#you live in Jane Austen's house?

[arabella-strange]

and the fact that we were all born in an era where it's possible to listen to very nearly any song from any era at the drop of a hat? you can find songs you haven't heard since you were a child? songs your parents or grandparents knew that you want to learn? you can play them whenever the mood strikes, without having to know how play (or having to have access to) an instrument? you can go home from a live event and listen to a recording of the same stuff all over again? you can lie on the floor and play it outside of your own head as many times as you want? INCREDIBLY RECENT AND ACTUALLY MAGICAL STUFF imo

every now and then I get amazed by how much I love music like wow. I love music so much. music is so cool, I'm so glad music exists. music is the best thing this world has to offer and we can listen to it all the time, it's mindblowing

[daisywords]

the worst part about being a pianist is that you can't just...simply take your instrument with you

[vee-lociraptor]

every day i am filled with rage about how they turned mary shelley’s old house into a horror house

[simpxxstan]

to you (yjh one-shot)

pairing: model!jeonghan x f.reader

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst, smut (MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!)

summary: jeonghan loves to play cupid. he's thoroughly successful at it as well. you know it's just his incredible luck, and you can't wait for him to trip and fall. even if you'll be the first one to stop him from falling.

word count: 16.2k

rating: 18+

warnings: seokmin and joshua are sexually and romantically attracted to men in this fic(this is not meant to represent/imply anything from real life). infidelity (not by jeonghan or reader mc), heartbreaks, body image insecurities, bad familial relations, jeonghan comes from a rich family, slight love triangle between jeonghan and mingyu, jeonghan is slightly self-centred, joshua is a mean guy and breaks hearts. smut warnings: oral sex (m. receiving), nipple play, protected sex.

a/n: this fic is largely inspired by jane austen's emma. it's an amazing book so pls do read/watch the tv renditions (personally recommend the 2009 bbc version). if you are familiar with, you might think of this fic as somewhat from mr. knightley's pov. i've not kept the plot exactly same ofc, but there are a lot of similarities. hope you enjoy reading it! your feedback, likes and reblogs make my day <333

One fine morning, when you were busy harvesting the freshly grown radish from your backyard, a boy who was about as tall as you and had a mop of brown hair that made you cross because it was so unkempt, peeped from the other side of the backyard gate. He was waving at you, and had a bright smile on his face. 

“Who are you?” You asked, with as much courage as you could, for a five year old. 

“Hello! I'm Yoon Jeonghan!”

“Why are you here?” 

He stuttered, and pointed his hand to the big mansion that marked the otherwise quiet locality as posh, the landmark for all delivery people, and the pride of the neighbourhood. “I live there!”

“Yaah! You're not allowed here.”

“Why?” He pouts.

“I'm busy now. I can't entertain guests.”

“What are you doing? That's what I came to see!” He's smiling again. 

“Harvesting radish that I planted last month!”

“Really?! Wow! You're a farmer!”

You smile with a little bit of pride. “Yaah! How many rooms do you have in your house? Eomma says you have 10  rooms!”

“No…” he pauses, and you're hopeful that he'll just prove your mom was merely exaggerating. “There are 14 rooms!” He then continues, making you even more annoyed.

“Yaah! Then why don't you go live there! Why are you disturbing me!”

“You haven't even told me your name. Why are you being like a mean Ahjumma!” He whined and slapped the gate once. 

“I don't tell strangers my name!”

“Okay keep your secret name.”

“Yes. Now go to your big house.”

“I don't want to! I don't like it! I want to live in your house!”

You're really angry now. First he disturbs you, and then tries to steal your house too! “Yaah! You're a bad guy!”

“No! I really like cozy houses like yours.”

“But when I grow up, I want to live in a big house like yours.”

“No! I want to live in a house like yours. Cozy and warm.”

“You're crazy Yoon Jeonghan.”

He smiles sweetly, before making a tiny heart with his fingers, making you cringe. 

“Won't you let me in, friend?”

“You're not my friend.”

“Aaah…. Right. I must be your Oppa!”

“Oppa? Yaah!”

“What a rude dongsaengie, aigoo! How old are you?”

“I'm not your dongsaeng!”

“No! You are! I was born in 1995. You?”

You bite your lip when you realise you indeed are younger to him.

“Just because I was born in 1997 doesn't mean I'm your dongsaeng. You'll always be Yoon Jeonghan to me!”

He shrugged before giggling. “It's okay, dongsaengie. We can be informal like friends!” He throws another heart at you, and you cringe again.

“Now will you go home or will I call my mom to shoo you out?” Your hands are on your hips. 

“No! I'll leave then. Bye bye chinguya! See you tomorrow, Y/N-ie!”

You huff as you see him skip along the road and enter the gate of his-

Wait. Did he just say your name? 

_

And that was how, twenty years ago, you had met Yoon Jeonghan. And your friendship had stuck along, surprisingly (to you, not to him. He always nodded smugly and very knowingly, as if he knew something more about the secret to how you two had tolerated each other for so long. And you wouldn't be surprised to know he did know more. He always did.)

You had thought to yourself many times. Maybe because you and Jeonghan were the perfect yin and yang. There was enough pride from your end to make up for his shamelessness. Enough street-smartness and easygoing charm from him to make up for your coquettish, brisk attitude. Enough ambition from you to make up for his laidback, lazy nature. Enough laughs from him to make up for your forever anxious self. Enough optimism from you to share the light between the two of you. 

Just like that. You clicked like puzzle pieces, and you loved each other to bits.

Well, mostly.

You certainly didn't love Jeonghan any bit when he was behaving like this. This Cupid thing he adorned whenever he was around people of your age. His matchmaking and romantic agenda, as you liked to call it. It was nothing but a stroke of luck that his brother had married the exact girl that Jeonghan had predicted he would marry (three years before they had started dating, as he reminded you often to prove that it was truly his instinct and nothing else) and the silly fool had taken it straight to his dick and given his already large ego an extra-large pump.

His latest prey was Lee Seokmin, the new boy who had recently joined your friend circle, courtesy of Kim Mingyu, who was his childhood friend somehow. Seokmin was what one could call a young, impressionable mind. He was innocent to an extreme degree, and so illogical and gullible that he believed every damn thing that came out of Jeonghan's compulsively bluffing lips. You hardly knew what he was telling Seokmin, but they were both very animated while talking about it. Ever since you two had met Seokmin at a party three weeks ago, he had followed Jeonghan about like a puppy discovering the joys (and pains) of the human world, and Jeonghan had pretty much adopted him. 

So you take matters into your own hands. When you bump into him in the kitchen of the party you two are at now, you whisper to him, your hands on your hips, “Jeonghan, if I see you mess around with that kid-”

“Which kid?” He asks, an innocent look on his face. “Don’t play innocent now. You know very well I’m talking about Seokmin.” “Aigoo, Seokminnie! He’s such a lovely boy!” “Yes, and we’d all like him to remain lovely, if you please. Don’t go around putting foolish ideas into his head.”

“What foolish ideas?” 

“Jeonghan, I know you’re trying to set him up with Joshua. You know Joshua is a textbook playboy.”

 “Shhh! I think this one’s different. He’s actually bewitched with Seokmin.”

“Bewitched? You’re exaggerating, as usual.”

“Y/N!! You’ve gotta trust me, I have a gut feeling. Now, let me do God’s work, please don’t disturb me, Y/N-”

“Matchmaking is God’s work?”

“Yes! It’s called finding soulmates!”

“And how are you so sure Seokmin is into Joshua?”

Jeonghan pauses, smiling slyly. “Oh my god. You don’t know that yet, do you?” “No, but-” “Jeonghan!” “I know that he’s into guys. Listen, it’s not like I’m forcing him into anything. All I want is that he has some fun in his life! Can you believe it that he’s never had a relationship in his life? He’s too much of a good boy. And he’s told me he thinks Joshua is pretty attractive. The whole gentleman thing is rubbing off on him!” “I have a bad feeling about this.” “You know what, Y/N? You think you’re the only one who can do things correctly. You and your stuck up judgements. Can you please open your mind a little and let loose?”

There. He’s guilt-tripped you successfully. Now you’re on the verge of thinking whether you’re really stuck up. Under better senses, you probably would lean on your instinct that Jeonghan is messing around with you, but now, no. You’re three wine glasses down, and you’re a lightweight anyway. The insecurities have started kicking in.

“Anyway, why are you so protective?”

“I’m not,” you cross your hands across your chest, exhausted from the banter.

“It’s ‘cause of that Mingyu guy, isn’t it? You want to protect Mingyu’s friends?” He’s walking up to you, smiling again, as wicked as the devil. 

“What? I can’t care about a nice guy all on my own? What are you implying-”

“Please. We’ve all seen how you talk to Mingyu.”

“God. I’m so tired of this, Jeonghan.” And so, you walk away. You really are too tired. You’ve seen his brain do acrobats in this one field, and although he may have had successes till now, you’re sure doom is on the way. It’s sickening. Especially now that he’s pushing his agenda on you too. 

_

You’re woken up at six am in the morning to the irritating sound of your ringtone. Squinting, you pick the phone up. It’s Jeonghan. 

“Hello?”

“Were you sleeping, Y/N-ie?”

You pause. You seriously consider cutting the call off right now, because you know that tone. That is Jeonghan’s laidback tone, he’s not in an emergency, he’s not in a crisis. He’s called just to hear your voice, and you’ve been on the receiving end of too many calls like this in your life. 

“Jeonghan, what do you want?”

“Are you still pissed at me?” He’s pouting and you know it.

“Yaah,” you huff out, sitting up in your bed. “I’m not. Just. It’s 6 am for fuck’s sake, Hannie. Did you need anything?”

He’s silent for a second. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine.”

“I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t fall asleep, and the rain outside keeps making me tense. I decided to call you because I was feeling a little lonely.”

“Hmm. Do I need to come over?”

“Hell no. I have a girl over. She’s naked, and I don’t think you’ll want to see-”

“Wait, what? You have a person at your house?”

“Yeah, we slept together-”

“Then why the fuck are you awake?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you awake and calling me?”

“Umm, because I was thinking of you when I couldn’t sleep?”

“Don’t people, like, sleep very well after sex?”

“After good sex, yes. After what we did last night, no.”

Another pause. 

“Not that I’d know. But isn’t she going to feel upset you’re talking to me instead of, I don’t know, cuddling her or something?”

“Really, Y/N-ie. You want me to cuddle a stranger instead of talking to you? That’s how much you hate me?”

“Han, do not twist my words. You stayed up all night hooking up with someone and now you’re calling me, this is not how people behave after sex in movies-”

“Life isn’t a movie, Y/N-aah. You’ve told me this yourself.”

A slightly long pause.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he says. 

“No, I’ll just get into the shower now. I had to wake up at 7 anyway.”

“Ugh, but it’s a Monday!”

“Adults work on Mondays, Hannie. Why don’t you take a walk in the park or something and relax a bit? Work out. Get the energy out. It’ll improve your sleep.”

“Hmm, thank you Eomma. Enjoy your long day of work today! Make sure you earn a lot of money!”

“Hmm, bye bye Yoon.”

“Bye Y/L/N.”

The call disconnects and 6.15 stares at you from your screen. You’re tempted to scream into your pillow and curse Jeonghan for stealing your sleep time. But now you can’t afford to go back to sleep otherwise you’ll lose one of your precious 20 days of leave as well. The opportunity cost is definitely higher, you think, as you stumble and make your way towards the washroom.

_

“Oh Mr. Mingyu, someone’s early I see.” You enter the small office which is bustling with energy even in the morning. “Ms. Y/N, good morning!” Mingyu greets you with a bright smile as you sit down at the desk next to him, and you offer the second cup of ice americano you brought on your way. “Coffee?” “Of course, why not?” And his accented English never ceases to make you laugh. It’s funny how hard he tries to converse in English, even though it’s not even required in your job, but you guess it’s part of his charm- the hard-working good-natured himbo everyone is in love with. 

“How was your weekend? You didn’t come to the party at Soonyoung’s party last night.” You ask Mingyu. “Oh, my sister is in town. I went to pick her up from the train station last week and we spent the entire evening roaming through night markets.” “That sounds nice! Maybe I can meet her finally, after hearing so much about her.” “Yes! That’d be good. She’s here till Thursday. She’s actually here for an interview at a college for the designing program she wants to pursue.” Mingyu’s eyes are lit up with the brightest lights, putting even the sunlight in the room to shame. “Wow! I’m so happy for her.” “Yeah. Are you free tomorrow after work? I wanted to take her to see the cherry blossoms, and you could come too?” “Perfect. That works.”

Mingyu nods happily, before settling down in his seat, still buzzing with excitement. His puppy-like buzzing is endearing, but you quickly turn your eyes away from him, when you notice at least three other pairs of eyes staring at you from across the room. You gulp and glare back, and the eyes look away. You’re well aware of the gossip that surrounds your and Mingyu’s friendship, but you couldn’t care less. As long as it doesn’t interfere in your actual friendship. 

_

“Cherry blossoms? With his sister? Absolutely not!” 

“I didn’t really ask for your opinion, Jeonghan-ah.” You stare him down from where you are sitting across him with the chess board in between you two, and he takes a sip from his juice before playing his next move. 

“You don’t think it’s a date?” 

“A date? With his sister along, how could it be a date!” 

“You’re too oblivious. You can’t see what’s right in front of your eyes.” 

“And what may that be?” 

“Kim Mingyu is, obviously, into you.” 

“Excuse me.” “Excused,” he scoffs, before motioning to you to speed up your next move. You play your move too quickly, and he jumps up in glee, instantly locking you in checkmate. “Fuck!” 

“Pay attention, cutie. Do you want more juice?” 

“Hmm, it’s really good, Hannie.” “I know,” he giggles, before pouring more juice into your glasses. “I want to see cherry blossoms too. I’ll come along with you three, hmm? I’m sure Mingyu won’t mind.” 

You peer curiously at him. “Okay. Yeah, he won’t mind. But I didn’t know you wanted to see the cherry blossoms.” 

“I saw it in my feed today. It’s all the rage right now.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Which is why I’m sure it’s a date. It’s what happens in all k-dramas!”

You can’t argue with Jeonghan, so you don’t. 

“You know, I think it is a little odd that you think Mingyu is into me. We’re really just good friends. I know he’s a little flirty, and very touchy, but that’s just him being comfortable around me.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “My instinct about humans is always better than yours, Y/N-ie. You know it.” “Sure.” “Let’s just wait and see how things turn out, hmm?” He gently pulls your hair back into a bun using a hair tie that’s wrapped around his wrist, and you whisper a thank you, because you hate it when your hair is in your face, and you didn’t realise that he knows about it. Well, you must’ve talked about it sometime or the other.

“Do you want takeout, or should I just make some omelette to mix into rice?” “Or we could just eat ramen.” “I thought you were on a diet, Han-ah?” You gape at him, and he pulls a face. “One cup of ramen won’t do anything.” “No, let’s stick to your diet, hmm? Because we won’t stop at just one cup of ramen, you know that.” He gently places his head on your shoulder in mock crying, and you pat his head before heading towards the fridge to take out eggs. 

“By the way, I have a fair coming up next week, will you come to help me?”

“What will I get in return?” He asks, while popping an olive into his mouth. 

“My friendship. My gratitude. My love and affection-”

“Tangible, please. None of this intangible stuff.” 

You gasp dramatically and relent, “Okay, I’ll treat you to tteokbokki. You’ve been craving ever since your diet started, haven’t you?” He makes an inhuman squeal, but you’re sure it’s one of joy because his eyes go up in twinkling crescents. “Oh, Y/N-ie, you’re the best! What would I do without you?” You laugh, and ask him to turn on the television, before breaking the eggs into your fry pan.

_

It was a mistake telling Jeonghan about your outing with Mingyu. It was a mistake even letting him come along, thinking oh, Mingyu is his mutual friend too through me, so he’ll definitely not mind if Han comes along. Mingyu did not mind, but you minded a lot. Because not only did Jeonghan come along wearing his most expensive Chanel outfit and his most limited edition perfume which you’ve never smelled before, but also brought along his most obnoxious attitude. 

Mingyu’s sister is an innocent darling, nearly six years younger than Mingyu, but his literal split image. And Mingyu is, as usual, accommodative. But there really is something wrong with Jeonghan tonight, you think. Every sentence he utters is passive aggressive, opinionated and designed to annoy. 

I think the air is too stuffy tonight to enjoy the cherry blossom show perfectly. 

I’m wearing my cherry blossom scent tonight, it was a gift from the last event I attended.

Mingyu, don’t hog Y/N all to yourself, let your sister meet your friends too. 

Oh, I don’t drink coffee these days. I’m into earl grey iced tea. Do they have that here?

“What on earth is wrong with you tonight, Jeonghan-ah?” You whisper-scream to him, as you draw him to one corner as Mingyu and his sister go towards the cafeteria to buy drinks for the four of you. “Why?” He says, casually pressing lip balm on his own lips, before extending the stick towards your lips, attempting to put the same balm on your (undoubtedly, chapped) lips, but you shrug away. 

“You’re being an arse. You know, it’s already a stretch that I brought you along here. So, don’t be obnoxious to everyone, especially Mingyu because his sister’s here!” 

“I’ve not been obnoxious for even a second, Y/N-ah! I’ve been so cheerful, so amiable, so wholesome tonight. I have not spoken my true mind for even one second, I’m literally speaking only pleasant words.”

“Oh, really? And what is your true mind?”

“That Mingyu is being too touchy with you.”

“Jeonghan! This- god- is that all you gathered from our lovely evening together, that you’re trying your best to spoil?”

“I mean- he makes it hard to not notice, does he not? He’s literally all over you, even when his sister is here. You should be thankful I’m here to keep company to his sis, otherwise imagine how bored she’d be as a third wheel.”

Right then Mingyu and his sister return with drinks for the four of you, and you resume your walk around the show. So you can’t reply to Jeonghan fittingly, but you notice that on the rest of the evening, you notice that his attitude has softened a little, especially when he talks enthusiastically to Mingyu’s sister about the program she’s selected, and even thanks Mingyu for letting him come along on this outing. 

When he drives you home that night and drops you off at your doorstep, he has the oddest smug grin lazily spread on his face. 

“I was right, then.” He tells you as you walk around the car to say bye to him at his window.

“Hmm?”

“It was a date.”

“Not this again, Jeonghan.”

“Hmm. Sure. Just so you know, I’m rarely wrong.”

“It was not a date. Not with you ruining every single conversation we had.”

“That was the point, wasn’t it? Goodnight, Y/N.” 

And then he drives off with a sharp salute, leaving you with nothing to say. 

_

Jeonghan doesn’t know you’re annoyed enough by him to not reply to his texts during work hours (which you otherwise would). So he doesn’t take the hint and calls you as soon as your work hours end, and you step out of your office into a world painted by the sunset.

“You didn’t say if my haircut looks good?”

You sigh, and you hope it’s loud enough for him to hear.

“Oh god, Y/N, are you still mad at me for that evening with Mingyu? What, did he say something today?” 

“No. He’s too nice to say anything, of course. Anyway, is it really so hard to wait for a few hours to see if I like your haircut or not?”

“Sorry. But I want to know. I’ve cut my hair short after ages, so-”

You take a quick look at the photos he’s sent you. “Hmm, yes you look great.”

“Really?” You can hear the upward lilt in his voice, and it makes you smile. 

“Yes really. Jeonghan-ah, I have that fair tomorrow. Will you be coming?”

“Is it through Saturday and Sunday?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to come throughout the two days, of course. You can just come tomorrow evening, if you’re free.”

“I am. I had a shoot today in the afternoon, after which I went and chopped off my hair instantly.”

“Good decision, Hannie.”

You can hear his satisfied voice grunt in the background. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow? I have a lot of packing work tonight, okay? I won’t be able to call or text.”

“That’s okay. I won’t disturb you. Work hard, Y/N-ie.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Han-ah.”

_

Although you might grumble when Jeonghan forgets the name of the plant when a customer arrives at your stall although he’s been your helper for so many fairs now, you’re really very grateful that he makes time to come. Sure enough, as the sun wears down after a particularly sweltering afternoon at the fair and you’re really craving an iced tea, Jeonghan arrives with a bright smile on his face and two glasses of boba tea for the two of you. 

“Your part-timer is here, Miss.” He says, and you hug him. “So happy to see me?” “No, this is for the boba tea.” And you fall back on your chair, chugging down the boba tea as if it’s elixir. He sits opposite to you, picking up an orchid plant that’s hanging on the wall next to him. “How was the footfall today?” “Not great, if I say the truth. But I’m hopeful for the evening. The morning was too hot anyway.” “Hmm, and what’s this one called? Never seen this flower before.” “It’s called vanda. Pretty, isn’t it?” “Hmm, really! But why doesn’t it have any pot or any soil?” “It’s epiphytic, so-” “Epi what?” “Epiphytic. It absorbs moisture from other plants near it and from humidity in the air.” “Wow. E-pi-phy-tic. Fancy new English word.” 

And you’re right. The customers do start strolling in as the atmosphere becomes cooler and the fair more crowded. Although there’s not a whole lot of variety at your stall, you have an edge because you generally sell rare varieties, which are less frequently visible in the other plants’ stalls at fairs. A lot of people think it’s an odd hobby for you to have at such a young age, but Jeonghan knows its the only way you pay homage to your mother, who had helped you fall in love with gardening at a very young age. After her death, you’d had to sell the house in the countryside and move to the city for a job, so you didn’t have a garden of your own, but you made do with plants you grew in your balconies and windows. That’s why your collection was more unique than the general lot- you provided beautiful, rare plants that fit right into modern life- fuss-free yet diverse. 

“This is a vanda orchid!” You see Jeonghan enthusiastically pitch to an ahjumma from the corner of your eye as you’re busy packing some hydrangea plants for another customer. “It’s really easy to keep in your house. It’s epiphytic, which means it absorbs water from its surroundings. So you don’t even need to keep it in a pot. You can just leave it in between other plants and regularly water the plants around it to keep a humid atmosphere, and it grows on its own! So little care!” And along with Jeonghan’s winning smile and persistent pitch, the ahjumma has no option but to fold almost instantly. 

That marks the beginning of a busy evening. The crowd suddenly increases and each of you soon have no time to breathe. It’s at moments like this that your gratitude towards Jeonghan increases- he may ask you the names of plants every two minutes, or make up some random facts about a plant while trying to sell it (pretty sure it would be called out if you did it, but the customers just blindly buy into whatever Jeonghan tells them). When passing behind, he gently pats your butt before bending behind you to retrieve something from the storage area. When you’re free for a second, you tap your hand on the small of his back, asking him to take a break as you take over the customers. It’s nearly nine o’clock before the crowd finally dissipates and you both can take a breather. 

“Good work, Han.” You gently card your fingers through Jeonghan’s newly trimmed hair. 

“Boy, am I glad I cut my hair before coming here. I’d sweat the hell out just by standing here with my old hair.”

“Hmm, it is much more manageable.”

There’s a pause as you both become silent for a long minute. From around you, you can see other stalls shutting down and the sounds of the fair quieten down. Your fingers form a pattern as you gently massage his scalp and his lower neck. You’re too busy taking in the scenery around you that you miss the way his eyes flutter close. 

“I had brunch with mom today.”

You sigh. 

“It felt good to show my new hair.” 

You turn around to look at him, and he opens his eyes. “What did she say?” 

“Nothing. She doesn’t say anything anymore, as long as I keep my hair for her shoots.”

“But it’s still hot outside.”

Jeonghan mumbles, “When has that mattered for her?” He turns away and suddenly gets up. “Y/N-ah, all the other stalls have shut down. Shouldn’t we pack up too? And anyway, the tteokbokki place won’t be open for long…” 

You laugh, and relent. “Okay, let’s feed the baby his treat, hmm? Thank you for coming and helping me out! It was pretty hectic today and we made a lot of sales, thanks to your charms that even the ahjussis cannot resist.” 

He smiles, “Well, what can I say, it’s not easy to be God’s favourite-” He can’t finish his sentence because you punch him softly on his chest, and he bursts out in giggles. “Let’s go get food, Han-ah.” “Hmm, let’s go!”

_

“Hannie, are you free tonight? There was an offer at the convenience store, so I bought two boxes of that pizza you like.” You ask him while you walk into your home after picking up groceries from the store. 

“Nah, I have plans with Seokmin today.”

“Seokmin?!” You ask, a little surprised. “You two are going out together? Wow, I didn’t know you were so close.”

“Oh! We’re inseparable. He’s too fun a guy to let go.”

You sigh. “Wow. Okay okay, enjoy, hmm?”

“Yeah. Do you wanna come? Shua will be there too.”

“Shua?! You’ve started again!”

“Literally no,” you can hear his laughter, and he says, “I didn’t even know Shua would be there until like an hour ago.”

“I bet the plan was made only an hour ago.”

He laughs again, “I’ll have to go now, okay? I’ll be late otherwise.”

It turns out to be a very high-end party of models in which Jeonghan has been invited, and he’s brought Seokmin as his plus-one. You get all this information from the news tabloids on your instagram, which flash extra-large sized photographs of Jeonghan and his new friend Seokmin, who everyone’s curious about. You then see stills of Joshua laughing away, dressed to the nines, arm-in-arm with Seokmin and Jeonghan. Of Joshua whispering something into Seokmin’s ears and Seokmin turning red even under the dim neon lights of the party. Of Joshua and Seokmin making an intense eye-contact, and Jeonghan smirking over his glass of whisky. 

Wow. 

His plan must be a success. Seokmin and Joshua do look like they’re going to hook up. 

Well, you’re just going to have to take the details from Jeonghan later, if that happens. 

You don’t stay online after that, so you miss all the photos of the late entrants of the party. 

_

It’s seven in the morning, and you’ve just woken up, when there’s a knock on your door. “Jeonghan?” Not only is he standing there with his eyes red and his clothes messed up, but you can also see hickeys blooming all over his neck, in shades of purple and red that look pretty against his milk skin. 

“I came here to see if I’m alive.”

You tilt your head towards one side, raising your eyebrows. “You seem alive to me.”

“Good, because I’ve gone to heaven and come back.” And without another word he enters and throws himself face-down on the couch and passes out instantly. 

You don’t wait around for him to wake up, and you figure his metaphorical statements can be cleared up after you’ve come back from work, so you leave him like that.

When you’re back, tired after a long day of work, you see him still lying there, except he’s changed that one shirt and sweatpants he’d left at your place a few months back, at your last sleepover, and he’s watching something on his phone. When you peer close from behind him, he doesn’t even notice you. Which is odd because Jeonghan is usually an alert sort of guy. 

It’s a video of a woman interacting with Jeonghan at last night’s party, her dress a blaze of flames, her dark hair falling in cascades around her lithe frame, and she giggles elegantly at something Jeonghan says, before he takes her hand in his own and kisses on her knuckles, and the video cuts off right there. 

“Who’s that?”

Jeonghan jolts up at that, dropping his phone on the ground, and letting out a tiny yelp. Then he sits up and lightly punches your arm. “You scared me.”

“I literally came in through the door, what if I was a thief and you hadn’t even noticed me?”

“Why would a thief come into your house, what are you doing for its security, huh?”

“God,” you sigh. “I see you’ve made yourself at home. Who were you looking at?”

He walks towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

“Heaven. I went to heaven last night.”

“Yes, you told me. What happened, can you explain simply?”

“I met her. That’s what happened.”

“Who?” you ask again, ignoring the dazed look in his eyes as he looks out of the window. 

“Her! Did you see her?”

“I did. Is she famous? Am I supposed to be knowing her?”

“Well. I don’t know. I don’t think you would know her. I mean, I’ve never met her before then clearly, you wouldn’t know her-”

“Then tell me who she is.”

“Han Sujin. She’s the daughter of the owner of Han Electronics.”

“Really? Wow. Must be filthy rich.”

“Is that all you gathered?” Jeonghan turns around to look at you incredulously, and you retort, “Well what else is there to gather?” “Maybe the fact that she looks like an angel?” “She does look gorgeous. Did you sleep with her last night?” Jeonghan sighs. “No. I slept with someone else, but I’ve not been able to get her out of my mind! This has never happened before!” 

You stare at him. “You’re right, it has not.” 

“Am I falling in love, Y/N?” 

“I don’t… know? It’s a little too early to say, isn’t it?” 

“I’ve been dreaming about her for twenty four hours now, I’m pretty damn sure it’s love.”

You gulp, realising he’s not going to hear your voice of reason now. So you switch the topic. “What happened with Shua and Seokminnie?”

“Huh?”

“Joshua? Seokmin? You set them up last night, I know.”

“Oh that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “That went well, as far as I remember. Well, I didn’t really notice them much after she came in. They went off to get drinks, Joshua’s hand was gripping Seokmin’s bicep very suggestively, so I’m sure that went well.”

“You were so blown away by this woman that you missed out on your little pet project?”

“Shame, isn’t it? But no matter. I’ll call Seokmin tomorrow and find out about it. Y/N-ah, do you know anything more about Sujin?”

“I literally just told you I don’t even know her-”

“Ugh! I have to meet her again, somehow!” And he lets out a dramatic huff of exasperation before lying down on the couch again. 

_

“Seokmin?” You’re surprised to see Seokmin at Jeonghan’s place when you drop by on Friday night. “Y/N! Jeonghan didn’t tell me you’re coming.” “Nah I just came by on an impulse. What are you doing here?” He stands up, his face red with excitement. “Joshua invited me to his housewarming party!” He pauses for a second, waiting for your reaction. He’s clearly expecting a very happy reaction, so you humour him with a bright smile. He doesn’t see how fake the smile is, and he claps his hands with yours. “Oh, isn’t it going to be so much fun, Y/N-ah?”

Just then Jeonghan walks into the room, and calls out your name. 

“Did you hear? Seokmin is in the circle now!”

“Yes, that’s pretty cool. But then, who wouldn’t want Seokmin as their friend,” you smile. 

“Not friend, Y/N. Seokmin is Joshua’s specially invited guest. He sent roses with the invitation!” 

There’s another loud squeal from behind you and you turn to see Seokmin rubbing his face with his hands, making it even more red than it is already. 

“I saw y’all had fun at that last party.”

His blush goes down till his neck and collarbones. “Yes, it was such a high-end party. There actors, models, singers, idols, and chaebols everywhere! And the food was so awesome- although I’ve never eaten any of them before and I don’t think I’d be able to eat them anywhere else because they looked too fancy.”

You giggle. “But would you go back a second time?”

Seokmin thinks for a second, before whispering scandalously, “If Joshua wasn’t there, I don’t think I would.” 

You laugh at that, extending your hand for a high-five. “Same! They get boring after a point because I simply cannot fit in.”

“That’s true! Although Joshua introduced me to so many people, I don’t think I could make eye contact with any of them.” 

You continue laughing at that. “But I gather you really had a good time with Joshua.”

Jeonghan intercepts. “Good time?” He scoffs. “They made out in the backseat of my car.”

Seokmin whines at Jeonghan’s slightly strict voice, “We didn’t have any other spot because I came with y-”

Jeonghan laughs, “I’m not mad, hey! It’s just funny that Joshua chose to make out in my car and not his-”

“That’s because his car was farther away and the valet took longer to bring it along.”

Seokmin gets a call and he excuses himself for a second. You take that opportunity to turn around and look at Jeonghan, who’s sitting right behind you. “So?” You raise one eyebrow, “Looks like your plan will come through.” “When am I ever wrong?” “But be careful, this is first-” “Oh god. Even after coming so far, you’re going to ask me to be cautious?” “ Because you need to be. Seokmin is such a soft soul- do you see how excited he is just by receiving flowers from Joshua?”

Jeonghan stands up. “But I don’t recollect Joshua ever sending flowers to anyone before. And I’ve known Joshua for long enough, you know.”

You sigh, twisting your lips in displeasure. 

“Still. I just don’t want anyone’s hearts to be broken by your meddling.”

_

An invite arrives at your house as well. There are no roses, but at least some beautiful gerberas. But Jeonghan’s meddling does not stop. Nor does it slow down in pace. Before Joshua’s housewarming party, Jeonghan ensures that Seokmin and Joshua bump into each other at least three times. First, on Monday, at the coffee shop Joshua and Jeonghan often eat brunch together after hungover weekends. Second, on Tuesday, at a pop-up store Joshua has been invited to inaugurate. Third, on Friday, at Jeonghan’s mother’s flagship store, where Joshua was invited to browse through the latest collections at the same time that Seokmin was taken by Jeonghan to choose an outfit he’d like for the housewarming party. 

It’s getting a little too forced. Seokmin doesn’t see it because of his rose-tinted glasses of infatuation. Jeonghan doesn’t see it because he’s desperate for success. But you do see it. Seoul is not a small city. It’s incredibly hard to run into the same person three times in the same week, right after making out with them. But you also know that Jeonghan will turn a deaf ear to any of your words now. 

So you don’t broach this topic of conversation for the rest of the week, until the day of the housewarming party. As always, you’re never too sure of what to wear to any of these parties of Jeonghan’s friends, because you’re sure all these models have their secret dress codes planned and you always seem out of place. It’s not that you don’t enjoy dressing up, and you also have the advantage of being able to borrow dresses from Jeonghan’s mother. But somehow, you never fit in. Or perhaps you don’t try hard enough and you don’t want to put in that much effort either. So you settle for a baby blue dress with little yellow butterflies embroidered throughout. It’s a safe bet for a cocktail party, so you’re hoping it’s not going to be a wild night. 

Jeonghan arrives at your door right when you’re about to leave for the party.

“We’re going together?”

“Have we ever not gone together?”

You open your lips to say that you had thought he’d be going with Seokmin, but he interrupts you. “You look good.” You notice that he’s wearing a grey silk blouse that fits him like a glove, paired with golden earrings. “So do you.”

“The paparazzi are saying I would look better with my old hair.” He bites his lips and averts your gaze. 

“Where did they see you?” 

“Oh, I was getting out of my house. There were a few people outside.” 

“The paparazzi don’t matter.”

“Yes. They don’t matter. But for what it’s worth- they’re not lying.”

You sigh. “Let’s go, Han-ah. We don’t want to be late.” You’re well aware of the insecurities Jeonghan has about his hair, so you don’t want to say anything more. You remember all the times when Jeonghan’s cried next to you because his mother is obsessed with him having perfect looks, because she knows very well that her designer brand blew up ever since Jeonghan started modelling for it. You also remember Jeonghan being bullied by boys in high school because of his long hair, in response to which you’d cut your hair to a crew cut, making an odd visual when you both walked through school corridors. You know that the reason that Jeonghan spends so much time at your house in spite of having his own house, is because he wants to be as far away from his mother as possible, who only sees him as a source of revenue. And you’ve tried but given up trying to mend his relationship with her, primarily because Jeonghan’s mother disapproves of his friendship with you and considers you as the reason why her son does not listen to her. 

“Wow. Joshua has spent a lot, clearly.”

The penthouse is absolutely stunning. Definitely as expected from South Korea’s top model. The guest list seems to be hand-picked, with the paparazzi stopped outside the gates, providing full privacy to the guests. And yet again, you’ve dressed quite differently from what everyone is wearing. You’re now fully convinced that there’s a secret dress code that they don’t tell non-celebrities to purposely make them feel left out. 

But Joshua is the perfect host. He greets you almost as soon as you two enter, successfully avoiding all the cameras flashing at the entrance. 

“It’s so beautiful. Love the asymmetric design, and all the glass detailing outside.”

Joshua smiles that disarmingly charming smile of his, as you sip on the glass of champagne. “I’m so glad you liked it. Now that I’ve impressed someone in the housing industry, I know I’ve invested in the right property.” 

“You certainly have. The view is also idyllic, displaced from the general crowds, but you still get a view of the Han.” 

Jeonghan groans next to you, clearly bored with the talk, but Joshua’s smile widens at the praise. 

“I’d like you to come around someday in the morning, when the sun is still up. The view is even more spectacular.”

“So cool, I’d be able to see the design even better then! Thanks. You know Mingyu, my colleague? He’d really appreciate the design.”

“Oh yeah, he did praise it highly.” 

You pause for a second. “Sorry- he- he’s seen it already? Did he design it, by any chance?” 

Joshua laughs. “No, but he’s here as Seokmin’s plus-one.”

You turn to look at Jeonghan, who also looks at you at the exact same moment, eyes wide. “Wow, I did not know that,” you gulp, before laughing the embarrassment off awkwardly. 

“Yeah, they’re up near the mini-bar. Now, if you’ll just excuse me-” and Joshua walks away with a polite smile, waving hi to someone in the distance.

“I did not see that coming.” Jeonghan says. “Seokmin must’ve lost his nerve and brought him along. Good, now Joshua will be more jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Didn’t you see how Joshua’s smile tightened when he talked about Mingyu?”

You stare at Jeonghan for a solid second, before looking away because he did not break the gaze, determined to prevail. 

“Let’s go and find Mingyu and Seokmin, hmm?”

_

You do stick to Mingyu’s side throughout the evening, as Jeonghan goes out to mingle and Seokmin is soon called to Joshua’s side as they go to see the other side of the house. 

“Wanna bet?”

You’re stuffing your mouth with the croutons on the cheese fondue plate you’d received along with your glasses of wine, while Mingyu ravishes the delicately baked egg tarts he’s seemed to fall in love with. 

“On what, Gyu?”

You were wrong earlier. Seokmin and Mingyu do not look out of place. Seokmin is wearing an all black outfit, the shirt with a low neck which accentuates his excellent figure, while Mingyu wears a charcoal grey turtleneck and glasses, which you’ve never seen him wear before except when he’s working on something intently. They both look exactly in place, especially Mingyu. You’ve noticed multiple people send flirtatious smiles towards Mingyu, but he keeps his eyes on yours while the two of you talk at the edge of the bar. 

“On Joshua and Seokmin. I bet that they’ll be dating by the end of the month.”

You laugh. “Sure. What do you want if you win?”

“I don’t know. Loser takes the other out to dinner?”

“Cool. But Mingyu… by the end of the month… you may be short on cash.”

“Me?! Hah! I’m not going to lose. Have you seen how Joshua’s undressing Seokmin with his eyes?”

You tilt your head in amusement. “Did you know that lust does not equate dating?”

“I do! But Seokmin isn't the type of guy to like someone based on lust purely.”

“I agree. But Joshua might just be.”

Mingyu squints his eyes, then shakes his head. “I doubt. He sent roses, you know. That can only mean one thing.”

“We’ll see.” You clink your glass to Mingyu’s before sipping it. Your eyes trace the large lawn area to see if you can spot Jeonghan, but it’s hard to find him under the dim lights. Thank god for Mingyu, you think. Otherwise you’d be bored to death tonight, and drink yourself to death on the open bar. 

“Say, Mingyu. Who do you think will get married earlier from our friends? We’re all pushing thirty now, you know.”

“Twenty-five isn’t pushing thirty.” He pouts, clearly upset at the idea. “I don’t want to be called an ahjussi anytime soon so don’t say things like that.”

You pinch his cheek, which deflates his pout into a smile. “My question still stands.”

“Well, I think Seungcheol will get married first. He’s really smitten with his girlfriend, I don’t see why they’re not married yet.”

“Hmm, I agree. He’s the oldest amongst us as well.”

“By that metric, Jeonghan would be married next. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Do you think Jeonghan would ever? He’s told me many times that he's not interested in settling down.”

“That’s all big talk. Going to change the second he meets someone he likes. And from what I hear, that may not be too far-”

“Oh here you are!” The man in question arrives at the spot, cheeks flushed with excitement. There’s a woman walking right behind him. It’s her, you realise. The girl from that night, the girl he was so desperate to meet again. So he has met her again, you see. 

“Sujin, this is my best friend, Y/L/N  Y/N, and her colleague, Kim Mingyu.” You do a light bow, while the woman in front of you smiles elegantly while bowing in return. “I’m Han Sujin. Such a pleasure to meet you two. Are you also in the modelling world, Mingyu-ssi?” 

Oh. 

You don’t miss how her question is directed to Mingyu only. 

Mingyu grins, “No, I’m an architect. Y/N and I work for a housing estate firm.”

“Oh? Such a shame. What a waste, isn’t it, Jeonghan-ah?” You wish Mingyu would shrug his hand away as she drags one carefully manicured nail along the edge of his bicep. You wish Jeonghan would also react, but he doesn’t seem to move at all except one smirk. Perhaps this is normal for them? You don’t know why it’s annoying you then. Maybe because you don’t like this undue attention she’s giving Mingyu, clearly flirtatious as she leans into him to whisper something into his ears which you miss as you zone out of the conversation. Maybe because Jeonghan is still looking at her as if she’s a goddess, which is so uncharacteristic of him, leaving you second-guessing every damn thing you’ve understood about him till now. The ugly head of something raises its head in your chest, but you don’t know what it is so you really can’t quash it either. You wish it wouldn’t be so- you wish you could be normal about this, whatever this minuscule interaction has been. But you decide in your mind. You don’t like this woman at all. 

But as the night winds away, one thing becomes clear to you. 

There’s no one else who has the same opinion as you. They’re all clearly in love with her. Folding over for her. And perhaps you understand- she’s everything you expect a rich, high-class, beautiful, elegant and socially supreme woman to be. She’s the perfect woman, the epitome of one’s dreams. 

No wonder she’s the first woman Jeonghan is falling in love with. And falling in love, he is. It’s in the cherry eyes he’s throwing her, the way he’s blushing everytime she introduces him to someone all while clasping her fingers around her arm, the way the small of his hand rests on her pristine back which is left naked in the backless dress she’s wearing, the way she seems to have inside jokes with him because you can’t catch half of the things they’re saying but they seem to be laughing a good deal over it. 

You don��t wait for Jeonghan to offer you a ride home. You know he will not. So when Mingyu offers to drop you home after dinner, you jump to his offer.

_

Something changes from that night onwards. Two things had clearly happened that night. First, Seokmin and Joshua did sleep together. As per Mingyu’s details, when Mingyu had gone to Seokmin’s house the next night to pick up something, he’d found Joshua casually lying on Seokmin’s bed, wearing Seokmin’s favourite red jersey and no pants, and both of them had been covered in hickeys, but he had not been able to ask anything else because Joshua was right there. 

Second, Jeonghan had definitely become enamoured with Sujin. Such that over the rest of the week, you barely see him, only communicating through a couple of texts here and there. His instagram story receives more updates than you do- and his soft launching definitely fails because his dates with Sujin are so obvious. 

It doesn’t matter. 

You make yourself busy with work. It doesn’t matter when the entire

It doesn’t matter that you have another fair coming up this weekend and you clearly remember telling Jeonghan about it a few days back. But he doesn’t come to help. He doesn’t even call before the fair, to wish you luck. For that matter, he doesn’t even call after it. 

It doesn’t matter that your mother’s death anniversary comes and goes, and Jeonghan breaks the four year old tradition of the two of you visiting her grave and spending the entire day together.

It doesn’t matter that Jeonghan has never gone this long without meeting you, but it doesn’t matter. You’re twenty-five. You’ve lost friends before, you can make do with losing another one. 

_

“So, it’s the last Friday of the month. I remember a bet…”

You sidle up to Mingyu’s desk as the work day comes to an end, gently sitting against the edge of his desk. 

“Fuck. I can’t believe I lost it, Y/N.” He leans back against his chair, stretching his arms behind him. He’s wearing a short sleeved polo shirt today, so his biceps strain against the sleeves. You wonder again how many hours he dedicates to the gym every day. 

“Well. It doesn’t matter now, does it? You’ve lost it, now don’t act like a sore loser. Where are you taking me out?” 

“So it’s a date?” He suddenly stands up, so that your eyes are at his chest level, and your breath is knocked away. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’m the one taking you out, so it’s my rules.”

You smile. “You could’ve told me before. I’m dressed shabbily today.”

“Huh? I think this blouse suits you perfectly. The red makes your lips look… brighter.”

You gulp, as Mingyu takes another step towards you, almost locking you into his desk. “Pack up so we can leave early, Y/N. Don’t wanna miss our reservation.”

_

“This looks expensive.” You feel underdressed for the high-end Mingyu has brought you to. “Are you sure this is the place you booked your reservation at?”

“You heard them saying that this table was for Kim Mingyu, didn’t you?”

“Still.” The place is too cold, it makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Have you ever been here before? What’s good?” You ask Mingyu when you’re offered the menu card by a server, and Mingyu asks her for the special wine of the restaurant as if he’s already tried it before. 

“The pasta is good. But I particularly enjoy their paella. But of course, it’s your call-”

“Dude, I can't even read all these english names. I’ll eat whatever you recommend. It is your treat afterall.”

“Alright then.” So Mingyu orders two plates of seafood paella and the pesto pizza. 

“Seems like you came all prepared to lose the bet? A reservation here could not have been easy.” “Well, it was some luck. But it’s kinda unbelievable that I did lose the bet. How has it been twenty days since they’ve been hooking up but still not dating? Maybe they’re just, like, secretly dating. And not announcing it. ‘Cause Joshua is a celeb and all.” “Perhaps. But I would think Seokmin is close enough a friend of yours to tell you if he did get into the first relationship of his life.” Mingyu pouts, his eyebrows furrowed as he drinks some of the wine that just got served. 

“I just hope he doesn’t get his heart broken, Gyu.”

The man in front of you shakes his head. “Don’t worry. Seokmin may be innocent but he’s cautious. He wouldn’t go in deep if he wasn’t sure of Joshua’s feelings too.” He gingerly edges his fingers towards your palm resting on the table, and gently caresses your fingers, sending shivers down your spine. “Y/N, let’s take our mind off the bet for some time, hmm? If I’m taking you out for the first time, I want it to be a date, and I want it… I want to do it the right way. Will you let me do it the right way?” 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Mingyu doesn’t have to make it more explicit, you understand well enough what he’s trying to say. But you still ask him, because you can’t wrap your head around it. 

“What do you mean, Gyu?”

He smiles, his cheeks glowing with happiness. “It means I’m asking you for a chance, Y/N. I like you. Let me show you how much I like you. Will you let me?” The intensity of his gaze and his gentle but firm grip on your fingers mean that he’s waiting for a response, but you’re literally taken aback and speechless. That took a quick turn. You had hardly expected that Mingyu did actually like you. All that banter and friendly touching? It was not your fault for thinking any good-looking man with flirtatious tendencies probably did that with every woman he saw. 

Fuck, Jeonghan was right about Mingyu liking me. Wow. What would the look on his face be when you’d tell him about this?

As soon as Jeonghan’s face crops up into your mind, the pleasant buzz of the situation dissipates into an anger you cannot understand. The faint traces of a drunk conversation from months’ ago float into your mind. 

Men like him aren’t worth chasing, you know.

Men like him? Why do you say that so condescendingly, Jeonghan?

Because I don’t understand the hype about him. Sure, big arms and height and all. But he’s after all just an average man. Using greasy pick up lines, wearing printed t-shirts, looking to marry and have three kids as soon as possible, and then grow old with dogs in a house he’s still paying the loan for, until retirement and then popping off. Just like that, he’s gone. Nothing remarkable about him for people to even remember him. Jeez, I really do not get the craze for unpolished men like him. I didn’t think you’d also be like other women and like him.

Ridiculous, ridiculous opinions. At that moment, you’d dismissed his statements as his usual drunken ludicrousness, but now an intense anger grows in you. As you see Mingyu sitting in front of you, his fingers still clasping yours, eyes shining with genuine fondness, you think how wrong Jeonghan was. Mingyu may not be a celebrity. He may not be a model with thousands of fans looking for him. Sure, he may be making just a regular paycheck at the end of the month. 

But he still wants to take a date out to a fancy high-end restaurant you know is beyond his affordability. He still wants you to give him a chance and he’s willing to work hard for it. He’s not an entitled bitch who thinks he can dump off a twenty-year old friendship for some random hot woman he met the other night, because he’s too busy thinking with his dick, too busy exploring the feeling of an infatuation because he’s never felt anything like that before and-

Mingyu gently rubs your fingers, breaking you out of your head. 

You heave in a deep breath, and say, “Yes, Mingyu. I… I can’t say anything about my feelings right now, though-”

“And that’s okay! I don’t want to force anything on you either. Your feelings are your feelings. Give me one chance and let me change your mind.” 

Mingyu’s smile is ever so genuine, his canines poking out of the side of his mouth. He picks your hand and slowly brings it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. 

And you should melt at the sweet gesture. You should melt at the feel of his soft, full lips touching your hand. You should melt at how big his hands feel against your smaller ones, the way his big fingers grasp your smaller wrist.

But it gives you deja vu from a distant memory and you avert your gaze. 

Thankfully, the pizza arrives just then and you two can dig in. 

_

When the bill arrives, Mingyu doesn’t even let you see it. You let him pay it, knowing his ego is too proud. Somehow, the fact that this was the outcome of him losing the bet has escaped your mind and you’ve realised it was all a ploy to get you out on dinner. 

“Did you design the bet in order to take me out to dinner?” You shyly ask him, as you both make your way out of the restaurant towards the spot where his car is parked.

He laughs, and whispers back to you, as you sit down in his car. “Guilty as charged. Did you really have no idea of my feelings?” 

You smile, no idea why the two of you are whispering but it feels strangely alright. It makes you feel like a high school forbidden romance, and he’s treating you like those ambitious teens who want to give the best date to their crush like you see in movies. With all the attention and compliments he’s given you over the last two hours, he hasn’t made you a tad bit uncomfortable, rather you’re quite floating on clouds right now. No one has ever made you feel you so wanted. Especially at a time when you feel particularly unwanted. 

“I did not, I swear. I thought it was your usual thing. The banter and all.”

He laughs again. He seems to be laughing a lot more than usual, and that’s okay with you. It adds to his warmth and his charm, and you like the sound too. 

“I think I fell for you ages ago. Ever since you shifted to that desk next to me.”

“Hell no. That was eight months back.”

“Uh-huh. What’s wrong with that?”

“It took you eight months to ask me out, Mingyu?” You scoff at him, squinting your eyes. “You’re a sore loser then. That’s way too long to crush on someone at this age.”

“I am a sore loser, I didn’t have the guts.” He giggles. His hand extends over the console to find your hand resting on your thigh, and he gently wraps his fingers around yours. “To be honest, I thought you were dating Jeonghan at first.” You let his fingers be on your hand, and you squeeze his meaty fingers. “That’s ridiculous. Jeonghan and I have never been that sort of thing.” “Really? I mean, it’s not obvious. But I kinda figured it out when we started mingling in the same circle and going out for parties with common friends and all. Seokmin and I both thought you and Jeonghan were a thing until we noticed how often he slept around with others.” 

You shudder. You don’t want to talk about Jeonghan now. God, Jeonghan was so wrong. Average man? No. Sincere man. Mingyu was a genuine man, and what was wrong in wanting to get married and have kids early? At least he didn’t have a vanity the size of the moon and an absolute disregard for others’ feelings. 

“Mingyu, you know my house is on the other side of the town. You don’t have to drive all the way up there. I can take the bus, it’s not that late.”

“What?” He squeezes your fingers, which have remained entangled in his own. “No. Of course I’ll drop you. Why would I want to cut our time together short?” That makes you blush wildly. You can’t believe the kind of cheesy stuff that comes out of his mouth so casually, almost fully seriously. 

“Mingyu! Stop saying things like that.”

“Why? Does it make your heart flutter?” 

And there’s a red light, so he turns to look at you, and you realise he’s close enough for you to smell his cologne. He smells good even at the end of the day. The cologne is from a cheap brand, the artificial fragrances make that obvious. Nothing like Jeonghan’s expensive bergamot fragrance you’ve gotten used to. But you’re not going to think about him. So you don’t. 

You lean in closer towards Mingyu. 

“You know, it’s not a working day tomorrow.”

His eyes go slightly dilated as he stares back at you. His grip on your hand tightens as you inch closer. “Yes, and?”

“Do you want to watch the World Cup finals game tonight, together?”

A very cocky, but an excited smirk spreads across his face. “Are you sure? Of course I want to.” His voice is still a whisper, but his excitement makes it shrill and cute. “Do you want to come to my place? I have snacks and soju at home, we can have a full binge session while we watch the match. Which team do you s-”

“Hey, pretty boy! Don’t speak so fast.” He pouts, but it’s extremely cute. “Mingyu, it’s a green light.”

He looks away from you and suddenly jerks into place, and you laugh. “You’re such a baby, Kim Mingyu.”

_

So you do end up at his place. You change into a spare set of clothes that he lends you, and you two spend a solid three hours laughing and watching the match. By the end of it, your eyes are red from staring at his large TV but you both fight sleep to watch the penalty kicks and the final winning shot. And when the last penalty kick is hit, and the team you both have been supporting is declared the winner, you both jump into the air, your popcorn spilling everywhere, but the giggles and the dopamine makes it worth it. You end up sleeping on the couch, and Mingyu on the carpet on the floor, semi-drunk after finishing three bottles of soju between the two of you. And then you’re out like a light, with no dreams and no disturbances even though the couch isn’t really comfy.

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of a doorbell. When you open your eyes, you see a ton of sunlight streaming in through the windows. Must be at least ten in the morning for the sun to be this bright. Mingyu is still asleep, his legs tangled with the blanket he brought last night, and his hair mussed up. Not wanting to wake him up, and realising that you look decent enough to open the door, you peep through the eye-hole, before gasping and immediately opening the door. 

“Seokmin?”

“Y/N?” There’s a croak in his voice, like it’s broken. His eyes are wide, like he hasn’t been expecting you. “Sorry- I- Mingyu and I were watching the match last night so I slept here. We didn’t sleep together or anything-” “No, you don’t have to explain. Is Mingyu here?” “Yeah, I’ll just be leaving. You can talk to him, don’t mind me!” 

Mingyu wakes up at the sound of your conversation, and comes to the door equally surprised to find Seokmin standing there. He takes up the rein of the conversation and it’s only now that you notice how gloomy Seokmin’s face looks- clouded with worries and a seriousness you’ve never seen in him before. It’s an odd look because you thought it impossible to ever see Seokmin look downcast like this. 

“Is something wrong?” Mingyu asks him softly, drawing him a little away from you, and you understand. It may be a private thing between friends, you wouldn’t want to intrude. 

“No, it’s okay if Y/N hears.” Seokmin clears his throat and turns around to face you. 

“Joshua… cheated on me. No, that- that’s wrong. We were never together, he said. So he was never exclusive. We were never exclusive. So he’s been cheating on me since the first day… No, what I mean is-”

“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, as you see Seokmin struggling with his words, his eyes on the floor. “Are you sure, Seokmin-ah? Did you see him-”

“I went to this house this morning. To surprise him. We were supposed to meet yesterday but I had to cancel, so…” he runs a hand through his hair. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” And your heart breaks at the misery painted across his face, so you pull him into your arms and he instantly breaks down and starts crying in your shoulder. You can see Mingyu looking equally distressed, so you pull him into the hug too, and the two of you take turns to comfort Seokmin as he sputters out the rest of the story in between sobs. 

“Hadn’t you spoken to him before about dating and all, Seokmin-ah?” Mingyu asks him, but Seokmin shakes his head. “I hadn’t… because I was too scared he would reject me. Of course, I was okay with us not having tags until he wanted to… of course, I understand that he is a celebrity and these sorts of things are probably okay between them but… It still hurts, I’m sorry.” “You should not be sorry, Seokmin-ah. It’s literally not your fault that Joshua was an absolute jerk,” you say, patting his back. “Mingyu, can you take care of Seokmin-ah? I have to go talk to Jeonghan about this.” “Jeonghan?” Seokmin looks at you with wide eyes, and you simply nod without elaborating. “Joshua will regret losing you, Seokmin.” 

Jeonghan will regret his meddling.

_

When you arrive at Jeonghan’s house, you find that his mother thankfully is not there. It wouldn’t matter anyway. In their four storey mansion, you and his mother have rarely clashed when avoidable. Although you let yourself in, you find Jeonghan’s bedroom locked, slow jazz music clearly audible. 

You bang on the door. 

No response. 

“Jeonghan, open up.” 

The door opens after a solid ten seconds, with a curious Jeonghan peering down at you. “Y/N?” He’s shirtless, his pale, glowing skin shining in the sunlight. “Is she here?” “Who?” “That woman.” “No.” You snort. Look at him, all blissfully unaware about the damage he’s done. You notice how he doesn’t open the door fully to let you come in, which is absurd. “You won’t let me in? Have we ceased to be friends?” “No, I- sorry. Come in.” “What?” “Those are not your clothes. You don’t own red clothes. You don’t even like the colour red.” You look down at your clothes and realise that you’re still dressed in Mingyu’s clothes. “Yeah, they’re Mingyu’s.” Jeonghan looks up from where he’s standing, trying to put on a shirt. He stops midway and walks closer towards you, “You’re wearing Mingyu’s clothes?” “Yes, and?” 

The beauty of Yoon Jeonghan hits you with full force as he steps into your personal space, all up close until you can count his long eyelashes. You can see the way his gaze hardens, his eyes darken, and his jaw locks itself, making his face more serious and less delicate. “Did you sleep with him?” “Jeonghan, there’s something else I came to talk to you about-” “Did you?” His finger grazes your chin. The touch is not unfamiliar, but not familiar either. It sends a shiver down your spine as you take a step back, without breaking eye contact. 

“I don’t have to answer you, Jeonghan. Not after you decided to go MIA after meeting one woman-”

“I did not go MIA.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Yoon! Fuck, do you have no conscience, lying to my face like that? Why did you stop calling me? Stop coming over? Avoided every time I planned to meet up with you?”

“I was busy.”

“With what? What on earth could make you so busy that you missed my mother’s death anniversary? What on earth could make you so busy that you felt it was normal to not talk to me properly for days? Years of friendship, broken by what? I want to know, Jeonghan! Was it her? Does she ask you not to talk to me?”

“No, what? Why would you bring her into-”

“Then why? Are you really the same Jeonghan who wanted to video call every week even when you had gone abroad for that study program? Are you really the same Jeonghan who swore that even if you got married with ten grandchildren, you wouldn’t lose contact with me?”

“Y/N, listen to me.”

“No, I’m not going to fall for your lies-”

He steps in front of you and gently places his left hand on your mouth. “I’m sorry.” There’s that intense gaze again. He wraps his other hand around your arm, holding you in place. “Listen to me, once, please?” You look away, and you make the mistake of looking down at his chest. You didn’t realise he was still shirtless. And while it’s not a view you’re seeing for the first time and it’s never really phased you before, you swear your mouth goes dry seeing the way a single silver chain hangs in front of his collarbones. 

“What is it, Jeonghan? What do you have to say?”

“I’m sorry, I made a mistake.”

There’s a pause, where you expect him to say something else, but he doesn’t continue. “That’s it?” You raise an eyebrow, and you see his jaw twitch. 

“Yes. I don’t have an explanation because there isn’t any. I was infatuated with Sujin until I found out on the internet after our photos of kissing went viral last night from a club.”

“Until you found your photos went viral? What happened, did your agency cut you off?” 

“What- no, of course not. My agency has it under control.”

“Then? Fans pressurised-”

“No, dammit. She’s not been talking to me since the incident. But she’ll come around. She’s probably a little shocked because of the paparazzi.”

You sigh. “Well. At least your life’s under control.”

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan’s eyes slightly furrow as he leans into you. Your nostrils fill with that typical scent of his, but it’s the first time you can smell his masculine scent too, perhaps because he is shirtless. But you refuse to be taken off guard, so you harden your gaze and look back into his stare with full force. 

“Seokmin…”

“What about Seokmin?”

“Joshua’s been fucking other people apart with Seokmin.”

Jeonghan steps back. “Seriously?”

“Yes. You’ve broken his heart, Jeonghan.” You can’t help from throwing him your most disappointed look, reflecting your real feelings. “You knew that he is a playboy and I’d told you that he would not take Seokmin seriously. I told you to not meddle, and look at what you’ve done now.”

Jeonghan falls to the bed behind him with a loud thud. His voice cracks when he asks you, “Is Seokmin okay?” 

You bitterly shake your head. “It was his first relationship. Think of how he’d feel after finding out the man he loves didn’t love him all along.”

_

There was nothing to be done that day, except you going back to Mingyu’s place, both to return his clothes, but also to check on Seokmin. You brought soup and some more comfort food, and found Seokmin sitting in one corner of Mingyu’s bed, wrapped in a blanket but still shivering because of the tears that kept flowing down his cheeks from time-to-time. 

Jeonghan goes to meet Joshua. You don’t know how much good that’s going to do, considering that Joshua is a stubborn man. And to be honest, you wouldn’t want Seokmin to go back to Joshua either. There was a high chance that the sensitive younger boy’s feelings would get hurt again, and you didn’t want to take that chance. 

And you’re proved right. When Jeonghan comes to Mingyu’s house after talking to Joshua, he begs forgiveness from Seokmin, who doesn’t blame him at all. He instead cries a bit more, blaming himself and his innocence, and his inability to understand Joshua’s feelings correctly. Hearing him cry, Jeonghan cries too, the two wrapped up in each other, as you and Mingyu leave them alone to sort out the mess. It is a mess, but nothing Jeonghan says makes it better. It doesn’t matter how many times Jeonghan tries to explain to Seokmin that it’s not his fault, because Seokmin has shut off all voices of reason. 

So you take Jeonghan away from him. He’s quiet throughout the journey back home, swimming in his guilt. And your heart breaks a little seeing him. 

He doesn’t respond to your voice when you ask him to get out of the car and come into your house, so you open the door and gently take him into your arms and carry him inside, his arms limp in yours. 

“Hannie?” You ask him when you’re finally inside and you’ve seated him on your kitchen stool. 

“I let him down. I let you down, Y/N.”

His eyes gradually look up at you, and you can see the raw vulnerability in his doe eyes. But you cannot comfort him. A part of your heart aches to touch him, to let him know that it isn’t his fault either, but another part of your heart thinks that he deserves it. His self-important ass should take a blow from time-to-time, and realise that everything in the world does not revolve around him.

So you don’t reply to him, only walking away. You busy yourself with other chores around the house, doing the laundry, cleaning the rooms, washing the dishes. And Jeonghan just sits there in that chair throughout, waiting for you to finish your work, as he looks at you with sad wide eyes. 

You don’t miss what he’s trying to do. He’s trying to throw puppy eyes so that you can forgive him. But you won’t forgive him. It’s only when you finish making dinner and place some of it before him on a plate, that you speak to him. “Eat up. Both of us haven’t eaten anything since the morning.”

He doesn’t look away from you, not making a move towards the plate. 

“Jeonghan. Looking at me like that is not going to mend things.”

“Like what?”

“Like that. Puppy fucking eyes. I’m not going to melt because of that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you’re feeling sorry. I feel sorry too, if it makes you feel any better. In spite of knowing what kind of man Joshua potentially could be, I didn’t do anything to caution him. I’m as much to blame as anyone else.” 

“No, you’re wrong. It is my fault, through and through.”

You push the plate of food towards him. 

“Enough of your self-pity. Now, eat, please.”

Hearing your stern tone, he silently picks up his chopsticks. And then you only talk to him after he’s finished his entire meal. “Do you want more? You must be hungry.” “Hmm, if there’s any more.” So you give him some more, and finally, when he’s done, some of the natural glow comes back into his face. 

“Do you want to go home now? Or-”

“Can I stay here? I don’t want to go home.” When you don’t immediately respond, he adds, “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Have you ever slept on the couch, Han?”

He looks away. “I’ll wash the dishes.” So you leave him to do that and go into your bedroom to brush your teeth. He doesn’t come into the room for the next hour, not until you’ve changed into your night clothes and snuggled into your warm bed with the covers pulled up to your chin. On any other Saturday night, Jeonghan and you would wear matching face masks before going to bed. On any other Saturday night, you would eat liquor chocolates before bed, as a guilty pleasure. On any other Saturday night, Jeonghan and you would watch youtube videos till you slept. 

But tonight is not any other Saturday night. There is still a rage simmering in your heart. So you text Mingyu good night, but you don’t even look at Jeonghan when he finally comes into the room. Even as you feel him finally shuffle into bed and the other side of the bed dip under his weight, you don’t turn to look at him. Almost thirty minutes later, you finally turn around to stretch your body, hoping that the smoothness of Jeonghan’s breathing means he has finally dozed off to sleep. 

You’re wrong. As soon as you turn around, you see his eyes flutter open to meet yours, his face shining under the moonlight flitting in through the window. It’s at moments like this that you realise that he was truly born to be a model. He looks beautiful, even restless like this, even on stressful nights, when his eyes are clouded and the usual flush in his cheeks is lessened. 

Somehow seeing his eyes on you makes your heart calm down. 

“Did you really sleep with him, Y/N?”

Huh? This is what he wants to ask you? Is this what he’s been restless about? You can feel your heart race up again with irritation. Why is he pressing on about this? How dare he, when the only reason you’re spending time together with your best friend after weeks is because he’s made a grave mistake and he wants you to forgive him. 

Is this why you’re not forgiving him, yet, Y/N? Because you want to hold on to him at any cost? A voice in your head asks you. You dismiss it quickly. 

“After everything, this is what’s keeping you up?”

“Just please answer me, Y/N-ah.”

You take a breath.

“No I didn’t, Jeonghan. But we did go out on a date last night.”

In the darkness, you miss how his breathing speeds up and his jaw clenches. You just see him stare at you for a long minute. Then you turn back around and close your eyes. You hope he’ll be gone the next morning. 

_

He is gone the next morning. 

Well, gone from the room. You find him sitting on the couch, reading something on his phone. 

“You’re up early.”

He looks terrible. It’s clear he’s not slept well, if at all. 

“She called.” 

The coffee machine pings, indicating that your cappuccino is ready. 

“Who?”

“Sujin.” 

You pick your cup and turn around to look at him, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Oh good. Do you want eggs or ramen-”

“She has a husband. He lives in New Zealand.”

You almost drop your cup, as Jeonghan stares at you with the full force of his gaze. “She wants to break off ties immediately. She doesn’t want to stay in touch.”

“God, I didn’t know people were this casual about relationships these days. First, Joshua… then Sujin. I am sorry to hear-”

“Don’t be. I don’t feel bad. I don’t know, should I feel bad?” He walks up towards you and slowly takes a sip from your cup of coffee. He’s standing really close to you, and you can see the way his hair is growing along his neck. 

“Jeonghan, but you liked her?”

“I did, I suppose. But I can’t find myself to care that she’s gone. The restlessness in my heart is not caused by her at all. And, the longer,” he takes another sip, “I think about it, I think, I’m glad she’s gone.”

“What?”

“Because she took me away from you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “What are you saying, Jeonghan-ah?”

“Y/N, I- I don’t know what came over me. I swear I didn’t want to miss your mother’s anniversary. I knew you had a fair last week and-”

“Jeonghan! It’s fine, don’t fret so much. I’ll eventually get over it,” you laugh, trying to desperately avoid the intense gaze which is pinning you down now. 

He takes a step closer to you, his hand extending to touch your neck gently, feeling the hair near your neck. “You might. I won’t be able to look myself in the eye in the mirror, fuck, I won’t even be able to look at you with a clear mind until you forgive me.”

And then there’s a strange sensation in your limbs. A sensation to touch him too. It’s not like you’ve never touched him- but this time, you don’t want to touch him like you’ve touched him for all these years. You want to touch the way the faint morning sunlight is kissing his cheeks. You want to touch the gentle ends of his brown hair which are slowly growing in length. You want to touch his lips, chapped evidently, but still rosy and delicate. How would it feel to kiss him? Would he kiss you back?

“Jeonghan, you don’t know what you’re saying. You feel hurt because of Sujin and you want a quick fix.”

“Fuck, no, Y/N! Stop misunderstanding me, please! You don’t get it, do you? When I heard that you and Mingyu went on a date, I realised it.”

“Realised what?”

“That you’re mine. And I’m yours. I can’t imagine belonging, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else.” You don’t have any words to say, just leaning back as he gently caresses your neck and hairline. So you stay silent, as you let his touch ease your mind. It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels as if his fingers just belong there. You crave the way he touches you, and you think you agree with what he’s saying. “Y/N, I… there’s a reason why I’ve never fallen in love with someone. Because, I didn’t need to. And because nobody was you. I’ve been a fool to not realise it earlier- but you’re literally my soulmate. We match, yin and yang, you’ve said this before yourself. And nobody makes me feel as loved as you do. Nobody makes me as happy as you do. I’m sorry I got carried away with the infatuation, but I know in my heart that it was nothing but physical attraction with Sujin. And I don’t even care for it. She has no place in my heart. Nobody does, except you.”

“But Sujin is perfect. You-”

“But she’s not you. She may be perfect, I don’t know. She’s definitely not perfect for me.” 

He leans in even closer, until you’re breathing the same air as his own, and his palm gently massages your neck. “I know who’s perfect for me.”

And then he steps back. He fucking takes a step back, leaving you high and dry, leaving you perched on his words, a glint in his eyes and all misery gone from his face. “I’ll wait for your reply, Y/N. I’ll wait for you to give me a chance. Unless, of course, your heart has already gone to Mingyu-”

You take a step forward. “Mingyu has never meant anything for me. I don’t … feel anything for him. You know that.”

“But you went on a date with him?”

“I… I didn’t put too much thought to it. We were going out just normally and he suddenly said if we can make it a date. And I had no reason to not give into his request-”

“But do you like him? Giving into his request and wanting the same thing as him are two different things, Y/N.”

You stay silent for a second, considering his question. It is a perfectly valid question, a question that had tormented your mind throughout the ‘date’. You hadn’t paid it much mind because of the sudden incidents after that, but when it comes back to your mind now, you realise…

“No. I don’t like him like that. And you know that too.”

There’s an evident shift in Jeonghan’s eyes, his gaze becoming warmer. “I do. But he is a better man, Y/N-ah. Better than I could ever be.”

There’s a long pause after his words, both of you waiting like prey and predator, wondering what the other’s move would be.

And then you take quick steps towards him, gently moving towards him timidly, until his back is against the wall, and you’re pinning him down on it. His lips part and he leans downwards, and that’s enough bait for you to fall for it, hook, line and sinker. So you meet him halfway and kiss him. You press your lips against his softer lips, the same lips you had wondered what it would be like to kiss, the same lips you had wondered if it would kiss you back. 

When you both finally break the kiss for air, you whisper to him, “I don’t want a better man, Jeonghan. I want you.”

So you kiss him again. And again, until his kisses become insistent, and he gently pries open your lips with his tongue. When his tongue enters, he flips you so that your back is against the wall, and he gently cages you with his hands on your hips. Then he takes his sweet time exploring your mouth the same way his gentle hands roam all over your waist and hips, pulling you up towards him, so that his hands wrap around you back as well.

“Fuck, Y/N, why haven’t we done this earlier?”

“Because we were friends?”

He laughs, a warm, tinkling sound in your ears, as he bends down to kiss your neck, making you gasp with each touch. “Fuck being friends, Y/N. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day when I haven’t loved you and wanted to live the rest of my life with you by my side.”

“Hannie, what you’re saying-”

“Does it feel wrong? Do you want me to stop? I will stop if you say so, love.”

Love. He’s called you nicknames before, but something about the way he says it now makes you weak in the knees. 

In the past twenty-four hours, you’ve realised you were wrong so many times. Like right now, you realise that it was never Mingyu who made you feel the most wanted. It was because you were craving for Jeonghan’s attention that made you feel like Mingyu’s attention was unique. It was, is, and will always be Jeonghan. Had been him when he’d seen you through the shabbiness of your home, through the simple lifestyle your single mother provided, through your worst days when you’d isolated yourself from the world because you were too scared to face your demons. Had been him when he’d shown you that friendships can exist beyond a single classroom’s companionship, that love doesn’t always have to come in the form of big gestures and gifts, that life is always better with someone by your side. 

And you can’t imagine anyone else by your side, except Jeonghan. 

“It feels so right, Hannie. Don’t stop kissing me, please.” 

He chuckles, a deep, glorious sound, as he captures your lips again, his fingers daringly fiddling against the clasp of your bra that’s evident through your thin t-shirt. You gently edge yourself off the wall, bracing your back, pressing your body against his. “Fuck, don’t do that, Y/N. I’m not going to be able to keep my control if you do that.”

“You don’t have to control yourself, Han-ah. I want you as much as you want me.”

He kisses you again after that, a searing kiss that makes your body warm with liquid passion, and then he unclasps the bra from behind in one go. Then he kisses your jawline, leaving tiny bites as he pulls of the straps and your bra drops to the floor where you’re standing. Your body suddenly feels cool, so you press your chest against his, nipples rubbing against the fabric of his t-shirt and hardening, and he notices it.

He mutters something under his breath, before asking you, “Can I?”

“I don’t know,” you throw him a smirk. “Can you?”

“Fuck,” and then his hands grasp your breasts from over your tshirt, gentleness all forgotten as you arch your back to press into his squeezing hands as they rub circles into your nipples, feeling so warm against the cold air of the house. He trails his kisses down from your neck, through your collarbones, and finally over your shirt on your breasts, leaving wet patches all over. The erotic sight turns you on, as his spit gently lingers on the thin material of your shirt, leaving everything translucent. 

“Babe, let’s take you to the bedroom, please? I don’t want our first time against your kitchen wall.” His voice is hoarse in your ear, desperate groans you could never imagine Jeonghan to be emitting, but here he is, his low voice working wonders to your body. And you whisper a yes, before he drags you into the bedroom and nudges you to fall against the bed. He quickly pulls off your shirt, damp all over by now, and takes in the sight of your bare upper body. “God, you’re so fucking pretty, Y/N. Prettiest fucking tits I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, making you blush with the way he’s casually talking dirty to you. Then he latches his lips onto one of your breasts, sucking your nipple, while a hand pinches your other nipple, making you scream out at the sudden pleasure. And it’s his name you’re screaming. He looks at you with crazed eyes, his bangs falling over his eyes, but he doesn’t leave eye contact even as he switches sucking and nibbling from one breast to another. The soft skin of your tits are all wet and blooming with hickeys by the time he’s done, leaving your panties sticky and your breathing erratic. 

“I want to feel you too, Hannie.” You whimper, and he giggles. “God, you’re so cute, babe. Can you take off my shirt, cutie?” You sit up instantly and take off his shirt. And his chest is as pretty as you remember it. But this is the first time you’re having such a visceral reaction towards his bare chest, as you gently lick and leave open mouthed kisses all over his neck and chest. “Baby, so good-” his voice breaks, and it makes you feel powerful. The blood rushes to your brain, and you quickly unzip his pants on an impulse, feeling the loose fabric slip down, leaving his boxers in front of your face, his dick already weeping through the thin fabric of his boxers, leaving a stain. “Hannie, I want your cock, in … my mouth.” You know the effect your words are having on him, as he grips on to one bedpost to steady himself. “Yeah? Pretty baby wants her mouth on my cock? God, just do it already. Don’t tease, f-” his voice gets strangled again as you lick the stain on his boxer, before gently taking his red cock out of his tented boxer. “So pretty, like you, Hannie. Delicate and pretty, and oh,” you gag on your first attempt. “So long.” Unexpectedly long, so you can’t fit him in one go. Still you try to take as much as you can, and his hands wrap around your hair. When you bob your head once, a low groan leaves Jeonghan’s mouth as his grip tightens on your hair. “If you do that, Y/N-ah, I swear I’m going to cum right now.” You don’t listen to him, you continue to suck his length off. His pretty length, which is leaking more and more pre-cum as you continue to suck it and lick off the tip, as you enjoy the sounds Jeonghan makes just for you. 

An insecure part of you wonders if Sujin did it as well. So you ask him, in all your vulnerability. 

“Did Sujin do it like this? Or was she better?”

Hannie’s hands stop in your hair. He gently pulls his cock out from your mouth before sitting down to your level on the bed. Then he roams his hand all over your skin as he pushes you down to lie on your back. “Y/N, believe me when I say this. Sujin didn’t make me feel even an ounce of what I’m feeling right now. I feel so safe, and wanted, and sexy when you even moan for me, and I swear I almost came on the spot when you took off your shirt and showed me your body.” 

His hands delicately wrap all over you, as he places his weight on you. Your heart warms at his words, so you grab his face to kiss him. And kiss he does. Slow, passionate kisses, as you lift your hips to feel some friction against his milky smooth thighs. Kisses which end up in him biting your lower lip as he pinches your nipples almost cruelly, making your toes curl up. Kisses which bend down to your chest as he sucks on your buds to make them hurt less, and his hands move towards gently pressing a finger against your folds. 

“So wet, pretty baby? For Hannie?” 

“For Hannie. All for Hannie.”

And he enters the entire finger inside you without a moment’s pause, making you moan out his name in an almost pornographic moan, arching your hips, as he uses his thumb to gently rub your clit. “So pretty for Hannie. You were made for Hannie, all of your beautiful body and your beautiful mind. What would I do without you, love?” 

“You would never be without me, baby.” And he kisses you again, as his fingers work your folds open gently, first one, and then two, and slowly, without you even realising, with the way his fingers piston into you, you’re on the brink of your orgasm. So you cum all over his fingers without warning, and he chuckles as he feels the warm sensation over his fingers. Then he sits up, and rubs the remnants of your wetness over his dick and jerks himself off a little, making his proud length stand up even taller. 

“Fuck, Hannie, put it inside me already. Feel-feeling empty.”

He kisses your cheek. “So cute, but so dirty, god. You’re empty? Wait. Do you have condoms?”

You nod. Indicating the top shelf of your bedroom drawer. He retrieves a pack quickly, and as he rolls the condom over his dick, he sits tall, watching how you’re writhing under him for his touch. 

“Does this boost your ego, Han-ah?”

“So much. To think that you’re like this for me. Fucking unreal.”

“Shut up,” you giggle shyly, before grabbing him and kissing him slowly, as he gently enters you inch-by-inch. Once he’s seated all the way inside, he breaks the kiss. “Does it hurt?”

“No. You can move, Hannie.” You blush with how he tries to angle his hips correct from the very first thrust, biting his lips in concentration. He’s really trying to make this the best experience for you two, and it warms your heart. But he doesn’t have to get so worked up about this. 

So you whisper to him, “Hannie, come into my arms please. Wanna hold you, wanna feel you close.” “I’m here, I’m here baby,” he says, leaning closer to you, his thrusts becoming slower, but you can feel him deeper like this. 

And soon, your moans become higher and higher pitched, as do his. He kisses you through every second of it, even when you’re both chasing your climax. “Fuck, baby, I’m going to cum now, can you cum with me?” You nod, reaching out to rub your nipples, as he kisses the sensitive spots on your neck. And within seconds, you’re both seeing stars, as you feel an intense orgasm run over you and his lazy thrusts through it all. 

It takes you a long minute to recover, and you see that Jeonghan’s cleaning you up with a soft cloth. “Hannie?” “Sleepy?” “Hmm,” you reach out for him, and he comes to cuddle in your chest. “But it’s still early morning, how can I sleep now?” “Let’s just cuddle, hmm? You need some rest at least before we go for round two,” he gives you a cocky smirk, and you blush at his words. God, he made you feel all mushy and gooey inside. 

“I love you, Hannie.”

“And I love you, Y/N-ie. I always have.”

[vampyastro]

𝕬𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖔 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖕𝖙 𝟛

✐ ✧Common birth chart placements of famous writers✧ ✐

Hey everyone! I am someone who loves reading and writing so I decided to look into some of my favorite authors birth charts and find common placements amongst them that could indicate being a good writer. Of course there are other placements in a birth chart that can indicate this (I researched a lot of writers charts and of course not all of them have these placements), I just thought it was interesting to see these the common placements amongst prominent writers. If there are any writers you know of that have these placements feel free to let me know!

✐ I’ve noticed a lot of famous male writers have Gemini moons, meanwhile famous female writers have Libra moons.

✐ Gemini Moons: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Franz Kafka, Charles Baudelaire, J.D. Salinger, T.S Eliot

✐ Libra Moons: Sylvia Plath, Maya Angelou, Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson, Agatha Christie, Louise Gluck

✐ Mercury is also another indicator of whether someone is a good writer. Mercury is the planet of communication, thinking patterns, mentality, reasoning/rational, etc. The authors Mercury sign can sometimes reflect the topics they write about. For instance, Oscar Wilde is a Scorpio Mercury and he wrote a lot about death, transformation, mystery and the fall from grace.

✐ Scorpio Mercury: Oscar Wilde, Sylvia Plath, Arthur Miller, Mark Twain

✐ Sagittarius Mercury: Albert Camus, Louisa May Alcott, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Charles Baudelaire, Christina Rossetti, Jane Austen, Emily Dickinson, Louise Gluck

✐ Writers usually tend to have prominent 10th house placements. Many planets in the 10th house can represent authority, being career oriented and success. Most often I’ve seen Saturn be in many of these writers houses, which makes sense because many of these individuals had tough lives and preserved through many challenges in order to gain the success they had. Some died without even knowing how successful they were or the legacy they left on the world. Specifically Franz Kafka, he had Mars, Saturn, Neptune and Chiron in the 10th house. Kafka died thinking he was a failure, his writings didn’t reach their peak popularity until many years after his death.

✐ Other writers with prominent 10th house placements include:

Christina Rossetti (Moon, Saturn), Emily Dickinson (Saturn, North Node), Agatha Christie (Venus), Arthur Miller (Mars, Saturn, Neptune), Mary Shelley (Pluto), Oscar Wilde (Saturn), Ernest Hemingway (Neptune, Pluto), Shakespeare (Mercury, Pluto)

✐ Overall in my findings, I noticed that many writers I researched have multiple Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Gemini and Sagittarius placements in their charts.

-Side note, he’s not necessarily a writer, although he did write books; Sigmund Freud is a Gemini moon and Scorpio rising. I think that is very interesting lol.

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰! *:･ﾟ✧

𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓮! ♡

P.s Let me know if you’re interested in more posts like this. I can do famous musicians, artists, psychologists, etc :) Also, thank you for all the support on my last two posts! 🫶🏻

[timmyyyturner]

Gone: Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

“baby, wake up„ the kiss pressed on your forehead soothing you awake, you're half asleep, he pulls you into his arms. “i'm going away for a little while okay, baby?„ you snuggled into his arms. “gonna miss you„ he kissed your cheek. you mummer something on the lines of "gonna miss you more." jason chuckled softly. “i love you„ you smile leaning up to kiss his soft and a bit chapped lips. “i love you more." he mummers against your lips. he lays you down. “go back to sleep, kay?„ you nod. “don't be gone too long„ he nods, slipping on his helmet “i won't. 2 weeks, i promise." you hum, watching him jump out the window.

jason todd disappears alot, but it doesn't mean he doesn't miss you and it doesn't mean you miss him any less. you've been together 2 years, 3 in six months. you could barely contain yourself when the second week without him arrives but to your disappointment he doesn't arrive but he send flowers with a note that reads missions gonna take longer than i thought, maybe 2 weeks? i love you.

you miss his voice, his touch, his taste, his pretty lips, him. You miss him. two weeks later, you wait for him again, propped up on the windowsill, with a cup of coffee, under a blanket. alas you fall asleep, when you woke up you were in bed, the scrumptious smell of breakfast in the atmosphere. you were excited to see him, rushing in the kitchen only to find it empty. “jay?„ you called out. “baby?” You stumbled into the dining area. “jas-„ you stopped at the table, seeing the flowers, a note sticking out from the flowers beautifully set behind a plate of pancakes. you picked up the note reading it disappointedly. enjoy breakfast :) i'll be back in a month, promise. i love you.

two months later and you haven't heard anything from him. not a word. you missed him. you just wanted to know if he was alive, thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him. the house is too quiet, too empty. you wanted to know where he was.

you were propped on the couch reading a jane austen book when you got a knock on you're door. you didn't even attempt to get your hopes up. “package and flower delivery for miss ___„ you signed for it, took it closing the door. you searched the carnations for a note, nothing. you put them in a vase. you knew it was from him though. red carnations were his favorite flower. you opened the package, nothing but a black hoodie and a red plushy. the hoodie smelt exactly like him. you drowned yourself in his hoodie, falling asleep holding the plushy.

another two months and you were considering leaving the house for bit cause everything reminds you of him, sleeping in his side, buying his cologne so you could smell like him all the time. it wasn't exact but you could bare with it for a little while. this two months however there wasn't even an indication that he was even alive.

the day six months arrived. your anniversary. midnight. you had enough. you wanted to be loved, you needed to love and you had so much love to give. your stuff sat neatly in suitcases on top of the bed. you heard a soft thump on the floor, in the middle of writing a note to jason. “where you going, baby?„ tears stung at your eyes. you got up and walked to him “sorry for being away so long„ before he could say anything more, you hand came in contact with his face. it stung, hurt. he deserved it though.

“why the fuck would you do that to me?„ you whispered, looking up at him, eyes red and puffy from crying. he didn't say anything after, neither did you though. you sighed, taking the suit cases off the bed, pulling them next to you. “so, is this it? Is this the end?" he asked, fists balled up, angry with himself. he knew he couldn't live without you. you bent down to open the suitcase. you didn't say anything for a whole minute, just ignored his presence and opened the closet door. “y/n. are we over?"

“don't be fucking stupid, jason„ you started packing your stuff back in the closet. “if we were over, i would've left already„ jason smiled softly. “nuh-uh. don't smile at me, you stink.„

“ouch? I thought we were cool„ he frowned playfully. “no, we are. you just smell extremely repulsing and you're full of mud„ he nodded. “i agree, gimme a hug and a kiss„

“what? no„ you turned to him seeing him gone “jason, i swear to go- JASON PUT ME DOWN! you're making me dirty!„

he put you down slowly. “great, now I have to shower too„ you frowned. “you're so fucking lucky i love you„ he paused, holy shit it felt so good to hear you say it again “so, we gonna shower now? Or you want me to run us a bath„ he wanted to hear you say it again. “bath... I love you„ he muttered the last part, you kissed his cheek. “i love you too, honey. now take off those dirty ass clothes off before I burn them off„ he smiled. “i love you more„

“what are you playing, mr. todd?„ he looked at you pleadingly. “say it again, please„

“i love you„

“i love you too„

“i love you more„

“i love you most„ he cleared his throat. “will you marry me?„ you stopped in your tracks. “what?„

he swallowed. “i want to marry you, __. will you marry me?„ you didn't say anything for a while, just stared at him, tears falling from your eyes. “i know you're extremely mad but i love you and want to mar-"

“yes„ you both didn't say anything for a while. “you said yes„ he said. “i did„ you spoke. you practically jumped in his arms. “i love you so much, jason. please don't ever do that again„

“not even thinking 'bout leaving, princess. never„

[charlotteking23]

Hi! Your stories are hilarious and amazing! I was wondering if you could write a story about Batmom secretly meeting with Gotham City Sirens (Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Pamela Isley) and for a private girls night where they accidentally cause havoc (intense barfights (harley), impromptu jewelry store heists (Selina), shady alley deals (batmom), plants going crazy (Pamela), and massive amounts of sweets being "stolen" in metropolis (batmom had to stop the others from eating everything). All of which the batfam has to clean up. They follow the destruction and see what they think is batmom's ✨️Villain Debut✨️ (not really) so they go back to the manor and they stage an "intervention" for batmom. When she gets home bruce and her boys start scolding her and the Sirens for their behavior only for the girls to share a look and burst out laughing. They reveal that they were helping batmom get gifts for each of them. They went to that particular bar because they had a well aged vintage bottle of whisky that Alfred enjoys from time to time. The "shady alley deals" were from them going to a local seedy bookstore that had been open for over 100 years to get one of the only surviving copies of Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated herself. They went to that jewelry store because they were helping to make the remaining pearls of Martha Wayne's necklace into a set of cufflinks and a tie clip for Bruce, and to turn a few of Batmom's family heirloom peices into a ring that was secretly drawn by dick to propose to Kori with. They went to that confectionery because Conner mentioned they had the best coffee brew and an "espresso cake" made with extra strong espresso for Tim. That plant nursery had specific and highly nutritional feed and supplements products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat to keep them healthy. This makes them all tear up and wholesome fluff can happen.

Sorry for the length 😅 😬

Villian's Debut

Y/N slowly walked out of the house as quietly as possible, opening the manor gates and hoping in her car. She drove around the quiet streets of Gotham, it was night only those who were bad were up causing chaos in the city. It was easy to sneak out since the boys were out patrolling Gotham, and Alfred was sitting in the common room sipping his cup of tea.

Y/N drove to a secluded area parking her car near a warehouse. Upon entering she met up with the infamous Gotham City Sirens. It was a girl's night with Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Palmela Isely.

"Y/n, your finally hear", Selina Kyle said walking up to Y/n and hugging her sideways. "The sirens are back together", Harley said dragging Palmela's wrist and joining the hug. "guys we saw each other last week but as much as I enjoy the hug we have work to do.

Selina was driving in Y/n's car while Y/n was in the passenger seat turning on the radio. Harley and Palmela were in the back putting their hands in the air having the time of their life.

Their first stop was the bar, One of the best bars open in Gotham City. As they walked in all eyes were on them, I mean it was the infamous Y/n L/n, Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, and Dr. Palmela Isely. The four girls walked up to the bar all sitting down and ordering.

Everything was going fine till "Hey baby, you want to go somewhere" " The guy said laughing with his equally ugly friend while holding a beer.

"Excuse me, Do you want to go I can beat the living shit out of you", Harley said standing up and drowning her drink in one go ready to take the guy down. "Babe, You're a girl you can't take us dow-" Harley took out her bat and whacked the guy in the face before the guy could finish his stupid sentence. She repeatedly hit him all over his body aiming straight for his dick. Selina was still sipping her drink while Y/n was taking a video as Palmela Isely cheered for Harley.

Yeah, so they got Kicked out of the bar but it's okay because Harley was literally about to kill the guy. Next, they went to the "Shady Alley deals".

Bruce p.o.v

"Guy's there's trouble at a bar?", Bruce said checking the alarm.

"why a bar out of everything, I mean at least do something interesting", Jason leans on Dick whining about how bored he is.

"Jason will you shut up", Damian said slapping him.

They made it to the bar entering they saw a man on the floor beaten up badly.

"Who the fuck could do this", Jason said watching Tim check the drunken man's pulse.

"he's fine but way too much alcohol in his body", Tim disgusted quickly wiping his hands on his pants.

"What happened"? Dick said but was astonished to hear a girl had done this because he was being a pervert.

"Go boss bitch", Damian said walking up to Bruce.

" They must have left already, I wonder where this girl went", Bruce questioned dragging the drunken body outside to the emergency care.

Girl's p.o.v

"Aww, this is so boring", Harley said leaning against the bookshelves.

The girls were at the shady Alley deals trying to buy Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated. But the guy refused to sell them this piece claiming it was too precious. I mean that's why it's called shady.

"Look we need this copy now, how about 2,000 for the whole copy", Batmom said with annoyance.

"look lady, these are valuable and you don't seem like the person to take care of them", the stupid guy said.

With a loud dramatic gasp, "Oh know you didn't", Poison Ivy said dramatically.

"he's in for it", Selina said filing her nails.

"Look I work day and night taking care of 4 children and one husband, this is the only time I get a day off so you better give. me. those. books. or else! and trust me you don't want to know what else is.", Batmom yelled grabbing the guy's collar and pulling him face to face with an angry batmom.

"here, take it pls don't hurt me", the guy said closing his eyes in fear.

"Thanks", Batmom said skipping with the books in her hand to the car.

Time Skip

"where to next", Selina said driving with one hand on the wheel and the other on her phone.

"Oh of course the jewelry store", Harley said pointing at the sign.

"Ok here's the plan Selina you go get the pearls", Batmom said looking at Selina.

"huh, why me"

"You are literally a cat, plus I am too clumsy, Harley too loud and Ivy refused to do it", Batmom said.

So Selina carefully went in through the roof slipping in where no one could see her. Walking through the store towards the back, she sees the pearls. She stops taking her white powder compact from the back of her pocket blowing some revealing lasers. If she stepped on one she could set off triggers of alarms. Manuering through them jumping over them, backflipping, crawling till she reached the glass box. opening she switched it out for a cat collar successfully taking the jewels.

Alarms are blaring, flashing red "Damn it", Selina hisses running away.

"what's that noise", poison Ivy says, covering her ears.

nevermind let's get out of here", Selina said hopping into the cars with the girls and driving away.

"here are the pearls", Selina says

"perfect", Batmom put them into a clip and some cufflinks.

Bruce p.o.v

"there's trouble at a jewelry store", Dick said driving towards the store.

As the boys came they saw the owner in complete panic.

"Thank goodness you're here Batman, some robbers took Matha Wayne's remaining pearl necklace", the owner said in a panic.

"The ones she died in", Batman's voice grew deeper laced with emotion only those who knew him deeply could tell.

"Let's look around B", Jason said looking around for clues.

Tim was trying to access the cameras during the robbery but as expected they were wiped out.

"cat hair", Batman said picking it up.

"This could only belong to one person", Damian said with a glare on his face.

"Oh, Batman they also took some other things, a diamond it was a heirloom from the L/N family, the owner said.

All the boys could think about was Y/n and how she would react to this news.

"We need to find these robbers before Ummi finds out", Damian said ready to beat the guys up.

Girls p.o.v

"How much candy are you going to eat Harley", Selina said but Harley only shrugged eating more.

Here they were at the confectionery, it was a small cafe but it looked so pretty pink, there was an outside patio and the inside looked like those 70's diner joints.

The girls sat down at a booth obviously Harley and Ivy sat together so Selina and Batmom were on the other side.

"H-hello, what c-can I get y-you, the waiter said in fear. I mean he is serving notorious criminals, he was shitting his pants.

"Hi, we need a coffee brew and an expresso cake please, Batmom said with the sweetest voice.

" Oh and a giant cake the biggest one!", Harley exclaimed. The waiter quickly nodded running away.

"Isn't that too much sugar, you are going to get a sugar high...again", Selina said crossing her arms and leaning back towards the booth.

"Remember last time, when you crashed right into the wall because you ate too much sugar", Ivy recalled laughing at the memories.

"H-here is your order t-too g-go, have a nice night", the waiter quickly left as we paid for the meal leaving a tip.

"how much did you leave"? Selina questioned as they left the cafe.

"$200", Batmom said shrugging and getting into the car.

The girl's final stop of the night was the plant nursery, It was a big white building, looking kind of spooky in the night.

"This feels like a scooby doo episode", Harley said walking with the girls.

"Okay Ivy we need highly nutritional feed and supplement products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat", Batmom said looking at all the machines and plants in the room.

As the girls walked they heard a strange growling noise, huddling together not because they were, definitely not. For comfort just in case, a crazy plant tried to eat them.

"come here plant...yes who's a good boy you are, yes you are", Ivysaid in a baby voice.

"she does the same baby voice batmom does with her kids", Selina said.

batmom protested but only got a yes you do face or the fucking lying face. Thinking now she did do the baby voice to her kids but they were all just so cute.

Harley suddenly screamed whinning she felt something touch her feet. No one paid attention and it still continued to flow Ivy. Suddenly a huge plant wraps its vines around Harley's mouth and legs dragging her away from the group.

"Hey, where's Harley", Selina said looking around.

All the girls screamed for Harley as they looked around in different areas.

Selina felt something and before she could attack the huge pant monster dragged her away. Only now there was batmom and Ivy left.

"Ivy what the fuck is going on", Batmom said but before Ivy could answer the plant monster appeared growling towards the girls.

the monster took hold of Batmom wrapping her in vines and trying to crush her. Ivy used her powers to fight it but before she could she saw a thorn.

"oh poor baby it's only hurt...oh you weren't trying to hurt anyone were you", Ivy said pulling the torn out trying to keep the plant monster calm.

After it was calm the monster let go of Batmom and cuddled Ivy. Batmom found Selina and Harley tied up, undoing the vines the three were weirded out to see the same plant monster who tried to eat them getting a belly rub by ivy.

"This was the best girl's night ever", Harley grinned hugging the girls in a group hug tightly.

Tonight was a roller coaster, but it was fun, especially with the girls. They got in trouble with the Authorities twice no doubt the infamous Batman and her kids had already heard about the incident. But it was a memory you look back on and laugh at, doing it with those you love.

Batmom signed slowly entering the dark mansion seeing that no one was awake.

Suddenly the lights came on frightening Batmom seeing all her kids and Bruce looking at her with disapproval in their eyes. It's like looking in a mirror.

"Hi, how was everyone's night?", Batmom said trying to diffuse the situation.

"Mom, you were out with the villains Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, and Selina Kyle again", Dick said crossing his arms in sadness.

"yes, but I had a good reason-, Batmom tried to explain but Bruce interrupted her.

"Y/n, you girls got in a bar fight and stole jewelry and other things", Bruce said trying to keep an emotionless expression. He couldn't believe his innocent wife could do all of this.

Soon all the kids started to talk at the same time, asking questions of all sorts. It was getting too much for Batmom wishing now she stayed with the girls for another hour or so.

"kids, you give the girls a chance to explain what happened", Alfred said as you gave him a grateful nod.

you took a deep breath before sharing a look with the Sirens before laughing out loud with the girls all clutching your stomachs.

They reveal that they were helping Batmom get gifts for each of them. They went to that particular bar because they had a well-aged vintage bottle of whisky that Alfred enjoys from time to time.

The "shady alley deals" were from them going to a local seedy bookstore that had been open for over 100 years to get one of the only surviving copies of Jane Austen's complete works that she annotated herself.

They went to that jewelry store because they were helping to make the remaining pearls of Martha Wayne's necklace into a set of cufflinks and a tie clip for Bruce and to turn a few of Batmom's family heirloom pieces into a ring that was secretly drawn by dick to propose to Kori with.

They went to that confectionery because Conner mentioned they had the best coffee brew and an "espresso cake" made with extra strong espresso for Tim.

That plant nursery had specific and highly nutritional feed and supplement products for Batcow, Titus, and Alfred the cat to keep them healthy.

"see you big goofs all this was a big misunderstanding all the things we did were for you tonight", Batmom said to her family with tears in her eyes holding all the girl's hands.

"Don't worry Ma I never doubted you for a minute, Jason said smiling at his Ma.

"Really, Because when you first heard about Mother Time with the SIrens you were crying out that your Mother betrayed me", Tim said looking smugly.

Jason only huffed at Tim crossing his arms in annoyance before Damian came up and hugged his Ummi burying his head in her chest.

When Damian released his Ummi, Bruce walked up to his wife kissing her with so much passion. Bruce couldn't believe his wife did all of this for him and his kids. Oh, how he loves her.

"I love you", Bruce said quietly for only her to hear.

"I love you more", Batmom whispered back pecking his lips.

"Heyyy, who's up for a sleepover", Harley said shouting while hugging the sirens.

Oh Boy

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Thank you for the tag @efingart @revnah1406 @kaitaiga @islandtarochips @alypink @alexa-mwll @welldonekhushi and @eccentrcks !

A little list to showcase your oc's favorite things:

Name: Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin

Universe: OG! and Reboot!Modern Warfare

Favorite book (and why): Le Petit Prince (The Little Price). It's a classic kid's story from France that her father and mother read to little Lottie during their runaway times. As she grows old, she reads a lot of books to understand the popular cultures, but she enjoys Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. She's a dreamer!

Favorite song: A Million Love Songs by Take That

Favorite piece of clothing they own: She loves ALL her turtleneck, but she loves a particular semi-transparent green skirt that her mother made for her!

Favorite "little treat": Mr. Kiplings!

Favorite person in their lives: Mum and Dad (I mean, come on. she gave her entire life to replace them in MI6). But Ghost is coming in hot 😏

Dream home (if there were no obstacles, financial or otherwise): She'd love to live in the English countryside. Maybe in Norfolk, near her family's garden. A medium sized cottage that could house her family, where she can do whatever she wants inside.

Dream life: Wherever Ghost is with their children (they'll get it).

---

Tagging @pricescigar @adlerboi @applbottmjeens and YOU! 🫵

[mxtantrights]

Hiya, boxer!jason anon here again! I see he has stuck around in your mind (honestly who can blame you?), hence why today i bring forth: boxer!jason and children. THE MAN LOVES THEM YOU CANNOT CONVINCE ME OF ANYTHING ELSE

So yeah, these are my two cents for today :)))

(Also, may i get an anon name pls?🥺🥺)

a/n: thank you anon!! <33 I love love love you for sending this in. and yes you can pick an anon name or an emoji just send me an inbox!!

right off the bat you figure out that boxer!Jason and kids go together like peanut butter and jelly. One calls to the other, they are almost always found together if they are in the same space.

It starts when you and boxer!Jason go to the park for a walk. You're just chatting and talking about your lives together. And then all of a sudden you have a penchant for ice cream. You stop by a small shop and pick up a scoop for him and you to share.

But the time you come back boxer!Jason is running down a hill with a few kids. They're all beating him which you know is on purpose because he runs regularly.

And it happens again on a few other occasions.

Like when boxer!Jason takes you to a bookstore. He lets you have free range of the bookshelves. Says to go crazy. And you do. You pick up like six or seven books. And when you go to hand them off to boxer!Jason he's not there.

You go looking around, thinking he might be in the Jane Austen section. But as you're walking over there, you pass the kids section. And there he is. He's bent over, in the shape of a bridge, and letting the kids crawl underneath him.

You just laugh as you watch him egg the kids on.

On a more personal note, you have a little cousin. And when he comes over for the summer boxer!Jason is his favorite person. The two of them are a pair of thieves.

Wherever boxer!Jason goes, your cousin follows. If boxer!Jason is going to the gym, your little cousin is there bright and early acting like the water boy. If boxer!Jason is setting up something in the house, your cousin is his little assistant. boxer!Jason says that he reminds him of his brothers. How cunning and quick he is. How he cares for animals and is nestled in innocence.

boxer!Jason is probably great with kids because he understands how rough his upbringing was and wants to offer the opposite of that to kids.

[bridgertonblue]

I love the fact that before the trailer even dropped I said we were getting a Jane Austen’s Emma inspired season of Bridgerton and they straight up NAME DROPPED EMMA IN EPISODE 1!

I literally SCREAMED when Eloise said that that was what she was reading, and now that I’ve had more time to really think about it it makes her story arc/mannerisms in this season make a ton more sense. She’s always peaking around corners, asking Colin probing questions, and openly engaging in idle gossip about the situation between Penelope and Colin. And yes, the Whistledown of it all, I get that, but when you add in the fact that she’s reading Emma, a story about two life long friends/neighbors who fall in love, it makes her nosiness make ALL THE SENSE.

She NEVER noticed anything between Colin and Penelope before this season, she was always way more occupied in finding Whistledown or talking to Theo about women’s suffrage, etc etc. But she picks up a romance novel, and she almost immediately clocks into what’s going on between Colin and Penelope.

I can understand why she’s enjoyed Emma, especially after what happened between her and Pen because Emma is largely about platonic friendship. Yes, two friends(Knightley and Emma) fall in love at the end, but the majority of the novel is Emma trying to maintain her friendship with Harriet, who she absolutely cherishes. Emma, out of concern/a little selfishness, tries to set up Harriet with a well to do guy who lives in town so she can keep Harriet close to her, societally speaking. It fails miserably and Harriet gets hurt, which destroys Emma. She tries to set her up with Frank Churchill(oddly enough the guy everyone thought she’d end up dating) but Harriet falls for Knightley instead.

Knightley, Emma’s oldest friend/friend of the family(technically brother in law?), someone who she’s known since childhood, her closest neighbor, the guy she see’s nearly everyday, someone she never thought would ever marry because he’s always at her house and never talks or shows interest in any other women(but her which she’s oblivious too). Someone who always finds her and talks to her at every ball and every gathering, someone who’s opinion she values more then everyone else’s. And Harriet, her girl bestie, is in love with him, and oh god, what is this feeling? Why is watching Knightley and Harriet walk around and chat so painful?? Then Emma realizes, “oh shit, I’m in love with my best friend, I’m in love with Knightley”.

And when Knightley finally gets around to telling Emma how he feels, she’s not ecstatic or thrilled or happy, she’s UPSET because it means her bestie, Harriet, is about to be hurt by her actions AGAIN. The man she’s in love with tells her he loves her in a beautiful passionate speech, and all she can think about is “oh god what about Harriet??” Emma apolgizes and tries to fix things and Harriet finds a way to forgive her, and the weight of that forgiveness and having her friend back almost means more to her then getting to be with Knightley.

So, yeah, I can see how Eloise would connect with that novel. I can see how she’d open her eyes and notice the similarities between Knightley/Emma and Colin/Penelope, I can see how she’d enjoy the story of two girl besties fighting and figuring out a way to move forward and be friends again.

Anyway, that’s my rant. If you made it to the bottom of this long ass post then bless you!

[seravphs]

Act One, Chapter One: half agony, half hope

Knights are bound by duty and honor, but Gojo is more devoted to his princess than he ever was to his oaths.

Main Masterlist | AO3

wc — 10k

tags — royal au, knight gojo, princess reader, forbidden love, ballroom scene, dancing, court politics, blood, minor character death, period-typical misogyny, complicated relationships with fathers, secret meetings, flouting social etiquette by sneaking out to meet your childhood best friend who is also your loyal knight, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Next: the beginning of devotion (coming soon)

He was so still Shoko almost mistook him for a dead body. It was a common misunderstanding in her line of business, but not one she was usually startled by. As a poisoner, legally and officially a herbalist, the occasional corpse on her table wasn’t such an unexpected occurrence. A lord, on the other hand, was. 

Especially if it was him.   

Gojo Satoru wasn’t just a lord. He was the son of the former Hand of the King, the greatest swordsman in living history, and connected to the princess. There wasn’t a man alive who didn’t know the Gojo name. It was synonymous with the royal house itself as the clan that had produced scores of advisors to the king. In nearly every generation, the heir to the throne was accompanied by a Gojo, acting as a living sword and shield. 

But even with that storied history, this one was special. A young man who had risen to prominence during The Silent War, he returned home from hell as a knight unlike any other. The bards would adore him. They already did. 

Most generals earned their titles by leading campaigns. Gojo hadn’t needed one. He turned the tides of the war as a single man army. They had started calling him a grim reaper, a god of death. 

Shoko disliked him on principle, but she couldn’t kill a man like that. They’d have her head on a pike. She didn’t mind the idea of dying so much. What she did shrink from was the idea of dying painfully. 

The princess was known for abstaining from most decisions involving the crown despite being in line to inherit it, but Shoko somehow doubted that she would remain so passive if her favorite knight was murdered. Thankfully, Gojo let out a soft breath to show her that he did remain among the living. 

“I thought you died,” she remarked. 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” 

She said something else, but Gojo wasn’t listening anymore. He was floating through a shapeless world again, chasing that moment. It slipped away from him despite his redoubled attempts to capture it. He remembered the tang of iron in his mouth. Blood spraying in the air, a mist that he could smell and taste. The leather grip of his sword in his hands, slippery with sweat. 

He was trying to win back enlightenment, briefly attained and lost again just as quickly on the battlefield. A feeling of deep and solid peace had settled over him as he hacked through bodies, as if that was what he was meant to do. It should’ve concerned him. He already confused the ever thinning boundary between man and monster. That bloodshed brought him such euphoric tranquility could only mean it was growing worse, but he hated things he couldn’t understand. 

He needed to experience it again. Just one more time, so he could make sense of it. The smell of blood. Wading through the dead and the dying, thigh deep in gore - it was no use. Frustrated, he let it go. 

There was something soothing about the cracks in the ceiling. He stared up at it, letting his breaths come as shallowly as they had while he had been immersed in his meditative state. Shoko’s basement was chilly and dark, but it was necessary for the illegal autopsies she performed at his request. Those, and the poisons she crafted for him, were its primary purpose. It was only a stroke of luck that these qualities were also helpful for his attempts to recover his short-lived state of grace. 

He was tempted to try again, but not today. There was someone too precious to keep waiting if he delayed any longer. He wouldn’t impose upon her the way he often imposed on the elder lords who tried to remind him of his place by pulling rank. While they deserved his spite, she didn’t. 

Even Shoko was surprised by his sudden desire for punctuality. “You’re not going to stay?”

“I have a princess to rescue,” he said. “Dragons to slay, things of that nature.” 

Shoko scoffed. “You are the dragon they have to save princesses from.”

Well, Gojo thought as he hurried down the corridor, she wasn’t wrong. He was sure others agreed with her. He didn’t waste his time with children’s tales anymore, but he remembered his mother’s voice whispering to him in the dark, curled around him in his bed. A dragon was a tool to lock princesses away. His presence deterred anyone from coming too near to his princess, so by that definition, he was most certainly a dragon. 

Gojo found that he was a little proud of himself for that. Thinking of his mother had made him nostalgic. He thought she might be proud too, that he had taken such good care of the princess she herself had looked after. A dragon might trap, but it also guarded and hoarded. He had polished his princess like a treasure, lavishing her with attention until she had become a gem. 

She was beautiful. 

He was a soldier, so he had long since rid himself of the ability to lose his breath, but if he still could, he would’ve choked at the sight of her when he broke past the doors. She was seated so that the eye of anyone who entered the ballroom would be drawn to her first, but he would’ve found her regardless. He had promised. 

Wherever you were, he would always find you. 

It’s difficult to hide, being as tall as he is, but Gojo managed. He didn’t want you to see him coming. Already, he has to bite his lip to fight down his smile as he draws closer and closer. A few more steps, a detour to duck behind some random noble, and he’s in front of you. 

“May I?” You don’t have a chance to speak before he’s already dragging a chair closer. 

The smile on your face doesn’t match the harsh delivery of your words. “The next time you leave me alone with these miserable fools, I’ll order you to fall on your sword.”

Gojo laughs, unfazed. “Good choice. You’re too pretty to get your hands dirty. Although, you are a bit more murderous than expected for a princess.” 

“You try putting up with Naoya’s simpering gibberish for an hour.”

“I don’t have to.” He slips into the chair beside you, avoiding you neatly when you try to trip him. “Watch your feet, my lady. People like me don’t have to put up with Naoya.” 

People like you shouldn’t have to, either. You’re both higher ranking than he is, a princess and a lord each, yet Gojo’s the only one who gets to escape his painful-to-witness affections. 

It’s only natural. A royal dowry comes attached to you. Any eligible man would have to be an idiot not to fight for your hand, but really, they’re vying for a chance at kingship. You can’t go one day without someone reminding you that you’re a physical embodiment of the crown, something to want and own. 

Gojo pours himself water with a heavy hand, bypassing the wine. Watching him sip at it, you realize you’ve actually never seen him drink.

“Come now,” he says, a little softer. “Don’t look so desolate. What will I do if everyone sees you pouting? You’ll ruin my reputation.”  

“You don’t have a reputation to ruin.” 

“Don’t underestimate the things I’d do for the smallest sign of joy from you. Shall I procure one right now to destroy for your amusement?” 

You know he wants you to smile, but you can’t. Even if Gojo can usually pry laughter from you with the ease of a trained jester, this time, your sadness weighs over you like a heavy wool cloak. It’s your birthday, but it’s not a happy occasion. Every passing year tightens the noose around your neck. 

You’re a princess, and that means your life was arranged for you before you breathed your first breath. There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ve never had a choice. 

“Don’t,” he whispers. 

“Don’t what?” 

“Don’t make that face,” he says. “I’d marry you. If it came down to it, I’d take care of you.” 

His words nearly cause you to spill your drink all over your finely embroidered dress. If it set in, it would never come out. He grasps your hand just as the cup begins to tip, saving you. 

“Did you mistake your water for wine?” It’s a genuine question from you. 

He waves his goblet around carelessly. You’re worried he might be actually drunk, but you smell no alcohol on him. He couldn’t get inebriated from just a sip, anyway. Whatever wild whims have overtaken him tonight are entirely of his own design. 

“Better me than Naoya, no? I’d keep you safe.” He cracks a crooked smile in your direction, like you’re sharing a secret. “Admit it. I’d be a good husband. If I were around, you’d be untouchable.” 

He’s telling the truth. If Gojo Satoru was your husband, no one would dare anything with you, but you chase the idea from your mind as quickly as Gojo plants it. You’re your father’s daughter, raised on his practicality. You don’t waste time on pipe dreams. Better the hideous truth than a lie costumed in beauty - the bite of thorns was infinitely preferable to the impermanent fantasy of petals. 

Instead of answering him, you push your plate in his direction. You don’t even have to ask. Gojo dutifully takes your knife and fork in hand to cut up your meat. “Not even going to consider it, princess? I’m hurt. That was a serious offer, you know.” 

“You’re insufferable. Be quiet and eat.” 

Gojo’s mother used to say that the more adamantly someone denied something, the closer to the truth it likely was. You can only hope Gojo doesn’t remember, because she was right. The reason you won’t give him even an inch on the topic of marriage is because a proposal from him is the only thing you want but can’t have. 

Predictably, he ignores you. He’s never known when to quit. With so little that can genuinely stand in his way, Gojo has difficulty understanding the concept of a limitation. You’re both spoiled in that sense, noble children who had never been told no. 

“Think about it,” he says casually. “We’d be invincible. What other house could stand before our union?”

“I said- hello, father.” 

“A little early to be calling- oh, hello, Your Majesty. You look well tonight. Is that a new ring?” 

Your father cuffs Gojo around the ears. “Brat.” 

He’s in a good mood, then. 

“My little girl,” he says to you. “How pretty you look. I’m surprised no one has stolen you away from me yet.” 

You’re not so little anymore, but you forgive him. It’s just the two of you, ever since the queen died. He’s the reason you are what you are, as cultivated as a rose in a greenhouse. The climate that nurtured you is one carefully tailored by his own hand. 

“Not for lack of trying,” Gojo says brightly. 

“Boy,” your father calls him, despite the fact that Gojo isn’t a boy either. A deep sigh escapes his lungs. He looks truly sorrowful for a moment. “You look just like your mother.” 

Gojo’s smile freezes on his face. It’s true, he does. Through him, the king’s former hand lives again, but you know Gojo doesn’t want to be seen as an extension of her, even if he misses her more than anything. 

You’re familiar with the way your father knows exactly what to say to make you feel small again. The king is someone who exudes power. His uncanny ability to pick out what you’re most sensitive to and exploit it makes even the most proud of noblemen revert to children in his presence, as if they’ve been scolded by a nanny for stealing tarts from the kitchen. It’s strange that you feel the need to protect Gojo, the strongest person you know, from that. 

He reaches out and pats Gojo’s cheek now that he’s reduced him to silence. “Enjoy the night, my dear child.” 

When he leaves, Gojo slumps back in his chair with a tick in his jaw. Even if the king is your father, he can’t help himself. “Nasty old man,” he mutters. 

You pinch his thigh beneath the table. “Smile and look pretty.”

“Ugh, who is it now?”

“Lord Zenin and his son haven’t gotten their fill of tormenting me.” 

“Hm,” Gojo says. “I wonder.” 

“If you have a plan to avoid them, hurry. They’re nearly here.” 

“I don’t know,” he teases. “I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

“Yes, well, I don’t like conversation with Sir Zenin very much either.” 

He grabs your hand. “Then you’ll forgive me for anything that happens tonight?” 

“Anything is questionable, but do as you please.” 

He tugs you from your seat, pulling you through the crowd of people. Caught in his wake, you float past faces familiar and unfamiliar until the patriarch of House Zenin and his infernal spawn fade behind you. 

When you turn to face him again, he’s dipped into a bow. His smile is sweet, boyish. It’s as if you’re children again, and he’s stolen you from your lessons to waltz in an empty ballroom, motes of dust that you’ve stirred up floating in the sunbeams. 

He extends his hand, a sapphire burning on one finger. A dragon curls around the silver band of the ring, a nod to his heritage. Though the Gojos are a powerful and ancient house, in this moment, Gojo looks young, foolish, and all the better for it. 

“May I have this dance, my lady?” 

You giggle, wishing you had a fan to pretend to hide behind. You’re playing pretend again, acting as if you’re characters from a storybook.

“I’d be delighted to, my lord.” 

The music swells. Gojo takes your hand and presses a kiss to your bare knuckles. His lips are soft against your skin, temptation incarnate. In his grasp, your fingers tremble slightly, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. 

You’re terrified by how much you want him. 

If you let him in for one second, you can imagine how easy it would be to never stop. He’s every one of your desires and hopes made manifest, tied up in a single person. Although it’s impossible, you still feel the heat of him. The warmth of his lips linger on you, a stolen moment before he sweeps you up in his arms.

This is how you remember he’s a boy no longer. The breadth of his shoulders is wide. He’s lost the roundness of youth, his face growing angular and cunning. There’s solid muscle underneath your hands as he pulls you with him, his feet beating a steady rhythm that you have to fight to keep up with. 

He’s doing it on purpose, you know, testing how much you still retained all of those years of tutoring. You’re determined to show him they weren’t for naught. 

When you catch your breath and master the music once more, gliding with him rather than being tugged along, he smiles like he always expected you to. He’s been like this since you were young, dangling challenges in front of you that he’s equally as excited to see you pass as fail. 

The music slows. All around you, the frantic steps melt into slow swaying. You’re feeling brave tonight, so you step closer. You allow the arm curled more tightly around your waist, the tender look in his eyes. When you steal a glance around, no one is watching the two of you, but how far can you go before you lose it all? 

“Don’t talk to Naoya again,” he murmurs against your skin. It tickles, and you squirm until he presses so close it petrifies you. “I don’t like the rumors around him.”

“What rumors?”

“Bad ones. He tumbles girls and leaves them with nothing. Hurts them, takes whatever he wants, and ruins their lives. I don’t trust him, and especially not with you.” His hand smoothes over a stray ruffle on your petticoat, the gesture impossibly loving. “Never with you, princess.” 

You shudder at the way he says princess, feeling cut open, exposed. What has gotten into him tonight? You don’t understand. It feels like drowning, your brain always three steps behind, struggling to break the waves of your confusion. 

You know you’re weak. It’s your name that protects you, the threat of your father and the royal house behind you. Alone, you’re a lamb to slaughter. You’ve been spoiled your whole life, leaving you naive and helpless. 

Gojo is someone you trust implicitly. He’s always protected you. You’ve relied on him for as long as you’ve been alive, but perhaps that’s conditioned you to feel comfortable putting your hand into the mouth of the beast. Even at the chance of exposing how poorly you’ve been trained for the court’s schemes, you don’t hold back when you’re with him. He makes you feel at ease to speak freely without fearing how much you’ll reveal of your own vulnerabilities. 

“I can’t,” you tell him honestly. “House Zenin is one of the Three Great Houses. I can’t refuse Naoya without good reason.” 

“Then marry me,” he says softly. “Marry me and be done with all of this. They don’t deserve you, anyway. They won’t treat you like I will.” 

You close your eyes, feeling the telltale hotness of incoming tears burn behind your eyelids. Why did he do this to you? He was so gentle it hurt, even though you knew he was capable of terrible things. Somehow that made it worse, the knowledge that he was choosing to be kind. 

“You should go,” you say instead. 

Marriage between you and Gojo would never happen. Forget your father. An alliance between the strongest house and the royal house? It would be akin to tyranny. There would be blood in the streets before any of the other nobles would allow it. It’s better not to dream about impossible desires. 

Thorns, not petals, you remind yourself. You can suffer the truth. 

“Why?” He says. “I want to stay with you. I want to be good to you.” 

“This isn’t something to joke about, Satoru.” He looks like he’d rather you have slapped him. “Never talk to me about this again. Find someone else to dance with.” 

There. Your brain snags on something to distract you. You’ve been dancing with him for too long. It’ll reflect poorly on your reputation to give an unmarried man so much of your attention. 

“Pick another partner,” you urge him. 

His brow creases. Stubbornly, he holds onto you even tighter. “Don’t want to.” 

“You have to. Everyone will whisper. I’m surprised they aren’t already.”

“Then let them,” he pleads. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.” 

Regretfully, you pull away. Darkness clouds his beautiful face. It’s unnatural. When you remember him, he’s always smiling. The instances when he directs a genuine frown at you are few and far between, but you’ve already made your decision. 

Gojo stalks off in search of a new partner. Somehow, even though you were the one who forced him to leave, your heart stings to watch his back fade into the distance. If you didn’t want him to go, you shouldn’t have said anything. This is what you hoped for. Still, it’s painful. 

You want to find somewhere to rest after your spat, drained from a rare argument with him, but nowhere is secluded enough for you to let your guard down. Suddenly, you feel a wave of hatred for your stupid, glittering palace and the stupid, glittering fools infesting it. You just fought with your best friend and you’re tired, but you still have to keep up appearances. 

Somewhere nearby, Gojo is spinning another girl, her skirts flaring out around them. You wish you could press your palms to your eyes, letting the pressure relieve your headache, but you’ve shown enough weakness tonight. Instead, you tilt your head back and breathe, trying to appear calm and in control. 

It’s a good thing you restrained yourself, because Naoya is the one that finds you. His shoes are the first thing you see, black leather with steel accents. Steel, not silver, because he wants it to hurt when he kicks. 

You know. You’ve heard the stories. 

“Abandoned by Satoru, my lady?” You hate the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. Gojo makes it sound so intimate, like it’s for you and him only. Naoya’s version is a bastardization, much like the man himself. 

You’re too tired to deal with him, and yet, you’ll have to. House Zenin is important to your father and thus, important to you, especially when you inevitably replace him. “What are you insinuating about your princess, Sir Zenin?”

You use the proper address, the way he should’ve spoken about Gojo. They’re not close enough for him to be calling the other man by his first name. 

“Nothing, nothing,” he says. “Don’t get defensive now.”

You want to tell one of the knights stationed around the hall to drag him away. Instead, you smile and let him prattle on. Court politics. If you ever want to prove to your father you deserve everything you’ve been born into, you have to play the game. No matter how terrible some of the players are. 

“Since you graced Satoru with one, I hope you wouldn’t mind another dance.” 

Turning him down isn’t an option, but when you see that everyone’s watching, you realize even more how much it really isn’t an option. He probably arranged it that way too. Demonspawn. You’d curse his house if you could, instead, you offer him your hand, cringing internally when he tries kissing it. 

You can’t help but compare the two. Gojo did it better. 

Like any son of a high born house, Naoya’s a good dancer. It’s the one compliment you’re willing to grace him with, as everything else about him, especially his personality, is hideous. His hand is solid against your upper back, the other leading you as you spin around the room. It makes you want to scrub yourself clean, even under the layers of clothes. 

You’re doing this for your house. Your throne. This is nothing. None of your mantras diminish your desire to shove Naoya’s head in the cake waiting at the banquet table. 

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” he tells you. 

“Forwardness is unbecoming in a man,” you say with a smile, as if he’s telling you the sweetest nothings. “What would my father say?”

“Don’t play coy, princess. We both know how this ends.” 

“Please excuse me,” you say as soon as the song ends. One is enough. “I find myself rather dizzy.” 

Naoya’s lips whiten with anger. He tries to grab your wrist, but someone steps between you. “Watch your hands with Her Royal Highness, Zenin. I won’t tolerate your disrespect.” 

Naoya’s eyes flash, but the interloper is sweeping you away already. His hands hover above your dress, never actually touching, as he guides you in the opposite direction. 

“Sir Getou, what are you doing?” 

Getou looks down on you in amusement once you’re a safe distance away. “Satoru sent me to rescue you, of course. I didn’t think he was serious when he said you would get into trouble without him.”

“Trouble finds me,” you reply archly. 

“Yes, yes,” he placates, sparking annoyance even though he just saved you from Naoya. “Are you tired of dancing yet, or do you have room for one more? I’m hoping to make an impression on potential wives by dancing with the princess.”

You’re smart enough to know that one more is rarely truly one more, but Getou did save you from Naoya. Besides, if you’re busy with him, no one else can ask for your hand. 

“I suppose I can spare you a dance.” 

Like Gojo, Getou is an adept dancer. He is, after all, a trained court noble, and the sons of House Getou are unusually predisposed to the arts in any case. If the Gojos are known for their strength, the Getous are known for their crafts. 

Getou doesn’t flinch from your unwavering gaze. If anything, he seems to find it amusing, although in the way one would find a puppy amusing. Gently, he leads you around the ballroom. 

“Stay alert, my lady. Someone’s watching you,” Getou warns. 

You follow his gaze to Gojo. There’s a beautiful woman in his arms that takes you no time at all to place, so infamous is her notoriety. Yuki of House Tsukumo is second only to Gojo in her blatant disrespect for everything the elders held dear. 

They make a striking couple. Everywhere they go, heads turn to watch them pass. Her gold to his silver, her lion to his dragon - it would be a powerful match. They would be perfect for each other, if only because no one would be able to challenge each other like they could. 

Excellent dancers each, together they become an instrument for the music to shine through. Getou is gentle with you, each movement as delicate as lilies floating across the surface of a pond. In contrast, Gojo and Yuki dance like they’re fighting, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. They’re magnetic, drawing every eye in the room to watch them. 

Everyone else may be entranced by the pair of them, but the pair itself seems disinterested in the crowd around them. Yuki’s eyes are closed but Gojo-

Gojo’s looking at you. Your cheeks heat with his attention. His stare is intense, eyes half-lidded. Every move is prowling, almost predatory. His eyes remain fixated on your face as he and Yuki move in a complicated, sinuous series of circles. There’s something impossibly filthy about his gaze. It borders on indecency, combined with the way he barely seems to be paying attention to dancing, giving you all of his focus instead.

“We can’t let them steal all the attention,” Getou says. He really is Gojo’s brother-in-arms. “Let’s give them a show.” 

You’ve never been trained in statecraft, but you’ve been given the very finest of tutors in the elegant manners of the court. A show, as Getou puts it, is more than within your capabilities. You close your senses to the rest of the world, focusing on the shift of your skirts and Getou’s quiet voice as your steps weave intricate patterns across the floor. 

He’s a naturally friendly man. It’s easy to talk to him, whispering between each peak in the music. Although he’s friends with Gojo, your social circles rarely overlap enough for you to spend much time in Getou’s company. You’re almost surprised by how much you enjoy it. 

“I think it’s time to change partners,” calls a familiar voice.

As Getou takes the hands of Lady Yuki, her eyes still closed as she sways, someone takes his place. Gojo’s hand slides from where Getou’s were placed appropriately on your upper back down to your hip. You drag them back up, ignoring his pout. He’ll be your last dance of the night. 

“Should I be worried about being replaced?” He murmurs. 

“It was only one turn,” you tell him. 

“And I never want to do it again,” he says. “The other girls don’t dance like you do.” 

He’s an unrepentant liar. You might have been tutored by the best dancers your father could find, but at this level, first and second place might as well be interchangeable. He’s only saying it so you know that he wanted to come back to you, despite the fact that you forced him away. 

Gojo’s a contradiction wrapped inside a paradox, at once sadistic and merciful. No one’s capable of making you feel as much as he does. Without the guidance of formal tutors to give you the education of a prince, you have no idea how to navigate the dangerous world of alliances and betrayals, war and peace. Once, you clumsily blundered through diplomacy, watching your father’s disappointment grow by the hour. You’ve since learned that complete silence is preferable to gaucheness. At least that is something your education as a princess has taught you. 

But Gojo knew you before you grew into the woman you are now. He still remembers how to pull smiles and tears from you, how to push you to the brink of exasperation and coax you into brilliant happiness. He has a key to all the gates you’ve erected. No matter what you do, he always slips past your defenses. 

If you keep letting him do as he pleases, you’ll be the only one who loses. Gojo is a man. If he’s rumored to be attached to the princess, it’ll elevate his reputation. He’s already the best swordsman in the entire kingdom. Being thought of as a profligate would only make them worship him more. People love a little hint of degeneracy to their heroes - not too much to make them immoral, but enough to make them attainable. 

A princess is not a hero. You’re not someone to attain, you’re someone to obtain. When people look at you, they only see the crown. If you’re thought of as a ruined woman, it would prevent you from finding a husband. It would destabilize the entire kingdom. 

It hurts to realize that you’re that selfish. Gojo would’ve chosen you over anything, but you’re letting something as empty as reputation displace him. 

Not that it’s exactly a choice. Your life has been forfeit since you were born. You don’t belong to yourself, but to the royal house. As the only child of the king, you can’t allow yourself any mistakes, not when even the barest twitch of your fingers is scrutinized. 

When Gojo offers to escort you back to your chambers at the end of the night, you swallow down the desire to agree. His eyes are hopeful, mirroring your own expression. It could be like back then, when you were children, running through the halls of the grand palace without a care in the world. Except you know you can never return to the halcyon days of your childhood, before your mother died, before his mother disappeared, before everything went wrong. You try not to let the disappointment on his face bother you when you allow the knight your father sent to bring you back to your rooms instead. 

You attribute the strange feeling you get in the morning to the leftover melancholy of last night. Sunlight trickles across your face lazily, not enough to raise you from your bed but just bright enough to remind you that morning was here. 

You’ve never slept long enough for the sun to warm your face while you were still entangled in your sheets before. The window faces your bed at such an awkward angle that the sun has to be high in the sky before it can light across your pillows. 

Usually a maid wakes you by now if you aren’t up already. Where were they? 

A gentle knock at the door only makes you more apprehensive. It can’t be Utahime. You know the sound of her steps. The pacing is stilted, awkward, as if whoever was behind the door was nervous. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, princess!” Definitely nervous. Not a voice you can recognize. A new maid, perhaps? But why would they-

The door bursts open. You scream as a cloaked figure lunges at you. She throws herself on top of you, trying to pin you to the bed so she can run you through with the knife she has raised in her left hand. 

She’s crying. “You weren’t supposed to be awake!”

Crying and angry. Fluffy white down bursts into the air, obscuring your vision as she stabs a pillow so brutally it vomits its contents. She’s not very good, which explains her terror. Unfortunately, you aren’t very good either, and you’re pinned underneath her. Thrashing doesn’t work - at the very least, she’s stronger than you, if badly trained. 

When she finally immobilizes you, she has a growing bruise over her arm from a terrible punch you had thrown, trying to mimic the way Gojo does it. Keeping your thumb outside your fist was all you remembered, and it went wide. You barely managed to hit her, and it came with a cost. She snags your wrist and pins it down. 

The knife plunges towards you. It’s rusty, which terrifies you almost as much as the implement itself. If by some miracle you survived, you’d be at risk of infection. 

Blue eyes flash before you. In this moment, an inch away from death, you wish you had gotten to say goodbye to him. Fear robs you of rationality. You don’t know anything but that you want to see him one more time and feel the warmth of his embrace. 

“Princess, it’s okay. I’m here.” 

You crack an eye open. The girl is no longer visible. The only person leaning over you now has white hair and the characteristic Gojo eyes, impossible to fake. You decide you must’ve died already. This is heaven, where your wishes have been granted. 

Gojo pulls you up. His hands are warm and solid. Vaguely, you realize that you’re trembling with the same nonchalant distance that you would use to catalog the color of the pillows. 

“You’re not dead yet.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

He chuckles. His thumb is rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “No, I could just tell by the look in your eyes.” 

“The girl…”

“Dead.” 

You scramble to the edge of your bed and peek over. Sure enough, she’s lying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat has been cut so surely her head is nearly separated from her body. 

You gag. 

“Wait,” Gojo says. He kneels to tear off her cloak and holds it in front of you. “Here, princess.”

You don’t want to give in to your queasiness, especially not when he himself is so stoic, so you shake your head. More insistently, he pushes it towards you. 

“It’s only natural,” he soothes. “I’m used to this. You’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“Just come here,” you say weakly. “No, actually. I’ll come to you.” 

“Give me a second,” he says, dropping to his knees. Under the bed, he retrieves your silk slippers. He slips them onto your feet gently, standing when he’s finished with his task. 

Obligingly, he waits as you gingerly step over the girl. When your slipper threatens to dip into the red stain spreading across your floor, he simply grabs you underneath the armpits and lifts you over it. 

Even though it’s a horrific scene, you can’t look away. Her face is frozen in a still mask. Bile fills your stomach. Gojo gently turns your head in another direction with two fingers, the touch delicate. “Don’t look.” 

“I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“I told you not to restrain yourself,” he says disapprovingly.

“You’re not- you’re-“ You can’t figure out the right way to finish your sentence. “Does it really get that easy?” 

His laugh is short and brutal. “Easy? I didn’t even think about it. All I know how to do is kill. I don’t mind it, for you.” 

You shake your head. There’s nothing to say, with a body between you and blood pooling around both your shoes, but still, your heart aches. You had known him when he was a boy. It would always be hard to see him with calluses where once his hands had been chubby and soft. 

He chucks you under the chin, the gesture fleetingly affectionate. “Don’t be so despondent, princess. I’m glad to do it. That’s what knights are for.” 

Knights and maids, all meant to lay down their life or other lives for you at your convenience. Utahime was too loyal to have let an assassin into your chambers by choice. Your breath catches. It concerns him that you’re teetering into upset again, just when he’s calmed you down. 

“Satoru, is Iori-“ The thought is too horrible. You can’t finish it. 

“She’s not dead,” he says. 

Noticeably, he doesn’t say that she’s alright. 

Utahime will be scarred forever. They found her slumped at the bottom of the stairs, her body dumped unceremoniously after they stole her from outside your bedroom. A massive gash opened her right cheek up, crossing just slightly over her nose bridge. 

You almost can’t bear to look at her. Not because her scar makes her hideous - far from it. Utahime will always be beautiful to you. The scar is only a reminder of how you’ve failed her. 

You’re a princess without any power.  All you can do is fuss over her after the fact, unable to change the past. 

“Princess,” she hisses, jerking away from you for the third time in as many minutes. “You must stop! I’m your lady-in-waiting, not the other way around.” 

“You got hurt for me,” you say, hands balled helplessly at your side. You refuse to touch her more aggressively, for fear of aggravating her wound. The bandages wrapped around her cheek are an ever present reminder of how much she’s sacrificed for you. So are the whispers. The looks. She holds her head high, acting as if it doesn’t bother her. 

“I was glad to do it. I didn’t want to be shipped off to some far away baron anyway. Be grateful,” she cracks a smile you don’t feel. “I certainly am. At least I could still join the church, if anything.” 

Why do the people around you insist on destroying themselves for your benefit? 

“You don’t need a baron.” Loyally, you vow, “I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Be careful, my lady. Some would take that as a marriage proposal, and then I’d have twice as many death threats.”

“I’d protect you.”

“You, princess? I doubt that,” Gojo calls. 

You’ve been watching the knights move in and out of the arena from your vantage point on the royal balcony, but very few of them have dared to address you, much less speak to you so casually. They’re all too focused on the tourney you’re set to watch this afternoon. Only he would be so familiar with you and so unconcerned about the sparring, knowing his chances. 

Utahime lets out an aggressive sigh with no regard as to whether or not Gojo could hear her. In fact, she’d probably prefer it if he had overheard. Gojo, for his part, ignores the chance to antagonize her for once in his life in order to focus on you.  

“You know, my lady, I’ve heard an interesting rumor going around.” 

You walk to the edge of the balcony and peer over the railing. Utahime gasps in fear and grabs onto your petticoats, afraid that you’ll tip over the fencing. “Go on, Sir Gojo,” you say. 

“If a fair damsel grants a knight her favor, he’ll fight ten times as well. Twenty, even. And all the more so if it’s the princess, who everyone knows is the fairest in the land.”

Unwillingly, a smile twitches to life upon your lips. “Is that so?”

“Won’t you grant your most loyal knight a token of your affection?”

“Don’t,” Utahime gripes. “What has he done to deserve it?”

A scrap of pale blue fabric flutters in the light breeze, reminiscent of doves. Gojo catches the ribbon you’ve loosed from your hair, his fist enclosed in armor. He brings it to his lips for a chaste kiss he can’t place upon you. The entire time, his eyes are on yours, searching. 

“I’ll win this whole thing,” he says. “I’ll defeat every knight here for you.” 

The trumpets blow, calling the contestants. He’ll be wanted. Utahime shakes you lightly as he leaves your sight. “Get yourself together,” she says sternly. 

“But mama, I love him!” You joke. 

Her frown can’t last in the face of your teasing smile. She fixes the lace on your sleeve and collar, though they’re hardly ruffled. She can’t help herself. It’s her second nature to dote on you. 

“Ah, my princess,” she sighs. “You worry me.” 

You poke her uninjured cheek, trying to get her to smile. “It’s not me. You worry too much.”

Another voice cuts in. “I feel the same way sometimes, my dear Lady Utahime, but I trust no one more than you. Her mother left her to your capable hands, after all.” 

Your father has arrived. Utahime smiles as the king kisses her cheek, but you can’t. You know he means it lightheartedly, but it galls you all the more that he says it so blithely. When your mother fell ill, Utahime had been the one who took charge of looking after you. 

Not your father. 

Not your only living parent, the man who was supposed to feel all the closer to you for your loss. Instead, he pushed you away. 

You knew you weren’t being fair. 

The king had been wracked with grief over the passing of his beloved wife. Along with his other royal duties, he couldn’t possibly have been expected to watch over an infant as well. You know better than anyone the toll the crown takes on a man. Stewardship of this land asks a heavy price. It’s not an easy role. 

No, you can’t blame your father for choosing the country. It’s his duty, as it is yours.

You only wish it hadn’t been Utahime’s burden to carry instead. She was just a few years older, a child still when she had raised another child. In many ways, she had been a mother to you. Only now that you’ve grown older than she had been back then do you understand how much responsibility she had accepted at such a young age. 

Your father turns to you. “Are you enjoying the tournament?”

“It’s barely started. Only the squires have been jousting. We haven’t seen any of the real knights yet.” 

“Those squires will become knights themselves one day. Watch carefully, and you may discover a treasure worth keeping.”

As he speaks, you finally find someone worth watching, as if your father only had to say it to cause it to happen. A boy with rosy hair lunges towards his opponent. He disarms him and forces him to the ground - only to offer him his hand in exchange.  

The other squire hesitates. Doubt crosses his face. Finally, he accepts the proffered hand like someone expecting an attack at any minute, but all the other boy does is pull him to his feet and dust him off. He’s more honorable than most of the knights of the realm you know, too focused on humiliating their opponents to flaunt their own glory. 

Your father doesn’t notice your distraction. He’s still speaking. You bring yourself back to the conversation just in time to hear him say, “Sukuna, the King of the Curses.”

“Sorry?” You laugh. 

“It’s no laughing matter, I’m afraid,” your father says gravely. “He’s the ruler of the Western Kingdom, the land where the sun never sets. Perhaps he’s grown tired of his arid land and seeks gentler climes, for his invasions have earned him the title ‘King of Curses’.” 

Utahime’s lip curls in disgust. “King of Cruelty is more like it. I’ve heard of what he’s done to his prisoners. That man has no honor.”

“None,” your father agrees, “and yet it is necessary not to antagonize him. We are small if prosperous. We can’t afford it.”

Utahime looks as if she wants to speak, but she holds her tongue. She’s always been good at navigating the court. Trained under her, you wait as well. Taking your cues from her is something you’ve done since you were a child.

“Yes,” your father says, his eyes distant. He’s ruminating over something he won’t share. “He can’t be provoked. The representative he sent us for this tourney must be carefully attended to.” 

That representative, Uraume, doesn’t fight like any knight you know. Their sword is wider than most of those found in your country, and half as tall as a man. Precision is lost in favor of brutality. They wreak havoc with the brutality of a butcher, tearing through the ranks of your best and strongest. Of course, he’s not the only strong fighter. There are other knights to watch as well. 

“That Lady Tsukumo is doing quite well for a woman,” your father notes in surprise. “What prodigious talent. I don’t think her house has produced a fighter like that in years.”

“She’s better than half your knights,” you remind him. “Lady Tsukumo already defeated most of her bracket.” 

“Yes, yes,” your father laughs. “You know I don’t mean it like that. I’m simply admiring her.” 

As the day progresses, clear victors emerge in each division of the tournament. Uraume is one of them. Gojo is another. 

They placed him against Getou for his penultimate match, knowing the crowd would go wild for a contest between not only two of the best knights of the realm, but sworn brothers. Although Getou is better than most, Gojo is more of a natural disaster than a real, human adversary. At the end of their round, Getou smiles even as Gojo brings him to his knees. 

The next round is even more hotly anticipated than Getou and Gojo’s. 

Gojo strides into the center of the arena with the classic arrogance he’s known for. He delights in riling the crowd up. They cheer louder and louder on each circuit he laps around the arena on his silver stallion, pale as moonlight. By the last, they’re nearly delirious with passion for him. 

Uraume has no such pretenses. They’re a cold creature, as frigid as they come. 

It matters not. Gojo beats them so easily that it can only be described as disrespectful. He rides past Uraume and thrusts the hilt of his sword into their stomach with such force they fall off their horse. Gojo dismounts casually. He hadn’t even used his blade. He flips Uraume onto their back with a boot and steps onto their breastplate, pinning them in place. His sword hovers underneath their chin, a whisper away from death. “Yield,” he says pleasantly. 

You, remembering your fathers speech about Sukuna’s chosen representative from that morning, glance to the side. He’s smiling as gently as ever. Underneath his cloak, where only you and Utahime can see, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles have turned white. 

After the match, you recognize one of the men rushing Uraume off to be one of your father’s most trusted advisors. He must be doing damage control, but then again, when is he not when Gojo’s around? 

Your father stands, as composed as if he had never been upset in the first place. You envy that self-control. You’ve always aspired to your father. In your eyes, he was the perfect ruler - perhaps because he was the one who taught you what a ruler should be. 

Gojo waits in the center of the arena. He’s beautiful as always, as fierce as an avenging angel. There’s a fine sweat beading at his temples in a way that makes you want to wipe it off with your handkerchief, but you abstain, knowing thousands are watching. 

Gojo has no such scruples. 

When it’s time for him to be awarded his laurel crown, he kneels - not to your father, but to you. A gasp rises from the crowd. You stifle your own shock. Here, where every sign of weakness is clearly visible and easily taken advantage of, you can’t reveal that this wasn’t planned. The royal family’s control over its retainers must appear immaculate - even if Gojo had always been uncontrollable. 

Wordlessly, your father passes you the laurel. You know something is brewing. He can only tolerate Gojo’s outlandish behavior so many times. But this isn’t the place to worry about your father’s incumbent wrath, so you take over the duties of honoring the victor. It’s easy. You’ve seen your father do it enough times to be able to replicate it in your sleep. 

Gojo rises from his knees, a hungry smile on his face. “I told you I’d win.” 

“That you did,” you reply noncommittally, trying to figure out how you’re going to discreetly get him out of the arena without your father attempting to try him for treason. 

He frowns. Knowing him and the type of maneuvers he’s likely to pull, you put a respectable amount of distance between the two of you as you mark his brow in gold paint. 

When you grasp his hand to lift his arm into the air, he presses something into your palm. Years of sharing secrets and playing pretend at espionage have trained you not to flinch. When you lower your enjoined hands, you slip the shred of paper he’s passed you into your pocket. 

People are cheering. You notice with warmth that he looks heroic, like he’s stepped right out of an old legend. Your father doesn’t seem to agree. 

Arguments between the two of you used to be few and far between, but lately it seems like you can’t do anything right. You’d forgotten what it was like to retreat to your parents’ bedroom for a scolding. It hadn’t happened since you were a child, yet here you were again, studying the fabric of the draperies to avoid eye contact with your father, just like you had when you were younger. 

“He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful,” you start. But that’s not true, and you know it. So you try again. “He wasn’t trying to cause problems. He cares about the kingdom, father. He was just trying to show off his - our - strength.” 

“Gojo is a liability.” How easily your father casts him off, marks him as defective. He’s always been like that - clinical in his appraisal. You lacked that precise, indifferent ruthlessness. You’ve tried. 

“He’s a good man, a good knight. House Gojo has always been loyal to us, father. Remember his mother? Remember Sorashi? She wouldn’t want you to treat her son like this.”

Your father flinches. First comes sorrow, then, anger. “Don’t speak to me about Sorashi.”

“You can’t just pretend like they never existed! Sorashi, my mother-“

“Child, you are testing my patience dangerously.” 

You fall silent, hating yourself for it. Always a child. Never someone worth listening to. 

“You don’t understand anything,” he says more gently. 

“I don’t understand anything because you won’t tell me anything!” 

“You’re a princess,” he snarls. “You’re not supposed to know anything!”

You reel back, stunned. You had always been afraid that this was how your father truly felt. 

“You have no sons, so it’s me or no one else.” Disgust fills you at the fear in your own voice. Weak. Pathetic. After all these years, the lessons your father gave you still haven’t sunk in. Perhaps he’s right, and you’re not fit for the throne after all. You’re still begging for what you want instead of demanding it like it’s what you deserve. A prince wouldn’t act like this, but you’re not a prince - only a girl who was never taught how to rule. 

He throws up his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t say anything about sons. See, you’re too young and inexperienced. This is why I won’t let you in yet. You’re not ready to rule.”

“But I will?”

He gives you a wan smile. He’s tired. Guilt seeps through you. These days, all you do is fight. You miss the times when it felt like you had worked together. At the end of all of it, you love your father. You hate that it’s been like this. 

“All in time, my child. I love you, I really do. But you’re not ready.” 

Mutiny curls under your tongue. You’re not ready because he waited too long, hoping for a male heir until your mother died. By then, it was too late for you to catch up on years of lessons you should’ve had. Regardless of what he says, you know how he feels. You were never the one he wanted but-

He’s still your father. When he reaches out to stroke your cheek, a peace offering, you close your eyes against his hand and don’t give voice to your treasonous thoughts. It’s nothing to suffer the humiliation of your status for a while longer. You have all the time in the world to earn your place. 

Your father is right, in the end. You can be patient. 

Back in the privacy of your room, you unfurl Gojo’s note. Gojo’s mother had him trained in elegant cursive that he uses for formal documents and letters. In his messages to you, it degenerates into chicken scratch. It’s a lucky coincidence that it’s all but unreadable to anyone else, making it a code only you can decipher. 

The gardens at midnight. - S. 

Only a place and a time. Is he trying to tempt fate? 

You indulge in the idea of not going, especially since things are already tense with your father. All the way up until the hour you need to leave, you let yourself believe it’s not happening. It’s too risky. People are already suspicious of you as it is. The minute passes, and if you go now, you’ll be late, so you won’t. 

You grab your shawl with a huff of annoyance. You’re going. You were always going to go, from the very moment you got the note. 

You aren’t used to sneaking through hallways you usually glide through. There are several close calls as you make your way closer and closer to the gardens. Multiple times, you’re forced to make a run for the nearest door or drape to hide behind. 

You’re barely two feet away when you’re finally caught. A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence. 

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.” 

You bite him. 

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why would you do that? You scared me!” 

“You’re not careful enough, princess. Did you even notice the maid coming up the left hallway?”

Admittedly, you hadn’t. It’s lucky that he was there to save you. 

Gojo has always been there to protect you. The tension bleeds from your body. You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it. 

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?” 

“If you don’t be quiet, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.” 

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. His very presence is the promise of security. It makes it too easy to relax when he’s with you. 

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he remains silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. “Satoru?” 

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You raise it to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised to release the scent into the air. 

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.” 

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease. 

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s too.”

You freeze. 

“If not marriage, then knighthood. Let me be yours, in whatever way I can have you.” 

“You have me,” you tell him. “You always have.”

You don’t know how to answer such devotion. Besides the obvious political ramifications of being wedded to Gojo when your marriage is meant to be a bargaining chip used for the sake of your kingdom, you don’t want it. Not like this. 

Gojo has been your dedicated shield for so long, the two of you have forgotten a life where he wouldn’t give up everything to protect you. He’d do anything for you - even that which he should hold sacred for himself. His very body is littered with scars that he’s received on your behalf. How much more can you take from him? 

Does Gojo really want to marry you or does he want to protect you? Will he play the part of the devoted servant for the rest of his life? 

“You don’t have to…” You realize you don’t know how to say it. Or that you don’t want to. Selfishly, a part of you can’t bear to release him from the oath he gave you when you were children, though he couldn’t have known. Neither of you could have understood what it meant for him to kneel at your feet and swear his life to you. It had all been in good fun, the way children understand things. “I don’t want you to- Oh, Satoru. You don’t owe me anything. You’ve done enough for me.” 

For a second, your imagination plays tricks on you. The cobalt of his eyes kindles into a terrifying flame, like the lightning in the town he hails from. It’s as if the draconic blood his ancestors claimed still lives within him. 

He continues as if he hadn’t heard you. “I’m going to ask your father tomorrow. I want to be your dedicated knight; I won’t wait any longer. I’ve waited enough.” 

His pushiness feeds your annoyance. You cling to it, preferring it to the dreadful hopelessness inside of you. The right thing is not always the easy thing. Gojo deserves his freedom after wasting his youth on keeping you safe, yet letting him go feels as difficult as willingly driving a nail through your hand. You want to cling to him forever, reassured by his strength. 

“Don’t,” you say, trying to sound firm. 

“At the ceremony,” he says determinedly. “When he gives me captainship in the army. He’ll have to say yes if I ask him then.” 

“Satoru, please-” Your voice wobbles embarrassingly, and you have to pause. Silently, you beg your tears not to fall. The way he disarms you is humiliating. You turn away, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you has taught him a lot. He bandaged the scrapes that you refused to cry over and avenged your honor after you pretended your pride hadn't been hurt. He can see right through you. “Please don’t.” 

You see the frustration on his face. He’s not a man used to holding himself back, and yet he does. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.” 

It’s just another number to add to the tally of favors you owe him. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-” 

“I know. Though I do think the king will ask me anyway, so this is all pointless.” He looks away. “I just wanted you to- Nevermind.” 

“Really?” Doubt colors your voice. 

“I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?” 

“He doesn’t like you,” you point out. “No, he does, but it’s a very begrudging like. I don’t get it.” 

It makes you smile, thinking about the way your father can’t stand Gojo but won’t allow anyone else to speak poorly of him. He’s still a Gojo after all, no matter how much trouble he causes your father, and your father loves Gojos. The royal house has always held their house dear. They had been close for decades. Always, they were something to the other, no matter what form that something took. 

“There you are,” Gojo murmurs. His fingers trace the arc of your mouth. “So pretty.” 

You glare at him through tears. “And whose fault is it that I cried?” 

“Your father’s?” 

You scoff. “You see? This is why he doesn’t like you.” 

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him for it if I have to.” 

“Don’t do that,” you gasp. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor.” 

You look at the crushed violet in your hand. 

Who else but Gojo? 

He breaks you down so easily. You press the flower back into his palm. “I know you’ll do what’s right.” 

His eyes soften. He leans closer. 

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?” 

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer. 

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever. 

You nod, fearing your voice will give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. Does it look like a real kiss from afar? Did he mean it to? 

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.” 

“A new plaything?” Asks Yaga. “I’m not so scary, am I?” 

Gojo notices you tremble harder as the voice registers. Lord Commander Yaga is close to the King. As the captain of the kingsguard, he could ruin everything.

Gojo lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face. He pulls you towards him, arranging your legs around his waist. A soothing hand traces a warm path up and down your back. It calms you as much as it shames you. You’ve never been this close to any man, not even him, and now you’re cuddling only for the sake of protecting your secrets. 

“The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard,” he says casually, as if the two of you aren’t trapped in an extremely compromising position. As if your father wouldn’t demand his head on a pike if Yaga realized who it was. 

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?” 

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully. 

That night, you breathe a sigh of relief. Yaga gave no sign he recognized you. He acted as if he normally would upon encountering any soldier of his on a late night escapade, profoundly disinterested and deeply desirous to get away. Only in the morning do you begin to doubt your deception. 

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Quarter Final One

Propaganda...

Edward Ferrars (1995) :

Edward gets a bad rap because he's quiet and the whole lucy steele situation but he doesn't get enough credit for how honourable he is! It's easy to have honour when it costs you nothing he knows he'll be miserable with lucy but he knows it's the right thing and to do so he sticks to his guns and does it anyway despite the opposition from his family and to me that is hot! Also yes he makes mistakes but his family are vile - he grew up with Fanny and Robert and is still a good man! Also he looks like hugh grant and plays fun games with Margaret and he understands Elinor in a way no one else does - Hot!Hot!Hot!

Mr Darcy (1995) :

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

GIF by sunsetboulevards

Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

GIF by didanagy

Fencing? Hot!

GIF by greengableslover

The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

GIF by greengableslover

This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

GIF by didana

Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

Link

My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

[angstigone]

WARNINGS: (in honor's of aki's death day), grief, mourning, spoilers, a bit not canon compliant, also I snaked a reference to "northanger abbey" (my favorite jane austen book) and "wuthering heights" because I am reading about the bronte sisters and I am obsessed with them.

it's the typical morbid talks among girls that hit you at one sleepover night while fifteen.

"do you think that love can last even after one's death?".

your goggly-eyed friend had answered you that it was what happened in "wuthering heights", although you had promptly told her that the novel wasn't in any way a romantic one, if anything it was a tale of obsession and morbidosity.

still, many years after - and after having found your own henry tilney - you discovered that love did last after one's death; you had been living without aki hayakawa for a week, when you were notified with the amount of money he had left behind for you by a lawyer, explaining that he split it in three parts: one for you, one for himeno's family and one for denji.

your part alone was enough to have you gawking at the parcel and as if that hadn't been enough, the lawyer notified you that there was also an apartment in the deal, although with the clause that you'd have to share it with denji and power, if they wanted.

you don't mind, as you had grown to care for the two as younger - and troublesome - siblings.

all in all, you were quite comfortable, not enough to quit your current job, but enough to splurge on occasion. the new apartment was more comfortable and redefined to be helpful with ten and twenty years down the road.

said apartment, the lawyer further explained, should have become your house as aki had bought it to rennovate it, in hopes of maybe living there together upon the defeating of the gun devil.

to deal with the grief, you were swiftly contracted by a private professional, and albeit the person wasn't pushy, they explained that they had been contacted by aki ahead of time, and that in the last few months of his life he had been seeing them; the thought horrified you as you could see aki foreseeing his own death, although that wasn't such a terrible idea with his two years down the line.

flowers started to show up at your anniversaries then, alongside your birthdays and you knew that aki, before dying, had sent your friends' letters, begging them to stay by your side when the need rose.

all in all, aki hayakawa wasn't in your life anymore and you found yourself thinking that neither should be the love that you had for him. not with ten years down the line, not with your marriage to a man that you loved as well, not with the child that you name taiyo as aki would have loved.

it's morbid you found yourself thinking often that aki hayakawa still loves you, although you hadn't been able to hug, kiss or talk to him in a long time and yet that's the sole explanation to the feelings in the pit of your stomach.

[shini--chan]

Personal pet peeve of mine: Reading a yandere story with a historical setting with the yandere reducing the target of their obsession to just sitting around all day when they are not being subjected to "affections" and it being written that way for "historical accuracy".

I mean, yeah, there were gender roles in the past, but those gender roles didn't feature women being completely reduced to fleshlights with no other purpose. That was a job and it was called prostitute or concubine, and many women didn't do it willingly. Even high society women had a lot of tasks.

Being into historical re-enactment really showed me that it didn't matter if you were a man or a woman, or even just a child; you really didn't have much time to be idle. Asides, idlness was/is frowned upon in many religions and cultures.

C'mon, even the thing with societal norms is that a great part of society didn't adhere to them 'cause it just wasn't feasible. The attitude went along the lines of: "Nice morals you got there. We're just gonna throw a few out 'cause else we're not gonna survive. Mary, go get ye scythe now, the wheat's not gonna reap itself." And high society geneally didn't really practise what it preached because it was commonly too interested in debauchery.

People didn't get married for shits and giggles either. The single lifestyle only really worked when you either inheired a lot/had relatives paying for you or that you were living under your employers roof and all your worldy possessions fitted in one bag. Or you just lived with your family until you kicked the bucket. I mean, the armour and weapons a knight had were often provided by their liege lord and a priest's housing belonged to the Church.

Also, the trope of arranged marriages is a bit overused at this point. How about more stories about both parties hating each other's guts, or the woman loving the idea of marrying her intended but the man wanting to run for the hills? The woman baby-trapping the man perhaps? Because all of that existed to!

Don't get me started on fashion. Corset =/= patriarchy. You don't see the women in Jane Austen or Mary Shelley novels complaining about corsets and burning them, so let it rest. Really, that trope of corsets being a torture device comes from men making fun of woman's fashion and actresses with illfitting periode costumes. Corsets were more comfortable than stays and only really went out of fashion due to women needing more flexability due to bicycles. Ya really think ladies removed ribs, in a period where there weren't antibiotics and doctors went from cutting up corpses to treating patients without washing their hands inbetween? Common sense, where are you?

Asides, the clothing having to be chaste and covering certain parts applied to everybody. Breeches went out of fashion because people thought women would become arroused by men's exposed calves. Such standards didn't only apply to the Victorians, mind you.

I'll stop here, else this will be ten pages long. You also get the gist of it. Over and out.

[nortism]

What the Ghosts have been watching on TV

Everyone

Channel 4 Home renovation shows: They're free with ads and there's an infinite amount of them so Alison puts them on for the whole gang when she and Mike have work to do in same way people put on YouTube videos for their dogs. This has backfired slightly as all the ghosts now have very strong and conflicting opinions on how Button House should be renovated.

The Great British Bake-off: A whole family event, they all get very invested. Kitty thinks Alison Hammond is the funniest person in the world. The Captain feels normal about Noel Fielding. As well as a watching it live, I'm sure they've also watched the whole back catalogue together.

Mama Mia: This where the Captain learnt his ABBA songs from. Pat and Julian enjoy the nostalgic music and I think the others are just bewitched by the story and music

Robin

Anything David Attenborough: For obvious reasons. I think he'd get a kick out of trying to do his voice. The others sometimes join in.

Cunk on Earth/ Britain: I think they've got a similar attitude towards history and I think he'd find serious historians trying to answer silly questions incredibly funny

Horrible Histories: He watches this with Kitty, they both find poop jokes funny.

Humphrey

Antiques Roadshow: I'm not sure why. I honestly think he's just glad to watch anything.

Mary

Gardener's World: I think she misses being able to look after plants and I think she'd be endlessly fascinated by how hosepipes work.

Mio Mao: She loves them fucking plasticine cats. She will not stop singing the theme song

Honestly think she'll watch anything with anyone and would get invested, she seems like the ideal person to watch telly with.

Kitty

Ru Paul's Drag Race: I think they all watch this every so often but Kitty is invested. There's bright colours, fun outfits and drama, it's definitely Alison's go to when she needs Kitty distracted.

90s and 2000s romcoms: I believe that every couple of weeks Alison and Kitty have a "girl's night" where they watch all the romcoms that Alison used to watch with her mum, mostly because I love watching romcoms with my mum and Kitty deserves that. Kitty is particularly fond of Twilight.

Thomas:

Any Jane Austen adaptations: He watches them with Fanny as they were both big fans when they were alive (its the only thing they agree on). Kitty also joins sometimes. His favourite is the 1995 Pride and Prejudice tv show.

Fanny:

Grey's Anatomy: I haven't seen it but my mum's a big fan and there's millions of seasons, I think she'd pretend she's not that into it but she definitely is.

Call the Midwife: Same as above.

The Captain:

M*A*S*H: I've seen about half an episode of this but it seems to be about fit young men in a war so it sounds like his thing. Probably Pat's recommendation.

Our Flag Means Death: I think Alison has been trying to sneakily show Cap gay media under the pretence of saying "it's just a fun show about pirates". I think the whole gang watched it together. The Captain definitely didn't cry at the end of season 1 why would think that?

Pat

Taskmaster: I think this is one they all watch together but it's definitely one of Pat's favourites. He probably attempted to set up his own version of the show with the ghost which ended horribly.

Doctor Who: I think he watched the original run when he was alive and was absolutely ecstatic to find out they made more. Julian makes fun of him for it.

Julian

Have I Got News For You: Has been airing since 1990 so he definitely watched it while he was alive. I think he likes to keep up with current politics but not in a very serious way so this is his middle ground.

Succession: I haven't seen this show but it seems to be about horrible men in suits being horrible to each other which seems right up his alley.

The Thick of It: Speaking of horrible men in suits being horrible. I think he watches this with Robin who has absolutely no idea what's going on but just laughs when Julian does and they have the best time. Julian is constantly pausing to add his own anecdotes

What We Do In The Shadows: Alison put this on as a 'let's show the Captain it's ok to be gay' show and the Captain was immediately horrified so Julian adopted it. He identifies with Lazlo.

[calliesmemes]

PERIOD DRAMA QUOTES

ASSORTED ASKBOX PROMPTS featuring the dialogue of films and literature in the PERIOD DRAMA genre, including the works of Jane Austen, Little Women (2019), The Great (2020), Anne With An E (2017), Enola Holmes, and more!

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

❛ A young woman should be free to follow her heart. ❜

❛ Either we escape tonight or we say goodbye forever. ❜

❛ Your life is still in danger. ❜

❛ You bewitched me from the very first moment we met. ❜

❛ I too have known heartache and betrayal. ❜

❛ My dear girl, don’t you know that I’m in love with you? ❜

❛ You don’t know what it is to be without power. ❜

❛ Actually, for once, I think that there is some small value in what you say. ❜

❛ If I changed at all, it was because of you. ❜

❛ Sometimes, I think you couldn’t possibly be real. ❜

❛ I just can’t live without you. ❜

❛ Just because my dreams are different than yours does not mean that they’re unimportant. ❜

❛ I cannot stop thinking of you. ❜

❛ I am yours; I have always been yours. ❜

❛ A man with charm is an entertaining thing. ❜

❛ It’s alright to have anger, but you can’t let that be the ruling factor over your life. ❜

❛ You deserve everything your heart desires. ❜

❛ Night and day, I dream of you. ❜

❛ Dancing is a trust; it is a union. ❜

❛ Did you admire me for my impertinence? ❜

❛ It is you I cannot sacrifice. ❜

❛ I love crying over a good book, don’t you? ❜

❛ I love you. Most ardently. ❜

❛ There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart. ❜

❛ When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I don’t have an excellent library. ❜

❛ Caring deeply will always be the right thing. ❜

❛ I don’t need friends. I have my own company. ❜

❛ Evil to some is always good to others. ❜

❛ Have a little compassion on my nerves! You tear them to pieces! ❜

❛ No man on earth cares for me. ❜

❛ I forgive what you have done to me. ❜

❛ I do not find it easy to talk to people I don’t know. ❜

❛ Men of sense do not want silly wives. ❜

❛ I have crossed oceans of time to find you. ❜

❛ How I love being a woman. ❜

❛ You are a wish come true I never knew I was making. ❜

❛ Sometimes, you just have to let people love you. ❜

❛ If you want to be heard, you have to make some noise. ❜

❛ I’m so sick of people saying that love is just all that a woman is meant for. ❜

❛ You’re being emotional. It’s understandable, but unnecessary. ❜

❛ I want things to go back to the way they used to be! ❜

❛ Wait, they didn’t teach you that in finishing school? ❜

❛ Whatever society may claim, they can’t control you. ❜

❛ You’re not rid of me yet. ❜

❛ You have no interest in changing a world that suits you so well. ❜

❛ I’ve always known that I would marry you. Why should I feel ashamed of that? ❜

❛ I don’t want to leave you. ❜

❛ No one should be alone all the time. ❜

❛ Marriage is both a joy and a place where you will be dealt unbearable griefs. ❜

❛ I can’t risk losing anyone else I love. ❜

❛ You don’t believe in me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to get you to … and you just don’t! ❜

❛ You are a befuddling, strange creature. Everything you are saying is ridiculous. ❜

❛ Have you been hiding from me? ❜

❛ If anything were to happen to you, I would never be able to live with myself. ❜

❛ It’s pretty obvious now that for us to stay sane, we have to stay together. ❜

❛ The world is hard on ambitious girls. ❜

❛ Do you truly have feelings for me? ❜

❛ I don’t think there’s any place for me in this world. ❜

❛ How do I look? Do I look alright? ❜

❛ I want a home. And a family. ❜

❛ An I talking too much? People are always telling me that I do, and it seems to cause no end of aggravation. ❜

❛ Oh, isn’t it a beautiful morning? ❜

❛ It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of they day. ❜

❛ You don’t annoy me; you make me nervous. ❜

❛ You are an unexpectedly dark character. ❜

❛ I have been unpardonably vain and insufferably arrogant. ❜

❛ You have to watch your tongue. ❜

❛ I’m so sorry; I don’t understand what you are saying. ❜

❛ I don’t understand why you’re being so kind to me. ❜

❛ Don’t be defeatist, dear. It’s very middle class. ❜

❛ What is a weekend? ❜

❛ We should see more of each other. ❜

❛ I look like a prized calf trussed up for auction. ❜

❛ Your reputation precedes you. ❜

❛ Ever since I was a child, I felt like greatness was in store for me. ❜

❛ You don’t look as though you’re struggling. You look … radiant. ❜

❛ I will love you until time has lost all meaning. ❜

❛ There are many versions of you, and you know that I’m the only one who sees them all. ❜

❛ You aim to rile me. I like it. ❜

❛ Will you join me for dinner? ❜