ah, just give it one second…it’ll hit you soon enough…” Woohyun is a little shit who thinks he knows everything and maybe with good reason, because some of the truths he’s dropped on you have hit harder than ever. You sigh softly and look at him, “There it is. It’s hitting you right now, right? That maybe all this denial you’ve buried yourself under this entire time might actually hold some truth…”

“But why wouldn’t he say something?” 

He chuckles, “For the same reason you don’t want to confront what you’re feeling…at least, I think.” You wait for some enlightenment coming from Woohyun. “Because he doesn’t want to lose you. Losing you is probably the last thing he wants.” 

“I just…never thought about the fact that somehow he could maybe feel that way towards me…” you confess. 

“It never crossed your mind that for the same reason you’re not telling him anything, he’s doing the same…?” He leans his chin in his hand, staring at you. “Look, I don’t know you very well and I don’t know him, but from what you’ve told me you two are as thick as thieves, right?” You nod. “I am not gonna hold back, okay? But it sounds to me like you two are a bit slow…”

You gasp at the insult, prompting him to laugh, “Ouch! Rude much?!” 

He’s laughing while watching you, “Look, I am telling you this as a guy who tried going on a date with you who has now heard your entire dilemma? Sounds to me like you two have feelings for each other and you have no idea what to do with that information. That’s all I’m sayin’...” he shrugs.

You sit back, “Fuck you.” He laughs harder as you shush him, other guests in the restaurant staring at you two. “Shhh!! Sh!!” 

Sitting there in comfortable silence with this man you’ve just met – who under any other circumstance would have been a fantastic date – makes you reflect on where your heart is at the moment. There is no more confusion about where you are emotionally. You’re falling in love with your best friend and trying to figure out what it means for you two. 

“I can’t believe I figured it out while on a date with another guy…” you mumble.

“You’re welcome. My services are free today…” He snarks, making you chuckle. “Where is he right now?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know…I’m thinking right now he’s either home or…I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a few days…” you admit. 

Woohyun takes his wallet out while looking at you, grinning softly, “Tonight’s on me. I had fun even if the date didn’t turn out the way I had hoped…” You are about to protest but he stops you. “Go find him. Even if nothing happens, you want to be with him tonight and it shows. You haven’t stopped blushing since mentioning him…”

Staring at him in shock you can’t help but chuckle, “Thank you, that’s very kind of you…considering…” You rub the back of your neck. 

“Do me a favour and you don’t owe it to me obviously but,” he sits straight, “don’t wait too long to do anything, because it sounds to me like you two are just so afraid of losing what you have that you are missing what could be instead if you just let things happen…” he stands up, “and stop missing out on that, mhm?”

He extends his hand and you take it, “Thank you. I don’t know if it would be weird to…stay in touch but…”

“Oh please, keep in touch. I wanna know what happens because I’m a sucker for romance and plus, I want an invite to the wedding.” He winks as he guides you out of the restaurant after paying. The nearly freezing December air chills you to the bone as you turn to Woohyun, “I’ll get you a cab. Please shoot me a text to say you made it safe…”

“I will.” You smile timidly, looking up at him as he hails you a cab with ease and opening up the door for you. “Thank you.” 

“Sure thing.” He gets you in and before shutting the door he playfully eggs on. “If you do have a friend looking to date a guy that’s decent please send her my way?” 

You burst out laughing as he shuts the door and you lower your window, “I will. I feel like that’s the least I can do now…”

He looks at you, gentlest smile on his lips before he shuts the door for you and waves you off, the cab driving off. You look back for a moment and he’s still looking at you as you smile gently to yourself. 

This was good. Meeting Woohyun was a good thing even if the date didn’t work out the way he had hoped. Given that things weren’t going to be awkward, you might have made a new friend for life. You open your phone and shoot him a quick text thanking him for being a great listener.

Woohyun [10:39 PM]: Any time! Text me when you make it safe, mhm?

The ride to Yoongi’s feels longer than it actually is. You know this because, from anywhere in the city, you’re aware of how long it takes to reach his place. But this journey gives you the time you need to mentally prepare your explanation for Yoongi about your disappearing act. You sincerely hope he understands and forgives you since neither of you is known for pulling a stunt like that. It just isn’t like you at all.

The cab comes to a full stop, startling you enough to make the driver laugh as you blush. You pay your fare and step out, staring up at the familiar building. You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you as you climb the stairs. You shiver when you reach the door, standing in front of it. You could let yourself in, but you hesitate. So, you knock and wait.

Nothing.

There are lights on, so you know he’s home. You shift your weight from side to side, feeling the chill settle in your bones as you knock once more and wait. Still nothing. The longer you wait, the more uneasy you feel, leading you to ring the doorbell, hoping he maybe couldn’t hear you. Just as you start considering leaving and going home, you hear his footsteps approaching the door.

The door swings open, and there he is, looking like he’s ready for bed and surprised to see you standing there at his door.

“Hey…”

“Hi…”

Yoongi hates that his first thought when he sees you is how beautiful you look. He realizes within seconds that you must have just come back from your date, and jealousy creeps up his spine at the idea of another guy enjoying your beauty this way. He doesn’t usually consider himself a jealous person, but when it comes to you lately? He hasn’t been able to stop his feelings from overwhelming him. 

But there you are in front of him, wearing a stunning outfit he hasn't seen on you before, and the way your hair cascades in gentle curls down your shoulders reminds him of how much he loves you. He’s also immediately willing to forgive and forget your lack of communication. However, judging by the look on your face, it seems to weigh heavily on you because you look concerned. 

He clears his throat and moves aside, “Come in, it’s cold..." 

You walk past him, and Yoongi tries to shake off the beginnings of his hangover as he holds your arm while you remove your heels. You look up at him as you suddenly reach your normal height, neck craning to meet his eyes, and Yoongi sighs softly as he asks if you’re okay. 

“Yeah, thank you…” 

He releases you, and you carefully step into his spot, with Yoongi following closely behind. He rubs the back of his neck, watching how timidly you shuffle around, arms crossed over your chest as you turn to face him. His eyes roam the length of your body, taking in the way the skirt you’re wearing clings to your hips and stops midway down your thighs. Damn, what a guy he is, he thinks as he wonders what it would feel like to slip his hand between your legs, and damn, he’s never let his thoughts go that far. He knows he’s in trouble now, with his feelings growing wildly out of control for you. And something else. Calm the fuck down, Yoongi.

“You okay?” 

You hum, “Mhm. Just…just wanted to see you…” 

He licks his lips, huffing a quick breath, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” He knew this was coming. “I felt weird spending the nights with you when I said yes to going on a date.” 

His chest tightens, “Why?” 

“I felt like I was doing something wrong…” You confess and Yoongi understands right away what you mean by that. 

“You weren’t.” 

You hum, “I know that.”

“You wanna stay over?”

He’s never seen so much hope shining in your eyes when you look up at him, “Could I?”

“Yeah, of course you can, silly.” 

The dam must break for you because you rush into his arms, crashing into his body as he wraps his arms around your waist. He lowers himself when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, Yoongi burying his face in the crook of your neck as your feet dangle when he stands at full height. 

“I missed you…” you mumble in his ear. 

He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I missed you too…” 

He feels your legs moving, for a moment wondering if he grabbed at one if you would wrap them around him. Yoongi wants to know what having you pressed against him that way would feel like, carrying you to bed like he’s so badly wanted to do every time you two stayed over. But instead he puts you back down, pulling back as you keep your hands on his shoulders. Yoongi shamelessly looks at you, admiring your date outfit as he plucks at the fabric of your top. 

“You look beautiful…” he meets your eyes as you gasp at his comment, blushing furiously. 

“Yeah?” 

“Why do you sound surprised?” 

Giggling, you squeeze his shoulders, “You’ve never…said that before that’s all…”

“I have. I must have.” But you’re shaking your head, making him realize he hadn’t. “I’m sorry, I should have more often…”

You shrug, “It’s okay…” 

He clears his throat, “How was the date?”

“Good. It was good.”

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he tries not to overthink it, “Yeah?”

“I’m not seeing him again, not that way any way, but yeah it was good.” You chuckle, pulling away slightly but Yoongi doesn’t let you go, pulling you against his chest. 

“Why wouldn’t you see him again if it was a good date?” He swallows thickly. 

“We hit it off more as friends, but he did say I was a ten outta ten so,” you chuckle, timidly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I guess my ego is feeling pretty good right now, but we agreed to try being friends. He wants me to set him up on a date.” 

You seem happy with the outcome, “And you’re not upset it didn’t work out?” 

You shrug, “I honestly didn’t want to go on the date…”

He looks down at your outfit, “You look like you wanted to go on the date…”

You grin softly, laughing, “Well, what if it worked out, right? Wouldn’t hurt, so I made an effort.” 

He wants to thank your date with a lifetime amount of meals at his restaurant for turning the date friendly. He’s never been so grateful. 

“Speaking of,” you officially pull away, Yoongi missing your warmth, “could I borrow some clothes?”

Yoongi nods, taking your hand in his and tugging you to his bedroom where he finds a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, handing them to you. He sits on the bed when you disappear in his ensuite and he’s not even spread out on his bed for longer than twenty seconds when you come back out, wearing his t-shirt but still sporting your skirt. You're tugging on the edge of it when you walk to him as he sits up.

“This stupid thing is stuck again and no amount of tugging on it is doing anything. Help?” 

You stand between his legs and he swears the universe is constantly testing his resolve, testing how long it will take him before he snaps and finally does something about his feelings for you. He grabs your hips, angling you sideways as he tugs on the flimsy zipper, concentrating on the task at hand and not on the way your hand holds the back of his neck for purchase. He gives a firm tug on your hips, earning a gasp out of you as he looks up.

You’re staring at his face, lips parted and pupils wide as he smiles gently, “Got it.” You snap your eyes to his fingers and he’s tugging the zipper down, your breath visibly catching as he grins. Oh. For the first time in all the years he’s known you, Yoongi gets a hint there may just be some requited attraction between you two. He pats your hip and lets go of you, “Go get changed…”

You're holding onto your skirt as you disappear again and Yoongi puts a hand to his chest, chuckling at how hard his heart is beating in his chest. His nerves are getting the best of him, urging his brain not to overthink what’s happened between the two of you recently. 

When you come out of his ensuite again you’re dressed head to toe in his clothes, the sight making him feel warm as he looks at you. You’re both smiling gently, staring at each other. 

“You ready for bed?” 

“Mhm.” You nod.

When you both crawl into bed, you easily snuggle in his side as you hook your leg over him and he pulls you as humanly close as possible. Yoongi worries you’ll feel his heart beating out of his chest as your fingers trace patterns on his chest when you look up at him, chin on his chest when he looks down at you.

“Hey…” your voice is small, playful and even flirty. 

“Yeah, doll?” 

“Why do you call me that?” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“No! I do, I do…” you are quick to assure him, making him chuckle. “I was just wondering…”

“I like it, that’s all…” 

“We’re okay, right?” 

He licks his lips, “Yeah, always.” 

You both fall quiet, the feeling of your gentle breathing nearly lulling him to sleep as you speak up again, “I haven’t slept well these last couple of nights…”

“Yeah?” He’s surprised by your confession. 

“Mhm.” He licks his lips. “Me neither, if I’m honest.” He looks down to you as he asks, “I missed having you here…”

“Is this weird? Us…sleeping together like this…”

The question lands heavily and the air shifts in the room, “I don’t think so…I think it’s very us actually.” 

You laugh, “We’ve never done this before though…” 

“Well, I guess, even after years of friendship things can change and evolve…” 

You giggle, hiding in his chest but Yoongi cups your cheek, forces you to look up at him and you glance at his lips before meeting his eyes, “Yeah, I guess so…”

“You did look beautiful tonight…by the way…” he clears his throat, his thumb gently caressing the high point of your cheek. He feels your hand crawl its way up his chest and you do the same, cupping his cheek and gently holding him.

“Thank you…” your breath catches again, “you know what I miss? And I am aware how random this is…” you giggle.

He frowns, shaking his head, “No?”

“Your black hair.” He’s caught off guard by that one. “What?”

“I thought you liked the blonde?” He chuckles.

“Oh, I like it but I think black suits you better, makes you look more handsome.” Your hand moves from his cheek and you drag your fingers across his scalp as he moans softly at the feeling. “Okay…” you chuckle.

“Shit, sorry…that…that just felt nice…” he’s blushing, feeling warmth rushing to his face at his reaction. You do it over and over again, massaging his scalp and earning little breathy moans out of him. Yoongi is willing himself to stop but each time your nails go over the spot, he grows putty in your arms. He’s breathing softly as his eyes snap open, pulling your face up to his as he stares down at you, “Doll, I need you to stop that…” he pleads with you. 

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s breathing until he feels his chest heaving, your hand rubbing it in order to ease the intensity of his breathing. 

“Okay…” 

You’re in love with him. You’re certain of that now. 

Getting such a reaction out of him is all the evidence you needed to know he felt something for you that wasn’t just about the physical. There’s reassurance in this newfound knowledge and you feel relieved for the first time in weeks. Now, it’s all about taking the steps to explore the changes in your friendship. How do you suddenly go from being best of friends to being best of friends who are going to explore dating? Slow down, you tell yourself. You need to tell him how you feel first.

Your face is so close to his, glancing to his mouth and pulling back slightly, “You okay?”

He’s nodding, looking down at you, “Yeah, I’m sorry I just…”

You sweetly shush him, running your fingers through his hair, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” 

He slips his arm under you and around your shoulders, pulling you in closer as you end up a mess of tangled limbs hugging each other. You feel his lips against your forehead, pressing a few kisses to it as you settle like this together. A comfortable silence falls, making you believe he had fallen asleep but you feel his hands squeezing your body gently. 

“Yoongi,” he hums, “how did you know I was on a date?”

You feel him go rigid for the quickest moment before you hear him mumble, “Jimin.”

You laugh, feeling him pull back to look at you, “What a gossip, I love him…”

Yoongi looks concerned, “Was he not supposed to…?”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t under any obligation to hide it. I’m just, I’m not surprised he told you…” you’re just looking at each other, your fingers gently combing through his blonde hair. 

“What was he like?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi sighs, “Your date.”

You snicker, “He was nice. A bit older than me. Woohyun. He owns a marketing company. It was a fun dinner and I think, if anything, I made a friend, which I’m sure is not what Jiwoo hoped for.”

“Jiwoo. Nurse?” 

You shake your head, “Nah, she works in OB. Woohyun is her brother-in-law’s brother I think…”

“She wanted to be a matchmaker, huh?” He chews the inside of his cheek.

“She tried, but she maybe gave me another friend…” 

“And he was okay with that?”

Your chest feels heavy, not quite ready to tell him how Woohyun had called her out on having someone else on her mind during their date, “Yeah, there was no ‘spark’ other than it felt like talking with a friend. Honestly, it felt like one of my regular gossip sessions with Jimin.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I’m glad you at least made a friend.” he leans into your touch as you continue combing through his hair, “You weren’t too disappointed?”

“No. Not at all.” You look at him. “I went on the date to make Jiwoo happy but I was going to tell him my heart just wasn’t in it, y’know? But he caught on.”

Yoongi breathes out deeply, “Good guy.”

He almost sounds jealous, the thought making you chuckle, “He really is. He’s going to make some other girl really happy…”

“You sure you won’t have any regrets?” He looks like he regrets asking that the moment it leaves his mouth. 

Your hand stops its movement in his hair, now resting at the nape of his neck, “None. Whatsoever.” 

“Good.”

Both Yoongi and you relax, falling silent as you let sleep take over with the feeling of his hand rubbing up and down the length of your back as you snuggle closer. You don’t realize how quickly you fall asleep, just that you do.

You open your eyes with a yawn, covering your face with your arms before stretching in bed. When your hand doesn’t hit Yoongi’s body you immediately assume he’s gone to work but when you grab your phone, which he must have plugged in for you. Sitting up in bed you smile when you notice your outfit from last night neatly folded on his dresser. 

Things feel different.

You grab your phone, noting that the time is just past eight that morning. You respond to a few texts when you hear the door open, and Yoongi pokes his head in before swinging it wide as he leans in the doorway with a small smile. He has an iced Americano from the coffee shop at the end of his street and walks over to the bed, sitting in his empty spot. You scoot closer as he hands you the drink, and when your eyes meet, he glances at your lips, and you catch him in the act. You break into a smile, thanking him as you sip the divine drink he got for you. 

“Morning.” He chuckles. 

“Morning. Thank you.” You mumble with the straw between your teeth. 

He stands up again making you protest as he chuckles, “I brought breakfast, I’m just grabbing it…”

You laugh, watching him disappear before returning with a container you recognize, “You ‘brought’ breakfast. You raided your own restaurant…”

He shrugs, “Perks of being the owner?”

You scoff as he opens the container to reveal seaweed soup, “Oh yes. Thank you.” 

“Easy,” he pulls it away, “we’re sharing.” He hands you a spoon as he holds one in his other hand. 

He runs to the kitchen to grab a tray for the soup and you both have breakfast in bed, talking very little between each bite of the delicious meal he brought over. You look up at him, snorting as he looks at you.

“What?”

You shake your head, “Why haven’t you given me cooking lessons? I basically rely on you…”

He’s mid-bite, eyes squinting at you like you’ve said the most ridiculous thing on the planet, “You have me. You don’t need to think about that.”

It’s your turn to squint, staring at him, “Uh, basic life skills? Maybe I want to cook? What am I gonna do when I have a husband some day and I can’t cook him anything?”

He swirls the spoon in the soup, “Don’t worry about it. Maybe he’ll like cooking?” 

His nonchalant attitude about it makes you grin, “You little shit.” 

He chuckles as he steals your drink to steal a sip of it, handing it back to you and you can’t help but shake your head, crossing your legs as he shrugs, “What?”

“You just don’t wanna teach me.”

“That’s not it!” he insists. “You don’t need…to concern yourself with that.”

Did he just insinuate he would always be there for you to be the cook in your life? He sure did and he said it with certainty, like it was the most obvious thing. You hum, content with life as of this very moment as you sit in your best friend’s bed, eating delicious food and in his company. 

And this is what you imagine happiness to be as you look at reels on your phones, showing the funny ones that pop up on your feeds and laughing at this absurdness of it all. This is being happy. You spend the few hours before he has to go open together in bed, snacking and drinking coffee as you laugh over silly reels, talking about your date or talking about your plans for the holidays.

“So, holidays. Are we driving up together or separately?”

You snort, “Every time I try to offer going separately, we always end up going together because you wanna save on gas. So, I’m just gonna say together…”

He chuckles, “Alrighty, then.”

“Have you heard from your grandma?” You tentatively ask.

He nods, “Yeah, her doctor has her on pain management meds right now. He’s still trying to convince her to get treatment but even I’ve realized she’s not going to. She’s tired but she’s still the same, pretty much…”

“Good. I mean, that’s as good as it can be.” You smile, hoping it was comforting enough to him. “I’m glad we get to see her for a week though. It’ll be nice to see everybody.”

“Mhm. My mom is beyond happy we’re both coming down.” You smile at that, looking forward to the chaotic holiday week you were bound to have there. 

“I bet she is.” You giggle as you move closer to him. “I can’t wait to sleep in for days in a row and not have to wake up butt ass early…”

He laughs, “Don’t say that. You always end up disappointed because you’re always awake bright and early even when you’re on vacation…” 

Pouting, you grab his hand, “Let me live in the fantasy now and be disappointed later, okay?”

He laces his fingers with yours, “Alright.” He squeezes your fingers before sighing, “I should get ready to go down…” your pout makes him sigh, “are you okay staying here? Or are you working?”

“Not until tomorrow…” he unwillingly untangles his hand from yours. “I can stay if you want me to?”

“Please, I’d like that.” He stands up, looking at you. “I’m letting Jungkook close up to get him used to it, I can’t physically do these twelve hour days anymore…” 

“So, you’ll be back around…?”

He frowns, “Somewhere around seven or eight. Maybe earlier if it’s quiet…” 

You push yourself to your knees, dragging yourself to the edge of the bed as he watches you like a hawk. You surprise him when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he latches his around your waist, pulling you closer as he buries his head in your neck. You’re both humming contentedly as you hug, feeling him squeezing you periodically before he pulls back first. 

“I’ll see you later?”

Smiling at him, you nod, “Yeah. Have a good day at work…” he squeezes your waist once more before letting go completely. You sit back in his bed as he gets ready, popping in and out of his bedroom as he waltzes in one more time to grab his charger as he looks at you. 

He walks around the bed to your side, eyes trained on you like a man on a mission as he cups your cheek and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead as you break out into such a giddy smile, your cheeks growing bright pink. 

“I’ll see you later, doll.” And with a grin, he walks out.

author’s note »» Part six is over and done with! Reader and Yoongi are being such flirts now, and I can't wait to explore more of the flirtiness these two will have! I really hope you enjoy this! I will see you all soon after I take a small break! :D

previous | masterlist | next

tag list »» @rottingbedpost@muchwita@kam9404@abbythetaurus@petroogorodnik@lolpanda94@yoongiiuu93@miaaa1122@yngisstuff@asyr97@mar-lo-pap@jajabro@wobblewobble822@militrybarbi @voorel @suga-nya@thegirlwithnomiddlename@as-hs-blog@moreficspls@famoussharkflower@giooliveirafreitas@theoldsycamore@aestheticians-world@beomies-world@jenc09 @itttsssshannnnah @millieamilli@amarawayne@moorepls@jessjaz@kenzieisdumb@butterymin@florabloomgirly@snoopkie@thebaratheonlion@hyyhpt2@purple-flowers-07@fortunatelychocolatetale@rkivesoutro@honeypot31@neh-u@ashurb@baby-meowmeow9397@aveline17@meghanacloud@kelsyx33@holmes202@strattie@burningash1101@coffexb@basicallyasummerchild@yunkimineko @kittycad1dsn @bitch–ari@speckofjoy@yoonmimi7@this-most-assuredly-counts@diamonddia-mond@akunemayo@rinkud@ot72025

post separator credit to @enchanthings-a

[ladymrf]

"Ma asked me what the wedding date is."

Tim finds Kon on the roof of the barn, the night sky of the farm is always breathtaking, tonight is no different, Tim sits next to his boyfriend and Kon raises an eyebrow at him in confusion, not understanding the information.

"I showed her the ring." the promise ring Kon gave him when he asked Tim to be his boyfriend "She asked me if we had chosen the wedding date yet."

"Not that I won't propose to you, but a little early don't you think?"

"I told her it was a promise ring, because of our dating, she laughed and apologized, said you didn't tell her you decided to take the long way around."

Kon looks away to the sky and his ears turn a little red, Tim stays silent waiting, he knows his boyfriend well enough to just wait for him to speak, Kon has always been very honest, even with the things he didn't want to say.

"I may have talked to her about it." Kon confessed "Marriage."

"I got a proposal to date, not to marry you…"

"I didn't think it would be fair." Kon turned to look at him, and there came the sincerity that Tim had learned to appreciate over the years. Kon rarely spared him from difficult conversations. Tim took a long time to get used to the ease with which his boyfriend entered into deep and sentimental conversations. "I thought it would scare you."

Tim laughed at the absurdity. It took more than that to make him uncomfortable.

"Kon…"

"No, everything that happened since I died wasn't easy to digest. Tim, when everything ended and you came back to Gotham, Cassie, Bart and I were about to put you under constant surveillance, afraid that something would happen or that you would do something…"

Tim managed to laugh. It made sense. His friends had always been very extremist. It made sense that they were so worried.

"Look, I know I wasn't the picture of mental health, but wasn't that a bit too much…"

"You didn't see yourself, we saw." Kon cut him off, very seriously. "The point is, we only didn't kidnap you because you started to get better and we made a deal to only take you out of there if something extreme happened, because we know how much you consider that hell of a city and the vigilantes."

My home and my family, Tim mentally corrects, but it's been years since he's tried to make his friends absorb Gotham and the bat vigilantes of their sins.

"I was about to explode, waiting for you to stabilize so I could confess to you, my God Tim, I thought I was going to die choking on everything I wanted to say." Kon almost sounds in pain as he speaks. "I told Ma I'd ask you to marry me if you said yes, because fuck everything else, we'd already wasted too much time and dating wasn't necessary when I already knew I'd be yours for the rest of my life."

Tim blinks, partly paralyzed by the force of Kon's words, partly because his entire brain stopped as soon as he heard the confession that yes, Kon wanted to marry him.

"But it wouldn't be fair. Not with you still rebuilding from the hell that was last year, I couldn't put that kind of weight on you just because I want you so much that I can't help but have the most serious form of commitment known to mankind and…"

Tim kisses him. Kisses him so hard that Kon leans back and Tim straddles his thighs, he holds his boyfriend's face and kisses him hard until his lips go numb, when he pulls back smiling, Kon is red and blinking like a confused fish.

"Ask me."

"What?"

"Ask me, ask me now."

"Tim, I don't…"

"Kon." Tim struggles, God knows he struggles to express the next sentence with all the love he has inside him, feelings have never been his strong point, but for Kon he would write a thousand love poems "It's not a burden. Not when all I think about when I hear the word love is your name."

Kon pulls him back for another kiss and after what seems like hours he says against Tim's lips "Wait, I'm going to ask you in the most blatant way I can imagine."

And Tim? My God, Tim was anxious.

...

(If something is written wrong, ignore it, I'm not in the mood to care about grammar.)

[sereia4skz]

Hiii I'm in love with your headcannons! Could I request an imagine/scenario/headcannon with the Stray kids members where reader subdrops emotionally after a particularly rough session? Would love to see their reactions anf how they would comfort and take care of reader 🥰

headcannons | you subdrop after a scene

pairing: ot8!straykids x reader

genre: comfort

warnings: implied sex, subdrop

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

It was a rougher session than usual, emotionally intense, a little humiliating, and just physically overwhelming. Once the adrenaline and endorphins fade, you're quiet, teary, feeling distant, classic signs of subdrop. 

BANGCHAN

He notices immediately. The second your energy shifts, he’s wrapping you in a blanket and sitting you in his lap like you’re breakable.

“There you go, baby. I’ve got you. You don’t have to be okay yet.” His voice is gentle but grounded, guiding you through it. He’ll whisper affirmations: "I'm so proud of you," "You're safe now," "You're not alone." 

He doesn't leave your side for a second, even carries you to the bathroom or helps you get cleaned up. Expect forehead kisses, water with a straw, and his shirt draped over your body.

Ultimate comfort dom. No guilt, no shame, just unconditional love. He almost love this more than the sex.

LEEKNOW

He feels it before you even speak. One look at your expression and he’s already wiping your face with a warm cloth and cradling your hand.

Minho doesn’t say much at first, he just does. He gets you a glass of water, your favorite snacks, and a heating pad if you need it. When you finally sniffle or lean into him, he cups your cheek and murmurs, “That was a lot, wasn’t it, sweetheart? Thank you for trusting me.”

He’ll spoon you silently under five blankets, surrounded by the kittens, until you fall asleep, hand tracing your back, whispering little comforts like “Still with me? Still mine?”

CHANGBIN

Panic mode, but contained. His first instinct is to fix it. He gets you warm clothes, tissues, and cuddles you with his whole chest.

“Hey, hey, come here, you're okay. I’ve got you, baby. Nothing’s wrong, I’m here.”

His tone is firm but affectionate. He’d rock you back and forth, even if you're just holding onto him without speaking. He's freaking out internally wondering if he used too much strength.

If you cry, he does too, quietly, behind your shoulder, because he hates seeing you hurting, especially when it might’ve been caused by something he did (even consensually). He’ll probably apologize a hundred times even though it wasn’t his fault.

HYUNJIN

Softest, gentlest presence imaginable. He immediately wraps you up in something plush and tucks you against his chest, whispering in your ear.

“You were so good, baby. So brave. Do you want to talk? Or just want me to hold you?”

He’ll stroke your hair, pet your cheeks, rock you gently. He might hum to soothe you, quiet lullabies or just soft breathing to help regulate yours.

Tells you over and over how much he adores you. “You’re mine, okay? I’ll always take care of you.”

He takes the drop very seriously. His aftercare game is god-tier, lotions, snacks, fuzzy socks, emotional validation. The aftercare equivalent of being romanced into bed, roses and candles.

HAN

Full-body guilt spiral if he thinks he pushed you too far, even though he knows it was consensual. He gets quiet, eyes scanning you nonstop.

“Shit- hey, are you okay? Wait, no, dumb question! Come here.”

 He wraps you up immediately, rocking you, holding your hands. He babbles soft reassurances slightly too loudly, to keep you grounded: “You’re safe, you’re mine, we’re good, yeah? You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Might cry with you, honestly. But then he makes it his mission to bring you back to yourself, blankets, giggles, warm food, cuddles. Will 100% turn into a baby koala and not leave your side until you laugh at least once.

FELIX

Sweetest touch, lowest voice, he goes ultra nurturing. As soon as he sees your eyes go hazy or teary, he’s cupping your face gently.

“Angel… are you dropping? Come here, let’s breathe together.”

He holds you so tenderly it feels holy. He’ll lie with you chest-to-chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, stroking your hair and whispering affirmations: “You’re so safe with me. Thank you for letting me see all of you. You’re not alone.” 

If you need words, he gives them. If you need quiet, he gives that too. He’ll do little things like kiss your hands, make you tea, keep the lights dim and music soft.

SEUNGMIN

He notices the second your eyes go distant. You don’t even have to say anything, he sits you up, helps you get comfortable, and holds your face between his hands.

“Hey. Look at me. You with me?”

Once he’s sure you’re grounded, he bundles you up and just sits with you. He’s not overly emotional, but he gives you exactly what you need: reassurance without condescension.

“It’s okay to feel weird right now. That’s normal, love. I’ve got you.” 

 He’ll feed you little snacks, give you quiet space if you need it, and offer soft, real praise like: “You were amazing tonight. I’m proud of how strong you are.”

I.N

He freezes for a second if it’s his first time seeing you drop, but then his caretaker instincts kick in hard.

“Oh no, no, come here. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

 He’ll get serious real fast, guiding you to breathe, gently rocking you against his chest while rubbing your back. His voice gets lower, steady, trying to be your anchor.

“You’re safe. You’re mine. It’s okay to cry, baby.”

He'll sit with you through every wave of emotion, keeping you wrapped in his hoodie or his arms or both.

Later, when you’re calmer, he’ll kiss your forehead and pout. “Don’t scare me like that. Tell me next time, okay? I wanna take care of you right.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

taglist pt2: @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere

[moo-chemia]

I'm lowkey highkey obsessed with your scumplane runaways. The feels. The drama. The arson. The wifebeaming.

And I've been pondering, why is CQM looking for SY and SQH? Don't remember if you specified, but hear me out on this...

I feel like SQQ would sliiiiiggtly unload on the other peak lords about them being too dumb to figure out he was possessed (and liking the fake new him more). And YQY would have a guilt-induced qi deviation AND THAT'S when the Xuan Su life force bond could be revealed and SQQ would lose it AGAIN xjabxjsnxbd

So, YQY is in danger and the healers can only give bandaid solutions, SQQ has his cultivation all messed up to fix, An Ding is a mess AND the two runaways know sect secrets. But those two also seemed to know a lot about the world and secret artefacts and miraculous cures, so SQQ is like "Imma bring them back to fix Qi-Ge. And maybe me. And then bring them to justice (totally to get revenge for the body stealing)"

Meanwhile, SY and SQH are frolicking in meadows unaware of rhe massive targets on their backs :D

Oh my god omg omg omg this is AMAZING THANK YOU ANON!!! I had written that CQM was looking for cumplane because they’re lowkey burning down without their logistics peak lord but this is soooooo much better and coherent then what I came up with, I’m definitely incorporating this into the au!! <3

Shen Jiu would shit on the peak lords only to then be horrified when he learns about xuan su and then qijiu reconciliation happens. I’ve mentioned this before but shen jiu was half conscious and only saw some parts of SY!SQQ so he doesn’t know everything but he would def see how much world knowledge cumplane seems to have. Like imagine cang qiong mountain comes to the conclusion that cumplane are cast out gods or heavenly officials due to how much world knowledge/spoilers they seem to have

On a side note, I’ve yet to think how shen jiu would react to shen yuan in this au. He would definitely start out hating shen yuan as a ghost for stealing his body and then be LIVID when shen yuan gets without a cure. But he’s also seen the system being an asshole to shen yuan so shen jiu would probably maybe feel a bit sympathy for him. But also thanks to shen yuan faking his death, yqy finally admits to what happened to shen jiu so maybe getting possessed isnt all that bad- but that’s a ramble for another day.

When cumplane reunites with the peak lords, they’re scared outta their minds and going “holy shit holy shit this is how we die”. Only for them to see the burning chaos that is cang qiong mountain currently and the peak lords be like "Oh great heavenly officials, how do we fix all THIS?"

Cumplane is just confused like WHAT- heavenly officials???

[seafoamreadings]

week of june 29th, 2025

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: the end of this week has neptune going retrograde in your sign. the retrograde overall is not something to fear but do be prepared for 'strangeness' around the station on the 4th. also be advised that this glamorous yet sometimes deceptive planet remains in your sign until october even with that retrograde.

taurus: your ruler venus heads for uranus at the end of your sign; they conjoin on the 3rd. don't make permanent aesthetic or relationship changes but at the same time, it's good to be willing to experiment. do things that make you happy. by the end of the week you find some new financial or material blessing even if small.

gemini: venus graces your sign from friday, just as neptune also turns retrograde in your social eleventh house. it's a really good time to be among friends, although do not expect people *not* to be fickle. you may also enjoy dabbling in a friends-to-lovers scenario?

cancerians: assess what needs to be trimmed away like split ends vs what you want to keep for the long haul. you don't have to actually cut any cords yet, but think about it. and if you want to cut ties already, it's not a bad time for it.

leo: the best advice for you this week is have fun without getting carried away; your image is a central focus in some ways and things become public unexpectedly. so it's important to live in integrity and assume you're being watched.

virgo: do not neglect this week's sun-ceres square. it may not be the best time to harvest or complete a project. if you can leave the fruit on the vine just a little longer, continue to nurture it. on the other hand don't let it go to waste. if there's no chance it can survive from here, better to pick it now.

libra: enjoy closeness with a partner or other important people in your life, perhaps including some you have not been in contact with for a while. meanwhile, avoid combining resources or taking/giving loans for a week or so at least.

scorpio: you may find that a close relationship reaches some kind of startling climax this week. the nature of the result, of course, depends on many personal factors but the upheaval will be shocking either way and probably not a lot of comfort until it passes. if this is not about a relationship with an individual it may relate to your outlook on interpersonal relationships more broadly. it's unlikely to be subtle.

sagittarius: keep a focus on eighth house themes this week. with saturn still pretty much squaring jupiter although more loosely i would advise against loans (borrowing or lending) but after a couple weeks it could be a good time to combine resources with someone else, eg a shared bank account with a spouse. meanwhile it's not a bad time to look into real estate options or even just moving to a new rental house if that's more your speed.

capricorn: without being overtly capricorn/saturn vibes, the astrology is broadly supportive to you due to its strongly cardinal nature at this time. at the same time, those cardinal planets may square your planets. so business is being taken care of and that's your style but also, you may butt heads with some folks in the process.

aquarius: your ruling planet has long been in an uncomfortable position clashing with traditional taurean vibes. next week at last it moves into your fellow air sign, and much more change-positive, gemini. this week though is an urgent push and pull between what you might want to keep or how stubborn you want to be vs good healthy changes.

pisces: venus moves into your 4th house ahead of uranus (who follows next week.) make your home comfy and cozy before the arrival of uranus who will shake things up one way or another. it is good to have a sanctuary in such times.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or fill out this form to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal. private readings are currently closed, but will return in late august :)

[hongjoongspoetry]

A Love Written in Gold

Part 2 — The Garden

🦢 Summary: Dearest reader, as the fateful meeting by the willow looms ever nearer, our dear Miss Lee finds herself under the weighty gaze of familial expectations. With whispers swirling around her, she is compelled to distance herself from her cherished companion Mister Song, all whilst dazzling noble Duke Park. Yet, Miss Lee's heart dances to a different tune, seeking not the ties of love, but the sweet symphony of musical strings. It appears the piano prodigy, Mister Kim, has pledged that his interactions with the exquisite Miss Lee shall remain purely of a professional nature. Lo and behold, as he is caught in the throes of temptation at a most exhilarating horse race, casting furtive glances at the enchanting Miss Lee and her gallant companion, Duke Park. Alas, the bitter taste of lemons lingers cruelly upon his tongue, a most tantalizing reminder of his struggle! But pray, dear reader, while Miss Lee and Mister Kim each harbor their secrets, what hidden shadows might lie behind the confident smiles of other esteemed gentlemen, be they Dukes or Viscounts?

🦢 Pairing(s): Proletarian!Hongjoong x Noble!Reader, Duke!Seonghwa x Noble!Reader

🦢 Genres/Tropes: Bridgerton AU, Regency era, forbidden love, fluff, angst

🦢 Warnings/Tags: no use of (Y/N), female reader, sexism, explicit language, family disputes, familial pressure, emotional manipulation and repression, verbal mockery, sibling feud, invalidation of one's feelings, mild classism/elitist attitudes, jealousy, pressure to conform, subtle coercion, romantic tension, light angst, skinship (not sexual), fear of being caught, wholesome!mingi, but also sad!mingi, petnames (flea, my dear, my diamond, darling, sweetie, little lady, little one)

🦢 Wordcount: 15.4K

🦢 Author's Note: Well, well, well. If it isn't my first real post after my hiatus. The last time I wrote on this part was in October/November of 2024. So it's been in the works for a while... I've really missed writing fanfics, you guys, and I'm so freaking happy to be back! Anyways, in this part we get to know the characters a bit more and their dynamics. For starters, you'll get a better image of the Jeong/Lees and I assume most of you will be disappointed with how the Jeongs act... Let me assure you, it will only go downhill from here ;-; On another note, we get more scenes of our lovely three musketeers!! And for all my yeodongies, Yeosang finally makes his first appearance heheheh... There's so much more I want to say, but I fear that would spoil too much of the chapter... Per usual, I haven't beta read this chapter so except errors and enjoy!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent the idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs refrain from reading this work!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Permanent taglist

The Jeong household was certainly not devoid of company the following two days. Every eligible gentleman in the whole land trekked across hills and sea to vy for your attention. It was a rather exhausting morning with no room for faults to slip past your act of the most demure lady of the century. The long hallway was teeming with handsome men carrying extravagant bouquets and chocolate delicates waiting for their turn to socialize with Miss Lee. The gentleman you were currently conversing with under the watchful eyes of your family was an earl, but over what territory you could not remember for the well-being of your loved ones. 

“Perchance we have spoken enough of my vineyard. Pray, do enlighten me regarding your own endeavors.” 

The brittle bubble wrapped around you burst as the earl’s curiosity pricked its surface. The background crashed into you like a cold wave of sea water and made you overly aware of your surroundings. The burning sensation of Yunho’s eyes on your skin, the loud slurping noise of the caller drinking his tea and the commotion outside that Wooyoung was seemingly having trouble settling. The foul smell of his breath stung your nose and you fought the urge to crinkle your face in sheer disgust. It was a miracle you had not spilled your guts out on the fairly new Axminster carpet. Your pinky was also hurting from its awkward position and your lips longed to be released from their curved confines, but the earl was waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, yes… My pursuits… Well, I find great pleasure in the art of instrumental play, particularly the piano–” The loud and dare you say forced cough of Ireum made you halt and change the course of your response. “That was in my younger days. Now, I have discovered a most profound affection for hand sewing… and reading.”

His spirits lightened at the mention of passing time by reading and put down the teacup, dabbed his mouth with a napkin and leaned back with a hum of intrigue.

“Do tell, which work of literature do you prefer? I find myself rather well-versed in pieces of strategy and martial exploits.”

It was foolish of you to suppose there existed one topic you shared interest in. The novels you read were written by women such as Jane Austen and Anne Radcliff who spread tales of love. Helpless and stranded, you cast a quick glance in Yunho’s direction and wordlessly urged him to come to your rescue. As the shining man in armor he was not, he smoothly swooped into the conversation in three long strides with both of his hands resting respectfully behind his back.

“Excuse me for interrupting the discourse, Lord Gremlin, but I believe Miss Lee has other activities to attend and has to be prepared in due time. Are you not, Sister?”

Lord Gremlin, what a fitting name for his short nature, you thought and sipped on your tea to mask the taunting smirk begging to stretch across your lips. The lord was but a few inches shorter than Wooyoung with a face jarring enough to scare the habitats of a pet cemetery. 

“Yes, indeed. I am to accompany Mister Song to the park, an engagement decided days prior. Forgive my lack of clarity, my Lord.”

The look of utmost disbelief crossed Lord Gremlin’s features and you were certain if not for Yunho’s presence, vile words of distreatment and not being granted the equal amount of time as the prior callers would leave his bitter tongue. 

“Indeed, Miss Lee, it is quite acceptable. Although I do hope for a more prolonged discourse at our next meeting.”

The lord pressed a chaste kiss to the back of your hand and bid farewell to the remaining members of your family. Before the doors could close, Wooyoung slipped in and marched across the room, sparing no one second glances. He snatched all of three biscuits from the almost empty tray and slumped in the warm seat beside you. It was silent in the common room, aside from Wooyoung’s loud chewing, and you knew neither Ireum nor Yunho were overly joyous with the available gentlemen taking it upon themselves to visit the estate, but perhaps it was not the men prancing on Ireum’s toes.

The Dowager Viscountess sighed and set down her teacup, her hands falling over each other on her lap as she turned to you. “Did you feel compelled to mention Mister Song? It does not look good for you, my dear.”

“But Mother, I cannot lie to our guests. It would be truly horrendous if I implied to visit the garden alone and then be seen accompanying Mingi. I believe it better to be honest. Besides, I would not wish to marry a man who is not comfortable with the friendship between Mingi and I.”

“Perhaps it is something we shall discuss then…” Ireum patted the plush padding on her right and you could do nothing, but oblige. 

She cast Yunho and Wooyoung a simple glance telling them to grant you some privacy, that it was not a conversation for their ears. Simple minded men as they were, they could only think of the courses, a natural process of changes a woman went through each month, and scattered as a heap of flies. 

“You see, my diamond.” Ireum gently clasped your hand between hears and caressed the line of your knuckles. “A friendship between a male and a woman is heavily frowned upon. It is unruly and not proper, especially without a chaperone too. It taints you, my dear, and wards off the eligible gentlemen eager to seek you out.”

“But… Mingi is my friend?” 

“I am aware of it, but the rest of the Ton is not, darling and mayhaps you should take into account how your… outings will look amongst outsiders.”

Your brows scrunched together and you slipped your hand out of her hold. “So what am I to do? I am not going to halt our friendship. Mingi is my best friend!”

Word spread around the Ton of the new diamond in the span of a few hours and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on you. Everything from your behavior to interactions was under the watchful gazes of high society, eagerly waiting for you to hand them new material of gossip. It was a drastic change, to say the least, and you could not understand why a simple outing with Mingi would stir up drama. It was not as if your friendship was a secret prior to your debut and it would certainly not lead to a romance either. Nonetheless, if your future partner had an issue with your social circle, perhaps he was not the suitable man for you.

“I am not asking that of you, sweetie, but perhaps do not mention him amongst the suitors. It makes you… undesirable and you, my dear, are a diamond. The diamond. We cannot have a diamond be ruined by whispers and gossip stemming from jealousy…”

As much as you wished to throw a tantrum, cross your arms and assault the floor with the rapid stomping of your feet, you could not. The childish days of whining until your wishes were granted and the object of your desires was in the palms of your hands were over. There was also a certain truth to Ireum’s words. A lady who spoke of man in front of another was not a lady anyone was eager to wed, even if the man posed no threat at all. It did not change the fact that the fear of losing Mingi was perhaps greater than the fear of never finding a husband. In the end, only one resulted in loneliness and to be frank, you were willing to give up the magical moment of falling in love for a lifelong friendship. Mingi would always give you love and that was enough.

“Believe me. I am saying this from my heart because I do not wish to see you face the hatred I did when I married your father.”

The anger sinking its claws into your skin chipped away and you could but harbor sadness and grief for how the Ton treated Ireum. It was unfair and unjust, and you would not wish it upon anyone, certainly not a woman who did not amount to the harsh words society forced upon her. 

Sighing, you leaned into the camel backed sofa and accepted defeat. “I know, Mother. I will not mention Mingi in future discussions if possible.”

Ireum’s satisfied smile shone brighter than the spring seeping through the three paned wide windows, but you could not muster up a smile of your own.

“You are a smart girl, darling. I knew you would listen to me. Your brothers and I are only doing what we deem most fit for you. Most fit to find you a perfect husband.”

The majority of the talks exchanged between ladies of your kind circulated around finding a perfect husband, but you were yet to hear what a perfect husband entailed. Money? Goods? Estates? Perhaps a kind nature and dotting personality? To fill you with babies? It was a question you would save for your maid, considering none of your remaining family members were reliable sources. Despite being men, your brothers had yet to find the women of their dreams and would prove to be quite futile for your wonders. Ireum, on the other hand, had quite the knowledge, but she was someone you would rather not discuss such a topic with. You had an inkling feeling she would push her beliefs upon you in the disguise of spreading wisdom.

“I shall leave now. It would be most improper to keep my company waiting.”

The common room was suddenly void of the many people previously there, safe from Ireum who was left to entertain herself and one could wonder whether it had anything to do with the controlling side of the Dowager Viscountess. It never crossed your mind that Ireum of all people would view Mingi as an obstacle to your future. Sweet and kind Mingi with nothing but love coursing through his veins. You wonder what she would think of him if she were to know of his proposal, you were certain a wedding would already be in the plans.

Turning the corner leading to the entrance of the estate, you masked the groan threatening to escape. Standing by the doors was no other than Wooyoung, your chaperone for the evening. 

“You seem vexed, dear Sister. Did the talk with Mama not go to your liking?” 

“I do not wish to speak of it.”

Wooyoung raised his hands in mock surrender as you continued straight past him. “Your wish is my command, little lady.”

The second-born Jeong held onto his words, but it did not save you from a journey engrossed in conversation. Your brother had quite the mouth on him and it would be foolish to think the ride would be anything but silent in his presence. 

“What do you and Mister Song have planned then? A promenade by the river? Tea and biscuits by Ambrosia?”

“Just a mere promenade, Brother. To indulge in the happenings of our respective lives. Mingi is quite interested in my new life as a débutante and I am simply missing his presence.”

“‘To indulge in the happenings of our respective lives’– As if you do not exchange letters with updates of every little occurrence or mishap in your days!”

“You are merely jealous that I have a pen pal and you do not.” You crossed your arms and tauntingly stuck your tongue out. 

With neither the Dowager Viscountess or the head of the family there to keep order amongst the younger members, you and Wooyoung were free to quarrel as much as your hearts desired to, and it often ended in childish bickering or a brawl of hair-pulling and skin-clawing. The carriage came to a halt and the coachman opened the door, respectfully stepping aside and waiting for either of you to emerge. Being older than you, it was Wooyoung’s duty to step out first, but he lingered longer than necessary. He crossed his legs, rested his interlocked hands on his knee and tauntingly leaned closer to you. 

“Very mature of you, Sister, and pray tell, what man do you believe to gain with such hideous behavior?”

Deep within, you were aware he was just unleashing his frustration because Ireum forced him to be your chaperone for the evening, but you could not deny his words pierced your heart sharper than a dagger and stung greater than a paper cut. Perhaps Yunho would take out his frustration on you too after your return to the estate, it seemed everyone had the urge to mention your absurd immaturity and lack of consequential thinking. Sourness crawled up your throat and spread on the soft surface of your velvet tongue. There was nothing interesting in Wooyoung’s history you could bring up that would scrape off the bitter taste of invalidation and replace it with pride. 

Heeding Ireum’s past words and Wooyoung’s statement, you decided to for once act your age and be the bigger person. Inflicting pain upon your brother would only lower you to his standard. Keeping the tears at bay and far away from Wooyoung’s intense stare, you grabbed the waiting hand of the coachman and exited the carriage. You did not bother waiting for your brother and took off in the direction you and Mingi agreed to meet as if a fire was lit beneath your feet. At least Mingi would not be the one to start a conversation circulating your carefree behavior and what gentleman was unlucky enough to put a ring on your finger. 

As promised in his letter, Mingi patiently stood by the fountain molded to replicate an angel reaching for the sky as water sprinkled out of its hands. The cement sculpture was surrounded by pretty flowers, but nothing could compare to the beauty of your best friend standing with his arms crossed behind his back, posture straight and eyes dancing among the crowd of passersby searching for your familiar face. As they fell upon you, his stoic expression changed and challenged the sun of which shone brighter. Mingi raised his hand high up in the sky and took all of three steps to reach you. A hug would be too inappropriate for the setting and not to mention all the prying eyes. You would not hear the end of it if any of the Jeongs got a whiff of you hugging another man in front of possible suitors, especially not if said man was Mingi after Ireum chastised you for his very presence.

“Good evening, Miss Lee.” 

“I wish the same to you, Mister Song. The weather is rather splendid, don’t you agree?”

“Of course, my Lady…” 

You noticed Mingi shift attention to something behind you and before you could ask him about it, the sound of stepping on gravel grew louder and louder until it completely vanished and the voice of Mingi filled the chirping silence once again.

“Mister Jeong, it is a pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise, Mister Song. It seems we missed each other at His Grace’s ball.”

“Ah, yes. I managed to steal the attention of Lord Jeong and Miss Lee here, but I did not see you.”

Wooyoung chuckled and stepped closer to you, even slung his arm around your shoulders and brought you into his side, much to your dismay. “Yes, she has told me all about your encounter. It is truly a blessing she has a friend the likes of you, Mister Song.”

The words were a double edged sword Wooyoung wielded to strike a chord within the gentle giant before him, yet Mingi did not falter. His smile appeared as if frozen and still displaying the white pearls usually hiding behind his thick lips, and you nearly grinned as his eyes did not break the unspoken contest between him and your brother. Mingi did not participate in quarrels, but he was not afraid to halt Wooyoung’s attacks.

“Perhaps it is I who am blessed to have a friendship with Miss Lee.”

Noticing Mingi did not fall for the bait, Wooyoung hummed and retracted his sword in the scabbard. In return, Mingi faced you again. 

“Would you be so kind as to join me for a gentle promenade?” He brought forth his arm and cheekily smiled, already well aware of your response. There was not a world in which you would decline his propositions. 

Gingerly, you looped your arm through his and allowed him to steer the way. Wooyoung, your chaperone for the evening, settled on a bench with a clear view of the whole park, giving him the possibility to spot you at any given moment and interfere if needed. He ordered Mingi to return you within three quarters of time, leaving no room for arguing. You would just have to fill Mingi in on your daring adventure and hold your end of the promise. It could not be harder than balancing a stack of books on your head through a tea party without letting them topple over, you thought and ignored all the heads turning at your presence or perhaps it was the candy on your left that stole everyone’s attention.

“You appeared rather…” Lowering his voice just for your ears, Mingi dove into another topic. “Perturbed. Is everything alright, little one?”

Bless Mingi and his golden heart. 

“It is just Wooyoung and his annoying antics. Nothing to fret over, I promise.”

From a young age, Mingi struggled with reading books as he could not get immersed in its story, but to him, you were by far the easiest literature to read. He found himself returning to you over and over again. It got to the point where your content was edged into his mind. The hasty averting of your eyes, the slight twitch of your nose and the telltale sign of how you rocked on your feet answered all his questions. It was a plausible lie. As a shadow could not be without light, Wooyoung could not exist without being annoying and Mingi knew better than to let you fence with your own thoughts. Tracing the delicate details on your beautiful face, he smiled widely enough to show his uneven front teeth.

“That is impossible, you will forever be the object of my concern. Do not be shy… It is just I, just Mingi. Speak freely of that which weighs upon your heart.” 

“Do you believe…” You started with a confidence that died quicker than a bee losing its stinger.

Mingi was a man after all and displaying your feelings for him to see was further proof Wooyoung was right in his statement. Only children cried over silly things and you were not a child anymore. It did not help that Ireum’s warning buzzed in your head as a swarm of agitated wasps. Perhaps you should not indulge Mingi with every occurrence in your life. Friends did not need to disclose everything about each other and maybe it would give you space from him, to show the eligible suitors you were not that close to hi– 

“Do I believe what?” Mingi’s prying question broke you out of your thoughts. 

You could compare the shame with the branding of an iron, lighting your skin on fire and feeling the need to hide from Mingi’s round, concerned eyes. How selfish of you to even imagine such a horrid take. Losing Mingi would not magically transport you to the majestic church, where most aristocrats were proclaimed married, dressed in a white wedding gown while staring into the loving eyes of your soon-to-be-husband. The guilt was burning you alive, if the shame did not suffocate you before. Swallowing the bundle of complex emotions, you pushed Ireum and Wooyoung out of your head, and flung your concern into the universe.

“Do you believe I am… difficult?”

Had it not been for the many people listening in on each other’s conversations in disguise of enjoying the sunny weather, Mingi would have stopped your leisure promenade and gently dragged more information out of you. He settled on a glance out the corner of his eyes, worry painted across all of his features. Long seconds filled the time from when you asked him the question and Mingi still kept his thoughts a secret. You did not pressure him though. Mingi was a thinker and would sometimes take two quarters of the time before he was content with the answer concluded in the safety of his mind. That was what many years of friendship and discussions taught you. As you reached the opposite side of the pond and stood straight across from where your brother was resting on the bench, Mingi cleared his throat and slowed the brisk walk to a leisure stroll. He was satisfied with his thinking and was ready to share it with you. 

“I do not know what the certain topic revolves around, alas it does not matter. You are not difficult, little one. It is the contrary, in fact. The people around you are the ones who are difficult. Your nature is one of kindness, patience, and respect, particularly amidst social gatherings. You seldom articulate your true sentiments, fearing it may bring pain upon others, even if they have wronged you first. Yet, when you do unveil the profound thoughts that you keep concealed from the world, you lay bare your remarkable intellect. In my regard, such an individual is not challenging, but rather one of great thoughtfulness and charm.”

Dog Days Are Over, Vitamin String Quartet, 0:40-1:40

The basic socializing knowledge you possessed was reduced to dust with Mingi’s response. A heavy pressure burned the back of your eyes and it would only be a matter of seconds until the tears kissed your smooth cheeks, and your voice would be nothing but the shiver of a sound. Regardless, you were never one for speeches and words, that was Mingi’s speciality, evidently enough. Therefore you settled on a gentle, barely-even-there brush of your fingers along his bicep. The touch conveyed a gratitude you could not muster up with words and Mingi knew so as he met your gaze, harshly shut his eyes as if to say, ‘You’re welcome’.

“Let us move along, little one. I take it there is something else you tend to share with me, preferably in the absence of these numerous listeners and watchful gazes…”

As the viscount-in-waiting advanced forward, you did not move from your spot on the gravely path. Mingi faced you with the expression of a question mark, wondering what the hold up was.

“My brother… He is my chaperone, so we cannot venture out of his sight.”

For it is well understood that Wooyoung would seize upon the slightest of opportunity to create an excuse to return to the estate, where a plethora of fun events awaited him. 

Mingi grinned that boyish-smile of his you had come to learn only meant there was a grave detail you missed. He nodded slightly behind you and as you turned, you came to witness Wooyoung accompanied by an unknown man, you guessed him to be a lord or viscount of some sort, and a young lady hiding her cheeks the color of ripe apples behind a flimsy fan. You could not find it in you to feel sorry for him. 

“Shall we, before he takes notice of our absence?”

“Let us,” you replied with a pearly smile and slid your arm out of his, trailing it down the path of his vein and interlocked your fingers in a sturdy grip. 

Mingi gave it a tentative squeeze and hastened his steps. You barely managed to bunch up your dress before you took off into a sprint. The pedestrians jumped out of the way, whether it be from Mingi’s loud hollers of ‘Excuse me’ and ‘Coming through’s accompanied by your giggling or the loud stomping of your feet.

Nonetheless, they hastily stepped to the side as if a second away from being chugged over by a steam locomotive. The dove trapped in your chest soared at Mingi’s laughter and you forgot all about the crude words spoken by your own family

The sun cast a burning glow over the earth and every lady held tightly onto their flowery umbrellas, wary of attaining a sunburn. It gave you the perfect excuse to hide in the shade of the big willow tree. To be frank, it was not your fault the branches of the tree toppled over itself as a waterfall and separated you from the outside world. The grass was not anyone’s property and whoever wished to seek what was, or rather what was not, happening, would be free to do so. 

A table, big enough for a board of chess, occupied the space between you. The two sets of chairs positioned on each side of the table were carved out of the same tree and if it were not for your tiredness, you would be reclusive to sit on moldy chairs.

“Are you most assured that this supposed piano prodigy shall grace us with his presence?”

“Very much indeed so, Mings. I explicitly told him to meet me by the big willow tree and is this not the biggest tree in London?” 

You leaned back against the wooden chair, hands falling over your lap and mouth curved into a lip-tight smile. Hongjoong was in fact running late. As you were not in possession of a watch, you could not say with how much, but your and Mingi’s conversation should not have been longer than three discussions.

“Is the prodigy at least a handsome gentleman?” Mingi suddenly cut in.

It suddenly dawned on you that Mingi had no idea of how Mister Kim looked. A dreamy smile climbed up your face.

“His hair is the color of a beautiful sunset and his eyes are warmer than coffee in the morning. They melt you from within and have you craving for more.” You started while counting the most subtle details of Hongjoong’s face from memory. “What else…? He has a pointy nose and thin rosy lips, and his smile! Oh, Mingi, his smile makes even the stars envious of its brightness.”

In all his eighteen years of being your friend, not once had Mingi witnessed such a love-sick look on your face whilst a man was the center of your conversation. It was a delightful sight. Seeing you happy. It was something Mingi missed dearly and albeit, he could bring out a smile from you, it was not one born from the depths of your very soul. 

“I do not wish to be insensitive, flea, yet might it be inappropriate of me to presume you are quite… enamoured with Mister Kim?”

He truly did not intend to be the gloomy cloud standing between you and the rays of sunshine. Mingi only wanted what was best for you and, dear Lord, if you would get a nickel every time people reasoned with that logic, you would be the wealthiest person of the Ton. 

“I… I solely admire his talents, Mings. Do not fret over me. I am very well aware of my duty as a debutante. Mother and my brothers are pestering me with it every day, so, please, do not join them!” 

That, he did not. Mingi would rather marry and have five children the following day before he ever sided with your family. He hastily apologized, his hand taking yours in a comforting embrace, which you accepted with a squeeze.

 You were inching closer to your fifth change of topic. Although you held tightly onto the hope of Hongjoong sliding through the feather-veined leaves, Mingi was not. If you were the epitome of calm, then Mingi was the polar opposite. His leg would not stop bouncing and his thumb always seemed to find its way back between his teeth leaving the skin around his nail raw and bruised. It was a bad habit he carried from his days as a little boy and no matter what, he could not get rid of it.

The impatience prickled Mingi in the rear as he shot up from his seat and paced back and forth. His right hand ran over the soft surface of his chin, the stubble lightly pricking his fingers, but it did nothing to bring him out of the suffocating bubble. It was just a matter of time before Mingi had to bring you back to Wooyoung, the rehearsed line of ‘We lost track of time following a hoard of butterflies’ waiting to be launched into existence. Mingi could not lie and say he was not interested in meeting the mystery man, considering you had nothing to offer but a name and vague, but quite captivating description of his features. However, the fear of Wooyoung’s scrutinizing gaze was bigger than Mingi’s curiosity. Not to mention his relation to Yunho. If Mingi stepped on the feet of the younger Jeong, it would broaden his already big distance with the viscount.

Mingi abruptly stopped as he passed the table and the change in pace startled you out of your thoughts. He pressed his hands on the top rail of his chair and leaned over it. Your view was obscured by his broad figure and the beautiful, green scenery behind him turned into a blur.

 “It is best if we return–”

The ruffling of leaves rippled down the middle of his sentence and stole the breath from both of you. Slowly, as the seasons changed from summer to autumn, Mingi turned around and locked eyes with a man giving even Wooyoung, the shortest man Mingi knew of, a run for his wealth. The longer he stared at the unknown man, the more familiar his features became and not because he had seen him walk the streets of London. 

“...His hair is the color of a beautiful sunset and his eyes are warmer than coffee in the morning. They melt you from within and have you craving for more. What else…? He has a pointy nose and thin rosy lips, and his smile! Mingi, his smile makes even the stars envious of its brightness.”

A hatch in the far back of his mind came undone and opened a door leading to his memories that left Mingi gaping like a fish fresh out of a pond. If it were not for your rambling moment earlier, Mingi would never have guessed the man standing before him was the Hongjoong.

The thought of being caught (doing absolutely nothing) bubbled to a panic forcing you to stand up. The fact that Mingi was rooted to his spot, back straight and nails digging into the palms of his hands, was alarming. Your friend was rarely rendered speechless and it could not have been Wooyoung emerging through the wall of leaves, otherwise the script of losing track of time would come into play. The gentle summer breeze whisked through the air and the leaves stirred yet again. You could not stay there frozen for the rest of the evening, you concluded. The minutes were counting down until Wooyoung would start patrolling the park, searching for his little sister and her giant of a friend. 

“I beg your pardon, Mister. It appears I have mistakenly ventured to the incorrect destination.”

An explosion of fireworks set off in your abdomen and the familiar voice was the match lighting each and every one. Your presence was known as you stepped out from behind Mingi. A timid smile graced your face and the warmth kissing your cheeks was not from the scorching sun. 

“Mister Kim,” you greeted, your eyes barely meeting his.

“Miss Lee! I apologize if I am intruding on your… moment.”

Mingi, finally breaking out of his frozen posture, hastily dismissed Hongjoog’s claim. “Not at all! In fact, we have been waiting on you.”

“We?”

“Very much so. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mingi Song, first son and heir of the seventh Viscount Song. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Kim.”

Mingi’s hand hovered in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time until Hongjoong accepted it. The pianist glanced in your direction for a flicker of a second. He was quite unsure of your relationship with Mingi, but it had to be close considering he was aware of Hongjoong’s existence. He would not mention it, although it was a tiny rock in his shoe, wanting to know of your exact correlation to the gentleman.

“I see you are already well versed with my existence… Regardless, it is my pleasure, Mister Song.”

Inhaling a breath for confidence, you stepped forward and successfully attained the attention of the both men. “Take a seat, please. We do not have much time until I shall return.”

“I deeply apologize for my tardiness.”

“Pray, do not fret. All shall be well as long as we make haste… Mister Song, if you would?”

Said man playfully saluted and disappeared through the wall of hanging branches. The intent was for him to stand guard a few paces from the willow tree and signal if anyone was walking toward you. The green sanctuary was beautiful, even more so with the many rays of sunshine peeking through its long and thin leaves, but you could not stop admiring the man before you. The man who was staring up at the tree with the edges of his lips curled as if observing the root of everything cute. The light breeze shattered his focus and as you locked gazes, you darted your eyes down to his trousers. Hongjoong looked far more charming dressed in a casual black attire, than in the sparkly suit the other night. The sight of his hair haphazardly falling over his forehead and the white sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms played double Dutch with your emotions. 

Silently, he walked up to the seat previously occupied by Mingi and rested both of his hands on it. You waited for his next move, but when Hongjoong did not budge, you glanced up only to find him already looking at you. The breath hitched in your throat at the sudden attention and you thanked the nature of humans for not having the ability to make out the thumping of one's heart.

“May I sit down?”

You blinked once, twice, and then realized why Hongjoong was staring when your lashes fluttered against your cheek a third time. He waited for you to step back, to give him space and allow him to sit down as you previously asked. 

“Of course,” you squeaked out and hastily retracted, nearly tripping over your own feet. It certainly would not be the first time.

A heavy silence settled over the table. The soft notes of the piano were not there to sing the tension away and you had to make due with the light chatter of people and the gentle wind swishing through the leaves. Perhaps it was the magic of the ball making you easy to talk with or the adrenaline of being separated from your brothers, the ones keeping their eyes on you, failing arguably, no matter the circumstance, that gave you a surge of bravery to confront the pianist. It would certainly explain why neither jumped into a conversation. The lack of noise on the other side of the table could be inferred as Hongjoong disagreeing with the proposal. Another part of your brain tugged to a more wishful thinking, believing Hongjoong came because he was rather keen on your idea.

The sound of his voice sliced through your thoughts and allowed the water suffocating you from inside to spill out, giving you a moment to breathe.  

“You wanted to discuss the arrangement for our lessons, Miss Lee?”

“Yes! I mean… yes.”

“What did you envision?”

Like a stick untangling from the bundle of branches and mud, the dam broke loose and you explained the plan you struck together over the course of two restless nights. Hongjoong did not interrupt you once. He simply granted you the time to speak and lay out everything you had in mind. 

"Twice a week,” you said. "Ming– Mister Song and I have three weekly outings, yet we could transform two of such occasions into piano lessons at the esteemed Song estate. No one would suspect a thing.”

“But… Mister Song is an unwed man and... so are you, I mean, an unwed woman. Would that not cast light to the situation?”

In your long rambling you forgot to mention the key to the plan, your and Mingi’s friendship.

“Ah, uh, you see… Mister Song and I are, uh… rather close.”

Hongjoong arched his brow and propped his elbows on the table, resting his lips on the side of his clasped fingers. “Close?” 

“A most platonic bond! We have been dear friends since our tender youth and hold no romantic inclinations towards one another, therefore it would not raise suspicion of my visit at the Song manors.”

It was the first time you mentioned the friendship frowned upon by all of London. The fear of finding disgust in the cracks and crevices of Hongjoong’s face was haunted by the threatening words of Ireum you so thoughtlessly ignored. The callous reaction you expected did not breach the surface and you could only hope his mind was clear of malicious thoughts too. 

“And how shall I explain my presence on their grounds?” Hongjoong asked and put barely any emphasis on the new discovery of your and Mingi’s friendship.

“Lord and Lady Song are rarely home. Lord Song is beset with numerous meetings throughout the day, while Lady Song frequently engages in social pursuits with the other ladies of the Ton. The Song estate is empty, safe for the maids and butlers, and Mingi, of course.”

Satisfied with the answer, Hongjoong put pressure on other points regarding your arrangement. He wished to not be so curt, but he could not think of another way to properly articulate his thoughts. 

“You mentioned it would not be without expense… Does that still stand?”

“Of course,” you replied without missing a beat. 

“How much do you intend to offer?”

Business transactions and discussing paychecks was certainly not ladylike, yet you could not ignore the crackling of pride exploding along your spine. It felt good being in charge and actually listened to. No wonder your brothers acted high and mighty, they were never forced to hush and sit there all dolled up. 

“I was thinking a hundred pounds an hour.”

You could not hinder the giggle from bubbling out at Hongjoong’s gaping mouth and wide eyes. A pink dust settled over his usually pale cheeks and he coughed away the embarrassment.

“Excuse my… boldness, but may I inquire as to where you think to receive such a considerable sum? You are rather young and a…”

Your chuckles died as he did not finish his sentence. It was not that you took offense to Hongjoong’s question as he was not wrong in his statement. Everyone was aware women did not have their own income, unless they opened their own businesses like a modiste shop,  worked in a factory or as a nurse, and Hongjoong had all the right to wonder where his pay would come from. Did it still sting knowing you would be reduced to nothing but a mere lady with nothing to her name that would follow her to the grave? Very much indeed so.

The question hung heavy between you, but before you could answer, a sharp whistle whizzed through the air and put a pause on the conversation. 

“Someone is coming,” you breathed out, but were unable to move.

“What?”

Another whistle, more frantic than the first one, reached your ears and sliced the ropes tied around your limbs keeping you in place. You stood up and urged Hongjoong to follow. He did not prod further, but you could see the questions hovering around his head begging to be answered.

“You have to leave. Now.”

You grabbed his forearm and dragged him toward the opposite end of the willow tree, all and every warning of society buried six feet below as your skin touched his. 

Your heart dropped in your stomach as Wooyoung’s raised voice sounded on the other side followed by Mingi’s calmer and softer tone. Without thinking, you pushed Hongjoong behind the slender trunk of the tree and prayed he would not fall in Wooyoung’s line of sight. 

“Mister Jeong, I was merely fetching lemonade as requested by Miss Lee. The day is exceedingly warm, and I did not desire for her to wander about in a state of thirst.”

“Sister!”

You just about jumped from beside Hongjoong’s hiding form and plopped down on the chair closest to you as Wooyoung emerged from the branches. Although Wooyoung was a menace, he was first and foremost your brother and it was evident by the way he grabbed your wrists and eyed you from head to toe, ensuring you had not come to harm. Moments such as these where his protective side shone the brightest were few and always caught you off guard.

“I searched the whole park for you! We agreed you would be back before the clock turned three, do you know what time it is? It is currently half past three!”

You all but managed to take half a breath before he answered on your behalf. Wooyoung’s concern was dipped in a pint of anger and you knew he was just worried about losing sight of his one responsibility and over what Ireum would put him through if word spread of the incident. Wooyoung snapped his head in Mingi’s direction, reminding the giant of a startled owl, and leveled him with furious eyes. 

“You are lucky she takes great liking to you, otherwise you would be facing grave consequences. If one suggests a promenade, Mister Song, they are to be with the lady at all times and not wander around like a headless chicken in search of lemonade!”

You gently pulled at Wooyoung’s hands and whispered for him to stop. “Mingi is not at fault for our tardiness. If you are to blame someone then it shall be me, Brother. I was feeling quite parched and requested for something to soothe my thirst. Ming– Huh– Um, Mister Song went out of his way to accommodate me, is that not admirable of him, Brother?”

Mister Jeong’s eyes narrowed and his lips pressed firmly together, refusing to acknowledge the taller man’s good deed. When he could not find further reason to diminish Mingi’s presence, he cleared his throat and stepped away. 

“We shall take our leave. We have exceeded the time given by Mama.” 

To avoid standing there awkwardly, Wooyoung pushed his hair back, completely ignoring your praise and intertwining your arms together. As he dragged you from beneath the willow, he could not help but complain about potential bugs falling into your hair. Another subtle nag at Mingi’s carelessness that the young man had no vote in the choice of setting. Mingi followed your moving forms until you disappeared behind the wall of leaves. As you left, Hongjoong emerged from behind the tree with his hands in the pockets of his pants and whistled a low note. He took a stance beside Mingi, both yet to utter a word of what ensued seconds ago. 

Mingi handed Hongjoong a lemonade and drank from his own.

“Come by the Song Estate on Wednesday around noon and inform the maidservants of your arranged meeting with the heir-in-waiting, Mister Song. No further details should be disclosed.”

The modiste was a rather busy shop that Tuesday afternoon and Hongjoong regretted heeding Jongho’s word of stopping by. The trio, Hongjoong, San and Jongho, had been in the shop for a good amount of time and were yet to find a suit for your and Hongjoong’s lessons. Had the choice been left to the man in question, he would not buy new attire. Why would he when the one from the ball was in perfect condition to be used again?

Jongho did not share the same sentiment and vowed to tear all of Hongjoong’s old clothes, expensive as well as cheap, if he did not agree to visit the Blue Bird, which was how they got there in the first place.

The shop had a peculiar layout and unlike the other businesses in town, the boutique was divided into two parts. On the left side of the singular entrance door was a bay window displaying mannequins wearing elegant suits and dresses with black font reading The Blue Bird across the glass. The floor was elevated and decorated with a leather armchair and floor lamp that were crammed in the corner by the window. A finishing touch was the emerald green rug, not bigger than a coffee table, which was vertically placed on the dark oak floor in front of the furniture. The walls, a white tapestry, were a contrast to the floor, but appeared far more luxurious than some of the big estates owned by wealthy men and women. Three steps reaching from one wall to the other led to the remaining part of the room. The shop would have been bare of color if it were not for the various textiles hanging on a long rack occupying the majority of the left wall of the boutique. 

The first area was tiny and barely big enough to house five people at once, yet the owner managed to fit a generous amount of furniture despite its size. Hongjoong was certain the room had reached its limit, but he was proved wrong as he laid eyes on the counter where the seamster presumably kept his orders and other important paperworks. Between the wall full of color and counter was an opening leading to the remaining part of the shop, but was divided by a black cardigan looking fabric. Although the trio had no reason to explore further, Hongjoong was still curious about what was hiding behind the curtain. 

“What about the sapphire velvet one?” Jongho grabbed barely an inch of a random fabric hanging off the rack between his index finger and thumb. “I believe it suits your complexion.”

Hongjoong was lazily seated on the leather armchair whose main purpose was for decoration. The armrest held the weight of his elbow as the tip of his fingers pressed against his forehead, keeping it upright. 

“You have claimed that for the past five colors too. Just decide for me and let us leave.”

“I cannot help but worry, Hongjoong. Do you really truly consider this to be a smart idea?” San, always the voice of reason, whispered. 

While his friend and cousin argued whether a new suit was necessary, the boxer could not stop thinking about why he would need it. The whole ordeal sounded too good to be true and a complete disaster waiting to happen. There was so much that could go wrong and ruin not only Hongjoong and your life, but everyone involved including Jongho, San and Mingi’s.

San did not understand how neither you nor Hongjoong seemed to take a minute of your day to actually think about what was on the line. If word got out about this arrangement, all hell would break loose. Your reputation as the Diamond of the season would go up in smoke and you would either be a spinster for the rest of your life or forced to marry the first best man that comes along the way. Considering what Hongjoong’s first impression of your older brother was, it would not surprise San if Mister Jeong alone was the reason behind Hongjoong’s demise, whether it be through a duel or a more diplomatic approach.

“Of course. I do not see how it could be anything but smart.”

“Hongjoong, it is a rather grave situation you have found yourself in. Should you not… I do not know, maybe weigh out the good and bad of the whole predicament?”

“I already have and I appreciate you looking out for me, San, but there is no reason to grow early white hairs. She promised to pay well and what better way to earn money than to teach a measly girl a few melodies on the pianoforte?”

“There are more important things than money. Think about it. This could look really bad for you if your little agreement reaches the ton. I mean, you saw how furious her brother was for being late. What do you think will happen when he sees his beloved little sister alone in a proximate position with a no-name lad?”

“Nothing. Nothing is going to happen,” Hongjoong bit back. “San, the offer is too good to pass up. Imagine what we could do with that money. No more living on a handful of pennies each month and worrying if the roof of Crescent will collapse or eating scraps for supper. We can start living as true gentlemen and pursue our every ambition. You want to give Crescent a new appearance? Let us. You want to expand it further? I say, why not?”

The ambitious tone possessed by a leader steering his men to a stone cold death dwindled and took on a much softer turn, almost as if Hongjoong was begging to be heard.

“San… I could truly devote myself to music… Yet for such a dream to flourish, I must embrace the chance, even if it means losing the little baggage I have left.”

The boxer had nothing to offer and thus remained silent. It was clear Hongjoong’s ears were stuffed with too much wax to really hear where San was coming from. He exhaled a breath of defeat and crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscle flexing beneath his clothes. 

LION, JIAREN, 0:10-0:30

The loud clicking of boots drowned out the shuffling and boisterous laughter of the gentlemen interested in placing orders for new suits. A man wielding the beauty of a swan emerged from the sea of men with long hats and tailcoats brushing their shins. The beauty he was blessed with belonged in an art museum and his face was the kind people proclaimed their love for in songs.

It was Hongjoong's second encounter with the modiste responsible for most, if not all, of the Ton's appearance and he was once again astonished by the seamster’s natural beauty. Hongjoong was a lot of things, but he was not jealous of other’s physical appearance. That was until he met the man with chestnut colored hair, ocean blue eyes and a nose sculpted by Antonio Canova himself. The most captivating feature of his were not his vibrant lips or razor sharp eyes, but the raspberry smudge situated right next to his left eye, a kiss from Aphrodite.

“I apologize for the hold up, gentlemen.”

“Ah, Yeosang,” Jongho chimed and suddenly appeared alongside Hongjoong. “I was wondering where you ran off to.”

San and Hongjoong raised a brow each at the outgoing behaviour of their withdrawn companion. Yeosang did not seem to find the sudden friendliness out of the ordinary and put the shining pieces of fabric on his work bench.

“It is difficult not to stray with everyone placing orders for the same day, Mister Choi. But I take it you, an esteemed business man, should be very well aware of the stress in the industry.”

“Quite a bit.” Jongho smiled, the gums of his mouth showing for all the guests of Blue Bird. 

Yeosang, or Mister Kang as every patron called him beside Jongho, brushed past the subtle flirting of the pub owner and jumped straight into the reason for their appearance. 

“How can I be of assistance this fine evening? I take it my suits were to your liking and you have returned for more?”

“Something along those lines,” Hongjoong replied and stood up. He hid his hands in the pockets of his slacks, a pair borrowed by San who claimed he could not venture into town dressed in color stained and ripped pants. “It is only I who is in need of another suit… But perhaps something less… outstanding, nothing meeting the standard of the white pattern, please. I need something suitable for a gathering between friends.”

“It is quite a peculiar order you are placing, Mister. Many patrons travel days for my extravagant work and pay a good penny to make them the center of attention, but you? You wish to do the exact opposite.” 

Yeosang crossed to the wall portraying various patterns and lazily swept his hand through the different garments. He stopped on a bland-looking, at least in his eyes, maroon fabric and pinched it between his thumb and index finger. The material was pulled out for the buyer to see and unlike others, Hongjoong gave a nod of approval within five seconds of examining the selected cloth. 

Yeosang sighed as he gathered the garment. “I cannot make any promises, but I guess I will do my best to make you… blend in with the background.” 

“There is no doubt in my mind. Your hands are made out of gold, afterall.” Jongho reached for the material in Yeosang’s hands with the wish to ease his burden, but was halted as a bell jingled and alerted the entrance of yet another customer. 

Whispers broke out in the shop barely bigger than the locker rooms of Crescent and caught the attention of everyone in the room.

“Your Grace,” Yeosang greeted as his lips slightly curved up, a detail hard to notice, but the difference was there for the three gentlemen previously engaged in a conversation with the modiste.

The Duke simply walked past the remaining men and disregarded their presence as if they were not worth the time of his day, despite having met them at his ball. Hongjoong jumped to the conclusion that they were not that important for the bird brain of his to remember.

“Mister Choi,” he greeted with a nod, which Jongho returned, and then faced the modiste. “Mister Kang, I see you are quite busy this afternoon.”

“You of all people, Your Grace, should know I am busy more days than I am not.”

His Grace chuckled and Hongjoong could not calm the boiling anger threatening to spill over and burn everyone in his vicinity. Perhaps it was the boisterous nonchalance of the Duke or how everything was put on hold the moment he stepped foot inside the shop. There was truly nothing more Hongjoong despised than the upper class and their privileges. 

“Then it would be rude of me to request a new suit?”

Yeosang rounded the cashier register and placed Hongjoong’s chosen garment on the counter. He took out a lithe book from beneath the desk and flipped through the pages until he found a clean sheet.

“I am fully-booked for the upcoming three weeks… But allow me to guess, you need the attire before that?”

Seonghwa leaned against the counter yet still managed to tower over Yeosang and produced a sealed envelope from inside his jackpocket. He slid the white paper across the tabletop, bearing no mind to the witnesses around them, and winked.

“You do know me so well. I am to accompany Miss Lee to the horse race in two weeks time and I would wish to look presentable in her wake. Well, I have also noticed that I have not acquired a new suit in quite some time.”

The mental connection between the Chois was so strong that both cousins found Hongjoong’s face as a moth would spot a torch. The latter did his best to ignore their prying eyes and cast his own to the pristine clothes of the duke. What you and the duke planned had nothing to do with him. He was just your unofficial teacher. The story ended there and the rope that bound you together was as simple as a bow knot, and would eventually be undone with no further effort. You would return to your life of wealth and privilege with the newfound talent for piano playing, and Hongjoong would already be set to sail across the sea, with an amount of gold coins his family line had never heard of, let alone witnessed. 

Yeosang held Seonghwa’s gaze and without breaking contact, he accepted the envelope and closed his calendar. “You are lucky I am effective, Your Grace. Let us take a round and decide what it is you wish for.”

Seonehwa appeared over the moon as Yeosang accepted his order, as if the duke did not plan for that to happen. No more words were exchanged and the trio watched the seamster and duke part from the counter and inspected the different fabrics. The three musketeers did not make a peep while Seonghwa did his rounds. He certainly took his time and apparently the various textiles displayed in the first room were not enough. It was first when they disappeared into the other room, that the Choi cousins turned to Hongjoong with sparkles in their eyes. San reminded him more of a puppy begging for a treat, but Jongho on the other hand was rather mischievous, evil-looking if you will. The pianist raised a brow, his way of asking what they had in mind. 

San, ever the optimistic one, fell right into Hongjoong’s trap. “Shall we attend the horse rac–”

“For what reason exactly should the three of us attend the horse race? Must I remind you what kind of people events such as that cater to?”

The rejection was sharp and quick, crushing any and all hope San harbored in that broad chest of his. 

“Do you not find it the least intriguing that His Grace and Miss Lee are attending the race together?” Jongho asked, chin tilted to the ceiling and hands clasped behind his back, avoiding Hongjoong’s hard eyes.

A line of confusion appeared between Hongjoong’s furrowed brows and his lips ached from their downturned position. “No, Jongho. There is not much that interests me nowadays, let alone an arranged encounter between diamonds and gold.”

“I have never been to a horse race before.”

Jongho threw an arm around San’s shoulders, forcefully bringing the slightly taller man down to his level. 

“See, if you will not do it for yourself then do it for poor Sannie here. It has been his lifelong dream to watch a dozen five hundred kilogram beasts gallop in a circle. My cousin would do anything to be squished in a crowd of greedy men and women betting an insane amount of money that could feed the whole population of starving children living on the streets of London. Pretty please?”

“No,” he replied and it was final.

Hongjoong abhorred the rich with a fire challenging his passion for music and he was not paying a good sum to sit amongst the people he despised.

The crinkling of burning wood and utensils clattering against porcelain filled the spacious room. The Jeong family was not keen on making small talk during dinner time and everyone usually relied on Wooyoung to bring life to the socialisation. The younger brother seemed to not be in a talkative mood as he kept his mouth occupied with bites of steak and sips of his favorite champagne.

That's why everyone was taken aback when Yunho opened his mouth one evening while you were all gathered around the enormous dining table big enough to seat twenty people rather than a family of four.

“I met His Grace the other day.  He was quite happy to see me.”

Ireum hummed from her end of the table and hastily patted her red lips with a napkin. “That sounds wonderful, Yunho dear. His Grace is certainly a great companion to have by one's side.” 

You pushed around the peas on your plate, not nearly as interested in the new conversation as your remaining family members. The only man to cloud your mind was none other than the pianist the world had yet to hear of.

“His Grace asked about you, Sister.”

A rattling sound sliced everyone’s ears as the pea squeezed between your fork and plate catapulted across the dining table, landing in Wooyoung’s champagne. The maids and butlers on standby did not flinch, but the same could not be said for your family. Wooyoung was already halfway through complaining about his champagne, now contaminated by your germs, and a piece of Yunho’s steak slipped off his fork and landed on his lap, leaving a fat grease spot impossible to get out. A hushed ‘oh, dear’ escaped Ireum as she rubbed the growing ache blooming across her forehead.

“Apologies,” you sheepishly whispered and put your fork to rest on the clothed table. The flare of your cheeks was bringing a sweat to your already warm figure. “You were saying, Brother?”

“His Grace, Duke of Beaumonte, told me he wished to escort you to the races in two weeks' time.”

The possibility of the sun rising in the west was greater than witnessing Yunho smile and confess the act of a man asking about his little sister, yet there you were and the sun was still bound to rise in the east and set in the west, like any other day. Where the scary Yunho with eyes the epitome of death had disappeared to was a question burning in the back of your mind. This was not the reaction you expected to get out of your brother. Wooyoung? Perhaps, he was quite unpredictable. One day he could be bouncing with joy and the next, everyone and everything in his way was going to encounter his wrath. 

However, Yunho? 

There was nothing to smile about in his life and certainly not over the fact that another man was more or less showing interest in his sister.

But it was not just another man. It was the Duke of Beaumonte, the handsome man with piercing eyes and cherry red lips that every lady wished to stand by the side of. The lit fireplace was not the sole reason for the sudden change in temperature. The mere thought of His Grace seeking Yunho out with you in his interest sent sparks to the tips of your fingers and toes. A proper lady could not be without good manners and what was good about a lady  who jumped around, a wide grin on her face unable to contain her squeals?

Absolutely nothing.

“Oh.”

Your anti-climatic response yearned for everyone’s attention as a shimmering doxy in a room full of men with jewelry adorning their ring finger. It even caught Wooyoung’s eyes who was mourning his pea infused champagne. The feast was abandoned and left to freeze at the amount of cold shoulders received.

“Oh? I am sorry, is something the matter?” 

You shoved a piece of steak in your mouth to spare yourself a few moments to think.

Swallowing, you gently replied, “No, Brother. I was simply not expecting to attract the eye of someone with such importance as His Grace.”

The glances shared by the eldest pair seated on each end of the table went over your head and the piano prodigy was quickly forgotten as the light was angled on another man, maybe not equally gifted, but carrying a good, to be precise, the best, reputation in the Ton. 

“You are the diamond, dear. Your concern should be of who you have not intrigued rather than who is. Gentlemen from wide and far come for an inch of your time. It is certainly no surprise His Grace is amongst that category.”

“...Yes, Mother,” you replied with a tight-lipped smile to cover the traces of defeat, but even the tiniest of paw prints were impossible to hide in a snow-befallen field.

Ireum took a calculated sip of the wine imported from the Portuguese islands of Madeira, her favorite kind. The fermented liquid tasted better now that she could drink it in the confines of her own house instead of sneaking into a pub around the corner, seduce the first man that was most likely to give into her red lips and cunning eyes, and order her a glass of Madeira. Ireum allowed a silence to stretch across the room, giving you a chance to come through with your thoughts. As the silence continued, she put down the almost empty wine glass and patted her sweetened lips dry with a napkin.

“Yunho, dear? Accept the proposal. Tell His Grace that Miss Lee will with honor accompany him to the races.”

The youth of the Dowager Viscountess was anything but kind to her. She was not born into a wealthy family, rather to two hard-working parents who were rarely home. School was not an option either as someone had to stay and take care of the home and younglings. Being the oldest out of the litter made the pressure fall on Ireum’s tiny shoulders. There was more to her than just red lipstick and monochromic dresses. Behind the facade of a powerful and cunning woman stood a child yearning for a life free of labour and poverty. She found solace in the fact that her three children were born with golden spoons in their little fists. 

The universe was driving a hard bargain, but Ireum was willing to ignore the bad memories for as long as her children had everything they wished for. What she was not reluctant to do, however, was shape them into responsible adults willing to stand their ground. Perhaps it could explain why she was not coaxing you into spilling the many concerns swirling in your mind. She believed you were mature enough to voice your thoughts and feelings without anyone prodding from the outside. It was a slow process, but you were going to learn. Ireum was determined to see it through. No one asked eight-year-old Ireum of her feelings or concerns, she was her own shield and sword, fighting for her yearnings. Possessing a golden spoon or not, you were not going to fall into the tragic fate of being pushed around, let alone by your future partner.

“That does sound lovely, Mother. I am quite tired, is it alright if I tune in for the night?”

Ireum was not oblivious to your feigned fatigue, but out of the two, she was the better actress and reciprocated a smile warm enough to melt combs of honey.

“Yes, darling, you go right ahead.”

You did not hate the possibility of His Gracce being one of the many suitors asking for your hand in marriage. It would be outright foolish of you. Seonghwa was everything a lady searched for in a man. Handsome, compassionate, rich…

If the tales were true, of course. You had not exchanged more than a handful of words on the night of his ball to make that conclusion on your own, but even with all those alluring characteristics and good attributes, the Duke of Beaumonte was not calling to you as a midnight craving of strawberries and sugarcubes you needed or would succumb to death in your sleep. He was in the bowl along with the remaining fruit sold on the market of London, squashed between the apples and bananas everyone could reach, but did not look nearly as sweet or enticing as the passionfruit buried beneath. However, it did not matter as you would take the bite of the bland fruit, whether it be against your wishes or not, and return to the passionfruit another day. Perhaps, if you tasted the dull fruit enough times, it would suit your taste buds far better than the sweet one, and eventually bury any and all cravings of it.

The unexpected noise of knuckles knocking against your bedroom door jolted you back to the presence despite not being louder than the patting feet of a baby duck. The door opened gently as your voice reached the other side granting them entry. 

“You are still awake.”

You found Yunho’s eyes through your vanity mirror. “Yes. I am getting ready for bed.”

“Ah,” he replied in understanding and leaned against one of the posters on your bed, the tree sturdy enough to take his whole weight.

A silence lay over the room as a coverlet was spread over your bed and was interrupted every now and then by you adjusting beauty trinkets on your desk. You could sense the question lurking in the dark corners of your poorly lit room, the lantern to your right doing little to illuminate the space. Yunho watched you remove makeup with a cold cream gifted by Ireum, then continue with your night routine of removing bobby pins from your hair and neatly braiding it. You could only hold off on the conversation for so long until you ran out of things to do.

“If I ask, will you answer honestly?”

“I do not quite understand what you mean, Brother.”

“I am not Mother to pretend your sullen face was caused by the corn on your platter.”

You set the hairbrush down a tad bit harsher than intended and pushed away from the table, walked past Yunho with featherlight steps and slipped beneath your covers. “It is true I am not fond of corn…”

“Do you truly suppose I shall take your words to heart?” He asked and turned around with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“There is nothing wrong, Brother. I was simply tired from a long day of entertaining callers. You shall see, tomorrow I will return to my ordinary self again.”

The Jeong siblings were quite different from one another, sharing genetics or not. Wooyoung knew of no fear speaking his mind. Everyone in a close vicinity of him would be aware of his demeanor whether it was happiness, anger or sadness. The boy did little to hide it too. The crinkle of his eyes or the frown on his face was a quick giveaway of what the next rant of feelings would be about.

On the other side of the coin was Yunho. His many years of being a viscount shaped him into full control of his body. The facial expressions he made at balls and events could not be trusted, but nonetheless fooled all the right people. Unless Yunho wanted you to know about his inner turmoil, you would not get a glimpse of it. 

The youngest of the bunch was nowhere in between. You mastered the art of bottling up. Reflecting other’s emotions was an easier way to hide your own, besides it was worth it to see the smile on their faces. Turning with the wind and following the path of others spared you lectures and time of pointless arguing. Sacrificing your own thoughts and feelings for the sake of others’ felt rewarding in a way as you did not bring a cloud of disappointment over your family. Smiling and nodding like the perfect lady did its magic, and who were you to complain?

Yunho held back from sighing at your passiveness. It did irk him that you still kept your feelings beneath lock and key. He was your brother for heaven’s sake! If he was not the one you turned to with all your troubles and concerns, who was? 

The cloak of responsibility befell him the day Wooyoung was delivered in the bed of his parents' master bedroom. Six-year-old Yunho could feel the shift as an additional member was brought to their family of three. The Jeongs were already struggling to make ends meet and Yunho could not understand how a second child would make their life easier. Another mouth to feed, another body to keep warm. It took him weeks to grow accustomed to the baby wrapped in linen with demands of being cradled by Ireum day and night. Yunho hated Wooyoung for several reasons. For making their lives harder, having their parents stay up late at night while twelve hour shifts waited on them the day after, being fussy over the selected food they were ratioed and for always crying. 

A late night when the wind released its anger on London and the sun was afraid to appear, little Wooyoung had gotten sick with fever which refused to go down. Ireum and late Jongsu were helpless, desperately placing a wet rag over his tiny forehead and singing every lullaby passed down from generations to calm the crying babe, but it did nothing. Wooyoung split the heaven into two and would not stop his wailing until he was fever free. It was a shame to lose their second born not even a year into his life and Yunho, not having a job nor enough pennies to buy medicine, marched out of the door, hat and trenchcoat a miss while on a hunt for the stupid cure.

It was the same protective spark he felt at the age of fourteen, when Ireum and the Late Viscount Lee introduced their respective offsprings to each other. When your tiny head peeked from around your father’s leg, curious eyes stared up at Yunho who was even taller than your best friend.

Seven years later and Yunho vowed to keep you safe from harm as he did with Wooyoung all those years ago and still counting. It was a difficult promise to keep as you were going against everything he worked for. Yunho did not wish for you to please him by playing along to his supposed wants and needs. He would first feel a sense of accomplishment when you could give up half of the strain by opening up what was truly gnawing at the back of your head. It was eating him from the inside, but nothing would change by forcing you to open up.

So, Yunho yielded for the time being and returned to his chamber. 

The piano occupying the center of the drawing room was bought by Viscount and Viscountess Song, as every other instrument, in hopes of their son taking the path of music. It was yet another point added to their long list of disappointments. Mingi had in fact not touched the piano, let alone pursued music. The instruments were as new and clean as the day they were carried into the building and left to decay in their stands. It could not be compared to the grandeur of His Grace’s estate, but it was still impressive, especially to someone who did not have a music room or any instruments to begin with. 

“What did you tell Lady Lee?” Mingi asked as he watched you pace back and forth from his seat on the piano stool. 

You arrived at the Song estate a good hour earlier than you originally planned, just to prepare for your first lesson with Hongjoong. The maids under the Songs’ care set up marvellous biscuits and fruits on a silver platter accompanied by a pitcher full of water. Everything from the smallest of details had to be in perfect condition. You wanted Hongjoong to be aware of how important these lessons were for you and if that was by stuffing him full of dessert, then so be it.

Sweets and drinks were not the only thing you put a lot of thought behind. A variety of dresses filled your wardrobe, yet you spent more time nitpicking than choosing which one would suit you the best. Your maids were of no help at all as they deemed every dress perfect, which was true considering they were made for your very figure and appearance. In the end, you settled on a light pink gown. Its high waistline stopping just under the bust and flowing down in a long skirt. The sleeves were made of an almost translucent pink fabric with an exquisite embroidery pattern of a wildflower. The silk garment reached to your ankles with an added layer of the translucent fabric. It was beyond beautiful.

“I simply told her I had an appointment in town and would bring Franscesca.”

“Who is Franscesca?” Mingi reached for a powdery biscuit, but you gently slapped his hand away. 

“My lady’s maid.”

Feigning hurt, he pouted and cradled his hand to his chest. Noticing you were not indulging in his childish behaviour, he threw another question at you.

“And where is this Franscesca now?”

“She is running errands, of course.”

“...Have you ever been told you are one sly lady?”

A devious smile pulled at the corners of your mouth. You exaggeratedly pinched the silky fabric of your dress between your thumbs and pointer fingers, giving Mingi a slow bow. 

“Why, thank you kind sir.”

Deja-vu, Vitamin String Quartet, 0:00-0:40

He barked out a laugh, crumbs and chocolate bits falling onto his pristine black suit as his mouth gaped wide. You launched yourself onto the vacant seat beside him on the plush sofa as your belly laughter filled the spacious drawing room. Minutes later you lay limp on the furniture, heads thrown back against the headrests and arms close to the side of your bodies.

“Oh, I am going to miss this dearly,” you admitted as the gleeful sounds subdued to a silence cast in a yellow hue. Light puffs of air slipped through your lips as you recovered from the tummy aches as a result of your laughing session.

“What do you mean?” 

“This,” you beckoned to your disheveled states with a wave of your hand, “will all disappear when we both marry.” 

Your gaze was set on the spotless ceiling, but you could still feel the burn of Mingi staring holes in the side of your head. His dark brown eyes traveled down the slope of your nose and up your cheek, admiring the somber look of defeat and acceptance. He averted his attention to the same blank canvas and heaved a sigh as his fingers weaved together across his abdomen.

“I believe the Song bloodline will reach no farther than my grave.”

You glanced in his direction and pressed your lips in a thin line. No words could bring Mingi to hope for a marriage built on love. Instead, you brushed your pinky against his clad elbow. A brief, but powerful gesture to ground him in his lonely thoughts. To be the light slipping through the cracks of the dark tunnel he, more often than not, found himself in. 

“Then I dare argue it will be put to rest in the softest grave of all the Songs.”

A comfortable silence filled the room, yet the look on Mingi’s face as your eyes met in a gentle clash was louder than the heavens on a thunderous day. One corner of his mouth was tightly pulled at by an invisible force, creating something akin to a loop-sided smile that did not quite reach his eyes. If only you were not you, he thought and exhaled a puff of defeat. Mingi would never bring himself to say the words out in the open, for even the walls had ears.

“It is truly unfair I do not…”

The sentence ended abruptly like a burning candle being deprived of oxygen and your brows knit in worry. As you moved to sit upright and cast more attention to Mingi’s mind marred with deep thoughts, the grand doors of the drawing room flew up and a member of the staff stepped through, not batting an eye at the lack of proper space between you.

“A visitor for Mister Song.”

Loud footsteps echoed from the long hall outside and Mingi, with little to no urgency in his bones, stood up as you followed suit. The image of witnessing your best friend in distress refused to leave your mind, yet you were forced to push it further back, vowing to yourself to resume the conversation from where you left off after the awaited guest had taken his leave.

An orange hue only making its presence known during the golden hour of a day illuminated the room as Hongjoong gracefully emerged through the open doors. It did not matter that his hair was rather rowdy and unkept, carelessly combed through with his fingers, Mister Kim appeared as handsome as ever. In fact, you were far too occupied with admiring his face to even notice the new suit tailored to his precise measurements. The color, a shade only found in the most respected vineyard of the country, suited his honey complexion and you could barely keep your lips from curving obnoxiously. To ground yourself, you intertwined your fingers behind your back and nearly stumbled over your own feet from shifting too much.

“Mister Song,” Hongjoong acknowledged with a curt nod and then averted his gaze to you, his voice dropping in a softer octave. “Miss Lee.”

“Mister Kim, we are delighted by your presence. Please, I insist, take a seat.” You gestured toward the sofa opposite of you and the guest complied.

It was questionable to witness your relaxed posture in the property of another family, to whom you had no romantic pursuits with, but Hongjoong was in no position to ask questions. He was merely there for business, not to pry his nose in other people's.

“It is a very welcoming home you have.” 

The compliment was directed at Mingi, who barely acknowledged the man. A simple grunt vibrated from the depths of his throat as a stary, almost forlorn look, dimmed his usually bright eyes. 

“If you will excuse me, Miss Lee, Mister Kim, I have some important business to attend to. Do not let my absence trouble you. I shall be in the study above should you require my presence.”

Mingi did not wait a second too long before taking his leave, not sparing either of his guests a fleeting glance. The worry pulled at you from within and your fingers itched to latch onto his suit, to give it a little nudge and gently pry answers out of him. Yet you were well versed with how Mingi functioned. The gentle giant did not work well under pressure and would sooner or later come to you with the weights pushed onto his shoulders. He always did, and you welcomed him with open arms and soothing words every single time.

The soft clear of someone’s throat burst the bubble of worry wrapped around you. Hongjoong sheepishly smiled and quickly threw glances between you and the piano waiting to be used.

“Shall we?”

A weak smile took over your gloomy features. “Of course.”

A sense of deja-vu washed over you from your first encounter dating back to the first ball of the season. Elbows brushing and thighs touching with the sweet melody produced from Hongjoong’s talented fingers whisking you to a far away land. It was a magical evening and it had nothing to do with the Duke’s grand investments in hosting the perfect ball of the season. The scene was similar to then except for the bright sky and sun casting a boiling glow over London. 

Hongjoong suddenly pressed down on the piano keys, filling the room with a light note that eventually simmered to silence, but did not last long.

“Considering you wish to become familiar with the pianoforte again, Miss Lee, I have composed a selection of melodies that I trust shall be simple to master.”

It should have been the first indication that these lessons would be far from simple and you were truly foolish to believe a talented young man the kinds of Hongjoong could differentiate between ‘simple’ and ‘elementary tier’. You released a nervous breath and feigned a smile. A pinching feel of embarrassment clung to your cheeks at the thought of admitting it was a too perplexing melody for you to learn. Hongjoong, being overly observant, noticed your sudden unease and lifted his hands off the keyboard, shifting his torso to get a better view of your face.

“Perhaps I was a bit eager to begin our lessons to even reconsider the difference between my perception of simple and yours.”

Your already bruised confidence shriveled even more and you lowered your head further, like a child scolded for stealing a meringue first thing in the morning. Being subdued to an aloof and silly girl, whether people expressed it to your face or made alluding remarks, was not a strange occurrence. It burned your heart and choked up your windpipe, but you learned to ignore it. To push their harmful words beneath boiling water and just appreciate the bubbling sounds of nothing. However, you could not unhear the malicious intent slipping through Hongjoong’s statement and forming into jaded insults. 

Foolish. Naive. Tease. Emotional. Ditzy. Prude. Immature. Eager–

“It would be for the best that we revive your memory. To gain a clearer understanding of what you do remember and what you have… forgotten so to say.”

Useless. Bad. Silly. Easy. Obtuse. Absurd. Ineligible–

The voice dwindled out at the featherly touch of three fingers nudging your shoulder and you startled in your seat making the hand withdraw at instance. Vibrations of static pierced your shoulder and coursed down your spine. You wondered if he felt the heat venture through his fingertips and spread to the rest of his body. 

Facing the man who occupied your mind for the last couple of nights, your heart squeezed at the worry etched into his features. Brows drawn together and eyes darting across your face while his perfectly shaped lips were pressed in a tight line. Hongjoong appeared ethereal in every light, you realized, and perhaps this agreement was more than you could handle. Men from far away traveled to catch a glimpse of you, if the odds were in their favour maybe even exchange a couple of words. Men with big businesses to their names and bathtubs filled with gold did not spark your interest in the least, yet a man you were certain was of no such fortune made your heart jump and twirl by a mere glance.

“Are you… well?”

“My apologies, Mister Kim! Oh, how– how rude of me. I assure you, all is well. I have not been graced with a restful slumber.”

“Magnolia,” coughed Hongjoong and looked away, randomly pressing down on the piano. “Magnolia tea serves as a fine remedy for those who suffer from sleeping troubles.”

“I am afraid I have never heard of such tea before.”

“Then… Then I shall fetch you some on my next visit.” 

You paused and Hongjoong cast his attention back on you at the lack of response. His eyes widened and tongue ran dry as he realized how presumptuous it sounded. A pink dust sprinkled across his cheeks and ears burned from embarrassment, a feeling he rarely experienced, but before Hongjoong could explain himself and apologize, your mellow voice cut through the silence.

“That would be lovely and highly appreciated, Mister Kim.”

The blush did not die down. On the contrary, it increased in hue and burned hotter at the sight of the polite smile gracing your glowing face. Hongjoong understood why His Grace was invested in you. Not only were you beautiful, but warm hearted and kind. A trait most of the  members of high society lacked and something Hongjoong could attest for.

The hour you set off for piano lessons passed on a whim as the grandfather clock chimed four in the afternoon, putting an end to your secret gathering. Hongjoong scooted further up the piano stool and kissed the top of his teeth. 

Dancing Queen, Spark, 0:15-1:30

“I must admit, Miss Lee. You are an extraordinary pupil.”

The inside of your bottom lip caught between your teeth to keep them from curling at the praise. You managed to express your gratefulness in a timid, yet clear tone. However, your face and neck were not safe from the blistering heat attacking your exposed skin. 

“It is merely due to the presence of my gifted instructor.”

“Even the most gifted pianist alive could not teach the pure talent you possess, Miss Lee.” 

This time you could not hide your smile. Contagious as the plague, Hongjoong’s own mouth curved upwards and his eyes creased as if being blinded by the sun. The skin on his nose scrunched in glee and you desperately wished for the most famous artist in all of London to capture the beautiful sight in a painting that would be nothing short of mesmerizing. To hear another person, another man, acknowledge your artistry, mended the tarnished part of your soul which had only felt stinging slaps and pinches of your closest folks. Yet Hongjoong, like Mingi, entered your life with a caress and amidst all the hurt, you could pinpoint a touch of warmth. 

It tingled your chest in the form of a hand gently cupping your heart and you found yourself imagining Hongjoong standing in the place of your many suitors. A rather incredulous thought that you could not shake away and did not wish to dispose of. The next sentence you spoke into existence could be the very reason Yunho decides to ship you off to the closest mainland with the intent to keep you in solitude for all of eternity.

“Will you attend… the horse race set to take place in a few weeks’ time?”

He was not. He swore on his first born child that he would not attend the godforsaken horse race. It was simple, Hongjoong thought. Stare both Choi cousins in the face and outright refuse to come. They could not force him no matter the amount of muscles formed to perfection on their hunk of bodies. Little did he know that a brief look in your enchanting eyes, glassy with hope, would be enough for him to bend his morals. 

“It is the most sought out event of the month, correct?”

“Indeed, it is! Although, I am convinced everyone is attending in hopes of catching a glimpse of His Grace.” 

You did not intend for your tone to fall into a thin line, deprived of its usual excitement, and Hongjoong did not intend for the sour taste of lemons to scrape the insides of his mouth. 

“Might I anticipate… the pleasure of seeking out your presence there? Or shall your undivided attention be entirely devoted to His Grace?”

“No! Oh, I–Uh, I mean,” you smacked your lips together. “It would be quite rude of me to solely enjoy the company of His Grace…”

Hongjoong hastily rose from his seat. “Then it is settled. I shall take my leave now, Miss Lee, but until then…” He slowly retrieved a neatly tied scroll from the inside of his suit and held it out for you to take. 

Confused, yet intrigued, you accepted the paper. 

“Pray tell, what is this?”

Before you could untie the red string, Hongjoong wrapped his hand around yours. His fingers, nimble but determined, enclosed over yours and kept them in place. The touch was intoxicating, making the blood beneath your skin sizzle. All thoughts evaporated into air and the sole thing occupying your every being was the gentle caress of Hongjoong’s thumb against yours. The action was so innocent and yet pulled your mind into a haze of desire.

“Mister Kim–”

The words got caught in your throat as Hongjoong slid his fingers further down your hand, capturing your own fingers in his hold. His thumb resting on the space between your middle- and ring finger. The unbroken art of eye contact settled over your chest and did not let up, and you did not wish for it either. Staring into the windows of Hongjoong’s soul was like enjoying freshly picked strawberries alongside a cup of the richest brewed cocoa you could find in all of London. The real sweet treat, however, was feeling Hongjoong’s plush lips gently press against the bone of your knuckles, yet not once straying from your wide eyed look.

“Practice til your heart's content, Miss Lee. I eagerly anticipate our next coming lesson and expect you to master that composition.”

That marked the end of your first meeting and Hongjoong took his leave, politely nodding to the butler and maids seeing him on his way out. What would be viewed as rude by any other people of High Society, leaving a debutante in a state of clear frenzy, you deemed respectful of him. You would rather not be in the eye of a handsome gentleman whilst your tongue looped in on itself and your lungs vacant of air make out a single coherent sentence. Hongjoong did not leave to keep your dignity intact. The man ran his hand through his hair and, in that gentle and respectful voice of his, asked the carriage driver to make a quick stop by the Choi estate.

It seemed that the trio would need new suits for the horse race after all.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[runningincircl3s]

any fic recommendations?

yes!! i've been thinking about making a fic recommendations post for a while now, sometimes when i find a fic i love i'll save it to my notes app so i'll need to go through it and find them all!! i'm kind of annoyed that recently i've been spending most of my free time writing so i've not had any time to read some new stories i've seen :( but here’s a super quick list of my favourite fics and writers!

nutmeg by @dragoncopper has a very special place in my heart <3 i get super excited when i see new chapters have been posted!! fridays are my favourite day of the week and i always make sure i find time to read :)

literally anything @collapsedglasshouses has ever written is amazing and i love it <33 here's her masterlist CHECK IT OUT!!

i am always thinking about firefighter!noah... and frat boy noah... and nerd noah... and everything else @flowery-mess has written <3

i started reading to build a family by @silent-stories but i've not found the time to finish it just yet :( but it's so good!! it's on my tbr with fresh bruises and i'm so excited i'm going to binge read them when i have the time <3

also @fadingintothegrey has written some of my favourite fics!!! i especially loove the best friend noah stories so so much he has a special place in my heart!! <3

[THIS WAS ONLY A SHORT LIST OF THE FICS I COULD THINK OF RIGHT NOW, THERE’S GONNA BE MORE IN A LONGER FIC REC POST!!]