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cressidagrey · 2 days ago

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Such A Mystery - Part 11

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 11 of 12!

Chapter 11

His sister's screams were bloodcurdling.

Charles had known that birth was a painful, messy affair, that it was never easy, but actually hearing his sister’s very real, very painful screams from the room beyond was a truly eye-opening experience. He didn’t know how women could survive this, frankly.

Arthur looked green around the gills, not helped by the white bandage on his forehead…which apparently had been the result of him fainting and being taken down by the corner of a hospital bed.

"I am never having kids," Arthur said, swallowing heavily.

"I am rethinking my family planning as well," Lorenzo said weakly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Charlotte go through that pain."

Arthur grimaced as another scream came ringing out from the room. “I think I am scheduling a vasectomy tomorrow,” he said faintly. “This absolutely confirms it as a good life decision for me.”

"I think that's the concussion talking," Charles tried to assure his brother, as another scream rang out.

On second thought…maybe Arthur was onto something.

And just at that moment, Colette's scream suddenly broke off. They froze—all of them.

Absolute silence rang through the room. Charles was afraid to even breathe. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of the door, and that terrified him. Everything had been going well so far, hadn't it?

And then a cry rang out.

A baby’s cry: shrill, a little indignant.

All three men let out their collective breaths in a sigh of pure relief.

The whole room was silent for a moment, as they processed the fact that their sister and her baby were alright.

“Oh, thank god,” Lorenzo said feebly. “I thought something awful had happened.”

“No kidding,” Arthur agreed. He sagged back against the wall behind him, his skin regaining a proper colour again, instead of the sickly green it had been moments before.

Charles leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes for a brief second. It was over. Everything had gone alright.

Colette and her baby were both going to be okay.

"We are uncles now," Arthur said suddenly.

A beat of surprise. And then:

“Oh god, we are, aren’t we?” Lorenzo said.

“We’re uncles,” Arthur repeated a slightly shell-shocked look on his face.

Charles couldn’t help it. A smile broke out over his face, a very real, utterly ridiculous one that he didn’t have the energy to hold back. “We are, aren’t we?” he repeated Enzo’s words.

“This is absolutely insane!” Arthur said, a grin creeping over his face. “We’re going to be the coolest uncles ever.”

“I thought kids are overrated?” Lorenzo pointed out wryly.

“The most overrated,” Arthur insisted. “But I’m going to spoil our niece or nephew absolutely rotten.”

It took a little while longer, but finally, the door opened, revealing Max. He looked…exhausted. Absolutely beat. There were dark circles under his eyes…but a look of relief was on his face like Charles had never seen on his friend before. And yet, Max was grinning.

Looking happier than ever.

“Max,” Charles said, a little hoarsely. He wanted to ask how they were, he wanted to ask about the baby, he wanted to ask if Coco was alright. But all he could get out was Max’s name, his voice too thick.

"Come meet your niece," Max said simply.

He said the word ‘niece’ like it was the best thing in the world, and it made Charles smile. He straightened up, following Max into the room, Arthur and Lorenzo trailing behind him.

Coco was curled up in her bed, her hair messy, her face pale, but she was smiling, a weak little smile tinged with exhaustion but so very, very happy. And cradled against her chest was the baby, wrapped snugly in a little pink blanket.

Charles just sort of stopped dead in the midst of the room. Seeing his sister with her baby in her arms… it was like his brain had stopped functioning in the space of a moment.

All three brothers were silent for a long moment, just taking in the sight of them.

Charles felt a lump rise in his throat,and swallowed heavily.

Lorenzo was biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. And Arthur was absolutely silent, all of the usual sass gone from his expression.

It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, as they all just stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, just looking.

Finally, Coco looked up at them, and her smile widened faintly. “Well?” she asked. "Cha, don’t you want to hold your niece?"

His heart skipped, and he managed to pull himself forward so he could sit down on the bed next to her. “I get to hold her?” he asked, just to be certain.

"Of course, you do," Coco told him softly. "Here you go."

Charles could hardly believe it as Colette gently eased the baby into his arms, carefully supporting her head. And suddenly he was holding her, his niece, this brand new little life, in all of her tiny, delicate, vulnerable little glory, bundled up in a soft pink blanket.

"She's perfect," he said softly, swallowing.

She was so…fragile, in his hands. He hadn’t expected her to be that small, somehow. Charles smiled faintly, running his fingers gently over her hair. Her eyes were closed, and one tiny fist was poking out of the blanket.

"Does she have a name yet?" he asked his sister.

"I get to pick," Colette told him with a grin. "Given that Max named the cats after Monaco's nightlife."

Charles had to admit that was a fair point.

“What, you aren’t going to let Max name your daughter La Rascasse?” he teased Coco who just rolled her eyes. "What have you come up with?" he asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from his niece to look at his sister.

"If she was a boy, I would have named him Emilian Hervé after Papa," Colette said softly. "Sadly that doesn't work for a girl."

Charles smiled faintly at the mention of their father. Their father would have doted on this baby, he was certain. He would have spoiled her absolutely rotten.

"So I figured… somebody else needed to give their name for her," Coco continued. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course, I don't mind," Charles assured her at once. Why should he? "Whose name did you use?" he wondered.

"Yours, you idiot, Cha," Coco told him, her voice soft. "Charlene Victoria Verstappen. We'll call her Charlie for short."

"Oh my god," Max's sister breathed somewhere behind him. "You.."

But Charles could only stare at his sister…could only feel the lump rise in his throat again. He swallowed hard. “You named her after me?” he asked with a waver in his voice, feeling like his heart might just explode in his chest.

"Of course, I did," Colette said softly. "You're my twin brother, why wouldn't I name my baby girl after you?"

Charles couldn't find any words to answer that with. He couldn't find any words at all. His eyes stung, and he couldn't look at her for fear he might cry. He looked down at the baby. His…god, his niece that was named after him.

He gently ran his fingers over her hair again, marvelling at her tiny, perfect little body. "Hello, Charlie," he said softly, his voice a little choked.

The baby didn't even stir, and Charles smiled, shifting slightly to support her more securely. He couldn't believe that his sister had done this, that she had named her baby girl after him. It made his heart feel like it was fit to burst straight out of his chest, made him try to blink back tears and fail horribly.

"Congratulations, you've made Charles cry," Lorenzo said from somewhere behind him, sounding a little choked himself.

Charles let out a noise that was half-laughing, half-crying as his brothers joined him at his side. "Shut up," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Not a chance," Arthur said as he squeezed in next to him to get a better look at the baby. Lorenzo joined him, peering down at the baby in Charles' arms with a strangely soft expression on his face.

"You gave her my name too," Victoria said weakly. Charles looked up at Max’s sister, not knowing what to say. It had sounded so obvious, so natural to hear Colette say it, that Charles had completely forgotten that Victoria shared the same name.

But she did.

"A sibling for each of us," Colette said simply. "Sorry, Enzo, Arthur. Maybe next time.”

“Nah, Arthurelle is a horrible name,” Arthur responded. “Totally see why you went for Charlene.”

Colette laughed, but it was a very weak, exhausted laugh. Charles couldn’t blame her. She must be absolutely wrung out.

And still as he looked at her...as her eyes met his, he could feel how happy his sister. How utterly in love she was with her daughter. How this was everything Colette had ever wanted, and it was right there.

"I am never driving you to the hospital again though, just so you know," Arthur said. “That cost me at least 30 years of my life.”

"But you did so well," Colette teased their younger brother. "Thank you for that, ma petite puce."

Arthur grimaced faintly, but he looked too tired and happy to actually bite back. Charles smiled faintly at all of them in turn.

Charles‘ eyes snagged on their mother.

"Well, Grand-Mère," he teased her. "How does it feel?"

For a long moment, their mother simply looked at the baby in Charles’ arms with an unreadable expression on her face. And then her expression slowly shifted into a smile. A true smile. A happy, proud Grandma smile.

“Your father would be so proud of you all.”

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cryptwrites · 2 days ago

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It started as a joke.

A few of us, sitting around a cheap card table in my crumbling apartment, brainstorming ways to pay rent without actually working. The scam was simple: create a fake religion, prey on the gullible, and rake in some easy cash.

We called it The Order of Cythra, a name pulled out of thin air by my roommate, Toby, who thought it sounded “cryptic and legit.” We scribbled down some nonsense about Cythra being the god of renewal and hidden wisdom, created a website, and bought some dollar-store candles for the “rituals.”

At first, it was harmless fun. A few Reddit posts here, some vague TikToks there, and suddenly we had people donating. Not much—just twenty bucks here and there—but enough to cover bills and groceries.

Then things got... strange.

It started with the emails. Testimonials flooded our inbox from people claiming Cythra had spoken to them in dreams. A woman wrote about how her chronic migraines disappeared after chanting one of our made-up prayers. Another claimed their barren garden had suddenly burst into bloom.

We laughed it off at first. Toby even joked that we should hire a PR agent.

But then the dreams started.

It was always the same. I stood in a vast, desolate wasteland beneath a broiling, blood-red sky. A towering figure loomed in the distance, its body shifting between forms—human, deer, shadow. Its voice echoed in my head, not in words, but in feelings: hunger, anger, and something worse.

One night, I woke up to find the word Cythra carved into my arm, not by my own hand but by something else. I confronted Toby and the others, but their faces were pale. They were worried, like I had done something to them.

We tried to shut it down. Deleted the website, pulled down the TikToks, and stopped all donations. But the followers didn’t go away. If anything, they grew more fervent. They showed up at my apartment, chanting in unison, their eyes glassy and strange. They called me High Priest.

Then the first miracle happened.

One of the followers, a man in his sixties, collapsed on my doorstep during one of their late-night vigils. His heart had stopped. I panicked and reached out to him instinctively, yelling for someone to call 911. The moment my hand touched his chest, I felt a searing heat shoot through my arm. His body jolted, and his eyes snapped open.

The followers fell to their knees.

I slammed the door, trembling, my palm still burning. When I looked, there was a black symbol etched into my skin—a sigil I’d never seen before but somehow understood.

Cythra was real.

The days that followed were a blur. The followers proclaimed me as their leader, and no matter how much I tried to resist, they wouldn’t leave me alone. More people came to me for healing, and each time, the sigil on my palm burned brighter. I didn’t know what I was doing, but it always worked. Broken bones knit together. Tumors withered away. One woman even claimed her blind son could see again.

But with every miracle, I felt a piece of myself slipping away.

The dreams became more vivid. Cythra spoke now, its voice a low rumble that made my teeth ache. It demanded more worshippers, more faith, more sacrifices.

One night, I woke to find Toby standing over my bed, a knife in his hand and a vacant look in his eyes. He muttered something about “offering blood to Cythra.” I fought him off, but he slit his own throat before I could stop him. The followers found his body the next morning and cheered.

They said his death would “bring Cythra fully into our world.”

I tried to run. Packed a bag and fled to the nearest bus station. But as soon as I stepped outside, I saw them— hundreds of followers, all chanting in unison, their faces lit by the flickering of candles. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur.

The ground beneath their feet began to crack.

The last thing I remember before everything went black was the sky splitting open, and a monstrous, shifting form descending from the heavens.

Now I sit on a blackened throne in a temple I never built, my body barely my own. The sigil on my palm has spread, covering my arms, chest, and face. I can no longer close my eyes without seeing its form, nor speak without its words spilling from my mouth like black, molded bile.

I am the High Priest of Cythra, a forgotten god reborn through my foolishness.

And I know, deep down, that when it is finished with this world, it will consume me too.

You started a scam religion for a quick buck. You begin to panic when your fake god was actually a real forgotten one awakened from new worshippers, declared you it's high priest, and granted you the power of healing.

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration

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songbirdseung · 16 hours ago

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walk home / nishimura riki

did you think you'd get a potential boyfriend on your way to the convenience store during one of your many midnight walks?

you had walked these streets every day for the past four years, each step blending into the next, creating a rhythm of routine. the same worn pavements, familiar storefronts, and repetitive decorations lined your path. nothing out of the ordinary ever caught your attention—just the usual, mundane occurrences that seemed to blur together. each day felt like a carbon copy of the last, a predictable cycle you had grown accustomed to.

but today, something unexpected happened.

as you made your way down the street, lost in your thoughts, a sudden burst of energy interrupted your mental drift. out of nowhere, a small, fluffy dog came dashing toward you, its tail wagging furiously, eyes alight with excitement. the little pup stopped at your feet, looking up at you with an expression of pure joy, as if you were its long-lost best friend. taken aback, you crouched down to greet the enthusiastic furball, your heart instantly warming at the sight.

"well, aren’t you a friendly one," you murmured, scratching behind the dog’s ears. the pup leaned into your touch, clearly enjoying the attention.

before you could wonder where its owner was, a voice called out from behind, slightly breathless. "bisco! there you are!" the voice exclaimed. you looked up to see a young man jogging toward you, his face flushed from exertion, strands of dark hair falling into his eyes.

"i’m so sorry about him," he said, stopping a few steps away. "bisco usually doesn’t just run up to strangers like this."

that’s how you met riki—and his dog, bisco.

you remembered the rush of emotions you felt when you first saw him. he was gorgeous, with a striking yet approachable face, his tall frame accentuated by his confident stride. despite his edgy clothing style, there was a softness to his demeanor that made him seem approachable and, frankly, adorable.

"hi," he said, still catching his breath. "i really apologize. bisco can be a little... unpredictable sometimes."

"it’s okay," you replied with a smile, still petting the dog. "bisco, huh? that’s a cute name."

riki chuckled, a sound that made your heart flutter. "thanks. he’s named after my favorite snack."

you laughed softly. "well, bisco seems to like me. he ran straight over."

"i don’t blame him," riki said, his lips quirking into a shy smile. "he has good taste."

there was a beat of comfortable silence, bisco happily wagging his tail between you. you felt a warmth spreading through your chest, a strange but pleasant sensation, as if something meaningful had just begun.

"so... do you walk bisco around here often?" you asked, hoping to keep the conversation going.

"yeah, we live just a few blocks away. this is his favorite route," riki replied, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. "what about you?"

"same. i walk this way almost every day. funny we haven’t crossed paths until now."

"guess bisco was determined to change that today," riki said, glancing down at his dog with affection.

"looks like it," you agreed, laughing softly. "maybe he’s trying to set us up."

riki’s eyes twinkled with amusement. "if he is, he’s doing a great job."

you continued chatting, the conversation flowing easily despite having just met. bisco occasionally tugged at his leash, sniffing around and wagging his tail, oblivious to the new connection forming above him. with each passing minute, the once-familiar street seemed to transform. what had always been a mundane path now felt filled with possibility and excitement, all because of this chance encounter.

"maybe we should let bisco choose our routes more often," riki said, his tone light but his eyes holding a deeper interest.

"maybe we should," you replied, feeling a smile stretch across your face.

as the two of you stood there, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. the once-ordinary day had turned into something extraordinary, thanks to a playful pup.

"hey," riki’s voice gently pulled you back to reality. you blinked a few times, refocusing on the present. he was standing in front of you, his head tilted slightly, an amused grin tugging at his lips. "you okay there? you zoned out for a second."

"oh, sorry," you said, feeling a bit flustered. "i was just... thinking."

"about the first time we met?" he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "you had that same dreamy look on your face."

you laughed, trying to hide your embarrassment. "yeah, you caught me. i was thinking about bisco running up to me and how awkward you were."

"hey!" riki protested with a mock pout, crossing his arms. "i wasn’t that awkward."

"you totally were," you teased, nudging his arm. "but it was cute."

riki shook his head, chuckling softly. "well, if it got us here, i guess a little awkwardness was worth it." he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle and familiar.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #riki #nishimura riki #enhypen riki #riki x reader #enhypen niki #ni ki #riki nishimura #ni ki imagines #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #ni ki fluff

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bonesashesglass · 2 days ago

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God, I’m just so mad and upset and I need to rant for a minute:

I live in Wisconsin, where the last several years winters here have been scarily mild. It’s not uncommon for us to have a mild winter every few years or so, but we’ve been having milder and milder winters for the past several years in a row. Winters here are supposed to be long and snowy. It’s supposed to start snowing in November, sometimes October, and the snow doesn’t melt all the way till April, sometimes early May.

Last year, I felt like we barely even had a winter. There was snow on the ground for maybe two months total, it kept melting and then coming back, which isn’t supposed to happen. The snow will maybe melt after the first couple times, but once you get to December, it’s supposed to stay on the ground until Spring.

Same thing is happening this year. It’ll snow for like two days, stick for maybe one day, and melt. It’ll stay that way for a couple of weeks. It’s January now. The fact that there’s no snow on the ground, in fucking Wisconsin, is alarming. The fact that this has been happening several years in a row now is alarming. I’m seeing it happen right in front of me. We’re all seeing the effects of climate change now, and we’re seeing how it’s directly destroying and harming the planet. We can see it with our own eyes.

I’m thinking about the fires in LA right now. I saw someone talk about how they were alarmed they were getting these kinds of winds in January. (I’m not familiar with LA climate but this person talked about how abnormal it is).

Everything the scientists have been saying about climate change is coming true. It’s happening right in front of us, for the whole world to see. And still, the people responsible, the right-wing politicians and businesspeople that profit off of this just deny deny deny. How can you deny what’s happening right in front of everyone? They are destroying our planet, and they still think they can deny it happening. It just makes me so angry. That a handful of people have the power to destroy our planet and refuse to even acknowledge it. They act like the words “climate change” is liberal propaganda. As if it’s not something we can see happening right before our eyes. They pretend it’s political, they pretend it’s a conspiracy, because they have no other way to justify being against protecting the planet.

One thing that angers me most is that the only thing people seem to do about this is complain on social media. (I know, that’s exactly what I’m doing, but hear me out). LA is burning to the ground because of climate change, and what’s anybody going to do about it? Make a post on Twitter? Maybe write an article about it?

That doesn’t change anything. We need change. We need direct action. It’s only going to get worse if we keep letting companies and governments continue as they are. They cannot continue as they are.

If you haven’t heard of the book How to Blow Up a Pipeline, go look it up. The author talks about a lot of the stuff I want to get at here, but he puts it a lot better.

My hope is that these LA fires will start a movement for stopping climate change. Not just a general shift of opinion like we’ve seen the past few years, but a real movement where people show up in person to do something. We exist in a time where Luigi Mangione is seen as a hero for his actions, I hope people will get inspired to take more direct action in regards to climate change. (That doesn’t mean shooting more people, I’m not advocating for murder, but we need to start taking action beyond just complaining on social media).

I’m going to start researching resources to help myself and others to get more involved with preventing climate change. I hope one day, we’ll have an actual winter in Wisconsin again. To everyone in LA, please please stay safe❤️

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dailynnt · 17 hours ago

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FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘Number of part: 20/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻From the author: Can you imagine that this is the 20th part? 🫣 I remember being shocked when I wrote 10 parts, and now it's 20. 🤭 By the way, this is about the middle of the story. What did you guys think of this part? Let me know in the comments. 🙏🏻 Do you think they'll make up quickly this time? 🤔

⊹ 🫂Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜 Bright times will come and you will be happy, my love 🥺💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @byeolluvher (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 20. House of Cards.

The sensation of cold metal on your lips brings you back to consciousness. But you don't want to open your eyes. What's the point? What will you see when you open your eyes? Shouldn't you stay still until Jungkook comes for you?

Jungkook. That name sounds like a life preserver. Jungkook. Where is he? Why did he let this happen to you? Is he looking for you? Does he know you've been kidnapped? Will he make it before these people do something to you?

The sharp tip of the knife rests against your lips, pressing. But you don't open your eyes. The knife leaves an unpleasant mark on your jaw, on your cheeks.

"Jungkook…That fucking bastard." - You hear it very close and somewhere above your head. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. Now I have the opportunity to take revenge on him by cutting his sweet whore almost to straw." - You feel your heart start to beat fast. It's as if there's a little bird inside your chest begging to be free and ready to smash against the cage just to be free.

Are you afraid of being hurt? Yes. You scared. Will it hurt? Probably yes. You gather your courage and open your eyes. The darkness of the warehouse, lit by only one lamp, created an oppressive atmosphere. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sound of water drops falling on a metal surface. Your heart was pounding so loudly that it seemed to drown out even this sound.

A man stood in front of you, tall and stout, with rough features and a sparse beard. His eyes burned with hatred, and in his hands he was clutching a knife that looked like it was used to freshly cut the carcasses of dead animals.

Meeting his hateful glare in his eyes, you felt your insides twist into a tight knot. It was painful.

"Oh, finally, our beauty has woken up." - You don't know how long you were unconscious. The last thing you remember is being brought to an abandoned warehouse and this man, who standing in front of your eyes, ordered no one to touch you. Only to watching for you. The conversation stopped and you felt a prick in your neck and lost consciousness.

You were sitting on a chair tied up. Your hands were tied behind your back, aching with pain. Your legs were also tied, and your body was aching. You were freezing. Although you were wearing a coat, it was unbuttoned. Your thigh was visible, and your neckline was also on display. You were uncomfortable with this bastard looking at you, inspecting your body.

The man stretched his cracked lips in a nasty smile, running the tip of the knife across your cheek again, but not cutting the skin. His voice sounded ominous, and you felt every word burning you from the inside.

"Are you waiting for your saviour?" - He asks with venom in his voice. He takes the knife away from your face and touches his watch with the hand he was holding it with. "He's taking his time. You've been here for more than 5 hours." - He looks at you and you realize that it's about 7 am. "Do you think I should have played with you right away?" - He puts the knife to your neck again, this time forcing you to turn your head away.

"What did he do to you?" - You say quietly, trying to stay calm, even though your hands and feet were shaking with fear. You decided to stall for time, to start a conversation and maybe better understand why you were here.

The man was in no hurry to answer you. He ran the knife down from your neck to your chest. He was standing over you, too close, and you were very scared and disgusted at the same time.

"What did he do? Oh, girl, you can't even imagine." - He said with a smile on his lips, ugly and crazy.

"I can, if you tell me." - You say more boldly. The man wiggles his eyebrows sensing your tone.

"I had a company. A legitimate business. Not a big one, but it worked. Logistics, warehouses, transportation. And then he comes along, this dumbass and his gang." - He finally starts to speak. He squeezes the handle of the knife and presses it into the gap between your breasts. "They came to me like predators. They said I 'owed them money'. This bastard told me that Namjun was waiting for his money, but I had paid all the debts I had. I didn't understand why they sent your guy to me." - The man took a step away from you and turned his back as if thinking aloud. "But you know what? It turned out they wanted to get the securities I had. Namjoon thought I should give them to them voluntarily. And when I didn't, they sent your nice boy and he grabbed me and tortured me for eight fucking hours." - The man says and turns to you.

"Did he really do that to you?" - You ask. When he turns to you, you see his face distorted by anger.

"He beat me, cut me, burned my skin, he broke almost every bone in my body. As I was lying on the ground, bleeding, this little psychopath whispered to me that if I didn't voluntarily give them the shares of my company and the papers that Namjoon wanted, they would force me to do it. Do you know how?" - The man turned to you and poked you again with the knife. It was painful, and you felt a drop of blood leak out of your cheek.

"How?" - You asked in a trembling voice.

"He showed me a picture of my little girl, who they watched , and said he would do things to her that would make me not only want to give up the company myself, but that I would sell my soul to the devil." - Your captor growls. You freeze in horror. No. Jungkook would never do that. He would never hurt a little child. This is definitely not Jungkook.

"He would never lay a finger on a little child. You're lying!" - You snapped. A hard blow landed on your lip. It was a fist or a slap, you don't know for sure, but your lip instantly went numb and you felt a metallic taste in your mouth.

"Who gave you the right to raise your voice to me, bitch?" - The kidnapper shouted at you, hitting you painfully. You looked up at him and glared. He grabbed you by the hair, pulling your head back, and came closer. "This piece of shit is going to pay for everything now. Did you think you knew him? You don't. He's a cold-blooded killer, and I'm just lucky to be alive. My wife left me and took our child when she found out I was threatened and that I had given away my company. I lost everything because of him."

"If you hate Jungkook so much, why don't you deal with him personally? Do you haven’t the guts? Do you? Do you think that by grabbing me, you'll pay him back in kind?" - You asked boldly. It was foolish of you. You're not in the best condition to throw out words like that. But that's you, your sharp tongue hasn't gone away.

"What a long tongue you have!" - The kidnapper laughed. "I can easily shorten it for you." - He squeezed your hair tighter.

"Only cowards do that." - You provoked. "You could meet him and talk to him like a man. You could have called your henchmen for help and resolved the old issue. And you kidnapped me, and you think he'll feel bad if you hurt me?" - The man looks at you with contempt. His lips are pressed into a thin line. "You know he'll come and you'll be dead. You could have been smart and taken him by surprise, but you chose to act in a primitive wa..." - You didn't finish speaking because you got hit in the face again. It hurt so much. It woke you up. You shouldn't talk like that, in front of a man who holds a knife and can cut you without hesitation.

"Shut your mouth!" - He snarled. "You have no idea what you're talking about or what you're getting yourself into. I'm going to make him feel what I've been feeling all along. The fear. The despair. The pain. And you're going to help me do that, little one."

"I won't do anything for you." - You wheezed, shaking with pain.

"Oh, you already have. You're his weakness. Now he will run around like a mad dog trying to find you. And when he does, I'll make sure you see him suffer." - Your captor growled.

You were silent, trying to gather strength to defend yourself somehow. Your head was spinning and your body was in pain, but you didn't let yourself break.

"When Jungkook comes, you will that one who feel pain, despair, and fear again. You know that." - You say sharply. The man laughs at how restless you are.

"Do you know what people are the most frightening? Those who have nothing to lose. And I am exactly like that. I have nothing. And your Jungkook took it all away from me." - He stops talking. He looks at you, wondering where to start. "I'm looking forward to him. Now let's decorate your beautiful skin with perfect cuts." - Says your captor. He touches your cheek with the knife and you hold your breath. Another moment and he will cut your face. Suddenly you hear the sound of a struggle. The kidnapper also hears something happening outside.

"Has Jungkook really come? I have to go meet him with honors." - You see the man shove the knife into the sheath and a moment later pull out a gun. You are frozen with horror. The man loads the weapon and walks to the exit of the warehouse.

Your brain is working at full capacity. You hear screams, sounds of blows. You try to figure out how to free yourself from the ropes. But your arms and legs are tied so tightly that you can barely move.

You are literally petrified when you hear a few shots and everything goes silent. It's quiet. And you hear the drops drumming on the metal in time with your heartbeat. The door opens and you see someone coming. Because of the light shining in your face, you hope it's Jungkook. From the way he looks, it's him.

"Jungkook..." - You cry, calling out to your boyfriend. When he ends up next to your lap, you don't immediately realize that it's not Jungkook. It's Doohoon. Tears wash away your mascara, closing your eyes. You blink your eyes open and finally see clearly. He still has the bruises under his eyes, the marks of Jungkook's beatings.

"Candy..." - He touches your cheek with cold fingers. You cry harder. You're actually glad that Doohoon is here. It doesn't matter who he is. What matters is that he came to save you. How did he find you so quickly? Was it because he was following you? "Bastards. What did they do?" - He wipes away the blood running from the wound on his lip.

"How did you find me?" - You ask in a shaky voice. Doohoon hurries to untie you. He unties your hands first. Your wrists burn with pain. You rubbed them with your hands to ease the pain. You waited for him to respond, but he was in no hurry to answer. Doohoon knelt down and began to untie your legs.

"I saw you run out of Jimin's club. I was right behind you. I texted you, when you were there. I knew something bad had happened. I went after you and wanted to pick you up...." - You were so focused on Doohoon words and his movements trying to free you from the ropes that you didn't hear someone appear next to you.

It's like you're in slow motion, seeing Doohoon flying backwards with great force. You see Jungkook grabbing him by the collar and punching him in the face, decorating his face with a new bruise.

"You fucking shit!" - Jungkook yelled. You had to react somehow. You saw Jungkook beating Doohoon, who was covering his face with his hands to shield himself from the blows. Jungkook pushed Doohoon against the wall and continued to beat him.

"Jungkook!" - You called to get his attention. You called out to your boyfriend again and again to get him to pay attention to you, but it seemed like his main goal was to destroy Doohoon.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, motherfucker!" - Jungkook yelled between punches. At some point, while you were trying to untie your legs, Doohoon fought back against Jungkook. He seized the moment and punched Jungkook in the face. Jungkook fell back on, not expecting to miss Doohoon’s fist.

You released your legs and stood up. Your legs were shaking and you were dizzy. You had to stop the fight that was happening. You froze in horror when you were almost to them and saw Jungkook pull out a gun and point it at Doohoon’s face. He loaded the gun in a matter of seconds.

Doohoon froze just like you, but he didn't look scared. In fact, he was trying to hold back a smile. With his peripheral vision, he sees you standing behind Jungkook with terror on your face.

"Jungkook, I came to save Y/N..." - Doohoon says, his voice desperate.

"I'll make a sieve out of your head." - Jungkook said coldly. "This is all your fault, you fucking bastard. I know."

"Are you crazy? I didn't kidnap her, it wasn't me." - Doohoon almost doesn't cry. He makes his voice sound so innocent that your heart clenches in your chest. Jungkook doesn't look like himself. He looks like the monster you saw in Niseko again.

You see Jungkook breathing heavily. He's so focused on Doohoon and the possibility of destroying him that he doesn't even pay attention to you. He didn't come over to you when you were tied up. Did he not care what happened to you? And if you were lying unconscious, all cut up, he really would have run to kill Doohoon first thing in, too?

You see Jungkook take a step toward Doohoon and put the muzzle of the gun directly to his forehead.

"You bore me." - He says. Jungkook takes the safety off the gun and you realize that in the state Jungkook is in now, he can do anything.

You run to them and shout at the top of your lungs.

"JUNGKOOK ENOUGH!" - Your voice echoes in the warehouse and your eyes finally meet the two black buttons. Jungkook sees your bruised lip and the cut on your cheek. There are traces of smeared blood on your chin. Your mascara is smeared black on your cheeks. Your eyes are red, like you've been crying a lot. It hurts Jungkook to see what these assholes have done to you. He's going to kill everyone who hurt you, and he's going to start with Doohoon, who's responsible for kidnapping you.

"Baby..." - Jungkook says quietly, still holding the gun pointed at Doohoon.

At that moment, Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and a few other guys run into the warehouse. You stare at them indifferently for a second and then turn your gaze to Jungkook.

"Let him go. He saved me, and you want to kill him?" - You ask colorlessly.

"This is his handiwork. He set up this kidnapping..." - Jungkook explains. But that's not possible, because the kidnapper told you everything. And it wasn't Doohoon who took everything from the man who kidnapped you.

"What are you talking about?" - You ask, almost crying again. "The man who kidnapped me told me everything. You tortured him for eight hours to make him give the company to your boss and threatened to kill his little child. He went crazy, the man dreamed of take revenge with you, threatening to cut me into pieces. And you blame Doohoon for kidnapping me?" - All you hear was your voice filled with hysteria. You grabbed your hair, realizing the danger you were in because of your relationship with Jungkook. You were sick from the sleeping pills, from your nerves, and from the terrible Jungkook, who turned out to be a real wolf pretending to be a sheep. Everything you knew about your "best friend" and "boyfriend" was a lie and an illusion that he skillfully showed to you and his family.

"Let's all calm down." - You heard Hosok's voice. You looked at him and felt a wave of anger wash over you. The only one who was happy about the whole situation was Doohoon. Without showing his satisfaction, he was quietly rejoicing that his plan had worked out in the best possible way.

"It's your fault, Jeon, that I'm the here. Don't put the blame on someone else. You couldn't protect me, even though you promised me you would more than once." - You said. Your voice became hard because it was filled with anger and frustration. "I was really a fool to think that we could be a couple. I didn't see or realize who you really were. My feelings for you closed my eyes to your true personality, which I see right now. It's not Doohoon's fault that you've become what you are. You make your own decisions and do the things that you will be responsible for." - You stop talking, and everyone around you is stunned, like statues, frozen in place. Jungkook puts down the gun and wants to approach you.

"Baby... you have it all wrong...." - Jungkook says as he approaches you. You take a few steps back. Again, you are afraid of him, and now you are really afraid. Because you don't know the man in front of you. He only has the appearance of a man you've known since childhood.

"Don't even think about coming near me, Jeon." - You say, holding out your hand. "I don't want to know you anymore. I don't want anything to do with you." - Jungkook freezes. He feels like he's been hit in the chest with a hammer. Your words wound his soul. He looks at you and wants to hug you, wants to lean against you and hide you in his arms. Jungkook is a fool. He let everything happen: falling in love with you, telling you who he really is, having someone kidnap you, allowed Doohoon to do everything to make you think he was the really scumbag. It looks like Jungkook is really to blame and shouldn't be blaming anyone else. It's completely his fault.

"You need to go to the hospital." - Jungkook said. "Jimin will take you..." - He offered you.

"No." - You cut him off. "I'm not going with any of these thugs." - You say. Doohoon almost laughs out loud. You're a fire. He always knew you were sharp with your tongue. Unlike Doohoon, Jimin can't hold back his laughter. Everyone looks at him, especially Jungkook, who raises his eyebrows.

"Give me my phone back. I'll get out of here." - You tell Jungkook, knowing that he has your phone. Jungkook silently reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out your phone. He takes a step toward you and you take the phone away.

"Please, baby, if you don't want to go with me or Jimin, then go with Taehyung or Hoseok. You need to see a doctor." - Jungkook pleads with you.

"I don't need you to take care of me." - You say as you walk over to Doohoon. You take his hand and throw it over your shoulder. "I'm going to leave here with Doohoon. And God forbid you follow us. I'll call the police on you." - You say. You want to take a step with Doohoon, and then you laugh hysterically. "Oh right, who am I talking to. The mafia that controls the police. If the police don't protect me, I think…your mother will. Seems she's more powerful than the Seoul police." - You stare fiercely into Jungkook's angry gaze at you. "I'll tell her everything if you try to get close to me." - You threaten. A second's silence almost physically presses on everyone present. "Do you understand me, Jeon?" - You ask.

You don't wait for an answer. You and Doohoon walk away and you don't see that Jungkook is simply devastated. He is destroyed by your words and actions. From the very beginning, your relationship was like a house of cards. You and Jungkook were seduced by the possibility of feeling love, building a fragile house of cards which of fate that gave you false hope. And the real world destroyed that house in one day.

Three weeks later

Three weeks have passed, but the wounds from the experience still hurt. Not only bruises on your skin, but also deep scars in your soul. You feel empty, as if something important was torn from your heart. All these days you tried to cope, you got a job, set up a new apartment, taking things from Jungkook's apartment when he wasn’t be at home (on the third day of the new year). You tried to find a footing in your new life. But every night, thoughts of Jungkook returned like shadows.

Your mind is filled with questions: how could you have been so blind? How could you not notice Jungkook's dark side, which used to be just a vague feeling, but now became clear and obvious?

The image of him beating Doohoon and holding a gun to his head haunts you. That moment turned your perception of him upside down. He is not just the man you loved. He's a gangster. A dangerous one. Unpredictable. And although your heart screams that he is like that because of his circumstances, your mind says otherwise: you don't belong with him.

At the same time, you feel guilty. You've seen his other side, the gentle, caring one, the one who would give up everything for you. But even these memories are shattered by reality. You are afraid of him, afraid of who he has become, or who he has always been. And this fear destroys all hope. Everything fell apart in one moment, like a house of cards.

You wake up when the sun has already set. Today is your night shift at the convenience store you got a job at in your new neighborhood. There were many advantages to working there. The salary is enough for rent, the store is close to your new apartment. The scholarship will be enough to live on.

The fourth year is about to start. You will be writing your thesis. Your head is swollen with how you are going to combine study and work. You have to try again. But to be honest, you don't have much of a choice. You can't go back to Suwon to live with your parents because they still think you live alone in the apartment and are doing fine, even though you look back at your shadow even during the day. Now every man is a potential kidnapper for you. And you are afraid that Jungkook is watching you. Maybe he is, but you haven't seen or heard anything suspicious in the three weeks you've lived without him. And there hasn't been a single news from Jungkook himself. Not a text, not a call. Nothing.

You put on a black oversized hoodie and wide black pants to make yourself look big and more like a boy than a girl. You came up with the idea to do this when you were dressed to work in a store. This peculiar disguise may not have worked properly, but it made you feel at ease.

Luckily for you, in the two weeks you've been working in the store, working at night has been quite pleasant, the only trigger is being sleepy even if you've slept during the day, and maybe some grumpy man who wants to get free lunchboxes that will only expire at the end of the day.

Doohoon also bored you off a lot. He helped you find an apartment and had a habit of coming to see you whenever he felt like it. Of course, you rarely let him in, and you could almost always come up with some excuse, but there were a few times when you just couldn't do it. You are annoyed by his pre-housekeeping, he thinks he can throw money at you and you will idolize him. He reassures you that he is just "your good friend" who helps you in your time of need, and you tell him that you have had enough "friends" in your life and that he should leave you alone. But he just laughs and doesn't take your words seriously.

You put a deep hood over your head so that you can't see your face and pull on your jacket. In 15 minutes you will reach the store and take over the shift from your partner Sunchol. He's boring to tears and has a joke flatter than the ground.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you take it out to see who could have texted you so late. Of course, you already guessed, even before you see for Dohun's name on the phone.

"Candy, I can take you to the university tomorrow. I remember when you talked to Suyong on the phone and you agreed that you would go together to choose a topic for your diploma. I have some business tomorrow in the area of your campus, so we're on the way 😉"

You read the message and close the cocoa-talk without answering Doohoon. You roll your eyes upwards. Your eyes seem to see inside your skull. It's so annoying, he's so intrusive. You'd rather travel across Seoul by subway and bus ten times by yourself than be in Doohoon's company for an extra 40 minutes. Even if the trip takes 1.5 hours, you're calm and nothing stresses you out.

You come to work, change your clothes. You take over from your partner's shift. You tolerate his several stupid, flat jokes, almost politely, and get to work. Actually, today you had to arrange the new ramen that arrived, remove the expired food boxes from the display window, and that's it.

You didn't start working right away, around twelve o'clock in the morning, you had people coming in, and you served people almost one by one. When the flow of people ended, you were able to start arranging the goods. You did the ramen quickly. The food boxes were next in line.

You had almost finished collecting the expired food when you heard the sound of the "wind song", which meant that someone had come. You went to the counter where the cash register was and saw Mr. Yon. He was a man of about 45 and he worked in the police. You were friends with him and had interesting conversations about his work. He came in early today. You looked at the clock and saw 12.21. He usually came for groceries at 1 am or even 2 am. His work took up all his free time, so he didn't have a family.

"Are you going to have dinner early, Mr. Yon?" - You asked with a smile on your lips, holding a whole stack of food boxes. The man heard you and walked over, smiling back.

"Good night, beautiful. You're working so hard, isn't it hard for you? Let me help you." - Mr. Yon offered to help you. You shook your head in refusal.

"Thanks, but no. I've already done it. You choose what you want to eat, and I'll go to the service room and leave the boxes. That's all I have to do and my night is free." - You say. Mr. Yon smiles at you awkwardly, scratches the back of his head, and walks to the shelves with the kimpabs. You put the expired food in the warehouse and hurry back behind the counter.

Mr. Yon is taking pibimbap, onigiri with tuna in an egg, and fish cake with soup.

"How was your day today? Did you finally find out who stole that van?" - You asked about the case Mr. Yon was working on. You had a warm relationship with him, so he sometimes shared details of his work with you. Mr. Yon smiled that you were interested in his case and replied in a friendly manner.

"Yes, I know who is him. Now I just need to find him and then everything will become clearer." - The detective replies. The two of you listen to the sound of the cash register, and the man lets out a scream. You smile in confusion.

"I forgot to get a makgeolli, I want to relax a little." - He says and goes to the shelves with the algogol. While you're packing and waiting for Mr. Yon, someone else enters the store. The sound of the "wind song" doesn't let you miss anyone.

You see out of the corner of your eye that it is a young man dressed in all black. He has a cap on his head, also black, and a wide hood over it. He does not raise his head to you, so you do not greet him. He keeps his hands in his karmas and walks to the shelves of ramen’s. You look ordinary, but you feel some slight tension. In any case, you have nothing to fear. There is a detective nearby. Should you ask him to stay until this guy leaves?

Mr. Yon returns with a bottle of makgeolli and two cans of Heineken. You punch the alcohol and name the amount. Mr. Yon pays, and you watch the guy picking out the ramen. His cap hides his face well. You take the money and count the change. You want to ask the detective to stay with you and talk for a while (until this suspicious guy leaves), but while you're counting the money, his phone rings.

"Yes." - Mr. Yon answers the phone. He is silent for a long moment, you give him the change and he takes it. "I'm at the convenience store near my house right now, but I can be there in 20 minutes. Wait for me and interview the witnesses when I get there." - Mr. Yon takes the whole bag of food in his hands and smiles at you disappointedly. "I guess I won't be able to relax as much as wanted, and it’s seems I didn’t be able to eat dinner too." - You smile nervously. The detective won't be able to stay. Okay, then you'll have to taken the “panic” button.

"It's just the way the job is. What will you do?" - You say politely.

"That's right. Have a cood night, beautiful, I'll see you tomorrow?" - He asks, getting ready to leave.

"Yes, I'm working the night shift again tomorrow." - You say kindly. Mr. Yon throws you a satisfied smile.

"See you then." - He says and leaves. You stay behind the counter and feel your tension rising. The guy in black is standing by the shelves with ramen as the detective leaves. You sit down on a chair, put the panic button in your pocket, which was meant to be used to call a private security service. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the guy go to the shelves with kimpabs and onigiri. He took some food and headed in your direction.

You don't know why, but your heart started pounding and your breathing became rapid. You tried to calm him down.

"Good night." - You greeted him, not looking up when the young man came to the counter. You waited for him to put the food on the table so you could run it through the cash register.

Your heart sank to your heels as he placed the ramen on the table and you saw the tattoo on his arm. A purple heart near his thumb, a crown on his index finger, an inscription with his initials, and an emoticon with a curved eyebrow that conveys irony or sarcasm. These tattoos can belong to only one person.

"Good night." - You hear a velvety voice, with a slight hoarseness. The voice you missed so much. A voice that instantly set your whole being on fire.

Jungkook was standing in front of you, smiling slightly, and you wanted to fall through the ground just to avoid seeing him. Just not to hear that your favorite voice. You seem to have forgotten how to breathe. You come to when he steals a box of cooked rice and a few corndogs next to ramen. You don't know what to do. But you're in a fog, so you look down and punch the goods.

Jungkook does not continue the dialog with you. He doesn't ask you anything, just waits in silence for you to tell him how much the food is.

"5900 won." - You don't say it as confidently as you want to sound.

"I will card payment, please." - He says. And you feel like you're in an invisible press. You're nervous and it shows in your hands, which tremble as you get ready the payment to the card.

Jungkook sees your hands shaking, but he doesn't say anything. He is trembling just like you, only inside. He has been wanting to come to you for so long. He forbade himself all three Sundays, which he barely lived without you. But his desire was unbearable. He had to see you, he had to hear your sweet voice, without which he cannot imagine his life. That why he here.

Jungkook doesn't know how to fix everything. He realizes that he has ruined everything. He turned their relationship into a house of cards, and now it's fallen down. But he has to start from the beginning. He wants you by his side, and if it takes years, he won't hesitate to spend them. This time he will try to control everything and make sure that no one lays a finger on you. He knows he can do it no matter what it takes.

That's why he doesn't say anything to you, he just stands there quietly and admires your beautiful face. Damn, have you become even more beautiful? Have you become even more attractive? Have you always been this fascinating?

Jungkook puts the card on the counter and the payment sounds. Jungkook takes the food.

"Does the microwave work here?" - Jungkook asks, taking a step away from the counter. You stare at him, not sure whether to lie to make him leave or tell him the truth that he's staying. Jungkook is waiting too. He knows. That if you tell the truth, it will be a sign to him that you want him to stay.

"It's working." - You say without looking at him. Your desire to have him around is stronger than any common sense you've ever had. You want to be with him. Let him eat in one place near you.

Let him stay in your life forever.

↰ Previous chapter ⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

Note from author: By the way, for this part, I was inspired by the BTS song "House of Cards". It always reminded me of the motives of the mafia. And I also thought it perfectly described Y/N and Jungkook's relationship in my story at this particular stage. So if you want to, listen to this song while reading chapter 20.

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts mafia au #bts fanfction #Spotify

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tuttle-did-it · 2 days ago

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If you see the tags, I've seen Father Brown and it's... fine. It's fine. I don't think it's a very good show. And whilst I have nothing against Mark Williams or anyone else in the rest of the cast, no one on that show makes me want to watch any more. I don't care about any of the characters or the world they live in. Father Dowling was a more entertaining show in comparison for me. And generally speaking, cosy mystery shows are not the best tv in the world. It's an engaging lead that you need to pull it off. The rest is window-dressing. If the lead is delightful to watch, and the show even half-way written and directed, you'll have a fun murder mystery show. I have yet to find that here in UK. And forgive me, I just don't think Mark Williams is engaging and fun to watch. So it makes the whole show not enjoyable for me.

I don' felt the same way about Sister Boniface. It's fine. I just done care of I ever e another episode. I stopped enjoying Death In Paradise when Ben Miller left, honestly. I have seen eps every time they do a cast change to see if i enjoy it again. I do not. And the cast is far too young on DiP for what I'm looking for. I want an older detective who potters around the way Fletcher, older Perry or Ben Matlock did. With older guest stars. DiP had a few great older guest stars-- Peter Davison comes to mind as one. But I don't enjoy DiP as a show because I don't enjoy the main characters. I did when Ben was there. He it's not there, now. I try every time they soft-boot with new characters. I haven't found any others I like.

Harry Wild is probably the closest show in UK/IRE that I've seen that fits the bill. Jane Seymour is older, she is engaging, she is fun to watch. I wish her surrounding cast were a bit older as well, but she's fine. It's the closest I've found, here.

Also, as much as I love a lot of UK/IRE tv, my favourite character actors have, by and large, been American. Maybe it's because I primarily watched movies from 20s-50s-- especially in my formative years-- and US-based tv from 1950-1980. So the majority of my favourite character actors were getting older and appearing in these 80s/90s US cosy mystery movies/shows because they had worked with the main lead of the cosy mystery show (who was older).

Hell-- Dame Diana Rigg had her own cosy mystery show for a couple of years. It was fun. It was UK-based. So it can happen. I just haven't seen it happen in many years.

Also, I know ACD and Agatha Christie established the cosy mystery style, but the cast majority of tv shows I have enjoyed of this genre are American. Although I have a LOT to criticise America for (trust me, neither of is have the time or energy for how much I can criticise America for) they took the cosy mystery genre and perfected it-- those of the 80s/90s in particular were a lot of fun. There are a lot majority of UK-based things I prefer far more over US imports. But I have yet to see a UK-based murder mystery show that is as fun to watch as Murder, She Wrote, Matlock, Perry Mason and Columbo. All of our (UK/IRE) best actors had moved to the US in the 70s/ish, anyway. So I still got to see Patty McGoohan on cosy mysteries-- but it was Columbo. Patty Macnee was guest starring on Murder she Wrote several times. He wasn't working here in the UK. By and large, I think the US has done better with this genre -- especially when it comes to dotty older people-- than Britain. Which is hilarious to me on many levels.

(No, I am not talking about all the dozens of MSW/Columbo rip offs such as the Hallmark murder mysteries like Murder, She Baked. Are they cosy murder mysteries with aging guest stars? Sure. Are they remotely watchable? No. Not At all. Unless you are very drunk and making fun of the show instead of watching it to enjoy it.)

I have seen Father Brown. It's not enjoyable to me compared to Father Dowling-- and certainly not in comparison to the giant shoes left by Columbo, Ben Matlock and Jessica Fletcher to fill.

I know Matlock is being rebooted with Kathy Bates. I love Bates. She is delightful. But I'm tired of reboots. Give her any other fucking name. Kathy Bates deserves her own show without being forced to compete with Andy Griffith's shadow.

Same goes for Jamie Lee Curtis. She is rumoured to be doing a reboot if MSW. JLC deserves her own cosy murder show. Forcing her to compete with one of the biggest legends of all time in cosy mystery genre is entirely unfair to JLC and to Angela Lansbury.

Anyway. What I'm asking for is a cosy mystery with an engaging older lead that I want to watch every week. More Cannes Anne wheelchair's and false teeth. Ideally, with a decent writing team. DiP is no longer that for me. Father Brown has never been that for me. Am I glad it fits the bill for other people? Sure. Does it fit what I need? No. Harry Wild is the closest and even that has not entirely satisfied my itch.

You know, it's genuinely sad to me that aging favourite character actors no longer have any fun murder-mystery tv shows to guest-star as murders on.

#father brown #I just don't enjoy father brown #death in paradise #the only appeal for me for that show was Ben Miller #he's been gone for a decade #I have watched all the pther cast as theyve changed over. and I don't enjoy it.#harry wild #jane seymour #kathy bates #jamie lee curtis #stop fucking rebooting shit #it pains me to compliment America about anything #but they have perfected the cost murder mystery in 1970s/80s/90s and I am still looking for that watchability and fun #but their murder mysteries now are absolute shite

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11queensupreme11 · 13 hours ago

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Hi Queen! I wanted ask: If Percy does not want to have children any time soon, how would all the yandere react to it in their actions and responses? Maybe Percy keeps pushing it off. Considering if they are ready to have children. Also, maybe if thrown in she just wants to return back to her original world. Anyway, thank you for your lovely chapters! I am dying for act 2….and Poseidon! But, still a Posey (is that the ship name for Poseidon x Percy?) and Percades lover here!

unfortunately for percy, children are EXPECTED of her 💀 ofc, she can do what she's already doing in the fic and secretly chug aphrodite's tea as a plan b alternative, and some of the yans would just assume "oh, i guess because she's half human, it won't work 😞 but that's fine, once a safe way to ascend you has been found, we can get to the baby making! 💖" (this is not including the fact that loki and beelzebub already KNOW she can have kids with them in her state)

but lets say she's already been ascended and has been married to the yans!

poseidon: would not listen to her. it's her duty as a wife to provide children and he WILL have those kids. in his eyes, his poor daughter didn't have a mother around to teach her the ways of how to be a proper goddess and wife, but that's okay because daddy will teach her 🥺💖

hades: would just go "awww, you're so silly sweetie 💖" like poseidon, he'd just chalk it up to her being unaware of how things worked because she didn't have a mother to teach her. hades will just delicately (and patronizingly tbh) explain what was expected of her now that they were wedded; as his wife, she must bear his children. so simple, right? now time for her to lay back down on the bed and take him like a good little wifey should 🥰

beelzebub: actually wouldn't mind! he's very content with the fact that he finally married the love of his life so he'll be okay if she doesn't want kids right away! he's more than happy to enjoy his time with her and her alone. he's aware that this isn't the proper way to do things, but he literally doesn't give a shit. kids can come later! he loves the idea of having kids with her, but at the same time he's also terrified. he knows he's pure evil, that he's a horrible monster, he's literally the DEVIL after all so he feels like any kids he has with her would only hurt her while she's carrying them (like bella with rheumatoid arthritis)

anubis: a heartbroken puppy 🥺 "what do you MEAN you don't wanna carry a whole litter of 4-9 babies in your womb?????? does that not sound absolutely AMAZING to you????? think about our poor sweet kebi, she feels so lonely, she wants a baby sibling sooooo bad, would you really deprive her the chance of being a big sister??????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺" *cue kebi tugging at her mommy's skirt looking up at her like 🥺* he doesn't give a shit about propriety, he just wants to breed percy 😂

cú chulainn: the children will be born from hate sex. he's gonna take her rejection as an insult and be sooo offended 😂 "oh you don't wanna get knocked up by me? fine, go get knocked up by your uncle then! or maybe you wanna give your dear old dad a go?? how about ur cousin, hmm? GO ON THEN, SEE IF I CARE 😠" and then he actually loses his shit when she tries to walk out on him 😭

loki: he wouldn't actually mind it, he has a lot of kids already! sure he'd love to breed her, but its fine if it never happens. BUT if percy ever says "i don't want kids" then he'll just breed her harder just to mess with her cuz he's a piece of shit like that 😭

apollo: "oh you don't wants kids? 😭 that's fine 😭 really, it's okay 😭 i totally understand 😭😭😭😭😭" and then he leaves to go to his art room with all his fictional perpollo children that he made up and just start BAWLING. afterwards, he's gonna do whatever he can to make her change her mind CUZ HE WANTS THOSE PERPOLLO BABIES 👹👹👹👹👹

and omg i didn't see the last part about her telling them that she wants to go home, but that's just a terrible idea because all of them would just destroy her universe as punishment 😭😭😭

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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fluffyydumplings · 1 day ago

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IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD

If the world was ending right now

I’d hug you until I crush your bones

Because if my life flashes before my eyes

I would have liked to know that I still managed to engrave flowers of my love onto the dying flesh of your soul

It’s selfish

But once I’m gone

I’m nothing better than the fish swimming endlessly in a swirl of muddy puddles with nowhere to go

Aimlessly looking for a way to live even when life is no more

I’m nothing but the desires of my flesh and the sins that my soul has left my body with

And what better way to live even when I’m dead

But with the traces of my heart on your bones

To mark the reminder of our love

Or mine?

You could crush my bones too…

The world is ending darling..

Nothing matters anymore…

That’s kind of morbid

I’m hearing it now

But isn’t the world ending.. just the same damn thing

If the world was ending

I’d want to talk to you once last time

I wouldn’t talk about how much love I have for you

Or how all the stars in the skies are placed directly in the crevices of your heart

I would talk to you about how to make cupcakes

And how you still haven’t returned that food container I lent you last December

I would talk to you about the most mundane things that a being can talk about

Because if you think about it flowers are just particles that we happen to see

Yet they manage to hold stories of a million words

Stepped on by a man who was in a hurry on his way to work

Ignored

Plucked by a lady who hasn’t been visited by her children for years

Adored

Torn apart by the hands of a child who has just failed his test

Wasted

Think of it my darling

If the world were to end right now

What good is me telling you I love you

When my love lies in knowing how you’ve missed the bus today

When my love lies in knowing how the food at work was too salty for you today

My love for you is like a bookmark that sits between the pages of a book

Sometimes trapped between two boring pages

Sometimes trapped between the ending of a chapter

Sometimes trapped in the climax of a story

Sometimes wedged between simple words ‘like’ the or ‘nice’

Sometimes wedged between words like ‘love’ and ‘joy.’

You can’t say the moments that we have spent wasting our lives together in simply talking about the shape of the clouds

Is any less than the moments that we have celebrated

Whether it be our love or our triumphs

Because the little moments of joy that we look over are paper cranes in a glass jar

A single moment of joy is just a single crane that stands small in the horizon

But when pilled up

A colourful mess is everything

Our colourful mess is everything

A beautiful sky is made up of thousands of colours

Even a murky brown or simple beige plays a part in curating magnificence

So.. if the world was ending right now

Let’s not focus on the glass jar

Let us fold a single crane

And make it a pretty one

Because

If the world was ending right now

I would wish for nothing but a few more minutes for me to complain about doing laundry with you

I would wish for nothing but to be able to count all the freckles on your face

I would wish for nothing but to be able to steal the blanket from you as you push me off the bed

Because darling.. what if tomorrow we’re just a memory that no one remembers anymore

Because darling love is nothing special

Isn’t that love?

Familiar

Precious

Worth thinking about the end of the world for?

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project-lumen · 2 days ago

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Stray Concepts By Us Crazies LOL

Hi-hey-hello, my Lumenfolk! (thats what im calling you sillies now) (PLEASE DONT JUDGE ME FOR THAT,,)

So just for any missing context of any sort, I copy pasted some scraps of notes about LUMEN :D idk I just felt like it. Warning it might be a lot of scrolling so umm beware!!

If I remember to do so, this MIGHT be updated!!!!!

CHAPTER NAMES:

CH 0: The Watchers' Apprentice

CH I: Curse Of The Desert

CH II: A Tale Of The Honorable

CH III: Wicked Witch Of The Moon

CH IV: Ticking Whispers

CH V: A Rather Lonely Sunflower

THE LOST PAGES: April Is For Apocalypse

CH VII: Of Cards and Cars

CHAPTER ∞: Our Will Be Done

Chapter 0 is an introduction to the main plot, as WC is really excited to see how the Life Series goes. Chapter ∞ is the very end.

Both take place in the Watcher Realm

Throughout all of Chapter 1 (AKA Third Life), the player solely plays as Grian. At the rare times in which he sleeps/is alone, the Watcher Child visits Grian, only confusing him further ("Get out of my head, please!")

After Grian jumps from the cliffside at the end of Third Life, the WC joins the Watchers again. At first, it seems like they're cheering that Grian won and that the Life Series were a success. But at the end of Chapter 1, after the celebrations, it is revealed that the WC doesn't approve of the Life Series as much as before Third Life.

The WC vowed to make sure the player they chose from their tarot cards would win. They plucked another card from the pile… "THE STAR".

Chapter 5, Secret Life, has the most Watchers moderating and controlling it because of what happened in April (The Lost Pages---Real Life's Malfunction)

Chapter 6, Wild Life, will be the LEAST controlled by the Watchers. This will be because of one of the two undecided reasons:

Option A: The Lifers (aka mainly Grian) broke the system and caused the Watcher Realm to malfunction

Option B: Same as Option A, but it was the Watcher Child who did it.

You can change the background plot as Watcher Child; for example, in Double Life, maybe Watcher Child causes Scar to realize that he's literally being cheated on and he goes to join the Broken Hearts Club!

The Watchers have many forms, but two that stand out are specifically:

Creature Form:

The Watcher takes up the form of a humanish creature, but it still looks alien. It has no face. The watchers' talking sprites will be represented via Eyes.

They will be differentiated by the shape/form of those eyes.

Pure Form:

Lovecraftian Cryptid. Never goes well for mortal eyes.

If you see it, you will probably go blind.

REAL LIFE'S PROMINENCE EXPLAINED:

Real Life would be a "failed experiment" of the watchers, hidden to the world and erased from all the memories of the lifers---all except Cleo.

See, while you're playing through the game, it'll be a free roam world whenever you're in the middle of a quest which requires you to go somewhere. Hidden (but also more out in the open) around the Secret Life map will be these torn out papers from an unnamed Watcher's journal, who was documenting how Real Life went. So the player is aware that these papers exist, the first one will be given to you, and you'll have a side quest to find the rest.

Once you collect all the papers, you go on to complete Secret Life (as Scar, since the Watcher Child is watching from his perspective, like how they do with all the other winners). When Secret Life is over, you'll be notified of an option in the MENU to play Real Life, aka The Lost Chapter. Real Life will have an old timey, brown worn down filter to it, as you will be playing through Cleo's Memory---the only other live proof that Real Life exists.

The reason that A. these papers are torn out from a journal and B. only Cleo remembers Real Life is because remember, Real Life was a failed experiment. (Remember how Real Life really only lasted one episode? That's why it was failed---it wasn't prolonged, and to the Watchers, it wasn't very entertaining, either)

The Watchers thought that the failure of Real Life was a clear weakness to their everlasting power, so they simply got all of the Lifers and removed their memories... but before they could end the series, Cleo had already won. The main and number one rule in The Life Series of Experiments (I literally just made that name up on the spot) is that all winners, no matter what, will remember the series they won. So they forgot that they couldn't erase Cleo's memory.

So, Cleo is not bound to the Watchers like the other Lifers are. And thus, she remembers.

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luv-beam · 2 days ago

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HI TARA!!! my thoughts while reading are under the cut :'))) but i gotta say that i fall in love w ur writing every time i read something from u:

• i would like to start off w the fact that u set the scene so incredibly well, like im in awe and envy at this beautiful scene ur painting for us 😭 not to mention that it all flows really well too; just a strong opening paragraph

• awwwh PLS THE BIG BROTHER LITTLE SISTER DYNAMIC!!! when the little sis thinks the absolute world of her big bro :'))) and when she's even more mad than he is LMAO the TOAD LINE??? damn seokmin i was not aware of ur game

• lowkey i would have folded that fast too if duke lee seokmin of lancaster played along and kissed my hand

• this starting line ^ crazy good... like i'd like to sear this into my mind so i never forget it?? the social szn unfolds like a delicate fan??? adding another layer to the tapestry of ur life??? lee seokmin????

• HE HAS AN UNCANNY ABILITY TO ELEVATE THE ORDINARY UGHHHHH WHAAAAT A LINE i love that so, so much and it's so true as well

• awwwh yn and seokhao's goodbyes are so sweet :'')))) im so glad they all hold so much affection for one another

• "your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes could bear" im cryingksnfkdnjf seokmin sulking over the wool while he's away,, sometimes i like to imagine him as a damsel draping himself out of the window sill of a tower

• i love how yn describes herself feeling empty while hes away like heh... i know something u dont... heh :))))) and crocheting? me too!!! so cute that she made him smth

• TARA U R A MASTER AT IMAGERY!! the opening lines of age 15 are mwah chefs kiss like if i could draw/paint, i would literally turn this fic into a graphic novel for u

• tulip... brb while i burst into tears

• started grinning like an idiot while reading this ^ i can see his playful melodrama and the smile on his face,,, im so down bad like i would fold like a lawn chair if we played around like this irl (i say as a grown ass woman)

• oh how i do love the classic brushing of the limbs that gets the mcs blushing like hell... also love what u did there w the planting seeds in ur mind to decode later while they're literally planting flowers... i see u tara u genius

• oh wow the total 180 w the reveal of the duke's death (also seokmin addressing her as my dearest tulip TT) — thinking of seokmin entering the social szn as a recently-made duke and all the girls hounding after him in his fresh grief......

• this section (seok and hao just got back after the death reveal) is short but so bittersweet. like when u give seok the swords from the flower bed and he just kind of chuckles like yes... days gone by huh... UGH

• it breaks my heart to know that seokhao now have their dead fathers as something in common 😭😭😭 its sweet tho to know they're all looking out for each other. im w yn tho, i hope hers and haos relationship isnt negatively affected by this :'))

• THE RETURN OF THE TAPESTRY METAPHOR

• okay i have to confess something... this is my second time reading thru... and so im reading the part where minghao and yn talk in the garden and he's warning her of the whispers springing up abt her and seok and im like... freaking out bc i KNOW WHAT HAPPENS 😭 IM GNAWING MY FIST LIKE IK THAT HAO'D CONCERN IS SINCERE AND IM JUST SJFNKENFKFJF THIS SCENE HOLDS SO MUCH MORE WEIGHT DURING A REREAD (why i love comparing my thoughts btwn a first and second read tho, like u see things /differently/)

• i love the teasing and sweet assurances in the letters 😭 like they're so genuine and cute (rip minghao)

• AHHHHH THE SMOKING SCENE FROM SZN ONEEEE i like this change of dynamic tho instead of being btwn siblings, it's now btwn two love interests friends

• WE CANT ALWAYS HAVE WHAT OUR HEARTS DESIRE???? WHILE LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT LEE SEOKMIN????????? HHEHDJDJFJFJKFKFK

• sure sure fencing BUT YEARNING TO FIND LOVE?? BUT MY DEAR SIR?? YOUR GRACE, YOUR LOVE IS RIGHT NEXT TO U

• THE LONGING AND ASPECT OF THE FORBIDDEN MAKES THE SMALL DISTANCE BTWN U YAWN LIKE A CHASM AHHHH THIS PASSAGE!!!! like oof... i love angst and yearning like this, where im screaming at my phone screen to just kiss her already (knowing the... perilous journey ahead... heh...)

• friend.... FRIEND???? brb gonna go waltz into oncoming traffic

• oh the way this ends 😭😭😭 like my heart is being squeezed,,, the way he whispers tulip and the roots of ur love for him take hold UGGGHH!!! I CANT DO THIS

i will have to endure for another day tho and i will return for chapter two tmrw! i loved this even more than the first time i read it (and i loved it a lot then too)!! i was really able to sit w ur words this time, and i do have to say tara that u have such a talent for imagery, like omg this was so beautiful TT but thank u for writing this!! hope ur having a lovely day/night and i'll be back o7 💖

The Somerset Affair | Chapter 1: Whispers in the Garden

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: CHAPTER 1 IS FINALLY HEREEEE // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // 2nd chapter will be up soon!!!

summary: lee seokmin is a scoundrel for having beaten your brother at fencing. or... is he?

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here!

Age 8

Mayfair is alive today. The Somerset estate hums with energy, a ripple of excitement passing through the gathered crowd, their eyes all fixed on the fencing match taking place in the wide, manicured garden. The afternoon sun casts a golden haze over the scene, warming the air and wrapping everything in a soft, honeyed glow. Laughter and chatter float like music across the grounds, underscored by the occasional ring of steel clashing against steel. The sweet fragrance of roses drifts on the light breeze, mingling with the fresh scent of cut grass. You sit near the front, your small hands gripping the edge of your chair, bouncing with excitement as you watch your older brother, Minghao, spar against a boy you've never seen before.

This new boy stands tall, his dark hair tousled in the breeze, and a sharp determination shines in his eyes. The way he moves—it’s confident, with an energy that seems far beyond his years. Your brother, usually so self-assured, falters as the boy steps onto the mat. A flicker of unease passes through you, twisting in your stomach. You can feel the tension, see it in the way Minghao adjusts his grip on his sword. The match begins, and every time the swords collide, the sound reverberates through your chest. Your heart sinks a little more with each point your brother loses, and soon, the inevitable happens—the newcomer disarms Minghao with a flourish so smooth it draws gasps and murmurs from the audience.

"Such skill!" someone whispers, while others erupt in applause, their cheers filling the air. But you remain still, arms crossed tightly over your chest, brows drawn into a deep frown. How dare this boy defeat your brother? And so effortlessly! You want to scowl, to hold on to your anger, but the sound of the crowd’s cheers washes over you, making your resentment grow.

Seokmin—that’s his name, you overhear—steps forward, offering Minghao a hand, his smile wide and bright like the afternoon sun. "A splendid match, my lord," he says, his voice rich and full of youthful pride. "I must confess, I didn’t expect to come away unscathed!"

You narrow your eyes, watching as your brother, ever gracious, accepts the handshake. There's a mixture of admiration and annoyance in his expression, a good-natured acknowledgment of defeat. They exchange lighthearted jests, their laughter mixing with the lingering applause. But you? You're fuming. This boy, with his easy smile and seemingly endless charm, had just bested your brother, and you feel a burning need to dislike him for it.

Then, as if sensing your discontent, Seokmin turns to you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah, you must be Lord Minghao’s sister?” he says, his grin widening into something playful, teasing. “Goodness, you make him look like a toad by comparison!”

Your mouth drops open in shock, a wave of indignation rushing through you. How dare he say such a thing? And worse—how could your brother laugh? "I beg your pardon?" you snap, standing as tall as your small frame will allow, arms crossing even tighter across your chest.

"Oh, I mean no offense, miss," Seokmin chuckles, clapping Minghao on the shoulder. "I jest, of course! Merely saying that you’re far lovelier than your brother—though, admittedly, it’s not a particularly high bar."

Despite yourself, your scowl begins to soften. There’s something about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the lightness in his voice. It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at you like that, as if daring you to join in on the joke.

“Mama says men who try to charm without revealing their titles aren’t to be trusted,” you counter, lifting your chin with defiant pride. The quip comes out sharper than intended, but you’re determined not to let him get the better of you.

Minghao gasps, hands raised in mock horror. “Sister, truly, must you always speak so boldly?” He turns to Seokmin with an exaggerated sigh. “Please Seokmin, do forgive her. I assure you, turning eight has done little to improve her temperament.”

“You’re only two years older than me, brother!” you huff, your voice a touch more indignant. Before you can continue, though, Seokmin drops into a low, dramatic bow, the movement exaggerated and theatrical.

“The fault is entirely mine, my lady,” he says in mock seriousness, rising and extending his hand toward you. “Lord Lee Seokmin, future Duke of Lancaster. At your service.”

Two years of etiquette lessons flood your mind, and with a sudden burst of excitement, you place your small hand in his. Seokmin bows once more, this time dropping a playful kiss on your knuckles as you curtsy. You can hear Minghao’s exasperated sigh as he rolls his eyes, but you ignore him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Maybe Seokmin isn't such a scoundrel after all.

As the day wears on, you find yourself watching Seokmin from the corner of your eye. Despite your earlier indignation, there’s something undeniably captivating about him. You notice the way he treats everyone with kindness, far beyond what’s expected from someone his age. When a younger child stumbles near the fencing ring, it’s Seokmin who rushes to their side, kneeling in the dirt, his voice gentle as he asks, "Are you alright?" He helps the child up, brushing off their clothes with such care, you can’t help but be touched. "Fear not," he says, a smile returning to his face, "you’re not a toad—you’re a knight in training!"

The sight makes your heart soften further. How could someone so infuriating also be so kind? The lines of irritation you had drawn between you and Seokmin begin to blur, shifting into something more like curiosity.

As the sun sinks low, casting a warm amber glow over the estate, you find yourself gravitating closer to where Seokmin and Minghao stand, their voices rising and falling in animated conversation about fencing techniques. Seokmin’s laughter, bright and carefree, fills the air like music, and before you know it, you’re smiling too; there’s something undeniably magnetic about him.

Despite your best efforts, you can no longer deny the strange fluttering in your chest—a curiosity, perhaps even fascination, that you hadn’t expected. Maybe, just maybe, Seokmin isn’t such a scoundrel after all.

The days of the social season unfold like a delicate fan, each gathering adding another layer to the tapestry of your life, and with every event, Seokmin becomes a constant presence. He is no longer just an occasional guest—he’s a breath of fresh air, his laughter ringing through the halls of your family’s estate, turning even the dullest moments into something lively and bright.

The lively soirées your parents host become a stage for his effortless charm. Ladies in the latest fashions exchange flirtatious glances in his direction, while gentlemen engage in animated debates about politics and sport, the buzz of conversation always punctuated by Seokmin’s easy laughter. His presence transforms these gatherings, turning what once felt like routine social maneuvering into vibrant affairs filled with warmth and genuine joy.

Whether he’s lending a hand to your mother in the garden, his sleeves rolled up and face relaxed in concentration, or sparring with your brother in a friendly match, Seokmin has this uncanny ability to elevate the ordinary. What might be a simple afternoon stroll or an idle conversation becomes a moment of significance when he’s around. Sun-drenched afternoons spent wandering the estate take on a new glow, each moment painted with the sound of his voice, the infectious energy he brings.

Age 14

The day Minghao and Seokmin leave for Eton is etched in your mind with vivid clarity, every detail sharp and impossible to forget. The morning is cool, yet the sun spills across the courtyard in golden rays, casting long shadows from the trees that sway gently in the breeze. The scent of dew-laden grass mixes with the faint perfume of your mother’s rose garden, but even the beauty of the estate feels muted by the melancholy lingering in the air.

Minghao, ever composed, stands with the straight posture expected of him, his hands clasped behind his back, looking every inch the young man ready to step into his responsibilities. His face, though calm, carries the weight of leaving home, but he hides it well, his eyes betraying only a flicker of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Seokmin, on the other hand, struggles more visibly with the impending farewell. His usual cheerful grin falters, the lightness of his presence dimmed as he glances between you and Minghao. He tries to keep up his usual charm, cracking jokes that feel just a little too forced, his laughter not ringing as true as it normally does. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness you haven’t seen before, as if he’s trying to hide his own sadness behind that well-worn mask of joviality.

As they load their trunks into the carriage, a heavy knot forms in your chest. You know you’ll miss your brother, but it’s Seokmin’s departure that stings deeper. He’s been more than a friend these past years—he’s been a constant, a steady warmth you’ve come to rely on. His laughter, his easy charm, the way he could turn even the most mundane day into something special. The thought of him being gone, of not seeing him wander the estate with his boundless energy, makes your heart ache in a way you didn’t anticipate.

You step forward, your fingers trembling as you reach for Seokmin’s hand, your grip tighter than intended. “Promise me you’ll write?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, each word trembling with the effort to hold back tears.

Seokmin’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his usual grin giving way to something gentler. "Of course," he says, his voice steady but quieter than usual. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture meant to comfort. “I’ll make sure you get the best letters—no boring stories, only adventures, I swear.” His grin returns, albeit a little weaker. "Besides, my lady, your brother and I will be back to torment you again come springtime!"

Minghao coughs politely. “No tearful goodbye for me, sister?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of affection in his words. His eyes flicker between you and Seokmin, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, though his posture remains upright and composed as ever.

You tear your gaze from Seokmin and offer your brother a watery smile. “Do not fret, dear brother,” you say, a bit of your usual wit returning. “I’ll save the tears for later, when the house is quiet without the two of you causing chaos.”

My Dearest Y/N,

I trust this letter finds you in fine spirits, though I daresay it is far more likely that you are wrapped in the cozy embrace of your favorite blanket, lost in a book, while the world outside continues on its merry way. I cannot help but smile at the thought, for you have always possessed the rare gift of finding joy in the mundane.

Eton is quite a spectacle, I must confess. The architecture is enough to make one feel as though they have stepped into a storybook. However, I must admit my fellow classmates lack the charm and wit of my beloved friend.

Oh, how I miss our little chats! It is a curious sensation to feel so far from home, yet I am bolstered by the knowledge that you are there, keeping our little world intact. Do tell me that you have not yet taken up knitting—your penchant for wool is far more than my eyes can bear.

Yours most fondly,Seokmin

My Dearest Seokmin,

Eton sounds positively enchanting.I must admit, the thought of you amidst all that grandeur brings me no small measure of joy—though I do hope you have not yet been swept away by the grandeur of it all! I find it impossible to imagine anyone there being quite as dashing as you.

Life here, as you suspected, is a touch quieter without your vivacious presence. I feel compelled to admit that I found myself rather melancholic the day you left. It was a curious sadness, one that clung to me like a shadow. The house feels a touch emptier, and while I do find solace in my books, nothing compares to the ease of our conversations. The warmth of your laughter is a melody I find myself longing for, especially on the coldest evenings.

Do keep writing, dear friend. Your tales from Eton are the very lifeblood of my days, and I shall regale you with the ongoing drama of our little realm. Until then, consider me your most devoted fan, ever eager for your next missive.

With all my affection,Y/N

P.S. You will take great pleasure in knowing that I have, in fact, taken up crocheting. A lovely cap, perfect for early springtime chill, awaits you at the estate.

Age 15:

Seokmin’s return each spring is as reliable as the first crocus peeking through the thawing earth, marking the true end of winter. His arrival is never just an event—it’s a burst of life that sweeps away the dullness left by the cold months. Every year, your excitement bubbles over as you anticipate that familiar moment when the world feels a little brighter with his return. The sunlight bathes the garden in warmth, a golden hue spreading like liquid over the well-trodden path he walks down, Minghao beside him. Their laughter floats through the air, a melody that harmonizes with the soft rustle of blooming flowers and the hum of spring.

When they finally come into view, your heart quickens, as if drawn into the rhythm of their steps. With Minghao’s ever-amiable grin and Seokmin’s radiant energy, they are a pair that seems to make the world tilt just a little toward joy. Every spring, it's the same—they stride toward you as if no time has passed, as if the long months apart were nothing but a brief blink in the grander scheme of your lives. And each time, the three of you fall into the same routines as though nothing has changed.

It usually begins with some mischief. They never fail to poke fun at you until you’re red-faced with exasperation. Seokmin, with that teasing glint in his eyes, will say something absurd or playfully condescending, and Minghao, ever the instigator, will back him up with a sly smirk. It’s only a matter of time before you lose your patience, yell, and stomp your foot, your protests ringing louder than you’d intended.

Your raised voice inevitably draws the attention of your mother, who reprimands you from the kitchen window with her usual fond disapproval. "Now, now," she’ll chide, a soft laugh hidden in her voice. "There’s no need to shout, dear. They’re only playing."

Of course, that’s the cue for Seokmin and Minghao to burst into laughter, doubling over in amusement at how easily they’ve ruffled your feathers. You scowl at them, but it’s hard to keep a frown on your face when they’re both so gleeful, their joy infectious, lighting up the entire garden.

One afternoon, not long after their return, Seokmin and Minghao find their old practice fencing swords—long forgotten and buried deep in the flowerbeds, peeking out from beneath the tulips. You watch as they unearth the swords with a mixture of surprise and amusement, both of them laughing as if uncovering a treasure trove of memories. Their faces are bright with nostalgia as they pull the dirt-encrusted weapons free, brushing off the petals clinging to the blades.

It's then that Seokmin starts to call you "Tulip," a private little nickname he utters only when it's just the two of you. The first time he says it, there’s a lightness to his tone, his lips curling into that mischievous smile of his. “You know,” he says, leaning in closer as you both watch Minghao attempt a ridiculous fencing stance in the distance, “it only makes sense. After all, you’ve been hiding our swords with the tulips. I think ‘Tulip’ suits you.”

At first, you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance, but there’s a warmth in your chest at how easily he’s assigned you such a tender nickname.

One particularly warm afternoon, your mother summons you to help her with the flowerbeds, a chore you reluctantly take on. The sun beats down, the heat pressing into your skin and the earth beneath your fingers, while the scent of soil and fresh blossoms hangs thick in the air. You sigh, resigning yourself to the tedious task when, suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the stillness.

“Ah, the fair lady in her noble endeavor!” Seokmin’s voice rings out, full of his usual playful grandeur. He strides through the garden gate, sweeping an imaginary cape behind him with exaggerated flair. His smile is as bright as the sun itself, lighting up the whole space. “Fear not, for I shall be your loyal squire in this quest for botanical beauty!”

Despite your earlier annoyance, a reluctant smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. Seokmin has a way of making even the most mundane tasks feel like an adventure. You watch as he bounds toward you, his movements light and full of energy. With an exaggerated show of determination, he rolls up his sleeves, pretending to prepare for battle. The weight of the day feels lighter already.

Together, the two of you dig your hands into the soil, your fingers dirty and the air filled with the soft rustling of the leaves around you. Laughter bubbles up between the two of you, mingling with the breeze as Seokmin’s animated voice brings life to the still afternoon. As you plant flower after flower, he regales you with tales of his fencing matches at Eton, his voice lively, arms waving dramatically to mimic the grand duels he’s fought.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he says with mock gravity, “this boy was at least twice my size, and I won the match with nothing but clever footwork and a flick of the wrist!” He pantomimes the move, his arm cutting through the air like a sword.

You laugh, shaking your head at his theatrical retelling, the tension of the task dissolving with every story. It’s impossible not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. “Is that so?” you tease, barely holding back a grin.

“I daresay, footwork in fencing is quite the advantageous skill,” Seokmin says, dropping to his knees beside you with faux-seriousness, inspecting the flowerbed as though it holds the secrets to the universe. “If one can move with the grace of a dancer, one can—”

Just as he gestures again, his elbow brushes against your arm, and suddenly, time seems to slow. The lighthearted atmosphere is pierced by a spark, a ripple of warmth that travels through you. Both of you freeze, his eyes widening in surprise. His cheeks flush a light pink as he quickly pulls back, his confidence faltering for a brief second.

“My sincerest apologies,” he stammers, the usual brightness in his voice now tinged with uncharacteristic bashfulness. He resumes his work, his fingers trembling slightly as they sift through the soil. The warmth of the sun suddenly pales in comparison to the heat between you.

“It’s quite all right,” you reply, your voice shaky, your heartbeat far more rapid than you’d like. “Just... gardening, after all.” You try for casualness, but the words sound ridiculous even to your own ears, given the charged air lingering between you.

Moments later, you stand to stretch, hoping to shake off the strange energy that has settled over the both of you. Seokmin leans in to grab a nearby tool, and his shoulder brushes against yours again—this time, the contact lingers for just a second too long. The heat of it sends another jolt through you, making your heart stutter.

You gasp, startled by the unfamiliar sensation, your breath hitching. The warmth spreads from your chest down to your fingertips, a strange, foreign feeling you can’t quite name.

“Goodness! I beg your pardon again,” Seokmin says quickly, his sheepish smile returning, though this time it’s softer, more hesitant. His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place. “It seems I have a propensity for unintentional collisions today.”

That smile—it makes your chest tighten. His presence, usually a source of comfort, now awakens something new within you, something unsettling yet undeniable. Gardening, once nothing but a mundane chore, has transformed into something far more intimate with Seokmin by your side. The flowerbeds seem to flourish under his laughter, vibrant blooms swaying as if they, too, revel in the joy of the moment.

But that foreign sensation? You tuck it deep into your mind, burying it along with the seeds you’ve planted, afraid to decode what it could mean. After all, this is Seokmin—your friend, your constant. And yet, the warmth of his touch lingers on your skin longer than it should, as if it’s quietly asking you to look closer.

My Dearest Seokmin,

I hope this letter finds you in moments of solace amidst the tumult of your recent loss. It is with a heavy heart that I pen these words, having heard of your father’s passing. The news struck me with such a weight, as though the very air around me had grown thick with sorrow. I cannot begin to fathom the grief you must be experiencing, yet please know that my thoughts and prayers are ever with you during this difficult time.

Your father was a remarkable man, a beacon of kindness and integrity, and his absence will undoubtedly leave a profound void in the hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing him. I remember fondly the stories you shared, of his wisdom and warmth, which have clearly shaped the exceptional person you have become. His legacy, I have no doubt, will endure through you.

With his passing, I know you now bear the title of Duke. While this new responsibility may feel daunting, I have every confidence you will honor his legacy with the same grace and strength he embodied. I want you to remember that you are not alone. I am here, dear friend, steadfast and unwavering, ready to support you as you navigate this uncharted territory.

I eagerly await the day when I can see your smile again, and we can talk about the flowers in the garden, just as we always have.

With all my love and deepest sympathies,Y/N

My Dearest Tulip,

Your letter brought me a flicker of light amidst the shadows that have enveloped me since my father’s passing. It is a solace to know that you, too, share in my grief, and your words resonate deeply within me, reminding me that I am not alone in this turbulent sea of sorrow.

Thank you for your kind remembrance of my father. He often spoke of you with such fondness, and knowing how he impacted your life brings me a measure of comfort. His lessons of kindness and integrity remain etched in my heart, and I strive to honor his legacy in every decision I make as Duke. It is a weight I carry with both pride and trepidation, yet the knowledge of your unwavering support gives me strength.

Though this season feels uncharted and daunting, your friendship is a cherished constant. I, too, long for the day when we can stroll through the gardens, exchanging thoughts about the flowers and sharing laughter, just as we once did. Until then, I will hold onto the warmth of your words and the memories we’ve created.

With heartfelt gratitude and affection,Seokmin

Age 16:

When Seokmin and Minghao return home the next spring, it’s clear that Seokmin carries more than just the usual joy and liveliness he always brings with him. A new weight settles over him, one you haven’t seen before. The responsibility of the Dukedom starts to bear down on him, heavy as the cloak he will one day wear. His laugh remains bright, his smile still warm, but there’s something different now—an unspoken awareness that the carefree boy of the past is slowly giving way to the man he is becoming.

He has grown taller, his limbs long and strong, and the way he carries himself now commands attention. The once-boyish face is now defined, the angle of his jaw sharper, while his arms, corded with muscles, show the signs of hard work and training. It’s as if each inch he’s gained has come with a newfound strength, and when he meets your gaze, his eyes hold a certain seriousness, as if he is seeing everything with a fresh perspective.

The easy rhythm of your old routines stays intact—Minghao teasing you until you yell, Seokmin’s booming laughter echoing across the fields, and the reprimands from your mother when your playful shouts interrupt her afternoon peace. It all feels the same, yet beneath it all, you know things are changing.

On one such afternoon, you discover their practice swords—once lost and forgotten—buried haphazardly in the flowerbed among your mother’s beloved tulips. You pull them free with a gasp, the soil still clinging to the metal, and when you bring them to Seokmin, he chuckles, the sound a little sadder than you remember.

“Well,” he says, wiping the dirt from the hilt, “seems like even the tulips want to keep us from growing up too fast, eh, Tulip?”

Despite the weight of responsibility that now shadows him, he still calls you “Tulip.” The name slips easily from his lips, playful and tender, a thread that ties your past to the present. The quiet nickname carries the bittersweet truth: your days of carefree adventures and playful banter are slowly fading, giving way to the responsibilities of adulthood. And while the world around you shifts, that name—whispered in secret—feels like a promise that some part of him, some part of both of you, will always stay the same.

My dearest Tulip,

It is with a heart full of sorrow that I write to you, upon receiving the most distressing news regarding your father’s passing. The world seems dimmer without him, and my thoughts are consumed with the weight of your grief. I wish I could be there, to hold your hand and share in the memories of a man who undoubtedly brought so much light into your life.

When the silence envelops you, when the days stretch long and heavy with unshed tears, know that I am here for you. You need not wear a mask of strength; I shall not expect it. Life has a way of changing in an instant, and though we are thrust into roles we may not be prepared for, there remains solace in companionship.

Please remember, my dear friend, you are not alone in this journey. I stand with you, ready to lend my support and share in whatever you need.

With the utmost affection,Seokmin

My dearest Seokmin,

Your letter reached me at a time when silence has settled heavily over the estate, wrapping around us like a shroud. It feels as though the laughter that once danced through these halls has been swallowed by a void, leaving behind a hushed emptiness. My mother, once so vibrant, now moves about with an air of resignation, her spirit dimmed as if she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders. The joy that once bloomed within her seems to have withered, and even the flowers in the garden appear to droop, their colors muted in sympathy for our grief.

I often find myself worrying for Minghao. The new title of duke weighs upon him like a heavy cloak, and I fear that the responsibilities thrust upon him will change him in ways I cannot yet understand. I can only imagine the burden he feels, trying to uphold our father's legacy while grappling with the uncertainties of leadership. It frightens me to think of how this shift may alter our relationship, how he might feel compelled to step into a role that distances him from the brother I’ve always known. I fear I may lose him just as I have lost my father.

Yet, amid this uncertainty, your words bring me a flicker of comfort. The knowledge that you stand with me during this turbulent time is a balm for my spirit. I long for your return, for the laughter and warmth that you bring.

Until then, I hold your friendship close to my heart, a gentle reminder that even in the darkest of times, I am not alone.

With all my affection,Y/N

Age 17:

At the onset of spring, when Minghao and Seokmin return to the estate, the world feels subtly transformed. The air is perfumed with the scent of blooming flowers, yet there’s an unmistakable weight in the atmosphere, a quiet acknowledgment of the changes that accompany their new titles. As dukes, both acquire an aura of responsibility that overshadows the playful ease they once share.

The lighthearted teasing that characterizes your interactions is now less frequent, often replaced by a more thoughtful camaraderie. It’s as though their titles impose a certain decorum upon them, one that even the most mischievous of spirits cannot easily shake off. Their laughter, while still present, bears the faintest echo of seriousness that wasn’t there before.

Yet, despite this change, you find immense joy in their company, particularly when they engage in spirited sparring sessions in the training yard. As wooden swords clash and echo, it’s impossible not to feel a thrill at the sight of them—two young gentlemen, once boys, now embodying a gravity that demands respect even in their play.

The matches become a spectacle, each clash of wooden swords accompanied by shouts and laughter that echo through the estate. You perch on the sidelines, an amused spectator, as Seokmin and Minghao banter playfully between bouts. “You call that a strike?” Seokmin teases, deftly dodging your brother’s advance with a lightness that seems almost effortless. “I’ve seen more ferocity from a kitten!”

Minghao rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth betraying a grin despite his best efforts to maintain an air of dignity. “One day, Seokmin, you shall learn that mocking your opponent is a perilous game.”

You perch on the sidelines, unable to stifle the laughter bubbling forth at their antics. Each exchange between them is a delightful dance, weaving a tapestry of shared history and unspoken affection. Yet, as you watch, you cannot help but feel a twinge of wistfulness; the exuberance of their banter now seems to emerge from a place tinged with nostalgia.

The sun dips low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the training yard; both young gentlemen wield their wooden swords with a fervor that sends a thrill through the onlookers. You remain at a distance, your heart pounding in rhythm with each clash of wood, an exhilaration mingled with unease coursing through you.

Seokmin, with his characteristic bravado, flashes a teasing grin as he engages your brother. “Come now, my lord! Surely you can do better than that!” The laughter in his voice rings like a bell, though you can’t help but feel a knot of apprehension tighten in your chest.

As the match continues, you find yourself transfixed by Seokmin’s agile movements, the way he dances about the training yard with a carefree spirit. However, just as you begin to relax, a delicate butterfly flits past, capturing Seokmin’s attention momentarily. It is in this fleeting distraction that your brother seizes his opportunity, lunging forward with surprising speed.

“Seokmin!” you cry out, the word escaping your lips before you can restrain it. Time seems to elongate as you watch, breathless, as Seokmin turns just in time to evade the wooden sword’s path. He stumbles slightly, regaining his balance as he casts a quick glance your way, surprise etched upon his handsome features.

With your heart racing, you dash to his side, adrenaline coursing through your veins. “Are you quite well?” The urgency in your voice is unmistakable, for the thought of his injury sends a chill through you.

“Indeed, I am unharmed,” he replies, though the forced joviality of his laugh belies the tension of the moment. “Merely caught off guard, I assure you.”

Yet your heart refuses to calm. “You cannot be so reckless! What if you had been injured?” The fervor of your concern envelops you, and you see a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes as he steps closer, the air between you thick with a burgeoning intimacy. That same foreign sensation – the one from years ago when he had brushed against you in the gardens – ignites within you, one you had tucked away and kept hidden, rearing its head in this moment of vulnerability.

“Thank you, Tulip, for your ever-present concern for my well-being,” he murmurs, his voice lowered as he meets your gaze, the world around you fading into an indistinct haze. Just then, Minghao loudly clears his throat, and Seokmin drops his eyes, a bashful blush appearing on the apples of his cheeks.

You step away, embarrassed, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

Minghao corners you in the gardens that night, the cool summer breeze brushing against your skin as you take a walk, seeking solace from the tempest of thoughts swirling in your mind. The encounter with Seokmin lingers like a gentle whisper, an unsettling mixture of warmth and confusion that dances at the edges of your consciousness, teasing you with emotions you struggle to understand.

“Sister,” he begins, his voice so soft that you nearly startle. In an instant, he presses a hand against your mouth, his finger raised in a quiet plea for silence. “It’s only me, Y/N. I fear you’ll wake the entire estate.”

“It’s your fault for skulking about the gardens like a common thief!” you whisper back, fiercely. “What on earth could possibly require such urgent discussion that you couldn’t grant me one night of peace?”

His expression grows serious, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You must be careful, sister,” he admonishes, and in that moment, he seems less like your brother and more like the Duke of Somerset—tall, proud, and formidable. “There are whispers… about you and Seokmin.”

“Whispers? Whatever do you mean?” You search his face for clarification, anxiety bubbling within you.

Minghao shakes his head as if dismissing the very idea of this conversation. A wave of indignation washes over you, eager to burst forth. He may be only two years your elder, yet he still insists on treating you like a child. “Your debut into society draws near,” he continues, his voice measured and resolute. “You mustn’t jeopardize it.”

“But Minghao—” you begin, but he raises a hand, silencing you with a mere gesture.

“Listen. You know how these things unfold. A mere hint of impropriety could tarnish your reputation. I don’t want you to suffer from the kind of gossip that twists the truth.” His tone softens, revealing a hint of genuine concern that pierces through your indignation. “I only want what’s best for you.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. “I am not a child anymore,” you protest, the tremor in your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I am capable of making my own choices.”

“Perhaps,” he replies, his eyes steady and unwavering. “But I have a responsibility to protect you, Y/N. I don’t wish to stifle your spirit, but you must grasp the implications of your actions.”

The night air grows thick with unspoken sentiments, and as the stars twinkle overhead like mischievous spectators, you grapple with the tumult in your heart. There’s something about Seokmin that sends ripples of confusion coursing through you, a fluttering sensation that stirs your chest whenever his name crosses your mind. You do not fully comprehend what it is, but it’s undeniably present—a flicker of something more, leaving you teetering on the precipice of feelings you are not yet ready to confront.

My dearest Seokmin,

As I sit here with this pen in hand, I find myself quite at a loss. The arrival of my debut looms on the horizon, and while I am certainly filled with anticipation, I must confess that trepidation dances in my chest, quite uninvited. The notion of standing before an audience of peers—well-bred and well-mannered—fills me with an unease I cannot quite articulate. Will my words tumble forth in a jumbled mess? Or worse, will they fall on deaf ears?

I cannot shake the dreadful thought that I may never find a match. What if I enter that grand ballroom, adorned in my finest gown, and am met with indifference? Will the charming suitors twirl past me, whisking away others while I stand, forgotten, on the periphery? The idea sends a shiver down my spine, as I fear I may spend the evening watching the festivities unfold without me.

As I consider the expectations that accompany my debut, I can’t help but reflect on how you and Minghao have gracefully embraced your new roles as dukes. You carry the weight of your responsibilities with such elegance, while I find myself yearning to flourish in a world that feels daunting. Will I, too, be able to navigate this landscape of expectation and propriety, or will I falter under its weight?

Forgive my ramblings, dear friend. I suppose I am merely hoping for reassurance, a kind word from you. Perhaps if I know you will be there—your presence a familiar balm—I might muster the courage to dance and revel in the splendor of the evening.

With warmest regards and hopeful heart,Your Tulip

My Dearest Tulip,

Your recent letter has landed in my hands like a most delightful spring breeze, though I must confess it carries with it a hint of unease that quite unnerves me. How is it that my steadfast friend, who has faced the world with such spirited determination, now frets over the prospects of the ballroom?

First and foremost, allow me to put your mind at ease. The mere thought of you standing in that grand ballroom, adorned in the finest gown, is enough to illuminate the dimmest of corners. Your charm will be as radiant as the most exquisite of chandeliers, drawing the gaze of all who are fortunate enough to cross your path. I assure you, the gentlemen will hardly be able to focus on anything—or anyone—else.

Now, I cannot let this opportunity pass without a bit of teasing – regarding your step upon my toes during our lessons – I daresay I must bring up a rather amusing memory. I cannot help but recall how you sent both Minghao and me reeling across the room, much like a pair of wayward marionettes! One can only hope that with age comes grace—or at the very least, a better sense of foot placement! If not, I shall be prepared to don the most resilient shoes in all of England.

Worry not, dear Tulip. I shall be by your side the entire season, if you shall have me (although, I am not entirely certain your dear brother will be entirely pleased by this idea).

Your most loyal servant,Seokmin

Dearest Sister,

As I sit at my desk, I cannot help but feel a mixture of pride and exasperation as I pen this letter. Our infrequent exchanges have become quite the tradition, have they not? I find it amusing that as your brother, I am often left to await your words while Seokmin is constantly regaled by your stories.

With your debut looming closer, I feel it is my solemn duty as both your brother and your Duke to remind you of the delicate nature of polite society. Your debut is not merely an occasion to don a gown and curtsy to the queen; it is a rite filled with expectations and decorum. I implore you to be mindful of the company you keep and the propriety that is expected of you as a young lady and the sister of the Duke. I have taken it upon myself to speak to Seokmin, warning him of the same – he has a habit of forgetting his own station in moments of levity.

While I know you must find these constraints stifling, know that the eyes of the ton will soon be upon you, not only assessing your beauty but also your character. You are the jewel of our family, and I trust you will shine brightly, even amidst these expectations.

Write to me when you can, dear sister, even if it is infrequent. Your musings are treasures to your dear elder brother, and I await them constantly.

With all my love, Minghao

Dearest Brother,

I say this with the utmost love and devotion:

Damn you.

(Please forgive my language, and please, do not show this letter to Mama. I fear her admonishments may never end if she hears of my vernacular)

I am acutely aware of the expectations that accompany my debut – how could I forget when both you and Mama loom over me like a pair of hawks? While I recognize your intentions, your words do little to alleviate my anxiety.

Your warning regarding Seokmin only serves to make me laugh. It is amusing, truly, to envision the Duke of Lancaster being chided by my brother on the virtues of propriety. I promise to keep my wits about me and to present myself with all the elegance expected of a young lady of my station (the sister of a Duke, no less!).

I will do my utmost to avoid a scandal – or at the very least, I shall ensure that you do not hear of it. I shall write again soon, if only to unleash more of my exasperation upon you.

Yours, in (implied) rebellion, Y/N (Sister of the Duke of Somerset)

Age 18:

On the eve of your debut, you find yourself seated on the swing in the garden of the Somerset townhome, the night cloaked in an almost palpable tension. The sounds of Mayfair filter through the stillness—a symphony of distant laughter, the soft clatter of carriages, and the occasional rustle of silk skirts—as the ton settles into slumber. The air feels electric, crackling with anticipation, as if the entire world is holding its breath, waiting for the events of the morrow to unfold.

You take a deep drag from the cigarette you swiped from Minghao’s rooms, the smoke spiraling into the night like a fleeting thought. With each inhale, you hope to drown out the anxious fluttering of your heart, a dissonant rhythm that accelerates at the mere thought of tomorrow’s debut.

“Why, Lady Xu Y/N, are you smoking?” The voice breaks through your reverie, causing you to sputter and cough, hastily attempting to conceal the cigarette behind your back. You turn to see Seokmin, leaning casually against the sturdy oak tree that secures the swing, his figure silhouetted against the moonlight.

His presence is both familiar and disarming, the boyish charm of his smile juxtaposed against the weight of his title. “No, Seokmin, I—” you stammer, flustered.

“Shove over,” he commands lightly, and before you can protest, he plucks the cigarette from your frozen grip, taking a deep, leisurely drag. The sight of him—so confident, so carefree—sets your heart racing in a way that both delights and terrifies you.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you ask incredulously, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“I was with your brother at White’s,” he replies, amusement dancing in his eyes. “It was my mistake to forget how little he can imbibe before devolving into an utter fool. I was merely making sure he returned home safely.” His tone shifts, curiosity sparkling in his gaze. “Are you excited for tomorrow?”

“Excited? Hardly,” you grumble, kicking at the scattered rocks beneath your feet. “What my heart truly desires is to run away—pack my things, flee to Paris, and open a quaint little bookstore. Perhaps live out my days as a spinster, surrounded by novels and solitude.”

Seokmin’s expression shifts, a shadow of understanding passing across his features. “We cannot always have what our hearts desire,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of sorrow as he exhales a plume of smoke. “Sometimes, we must accept that we can find happiness in what we have, not in what could have been.”

You watch the smoke dance and dissipate into the night sky, thoughts swirling as restlessly as the tendrils of fog around you.

“And you?” you ask quietly, the question escaping before you can catch it. “What does your heart desire?”

“Desired,” he corrects, taking another deep drag. “I once dreamed of being a fencer, of dueling beneath the sun. But above all, I yearned to find love.”

Your heart stutters at his admission. His thigh brushes against yours, an electric touch that feels so scandalously intimate you can hardly breathe. You suddenly become acutely aware of the nightgown you wear, the thin fabric doing little to shield you from the heat radiating from his body. If Minghao were to catch you in this moment, you are certain he would demand that Seokmin either marry you on the spot or duel him for your honor.

The very thought sends a shiver down your spine—an improper thought that both terrifies and thrills you. You are a young lady, poised to make your debut, and here you are, perched so closely to an eligible duke, the expectations of the ton looming like a dark cloud. What would society say if they were to discover you in this clandestine moment? The whispers would be deafening, your reputation in tatters, and yet… the thrill of it, the danger, pulls at you like a siren's song.

“And you believe you shall never find it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I am a Duke, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it barely pierces the night air. “Duty must come first. If there is any part of me left, which there rarely is, only then can I pursue love.”

The distance between you feels both impossibly vast and achingly close, the weight of his words pressing against you like an invisible force. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes, the unspoken longing that mirrors your own.

You hum, encouraging him to continue, yet the weight of his words presses down on your chest.

“But how fortunate am I,” he continues, his gaze piercing through the night like a beacon, “to have found such a remarkable friend who stands by me even as duty threatens to drown me where I stand.”

A friend. The word lingers between you, heavy and loaded. Is that truly all he sees you as? The realization sends your mind reeling, your heart racing in an entirely different way.

No, the trees whisper, urging you to reconsider.

Could it be…love?

That foreign sensation, long buried beneath layers of propriety and friendship, now unfurls within you, roots taking hold. You realize with a start that you have loved Seokmin, perhaps from that very first kiss on your hand all those years ago, long before you could articulate the feelings swirling in your heart.

Panic courses through you, and you leap up from the swing as if it has burned you. “It is late, Lord Lee. I must take my leave now,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “I hope you find your way home safely.”

He reaches out, his hand brushing against your wrist, and your breath hitches at the contact. “Wait,” he says, his voice low, almost laced with concern. “Are you alright? You seem... distant.”

His eyes search yours, and you feel the weight of his gaze, an anchor that both comforts and terrifies you. Your pulse quickens, a frantic rhythm echoing in your ears. What would it mean to linger here a moment longer, to let the night wrap around you like a cocoon?

But all the books you’ve read offer no preparation for the heartache that comes with knowing he regards you as merely a friend. A friend, just like your brother. You are his friend, and the shattering realization settles in: he will never love you back.

“Tulip?” he adds softly, the word a whisper that brushes against your skin like the wind.

You swallow hard, every part of you aching to give in, to lean into the connection pulsing between you. But the truth looms like a storm cloud overhead, dark and inevitable.

You love Lord Lee Seokmin, Duke of Lancaster, but he will never love you.

And with that heavy knowledge weighing on your heart, you turn to leave, every step toward your room feeling like a betrayal to the emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

You don’t sleep at all, thoughts consumed by a boy you had once known and the man you now love.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13

#seventeen fic recs #lee seokmin x reader

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