#you was just planning to have a short scene

[dcxdpdabbles]

I know you're done writing it -I KNOW- it doesn't need to be a scene or anything, but could you please just let us know if Danny ever said goodbye to Tim in adopted son?? Did he ever get closure like Dick did? I haven't stopped thinking of him 😭😭

Danny visited Tim in his dream the night before Tim released the information about Danny's death. He got closure but wasn't as understanding as Dick.

He doesn't forgive Officer Black, but understands where the anger comes from. He still has bursts of rage whenever he is reminded of how Danny was taken from him. He figures forcing the man to live with the guilt of killing his sister's rescuer and never letting him forget. He sends a reminder on Danny's death anniversary to Black's door with the words I have not forgotten what you have done. He forgives you but I never will.

Tim felt that Gotham took away the light the Infinite Realms had bestowed on them. So, he will focus on running the darkness in Gotham for the rest of his life to ensure it can no longer swallow up the lights.

Danny is very proud of him for ensuring everyone in the Justice System is treated fairly, and in a few short years, Tim will weed out all the corruption. It's how Steph meets him. She helped his Ghosts ensure her Dad faced the right amount of justice. Her drive and motivation impressed him, bringing her to a high level of clearance once she finished basic training with the newest street kids recruits.

She becomes his second hand after proving her abilities and belief in Tim's cause.

Tim also, after years of the Danny Crowne case, got all those involved in the disappeared children out of jail and jobs at Drake Co. They are just as powerful as Wayne Enterprise because they merged with Crowne since Danny left everything in his name to him and Tim bought the rest out.

Tim continues to train with mercenaries by paying them. He will later grab the attention of Ra, but the immortal will assume that Tim's lack of ambition outside of Gotham doesn't make him a person of interest. He is unaware of how weary Bruce is of Tim. No one outside of Gotham has Tim on their radar.

Tim has the means, the plans, and the abilities to take out the Justice League. He merely doesn't because they have never gotten in his way and it would have made Danny said if he did it without a good reason.

Tim is morally grey because Danny was morally grey. Yes, he rescued children and gave them safe homes and out of the streets, but Danny didn't do it legally. He possessed people in the Child Services to smuggle children out. He made deals with a few foster parents to look the other way and hid all of this from the law.

We know he wasn't hurting them, but others didn't, including Tim, for a long time. He just knew his brother made kids vanish. That is why he snoops and tries to figure out what Danny is doing.

I may write a time skip from Tim's pov cause this got a little too long.

[kierongillen]

HEY GILLEN!! i have a few questions for you, if you don't mind answering them! what was in your mind for S.W.O.R.D's ending? abigail brand is one of my favorite characters and i just need to know what you had planned for her and beast -- and unit too, honestly.

also -- which pheonix host is your personal favorite? if you have an opinion on that!

It's hard, as the things which got us there never happened and so the emotional through line isn't there.

Excuse the roughness of this. There's a lot more, and I'm always aware whenever I describe a half idea, what's missing is the craft in executing it.

The final scene would have been Brand with UNIT back in his cell, while Beast has packed his bags and is leaving SWORD forever.

The context: UNIT had escaped, as another UNIT turned up, and been the big bad. The story seemed to reveal that our UNIT was actually a penitent war weapon who wanted to be punished, while this other UNIT was the real unrepentant monster. UNIT and SWORD have to stop him, and they do.

In the moment when the other UNIT is defeated and is killed, there's a mind to mind conversation between the UNITs - where basically the other UNIT reveals this is all about buying the original UNIT cover. They'll trust you now. This is all for the greater good. These two UNITs were old lovers (for those who have read the battleworld SHIELD mini may see what I was riffing on there - the idea of SHIELD was, in part, me doing fanfic versions of stories you never read. Me writing a happier ending for the two UNITs)

In short, for the greater good, UNIT forsakes his great love. Anyway - Brand and Beast had split up, because Brand was always putting the work first, and generally pushing Beast away. There was a whole lot along the way (the basic plot of the book was it was beauty and the beast - but Beast is the beauty and Brand is the beast.) She was closing him off, at every chance we got, as she had to protect the earth.

When this meeting is going on, Beast is leaving SWORD, out the station, back to Earth.

Brand and UNIT are doing a normal meeting, and everything is by the book.

At one point, UNIT just breaks off from the serious briefing and tells her: It's not worth it.

This throws her. She doesn't understand what he means. Your whole thing is about the greater good, UNIT. What do you mean?

To sacrifice love for duty? If you were an immortal being like I am... perhaps it's worth it. The dividends are larger. But your life is very short, Agent Brand. It's not worth it.

So it's a big moment for UNIT in terms of that awful bittersweetness of him clearly thinking he's made a mistake... and also for Brand. This robot, which she still distrusts to some level, who she views as a cold and calculating thing... is telling her this.

Unit is basically her. She is turning herself into a robot. She doesn't want to be a robot. She doesn't know it, but senses the truth - even the robot doesn't really want to be the robot.

It gets through to her.

She runs through the Sword Station.

We have the full "stopping Beast boarding the plane" scene, and we end on the big kiss.

Aww.

I think of that Beast and Brand a lot. There was a fork in the timeline for them, and I didn't realise when writing SWORD we were already past it - the Beast who became a genocidal monster was already appearing in another thread of Marvel's tapestry. I think that timeline as the one where Brand influenced Beast more than Beast influenced Brand - or maybe better phrased as the SWORD timeline was one where the relationship made them better, rather than making them both worse.

(I sort of allude to this briefly in Immortal X-men issue 1.)

They were great stories - Brand and Beast were two of Krakoa's greatest villains - but I'm still a little sad for them. Brand and Beast were the first couple in the MU who were briefly "mine", so I can't pine a little for that timeline where they kissed.

[idrellegames]

I've recently rediscovered Wayfarer after first playing it a few years ago and I'm having a blast replaying it! The amount of variation that this game has and scenes that I didn't even know existed is insane??? Seriously, I'm having so much fun playing a different main character on this play through (everyone hates me). I am curious, though, is there any companion in particular that hasn't showed up yet that you're most excited to write about? I'm super excited to see what else you come up with!

aaaaa wonderful!! I'm always so happy to hear about replays since the game is definitely intended to be replayed a bunch. 💕

and oooo good question. So, there's a few contenders here:

Alexia, Calla and Ren. I'm grouping them together because we're so close to the point where they will finally be in the game. They've been around since 2019 (they're older characters than even Melchior and Aeran, Alexia's been my pfp in different variations for years at this point) and their introduction scenes have been planned since 2020. It's been a really long time coming and I am so excited to get some new energy into the game with them.

I think Ren has my favourite introduction scene, which makes me a little stressed because I worry about whether it will fall flat on it's face. 😂 Calla has my second favourite and I think people are going to find her a lot of fun. Alexia's is going to be surprising and not what you expect.

I am also very excited for Ves. They have a lot going on with their history with Ren and the Erebian League. I wrote a short story from their POV in 2023 that set up some of their conflict and they are just Very Neat to me. It's easy to get brainrot. 🤣

There's one other character who is currently being rotated on a spit in my head, but I don't want to say much about them other than they're an aeda and they have a connection to Rhodarth.

[blvenote]

the universe has granted me good karma thru this update \O/ and #shithitsthefan  AHHHJHHHHHHSJFJDJJFKFFJKFKFFKFKF:

• prefacing this reblog/review with the fact that i was actually awake when this dropped and i got the email notification that u tagged me akcnkdnf AND I LITERALLY READ THE ENTIRE CHAPTER IN THE EMAIL 😭💀 like i was sucked in 😭😭 so this is me, coming back day two, cracking my knuckles, lets do this

• even the summary for this chapter hurts my soul "nothing short of perfect" yes sure honey 😭 we'll see abt that

• DAISIES MEANING NEW BEGINNINGS U CAN DO IT JEONGHAN I KNOW U CAN (he, in fact, could not, and neither could yn)

• we r just going full on w the flowers in this beginning huh kdnfkdnfnf tapestry of flowers on mama's skirt okay... seokmin better be handing yn a bundle of purple hyacinths !! but to be a little more serious TT im honestly like kind of giddy w yns mama bc i just know she was getting nervous and concerned for her daughter, and im petty enough to be like SECOND MALE LEAD IS MAKING THE FIRST MOVE WHOOPDIE DO (okay i lied, i was not serious)

• "a carefully crafted arrangment" like the literal arrangment that yn and jeonghan agreed to AND the arrangments of flowers jeonghan brought i— also the little actions/details you've added in truly add to the vibe that this was rehearsed!! the subtle nods and glances, the understanding, the careful steadiness of yns demeanor — truly not how a lady feels when she's abt to be engaged

• look, mama xu is just excited to start doing the wedding planning and festivities, me too !!

• UGH what a pretty passage (´Д⊂ヽ like even tho this is rehearsed/pre-planned, they're still both wielding similar heartbreaks, and out of everything, he's still trying to make the best of it and see her AS YK,, HIS FUTURE WIFE

• sorry had to just yell again: AUTUMN LEAVES U MEAN ITS FALL??? /THE/ FALL??? AND NEXT IS WINTER... and knowing exactly what i know... man.. i hate (love) seasons as symbols

• oh :'))) and another cig moment w the swing but btwn the sibs!!!

• wow a man who isn't oblivious? ig we win these xu minghao, but i think it's at least conaiderate that he's still asking her not only after the fact but even during the moment (we will revisit this idea later 🤡)

• thats real unfair if u dont think yn or jeonghan will never love each other 😭😭 like at some point, YN AND MINGHAO IM TALKING TO BOTH OF U, feelings will develop; whether its platonic love or romantic love, the seeds have been sown. like yn and jeonghan both have common ground and mutual respect, they dont outwardly hate each other for coveting another; they have far more in common than everyone else would like to admit

• OH... the last sequence of the scene i might cry a little 😭😭 minghao urging w that ferocity and he's slightly defensive that she can stay if she wanted and he would always take care of her, but he forgets he cannot take care of her forever; and just the quiet, solemn acceptance that settles btwn them... the siblings will finally be separated... someone save me (U HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAO'S QUIET "so u r to be married?" DOES TO ME 😭😭😭😭 like he's kind of losing his sister rn)

• SETTLING OVER U LIKE A THICK VEIL??? A WEDDING VEIL??? YET ANOTHER RESTRAINT???

• BUT HES A SCOUNDREL???? AYE AVAST YE LEE SEOKMIN U HAVE NO RIGHT, AS THE LADY SAYS

• jeonghan.... 😭😭😭 "as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life" someone resuscitate me 😭 if i only had this section, i might think he actually loved her goddamn it (a girl can dream.....)

• the pearl ring, i think, fits so perfectly w yns dress too, like pearls go so well w the aesthetic of the sea/ocean. and def called it that hannie had the ring made for lady choi to wear but 😭 yk,,, life happens, love is lost 😭

• LOOK, WE MATCH 😭😭😭😭😭 OH.....

• just connecting details but a turquoise dress like the sea, a pearl fit for a treasure at the bottom of the ocean, the anchor that keeps you from drifting,,, but your heart sinks nonetheless

• lady choi kinda sus like why is that smile slow and deliberate... home girl, back away from my second lead

• oh yn girlfriend 😭😭😭 U CAN JUST SKFNDKNFKF jeonghan wants to let go of the past and wants to remain steady in this present endeavor, but ur encouragement is far more give than u should be allowing in this situation skfndkfn like i get it, really, this is a whole different arrangement, BUT YN STAND UP

• I NEEDED YN TO SAY "i let him leave" RATHER THAN SHE JUST SAW HIM LEAVE LIKE I'D LOOOVE TO SEE SEOKS REACTION TO THAT

• frustration spilling over like the tide *furiously adds this to the list*

• the intensity of this next scene is crazy but i had to do a pause to say WHAT DO U MEAN THE GRAVE ERROR THAT YN HAS MADE??? LEE SEOKMIN SLOW TF DOWN

• omg the literal irony my head is in my hands 😭😭😭 THE UTTER IRONY THAT HE CALLS HER DEAR FRIEND WHEN SHE'S LITERALLY TALKING ABT HIM BEING THE MAN SHE'S IN LOVE WITH !!! i do have to say that i had a lot of satisfaction in his reaction when she admitted that she knew hannie was in love w a married woman LOL and i am such a sucker for super intense arguments/back n forths like this one like OOOOO i love the tension and the heat sm

• living for minghaos entrance, holding my breath

• OKOK BUT minghaos protective gaze like a CHAIN around yns neck, and seokmins stare as both apologetic AND RESTRAINING??? a woman's virtue is in restraint 😭😭😭😭😭

• my thoughts exactly WHAT????? HOW DARE HE HOW DARE THEY I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY, BUT FIRST, we need to revisit a prev comment abt how minghao was checking in w yn and allowing her a say in her own future: WHERE DID ALL THAT GO HUH????? like i understand that circumstances r different, but even i felt betrayed, and its like,, BOY aint nobody gonna know, THIS IS THE ARRANGEMENT; SECOND, the way seokmin says "fine, i'll marry her" not even speaking to her directly and w that ATTITUDE?? okay . we didn't want u anyway . like i felt that emotional clap of thunder like yn did i am BUZZING

• oh, so minghao thinks he's doing u a favor... eugh..... the pros and cons i suppose for a protective brother (i praised him for not being oblivious earlier, but im taking it all back!)

• i feel as empty and lost as yn rn ngl like maaaan i knew this was gonna happen but im still like,,, 😭😭 NOOOOOO 😭😭 yns back to crippling depression 💔

loved the chapter as always!! sorry there's a lot more reactions and less analysis/commentary this time around, it just got really intense and my brain is still processing that jeonghan engagement era didnt even last a CHAPTER (´Д⊂ヽ cant wait for chapter five, love u!!!

The Somerset Affair

Chapter 4: The Duke Who Loved Me

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.0k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, eventual smut, more to be added a/n: ok i know this is long overdue but ENJOYYYYY // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys this could not have happened without you // part 5 is in the works rn!

summary: your engagement to Lord Yoon Jeonghan will be nothing short of perfect. You will make sure of it.

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

The morning sun filters through the grand windows of the drawing room, casting warm patches of light onto the plush carpets and fine upholstery. The air is filled with the subtle scent of bergamot from your mother’s tea and the quiet rustle of her lace fan as she sits beside you, pleasantly engaged in conversation. Minghao, reclining with a book in one hand, seems content to observe, his eyes flicking up occasionally, assessing with that quiet, perceptive gaze of his.

A servant enters, announcing with a slight bow, “Lord Yoon, for Miss Xu.”

Jeonghan steps in, exuding a refined elegance, his appearance crisp and perfectly polished. In his hands, he carries two bouquets—an artfully arranged bouquet of roses for your mother and a softer bundle of daisies for you.

“Oh, Lord Yoon!” Your mother’s face lights up with delighted surprise as he presents her with the roses. “Such beautiful flowers! You spoil us, my lord,” she coos, taking them with clear admiration.

Jeonghan turns to you next, extending the daisies with a warm, almost conspiratorial smile. “These, Miss Xu, are for you.�� His gaze lingers just a moment longer than it should, his eyes holding a silent promise.

You accept them, feeling your pulse quicken despite your best efforts at composure. “Thank you, my lord. They’re lovely,” you reply, your voice steady yet soft.

The light streams through the drawing room, catching on delicate patterns in the wallpaper, illuminating the intricate tapestry of flowers on your mother’s dress. She sits forward, her face lit with excitement, as if this visit from Jeonghan is a personal victory.

Jeonghan’s bouquet fills the room with a faint scent of wildflowers, light and pleasant, yet somehow starkly out of place in this space where every gesture feels rehearsed. The daisies he offered you lie lightly in your lap, their cheerful brightness a contrast to the steady, almost unfeeling exchange that has just unfolded. His eyes meet yours for a brief, knowing second, and there’s a flicker of mutual understanding beneath the surface, an unspoken acknowledgment of what this marriage truly is—a carefully crafted arrangement, one that neither of you expects to fill with romance.

As Jeonghan addresses Minghao, his voice is calm, almost clinical. “Lord Xu Minghao, I come to you today with the hope of asking for your sister’s hand in marriage.” There is no impassioned plea, no pretense of romantic affection—only a polite tone as he lays out his intentions, as though presenting a proposition in a business deal.

Minghao’s gaze sharpens as he turns to you, his eyebrows raised slightly in silent question. He knows you better than anyone; he knows why Jeonghan’s proposal isn’t shocking, why you don’t hesitate. The room is quiet, and your mother leans forward in her seat, her excitement radiating out in delicate bursts like the sweet scent of her tea, oblivious to the subtleties of the exchange.

Clearing his throat, Minghao shifts in his seat and addresses Jeonghan with his usual calm. “Lord Yoon, I know better than to answer for my sister.”

All eyes turn to you, and the room feels suspended, like the world itself has paused to witness your response. “Yes, my lord,” you say, the words escaping your lips in a careful, measured tone. “I shall.” And there it is—final, as much a confirmation of acceptance as a concession.

Jeonghan’s faint smile returns, polite but distant, as if his mind is already on other matters. He is not the lover you dreamed of, and you are not the woman he once allowed himself to yearn for; you both know this, and perhaps that is why it works so well. The arrangement is neat, efficient, each of you choosing the practical over the sentimental, the future over desire.

Your mother, however, cannot contain her delight. “Oh, this is wonderful! A fine match indeed!” she exclaims, her fan fluttering excitedly in her hand. She glows with pride as if this alliance were a personal triumph, her dreams for you fulfilled without understanding the true weight of the moment.

The silence that follows feels heavy, like an agreement quietly sealed, and as you look down at the daisies in your lap, the cheerful white petals suddenly seem out of place in the drawing room, a reminder of a life that might have been. Jeonghan, still standing beside you, inclines his head just slightly. His glance is fleeting, but there’s something in it—a flicker of empathy, perhaps. Just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by the calm, composed mask that both of you have agreed to wear.

Jeonghan turns to you as he prepares to leave, his gaze softening ever so slightly. For a moment, the polite distance in his eyes fades, replaced by a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. He takes your hand, his fingers cool but steady as he lifts it gently to his lips.

“Until next we meet,” he says, his voice low but warm, carrying a sincerity that feels entirely unfeigned. He brushes his lips softly against your knuckles, the gesture tender enough to feel both comforting and bittersweet. As he looks up, a gentle smile graces his face, one that holds neither expectation nor demand—only a quiet understanding, a rare kindness beneath the formalities.

The touch lingers even after he releases your hand, and in the hush that follows, you’re struck by the thought that perhaps, despite the arrangement you’ve agreed upon, Jeonghan will bring a certain gentleness to the role he has taken on.

As he steps back and bids your family farewell, your mother practically glows, her happiness radiating through the room like sunlight through lace. Jeonghan’s parting glance catches yours, a hint of reassurance in his gaze, as if to say he’ll uphold his part of the pact with grace, that this arrangement—though devoid of romance—will be one rooted in quiet respect.

Minghao finds you beneath the old swing, nestled among the twisting garden vines and the soft crunch of autumn leaves. You hardly hear him approach, lost in thought as you watch smoke curl from the cigarette you’d pilfered from his room yet again. Each puff you take burns slightly in your lungs, though the familiar sting feels oddly soothing tonight.

“Nicked another one, have you?” he teases as he sits down at your feet, stretching his legs out lazily on the grass. Without waiting, he holds his hand out, gesturing for you to pass the cigarette. “If this becomes a habit, I’ll have to report you to Mother. Thievery wasn’t exactly on your lesson plan.”

“Oh, hush,” you mutter, flicking a stray leaf toward him in mock annoyance. But the tension in your body gives you away, your shoulders stiff beneath his watchful gaze.

He watches you closely, his gaze quiet and discerning as he brings the cigarette to his lips. The glow of the ember casts a brief, warm light across his face, highlighting the concern in his expression. Minghao inhales, then exhales a plume of smoke that drifts around the both of you in wisps, curling lazily into the air. The scent mingles with the earthy richness of the garden, settling between you like an unspoken question.

For a moment, there’s only the soft creak of the swing and the distant hum of cicadas, the two of you wrapped in a fragile peace.

“You know,” he says at last, breaking the silence. “It isn’t too late to change your mind. Mother may be overjoyed, but I know you. You would only say yes if…” He trails off, letting the implication hang in the still air.

You scoff, but it’s softer than usual. “What are you implying?”

Minghao studies you, his gaze level and piercing, then asks plainly, “Do you love him?”

You pause, watching the glow of the cigarette dim between your fingers. “I… respect him. And he respects me.”

Minghao’s eyes narrow slightly, as if he’s turning your answer over, searching for the truth beneath it. “But you don’t love him,” he says softly. “Not like you love Seokmin.”

Your breath catches, and you quickly look away, the sting of his words more potent than the cigarette’s burn. The thought of Seokmin’s name hanging in the air between you is almost unbearable. “How long have you known?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“I am your brother, Y/N. I’m not blind, no matter how oblivious some of the company I keep may be.”

The corner of his mouth quirks in a wry smile, but his gaze is tender. You find a slight comfort in it, and for a moment, you feel the urge to tell him everything—to let yourself be held by the simple warmth of his understanding. But you hold back, your jaw set in a familiar, resolute line.

“Does he know?” you ask finally.

“No,” Minghao replies after a moment. “At least, I don’t think so.”

The words settle heavily between you, and the silence stretches, thick and suffocating, broken only by the faint crackle of the cigarette as Minghao takes another slow drag. He hands it back to you, his fingers brushing yours in the exchange, grounding you. The faint tremor in your hands feels all too telling, but you steady yourself, forcing composure.

“You truly want to marry Yoon Jeonghan?” he asks quietly, almost like a plea. “Even though you’ll never love him?”

“Love isn’t in the cards for me,” you reply, each word measured and calm. “Besides, brother, what else would you have me do?”

His brow knits together, and he leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees. “Stay,” he says, voice thick with urgency. “Stay here, with me and Mother.”

You let out a breath, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “Please, brother. You know that would send our dear mama to an early grave. A loveless marriage is better than none at all.” You draw in a deep breath, the smoky tendrils filling your lungs. “What happens when you can no longer provide for me?”

He bristles, his voice fierce. “I’ll always provide for you.”

“I know. That’s not what I meant,” you say, your voice softening as you look at him. His expression shifts, and he nods, understanding passing between you in the quiet.

A heavy silence falls, interrupted only by the soft crackling of the cigarette as you pass it back and forth, each drag punctuating the night air with a faint, bitter tang. The smoke lingers around you, a hazy veil that cloaks the unsaid words, the hidden fears, the ache of dreams surrendered.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a mere whisper, carrying the weight of resignation. “So you are to be married.”

You nod, your fingers grazing the cigarette one last time before you extinguish it in the grass, grinding the last ember beneath your thumb. “So I am,” you say, a finality settling over the words as you both gaze into the dark, each lost in the flickering embers of what could have been.

The church’s thick stone walls seem to press in, trapping every sound, every movement, as though the weight of centuries hangs in the air. The fragrance of lilies and incense mingles into something heady, almost suffocating, filling your lungs with every breath. From the stained-glass windows, slanted bands of sunlight cut through the space, spilling ruby, sapphire, and amber hues across the dark wood of the pews. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, forcing yourself to breathe slowly, to project nothing but composure.

Then the cardinal’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I publish the banns of marriage between Lord Yoon Jeonghan, and Miss Xu Y/N. They are to be married in three weeks. If any of you know cause or just impediment why these persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. ”

The words land heavy, echoing through the cathedral and settling over you like a thick veil. For a moment, it feels as though the world has been carved in two, time splintering around that proclamation.

Across the aisle, there’s a sharp intake of breath. Seokmin’s entire frame goes rigid, his back snapping straight as if he’s been struck. He turns to look at you, his movement quick and desperate, and his eyes find yours, wide with shock and something far deeper, something close to despair. His mouth opens, but no words come. You feel his gaze drilling into you, intense and searching, as though he’s willing you to look away—to give him anything but the confirmation of what’s just been read aloud.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your throat tightens with the urge to cry out, to take it all back. But you force the tremor down, and at that moment, you feel Minghao’s hand slide over yours, his steady, grounding warmth the only thing keeping you from breaking. His grip is strong, his fingers curling over yours in silent reassurance, and you clutch onto him as though he’s a lifeline.

Across the aisle, Jeonghan meets your gaze, a calm confidence emanating from his gaze, like the unwavering stone of the church itself. He offers a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent affirmation of the pact between you—a pact that is anything but romantic, but unbreakable all the same.

When the service ends, and the congregation rises, their whispers a growing swell of murmurs, Jeonghan strides toward you with that same unruffled grace, his every step measured and unhurried. But before he can reach you, Seokmin is there, his hand outstretched, his face a mask of disbelief.

Jeonghan glances at him, his eyes flicking to you, reading your expression before he steps back, giving the two of you a semblance of privacy.

“Are you marrying Yoon Jeonghan?” Seokmin’s voice is low, tight, his face a mix of anger and pleading. The words come out hoarse, as if he’s forcing them past a stone lodged in his throat.

“Yes, Seokmin,” you reply quietly, your voice controlled but aching. “The cardinal just read the banns.”

He stares, and you see him search your face, looking for any trace of the girl he once knew, perhaps hoping for a flash of hesitation that would betray you. Instead, you lift your chin, steeling yourself against the helplessness etched into his features.

“But he’s a scoundrel!” he insists, his voice thick with desperation.

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, though it feels hollow. “You have much audacity to speak of scoundrels before me, my lord.” You pause, letting the words settle. “Lord Yoon is kind to me, and he has always respected me. His attention has never been out of pity, nor at the behest of another.”

A flicker of pain crosses Seokmin’s face, and he drops his gaze, your words striking a chord that silences him. His fingers flex, grasping at air as though there’s something he wishes he could say, something he wishes he could fix, but the moment has already passed. You turn, letting the silence grow between you, feeling the weight of his unspoken words fall away.

As you make your way to the back of the church, Jeonghan stands waiting, his posture relaxed, as though he has been waiting patiently his entire life. He offers you his arm, the small smile on his lips almost kind, and you accept, feeling his warmth against you as you step together into the sunlight outside.

The murmurs rise from the crowd that’s gathered, their gazes a mixture of awe and curiosity as they watch the newest couple of the season descend the church steps. The sun casts a golden glow over the stone path, illuminating the two of you as you walk together, each step echoing in the stillness. Just as you reach the final stair, Jeonghan glances over at you, his eyes softening as he reaches into his pocket.

Without a word, he holds out a handkerchief, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he passes it to you.

“You’re crying,” he says softly, his voice gentle, his eyes searching yours with something that might almost be tenderness.

The dampness at the corners of your eyes betrays you. You take the handkerchief, feeling the cool linen against your fingertips as you bring it to your face, dabbing away the tears that have slipped past your defenses. A small, appreciative nod is all you manage, and Jeonghan’s hand remains extended, waiting patiently for you to accept the support he offers in silence.

You take his arm once more, and together you walk toward the waiting carriages, leaving behind the whispers, the stares, and the man you love, your steps a steady beat against the uncertainties that lie ahead.

The air is electric with anticipation, and you can feel the weight of every gaze in the room before you even step into the lavish ballroom. The future Viscountess of Hastings, they will say, the supposedly hopeless spinster who somehow captured the heart of one of Mayfair’s most eligible bachelors. Perhaps that's why your mother is a whirlwind of excitement, her chatter endless as she flits around the room, adjusting the last few details of your appearance while your lady's maid fusses with your hair and gown.

Your dress tonight is a ravishing turquoise, its fabric flowing like water around you, hugging your figure before cascading into a graceful skirt that swirls with every step. The neckline is artfully crafted, a delicate off-the-shoulder design that highlights your collarbones and frames your face, drawing attention to the soft curve of your neck. The fabric shimmers in the candlelight, the color reflecting hues of the deep sea, rich and vibrant, evoking the image of sunlit waves. A hint of silver thread weaves through the gown, catching the light as you move, creating an illusion of movement, as though the ocean itself were swirling around you. Your mother’s excited chatter fills the air, but you find yourself lost in your own thoughts, momentarily detached from the flurry of activity.

You catch a glimpse of the ring Jeonghan slid onto your finger during the carriage ride home, its beauty undeniable as it glistens under the soft glow of the lamps in your room. The polished rose gold band curves gently, embracing a single, lustrous pearl at its center. The pearl shines with a soft luminescence, hints of ivory and blush swirling within, exuding a quiet elegance as if it held whispers of its own secrets. It’s exquisite and understated, a piece that commands attention without being ostentatious. Jeonghan had presented it to you with little flourish, his fingers pushing the ring onto your finger as you stared out the window, deep in thought.

“Jeonghan,” you gasped, the words slipping from your lips as the reality of its beauty settled in. “It’s beautiful.”

His lips quirked at that, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth before something deeper flickered in his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, fingers pulling at his too-tight cravat, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. “I had it made some years ago.”

“For—”

“Yes,” he cut you off gently, his tone firm yet soft. “For Lady Choi.”

The weight of those words hung between you, thick and heavy, silencing the room as he gazed out the window, his expression closing off. You chose not to pry, twisting the ring around your finger, feeling the coolness of the pearl against your skin as your thoughts drifted to the man you had left behind in the chapel.

“Oh, darling,” your mother’s voice pierces through the haze of your reverie, snapping you back to the present. “You look beautiful. A true viscountess.”

You hummed in agreement, your eyes drawn to your reflection in the mirror. Your ladies' maids had truly outdone themselves. The intricate braids of your hair were artfully woven together, sparkling gems and pearls interspersed throughout, echoing the beauty of your ring. The delicate tendrils framing your face were styled to perfection, soft curls cascading down your shoulders like a waterfall of silk. In the soft glow of the lamp light, your complexion looked radiant, enhanced by the glow of the pearls nestled in your hair. You twist the pearl again, adjusting it until it feels right, then straighten your back, donning the façade of a viscountess—a true leader of society. 

Jeonghan is a good man, you remind yourself, forcing a smile as you repeat the mantra. He shall be a good friend.

As the carriage rolls to a halt at the FitzWilliam estate, the sounds of the ball waft through the air, laughter and music melding into a sweet symphony that invites you into its depths. You step out, and Jeonghan is already waiting, his demeanor calm and collected as he extends an arm for you to grasp.

The main hall is alive with opulence, chandeliers casting golden light that dances off polished marble floors. The scent of rich perfumes and expensive colognes mingle in the air, thick with the promise of high society and whispered secrets. Impeccably dressed couples twirl across the dance floor, their laughter echoing like a soft refrain, while clusters of guests gather, engaged in hushed conversations punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

You take a deep breath, feeling a pang in your chest as you remember the last time you stood in this very room, the night Seokmin broke your heart. The echo of his laughter, the way he moved so effortlessly through the crowd—memories flood back, bittersweet and sharp, threatening to steal your composure.

Sensing your unease, Jeonghan nudges you gently, his presence a steadying force. “Look,” he murmurs, gesturing to his cravat, which matches the deep turquoise of your dress perfectly. “We match.”

That’s enough to elicit a light laugh from you, a sound that feels foreign and welcome at once. Jeonghan’s grin broadens, and the warmth of his gaze brings you a measure of comfort as you allow yourself to relax in his arms.

Your hopes for an uneventful night are dashed almost immediately when Seokmin catches your eye. The moment his gaze lands on you, something flickers across his face—an emotion you can’t quite place, his brows furrowing slightly before he glances down at your arm linked with Jeonghan's. His eyes trail from the vibrant turquoise of your dress, down to your arm in Jeonghan’s, and finally to the gleaming pearl ring on your finger. Then, without warning, he turns away, his shoulders tightening and a slight movement that lodges itself in your throat like a stone, heavy and uncomfortable.

Your mother, oblivious to the tension, all but shoves you and Jeonghan toward the dance floor as the next waltz begins, her voice bright with excitement as she declares, “The next bride and groom of the ton must have their moment to shine!” Jeonghan chuckles at her enthusiasm, a warm, carefree sound that dances in the air, as he gently tugs you into the throng of swirling gowns and polished shoes. The orchestra strikes up a lively quadrille, and you quickly lose yourself in the rhythm, the world narrowing down to the two of you, grinning up at Jeonghan every time you find yourselves partnered again.

In your breathless excitement, you barely notice the whispers of the ton, a familiar backdrop to your existence as they observe your every misstep with keen interest. But Seokmin’s gaze remains like a hot brand against your skin, intense and unyielding, making it hard to breathe. You feel the weight of his eyes like an anchor, and it draws your attention back to him against your will.

“Do not look at him,” Jeonghan murmurs, his voice low and steady as he twirls you beneath his arm, his grip firm yet gentle. His eyes search yours for a moment, grounding you, before he adds, “Look only at me, Y/N.”

You nod, your heart racing, and it's easy to follow his command, to lose yourself in the warmth of his smile and the way his eyes light up with every turn. Jeonghan moves gracefully, the two of you swirling together, his laughter mingling with the music. But just as quickly, his cool facade slips—he trips slightly on your flowing dress, and for a brief moment, his expression falters. His eyes dart toward the edge of the dance floor, tension radiating from his frame. When you follow his line of sight, your heart sinks.

The ever-enigmatic Lady Choi has graced the ball with her presence, and her gaze is locked on your fiancé, unwavering and knowing. When she catches Jeonghan staring, a slow, deliberate smile spreads across her lips, and she subtly nods her head toward the door. Jeonghan falters again, his brow creasing with worry as he shifts his weight, uncertain.

“You should go,” you urge gently, your voice barely above a whisper, and you lean in closer to him, the warmth of his body reassuring yet electric. He looks down at you, surprise etched across his features, his grip on your hand tightening involuntarily.

“No, I… I shouldn’t—I shan’t—” he stutters, attempting to regain his composure as he starts the next sequence of steps with an uncharacteristic bravado, but the confidence doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jeonghan,” you murmur, your grip on his hand tightening as you lean in closer, your heart aching for him. “Go.”

“In the middle of a dance? What will the ton say about the viscount who leaves his new fiancée? What will become of you?” His concern is genuine, but it only adds to the pressure building within you, and you can see his throat bob as he swallows hard.

“It is nothing I have not handled before, my lord,” you tease lightly, a playful smile curving your lips as you step back and curtsy with a playful flourish. Jeonghan bows in return, though you can see the conflict in his eyes, and in that moment, you watch him leave you alone on the dance floor, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken words.

Your mother gasps from the edge of the dance floor, her shock palpable, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks at the attention. Minghao quickly attempts to soothe her, sharing a knowing glance with you that promises support as you excuse yourself for a refreshment.

Seokmin finds you at the drink table, his expression taut and focused, as though he’s been waiting for you. “He left you,” he states, his voice low but firm, eyebrows drawing together in disapproval.

“Good evening to you as well, Lord Lee. Quite hot, isn’t it?” You reply, your tone light as you feign nonchalance, but your heart races beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

“Y/N, he left you. His fiancée,” he presses, the weight of his words heavy in the air, and he leans closer, the intensity of his focus making it hard to hold his gaze.

“Yes, Seokmin, I do have fully functioning sight. I saw him leave.” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you straighten, the defiance rising within you.

“And what was so important that he had to abandon you in your first night out as a couple?” His voice sharpens, laced with an urgency that makes your heart clench.

“I do not need you to defend my honor, my lord. Nor do I need to explain my fiancé to you.” Your eyes flash, and you can feel the heat of your anger boiling beneath the surface.

With a huff, he turns away, frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw, leaving you alone at the table. You sip your lemonade, trying to ignore the murmurs that swirl around you, the familiar buzz of speculation and gossip that seems to cling to your skin like a second layer. Just then, Minghao finds you, his expression serious yet concerned.

“Walk with me,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument, and you can see the protective glint in his eye.

As you begin to move through the crowd, he squeezes your hand reassuringly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he studies your face.

“Quite, brother,” you assure him, though your heart feels heavy.

“Seokmin is quite upset. I would have been as well, had I not known what is happening between you and Lord Yoon.” His gaze softens slightly, but it’s clear he’s trying to gauge your emotions.

“Thank you for your understanding,” you reply, your heart swelling with gratitude.

“Was she here? The woman he loves?” Minghao’s question is gentle but probing, his concern evident as he meets your eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper softly, the admission tasting bitter on your tongue, and you can feel a weight settling in your chest.

“I see.” He nods slowly, processing the gravity of your words. “Are you truly alright with this?” His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of uncertainty beneath it.

“Yes,” you affirm, though your voice shakes slightly, a part of you longing for reassurance.

“Then I shan’t bother you about it any longer. I must tend to Mother—if you need me, we shall be at the edges of the dance floor.”

“Brother?” You call after him as he turns away, the crowd shifting around you. “Thank you.”

His only response is a gentle smile before the crowd swallows him whole. The ballroom thrums with the sound of laughter and music, a whirl of colors and movements that feel distant and dreamlike. Your heart is heavy, and each beat echoes louder than the chatter around you. As you stand alone, the weight of unspoken words presses down on your shoulders like a cloak, and your thoughts swirl like the skirts of the dancers gliding across the floor.

Suddenly, Seokmin strides toward you, his figure slicing through the crowd with a sense of urgency. The moment his eyes lock onto yours, a spark ignites—a mix of anger and something deeper. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his brow furrows as he approaches, and you brace yourself for confrontation.

“Come with me,” he demands, his voice low but unmistakably firm, carrying an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating from him, a force you can’t ignore.

“Seokmin, please, I truly cannot fight with you any longer on this subject—” you start, your voice trembling slightly, but he interrupts, his frustration spilling over like a tide.

“I said come with me!” He grabs your wrist, his grip tight and insistent, forcing you to follow him through the thrumming crowd. The sound of your footsteps reverberates off the marble floors, each echo punctuating the space between you and the safety of the ballroom. The laughter and music fade, replaced by the heavy thrum of your heart and the frantic rustle of your gown.

“Seokmin, you’re hurting me!” you protest, panic creeping into your voice. You feel the pressure of his fingers, warmth mingling with the discomfort. As he glances back at you, anger flickers in his eyes before it softens, just for a moment, revealing a vulnerability that pulls at your heart.

He loosens his grip, but the air between you crackles with tension, a silent battle of wills that feels palpable. “Where are we going?” you ask, concern bleeding into your tone. “My mama will worry, and Minghao, and Jeonghan—”

“Damn Jeonghan!” he snaps, his voice rising, shattering the fragile silence around you. The heat of his words lingers in the air, mixing with the coolness of the corridor.

“Seokmin!” Your cheeks flush with indignation, a mixture of anger and hurt blooming in your chest.

“I told you,” he hisses, urgency fueling his movements as he pulls you further into the shadows of the hallway. The flickering candlelight casts ghostly shadows that dance along the walls, an eerie backdrop to your escalating emotions. “I told you he’s a scoundrel. And you wouldn’t listen—”

“Enough! I will not have you sully his good name. What in God’s name are you trying to accomplish?” you fire back, desperation tinging your words. The air feels thick, heavy with unresolved feelings that twist like vines around your heart.

“Will you listen?” He halts abruptly, spinning to face you, his expression a tempest of frustration. The tension radiates between you, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clench as he gestures toward a small window that overlooks the private gardens. “This is the man you wish to marry?”

He pushes the window open, and moonlight spills into the dim room, illuminating his features with a ghostly glow. Outside, you see Jeonghan, silhouetted against the soft glow of the moon, entangled in a passionate embrace with Lady Choi. A sickening twist of emotion churns in your stomach, a cocktail of heartbreak and unexpected relief; at least one of you gets a taste of the one they love.

“He is a SCOUNDREL,” Seokmin roars, his voice rising with indignation, the words dripping with disdain as he steps closer, his presence a whirlwind of intensity. “I shall duel him for your honor. I must tell Minghao of the grave error you have made—”

“Seokmin—” you start, your voice rising with urgency, but he interrupts again, the fervor in his tone igniting a fire within you.

“We must duel tonight, before the sun rises—”

“SEOKMIN! I knew.” The words escape you, a rush of truth that bursts forth like a dam breaking, raw and unfiltered.

“You��you knew?” His eyes widen, disbelief crashing over him like a wave, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The silence that follows is suffocating, filled only with the quickened rhythm of your breaths and the pounding of your heart. The weight of your confession hangs heavy in the air, thick as smoke.

“Yes.”

His expression contorts, shifting from shock to outrage, and you can feel the air crackling with tension. “You knew he was sinning with a married lady, no less, and you still agreed to marry him? My God, Y/N, I knew you wished to marry, but I didn’t know you would abandon all sense for that!” His hands are balled into fists at his sides, frustration radiating from him like heat from a flame.

Your chest constricts, the familiar ache of longing and sorrow spiraling within you. “Oh, you dolt, it was an arrangement! I knew he loved another, just as he knew I loved another!” You can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, the weight of your heartache spilling over into your voice, echoing off the cold walls.

A heavy silence envelops you both, every breath echoing with unspoken truths. The air feels charged, electric, as the reality of your situation sinks in.

“You love…someone?” he asks, the vulnerability in his voice slicing through the tension like a knife.

“I must go, my mama—” You attempt to break free, but he grasps your wrist again, his fingers warm yet insistent, the touch igniting a spark of something more profound within you. You can't meet his gaze, the shame of your feelings swirling with fear and longing.

“Y/N.” His voice is a soft plea, low and raw, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. The way he says your name sends a shiver through you, and for a moment, you feel as though you are on the brink of something monumental.

“Please, Seokmin.” Your voice trembles, a mixture of desperation and desire, the air thick with unspoken confessions.

“Who? I shall make him pay for everything he has done to you, my dear friend—how dare he—”

“Oh for God’s sake, it’s you!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, the truth bursting forth like a firework exploding in the night sky.

You attempt to retreat, to escape the intensity of the moment, but his grip is unyielding, a tether binding you to him. With a swift motion, he yanks you back, and before you can even process what’s happening, his lips crash onto yours, fierce and unrelenting. You can taste the warmth of his breath, the desperation in his touch, and it wraps around you like a cocoon. For that brief, intoxicating moment, everything else fades away—the hurt, the confusion, the chaotic world outside—leaving only the two of you.

You melt into him, the kiss a torrent of everything unspoken: the longing, the frustration, the fear of what lies ahead. It’s passionate and fierce, as if the very fabric of your souls is interwoven in that moment, a confession without words. His hands cup your face, grounding you as the world blurs around you, leaving just the warmth of his body and the desperate connection that binds you both.

He groans, muttering a curse under his breath, and it ignites something deep in the pit of your stomach. You know this is a terrible position – if anyone were to see you, your reputation, your future, your engagement would be ruined – but when his lips find your pulse point in your throat, all you can do is arch your back with a low keen. 

His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You clutch at his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket, desperate for purchase in this whirlwind of sensation. The rational part of your mind screams at you to stop, to push him away, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch with a hunger you've never known before.

"Seokmin," you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips. He responds with a low growl, pressing you against the wall, his body flush against yours. The heat between you is palpable, electric, threatening to consume you both.

His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You're dizzy with desire, drunk on his touch, on the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with the musk of his skin. You know you should stop this, end it before it ruins you.

But you can't bring yourself to end it. Not when his touch feels like salvation, like coming home after years of wandering lost.

"We shouldn't," you manage to whisper between kisses, your words contradicting the wayyour fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seokmin pauses, his breath hot against your neck. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice husky and strained. 

Before you can even fathom an answer, the sound of footsteps down the corridor sends your mind into a panic. You shove him off, urgently trying to right your dress. 

Seokmin stumbles back, his eyes wild and still clouded with the raw emotion of your kiss. His gaze locks onto yours, both of you caught between passion and the creeping dread of what you’ve just done. The footsteps draw nearer, each one a reminder of how close you are to ruin.

The door swings open, and Minghao strides in, his eyes narrowing the instant he takes in the sight of you both—flushed cheeks, disheveled attire, the undeniable aura of something forbidden and unspoken hanging heavy in the air.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minghao’s voice is a blade, slicing through the room with cold fury.

Seokmin straightens, trying to regain his composure, but the guilt is written all over his face. You feel your heart slam against your ribcage, panic curling like smoke in your chest. But Minghao’s gaze stays sharp, unforgiving as he looks between the two of you.

“Seokmin,” he starts, his voice low and dangerous. “You’ve dishonored my sister—this is unforgivable. You must either make amends or answer me on the dueling ground at dawn.”

You cast a desperate look toward Seokmin, but his face is tense, unreadable, his own turmoil barely held at bay. He takes a deep breath, then steps forward, addressing Minghao with a steady resolve you didn’t know he possessed.

“Minghao,” Seokmin says, his voice low, respectful. “Please understand. I would never wish harm or shame upon your sister. I care for her deeply—more than I can put into words.”

The air in the room thickens, dense and electric, as if even the walls are holding their breath, waiting for the decision that will shape your fate. Minghao’s stance is rigid, his eyes flashing with anger and something else—concern, maybe fear. It sends a cold wave through you, underscoring the gravity of what he’s demanding. The faint scent of candle wax mingles with the night air creeping through the open window, casting a ghostly glow across the floor.

Your heart races, each beat echoing like a drum in the silence. Your skin still hums with the memory of Seokmin’s touch, the heat of his kiss lingering on your lips like a forbidden brand. You swallow hard, the taste of that moment bittersweet, and glance toward Seokmin. His face is caught between shock and something else—determination, maybe defiance. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, and his gaze flits between you and Minghao as if assessing the weight of his next words.

“Then prove it,” Minghao says, voice low and slicing through the haze that surrounds you, “or I’ll demand satisfaction for my sister’s honor.”

The word honor hangs heavy in the air, and a slow burn of anger coils in your chest. Your fingers curl into your palms, nails pressing into the skin, grounding you against the urge to scream. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You never wanted to be caught like this, not in a moment of vulnerability twisted by the presence of an audience. Minghao’s protective stare feels like a chain around your neck, while Seokmin’s gaze—a mixture of apology and restraint—only intensifies the confusion swirling inside you.

“Brother,” you say, forcing your voice steady, though your heart feels as if it’s beating in your throat, “this is unnecessary. I am engaged to another. You know this. To demand a marriage over one moment is—”

Minghao cuts you off, shaking his head. “We both know that arrangement is nothing more than an exchange of power, not a bond of love. But this?” His eyes narrow as he looks at Seokmin, his expression hardening. “This is no mere arrangement. I won’t allow this… this recklessness to tarnish your future. Not if I can prevent it.”

His words twist around your heart, anger simmering as he speaks as though you’re not even here, as if you’re some fragile creature incapable of understanding the consequences of your own actions. You tighten your hands into fists, the fire in your chest blazing hotter, burning through your lingering shame and leaving only fury in its wake.

“Brother, this is my choice,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. You refuse to let him dictate your fate, no matter how well-intentioned he may be. “I won’t be forced into anything, not by you, and not by—”

“Fine,” Seokmin interrupts, his voice low, but the intensity behind it makes your breath hitch. His gaze shifts to Minghao, defiant yet respectful, a calm resolve settling over him that you’ve never seen before. “I’ll marry her.”

The words strike like a thunderclap, sudden and irrevocable, and the room feels smaller, suffocating in the aftermath. You gape at him, heart pounding, pulse roaring in your ears as the weight of what he’s said crashes over you.

“You’ll… what?” Your voice is little more than a whisper, confusion and anger tangling together, leaving you breathless. It’s as if the ground beneath you has tilted, your life, your future, shifting without your consent, controlled by the decisions of two men who seem to think they know what’s best for you.

Seokmin meets your gaze, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his eyes betrays the mask of resolve he wears. But then his expression steels, his jaw set as if he’s made peace with something.

“Fine,” he repeats, his tone unwavering. “I’ll do what’s necessary.”

The finality of his words ignites a fury in you, fierce and hot. How dare they decide your fate like this, without so much as a thought for your own desires, your own choices? Your fists clench, knuckles white as you stare between them, your breaths coming short, uneven.

Minghao nods approvingly, his gaze flicking back to you, as if expecting gratitude, as if this was what you wanted all along. But you feel trapped, as though walls are closing in, boxing you into a life decided for you, a future crafted by others’ expectations.

“Is that it, then?” you ask, the bitterness in your voice surprising even you. “You two decide, and that’s that? No thought for what I might want?”

Seokmin’s gaze wavers, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But he doesn’t answer, and neither does Minghao. The silence stretches, heavy and charged, and you realize with a sharp pang that neither of them truly understands—that perhaps they never will.

The weight of their silence drives you to turn on your heel, striding down the corridor in a rush to escape. You don’t care about decorum anymore. All you want is space, a moment to process the shock, the hurt, the sheer indignity of having your future decided without so much as a word from you.

But the sound of hurried footsteps behind you keeps pace. You don’t need to look back to know who’s following.

“Wait!” Seokmin’s voice is laced with desperation, and you feel the words tug at you despite yourself. “Please, Y/N—just… please, stay. Let’s talk this out.”

You quicken your steps, but his voice drags you back, its gentle earnestness slicing through your anger like a double-edged blade. You stop, shoulders tensing as you draw in a shaky breath, trying to steel yourself against him. But when you turn around, his expression—pleading, open, raw—almost undoes you.

“Talk about what, Seokmin?” you say, voice barely concealing the tremble. “There’s nothing left to discuss. Decisions have already been made, haven’t they?”

“Not like this,” he says, his voice soft, an ache threading through his words. His hand reaches out toward you, hesitating in the space between you both. “Not without you. I’m sorry. I should have… I should have thought—”

“No,” Minghao interrupts, stepping up beside Seokmin, his jaw set and his gaze unyielding. His hand wraps firmly around your elbow, his voice edged with protective steel. “It’s done for tonight. She’s had enough. We’re going home.”

Minghao’s grip is gentle yet firm, and before you can protest, he begins to lead you down the dimly lit corridor, each step echoing louder than the last. You glance back, catching the hurt etched into Seokmin’s face, his hand outstretched as though still reaching for you. But he doesn’t follow; he stays rooted in place, watching you disappear.

The carriage ride back is filled with silence so thick you could cut it. Minghao says nothing, and you’re grateful. You can barely keep your thoughts in line, let alone handle a conversation. You close your eyes, leaning back, but the image of Seokmin’s pleading face and the desperate, furious embrace you shared lingers like an imprint on your skin.

When you arrive home, you stumble up the stairs, trying to erase the chaos of the evening, but it follows you like a ghost. You catch your reflection in the hallway mirror, and the sight stops you cold. Your hair is in complete disarray, a few strands falling loose from your intricately pinned style, and your face is flushed, cheeks streaked with faint traces of dried tears. Your chest rises and falls, still heaving from the intensity of everything that has happened.

You barely recognize yourself. The wildness in your eyes, the raw emotion painted on your face—it’s as if the person staring back at you is a stranger, a part of you that you’d never thought you’d see.

Hours pass, but sleep evades you, each tick of the clock an insistent reminder of the turmoil simmering inside. Every time you close your eyes, you’re back in that dim room, tasting the fire of his kiss, feeling the weight of Minghao’s words, and wondering if you’ll ever be free from the choices that were made for you tonight.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits @moondustmemories @shinwonderful @ivehypnosis @gwend0lyne @thestoryofana13 @mellowamour @blissedjoon @begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld

@archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange

@uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

@spookyeomgoose @princelingperfect @tinkerbell460 @xueisaaa17

@deekaykaykay @ottersmind @sungbeam @blvenote @kyeomsworld

[redo-rewind-if]

Redo; Rewind Demo Update - Chapter 3

This update adds: Over 140k words (including code)!!

Features:

Go clubbing and run into a very familiar face.

Or, you could head over to the local music festival instead! Why bother tracking down your hitman. Unless...?

Attempt a little breaking and entering, just for fun.

Plant a listening device and hope for the best.

Head home and plan your next steps.

Possibly use your new time travel abilities to fix your mistakes. Or don't. It'll probably be fine.

As you can see, the update is finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, I really wasn't expecting it to. Alas, writing and coding are rather time consuming. And 100k words is basically a novel's worth.

Despite the word count, if you're only playing one route, it may not take you that long to read. Unfortunately, that is a problem with writing IFs, it feels like a lot when you're writing it but then when you go to play it...

On the plus side, there's many different routes you can try! I'd highly recommend using multiple saves to check out other options.

Regardless, I thank you all for your patience and support, and hope you enjoy it!

[Link] - Demo Update, Available Here!

(Make sure to start with a fresh save to avoid possible bugs caused by the old ones!)

[mechazushi]

Kafka Hibino

Kafka Hibino.... with visible salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka HIbino.... in that black turtleneck and a dark brown leather jacket and also wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing that outfit and is an Animal Biology Professor in an College Au.

Kafka Hibino..... asking out Hoshina who is an Advanced Mathematics Professor working at the same college, to have an after-work drink with him.

Slightly DRUNK Kafka Hibino... becoming very forward with an also slightly drunk Hoshina

Slightly Drunk Hoshina... immediately matching Kafka's freak tenfold and Kafka is very much fine with this.

[bookwormbynight]

It is 12:56 AM should I be sleeping because I have work in the morning?? Yes. Instead I am thinking about Light Yagami lying pretty in a coffin.

Ugh. UGH. What's he so gorgeous for. I need him to be dead. Once again this is @huyandere's fault because they fucking drew it and it was fantastic and I'm thinking about it AGAIN. I have created literally two AUs for this and one of them is the Snow White fanfic I'm writing chapter 3 for (this is the starting post of the other one). Help help help help help.

Do you guys?? Understand?? The vision?? Light, subdued and beautiful and just an object lying dead in a pretty coffin being pretty pretty pretty?? I--

[teecupangel]

Don’t get her wrong, she was grateful to be alive.

The moment those men kicked the door open to her hotel room, rifles already raised to fire, she knew she was going to die.

Her entire life didn’t flash before her eyes.

All she could think about was…

Layla.

Abstergo would have sent people to silence her too.

She wanted to warn her.

Wanted to keep her safe.

And a small part of her, a fleeting moment that she knew shouldn’t reflect on her entire being…

“It’s all her fault.”

That small thought.

That little flash of anger.

Transformed into guilt and dug its roots deep inside her.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Shit!”

She threw the cup she had filled with warm milk out of reflex.

It’s annoying how not even a drop of it hit him.

And all he did was leaned his head to the right.

“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Got used to people that can sense me.”

“And I keep telling you, those people are just as weird as you.” She complained before looking at the floor, “Sorry. That was rude.”

Especially to the man who saved her life…

“It’s fine. We should rarely be liable of what we say when we’re sleep deprived anyway.” He waved it off, making her look up to him once more.

He sit on the arm of the couch, an inch farther than what her arm can reach.

She wondered if he was being considerate or if he was being cautious.

He reminds her of the Bayek she sees in Layla’s sessions.

No.

Of Aya.

There was kindness and compassion in his eyes.

Hidden in the shadows of his calm but distant demeanor.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

“She’s with William Miles. Okay is very subjective.”

Sometimes, his speech would speak.

Different speech patterns…

Kind.

Arrogant.

Politeness hiding sarcasm.

But he had never lied to her before.

“She’s fine physically and mentally, for now.” He continued, “But she’ll use the Animus again. She has to.”

“Because William Miles tells her to?”

“Because it’s all she has left.”

She hugged her propped up legs and rested her chin on her knees, staring at him as she asked, “We’ll save her, right?”

He stared at her as a soft smile graced his face, “I promise to reunite the two of you, Deanna.”

She stayed quiet.

Even though she knew that he didn’t answer her question at all.

Hey bitchesss, I’m baaack!

Down to business:

Assassin’s Creed, but it’s just them scaring people.

Any fandom, any scenario, they just naturally are very silent, they like having that element of surprise. It’s their whole thing.

So, naturally, they tend to spook people either on purpose or by accident, most of the time it’s on purpose, but other times it’s because they genuinely forgot to make noise.

Or they stand in a shadowy corner and observe everyone from under their hood, standing like a weeping angel, super creepy, but uncannily beautiful.

Even as a friend or like a bodyguard, they lurk, it’s comforting to know they’re on your side, until they jumpscare you at 3am looking for BEANS.

Though when it’s other Assassins, they can just feel the vibe of their Brothers, so they just kinda go:

Shaun: “Well, I don’t know if there is anything on- oh, hello Desmond”

Desmond: *crouching up in the rafters, eyes glowing gold* “hey Shaun”

[klqdraws]

Explosions, amirite?

[sysig]

Good to see you again ♥ (Patreon)

Bonus:

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF TUCHANKA: TURIAN PLATOON

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, and Lt. Tarquin Victus With: Lt. Steve Cortez and The Ninth Turian Platoon Decisions like these weigh heavy on me- when I was a General, I could pass them up the chain of command. But now? I'm all I've got. I'm beginning to understand why leaders so often seem lonely... Worst case scenarios aren't just theories- they're what you'll be dealing with five minutes from now. Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[hide-in-imagination]

Hi!! I hope you're feeling better! So... I guess you are never gonna write that Pregnancy AU.... May I ask how that one would play out?

Hii!!

I am so sorry, but yeah, I don't think I'll ever have the time😅

So this is basically the plotline: Simón and Ámbar managed to have a short relationship in Season 2 before he found the handkerchief and everything went to hell. It wasn't a long relationship, mind you, but it was, like, two months or something like that, and in that time, they got intimate with each other (bc in this AU neither of them were virgins, so it was easier for them to just let their raging hormones go).

Anyway, eventually Simón found the handkerchief and they had an ugly break up just like in the show. Ámbar still took revenge on the Roller Team by joining the Sliders and stealing the choreography, she befriended Emilia during the month and a half in Cancún, and then everyone went back to Buenos Aires and Ámbar is now wearing full black, just like in the show.

Except, she's been feeling kind of weird lately and it only gets worse once she's back at her house. She thinks it might be stress or sadness because it's not even her house anymore and she's surrounded by annoying people and her godmother abandoned her. The flicker of an idea was in the back of her mind but she didn't want to believe that because why would she? Simón and her always used protection, so there was no way. (And her luck was already bad enough, so there was no way. Life couldn't hate her that much.)

But as time went by and her period didn't come and she was vomiting frequently, she just had to make sure. So she takes some tests some day that no one else is at the house, just for extra privacy, (I believe I wrote this in a oneshot? I don't remember) and... they're positive.

Ámbar doesn't take it well, for obvious reasons. She's extremely angry at Simón for not noticing that some condom broke because that was the only way this happened. She immediately thinks of getting an abortion bc why the hell would she have this baby? She's too young, Simón doesn't love her, no one loves her, Sharon abandoned her, she can't just further ruin her life, she can't.

Except then she remembers that she is adopted. She remembers that someone didn't want her and gave her away, and she just... can't do that to another person. This baby is not at fault for anything. Every child should be loved at least by their mother.

So, she decides to keep it. She is Ámbar Smith, she can do anything and triumph, so she will have this baby and do just that.

But, of course, that brings the problem that she has to tell Simón, because, even if they had a horrible falling out and she doubted he would want to be involved (hell, she didn't even know if she would want him to be involved) he deserved to know.

Keep in mind, this is not like in canon Season 3 where Simón had a magical change of heart and started flirting with Ámbar immediately at the beginning of the season. In here, things are strained between them. Simón had a lot of time to think in Cancún, so sure, he's not as angry with Ámbar as he originally was, he does feel a little bad for how he ended things with her, but he's not sorry he did end up things because Ámbar did a lot of bad stuff, and she was continuing to do bad stuff, with no apparent remorse, so he couldn't be with someone like that (no matter how much he still has feelings for her and sometimes longs for the old days in which they were together and happy.) He has noticed that Ámbar hasn't been feeling well lately, and against all reason, he's a little worried, but he's not going to ask; it's none of his business anymore.

So, Simón doesn't believe Ámbar at first when she tells him she's pregnant and the baby is his. After all, how could it be his? They used protection every time, and he tells her that, to which Ámbar replies that condoms are only 99% effective, they can break, but Simón, rightfully scared shitless at the possibility and also not trusting Ámbar one bit, doesn't believe they could be that unlucky and accuses her, instead, of sleeping with some other guy in Cancún and now trying to latch this baby onto him.

Ámbar is rightfully outraged and hurt, but mostly outraged, because "Why the fuck would I be telling you this if you weren't the father? Do you think I want you in my life after how you threw me away? If I could choose literally any other guy on the planet, I would!!" And "Lovely to know that you not only think of me as a liar but also as someone who just sleeps with anyone. Thank you very much, Simón. You know what? Think whatever you want. I'll take care of it on my own. Forget I said anything."

(Of course, that 'I'll take care of it' could very much mean 'I'll get rid of it', Simón has no idea she has decided to keep it, so there's that.)

Eventually, (and it doesn't take that long, really) Simón comes around because Ámbar's logic does make sense (Why would she tell him of all people when they broke up horribly? It had to be true) and also because, well, Ámbar looked sincere (he ignores the voices in his head calling him stupid for trusting her) and condoms aren't perfect, and he wants to believe that what they had really did mean something, and they created something beautiful together as proof of that, even if the magic of those days is dead now.

So he appeals to Ámbar, tries to tell her that he wants to be part of it, but Ámbar is shutting him out because she's mad as hell at him (and maybe she's mad at a lot of other things and projecting that onto him as well, but fuck him, he got her pregnant at 18)

Eventually, they have a deep conversation and decide to do this together, even if they're not together anymore. (I wrote a oneshot about this, it starts as a fight but it deescalates.) So, Simón supports her in every way that he can, goes to the doctor's appointments (if Ámbar lets him tag along), reads info on the internet, pretty much gives up on his music dreams because he needs a better job if he wants to help Ámbar take care of the baby, etc.

(When Ámbar finds out about this, she tells him to not drop everything for her, that she has money, that Luna already promised to give half the fortune to her to support the baby, but Simón is not convinced. He has to do something. He is half-responsible for that baby and Ámbar is already doing everything by carrying it to full term, how can he not contribute with something?)

Btw, telling both their families is a whole mess, but eventually, they all come around because they're good people. (Some relatives of Simón do say that he should marry her because it's the responsible thing to do, but they're old-fashioned, and Ámbar wouldn't want to marry him even if he asked. ......right?)

So, the pregnancy moves forward, making them share little moments together like the ultrasounds, feeling when the baby starts kicking, learning the gender (It's a girl!!), and both talking and singing to it because they learn that she can hear them and they want her to know her mommy's and daddy's voices. ("We'll probably make a lot of mistakes, little one, but we promise to do our best for you.")

Throughout all this, Ámbar mellows out because, she's a mother now, all those petty rivalries and revenge plans are not important anymore, her baby is, and she wants to be a good example for her, she doesn't want her to go through what she did.

And Simón was always soft, but he softens even more when Ámbar stops being hostile towards everyone and instead starts acting like the Ámbar he fell in love with. Plus, she looks absolutely radiant. Whoever came up with the term 'baby glow' was 100% correct-- She's never been more beautiful.

By the second semester, the attraction between the two is all alive and kicking again (and was it ever really gone?) and around month 5 they end up kissing because they just couldn't not to. But it's not as simple as that because now they have a baby to think about. They can't just try and date again, that already didn't work once, and they had enough problems and things to deal with now to add a blooming exes-to-lovers relationship to the mix.

So they don't get back together... yet. The feelings are there, the attraction is there-- Hell, they kiss sometimes because it feels right and as long as it's just some innocent kisses, there's no problem, right? (It does get heated sometimes- But is still just kisses!) They agree that it's just not the time to rekindle this thing between them. They should wait until the baby is born, see if after months of sleepless nights and changing diapers and stress taking care of it they still have feelings for each other, and if so, then it could be smart to try again.

Except-- FUCK THAT, because they love each other, Simón loves her, and Ámbar could die in the delivery, and then what? They were never together because of fear? Who cares if it might not work out, no one ever knew that for sure, and it was precisely because of their baby that they should try. She deserved a whole family instead of a fragmented one, didn't she?

Simón conveys all of this to Ámbar, speaks about hope and believing in love and about how in love with her he is and how much he loves their daughter already, and how he just doesn't want to wait to be with her and start their life together.

It's all so beautiful and emotional that Ámbar's eyes water and... Oh. Her water broke.

Oh Shit.

oH SHIT!

So, anyway, they rush to the hospital (don't worry, the baby was close enough to full-term that it's not really dangerous, it's fine) and Ámbar has the delivery (she curses everything and everyone while Simón tells her she's strong and she can do this!) and, eventually, their beautiful daughter is born.

They both cry. Well, and the baby too, of course, so that makes three.

In the end, it all works out; They're together, their daughter is (demanding, exhausting, overwhelming) healthy and beautiful and they love her so much, everyone dotes on her (Simón moved into the mansion for the time being, and Ámbar's whole family is there to help them raise their daughter, so it's not so hard), Simón and Ámbar's relationship seems to be working even with all the stress (they support each other, so that helps them bond), oh, and the Roller Band does get a record deal (BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT, THEY BASICALLY HAD IT WITH VIDIA, YOU CAN NOT TAKE THAT AWAY FROM THEM.)

*Cough* So, happy ending to everyone! Eventually, Ámbar finds the time to go to university (I'll let you choose what she studies), and once she graduates, Simón proposes to her, she says yes, and they live happily ever after with their lovely daughter <3 (And if there's another little one on the way after the honey moon, well... 🤫 Don't tell them yet, it's a surprise.)

[fictionadventurer]

I have three stories that I would like to write at least some part of before the deadline for the Inklings Challenge.

I am scrolling tumblr and obsessively looking up book recommendations online.

I see some problems here.

[basil-the-bulbasaur]

My sibling told me if I was a super villain I would only ever be as evil as Dr. Doofenshmirtz and my mom reacted as if that was an insult

Like, I don't think you understand, that's the dream. Sure, theoretically my goals involve world domination, but that's mainly because I feel like I should have goals. I don't know what I would do if I successfully took over the world.

The real dream is for my evil plans to be comically thwarted by my nemesis, who is an non-human animal in a tiny hat, perhaps a fly.

"A bluebottle fly?" I say, before they put on a tiny fedora, "Barry the bluebottle fly‽‽‽ I shouldn't be surprised you'd show up so soon." and then I catch them in my net and put them in a jar (with air holes of course) (I may be evil but I wouldn't hurt a fly).

"I'm certain you've come here today because you noticed the drones I've positioned over the fields. You see, Barry the bluebottle fly, ever since I was a young lad I've hated eggplants. It did not matter much when I was young, and rarely encountered that foul nightshade, but then- I came out as gay. People love a phallic symbol, but of course, the one they use just has to be the dreaded eggplant. The people deserve better than that disgusting food. Which is why I am going to release a swarm of locusts to destroy all the eggplants! And society will be forced to choose a new symbol to represent the-"

That's when I'm interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, as Barry, who was knocking against the side of the jar, succeeds in getting it to roll off the counter I set it on.

They quickly distract me by flying directly towards my eyes, causing me to flinch and drop the drone controller. I attempt to catch it, but fumble, hitting the self destruct button and foiling my own plan.

"Curse you Barry the bluebottle fly!!!!" I scream as they fly out the vents, leaving me alone to grieve another failed plan.

[gildedmuse]

Despite all appearances otherwise, I'm still (like barely) alive. I'm actually all caught up with the anime right now and there is just so much I've been needing to scream into the electronic void talk about. (I've even got screenshots/gifs for most of it, it's just a matter of finding a time when work doesn't drain every inch of my health by the end of day.)

But I didn't stop by to complain! No, I just wanted to share a minor clip from one of the more recent episodes. Nothing big or spoilery or anything, promise. It's just this small, otherwise unimportant, entirely missable scene....

You know, the one with Zoro being so unbelievably sexy that I haven't once stopped thinking about it in DAYS.

Just look at him! That smirk! (Are they sure Enma is the sharpest blade because that smile could cut right through a Mihawk's cold, haki infused heart.) Actually, you don't even have to look at him, that voice alone is easily more powerful than Gears 1 through 3 (and hey, I won't claim it could take on the god-like powers of Gear 4, we don't really have enough material to judge. Oh, here's an idea! Let's put them both in front of Law, see which one destroys him faster. I don't care if Gear 4 is Buggy-Bunny-But-The-Rock, The Rock still has to wind up his punches. But that look directed right at you? The devastation is likely immediate and irreversible.)

Like, the way he starts out almost defeated, the gravity and soberness in that initial "No" as he turns to face this seemingly unbeatable force. He's put the weight of Luffy's dream and the promise he's made to his captain on winning this battle, and taken along with how serious and direct he's been with Franky so far it helps create an expectation we're going to see that determined, unemotional, unbending Zoro from Thriller Bark or his battle with Kaido. He'll probably say something somehow very self centered while appearing selfless with that grave steeliness he gets when he's resolved against all odds like, "No, I have to do this alone" or "No, what good am I as a swordsman if I can't do this for my crew and our captain?" or if he wanted to go with the typical overly dramatic swordsman tone: "No, Luffy is trusting me - to defeat this man, and make him king of the pirates!" And we'd all swoon because even though Luffy's default introduction/greeting/phrase to yell out regardless of the circumstances is, "My name is Luffy D Monkey and I'm going to be the king of the pirates!" when it's someone else saying it, fans get all emotional. Especially if it's one of the core characters who has a reputation as being more mature or is typically more reserved and private or is, I don't know, someone who tends not to waste his breath correcting stupid people who are being stupid because what does Zoro he care what these nobodies think, Zoro he knows with unshakeable certainty that what Luffy says is true and has enough confidence in both his captain and his own abilities that other's opinions aren't worth addressing.

And even though Zoro turning all seriousness and focused marks some amazing moments in battles, the way that at the last second he is staring straight ahead at this natural disaster level foe and that smile just cuts across his face, completely slicing through that more serious mask Zoro sometimes wears to reveal that bloodlust and pure unadulterated love of the challenge is so absolutely gorgeous and perfect and satisfying.

Like, yeah, of course I love when Zoro gets all Business-Only, For-My-Crew-Name-And-Captain and just doesn't back down or lose focus because he understands this is something he has to do and only he can take on this fight. It fills me with so many, many emotions all of which Zoro is doggedly ignoring because it's all about The Fight but in my heart I know it's because he feels so much for his friends that he's decided that this is his role on the crew to act as both attack and guard dog and take/deal the hits they can't. Beautiful.

But man, oh, man, can anything beat when Zoro goes full "fucking brat who thought learning to hold a katana between his teeth and stumbling his way through a handful of forgettable bounties meant that when the worldwide champion, a warlord, a man so unmatched he's become bored of the very art he master just happened to be passing by he immediately thought to himself, yeah, I'm MORE than ready to kick this asshole off his throne. Hell, just last week I was stabbed and nearly killed by some shitty clown but look how that turned out. I can take on anyone, this bastard included. For fuck's sake he's only got one sword. Fucking amateur."? And whose sole reaction to having his chest sliced in half was, "yo, captain, if you've got a fucking problem with me being fucking UNSTOPPABLE speak up while you can because after this, it's all kicking ass all the time."?

Like, man, you are one cocky little idiot. Never change.

And he didn't.

[erythristicbones]

while i do love that i decided to write the EOTA trilogy w/ different POVs for each book, bc yea it's just the same 6 ppl working together regardless but it's important to see all of their POVs, it does also leave a lot unexplored for the previous POVs each time. like these things still happen and i DO get to explore them, its just different when it's no longer the POV