Wrapped Up | Lee Minho

Wrapped Up | Lee Minho

Wrapped Up | Lee Minho

Pairing: Lee Minho x reader (college!au, f2l)

Summary: The dance soc is not the place to flirt but you promised yourself you’d try new things this year, and when the boy wearing the colourful cosy sweater approaches you with a compliment you can’t resist but respond to him.

Genre: smut, romance, fluff (pwp)

Wc: 12.4k (I am so sorry)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: dirty talk, sensory play (ish), creampie, mirror sex, clothed sex (not dry humping but that too), fingering, oral (f receiving), Lino's a keen bastard and I am obsessed with that cardigan that is it.

A/N: Thank you for looking over this fic and the amazing feedback @btssmutgalore (this one is for you) and thank you @notyouroppar for patching up my plot holes even if all you wanted was to eat your cake! Insanity part 2 but I wanted to write it, and I hope it is enjoyable to read.

Copyrights for the story and banner @joyfulhopelox

That being said please enjoy! I would love to hear from you so please leave me a message! 💌

Wrapped Up | Lee Minho

He was wearing that stupid sweater again. Another gruesome day in the dance studio. The preparation for the upcoming show for the holidays made you stay behind for hours to practice. And your best friend, danseur extraordinaire Lee Minho who dragged you into the production was wearing that stupid brightly coloured jumper. Again. And by the looks of it, the strip of skin and peek of collarbone you got when he made certain movements meant he was scarcely wearing anything underneath it.

“Anything wrong?” His voice broke you out of your concentration, the surprise of having been addressed whilst you were busy staring at the bright fluffy sweater imagining what may be underneath it, making you jump.

Prying your eyes away from his chest, you met his amused expression, aware of your own flustered one. “No, why would you say that?” You asked quickly, swallowing hard at the mischievous look he was throwing your way. If anything, Lee Minho was a serious tease, but a harmless one. He always found new ways to make the heat rise up under your skin by teasing you, but he’s never made a move to follow through with it.

And as much as you wanted it to happen, he was your friend, and you couldn’t risk your friendship for something like that. So you chose to ignore his teasing most of the time, brushing it away with light jokes hoping it would deter him from continuing. Unfortunately, your plan backfired when he became more and more insistent, his jokes switching to light touches here and there and compliments with every opportunity he got.

“You were staring,” he shrugged, taking a swig of his water, his breathing still heavy from the effort. You tried to disprove his point by avoiding the wet trail of sweat that mapped his jawline, slowly making its way down the smooth skin of his neck only to disappear underneath the hem of his jumper.

“Are you not hot in that?” You threw back at him, forcibly turning away from him if only to evade the satisfied smirk you knew all too well.

“Depends, want me to take it off?” He fired back and you gasped, appalled at his preposterous proposal. Despite your strong reaction, your mind instantly wandered to places you told yourself you would not touch. Minho was not ugly. In fact, he was the exact opposite - high cheekbones, defined jawline, and a slightly downward pointed chin, all making him incredibly good looking. Enough that you would find yourself thinking about his lips and what they would feel like pressed all over your skin. The lustful thoughts suddenly intruding in your mind made you squirm and it was you who ended up feeling too warm.

“N-no, thanks,” you said, clearing your throat vigorously in hopes that it would serve to clean your mind of your own thoughts. Trying to change the subject, you ran through the choreography in your head, your feet trying to copy what you remembered from your class earlier that day.

“No, not like that. It should be like this,” Minho interrupted you, his body automatically catching up with your moves and correcting you. Taken by surprise, you stopped moving, your eyes narrowed in annoyance, breath coming out in rasps from the effort.

“No, it’s not, not my part,” you disagreed with him once your breathing levelled and you could stand up straight. Coming face to chest with him, you took a step back.

If you were squaring back with him, you needed to not be in close proximity. His being alone made you malfunction. “My part goes slower at the beginning and then quicker at the end. I’m the third row,” you told him matter of factly.

Minho was silent for a second before he sighed, shaking his head. Turning away from you, he grabbed his discarded water. “Do you really think,” he said, taking a sip out of it before putting it back down and moving nearer to you. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to stay rooted on the spot. The impulse to move away from him and put some distance between the two of you was too strong, you could barely think let alone argue an intelligent point. “Do you really think I don't know what row you are in?” He repeated making you look at him in confusion.

He looked serious, his eyes framed by light coloured bangs shadowing them, his lips pursed in concentration. It was all you needed for your heart to stop beating and your breath to cease.

“I’m always keeping an eye on you and what you’re doing, Y/N,” he simply said. The way his voice lowered as he said it made it sound so natural that for a second you almost believed him. Then you remembered he was normally the one to step in when the dance teachers needed extra hands.

Still flustered and disappointed at yourself for entertaining these thoughts, you looked away. “Clearly not, there is a different part to the choreography than what you’ve just shown me,” you didn’t know why you were so adamant to prove him wrong. Maybe it was the disappointment of not being more special in his eyes, or maybe it was the stubbornness of not wanting to admit that his intense stare on you in every class meant the exact opposite. But, you felt the strong need to argue your point and refute his. “Regardless, I won’t get them. It’s too hard.”

“Y/N…” he trailed off, sighing, frustration clear in his voice.

“Minho, what–?” Unable to finish your sentence as he pulled you to him, hand holding onto your wrist, the other keeping you secure by the waist, you struggled to make sense of what was happening. One moment you were arguing about dance moves, the next you were enveloped in his warmth, the soft material of his sweater brushing the inside of your palm.

“What are you doing?” Your voice wavered, your hand subconsciously grabbing onto his top, the plush feeling offering the comfort your heart needed.

“You said you don’t get the steps. I will show you them,” his voice wasn’t louder than a whisper, but the pointed way in which he said it, eyes staring intensely into yours, made your toes curl. In awe at the determination you found in Minho’s eyes, paired with the way his fingers gripped onto your own flimsy sweater entranced you. You couldn’t help but mindlessly nod, letting him pull you slightly to the middle of the room. Stood there, you refused to look away from him, his eyes still trained on you, lips slightly parted – he was a vision.

“You have to move, Y/N,” he gently coaxed, his feet slowly shuffling, pulling you along with him. “You can’t dance if your feet are not moving.” The mischievous look flashed again in his eyes, yet his smile remained gentle and comforting. Under his movements, your feet followed – slow and uncertain. One step, two step, three step, four.

“That’s it,” Minho encouraged, his face breaking out in a smile. Your hand twitched on his jumper, your fingers accidentally scraping at the skin underneath, making him hiss.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you said, gasping, going to pull away. His quick reflexes prevented you from doing so, the arm around your waist pulling you back in before you could move further away. Not expecting his reaction, you stumbled over your feet almost stepping over his.

“There is no need to apologise, shall we try again?” He asked, not waiting for an answer.

Minho’s feet had already started moving, his movements quicker and more certain than before. Feeling as if you were going to trip once more over your own feet, or worse, his, you looked down worriedly. The way he moved had always enthralled you, so much precision and confidence. But the way he moved now paired with your own shabby movements as comparison, made it so you couldn’t look away.

“Ah, embarrassing,” you muttered to yourself, willing your feet to be more graceful. When it didn’t work, you sighed, feeling another wave of dejectedness washing over you.

“Hey, eyes up. This is not a waltz, I will need to move behind you,” Minho announced, not giving you any time to redress yourself before he pulled away, not further than a few centimetres. You could feel the air whoosh around you as he moved, his body emanating heat, the goddamned sweater brushing against you as he went. Settling behind you, he encircled your waist once more.

“Now slowly,” he instructed and you obeyed, eyes still trained on Minho, your feet followed the movement. “You will need to look in the mirror. Eyes up. On yourself. Dance with your reflection.”

His words made you groan. You didn’t have the best relationship with mirrors, especially not when dancing, the lack of self confidence that came with being a newbie in the studio put a damper on any outrageous moves like that.

“This is stupid, Minho, let’s drop it,” you whined, trying to pull away. Stepping away from him was easier than before as he was not holding your hand anymore, but he followed right behind you, his hand gripping at your top. You whined for him to let you go, entirely self-aware of how sweaty and grimy you were.

“We’re dancing, Y/N, not having sex,” Minho said and you gasped at his outrageous behaviour. Turning your head to look at him, you felt the heat rush to your face, your knees almost buckling at the impish smile he threw your way. “Unless you want to of course,” he winked, gauging your awed expression.

Feeling like a fish out the water, your mind reeling with possibilities, you breathed easily when he didn’t push for a response. Instead, his expression turned serious, and you found yourself admiring him. He had a certain spark in his eyes whenever he was dancing – probably because that was the only time he was genuine enough. Having experienced Minho’s teasing for so long whenever you two spoke, you tended to forget that he could be serious on occasion. Dancing always being the one you saw him most often in.

“Now, look at yourself. If you can’t do that,” he took a step closer, his hand grabbing your wrist again, “ look at me.” He was close enough now that you could feel his heat through both of your jumpers once more. You couldn’t help but listen, the tone in his voice leaving no room for argument. You looked up, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you felt your skin grow hotter. Your hair was in disarray, your flushed skin was shiny, the beads of perspiration from earlier giving you a glow, your lips were swollen from biting them too much in concentration. What made your stomach clench and the heat pool all the way down your spine was the look he was throwing you in the mirror. Not looking better than you, Minho sported the same flushed face, his hair mussed from dancing earlier , the sheen of sweat more prominent on his skin. When your eyes met in the mirror, his darkened for a split second, and you felt your throat constrict.

“Let’s go,” he moved. “Keep your eyes in the mirror, watch me.”

It was not the appropriate context and you could have sworn at yourself for allowing your thoughts to wander where they shouldn’t. But, the slight waver in his voice told you that his words held more meaning than dancing. Letting your feet move, you mulled over what he meant, your mind furthest away from dancing.

“Eyes on me, Y/N,” Minho sounded strict, yet his fingers gently reached to grab your chin, pulling your head back up and holding it in place for a few seconds, asserting himself.

Showing you once more the movement, you tried to focus on the way his whole body moved. It wasn’t hard, he was demanding your attention from the moment he started moving. However, you were not thinking clearly, and certainly not about the dance.

His jean-clad thighs, tight enough that you could see the muscles moving underneath the material as he showed you the steps, paired with the goddamn sweater were drawing your thoughts to your aching core.

You struggled to keep up with him and your own thoughts at the same time and, when your concentration completely broke and you took a misstep falling flat onto your ass, the dam broke. Swearing out loud, you could feel the tears gather in your eyes, the frustration building up until you couldn’t take it anymore. Aware of Minho’s gaze on you, you tried to play it off by reaching for your bottle of water.

“Maybe I should just call it quits now,” you grumbled, throwing the bottle you drank out of far into the corner. Sweat was dripping down the side of your face, and the inertia after the vigorous exercise made your joints ache. You wanted nothing more than to be in a bath at home, curled up and crying. Feeling the tears in your eyes you sniffled, you didn’t want to show him your pain, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Shit, are you ok?” Minho quickly approached you, his warm hand attaching itself onto your shoulder.

His voice sounded panicked and, as soon as he realised you were close to tears, he crouched in front of you, eyes full of worry and teeth gnawing at his lips. Even in this state, you couldn’t help but set aside your pain and marvel at him. How he managed to distract you in such a way you’d never know. But then again, you’ve had a crush on him for the longest time; rekindled by a chance meeting on a train. Wearing the same stupid coloured sweater.

=====

Rush hour was the bane of everyone’s existence, you were certain of this fact. Anyone who claimed to not see it that way either had no idea what they were talking about or were lying straight through their teeth. There was nothing worse than being stuck on a train, a can on wheels, for at least half an hour, pressed up against one thing or another. If it wasn’t the pole of the train, it was against the doors or, worse, another human whose life was made as miserable as yours by you squishing into them. When the same scenario happened that day though, you swore things would never be the same. For the first time, being pressed like a bug between the door and someone else didn’t feel like hell. It felt comfortable.

That day you had the misfortune of leaving university later than you normally would, your assignments seemed to be piling up by the hour and you struggled to concentrate. It didn’t help that you went out with your friends to celebrate a birthday the night before, got drunker than you would normally and declared loud and proud that you would gracefully exit your celibate ways. When your friends made fun of you, reminding you how unlikely it was for you to have a spontaneous date or one night stand, you retaliated quickly promising that by next week you wouldn’t have had either or.

Remembering all that the next day during your classes was a hammer to your head; alongside your hangover, it made you want to crawl underneath the desk and pray for a swift death.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice whispered. Broken out of your thoughts, your body further being pressed against the door, you closed your eyes for a moment prepared to experience the harsh feel of someone’s coat against you and the stench of a day’s worth of cheap cologne and body odour.

Surprisingly, none of these hit you, but rather the gentle brush of soft wool combined with a sweet scent assaulted your senses and you opened your eyes confusedly. The array of colorful patterns that greeted you made you frown—it was rare that anyone wore anything outside of the earthy spectrum of colours. What furthered your confusion was the soft material that brushed against your hand from time to time when the train would take a turn and the person wearing it would lean further into you.

You resisted the urge to reach out and pat the material, not wanting to come across as the creep on the train. Intrigued by their fashion choice, you tried to focus on the other aspects of the person. Trailing your eyes away from the buttons of the sweater, you couldn't help but note their height and the amount of skin that was displayed right in front of you.

Gulping, you slowly pried your eyes away from the defined collarbone that would peek out of the edge whenever the person’s body moved closer towards you. If you would have been in a different situation, you wouldn’t have hesitated to turn around to save yourself from the embarrassment of ogling someone. However, you were stuck between this person and the door with little room for movement. Accepting your fate, you sighed dejectedly, regretting it immediately as the sweet cologne invaded your nostrils once more.

Carrying on with your inspection felt like an intrusion now, yet you couldn’t help yourself as curiosity got the better of you. The person was tall, but not as tall to impede you from getting a perfect view of his face. You bit your lip, the urge to groan in frustration dying in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he was good looking. With a softly defined jaw, plump lips with a slight pout, high cheekbones and incredibly soft looking skin, he looked like a winner in the looks department and his brightly coloured sweater only served to accentuate that.

“Goddamn,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the strap on your shoulder. You would remember those features anywhere, the features that tormented you in dance school as he mocked your skills until he brought you to tears.

“Are you ok? I’m not squishing you, am I?” You jolted at the question, eyes immediately snapping back in focus. Finding the handsome yet forbidden man staring at you in concern, a slight frown on his face didn’t surprise you as much as your response did.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather get squished by you than groped by a pervert,” you replied instantly, feeling the embarrassment crawl up your skin and heat up your face. Not one to let your words out without a filter, you felt mortified at your bravery.

You didn’t think he’d be able to get more handsome, but as he snorted at your comment, his lips slightly parted in laughter you realised how wrong you were.

“Do you always place that much trust in good looking people? Or is it just me?” He asked, the humour in his eyes making your palms sweat in mortification. Mortification because you easily recognised that face now that you stared at it long enough.

“Pffft, you’re not that special, who said you’re good looking?” You smartly responded, congratulating yourself for your swift comeback. You could’ve kicked yourself for not realising who he was sooner.The unmistakable lips and high cheekbones should have given him away.

“You were staring,” Minho responded, too quickly for your liking. Wondering how long he’s noticed you giving him the once over, you cleared your throat scrambling to find a good enough answer when your eyes caught sight of his lanyard.

“It’s not like I can look anywhere else,” you mumbled, shuffling on your feet. “Anyways Minho, what are you doing on this train? Do you live around here?” You inquired, eyes narrowing suspiciously. Trying not to cringe at your own prodding, you kept your eyes on his as a last attempt to make yourself look confident.

“As a matter of fact, I go to university around here. Now I’m questioning who the perverted one is. It’s been so long, Y/N, never thought you’d turn up in my life like this,” he laughed lightheartedly, leaning in towards you. The strong scent paired with his demeanour made your breath catch in your throat and you pulled back as much as you could. Your thoughts were jumbled, the realisation of your situation finally dawning on you. This was Lee Minho, your crush since middle school and your tormenter since before that.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t have happened if I could’ve helped it,” you muttered looking away from him, missing the slight frown that crossed his face. The train was close to pulling into the station, the jostle of the tracks paired with the shuffling of passengers desperate to make it to the door through the crowd caused you to stumble. Back hitting the door of the carriage, you yelped, the slight awkward angle that you hit it at made it pulse in pain.

Minho grabbed your shoulder a bit too late, his eyes widened as you hurt yourself. He winced as you let out a yelp. He could almost feel the bruise and could imagine it wasn’t a pleasant experience. “You good?” He asked worriedly. Not wanting to allow him to be privy to your moment of weakness, you shrugged.

“Who’s the pervert now?” Before he could respond, a look of confusion still etched onto his face, the train stopped announcing your stop. “Ah, well I have to dash,” you muttered, not bothering to look back as you exited the train hurriedly.

Later you would find out, he went to the same university as you did, and he had been going there for a while, you just never happened to cross paths. But when you decided to be brave and go for extracurricular activities that you wouldn’t normally go for, such as the dance society, you literally bumped into him.

=====

Running like a madwoman before you were about to enter a dance class was not a good idea and you knew it. You would be out of breath before the hour even started. But with the amount of presentations you had to take care of, and the pit stop you made by the coffee shop before heading to the dance club made you later than you’d intended. Sad that you had to down the rest of your drink before even getting to fully enjoy it, you legged it to class. Cursing softly under your breath, you realised you were already ten minutes late, something not so bad when it came to an elective, but this happened to be the first day of class. And you’ve just managed to brand yourself as the late one.

You didn’t even care that you were running at risk of bumping into anyone who may be rounding the corner until you slammed into a body, the force of it knocking you back. Almost losing your balance, you yelped as a hand grabbed you roughly stopping you from planting your bum onto the hard floor.

“Woah there. Are you alright?” A soft voice asked, sounding concerned. Too dazed to apologise, you could only nod, your sole focus set on regaining your breath.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I am late for class,” you said panting, gaze focused on the floor. You were feeling dizzy, the impact serving as a good reminder that you were not someone who had good stamina. Making a mental note to yourself that running across campus was probably something you shouldn’t attempt ever again, you straightened up. Feeling like the ground was not at risk of running away from you, you were ready to properly apologise to the victim of your mad dash when you came face to face with a familiar sweater. Eyes widening in recognition, you stumbled back a step grateful for the hand still holding onto you. “Oh.”

Minho chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s ok. Just be careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” he bent down towards you, lowering his voice, ”or anyone else for that matter.”

“I, uh, thank you,” you swallowed hard, his proximity to you making you dizzy once more. His sweet scent, the one that followed you even after you have exited the train, enveloped you and you fought the urge to inhale. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bash into you like that. Did I hurt you?” You said panicked that you may have caused him harm, his words finally registering in your head. Without thinking, you immediately touched the arm that was still firmly holding onto you, prepared to check for any bruises until his laughter stopped you.

“I am ok, Y/N. You’re not that strong,” Minho teased, his eyebrow raised in amusement. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” He watched as your face contorted in horror.

“Crap! Dance class! I am going to be late,” you let your head drop in your hands, ashamed at yourself for being so late. When Minho chuckled at you, you reeled back looking at him flabbergasted. “Do you think this is funny?” Appalled by his reaction, you prepared to yell at him about how important time keeping was for you, until he shook his head, the amusement never leaving his eyes.

“No, not at all. I am just laughing at the fact that somehow we managed to not only intersect as complete strangers on a train when we were friends before and we seem to be in the same university. But we are also part of the same society,” he chuckled, pushing your shoulder lightly as he started to walk down the corridor. “Don’t worry, I am their best dancer, if you go in with me you won’t look as bad, newbie,” Minho teased and you fought the urge to roll your eyes, not believing his audacity for a second.

“Pshhhyea right,” you mocked, making him throw you a look of disbelief.

“Well, I guess we will see. You will eat your words, Y/N,” he warned as you came up to the doors of the dance room.

And eat your words you did. In high resolution, eight step choreographies and nights where all you could think of was him and the passion he put into moving.

==========

“Y/N? Are you ok? If you need to cry, just cry,.” his voice brought you back to the present, the amusement at the memory of when you met him having passed, you felt useless once more.

You didn’t know whether it was the pent-up frustration or the comfort his touch brought you, but you found yourself leaning onto him, the onslaught of tears hidden by his sweater. Your body was shaking with the force of your sobs, your hands grabbing tightly onto the plush material of Minho’s top in a last attempt to find some grounding.

Hiccuping your apologies before another fresh wave of tears made you tremble in his arms and when he brought you closer to him, your face slotted in between his shoulder and neck, you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him. Everything came out of you at once, your struggles and pain pouring out of you in waves, not stopping until Minho gently shushed you.

“It’s ok, let it all out. I’m here,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders, his hand gently patting your head in a comforting manner.

When you profusely apologised the next second, he tightened his grip on you, his lips mindlessly pressing down onto the crown of your head. The soft pressure made you pause, the blood rushing to your cheeks. Even through the tears, you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, the pulse rapidly increasing, making your sobs subside to light sniffles. Not able to process what had happened, you stayed in his arms until your heart stopped banging about your chest and the heat in your cheeks subsided.

“You’re not a failure, you’re one of the best dancers we have. You’ve not only learned everything from scratch and managed to hold your own against some of our older, more experienced members, but you also got chosen to perform for this round. Plus I think –” he cooed, his voice ringing clearly in your head. Minho paused for a second as if trying to decide whether he should carry on or not, before he took a deep breath in. “I think you’re one heck of a partner,” he admitted so softly you almost didn’t catch it.

“I can’t even get down a simple step sequence,” you breathed, feeling a fresh new wave of tears well up in your eyes.

When you finally pulled away, you tried to scoot as further away as possible from him, your hands busy with clearing the marks on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, feeling flustered. You refused to meet his eyes, the reality of what’s happened hitting you like a freight train. “Oh God, I’m really sorry,” you hurriedly added, noticing the wetness on his skin. Without a thought, you pulled your own sweater over your hand reaching out to pat him dry until his hand gently grabbed yours.

“Y/N, please don’t,” he softly whispered, his voice sounding strained. Frozen, you hesitantly looked up only to meet his eyes. His brows were furrowed as if he was in pain, his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes darkened.

“Minho,” you whispered, the pain in his eyes making your heart clench with worry. “Are you ok?”

For a second, it seemed like he was about to keel over in pain, his eyes closed a frown etched onto his face. Your heart was beating faster and faster, mind reeling with possibilities as to what may have made him hurt like that. Your hand still in his, you pulled lightly at it in an attempt to free yourself from his warm hold. Even through your sweater, the heat radiating off of him was burning itself as a memory onto your skin. The movement seemed to have snapped something in him—in the next second your hand was freed and Lee Minho was as far away from you as possible.

Confused, and a bit hurt you stared at him, your hand cradling the one he pushed away from him to your chest. You didn’t know what happened, but the way he paced the floor, the soles of his sneakers squeaking against the polished wood, a concentrated look on his face told you he was done talking. Deciding to not push it, you cleared your throat and hoisted yourself up onto your feet.

“Right, well seeing as this turned into something none of us wanted, I will be calling it a day,” you announced, hoping to keep the hurt from your voice. You weren’t expecting him to treat you like this after letting you cry into him, but you assumed you’ve pushed a limit and you not only felt the need to extract yourself from the situation, but also to apologise. “I’m sorry if I made this more uncomfortable than needed.”

The way he stopped pacing when he heard your words and the incredulous look on his face surprised you entirely.

“You think…” He trailed off, hands running through his hair before he continued. “You think you made me uncomfortable?”

You didn’t know what to answer, stuttering, your mind completely confused at the turn of events. Did he think it was the opposite way round?

“I thought I made you uncomfortable,” he huffed out, his pacing resuming once more. Not able to withstand the frenzy with which he behaved, you grabbed the end of his sweater, stopping him before he did another full round.

“Minho, stop. You’re going to wear the floor down, or even worse, your own shoes,” you tried to joke, but the worry in your own eyes spoke of a different feeling. “You never made me uncomfortable, why would you even think that?” You questioned him, your grip on him tightening in case he tried to evade your questions once more. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the slight flicker of uncertainty behind them but you decided to press on. You needed answers, his behaviour an odd occurrence.

“Did I ever give off that feeling?” You tilted your head to the side, observing his reaction.

Not able to believe what he was hearing, Minho’s eyes locked on yours, his brows furrowed. “No, that is stupid,” realising he might have offended you, he was quick to add, “I don’t know, I kept making jokes, and I kept pushing my feelings onto you, thinking that one day they may be reciprocated. Then you go and do something to make me think that they are.”

You could feel your breath catch in your throat at his confession, but the slight pull against your hold told you he was prepared to flee once more.

“Don’t,” you pulled him towards you, not realising the strength with which you did. Instead of him stumbling into you, you managed to pull yourself closer to Minho as he resisted. Closer than before, you could once again smell him, his scent never changing even after hours of practice, he still smelled good to you.

“Don’t what? Get my hopes up? Have feelings for you?” He whispered, his eyes trained on yours before they flickered to your lips. “Because I do. And I can’t do anything about it. It’s been months. I tried to tell myself it’s not useful, that I should be indifferent. And yet, here I am miles away from even reaching that indifference.”

You couldn’t feel the way his heart sped up at the small smile you offered him, but you could see the light in his eyes as you stood up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his.

With a low moan he parted away from you, your slightly parted lips red and bruised from his kiss, breath coming out in pants - you wanted more, and you decided to ask for it.

“Minho,” you called his name sweetly, watching carefully as he opened his eyes, the soft look in them almost making you falter. But the heat in your stomach and the way you could feel the palms of your hands sweating over his sweater pushed you to vocalise your thoughts to him.

“Hm?” His hand still held onto the back of your neck. You shivered in pleasure at the way his thumb subconsciously traced circles around the sensitive point underneath your earlobe.

“If I asked you to fuck me, right here right now in this dance studio, would you do it?” You felt your breath catch in your throat, the courage leaving you as soon as the words left your mouth. His silence was concerning, and for the first time in your life, you felt like burying yourself underneath the earth. Cursing at your own stupidity, you breathed out a sigh. “Ah, look - forget I said anything. Let’s just -”

Minho couldn’t believe his ears, the way you asked him such a filthy question after having kissed him like that, your hands digging into his shoulders, your body moulded onto his made him bashful. He knew what the answer would be, no doubt, but before he gave in to his wishes, he needed to make sure that you knew what you were asking of him.

“You -” he cleared his throat, his voice coming out raspy. “Are you....?”

You knew what he was going to ask. You haven’t dated him, and you weren’t that close, but you knew him well enough to know how considerate he was of others. Despite his teasing persona and tough exterior, he would always make sure that everyone was alright. And of course, this was no exception.

Not allowing him to think too much about it, and not having the courage to speak about it again, you pushed your lips onto his again, your hands burying themselves into his hair. “Shut up and make me scream your name, Lee Minho.”

He didn’t need you to ask him more than once. Fuelled by your demanding tone, Minho gripped your hips tightly pulling you closer to him, his lips pressed onto yours, his tongue seeking the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him to do as he pleased, you pulled at his hair lightly, eliciting a low groan from him. Pulling away, his eyes hooded with desire, he smirked at you making your knees weak.

“If that is what you want,” his fingers dug into your hips before he turned you around to face the mirror, your back to him. Bending you slightly, he made quick work of your pants, pulling them down in one swift movement. “That is what you get.”

Minho didn’t give you any time to respond before he dropped to his knees, his mouth attaching itself to your clothed cunt. Not wasting time, he sucked at the underwear, soaking it through with his saliva as well as your juices before he pulled away.

“You taste so good. I could sit here and eat you forever,” he hummed, his fingers latching onto the side of your panties, pulling them down. The way you moaned and pressed your hips into his hand asking for more made him forgo tasting you for the time being.

Pulling himself up and you against him, he prodded at your entrance with his fingers, one hand tightly on your hip, the other sliding underneath your sweater, cupping your breast.

“So needy... First you ask me to fuck you into oblivion in the dance studio,” Minho grunted, parting your legs slightly with his knee. “A studio everyone will be in tomorrow with no knowledge of what has happened. That is incredibly dirty,” he softly bit into the smooth flesh of your neck, his tongue flicking to lick the area between bites.

You should’ve felt embarrassed for being so wet without him even having entered you, but the way his fingers prodded at your folds, sliding up and down, coating themselves into your slickness wiped all thoughts away. Pushing your hips back against his hand, desperate to feel more of his long slender fingers in you, around you, you mewled when he found your clit.

“You‘re so wet and ready for me, aren’t you, Y/N?” Bending over you, his clothed dick pushing into the soft flesh of your ass, he whispered lowly, as his finger started to circle your nub softly at first, picking up the pace when you prompted him with your ass.

“All this wetness, just from dancing, hm?” He teased, knowing full well it wasn’t the dancing. Feeling his cock twitch at the prospect of his dancing making you this hot, he pushed harder against your ass, the material of his jeans rubbing against his length.

In the process of bending you over and discarding your bottoms, your top had also risen up, allowing you to feel the soft sweater brush against your skin. The sensitive area of your lower back and ass being caressed by it made you shiver craving more of that. “Minho, more,” you moaned, finding it hard to express yourself.

“More what?” He bent over again, the finger circling at your clit relentlessly flicking at it. You could feel the wetness pooling out of you, making a mess of your inner thighs, but you couldn’t worry about it, not when you had a mission.

“Please,” you begged with shaky fingers grabbing at your top, going to pull it off of yourself. The clumsy movement only served to push the material above your breasts, finding it hard to take it off completely without pulling away from Minho’s fingers. Minho paused slightly, his fingers lazily pressing on your clit, the change in movement making you whimper in need.

“Want me to help?” He asked amusedly and you prepared to tell him off for ruining the mood until he pulled his fingers away from your pussy. The room was not well lit as you didn’t turn on the lights, and it was dark enough outside to make it difficult for you to see anything.

Despite that, you could see as clear as day how wet his fingers were, the shine of your slickness making you flush for a second.

“Mmm, look at this,” he scissored his fingers in the air, a string of fluid forming between his fingers as he did so. “Such a naughty girl. You’ve coated my fingers completely,” he drawled, and you watched enthralled as he slowly brought them to his mouth, slipping them in. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, the heat increasing in your abdomen as he pulled the fingers out, his breathy moan as he tasted you on his hand, his lips smacking as if you were the tastiest thing he’s ever had.

“Delicious,” Minho purred, bending over you. You were so focused on him tasting you that you forgot what set you off in the first place. When he bent over and the material of his sweater brushed over you, making your knees buckle, you begged him to touch you again. Your need to feel him against you gripping at your throat.

“Minho,” you breathed, hips circling grinding against his hardened dick. He seemed bigger than before, his tip poking at you through his thick trousers and your toes curled with the knowledge that it was your taste that made him this hard.

“I want you to tell me what you want,” he coaxed, his clean fingers going to unbutton his top. Jerking, you whined your disapproval.

“No, keep it on. I want to feel it,” you blurted, afraid that he would take it off before you could express yourself.

When he paused, his hand hovering over his buttons, you felt the embarrassment wash over you. You were never into sensory play, but there was something about that sweater that made you crave the feeling of it. You wanted to know what it would feel like for it to brush against your back, teasing the sensitive skin there as he fucked you from behind.

It didn’t take long for Minho to catch onto your wishes seeing as he already had an inkling about your preference towards his sweater. He's seen you stare at it multiple times, each time more and more insistent. It was the reason he started wearing it more often, each time more adventurous than the previous one.

At first he wore a top underneath, but as he slowly figured out you were inclined towards him more as he wore it, he wondered if he could push it. The last few times Minho forwent the top, choosing to only wear the sweater buttoned up as a top. He didn’t miss your stares, or the increase in breathing whenever he moved, displaying more of his skin.

He also didn’t miss the way you subconsciously started to touch him more. If he were to admit to himself, you were not wrong, his sweater did feel like heaven over his skin. The warm material brushing over his nipples made him twitch in his pants on more than one occasion. That paired with the brush of your hands on his arm from time to time prompted him to go and relieve himself in the toilets quite often.

“Ah,” Minho sang, smirking at you in the mirror. Gulping, you stilled, wondering what was playing on his mind. “You dirty girl, you want to feel my sweater don’t you?” He asked, his hips pushing into you.

You couldn’t hide it anymore, the heat underneath your skin and your wanton pussy clenching at air made you nod, thrilled at the prospect of having your wishes granted.

Minho never thought he’d be so turned on at the thought, but as soon as you nodded, he felt something shift in him, an animalistic growl leaving his throat. Not in a rush, he looked at you darkly, the smirk not leaving his features.

“I see, well… who am I to not grant you your wishes?” he asked, the hand hovering above your ass falling down onto the skin making it sting. Yelping, you arched your back at the feeling, grinding your hips into his hand as he kneaded the flesh. “First, I need to hear you beg.”

Desperate for his touch, you obeyed, your eyes locked onto his, your flushed face proof of your desires. “Minho please, let me feel you,” you tried, but when he made no move apart from his fingers settling deeper into the flesh of your ass, you grunted again. “Please, I want to feel your sweater touching me as you fuck me hard from behind,” you pleaded – propriety be damned. You let all the cats out of the bag, not feeling in the least ashamed of what you were feeling.

“That is it, no need to say more,” he rasped, your words reaching his cock making him tense. His hands pulled away from your ass, reaching for his belt and unzipping his trousers.

You couldn’t see him in the mirror due to the angle but when you tried to turn around wanting to see him, you felt another sting to your left ass cheek. “No peeking, Y/N, you wanted sensory play, that is all you will be getting today,” Minho warned and you breathed out slowly.

Grabbing your shoulder roughly, he pulled you to him, straightening your back. Not quite touching, he pulled your top, prompting you to lift your arms so he could pull it off you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He panted, his arm wrapping around your front, pulling you flush against him. “Widen your legs.”

You bucked your hips against his crotch, enjoying the way his hardness poked at the sensitive area of your ass. You obeyed him, spreading your legs open, your head leaning back onto his shoulder. Minho’s demanding tone contrasted greatly with the affectionate way his fingers danced along the sensitive skin tracing the pattern of your ribs. You shuddered under his touch, your core throbbing at the teasing and comforting feel of his woollen sweater against your back.

“Minho, that’s it, yes,” you prompted him, arching your back to feel as much of him as you could. His teeth were still nipping at your neck when his hand found your nipple, deft fingers circling it in slow motion making the skin pucker.

“Dirty girl, you like the feel of the sweater don’t you?” He asked, testing his theory by pinching your nipple at the same time as he pressed himself harder into you.

The material roughly rubbed onto your skin with the movement making you shiver. You grabbed onto his wrist tightly pressing yourself further into him. The length of his cock freed from its confines slipped between the two of you, and you could feel its searing temperature on your lower back. Smiling impishly, you decided to taunt him, circling your hips in a slow movement rubbing him between your ass cheeks and his own abdomen.

Hearing Minho’s low moan vibrate in your eardrums as he buried his face in your hair spurred you on, your hips rocking faster, showing him exactly why you loved his sweater so much.

“Ah, look at you rutting so desperately, does that feel good?” You asked, your hand reaching behind you to grip as much of his ass as you could, digging your fingers, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know now, why your sweater drives me so mad whenever you wear it?” You punctuated each word with more friction.

The low groans and the increasing wetness against your ass told you what you needed, but you wanted him to respond. “Minho,” you whispered, your attention on his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched up as if he was concentrating hard, the hand on your breast gripping tightly at the flesh.

Hearing you call his name so sweetly, after you’ve uttered pure filth, got his attention. Struggling to keep his breathing leveled and his mind clear, with your hips still brushing against his dick, Minho found it hard to not come then and there, so he opened his eyes. Looking at you, he could see your whole naked form in the mirror. The way your hips rolled enticingly, your spread legs giving him a full view of your wet mound, he could barely contain himself from shoving himself into you until he bottomed out.

It had been a long time coming – your relationship, the tension between the two of you. With each touch of skin in class, each teasing remark he would throw at you only to be countered immediately.

“Minho, eyes on me,” you said softly, your hips ceasing their movement, your hand slowly sliding away from his ass, dancing above the dip of your belly button before slowly sliding towards your needy clit.

The position you were in made it easy for your middle finger to slide in between your pussy lips, your finger expertly finding your clit. You’ve done this more than you could count, touched yourself, but you’ve never done it in front of anyone, and the thought both excited you and made you nervous at the same time. The slow circles you traced around your nub before you added more pressure shot a jolt of electricity up your spine.

“Ah, so good, Minho,” you didn’t know where that came from, never having uttered his name whilst you were pleasuring yourself, but it seemed to have done the trick.

Hearing you moan his name so wantonly, your hand working shamelessly away at your pussy on your own, your soft warm lips wetly mouthing his name in pleasure even though he was barely touching you, switched something in him. With your feet so lewdly spread open, it was easy for Minho to mannouver you so that he could slip his cock between your folds, the tip reaching where your fingers thrummed at your clit.

The sudden movement jolted you out of your own world, the pleasurable haziness clearing off your mind, and you suddenly realised what you were doing. You couldn’t feel ashamed, he wouldn’t allow you to, the sight you’ve just presented him with was to be engraved in his memory forever.

“Tell me, do you mutter my name whilst you come all over your own fingers, think of me when you’re pleasuring yourself like that?” he murmured languidly, moving his cock between your folds, coating it in your juices. “You’re so wet, you are after all a dirty girl, aren’t you?” He groaned, his hand letting go of your breasts, reaching out to grab his own dick.

His breathing stilled when your hand movement stopped, your heavy breathing being the only thing he could hear in the stillness of the air around you. Wondering if he’d gone too far, he went to let you go but you wouldn’t allow him to, your soft voice calling out to him. “Minho.”

With his attention back on you, you could clearly see in the reflection the way his eyes trailed over every inch of your skin available, the intense gaze only softened by the way he bit his lip softly. “It’s ok to be as rough as you want,” you reassured him, craving the uncouth Minho from a few minutes ago.

Your words gave him the permission that he needed, and within a second, something shifted behind his eyes, a darker look glazing over before he slid himself within you with a powerful thrust. Bottomed out and almost pressed all the way against the mirror, you could only let out a scream of pleasure, your hands fighting to steady yourself.

Minho stilled, fighting hard to not come straight away. Your teasing riled him up enough that he was hard and ready to go. Once your warm walls swallowed his cock, fighting to adjust to his size, squeezing against the intrusion, he felt his cock twitch within you, desperate to pound you senseless.

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well,” Minho praised softly, sliding himself slowly in and out of you, gauging your reactions in the mirror. Your eyes were closed, a silent moan painted on your lips.

“Want me to go faster?” He asked, slapping his hips against yours aggressively. “I want to stay like this forever, fucking you and filling you up with my cum.”

The implications of his own words hit him and he slowed to a lazier pace. Even at that speed, he was still hitting your sensitive area, and you felt the pressure building up in your abdomen.

“Can I come inside?” He asked tentatively, his voice hoarse.

Your mind was far away riddled with pleasure, your words barely coming out in a full sentence. “Minho, fuck, yes, fill me up with your cum,” you groaned, your voice breaking out into a moan when you felt his fingers anchor themselves in the flesh of your hips, his movements frenzied.

He was grunting just as loudly behind you, the material of his top now sticking to his own skin as much as yours, irritating the sensitive area. Snapping his hips frantically, the sound of your skin slapping together reverberated throughout the dance room.

“You like that hm, you like the idea of being filled up with my cum, don’t you?” Minho panted, bending forward. You yelped, hands shooting forward to prevent yourself from falling. His dick pounding into you at a deeper angle made your skin tingle with electricity as he hit the tip of your cervix repeatedly, the pleasure crashing over you in waves.

You didn’t realise when you leaned onto the mirror, the sheen of sweat on your hands making them slip with every thrust of his hips into you. Struggling to keep yourself upright, you arched your back. The movement caused your inner muscles to clench around him, gripping his cock tightly within your velvety walls, breaking the fast paced rhythm. Minho grunted, his need to carry on fucking you into tomorrow overpowering any other thought. Realising you were in a precarious position, close to crumbling onto the floor, he stopped moving, a look of worry crossing over his face.

“Are you ok?” He said, voice breaking from using it so aggressively earlier.

You nodded and spread your legs further apart in an attempt to give yourself more stability. Seeing you struggle Minho grabbed your left hand in his, his other letting go of your hip to encircle your waist. Without a word, he slowly moved you closer to the mirror, his lips peppering soft kisses on the sweaty skin of your shoulder. His dick still being lodged deep into your pussy drew a whimper out of your throat as it slowly pushed further in along with his movements.

“Hold on,” he softly instructed, placing your hand flush against the mirror, holding it in place with his own. The hand around your waist slid further down to your sensitive folds and anchored you on it like a harness. The position left you placing your whole weight on his hand, the pressure of his palm against your inflamed clit sending sparks up your spine, making you dizzy.

“Ah, fuck, Minho,” you croaked while grinding your cunt onto his hand, your slickness coating his wrist dripping down his fingers. From this position, you were completely at his mercy, the only thing that kept you secure was his hold on you.

Minho groaned, your name being the only thing on his lips. The more pressure he put against your clit, the further you leaned into his hand, your smooth warm walls contracting around him.

“You like that, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, thrusting his hips against yours once, eliciting a shuddered breath out of you. “You like being handled as you’re stuffed full of my cock, hm? Look how tightly you’re gripping onto me as if you’re afraid I'd let you go,” he said, his lips ghosting over your sweaty skin, making goosebumps appear with each pointed word.

“Do you want me to move?” He carried on, lazily slipping his length out of your wet folds until only the tip remained in you.

The reflection in the mirror caught his attention. His breath caught in his throat at the view, your slightly bent over body, your hand on the mirror clenched into a fist tightly secured by his larger one, his hand around your midriff covering your mound from view.

The way your eyes were closed, a look of pleasure etched onto your face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, sweaty forehead covered the strands of hair that made it onto your face, lips red and swollen from biting them too much made him pause. Minho could see the way your breasts slightly juggled from the movement of your own hips against his arm

He couldn’t see your pussy or the way it was wrapped around him, but he could feel your wetness on his skin, his entire hand bathed in it, your velvety folds grinding against his palm. If he didn’t want to make you come first, he would have filled you with his cum then and there. You were beautiful, you looked thoroughly fucked, you wanted more, and you were his.

Needing to share this moment, Minho kissed your neck once more, slightly blowing on the overheated skin. “Open your eyes,” he coaxed, his hand on your wrist squeezing lightly to garner your attention. “Dance with yourself in the mirror, Y/N,” he softly instructed. “Look how beautiful you look, all like that, sweaty and lewdly spread like that - and only for me.”

Obeying him, you opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes glazed over with lust, the sight urging the fire underneath your skin. You immediately honed into the way his hips lazily moved, feeling the way he slid in and out of you, deep within your pussy.

The lewd squelching sounds that reverberated through the darkened room paired with the languid kisses he placed on your skin forced your inner walls to spasm in pleasure, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the intimate moment. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge - his movements paired with the way your mound rubbed against his arm drawing your orgasm out of you with a quick thrust of his hips.

“Fuck Minho, I’m going to come. Shit,” your eyes rolled back as your body came undone, your muscles tensing and tremors wrecked through your body from head to toe.

Minho felt you spasm around him, your pussy gripping onto him in a vice like, your wails of pleasure spurring him on. With an unrestrained growl, he tightened his grip on you, the hand on your mound pressed roughly onto your clit bearing down on it to prolong the peak of your orgasm. “You’re already a mess, wetting my dick like that, let yourself go, baby,” he demanded, his hips snapping into you at a rapid pace at the same time as he was watching you fall apart for him in the mirror.

“You’re beautiful like that, coming all over my cock. Shall I make more of a mess of you?” Minho asked, feeling his own dam burst and, with a last deep thrust, he spilled his cum deep into you, painting your walls, claiming you as his. You whined as you felt him come, the strangled noises ripped out of your throat as your sensitive cunt milked him of the last of his drops.

“Let me taste you,” Minho said, his voice hoarse from the high he’s just experienced. You drew in a sharp breath. His unexpected request made you stutter, and you wondered if he realised what he was asking. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you thought you did not hear him well, but when you turned around, your shaky legs forcing you to brace yourself against him for support, his serious expression left you speechless.

“You– you’re serious.”

It wasn’t a question, you were certain he meant it, but you just needed to express your feelings at this brazen statement. Not knowing how to react, you thought about it for a moment, your eyes trailing from his eyes down to his mouth. The moment you imagined his lips on you, sucking on your cunt, drawing out his own cum, you felt yourself getting hotter.

Minho nodded, noticing the way your eyes found his lips, shifting from one foot to another. Smirking to himself, he decided to give you one final push, knowing that if you allowed him this, you would not regret it.

Licking his lips, he breathed out slowly, trying one more time. “Can I clean you up? Look how messy it’s getting,” he pointed to the floor where a small amount of his cum dripped down it. It was only a few drops but the sight of it made you moan, your mind already settled.

“Yes,” you said automatically, taking a step closer to him. “Clean me up, you’ve made a mess, now you need to clean up after yourself, bad boy.”

You weren’t sure where the courage came from. Maybe it was from the way he drew a sharp intake of breath, maybe it was the way his hands immediately found the curvature of your hips, gently massaging the area, or maybe it was the way he dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands trailing to the inside of your thighs.

His deft fingers traced the soft skin, his face was so close to your pussy you could feel his breath on your sensitive nub. “Open your legs wider for me, love,” Minho prompted, his hands guiding you.

You whimpered as the cold air hit your core directly. The initial hesitation you felt being so exposed to his eyes didn’t last long, as he dove straight in with a hungry slurp, his tongue slipping right between your folds. The suddenness of his movement made your knees buckle, a loud moan being ripped out of your throat.

The lewd sounds from his mouth on you loudly echoed in your mind, fuelling the build up pleasure from his tongue lapping at you. You could feel the pressure of his hands onto your thighs, certain that he would leave bruises.

“Ah, Minho.”

He parted from your pussy with one last lick, his tongue flattened brushing your overly sensitive clit making you buckle.

“Steady,” he laughed, his soft voice sending shivers up your spine. He let go of your legs and interlaced his fingers with yours supporting your weight. You didn’t know if you had the courage to look down, instead you tried to catch a glimpse of him in the mirror, but the angle you were both at proved to be an inconvenience.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, so soft and you taste so good,” he dove in for a tentative lick, the tip of his tongue circling your clit. Unable to hold back, your eyes snapped down, his words almost enough to make you come.

“Are you ready, love?” Minho asked, locking eyes with you. His face was shiny and wet from both your juices, but the glint in his eyes told you he was far from done. Barely able to breathe, let alone speak, you threw him an uncertain look, unsure what he meant by asking you that.

“What do you- ahhh!”

Minho had no inhibition, his mouth finding your entrance without a hesitation, prodding at you scooping up his own mess with his tongue all the while massaging your walls. His hands let go of yours and you felt your world shift for a moment before he tightly grabbed your ass, burying himself deeper into your dripping pussy.

He didn’t let you breathe, licking and prodding like a starved man. His tongue traced your lips lightly, applying pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves. Minho was determined to clean all of you out, he prodded you in all the right ways to make you approach your second orgasm.

You felt it building up the moment his tongue slipped into you once more acting as a substitute of his dick earlier, swirling inside of your warmth, tracing the inside of your velvet walls. The familiar feeling of needing to pee crawled up your spine until you felt yourself let go with a loud groan as tears gathered in your eyes from the intensity.

“Shit, I’m coming,” you let your head fall back as your hands found their way into his hair, holding him to you as you rode out your orgasm. The intensity of it almost made your knees fold under you and you would have fallen over if not for his hands holding onto your ass, anchoring you upwards.You felt his tongue languidly lapping at your clit, guiding you through your peak, the warmth travelling all the way down to the tip of your toes.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, his face still buried in your cunt, “give me more of you.” He lapped at your sensitive pussy until he felt you stop spasming, your whine of displeasure telling him you were too sensitive. Savouring your taste, Minho breathed out, his tongue licking your wetness off his lips, the feeling of satisfaction washing over him. He had never imagined you would let go with so little inhibition and the thought made him giddy. He made you come twice.

Out of breath and bodies slick with sweat, you pulled away from him, your eyes already searching for your clothes. The embarrassment of what happened a few seconds before washed over you like a douse of cold water. Having sex with him was one thing, but asking him to go that far and enjoying it so much that you came twice filled you with horror at what he may think of you.

It took him a few seconds to gather his bearings, the aftermath of his orgasm paired with both of your tastes on his tongue made him dizzy and euphoric. As soon as he heard your frenzied shuffle, his eyes wandered over to you, springing up, realising you were about to flee.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He asked cautiously, going to reach out for you. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest at the dejected look you offered him. He didn’t know whether he’d done something wrong or if it was something else. All he knew was that he couldn’t allow you to leave like that. Not when his heart hurt only by seeing the slight quiver of your lips.

“Please, talk to me,” Minho pleaded when you refused to respond. Despite your aversion to vocalise your thoughts, you didn’t make a move to stop him when he engulfed you in his arms.

Regardless of how sweaty and cold you were, you allowed yourself that moment, closing your eyes, you let yourself enjoy the warmth his hug provided, basking in the safety of his arms. For a few moments neither of you spoke — both taking in the feeling of peace that followed after your intense moment. To you, it felt as if being in his arms nothing could reach you, not even the tumultuous conflicted feelings rushing through your mind.

You knew you owed him an explanation, he’d been nothing but considerate towards you, yet, you’ve reacted this brashly without an ounce of regard towards his feelings. Gathering the courage to speak, your head buried into his sweater, the same stupid sweater that started it all, you took a deep breath in allowing his scent to calm down your racing heart.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” you muttered, hands reaching out to grip tightly at the material covering his back. Hearing his sharp inhale, you hurried to apologise thinking you’ve hurt him, only to be shushed gently.

“You don’t have to apologise, please. If anything it’s me who needs to apologise,” Minho countered, his voice caring despite the fear coursing through his body. Had he gone too far?

Unable to believe what you were hearing, you pulled away from him, your eyes scanning his face for any sign of deceit. Meeting his eyes stole your breath. His eyes were clear, albeit a bit sad, but the soft, almost dejected smile he offered you – an attempt to make you feel better, pressed on your heart.

Ashamed of your own doubt towards his feelings, you looked down, your fingers toying with his top. “It’s not just this stupid sweater,” you muttered, closely resembling a petulant child.

Minho looked at you in confusion, before he finally understood what you meant. He tried his best not to laugh, but the ridiculousness of the situation got to him, and he let a snicker escape.

“Wait, you think–” Minho carried on, the sadness he felt at the thought of you rejecting him replaced with utter happiness. “You think, I think, this” he motioned between the two of you, “happened because of a stupid sweater?” He couldn’t help himself, the way you looked at him so offended made you look so endearing he just had to kiss you.

His lips first pressed lightly onto the frown etched onto your forehead, kissing the lines away before they softly peppered your whole face in soft pecks. Pausing right above your lips, his hot breath fanning over your face, Minho whispered softly, “This was never about a sweater, nor was it about fulfilling any fantasies - though I would love to do that for as long as you allow me to,” you couldn’t help but shiver at the implications of his words, “I genuinely like you. But,” he paused to take a sharp intake of breath as if what he was about to tell you next hurt him, “if you don't, and all you want is this physical relationship…”

You were prepared to protest, but he shushed you softly. “Let me just say this before I lose the nerve to. If all you want is a quick fuck, I can also give you that. It would hurt, but I could only hold onto the hope that by being close this way, one day you will see me as more.”

Your heart clenched at hearing his words, you never thought he would put himself down in such a way that he would never assume that you liked him back the way he did.

“Minho,” you said, demanding his attention. Your pointed voice rang loudly in the empty studio, a complete contrast to his own voice.

“Hm?” He asked distractedly, his face was still close to yours, his soft lips ghosting over your own. Without saying a word, you motioned for him to wait. Gulping, you looked down at the sweater he was still wearing, the light sheen of sweat covering his soft skin. Resisting the urge to press your lips to his collarbones, you focused on his buttons, slowly undoing them one by one.

“Woah, Y/N, what-?” he looked at you incredulously, his eyes wide, however, he wasn’t making a move to stop you. Shushing him roughly, you undid the last button, trying your hardest to not revel in the way his skin felt underneath your palms as you pushed it off his shoulders. You had been right, he was not wearing anything underneath it, not even a vest.

Allowing your eyes to soak in what the sweater had been masking all this time, you clenched your fists to your sides, refusing yourself the need to touch him. You were aware that if you did, it was game over.

“What are you doing?” Minho tried again, his heart beating rapidly in his chest at the look you threw him. The fire in your eyes, your hands glued to your sides, lips pursed - you looked beautiful, and if you hadn’t kissed him next, he would’ve without a doubt.

“Shut up,” you said before you pressed your lips to his, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your naked and cold breasts pushed against his warm skin and you both shuddered at the difference in temperature. It took him a moment to gather his bearings and respond, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist pulling you further into him.

As you moulded your bodies and lips together, something shifted between the two of you. As fiery and frenzied as the kiss was, your hands never stayed for too long in one place touching everything you both could, commiting each and every curve to memory. You could almost taste the feelings between the two of you, the connection that was already there but you were both too blind to see it.

Pulling away from him, you finally rested your hands on his chest, enjoying the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat, and knowing it was as rapid as yours made you smile. Finally opening your eyes, you found his already on you, a dazed look on his face.

“Don’t be stupid, as much as I like that sweater,” you laughed at the ridiculousness of this whole situation, “and I would love for us to be physical, I don’t want anything more than I want you, feeling what you are feeling right now for me. I like you too, stupid man with a stupid sweater.”

Even though you knew you wouldn’t be rejected, your heart still stopped waiting for his next answer. The seemingly myriad of emotions crossing his face made you smile, until he settled onto one; the usual cocky one he had when he spoke to you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him, ready to slap him if he dared to say anything inappropriate.

“Minho,” you warned as he pulled you into him again.

He simply laughed before he responded by kissing your forehead lightly. “It’s good that you like me. Because I had 4 more sweaters similar to that one ready to come out and try to woo you.”

Wrapped Up | Lee Minho

Mᴀɪɴ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

More Posts from That-jax and Others

1 year ago

heyyyy ryyyyy <333

since ur requests are open i thought id go ahead and ask if you're mayhaps open to anything for batmom? i don't have a completely solid idea but maybe smn like batmom has been getting threats or maybe hate or smn from somebody and everyone's reactions and how they get hella protective?

obv no pressure and you definitely do not have to write this

hope you have a great day bb

Heyyyyy, so this grew hands and wrote itself, I hope you enjoy it. It did end up with a lot of backstory.

Earned Position

5.3k words

Heyyyy Ryyyyy

You knew this would happen. Once your relationship with Bruce got out there would be an influx of love and hate. You also knew that everyone else knew that as well. It was common knowledge than anyone around a celebrity of sorts would experience that. 

Of course you did the normal things, turned off most notifications and only looked through areas online you knew would mostly be safe. You blocked tags and and only followed people you knew or ones who didn’t post about drama. 

When you did stumble onto hate, you moved on. If someone kept sending you nasty messages you blocked them, when they made other accounts to keep sending the same things, you changed your settings so only those you followed could message you. 

It wasn’t something you wanted to deal with but it was something you could handle. Something you started mentally preparing yourself for when Bruce’s attention on you lasted more than 4 dates, even more so when you caught yourself daydreaming about him.

You were not going to let random bitter people on the internet destroy your happiness like they did their own. Your family however, wanted to destroy what was left of your haters' happiness. Something you were trying to curb, but trying to tell a family of vigilantes who considered you the best mom in existence not to destroy your haters was like talking to a brick wall. Over the years, you had gotten used to it. It barely even registered anymore. But there had been a recent influx of the hate and while it didn’t bother you, it bothered the rest of your family. None of them could stand people talking bad about their mom.

While you hadn’t been there while the older ones were young, the second you had introduced yourself to them, you had taken a very important role in their lives. None of them realizing it at first. All of them had gotten used to the random women Bruce brought home that it took a little while for them to realize how important you were. 

Dick wasn’t sure at first. Thinking you were just another girlfriend that wouldn’t last long. So he didn’t really interact with you much. Ignoring your existence when it wasn’t too rude, or at least obviously rude. Until one night when he was staying at the manor and had a nightmare about his parents death. 

Bruce had an open bed policy. As long as there was still room for him, his bed was open. A policy he had started when Dick had gotten old enough he was worried he wouldn’t be allowed to go when he had a nightmare. Bruce had always reminded all his kids, that nightmares don’t go away just because you’re older and that needing comfort wasn’t something they would outgrow. 

The thing was, you were there. Girlfriends didn’t mind when children did it but they never liked it when his adult kids did it. The shaking in his hands and the way he saw them fall in the darkness of every blink told him the only way he was getting any sleep was with someone. 

Hopefully he could just slip into Bruce’s side and leave before you woke up. That was the plan until he found Damian on Bruce’s side and you had been pulled closer to Bruce taking up what was left. You moved a little and Dick took that as his sign to deal with it himself until he heard you whisper his name. He hummed so you knew it was him and not some random stranger standing over Bruce’s side of the bed. 

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” You lifted the blanket next to you, “Bruce told me you guys come here when you have nightmares. There's plenty of room over here for you.” Dick hesitated for a second before giving in. He needed sleep anyway. You weren’t when you said there was plenty of room, Dick had most of your half of the bed. Once he had settled on his side, facing away from you, he felt you pull the blanket over his shoulders. 

“Night Dick, sleep well.” For some reason, that was what did it. Once the tears started they didn’t stop. Silent sobs made him shudder and he felt one of your hands gently rubbing his back. “Oh Dick.” There was no pity in your tone and he found himself rolling over and curling into you. Your chin resting on his head while you rubbed his back. 

The next day, he followed you around like a puppy. Your side of the bed became his favorite when he had nightmares and it wasn’t long before he turned to you for general comfort over anything.

Jason met you at his grave. Neither of you exchanged words, but he caught something in your gaze he didn’t quite understand. He also wasn’t sure why you were at his grave either, he didn’t know you when he was younger. 

When he saw the Gotham News post about Bruce and Your 2nd anniversary, it brought more questions than answers. Why were you at his grave alone? Let alone longer than a few seconds. It was an odd way to gain more of Bruce’s affections. 

Every Tuesday you would be there, leaving flowers and talking softly to the stone. Every time you left, you would smile and nod, the look in your eyes he couldn’t figure out was still there. Every time he would strain to heat what you were saying and only be able yo a few words here and there. 

6 months into it, the routine changed. You brought a blanket and Basket with your usual flowers. You did what you normally did with the flowers but instead of talking to the stone you waved him over. When he didn’t move, you stopped what you were doing and looked at him. 

“Jason Todd, I have been keeping your secret for 6 months. Helping me spread this blanket and having lunch won’t change it.” He stared at you while you waited expectantly. Eventually when he could get himself to move, he came over and helped. He sat down where you motioned for him too, all while trying to figure out how you knew.

“Bruce mentioned this used to be your favorite when you were younger so I asked Alfred to teach me how to make it. I hope it's up to your standards.” He looked at the plate of food you handed him. It was almost overflowing with food, all of which reminded him of the good times back at the manor before he died. “Alfred also sent your favorite cookies when he heard I would be eating at your grave.” The bag of cookies was placed next to the basket, within easy reach.

“Why?” Was all Jason managed to choke out around the lump in his throat.

“I decided early on in life, no matter who I was with, I would love their family as my own. My grandfather hated my grandmothers side and it caused a lot of pain in all the generations. I decided I would never do that to another family.” Jason found himself back in control enough to start eating. 

“So when I started dating Bruce and he told me about you, I decided to treat you like you were my own. Even though I had never met you and you were dead. Most of what that meant was keeping your grave clean and always making sure there were fresh flowers. While I did that, I would tell you everything that was going on.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your eyes, they may be a different color but they looked too similar. So I did a little digging and found pictures of your biological pictures to place the face shape it matched. I think however you look more like Bruce then either of them.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“As much as I would love to. It’s your choice. You’ve been keeping this to yourself for a reason. If I can help you get to a place to tell them, I would love to. But I won’t say a word until you're ready. However, I would like to keep having lunch with you.” 

A year later, Jason reintroduced himself to the rest of the family a lot calmer than originally planned and was glued to your side anytime he felt overwhelmed that night. Every Tuesday after that, lunch was scheduled.

Tim was nervous when it came to you. He was still living in the manor so he saw you more than the older two. You always seemed nice and respected his privacy but Bruce was always with you so you obviously would. 

It was when he wasn’t around that worried Tim. Bruce attracted golddiggers and they were always mean when Bruce wasn’t there. When you were given a copy of the key, Time braced himself. 

Of course he knew that if he told Bruce anything that happened like that, Bruce would break it off. He had always told them that they came first. But he also knew that Bruce liked you a lot. All the other ones Bruce liked a lot that turned out to be horrible, he broked it off. Tim had seen how it had made him upset and he really hated doing that to him. Maybe he could deal with it for once. 

So when Bruce left for a business trip, Tim was Expecting the worst. What he didn’t expect was for you to knock on his door and ask if you could join him. When he agreed and stepped back so you could come in. He expected you to go to his bed or his desk chair not, the oversized bean bag on the floor.

“I have a question for you but you can’t tell Bruce yet.” Here it comes. “What would a funny way to tell him I know he’s Batman?” Tim wasn’t expecting that one. “I was thinking a lot of batpuns but his paranoia is too bad for that.”

“How did you figure it out?” You walked him through your process and didn’t say anything as he wrote parts of it down. Once you finished explaining the process for Bruce, you explained any way it was modified in figuring out their identities.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Red Robin.” Tim found himself getting excited. 

“You know those notes you leave him in his office?” You nodded. “You should leave those in the Batcave.” You considered it but your thinking was interrupted but Tim shouting. 

“No! One night when we’re all in the cave, you could bring some snacks!” 

“You just want snacks when he’s lecturing you don’t you?”

“Maybe..”

“Alright, but you have to tell the others so they can tell me what snack they want.”

So Tim slowly and carefully went through all his siblings, letting them know you figured it out, Bruce didn’t know, and what the plan is. Every time he relayed a snack to you he’d watch how carefully you’d write it out to make sure you had it correct or look up recipes if you couldn’t find it in stores. 

Two weeks later, Tim was the one who sent the signal in the middle of a lecture everyone was receiving and he got a front row seat to see Bruce’s face when you walked in and handed out snacks before giving him a kiss and telling him to be nice and leaving. 

Any other worries were left in the dust when you helped him win the nerf war for the best seat in the home theater. He thoroughly enjoyed his spot next to you while Bruce swore revenge from the other side of the room.

Damian treated you politely but that was it. His mother was still alive and he didn’t want another one, one was more than enough. Not only that, but you were weird. 

One time when you were over, you found one of his report cards. Immediately you were praising him. He didn’t understand why, he had basically failed one of his classes with an A-. You should be disappointed like his mother would be, not hanging it up on the fridge and telling people not to touch it. Definitely not taking him out for ice cream and calling him so smart. He definitely shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he walked past it, but he still was. 

When he was practicing his violin and Messed up, you were supposed to tell him to stop failing, that he should be better. Not smiling at him and telling him he’s making good progress. You should be telling him that he should have memorized that piece in a day. He shouldn’t be feeling any pride when he finally does memorize it, it took him 4 days to learn it.

When he was struggling to learn a language, you were supposed to tell him to work harder. He could do better, after all, he already knew so many. Instead you just smiled and recommended a break to refresh his mind. 

When he snapped at you in Arabic, he expected you to be upset since you didn’t know what he said and it was obviously not something nice. Instead you set the rule that if he was going to use Arabic to speak to you when upset, that he had to teach it to you and if what he said wasn’t something you had learned yet, he had to tell you in english. When he told you what it meant, you didn’t even get upset. He definitely shouldn’t be as excited as he was when you actually started learning. 

So many more little things piled up, leaving Damian confused. The differences between how you and his mother treated him was so big he didn’t know how to process it, he liked you and all the little things made him happy in a way he hadn’t really felt. But he still loved his mom, When he had enough of it, he asked you to stop. He still wanted to love his mom. Once again, you did something you weren’t supposed to.

“Oh Damian, I’m not trying to replace your mom nor am I trying to make you feel like you can’t love her or she doesn’t love you. Your mom and I show our love in different ways and its ok for you to love or like both of us. You mother loves you and she will always be allowed in your life if thats what you want.” You weren’t supposed to do that, but Damian was really glad you did.

Barbara wasn’t sure how you would react to her. She wasn’t just Bruce’s kid. She had a loving family she went back to every night. Most people weren’t really a fan of that, one of Bruce’s past girlfriends had some strong and hurtful things to say about it. 

When you took her for a day out, she found herself warming up to you but still waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the new places you had planned to go, didn’t have wheelchair access. Like all the other girlfriends who had done this, she expected you to be annoyed that your plans had to change or you would just leave her outside while you shopped. 

You didn’t seem to notice her hesitation, just looking at what was next on your list and starting the trip there. When Barbara stared a little longer at a new movie that was in theaters, tickets and snacks were bought and you listed to all the lore she told you about before it started.

While it had been a nice day, Barbara wasn’t convinced. One day was easy to fake. Sure she had lots of fun, but Barbara was used to fakes when it came to Bruce’s girlfriends. Of course she wasn’t complaining about you being nice, she just wasn’t sure how long it would last. 

“Did you hear about that boutique?” She looked up from her food to look at her dad. “That new one that you tried to go to with Bruce’s girlfriend? Well there was a report that it didn’t meet the Americans with Disabilities act and the boutique is in trouble. People are speculating they’ll have to close down.”

Later that night, Barbara looked into it. They were in trouble, pretty big trouble from the looks of it. Towards the end of the article she found the name of the person who reported it, she wasn’t sure who she was expecting. Not you for sure but the Name Y/n L/n took her by surprise and filled her chest with feelings she couldn’t describe. 

The boutique ended up closing but a new one opened. Once it was open, you were the first to ask her to go. That weird feeling came back when she wheeled herself up the ramp and through the door you held open for her. Later that night, in the privacy of her room. She decided she liked you. 

Steph seemed like she liked you, she acted like she liked you, she didn’t really like you. Sure you were nice, Bruce loved you, the others were warming up to you, but she wasn’t sure how to feel about you. So she stuck with not actually liking you but pretending to. 

So when she was around you, it was all smiles and jokes. She wasn’t a big fan of it all but she did it because she knew you were important to Bruce and that was enough of a reason for her. She knew Bruce and the others could see through the act but as long as you couldn’t, that was enough. 

When Bruce announced he had to leave for a business trip right before she could hand him the parents visit for one of her AP classes, something the new teacher liked doing. She tucked the paper away. When Tim gave her a questioning look, she shook her head and later swore him to silence. 

Every time she heard someone mention their parents were going, she felt a pang of jealousy in her chest. Every time Tim mentioned bringing it up to you, she swore him into silence again. It wouldn’t be the first time no one showed up for her. She was however thankful you wouldn’t be at the manor as much so she didn’t have to pretend to like you.

When the day arrived, Steph was not having a good day. School dragged on slowly. Slower than normal. When school finally ended, she had to sit in the classroom and watch everyone else that was in her class leave and the parents of her classmates show up while no one was there or coming for her.

Someone sat in the seat next to her, she expected another family member of one of her classmates. Definitely not you. She couldn’t return your smile, too unsure of how you found out, the fact you actually showed up, and how she felt about you being there. You leaned a little closer so that the others in the room wouldn’t easily overhear. 

“I know I’m not your parent and someone you just pretend to like so if you want me to leave I will. But I figured someone was better then no one. Oh, and Tim wanted me to tell you he didn’t spill. Your teacher called the manor because no one had RSVPed for you and I answered it.”

That night, as Steph showed off all her hard work to you, the charade fell. She actually enjoyed her time with you and the boost of pride as you oohed and ahhed over all her projects and listened to her explain all the little details. That night, Steph realized, she didn’t need to keep pretending. She liked you, until she found out you didn’t like her favorite show but a nerf war solved that. 

Cass could tell you were different then the other girlfriends, your body language as you interacted with all of them showed it. However that didn’t mean she knew how to interact with you.

She had learned that she was fairly hard for new people to interact with. She also knew she had trouble interacting with people she wasn’t fighting. So it wasn’t a surprise when it started rocky. 

What was a surprise, was when you found out she was still having trouble reading and writing, you stepped in to help. Well, that wasn’t the surprising part, a lot of girlfriends did that. The surprising part was the amount of patience you had when it was only the two of you. 

When one method didn’t help, you tried another. Never once did you snap at her or call her a name. Everytime you got frustrated you would stop and look at her, say something along the lines of “If I had as much trouble with this as you do, I wouldn’t want to keep trying. You're doing absolutely amazing! I’ll keep looking for other ideas, but for now, lets take a break and get a treat.” 

Cass wasn’t sure why that always made her feel better, but it did. Every treat you brought was something you made just for the tutoring sessions and it always reminded her of what Alfred had told her once. “Something made with love for you will always taste better.”

And when a method that made it a little easier to learn was found, Cass found herself smiling along with your cheers. Bad days where she couldn’t seem to make any progress were always met with the same excitement, cheers, patience, and treats that all the others were. 

Cass still wasn’t sure of what to think of you exactly, but she knew she liked you and that you cared about her.

So when Tim saw the new rise in hate, a sibling meeting was called. They all went through each site, blood boiling as they saw what people were saying about their new parent. Plans were made, declarations of war were ready, and anger fueled all of them. Bruce could tell something was going on, but he wasn’t sure what it was and as long as it didn’t get out of had, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy to deal with it. 

War was declared in an interview by Steph. The lady was asking questions when the topic switched to Bruce, then you. The reporter was clearly trying to subtly find some dirt on you and Steph was not going to stand for it.

“Oh yeah! Y/n! She’s the best!” She put on her best press face. Trying to hide her anger over the hidden intent. She didn’t have to lie or act when talking about you but the change in the lady’s face going to disappointment when she didn’t get anything she wanted was making her look very punchable. 

“She’s always showing up for us and making sure we’re doing ok. If Y/n and Bruce were to break up, I think most of us would go with Y/n.” The way the lady kept trying to get anything really got on her nerves and Steph decided she needed to get out of there before she started using the lady’s face for target practice. You wouldn’t like that.

Cass was the first one to resort to violence. They had asked a thinly veiled question, basically asking if you were a golddigger. So she punched him in the nose and leaned down to flip the camera off. She hated interviews already but that made it so much worse. She hoped you wouldn’t be too upset with her punching the guy though.

Jason, surprisingly enough. Did not get violent… physically. He did however curse one out and threaten him when the reporter implied you were forcing them to say nice things. When the reporter kept pressing Jason broke his mic and told him if he ever heard him talking bad about you again, a broken mic would be the last of his worries. Jason knew you would be disappointed but he had held back, he didn’t shoot the guy like he wanted.

Tim threw his coffee at one reporter because he heard them say you were nothing but a regular person who didn’t deserve any attention. He then took over her segment, threatening the company to air it or he would make sure they went bankrupt. Once he finished his threats, anything he said was praising you name. Telling everyone how amazing you were and how much they all loved you.

Barbara made it a point to bring up everything you did for the community when they tried to throw some shade at you in an interview. She had documents to prove it and hacked their systems to add them into the interview so they couldn’t claim it was fake. She also made sure to run over his foot when she left. 

Dick punched a reporter when they tried to ask him what you were really like behind closed doors. He told them the truth, that you were just as good, kind, patient, and loving behind closed doors as you were out in public. He didn’t throw a punch until the reporter disregarded that as asked again because she couldn’t be that good. Dick knew a lecture would be coming once you saw, but he would rather sit through a lecture then let anyone tarnish your name.

Damian spent 10 minutes cursing and threatening a reporter in Arabic when they asked him if you had ever hurt him. When he was done, he told them in english, that if he ever got asked that question again, he would impale them. He knew you were going to make him sit down and translate everything and the general response you would give but he didn’t care, no one speaks bad about either of his mothers.

Bruce figured out what was going on after Steph’s interview. He saw the ones where they assaulted or threatened the reporters and made sure his lawyers were on standby to keep the kids out of trouble. After all, he had seen more than they had. 

He had watched as you tried to connect with Dick early on, how you worked hard to try and get somewhere. He had woken up before you when Dick had come in that night and heard how you handled it. He had woken up the next morning to find you holding Dick close, like you were trying to protect him from the nightmares. He had seen how you never turned Dick down when he wanted comfort, no matter how serious or silly the matter, and he had heard your excitement when you told him Dick liked you.

Bruce had seen the way you never missed a visit to Jason’s grave, on a visit of his own, he saw how much care you showed the stone marking it as his lost son. While he hadn’t been sure why it was alway the same time on Tuesday, he didn;t mention it. He felt the way you would sob in his arms after each visit, a year after the tradition started, you always said you had promised not to tell and he watched as you kept that promise even if it tore you to pieces. Once the shock and tears wore off for a little bit, he could see the trust that Jason had in you.

He heard the way you questioned if you should have a key to the manor, you didn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable in his own home, or how you questioned if you should visit while he was gone. Not wanting to stress Tim out when there was no reason too. He saw the way you and Tim grinned at each other when you brought snacks down for all the kids he was currently lecturing. He head the excitement in your voice as you told him about the tour Tim had given you of the Batcave and the shared laughter as you and Tim worked together to win the nerf war.

Bruce saw how you worked to give Damian the affection he didn’t think he needed. He felt you crying in his arms upset over the fact Damian thought you would be angry because he made a mistake or struggled in a class. He heard you practicing your Arabic as you got ready for bed and he watched as you stress paced over whether or not you said the right thing to him about his mother. 

He saw how angry you had been when you came back from your day out with Barbara. He had heard your call with your lawyer as you tried to figure out what to do. He saw you going through the laws and making a list to make sure your lawyer didn’t miss any. He heard about the movie you didn’t particularly care about and the lore you remembered in case of another because you wanted Barbara to have someone she could tell all of her favorite things too. 

Bruce saw the pictures you had taken from the school night. He heard all the details from you as you praised Steph’s work. He saw the way Steph stopped acting around you and the silly arguments the two of you would get into for fun. He heard the way you would listen to her as she verbally worked out her problems. He saw the way Steph looked for you in a crowd, the way she knew you were there but not where you stood exactly, the thought of you not being there never crossed her. 

He saw the way you stayed up late, researching different ways to teach reading and writing. He heard the patience and kindness and you worked with Cass. He saw the way you always made a treat just for Cass to have after each lesson because you wanted to reward her hard work. He heard the way you cried for Cass when she had a bad day and got frustrated with herself because you knew she was smart and you wanted her to see it too. He heard your celebrations when Cass made any progress, no matter the size. 

Bruce heard, saw, and felt the way you worked hard to have a relationship with his kids. How you had mourned for their losses, celebrated their wins, and felt their pain. He saw the way his kids blossomed under your care, growing to be better and more confident in themselves. The way you cared for them as if they were your own flesh and blood. So when he was asked about his kids behavior, he said as much. 

“Y/n has worked hard to be accepted by them. She’s given so much of her time, effort, patience, and love and never wanted anything in return. She always shows up for them, no matter what the occasion is, big or small, it doesn’t matter. If they want her there, she’ll be there. Everytime they need or want her, she’s there. She never judges them and treats them as if they were her own blood. Of course their upset and lashing out, people are insulting the woman who has cared for them more then most of their biological mothers.”

Later, a clip of you scolding Bruce and all the kids went viral. While you were scolding them over their behavior and making the kids who had reacted with violence or threats write apology letters because asking mean questions does not make it right to respond badly especially when its someone just trying to start drama. Everyone one noticed that there was no actual bite to your tone and no anger when they all refused to stop acting like that. In fact, there was a small soft smile on your face as you shook your head at your family.

5 years ago
Beyond This, Consider How These Professions Might Vary Depending On Who The Customers Are - Nobles, Or

Beyond this, consider how these professions might vary depending on who the customers are - nobles, or lower class. Are they good at their job or just scraping by? Do they work with lots of other people or on their own? City or village?

For younger characters:

Apprentice to any of the above

Messenger/runner

Page/squire

Pickpocket

Shop assistant

Student

Looks after younger siblings

(Images all from Wikimedia Commons)

3 years ago
The Dugout Reacting To Jo Adell’s Grand Slam♥️
The Dugout Reacting To Jo Adell’s Grand Slam♥️
The Dugout Reacting To Jo Adell’s Grand Slam♥️

The dugout reacting to Jo Adell’s grand slam♥️

3 years ago
I'm The One

I'm The One

prince!hongjoong x reader

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive

word count: ~24k

synopsis: In the Kingdom of Wonderland, Prince Hongjoong is holding a Selection: 30 eligible candidates from the kingdom competing against each other, one of which would be his wife and the future princess. You, however, aren't one of the candidates, you're only translator to your best friend Arin, which means you get to talk to the prince directly. In an effort to remain in the shadows and pass unseen, Hongjoong only seems to notice you, and he can't help but think you're the one.

I'm The One

You never imagined that you'd one day get to step inside the Palace itself, let alone live in there and get to interact with the Prince, the King and the Queen.

As your friend Arin shook you back and forth with disbelief and excitement in her eyes, it took you a moment to comprehend the situation, and soon you were responding with equal enthusiasm, jumping up and down in circles as Arin yelled loudly about how if this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

You laughed, finally hugging her, so happy for your friend. "It's not a dream. Want me to slap you and confirm it?"

"Hell yes!" Arin grinned, her mother shushing her, telling her to act 'ladylike' because she'd be needing that now that she was one of the candidates for the future Princess and Queen of Wonderland.

The Kingdom of Wonderland was in dire need of a distraction- with the unison of two kingdoms into one- Wonderland and Utopia- just a decade ago, the initial happiness and celebrations had long since died down, the people beginning to question the wisdom of the decision, the previous residents of Utopia feeling less favoured since the kingdom was still called Wonderland, rebels growing because there was still discrimination between the Utopians and Wonderers.

Though the King and Queen had long struggled for equality among the residents of the two kingdoms, there had of course been discrimination from both the sides- bound to happen at one point, but the people were now frustrated and rebelling against the royals, because who better to blame?

So the King and Queen had decided to distract the people- to give them something to look forward to, a possible strengthening of the residents of the previously divided kingdoms- the distraction being holding a Selection- an opportunity for random girls to be selected if they met the requirements, which were basic enough (mostly age and specialties)- through which they would stay at the palace and compete for the heart of Prince Hongjoong.

And you were happy for Arin- she was selected to be one of those candidates for Prince Hongjoong along with 29 other girls, which meant that she had a good chance at becoming the future Princess of Wonderland. The only reason you were going to be tagging along was because Arin was bad at Korean- having been raised in an English household, so you were going to be her translator as she learned Korean. This was a drawback, and when Arin finally let you go to hug her parents, you wondered why she was selected- the King and Queen or the Prince, or whoever it was that sorted through the thousands of the girls to select 30 must have seen something special in Arin despite this very large language barrier.

Which meant Arin was special, and you, as her translator and teacher, were going to make sure she would have no problem and would learn Korean soon, for her sake and the Prince's.

Arin's parents told you to stay for dinner to celebrate, and you could barely hold in your smile through the hour, the phone ringing nonstop as Arin's relatives and friends congratulated the lucky girl and her parents, the neighbours stopping by to join the celebration as well, and you kindly excused yourself, saying you needed to prepare everything since you'd be leaving for the capital soon.

"I'm glad you'll be with me- I can trust you with anything," Arin told you as she hugged you.

"Thank you, Arin. I'm just glad for you, truly," you smiled earnestly at her.

Arin and you had met a few months ago when they had moved from Mist Island to the countryside. You were her neighbour, and when Arin realized you spoke fluent English, she immediately announced you her friend, and you had no objection to it- Arin was as sweet as one could be. She looked and felt like literal sunshine, her light blonde hair just adding to her bright personality. You smiled to yourself- she would truly make a great Princess, and you hoped it would happen.

Arin called you as soon as you stepped inside your house, informing you that the people from the Palace would come in two days time to inform Arin about all the rules and regulations that followed this process, as well as process your own application as Arin's personal translator who would be accompanying her basically everywhere she went along with the Prince- unless she wouldn't need you anymore or the Prince dismissed you.

You supposed that would happen sometime too, but you couldn't help but feel awkward about all of this- you would have to tread very, very carefully. You were going to appear nothing more than a shadow, only stepping in when you were needed, and pretending to be the walls or the trees whenever you were following Arin. No one could notice you.

As you picked the books out of the shelf, a picture slipped in from one of your books, and you bent down to pick it up, smiling when you saw that it was the only photo of the Prince that you had, in which he must have been around 10, where your parents had made you stand with the Prince as they clicked the photo, both of you with scowls on your faces.

Prince Hongjoong... He was an interesting character. He had great leadership skills, was great with speeches, didn't seem stiff. He was a natural, and people admired him for that. Girls swooned over his charisma and boys wished they were him. The fact that you would be seeing the Prince in a week... it meant so much to you, since the fact that your parents had served in the castle and had been on good terms with the Queen and the Prince, and had always wanted you to meet the Prince- properly. Not when you two were sticking out tongues at each other from afar.

You wished your parents were alive to witness this- you, finally meeting the Prince, though you laughed at the thought that if your mother was alive, she would have made you enter the Selection itself, just like any other mother of a daughter in this kingdom. You looked at the side, at the frame that contained the family picture, and picked it, slipping it inside the bag, then hesitating before slipping the photo of Hongjoong inside too.

One week. Your life would change.

You fell asleep wondering what the Palace was like and what the Prince was like.

---------------------

"Do I look horrible?" Arin asked you for the 15th time.

"If you ask me again, I'm going to say yes, and then you can start crying," you were pinching the bridge of your nose now, "For the hundredth time, Arin, you look beautiful. Happy?"

Arin grinned, making you grin back- you couldn't help it. She really did look beautiful in her cream coloured gown, diamantes at the neckline, her blue eyes brighter than ever. She had never looked better- the ladies at the parlour had polished and enhanced her natural beauty, not overdoing the makeup and keeping everything simple and elegant, just like Arin wanted.

"Alright, get your sleep- you look like you're gonna faint."

"I will," you pouted, closing your eyes shut.

It had been one hell of a week- two days from when Arin was selected, an official had visited, explaining the guidelines- you, as the translator, had explained everything- the guidelines being a set of rules she had to follow.

"You are now considered the property of Wonderland. You must take care of your body. You have to fill the several forms explaining the guidelines- any failure to comply on your part will result in your immediate removal from the Selection"

It started with you explaining the long list of rules, the official translator present making sure you were doing a good job, rules that informed her that the Selection could stretch as much as years but considering that it was Prince Hongjoong, it would last a few months only, that Arin could not leave the palace of her own accord once she arrives, that she would have to be dismissed by the Prince herself, not even the king or queen could force her out, though they could tell the prince that they did not approve of you, that the prince himself would arrange for her meetings and not her, that she could not stress or steal from other candidates, that romantic relationship with anyone else from now until the end of the Selection would be considered treason and would be punishable by death.

Though you were feeling weirded out by the set of strict rules, it looked like it made absolute sense to Arin seeing how her eyes were set and gleaming as she fiercely nodded along. You contained the urge to squeeze her cheeks at that. You just hoped she understood that it wouldn't be too easy.

You had three hours session with Arin each day- but they weren't very fruitful, especially when Arin was as excited as you'd ever seen someone ever, and you both couldn't help but forget all about teaching and learning Korean and instead memorizing the names of all the other participants and guessing who'd be nice, who'd had a chance, who'd get eliminated first, and having a good giggle over it. You supposed Arin needed these giggling sessions more, considering how stressed she must be because the weight of this was huge as well.

Today, the two of you had been accompanied to the airport after a teary goodbye to Arin's parents and annoying little brother who was just glad he had 'one more room to himself'. After reaching the capital where Arin greeted the crowd and even stopped to sign some autographs and take photos, you both were taken to the parlour first where even you were scrubbed and polished- literally. You told them it made no sense that you had to go through this torture as well, but the ladies just hushed you, saying that you had to look 'refined' since you would be making appearances literally everywhere too, and you realized it did make sense.

You were dressed in a comfortable deep blue suit, thanking heavens because they told you no dresses for you (unless the occasion called for it) to differentiate between the candidates and you, and you couldn't be happier. You wanted to feel sorry for Arin who would be wearing dresses and heels from now, but she looked so beautiful and happy that you realized she didn't need your pity at all- she was living her best life.

"You're smiling," Arin whispered in your ear and you opened one eye to glare at her.

"I'm smiling because I'm not the one in a dress and high heels right now," you told her.

The other two girls that were in your limo on your way to the palace were watching you both interact in English silently- not many in this kingdom spoke the language. But you had, in the beginning when you all sat inside the car, introduced Arin to them, and they had asked you if it would be tough for Arin to communicate with the Prince and if you though that could cause the elimination sooner, and you assured them that Arin was a quick learner and would be able to communicate without your help soon, which wiped the growing smirks on their faces.

You supposed it was going to be competitive- very, in fact. Some fought for the crown, and some fought for the Prince. Arin would be one of the few who genuinely liked the Prince. You hoped the Prince wasn't foolish enough to not notice that.

When you arrived inside the palace, you couldn't help but wow, the surprise echoed from the other girls in the car. The palace was a beautiful structure of coloured glass windows and deep brown rock, a vintage vibe to it even if it was built to be modern. The gardens with the greenest grass you'd ever seen was adorned with flowers of various colours and fountains every few feet.

As you got off the car, you were accompanied inside to the waiting room, the other girls already there, and Arin nervously fidgeted with her hands, biting her lips.

"You'll ruin your lipstick," you patted her shoulders, "You're probably not meeting the Prince right away, so relax."

"Doesn't make me less nervous," Arin laughed a bit, and you smiled hoping it would assure her.

The doors opened and an aged woman entered, glancing at each one of the candidates, and you stepped a bit behind Arin, the woman nodding at you and acknowledging you.

"My name is Sophie, and I will be your guide, watching over your progress and your lessons as you spend time in the palace. Please accompany me to the dining hall- I'm sure you all are famished. We can have a chat over tea, after dinner."

The girls erupted in satisfied sighs, you quickly summing up what Sophie had just said to Arin, and she smiled, the two of you moving along with the rest of the selected to the hall.

The dining hall was one generous hall, with food of every kind and desserts of every shape, making your stomach swoop. You had to remind yourself that you were only here because of Arin, smiling to yourself because you had to thank Arin. After all, when could you have had this opportunity to have so much food to select from!

"I know we're thinking the same thing," Arin laughed as she told you to sit beside her, and you did, figuring it would be easier to keep up with the conversation and translating it for Arin.

The girl next to Arin- Byeol, you recalled from the list of selected you had memorized- said hello, and Arin said hello back, asking how she was. The girl peeked forward to say hello to you too.

"Where are you from?" She asked Arin.

"From Mist Island. My mother... English. My Korean not good right now."

You patted Arin's back in encouragement- she had done well.

"Isn't it hard to be here? How will you even interact with the Prince?"

"It won't be too hard," you butted in with a polite smile, "Arin is able to understand better than she can speak, and I'm sure she'll catch up in no time. She's a quick learner."

"I hope so," Byeol let out a nervous laugh, "I mean, the competition's tough as it is. Wouldn't want her out because of language barrier."

"There are worst reasons to be kicked out," you smiled, hoping she'd get your point. You quickly summed what happened to Arin, who nodded in agreement, and Byeol only shook her head and smiled, as if she had the upper hand here.

Though Arin, being the epitome of kindness, didn't mind anyone's attitude one bit, you wanted to smear the chocolate pastry Byeol was eating all over her face. How dare she think she had the upper hand just because she was a native speaker!

You decided to do the observing as well as you ate, taking in the girls. It was so easy to figure them out, except the few that looked mysterious. You knew that as soon as they would get the first look at the prince, you'd realize if they were here for the prince or the crown.

After the dinner where you definitely did not hold back, Sophie got up from the main seat, clearing her throat and going in a speech of why the girls who were selected all possessed a worthy quality that had the king and queen vouching for them, and that they were to prove themselves in more ways now that they were here, and learn the ways of a lady who one day might bear the crown.

After the very long speech which you translated as she spoke, the girls clicked their glasses and had a drink, after which they left for the night. One guard stationed to accompany each girl stood and you bowed to your guard in greeting. He escorted you two to Arin's room, where three maids waited to attend to Arin, and the guard told you that your room was right next to Arin's, so she could call you whenever she needed. You thanked him, going into Arin's room first.

You helped her settle in with the maids- Sana, Momo and Mina, all very cute young girls, gushing about how they were so happy that they were assigned to Arin since she seemed like she was the sweetest of them all, and you assured them that Arin definitely was. They told you that language wouldn't be much barrier here since Mina knew basic English thanks to her lineage, and you sighed in relief, excusing yourself when Arin threatened to kick you out because 'I have this under control, go rest! We have a big day tomorrow!'

You took a deep breath as you entered your room- as big as Arin's but pretty much empty. Your bag was already placed at the edge of the bed and as you walked to it, you realized you didn't even have the energy to change anymore. You washed your face after taking off your coat, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Your parents had spent most of their life in the palace, you raised by your grandmother who lived in the town near. You'd visited the palace as a kid quite a few times, playing with the other children, but you'd never seen the Prince close enough. You, as a kid, wondered just why he couldn't simply play with kids his age.

As you sat on the bed, you suddenly missed your parents immensely. If they were alive, you would have been in their room in the palace right now. Feeling an ache in your chest that was only growing, you got up, drinking a glass of water, but when that ache didn't settle, you decided to get some air.

There was a guard stationed between the distance of your and Arin's room, closer to Arin's, and you informed him that you were going to the gardens to get some air. Since you weren't one of the selected, you had the freedom to roam around the castle (as much as a visitor could) and go outside whenever you wanted, as long as the guards allowed it.

You almost rushed outside, sighing in relief when you breathed in the fresh air- the air truly was different here. You walked around, recognizing the familiar fountains from your childhood, recalling that you used to mark the fountains as a kid as a 'proof' that you had been here.

Smiling to yourself, you bent down and looked under the basin, spotting the scratches- an eight pointed star. You went to the next fountain, and the next, your smile growing bigger as you found all those stars.

"Looking for something?"

You were glad your reflex action wasn't a scream like Arin's, just a jerk, and you immediately straightened to look at the source of the sound-

You struggled to keep your scream in.

It was none other than the Prince standing in front of you.

"Your Highness," you immediately bowed, cursing internally at your state- one too many buttons undone casually, sleeves rolled up, your feet in pink slippers.

"And you are? I'm sorry, I can't recall all the names of the girls right now-"

"Oh no, I'm not one of the Selected," you said and the prince raised his brow, "I'm one of the girls' translator- if you recall."

"Oh," Prince Hongjoong nodded, smiling, "I hope you find the palace comfortable."

"Of course," you smiled, standing awkwardly, not knowing what to do, taking a moment to scan him- his silver hair shining with a slight pink tint, his posture good and straight and you mirrored it automatically, and it looked like he was still in his uniform.

"So, what were you looking for?" Prince Hongjoong smiled.

"Nothing- it's... embarrassing," you laughed a bit.

"I once lost my father's ring in the garden and spent the whole night looking for it myself, telling the guards to warn me if he came. Nothing could be worse than that."

You couldn't help but laugh at that- the Prince wasn't as uptight as he had seemed to you- he was joking around so freely. You supposed he had a similar nature as Arin's.

"I used to visit the palace when I was young, my parents served here," you admitted, "The kids and I played around here, so I'd leave some marks on the fountains every time I visited."

"Oh," Prince Hongjoong's eyes flashed for a brief moment, "And where are your parents now? I'm sure I've met them."

"You have," you nodded, smiling sadly as you looked at the moon- a half-moon, "They passed away in the rebel attack 2 years ago."

The Prince's face fell, and he took a deep breath, "We lost many loyal subjects that night. I'm sure they're in a better place now, and are watching over you and are proud."

"Thank you for your kind words," you smiled.

"So what's the mark?"

"The mark? Oh-" you realized, bending down again and pointing, "Eight-pointed star."

"Eight-pointed star?" Prince Hongjoong bent down as well, examining the scratch, "And you marked most of the fountains?"

"Uh, I may just be realizing that I damaged the king's property..."

Prince Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed, "Kids do most of that, though we'd have to look into it if we catch you scratching another star on one of the fountains," he winked at you.

Once again, silence fell as the two of you stood side by side, watching the water in the fountain. It was you who decided to break the silence.

"If you don't mind me asking... how do you feel about meeting 30 potential candidates tomorrow?"

"I'm very stressed, actually, which is why I came here to take a breather," Hongjoong admitted.

"Oh, I should leave then-"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm glad to talk to someone who is not my mother or father right now," he laughed awkwardly, "Actually, it's pretty intimidating. The girls will be expecting something from me during their course of stay, but I'm not sure I can give them anything."

"You realize you are not required to, right?"

"I know," he nodded, "I would just feel bad if they leave broken hearted. I'd feel like an ass."

You let out a short laugh, the Prince joining. "Well, the girls... they're new to this too. They're all pretty excited. You don't have to figure them all out right away. Take your time, roll along... you'll find yourself used to it soon, I hope."

"Thank you," Prince Hongjoong smiled at you, "And what about the girl you'll be translating for?"

"I'm probably biased when I say this but Arin is the sweetest of them all," you smiled, "I've known her for long now. She's the kindest soul, wouldn't hurt an ant if she could manage it, but she's also very strong. She knows where she stands. I'll do my best with the language barrier, but... I feel like you'll click with her well."

"You look like you admire her," he said, and you nodded, "I guess if I click with her, language wouldn't feel like a barrier anymore."

"Exactly what I mean," you grinned at him, forgetting for a moment that he was the Prince and not your friend, until you found him scanning your face.

"I should go," you said, "I just needed some air, and the guards were kind enough to allow it."

"You can come here whenever you like, I'll let the guards know," the Prince said, and your heart swelled in gratitude.

"Good luck for tomorrow," you smiled, "Whatever your decision, I hope you'll end up being happy."

"Thank you, truly," the Prince nodded in acknowledgement when you bowed before beginning to leave.

"I never got your name!"

You turned, laughing a bit at how he'd shouted this after you were a good few feet gone. You told him your name, waving at him before leaving with a smile plastered on your face.

-------------------

You told Arin all about how you accidentally met Prince Hongjoong before any of the girls, and Arin was all squeals and laughter, the maids struggling to make her stay in place as they did her hair.

"How is he like? Is he as handsome as he looks in the pictures? Does the new hair suit him?"

You rolled your eyes- Arin was literally the Prince's fangirl. It truly was a dream come true for her to even be in the proximity of the Prince, let alone be a candidate for his future wife. "I guess the hair suits him- it sort of looks pink with the light."

"Every hair colour suits him," Mina sighed happily, "But I'd personally love it if he goes back to his natural hair colour."

You nodded- the Prince was blessed in that department.

"So? Is he more handsome or more pretty?"

"I don't know," you shifted, looking in the mirror as you fixed your tie, "He seems to be both? I don't know how he manages that. But Arin, please remember what I told you before we came here, okay?"

Arin saluted, smiling. You'd had a nice talk with Arin the night before you'd arrive here, where you'd make sure that Arin understood that being a fan of the Prince was a separate matter, that she had to be completely unbiased now that she was here. Her responsibility would be that of a crown and a princess, and she had to keep in mind that.

"But what if I don't... like him like that?" Arin had asked you.

"I think not everyone is gonna like him like that in the first place," you had assured her, "And I'm sure the Prince would know that. I think you should tell the Prince if you think you won't be happy with him."

"All done!" Mina announced, and Arin got up from her chair, twirling in the deep blue gown that made her eyes look the brightest blue, her curls pinned with pearls and falling like a waterfall down her back.

The guard knocked on the door, announcing that it was time to go, and Arin squeezed your hand once before the two of you went outside, waving goodbye and thanking the maids, who wished Arin best luck. You were led to the Women's Room, where one by one the girls entered, all dressed in beautiful gowns that they couldn't stop touching nervously, and as you stood back and watched them, you realized that though they knew they were each other's competition, they also felt a kind of sisterhood, especially when they tucked someone's stray hair behind or wiped smudged makeup off each other-

"Ugh, why am I the only one wearing pink here?" One of the girls- Nara, who had to be the visually most attractive one present here, huffed as she looked at the other girls' dresses.

Of course there were girls like her too here. You smiled inside- she would get used to it soon, you hoped.

The room immediately quietened when Prince Hongjoong entered, all regal with his slicked back hair and navy blue suit, the girls all curtsying while he smiled, Sophie standing right beside him.

"Good morning, ladies."

The air immediately felt different, the girls now straightening and arranging themselves. The Prince smiled, "I'd like to introduce myself to you all, so if you don't mind, one at a time I will be calling you. I won't take much of your time- do forgive me if I'm a little slow with names."

As he said that, he surveyed the room once, his eyes landing on you and his smile getting wider- you weren't expecting that so you just smiled back, hoping no one else had noticed.

The girls giggled and grinned, waiting by the couch on Sophie's instructions, one by one moving to the Prince who stood by the window with a drink, what seemed like casual conversation flowing between them. It only lasted for a few minutes each with the girls returning with nervous smiles.

"I wonder what he's asking," Arin fidgeted.

"Maybe he's just wondering what's your favourite food," you scoffed, making her laugh a bit.

Before you knew it, it was Arin's turn, and she squeezed your hand before the two of you went to where he stood, Arin saying hello with a smile, you doing the same and standing beside Arin.

"Arin? You look lovely today."

You knew Arin understood that, and she bowed a bit, replying with a thanks. Prince Hongjoong smiled, "I heard you're English. I know a bit of it."

You translated that to Arin, and she replied in Korean, "Really?"

The Prince nodded, "Where are you from?"

"Mist Island, my parents had an English lineage, we moved to this kingdom before I was born."

The Prince looked at you and you translated that for him as he nodded, "Mist Island is beautiful. I've only been there once when I was little, but I hope to visit again. Maybe you could show me around."

Arin noticed the flirtatious smile on his lips as you translated that, and she beamed, "It would be an honour to show you around my home town."

"But you live in the countryside now, right?"

As you translated that for Arin and she nodded, you realized the Prince had done his own research as well- probably on every girl.

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Arin. I hope we can get along well despite this obstacle."

Arin got that, bowing to the Prince and you did the same, finding his eyes beaming as he looked at you. "You're doing a good job. I hope you find the palace comfortable."

"I do," you assured him with a thanks.

"I didn't get to say this last night, but," Hongjoong sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, "If you wish to visit your parents' room or anything like that, you can talk to Sophie. I've already talked to her."

You were surprised- was the Prince this generous or was this an exception? You shook the thoughts off, thanking him for his kindness and he told you both to join the girls in the dining hall after he announces what's next.

As you both went back, you told Arin what he had just said, who only sighed happily, saying something about how generous he was and how he was a born Prince. You shook your head, smiling as you reached the others, Arin immediately surrounded by the girls who asked what they talked about, and Arin told them in broken Korean, the girls laughing and correcting her mistakes.

Prince Hongjoong walked to the center of the room, clearing his throat, "If I have asked you to move to the dining hall, please follow Sophie out, the rest of you can stay here."

The girls looked at each other in nervousness, most of them following Sophie out, you and Arin along with them, and as you entered the hall, the King and Queen greeted the girls, everyone including you curtsying before taking their seats and digging into the food.

"I wonder why he asked some of them to stay," the girl beside you, Nayoung, said, "Did they do something good? Maybe he wants extra time with them."

"No idea," you muttered, "He wouldn't eliminate someone so soon, would he?"

Nayoung looked at you, "I doubt he would."

But he did. Just like that, 22 girls remained out of 30. And you wondered if Arin really had caught his attention or if he was just giving her a second chance because of the language barrier.

The next morning at breakfast table, everyone thought so as well. Why Arin was kept, why girls like Nora or Nayeon were eliminated, who clearly looked like they had potential. The girls ate nervously, all except Arin, and you had to keep yourself from laughing as Arin moaned after each bite of chicken. Prince Hongjoong sat at the end of the table, watching Arin with amusement in his eyes.

"Lady Arin? Enjoying the food?"

Arin almost dropped her fork, looking at you and you translated.

"Food delicious, but cake-" Arin waved at the dozens of pastries and sweets, "I make better."

The table erupted into laughter and Prince Hongjoong straightened. "Really? Is that a challenge?"

You laughed as you translated, and Arin nodded enthusiastically, the Prince looking at you as if to ask you if Arin was joking or not.

"Arin is an exceptional baker," you were beaming proudly as you announced, "And she accepts the challenge."

"Well," Prince Hongjoong, "I guess I'll have to arrange for a date in the kitchens- mother would be the most happy to learn I'll be stepping in there!"

Everyone looked at Arin in awe for securing her first date with the Prince, and as you conveyed that, Arin smiled and bowed her head a bit in acknowledgement. You felt proud at that moment- a very sisterly pride as you grinned at Arin. She had done it!

The Prince told you both after the breakfast that he would arrange for a suitable time and let you know, and by the time he left, you and Arin were practically jumping up and down, in a very unladylike manner- for Arin. Sophie let you both have your moment before she cleared her throat and told all the girls to write letters home and let them know how you were holding up. The girls sighed collectively in relief, rushing back to their rooms and while Arin went back, you decided to take that moment and ask Sophie about your parents.

"Ah, so it's you," Sophie's face changed as she smiled, "I remember the lot of you. It was always troublesome when the kids gather. Hongjoong would always be at one of these windows watching you all play enviously."

Now that was news. You always thought as a kid that the Prince was a stuck up snob who wouldn't bother to play with kids like you- but apparently all this time he wanted to join?

"You remember me?"

"Not much, but just the few kids playing in the gardens- it has been a memory I look back to sometimes. I was the one who'd always tell you all to keep your voices down, if you remember."

You gasped- it was her! Sophie laughed as you put a hand over your mouth in disbelief, bowing once in recognition as Sophie waved you off. "I remember you!"

"Of course you do," Sophie smiled, "I'll let one of the guards accompany you to your parent's room-"

"Not today," you hesitated, and Sophie looked confused, "I... I need some time. Can I visit once I'm ready?"

Sophie seemed like she understood, "Of course, dear. If you need anything, do let me know. Your mother was the most kind to me. The Queen misses her dearly."

"The Queen does?" You frowned.

"Don't you know? She was one of the queen's personal maids."

"Oh... They kept their work very private," you smiled. Of course she was. There was a reason she sometimes looked guilty when she slipped something about work- or the Queen- in front of you.

"Good to hear that," Sophie said.

"I'll take my leave now," you thanked her and left the room, feeling overwhelmed by the information and the weight of all this.

----------------

The next morning, all the girls including you were having breakfast with the royal family, casual conversation flowing between everyone, the girls around Arin asking her if she had her date yet, Arin shaking her head no repeatedly with a smile.

You were just on your third chocolate cookie when you were interrupted by the sudden opening of the doors, the guards shouting 'rebels!' and the room erupted in chaos.

"To the back of the room, ladies, now!" Prince Hongjoong got up, all except two guards leaving while the two shut and bolted the door from inside, the King putting a protective arm on his wife leading her to a corner, a few girls following them on instinct, and you immediately grabbed Arin's hand, telling her that rebels were inside the palace.

Arin was positively scared and you shushed her, telling her that now was the time to maintain her calm if she wanted to get Prince Hongjoong's attention, and she straightened her back a bit as she followed the girls to the back of the hall. Some of them were quietly sobbing, while some were shaking. It looked like not many had experienced such a situation.

You saw Prince Hongjoong pull down the shutters of the windows one by one and instead of following the girls, you decided to do the same, going to the other end of the room and drawing the shutters down, until there were two windows between you and the Prince, and at that moment you caught a flying object in your direction-

"Prince Hongjoong, duck, now!"

You only had time to say that as you drew your arms in front of you and crouched down, a sigh of relief escaping you when you saw the Prince follow your lead, the sound of a crash following soon after, the shards of broken glass spraying around you.

You heard Arin's scream, glad when you saw one of the girls hold her back protectively, and you got up, waving to her to indicate you were alright. The Prince got up, shutting the remaining two shutters- the window right next to you was broken.

"Are you hurt?" Prince Hongjoong grabbed you by the shoulders as he scanned you.

"Are you hurt?" You scanned him, and he shook his head, looking at the broken shards of glass.

"You're hurt," he noticed a shard of glass buried in your palm, blood trickling down your hand. He took out his handkerchief, and before he could pull the shard out, you stopped him, taking it out yourself and wincing slightly- it was a few inches big. You let the prince tie the handkerchief.

"You should have been careful, I thought I told all of you to get back to the room."

"The girls did," you replied, "I had to do something."

"I clearly addressed 'ladies'," Prince Hongjoong smiled at you, "You fall there too."

"Sorry," you held back a grin but the Prince noticed.

"Get there, please. I need to make sure the situation is okay before I get to the girls," he looked back once at the huddled girls, beckoning you to join them before going to the guards and speaking to them.

You joined Arin who hugged you, "I thought you were hurt badly!"

"Nothing much," you shook her off, "You know my instincts are good- I saw it coming, literally."

Arin rolled her eyes and you smiled- good. She was relaxed now. "You holding up okay?"

"Yeah, I just never expected something like this, I guess," Arin bit her lips, looking at the girl next to her, "Should we comfort them?"

"You should," you smiled, "I'll... see. I should too, I guess."

Arin looked at you knowingly and you gave in- she knew exactly what was going through your head, that some of the girls were sobbing more than they needed so maybe the Prince could come and console them.

And he did, patting every girl's back, telling them it was okay, that they were safe. Some girls even dared put their heads on his chest as they sobbed, and you noticed that the Prince was clearly nervous as he comforted the girls. When he reached Arin, you were proud that she didn't cry and he smiled at you both.

"You should go to the hospital wing after all of this is over," the Prince said, "You might be needing stitches."

"It's just a small cut," you said, but Prince Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you.

"It's an order."

You couldn't resist rolling your eyes this time and he laughed at that, you internally slapping yourself because how dare you roll your eyes at the Prince? But he didn't mind, telling you both to take care of yourselves as he went to the next girl and the next.

You did go to the hospital wing after everything settled, the nurses cleaning the wound and bandaging it saying it wouldn't need stitches, and you went to Arin's room after that. The girls were going to have dinners in their room since they were a bit shaken after the events of today, and you decided to have dinner with Arin.

"Do you think the rebels come here often?" Arin asked.

"I remember dad told me that they came at least three times a year on average," you said, "Some people aren't happy with the Selection, thinking the royals are neglecting the problems of the people, so I guess this was bound to happen."

"I hope it doesn't happen again," Arin shivered, "I'd hate anyone to get hurt."

"I hope so too," you suddenly weren't hungry anymore.

You decided to go for a walk before sleeping, just to clear your head, dressed in your deep purple silk pyjamas. The guard were now recognizing you and let you out without question, and you walked along the rows of flowers, your head blank, until you noticed a figure strolling casually as well.

"I guess you needed to clear your head too?"

It was the Prince.

You nodded, bowing once, "Are you... alright?"

"I am, thank you for asking," he said, and now that he was closer, you noticed that he was still in the same clothes, the coat off now and sleeves rolled, hair a beautiful mess. "How's your wound?"

"Oh, it's okay," you showed your bandaged palm, "It was a small cut after all."

"I've been meaning to ask you," he shifted, "How did you know to click the shutters close? Not everyone gets that on first try."

"Ah," you nodded, "It's my dad- he taught me how to when I visited the palace once, in case rebels came when I was present."

The Prince nodded, "When I told Sophie about you, she told me who your parents were- I was trained by your dad, in fact."

"You were?" Your jaw fell open- now that was news.

"I was, I knew your dad well," he smiled, "And your mother too. They were very close to us. I'm surprised you didn't tell me earlier."

"I... I didn't know," you admitted, "They always kept their work a secret from everyone, just said they served in the palace. I guess they didn't want anyone asking for favours or something, not even their own daughter."

The Prince noticed how confused you looked, "There must have been a good reason for that. They always talked about you. They were immensely proud of you- your dad was always comparing me to you as well."

"And how exactly? I don't think I can compete with you, Prince."

"Call me Hongjoong," he said, putting his hands in his pockets, "He said you were a better learner than I was. He said, and I quote, 'my daughter could flip you as if you weighed nothing but a sack of potatoes- an empty one at that'."

You couldn't help it, you laughed out loud at that. "I cannot! I mean, I could, but I'm not that good. I'm sure he only said that to get you to learn quicker."

"It worked," Hongjoong laughed, "So he trained you too?"

"Just a bit, mostly defense," you told him.

"Have you visited their room yet? Did Sophie update you?"

"She did, but I... I can't go visit their room right away."

Hongjoong paused a bit before continuing to walk. "Is there a reason?"

"I... I just need some time. Now that I'm here, it feels like they're still running around, mom nowhere in sight like always, dad with the guards while I wait for them to finish their work so we can go home. Plus, with all the new information about their jobs..."

"I understand," Hongjoong assured you, "Take your time. It must be hard for you."

"Thank you," you passed a smile, "Will the rebels be back anytime soon?"

Hongjoong realized you must know a great deal about rebels, "They might come back sooner than we expect. They're not happy with what's going on these days. It'll take some time to calm them down."

You nodded, suddenly aware of the time you'd taken. "I'm sorry- I'm always interrupting your alone time-"

"No, it's perfectly fine, I appreciate this," Hongjoong said, and you narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh.

"I truly do. I like it when I have someone to talk to, to sort my thoughts out, but there's not many I can talk to. If you'd like... can we be... friends? Can we talk like this sometimes? No pressure though, don't feel obliged to accept just because I'm, well, the Prince."

You shut your mouth before your jaw could drop- did he really ask you to be his friend?

"You don't have many friends, do you?"

Hongjoong put his hands up in surrender, and you pretended to consider. "I guess we can. If you were friends with my dad... you should know I'm very much like him."

"Bad humour and no regard for authority? Can I take my offer back?"

"Too late, Prince," you grinned.

Hongjoong sighed dramatically, asking you if you wanted to take a seat with him and you nodded, sitting on the bench and watching the sky. "Can I ask you why you're holding this Selection in the first place?"

Hongjoong looked at you once before sighing and looking back, "I didn't want to, actually. The thought of 30 girls with their futures depending on my decision is more intimidating than I thought. But it was a tough time for everyone, and the Selection was killing two birds with one stone- providing a distraction and hope to the kingdom, while hoping I find someone who can stand me here."

You looked at him, "You think those girls can't stand you?"

"I know most of them will be changing their minds once they get to know me and this lifestyle more. It's more appealing from a far, as you must know."

"You do have a point," you nodded, "It must be tough. I'm..."

"Don't say you're sorry, I know that if you're like your dad, you're enjoying my misery."

You passed him a guilty look as you both laughed, and you shook your head, "I really hope you find someone you'll like in there. Someone who can actually stand you, the Prince and... Hongjoong. Both."

Hongjoong nodded at that, a little surprised, "Not many people know how I am really like."

"If you want, I can tell the girls you're the type to become jealous really quick."

Hongjoong frowned, and you grinned, "Sophie might have told me how you used to watch us kids play outside with a little scowl on your face-"

"I was a kid!" Hongjoong laughed out loud, "Of course I wanted to join you all!"

"You didn't tell me this the night I told you I was one of those kids," you looked at him pointedly.

"Should I really have told you that I was the one you called 'stuck-up brat'?"

You gasped at that, Hongjoong silly dancing victoriously while you looked away, ashamed. "It's okay, we were kids. I was envious, and you thought I was, well, a stuck-up brat."

"You're not denying it."

"You think I'm a stuck-up brat?"

"I don't know, are you?" You raised a brow, and Hongjoong grinned mischievously.

"I guess you'll find out soon."

The two of you stared at each other, not even realizing until you heard one of the guards walk past, the two of you suddenly drawing out of your trance, and you both got up, suddenly feeling aware.

"I should go," Hongjoong laughed awkwardly, "It's been nice talking to you."

"Same," you told him, brushing your clothes, saying bye and beginning to go back, pausing when you felt a hand stop you by the arm.

"Sorry, I just wanted to say... don't tell about our... interactions, to anyone- not even Arin. I don't want the other girls to give you a hard time because they'll think you're competition or something like that."

"Of course," you said, "I'm only a shadow here, don't worry."

You thought there was something sad about Hongjoong's smile as he said bye and went back.

-----------------

Hongjoong remained busy handling kingdom affairs while you were busy with Arin as you gave her language lessons, kept her up to date with everything, sat with her through the etiquettes lesson and guided her along. Everyone was getting used to conversing through you, and you were glad that no one could hate Arin- she was always so bright, always smiling and happy and clearly meant no harm, but you also understood that part of the reason was because the girls clearly thought Hongjoong would let go of Arin sooner or later.

But everyone sure was envious of Arin's date, scheduled in the evening before dinner. Arin sat in her room in pants and a blouse, wondering which recipes she should try.

"Tell me you'll help me too," Arin narrowed her eyes at you.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to interfere in your date," you grinned slyly.

"You witch!" Arin laughed, "You know we work better together."

It was true- Arin had taught you quite a few recipes and she was usually instructing you to do the menial tasks while she worked on the main ones to save time.

"Will you bring some for us?" Sana sighed dreamily, "It's been forever since I tried food that was not from the palace."

"I know right," Momo slumped in the couch, "I really want to go out and taste something new."

"Maybe you all should come and help us too," Arin said nervously.

"No, never," Mina scolded Arin, "Stop being nervous! The Prince will be here any second."

As if on cue, a knock sounded, and the maids immediately got up in a flurry, gushing over how Arin looked one last time before opening the door, letting Hongjoong in while they left, grinning.

"Ah, so you're prepared," Hongjoong scanned Arin- it was his first time seeing Arin so casual, yet she still looked elegant enough.

"Prince Hongjoong," Arin curtsied.

"Please skip the formalities and call me Hongjoong when we're alone," he smiled at the two of you.

"You're going in the kitchen in that?" Arin asked, and you kept in your laughter as you told Hongjoong what she had said.

"Now what's wrong with this-" Hongjoong looked down at his very polished black jacket, his prince attire- his usual attire.

"Do you think you're just going to be sitting back and watching her cook?" You asked Hongjoong, "You're helping."

Hongjoong's jaw dropped and as you told Arin what you'd said, she grinned, giving you a thumbs up, and Arin went ahead, snaking her arm in his and saying, "Lead the way."

"If I had known I was going to be the one doing the work," Hongjoong looked at you, "I would have maybe changed the location of the date and accepted Arin as a better chef."

"Which is why this was a surprise, but you should have figured it out," Arin said with a wink, making him laugh.

He led you both to the kitchens, where the staff greeted the Prince, Arin and you, saying this was a first time someone would have a date in the kitchen.

Arin asked for aprons, helping tie Hongjoong's and you smiled at how comfortable they looked with each other. Arin asked for the chef and looked at you as she said, "We're making brownies and scones. Should I leave the brownie batter to you?"

"Of course," you nodded, "I'll stay close by- you and Hongjoong can work on the scones."

You translated that to everyone and the chefs went to get the ingredients, Arin following them as she picked some of her own while you rolled your sleeves.

"You should roll your sleeves too," you said to Hongjoong who was watching you, "And do keep your arms tucked in as you work."

"Alright, ma'am," Hongjoong saluted, following your lead.

"So have you never baked before?"

"I have never cooked or baked," Hongjoong said, "I was always too busy."

"Well, first time for everything," you smiled, "Don't worry, Arin is a sweetheart. Even if you do something wrong, she'll tell you you did excellent with a smile."

And sure enough- Hongjoong was supposed to be following Arin but he was way too clumsy, which earned a good laugh from everyone, but Arin kept encouraging him- in Korean, thanks to the last lesson you'd given her where she'd specifically worked on phrases she'd probably need. It was cute to watch Hongjoong struggle with English while Arin struggled with Korean.

You were standing beside Hongjoong, not too far so you could help if they mistranslated anything, and the few cooks were following your lead, asking you about how Arin knew so much about baking- which you told them was thanks to her aunts being professional bakers.

"That looks way better than mine," Hongjoong looked at your batter as you dropped the chocolate chunks in the bowl, "can I have the chocolate?"

"No," you continued pouring the rest of the chocolate in, but Hongjoong slipped a hand in and picked a chunk, grinning in victory.

"Focus on your batter, Prince," you scoffed, "You don't wanna embarrass yourself on your first date, do you?"

"I'm afraid it's too late to worry," Hongjoong sulked as he fiddled with the spoon.

"Now we bake," Arin announced, smiling at you two and wriggling her brows at you, and you told her you just needed 5 more minutes to be done. Arin helped Hongjoong with the rest of his batter, and Hongjoong finally sat and watched as she set the tray and put it in the oven.

"Good riddance," Hongjoong muttered, and you kicked his leg from under the table before going to pour your own batter and tossing it in the ovens.

There were enough scones and brownies for everyone in the kitchen- a few people only, which meant you could take some back to the maids too. The three of you sat side by side as you watched the scones and brownies rise dreamily.

"I love this smell," Hongjoong muttered, "Maybe I should come in the kitchen when I want to relax."

You were sitting beside Arin so you quickly told her what he'd just said, and she smiled, "I used to do that. The smell alone made half my worries disappear."

"I can see that," Hongjoong smiled.

"The kitchens are open to you lot whenever you want to come," the head chef announced, "Especially you, Arin. I already know these are going to taste amazing. We could learn a thing or two from you."

Arin grinned, "Maybe I could learn from you all too- the food is amazing here. Thank you."

Hongjoong noticed how everyone was looking at Arin with admiration- she truly was humble and kind.

One by one the bells started to ding and Arin and the chefs picked out the trays from the oven, setting it on the tables to cool down, Arin swatting Hongjoong's hand away when he tried to pick one, scolding him because it was hot and 'a Prince should be patient' at which Hongjoong rolled his eyes and slumped down as he glared at the scones and brownies.

"Come on," you teased, "you're sulking way too much."

"Just because I'm a prince doesn't mean I can't," his sulk went deeper, making everyone around laugh.

Arin fanned one of the trays, making Hongjoong's face lift in hope, and when she finally touched the food to make sure it wasn't burning hot, she picked a scone and a brownie, setting it on a plate and adding a few toppings before handing it to Hongjoong.

"Go ahead and try," she smiled.

Hongjoong looked at you for confirmation and you nodded, and he finally picked the fork and took a bite of the scone, then a bite of the brownie, Arin eagerly waiting for him to react.

Hongjoong looked at the chef first, who raised his brows, then at Arin, then at you, and then slid his plate away.

"This is too good to eat."

Arin's face fell but you laughed, telling her what he had just said, and she almost cried, scolding Hongjoong for making it look like he hated it, at which he laughed, digging into his sweets again, everyone else passing scones and brownies too, compliments flowing for Arin and you didn't need to translate any of that- their faces said enough.

"For the maids," Arin picked some scones and brownies and asked for a box, and Hongjoong smiled.

"Maybe we should make these again for dinner one day. I'm sure the king and queen would love these too."

Arin gasped in surprise, but when Hongjoong nodded to assure her, she smiled, "Maybe."

"I should compliment you too, after all, you made the brownies," Hongjoong looked at you.

"This was Arin's recipe, I only followed the instructions," you told him.

"You know, my mother says that nothing tastes the same when made by different people even when the instructions followed remain perfectly same- the taste of one's hand- or heart," Hongjoong smiled, "you got that too."

You rolled your eyes but you were clearly pleased, "Thanks. I guess I do."

After eating until you all felt like you would throw up if you ate any more, Hongjoong thanked Arin for this experience, saying he'd never forget it and he promised to come to the kitchen more. Arin told him he didn't need to, but he could come if he wanted to relax. He walked her to the room, leaving with a kiss to her cheek that had her jumping up and down after he left, and you laughed at how she was going on about her 'fantasies fulfilled'. Entering, the maids waiting, you waved the boxes in front of them and they thanked Arin graciously before eating and moaning because these were too good.

The news of Arin's date got to the girls too, and you heard them talk about it the next morning, asking Arin how the Prince was like, if he was too uptight or if he was funny, etc. Arin truly felt like a star.

You sat through the history lesson, learning things yourself as you conveyed everything to Arin. It was the history about how the kingdoms of Wonderland and Utopia had united, how they always used to be at war for one reason or another, until about 49 years ago when the two had been united by the king, peace settling for a few decades, but the people growing restless with every passing year as discrimination grew.

Sophie asked how the rebels could be handled, and the girls had interesting answers to give- ranging from getting rid of the rebels altogether to actually finding a solution, such as a hearing from the rebels where they talk about the problems with the royal family and figure something out together.

Two days passed by, Hongjoong spending time with all the girls whenever he could, the girls who hadn't had a date yet getting insecure and nervous about it, until it was finally the day for the report- the first time the girls would have a live talk and reveal themselves to the public after getting in the palace.

Sophie had done you a favour and let you in on the script for Arin's questions, so she could prepare her English accordingly, and you were glad for it. Though you would be present and guiding her along, it would really help if Arin already knew what could be asked.

The maids insisted on getting you in a dress, but you strongly rejected- you really did not want to steal Arin's spotlight. You would only distract the public if you appeared the same as Arin. And even though Arin pouted and asked you (something you couldn't usually refuse), you had to shake your head no this time.

"Just dress me in the best suit," you winked at the maids, "I'll be good with that."

So while Arin had dressed in a deep red gown with lots of frill and pearls, her hair half tied with curls framing her face, you had dressed to match in a deep red three-piece suit. You absolutely loved it and thanked the maids for coming up with this- the pearls near the neckline were cherry on top. Your hair was slicked back, pearl earring in your ears the only jewellery you had along with a watch. You had matching heels to finish your outfit.

"We look more like a couple than I could ever look with Hongjoong," Arin grinned.

It was true. You grinned back, "We'll get Hongjoong to match with you one day and see who makes the better couple."

Arin slapped your arm playfully, and then you were escorted by the guards to the room where the broadcast would be conducted, and you had to blink your eyes a few time to adjust to the lights and the colours of the selected girls seated in the front. You both went inside, sitting side by side in the second row, Byeol next to you.

"Arin looks gorgeous, but you? Holy hell, woman."

"Is it too much?" You frowned- you hadn't expected to grab attention.

"I'm just saying you look great- if you weren't in a different dress, you could easily pass as one of the selected," she smiled, focusing her attention back on the crowd.

You thought about it- would people think the same after seeing you on television? Probably not. You were only a translator, you'd be sitting in the shadows as you translated everything to Arin- and you hoped she wouldn't need you.

The girls were pretty nervous, one even having to rush to the toilet because she felt like she was going to throw up. You looked at Arin- she seemed excited but the way she was unconsciously cracking her knuckles gave her away.

"If you crack your knuckles while you sit there I'll break your fingers," you warned.

Arin laughed, "You're such a mother. But if I do, feel free to poke me. I'll do the breaking myself."

You chuckled, the lights getting dimmer, and the host Kang Yeosang entered, his hair in a blonde mullet, and looking as beautiful as ever.

If there was one man you thought looked perfect, it was Yeosang. He looked too perfect to be real, and you were probably more nervous about getting to meet your favourite celebrity and host of variety shows or talk shows than the interview itself.

"I think I'm gonna have to shake you one or two times during the interview," Arin said as she closed your mouth shut with a finger, laughing at how star-struck you were after seeing Yeosang, and as you glared at her, you pointed to the girls- you weren't the only one with a hanging jaw.

"Good evening, Wonderland!" Yeosang announced, looking as much a prince as the Prince himself in his deep purple suit, "Tonight, we'll be getting an inside scoop from these young ladies I know you're all dying to meet. We'll learn how things are going with Prince Hongjoong, we're just going to ask! Let's welcome... Miss Kim Kahi from Utopia City!"

Kahi moved elegantly from the first row to the stage, greeting Yeosang with a curtsy before settling down. She was composed and did well, so did the others, but it was pretty predictable. Some girls were acting shy on purpose- you'd never seen them like this and you knew because you were usually the one sitting back and watching everyone objectively. Some were clearly nervous but Yeosang joked a bit, which helped them calm down.

Arin was called when there were two girls remaining- the two of you got up, you immediately rushing to the backstage from where you would seat yourself as Arin would walk to the stage and greet Yeosang. You stood waiting until Arin was ready to sit, which was when Yeosang shook your hand too, and you prayed your hand wasn't sweaty as you smiled.

"Miss Arin from Mist Island, a unique case here because of the language barrier- I hope you're holding up well?"

Arin looked at you in confirmation and you nodded, and she smiled as she looked at Yeosang, "I'm doing well, thank you for asking."

"Ah, you sound good! Do we have your translator to thank for that, Miss...?"

You told him your name, "Arin is a quick and eager learner, I'm sure she'll get the hang of this is no time."

"Definitely! So, Arin, tell us, have you had a date with the Prince yet?"

"I have, we made cake in the kitchen," Arin was gleaming, making Yeosang chuckle.

"Now that's something unheard of! So tell us- is our Prince as good at baking as he is at running the kingdom or does he need practice?"

Arin looked at you with confusion this time, and you quickly told her what he'd said, "He's very good! Pro!"

As she said that, she looked at Hongjoong sitting in the front row who was laughing and shaking his head, making the crowd laugh as well as the cameras panned back and forth.

"I think the Prince disagrees, now which one of you is lying?" Yeosang narrowed his eyes dramatically, and you told Arin, Arin instead asking you to explain.

"She says she would never lie about this," you tried to stop the grin appearing on your face.

"Let's hear from the Prince," Yeosang looked at Hongjoong, who picked up his mic.

"Arin refuses to admit I'm a bad chef, but I did exceptionally well thanks to Arin's instructions. She's an excellent guide and baker!"

"Ah, that's great to hear," Yeosang smiled, "So Miss Arin, how do you feel about the Selection?"

Now Arin got the question, and she spoke confidently, "I'm honoured to be a part of it, no matter the outcome. Whoever he marries will be a lucky person. And..."

Arin turned to you as she spoke, and you cleared your throat, "Arin says that Prince Hongjoong is an amazing person, and she hopes he finds a good partner through this process, no matter who that is."

Yeosang smiled warmly at the two of you, "Thank you, Miss Arin. We hope to see you again in the next report, good luck!"

With that, you and Arin took off, you going backstage while Arin stood for a few pictures before leaving the stage. As you made your way back, the girls grinned at you. "You two were amazing. Arin did such a good job, I feel happy for her."

"Thank you Byeol, Nayoung," you smiled.

After the interviews, you all were led to have dinner in the hall, where Hongjoong joined, applauding everyone for doing a good job with the interviews. He was going from one girl to the other to have small talk after dinner, and then he finally reached the two of you.

"Good job, Arin!" Hongjoong smiled and Arin thanked him, "You did better than I expected."

"You should thank her," Arin said, but the two of you shook your head.

"It was all you, Arin," you said, and Hongjoong nodded.

"A little bit of her too, but all you," he laughed.

Arin smiled, and Hongjoong looked at you, "Are we walking in the garden tonight?"

"Are we?" You cocked your head- was that an invitation? Hongjoong only smiled.

"I'm not supposed to tell you already, but there's an assignment coming up where Arin would have to present something verbally. Just dropping a hint- foreign visit taking place soon."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," you zipped your lips, squeezing Arin's hand as in 'wait'.

"I'll be taking my leave then, have a good night, Arin."

"Good night," Arin smiled and Hongjoong took her hand and kissed it before taking his leave, leaving Arin watching him dreamily.

"Snap out of it, woman, we have work to do," you clicked your fingers in front of her, "Assignment. Foreign visitors, you'll have to present something. Don't tell anyone- he only told us."

"Why did he only tell us though?" Arin frowned.

"He probably wants you to do a good job," you put a hand on your hip, "Which means you might be one of his favourites right now."

"Wow... that's good to hear," she let out a breathy laugh.

"Also... I should tell you this, but Hongjoong knows me from our childhood too- not much," you sighed, "Remember how I told you I used to visit the palace often? He's seen me around."

"Ah, that's so cool!" Arin gushed, "I wish he'd known me too."

"That's not cool in any way," you muttered, flashbacks of your dark past- especially the fact that he knew you used to call him a stuck-up brat flowing in your head, and you shook the thoughts away.

"I'll tell you more later- I found out that my mother was the queen's maid and father was Hongjoong's personal trainer- tell no one, okay?"

"Who would I tell, you're my only friend," Arin rolled her eyes, "But how come you did not know this? They didn't tell you?"

"That's what I keep asking," you bit your lips, "Why am I the last person who knows this?"

----------------

You tried to ignore the excitement you felt simply because Hongjoong had very casually invited you for a walk. You supposed that now that you were 'friends', you'd be hanging out more. Plus, it really looked like he needed someone like you right now- someone who could understand Hongjoong but understand the selected girls too, help him sort his thoughts out.

What you did not know was the thoughts that ran through Hongjoong's mind when he saw you at the broadcast room.

Hongjoong knew it was somewhat wrong, seeing how there were literally 22 girls who all dressed up for him, in absolutely beautiful gowns- and they did look beautiful. However, when you had walked in with your slicked back hair dressed in a suit... he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

He would never say it out loud- there was a goddamned Selection going on just for him. But you were stunning, you were funny, you knew more about how the palace and this country ran than any of the girls here, and Hongjoong had one question in his mind that he wanted to ask you tonight.

Now that part was tricky. He would have to remain as casual as possible, and he knew you were very clever and would realize if something was off too.

Hongjoong thought it was crazy- you two hadn't known each other for two long, but the way you clicked... he supposed you were just one of those people who he'd felt like he'd known forever. And even if you were going to be just friends, he really appreciated that.

He arrived in the garden first- or so he thought, until he saw you playing with a flower in a corner and he took in your appearance- you were still in your dress, only your heels changed.

Hongjoong had to shake his head- this was downright cruel. He was sure you didn't realize the effect you had on him tonight but maybe the deities did and they were punishing him for having these thoughts when 22 girls were waiting for him.

As if you'd notice him watching you, you turned to him, smiling and waving at him, unknown to the fact that he had been here and thinking about you. Hongjoong neared, taking a deep breath.

"Long night," he sighed, "You didn't change."

"Neither did you," you pointed out, and he looked down as if he hadn't realized.

"I was busy," he laughed, and you raised a brow.

"I was busy too."

"With what?"

"Just this and that," you sighed, "Helping Arin calm down after all the excitement, playing a game of cards with the maids. I didn't realize it was so late until I went to my room, and I wouldn't want to keep our busy prince waiting now, would I?"

"I love how you always find a way to mock me with my title," Hongjoong shook his head.

"So," you turned to him, beckoning him to walk and he did alongside you, "Is there a reason you called me for a walk?"

"Can't friends do that?" Hongjoong pouted.

"True," you shrugged, "How was tonight then? Like anyone?

"Well," Hongjoong took a long time to think, "Arin certainly did a great job. Kahi was a natural. The people love Nayoung. Byeol is well educated."

"I asked about who you liked," you gave him a pointed look, and laughed at how torn he looked, "Too early to ask?"

"Yes," Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I don't know if I like any of them like that. I don't feel a spark with anyone- maybe there's no such thing as a spark."

"There is," you assured him, and he raised a brow.

"Have you felt it?"

"I felt it, tonight," you smirked, watching his expressions change into confusion.

"Who, exactly, are you talking about?"

"Well, who do you think? Come on, it's easy. Who looked like a Prince tonight?"

"Me?" Hongjoong pointed at himself, and you laughed.

"I said looked like a Prince. It was Yeosang, of course. I can't believe how handsome he is! The camera really doesn't do justice to his beauty, and that's crazy because he looks so beautiful even on tv."

Hongjoong groaned, "Come on! Yeosang?"

"And why not?" You put your hands on your hips, "Can't a girl dream?"

"Sure. Dream along, I won't stop you," Hongjoong waved a hand in dismissal, "For a moment I thought there was a special someone back home."

"Nah," you smiled, shaking your head, "Never has been, and at this rate, never will be."

"Why? I think you're pretty fun to be around."

"You think that because you have no one to talk to and I'm your best option."

"Not at all," Hongjoong shook his head, "I know a lot of people. I'm not lying."

"Okay, let's accept that I'm fun and likable. I never liked anyone. Well, maybe if Yeosang would give me a chance..."

"I'll banish him if he looks at you funny," Hongjoong mumbled, making you snort in a very unladylike manner, "But I was wondering... did you enter the Selection?"

"Me?" You looked at him, and he nodded, "No, I didn't."

"Why?" Hongjoong asked, and you scanned his face.

"A number of reasons, but the main one being the lack of self confidence I have. The probability of getting picked, and then getting picked after the Selection... it's too little and too stressful. Why would I do that to myself? Also, I don't think I'm princess material."

"Well," Hongjoong began, "I can understand that you thought you didn't stand a chance, but I think... I think you would have done well."

"Oh, come on," you slapped his arm lightly, "Stop making fun of me."

Hongjoong grinned, and you shook your head. You'd just never fantasized about Hongjoong or being a princess. You were glad for Arin though, who had. Hongjoong was staring at you and you caught him.

"Would you have liked me to enter?" You wriggled your brows, and Hongjoong pretended to throw up, making you mutter a few curse words under your breath.

"Anyways," Hongjoong exhaled, "I'm thinking of announcing an elimination tomorrow. I've talked to every one of the girls. I don't want to keep hanging this matter."

"Ah, do take your time. It's your future, after all."

"Of course," he sighed, "Wife. Friend. Partner. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I hope to find it soon."

"Don't worry about the sparks, by the way," you said, "you should really get to know the girls. Sparks will come if you click with them and begin to like them."

"I suppose so," Hongjoong said.

"Can I ask you something?" You said after a moment, and he nodded, "Will I be going home tomorrow, with Arin?"

"Isn't this cheating?" Hongjoong asked, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm not telling Arin. Come on, as a friend, I should know if I should sleep after packing my bags or not."

"Well, you're not going. I like Arin more than most of the girls there- she's easy to be with. Plus, I think I'll keep her anyway if it means I get to eat those scones and brownies anytime-"

"Prince Hongjoong, are you out of your mind-"

"I'm kidding!" Hongjoong laughed, "About the brownie part. Though I certainly wouldn't mind- I'm just saying that I'll keep Arin for now. And don't worry, if I decide to send her home, I'll let you know beforehand."

"Can you promise me one thing?" You said, and Hongjoong stopped as he looked at you. "Promise me that if you don't like Arin, you won't keep her hanging in here. You'll let her go. She's my best friend, and I don't want her to live here longer if she would be living in false hope."

"Does she really like me?" Hongjoong asked, and you shrugged.

"I'm still trying to figure that out- if she's still in her fantasy phase or if she genuinely likes you. But can you please consider her, despite the language barrier?"

"Of course, I am already," Hongjoong assured you.

"Thank you," you gave him a nod, "I know I shouldn't be asking this of you- you're the Prince, for heck's sake-"

"I'm just Hongjoong when I'm with you, so... you can ask anything."

You looked at him in gratitude, trying to ignore the way your heart flipped when you heard that. "Thank you. Should we go now? It's pretty late."

"We should," Hongjoong said, and his face twisted into surprise when you tucked the little flower you had been playing with in his hair over his ear.

"You look pretty," you laughed, beginning to walk back.

"Hey," Hongjoong said, and you turned, "I don't think I told you... but you looked really beautiful tonight."

"Me?" You pointed at yourself, making him laugh a bit as he nodded.

"Yes, you. I like this look on you. I mean it."

You made an impressed face as you playfully ran your hands over your hair as if to slick them back, making him laugh before saying bye and taking off.

As you lay in bed, you tried to ignore the fact that he'd call everyone pretty in the hall just a few hours ago, but-

He'd called you beautiful. And he had said that he meant it.

You wondered what life would have been like if you had entered the Selection, and wondered if you were better off like this.

------------------

The next few days were the busiest days you'd all seen so far- with the royal family of Halaland visiting Wonderland, it was all hustle and bustle in the palace, and you'd think the palace had months to prepare as they set the tents, as decoration was done and champagne of the highest quality was brought out from the cellars.

You'd all learn that the royals of Halaland were easy to offend, so the selected girls especially had to be super careful with their etiquettes and manners, but they were no boomers as well and loved to enjoy so you had to charm them. Natural charmers like Kahi and a few other girls were pretty relaxed compared to girls like Sohee and Wonyoung who were naturally shy and reserved.

As for Arin... she was both nervous but also confident now that everyone including Hongjoong had praised her for her natural charms, and you were glad she finally understood that she just needed to be herself.

This time, you had to give up wearing the suit, since it was a very formal event, and your maids came up with the brilliant idea combining the elegance of a suit with a dress- a sheath surplice neck asymmetrical dress with sleeves that reached a bit below your elbows, the length of it just above your knees. You felt strangely exposed after wearing suits and pants for so long, but you couldn't deny you felt good- the pale mauve colour of it seeming more purple when you shifted in the light- you couldn't help but admire the dress.

"You guys always outdo yourselves," you breathed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, paired with heels of the same colour, "How did you even come up with this colour? It's so nice!"

"Wait till you see Arin," Momo smiled, "She'll look different tonight- we've had enough of her innocent looks."

"Ooh," you raised a brow, "I'm looking forward to that."

"Come on, let me do your hair," Mina made you sit, tying your hair in a loose bun with messy curls falling, pearls in your hair, a pearl bracelet the only accessory you would be wearing tonight apart from your usual diamond studs.

"Dressing you up feels like you're one of the Selected too," Sana smiled as she patted your arm.

"Even I start to feel like it- you guys do too much to me, it's really unnecessary."

"Please, where's the fun if you hang beside Arin looking as plain as a mouse? Everyone deserves to look stylish."

You shook your head, the maids taking you to Arin's room who was already done getting ready before you, and you audibly gasped when you saw her in the midnight black off-shoulder dress with a silver belt on the waist, shimmery stars growing more as you looked down, her hair left straight and open, pinned at one side, her eyes bold and smokey.

"Now, now," you scanned her up and down, "Who is this? I don't think I recognize this sexy lady."

"Shut up," Arin laughed, "Is it too much?"

"I think it's perfect. Hongjoong won't be able to look away from you after this. And if he does, I'll assume he's blind."

Arin smiled half-heartedly, and you assumed she was nervous, asking her if she was feeling okay.

"Let's just go, I need to go over the things with the girls too," Arin said.

You reached the great hall where some of the girls were already there, and the way they gasped when Arin came, hugging her and complimenting her, you felt a little teary eyed. After every elimination, the remaining girls seemed to get closer too despite the growing competition, and now that Hongjoong had eliminated 6 more girls, they were down to 16.

"You look wonderful too, I'm glad I'm seeing you in something that is not a suit," Nayoung scoffed, and you scoffed back playfully.

"Ladies!" Sophie came hurriedly, dragging all the girls to the entrance so they could receive the guests, "Remember- chins up, backs straight, and don't forget to smile."

The girls stood in two rows, in front of each other. The sounds of laughter and chatter grew stronger with every passing minute, and you stood on your tiptoes to peek at the guests, noticing Arin doing the same, and you poked her from the back.

"Stand straight, miss," you ordered, and she gave you a guilty smile.

The ladies and the gents started to enter, all in the most elegant dresses you'd ever seen, mostly shades of blue and blacks, the girls all greeting with hugs and kisses, getting compliments with a smile. It seemed that the royal family of Halaland was very interested in the Selection.

As the guests dispersed, greeting the queen who looked regal in her own black gown, the king and Hongjoong were at the farthest corner of the hall, and the girls all dispersed around him, hoping to catch Hongjoong's eye.

You and Arin stood by the table, you sipping on the champagne which tasted as expensive as it must be, while Arin was looking around nervously.

"Go ahead," you told her, "I think you're good enough in Korean to have a basic conversation. Or should I tag along?"

"You should, just in case. I don't wanna embarrass myself," Arin pouted.

"Arin, honey, you're adorably sexy today and if you fumble a bit with words, that would only add to your charm tonight. I'll tag along, lead the way, wherever you wanna go."

Arin grinned as she led the way, the two of you walking around until one of the younger guests, who you assumed was the Princess of Halaland approached Arin.

"It's so good to see you in person," she said in English and took Arin's hand, "You're my pick, just so you know."

Arin gasped, "Really? Thank you!"

"You're cute," she grinned, looking at you, "And you're definitely doing a great job since she's still here."

"Thank you, your Highness," you bowed.

"Call me Miyeon," she said to the two of you, "Should I put in a good word for you with Hongjoong?"

"Thank you, but I think Hongjoong should like me without anyone telling him to," Arin smiled.

"That's wise," Miyeon grinned, "Do you like Hongjoong?"

"I was more of a fan before the Selection, but I'm trying to really get to know him and how the palace works."

"See?" Miyeon looked at you, "I had a reason I picked her."

You gleamed at Arin, "See? You're doing great, Arin."

Arin laughed, and Miyeon told you she could take it from here, that she wanted to get to know Arin and would introduce her to the royal family. You thanked her, and though Arin looked nervous, you told her it was a great opportunity to interact with everyone with you not by her side, and Arin reluctantly but happily went with Miyeon.

You watched the two of them go away like a proud mother, going back to sipping your champagne, watching the girls interact with Hongjoong one by one too, Hongjoong all polite smiles.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A deep voice sounded, and you looked at the source- a tall boy around your age with a sharp face and even sharper eyes.

"Just observing," you said, "And you are?"

"Prince San of Halaland," he bowed, and you gasped, curtsying and apologizing for not recognizing him.

"I'm not one of the Selected girls, by the way, in case you want to interact with them."

"Oh no, why would I want to interact with the ladies who are only interested in Prince Hongjoong?" Prince San grinned, making you shrug as you smiled, "I saw you on the TV, you know. With Miss Arin. My sister Miyeon is crazy about her, and with the amount of times she watched her clips in front of me..."

"Ah, is that so?" You couldn't help but grin at that as you looked at Miyeon and Arin talking like long lost best friends, "They do look like they have been apart for too long now."

"Indeed," San huffed as he put his pockets and shook his head at the way his sister was chatting with Arin, all laughs and giggles, "How's job as a translator?"

"I'm actually Arin's best friend before translator, so I'm good," you told him, offering him a glass which he took, "And what brings the Prince to a measly translator?"

"Well," Prince San looked at you as he drank, "This mere old Prince wanted a break from girls in frills."

You scoffed, "I could have been in frills tonight too."

"And I still would have approached you," his gaze was... flirty. You raised a brow, and he laughed.

"I'm saying I could use good company," Prince San said as he scanned you up and down, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable-

"Prince San," a familiar voice sounded and you almost sighed in relief when you saw Hongjoong, "Long time."

"Long time," Prince San hugged him, "How's the Selection treating you?"

"I don't even know how it's treating me," Hongjoong said, finally looking at you and smiling, "You're alone."

"Arin was snatched by my sister," Prince San put a hand up as in surrender, "She's a bit of a fan of hers."

"Ah, I forgot you both were fluent in English. It's good for her to hang out without a translator for once," Hongjoong looked at you.

"Definitely, I had to push her, but she really needed this," you smiled.

"Well, you've got eyes, Prince San," Hongjoong pointed to a group of older ladies calling him over, and he rolled his eyes, muttering a bye before taking off.

"What did he want?" Hongjoong asked you, and you raised a brow at his tone.

"Nothing, he was just talking."

"Be careful of him- he loves to talk to people and then use them for 'distraction'," Hongjoong sighed, and you nodded- you'd got that vibe from him too, "Anyways, I never thought I'd see you in a dress."

You rolled your eyes, "It had to happen one day."

"I'm not complaining, you look as beautiful as always," Hongjoong said.

"Well, thanks, I guess. It's definitely a change I needed tonight- I think it would have been odd wearing a suit tonight, no one's wearing one."

"Exactly," Hongjoong nodded, "Can we see you in a skirt next time?"

"Stop teasing me," you almost slapped his arm, remembering you were very much in public, "Don't you have other girls to go to and tell them they look beautiful or something?"

"No," Hongjoong smiled distantly, and you frowned.

"Hello, you're still in the Selection. Go. The girls are literally waiting for you to notice them, and do compliment everyone at least. They all probably spent the whole day dressing up for you."

"Ugh, it's so pressurizing!" Hongjoong waved dramatically, and this time, you did push him forward, sending him laughing as he walked away to the nearest girl, who eagerly snaked her arm in his.

The rest of the event was mostly boring for you, making small talk with anyone who came to greet you, trying to avoid Prince San, and running into Hongjoong again, who said he needed to charge himself for at least two days after this event. Food was served and you finally sat with Arin and Miyeon as you ate, mostly listening to their conversation, adding a joke or two in between.

The night was still young, and you needed to take a breather. Telling Arin you'd be back, you went to freshen up a bit, deciding to go outside and take a breath of that chilly fresh air. You took a turn and nearly bumped into someone-

That someone being Hongjoong, your faces incredibly close as you both took ahold of your footing, finally breathing when you stepped away.

"Careful when you walk, we could have crashed rather painfully."

"What's got you in a rush?" You asked as you tried to calm your beating heart.

"Nothing, just coming back after taking a breather," he ran a hand through his hair, "I guess you're in need of one too."

"Absolutely," you said, "See you around, Prince."

With that, you took off into the night, leaving Hongjoong staring at your back for a good minute before he shook his head and walked back inside.

The rest of the night was as uneventful as it could be, Arin and Miyeon engaged in a heated conversation and you couldn't help but smile at the two- good for Arin. She had little to no conversation with the selected girls and you really liked that she was talking to someone finally.

As for Prince San, he kept coming back to you after every half an hour, apologizing for making you feel uncomfortable, saying he just wanted good company since he would be here for three days. So you accepted, the two of you finding yourself talking about anything and everything, from childhood stories to habits.

"Don't tell anyone, but I really adore cats," he smiled.

"That's surprising, but nothing to be ashamed of. You should tell everyone this, in fact. Don't you have pet cats? If I were you I would have opened my palace gates for all cats."

"Miyeon's allergic, so I can't do that," he sighed, looking at Miyeon and smiling warmly.

"You two seem close."

"We're practically best friends. We tell each other everything."

"That's sweet," you smiled, "What do you do other than performing your princely duties though?"

"Well, I like working out. I like to play with my cats- stray cats, in the garden. I also like to sing in the shower."

"You should hold a shower concert sometime, your cats could be your audience," you said, and he laughed out loud, putting his hand over his face- a habit of his. "Also, I have a question- I'm curious about something."

"Ask away."

"Do you and Miyeon have as much responsibility as Hongjoong, or is it less of a burden to you?"

"It's definitely less, my elder sister is in line for the throne. In fact, don't tell anyone, but we were considering their marriage before the Selection."

You gasped, "Really? Did they know each other or like each other?"

"They know each other, but not really- they've only met twice or thrice. But considering how things are in this kingdom, we decided against the unison of our kingdoms."

"Ah, so it just happened."

"I think it's sad," San shook his head, "I can't imagine marrying someone I don't know or like. I can't imagine having a Selection either- I don't know how he's handling it."

"I know. I think it's sad that he doesn't have the freedom to date and explore. What if he doesn't like any one of them?"

"Let's pray he does," San said.

-----------------

The next day was chaotic, to put it lightly.

Kahi had basically announced that she and Hongjoong had kissed last night. Nayoung admitted that she had kissed him a few days ago too.

The reactions ranged from jealousy to anger to curiosity- what was it like? Who kissed first? How did it feel?

You supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later, though you were a bit disappointed in the obvious choices- Nayoung being the palace star and Kahi being people's favourite.

However, you were more surprised when you conveyed all of this to Arin and she showed little reaction.

"Did you already know?" You asked.

"I didn't," she admitted, saying nothing, but you didn't spot disappointment on her face either, so you shrugged it off.

Arin told you that she would be spending more time with Miyeon since she was here for only two more days, offering you to join but you turned it down. You didn't want to be the third-wheel and you really wanted her to talk to someone else as well. You were glad that she had a friend now.

You went to Arin's room, chatting with Momo, Mina and Sana, catching up with palace gossip such as what the selected were up to, who was whose favourite, etc. After a game of cards, you went to your room and slumped on your bed, wondering if it was time to finally visit your parent's room.

You were still conflicted, but you decided to go to the kitchen and steal something while you would decide.

However, you were surprised with the sight of Hongjoong sitting by himself in a corner, watching the brownies in the oven bake, the rest of the kitchen busy with their own work, paying no heed to the Prince.

"How long has he been coming over?" You asked a woman you knew was the assistant chef.

"Every other day, basically. Sometimes he eats, sometimes he just watches us, poor thing," she waved her hand in a motherly nature.

As if Hongjoong had felt your stare, he turned, his face lighting at the sight of you as he patted the spot next to him.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a kingdom to run or girls to kiss?"

You cringed a bit, wondering if you sounded jealous, but he just put his face in his hands, clearly ashamed. "I guess everyone knows now."

"Well, it was bound to happen," you shrugged.

"I didn't mean to. With Nayoung... she kissed me at our date. And Kahi... I was really frustrated and- ugh, I feel ashamed."

You grinned, "No need to. You can kiss whoever you like."

Hongjoong clapped when the oven went off, and you got up to take the brownies out, placing them on the table you sat.

"Enough about that, why are you here?"

You sighed, "I was wondering if I had grown the balls to visit my parent's room."

Hongjoong choked on his brownie, muttering 'language'. "Do you want me to come with you?"

You looked at him, wondering if that was what you needed. Someone to be with you. Someone who knew.

"I don't know... I don't know if I am ready."

"Well, if you're here, you're ready," he told you, "Let's go after eating."

You watched him eat his brownie as he gazed at the rest dreamily. You wondered how you two had become so comfortable with each other- to the point you'd forget he was the Prince. Hongjoong caught you staring.

"What are you looking at?"

"You, obviously," you scoffed, shrugging awkwardly as you took a bite, "Just wondering how we got... here."

"I know," Hongjoong smiled, "I didn't expect a friend out of the Selection."

After eating another brownie, Hongjoong told you to wait while he got the keys from Sophie, and you sat trying to muster up your courage.

You were finally going to go to their room and not find them there, only their belongings left. You didn't know what to expect.

Hongjoong led you to the other side of the palace, stopping in front of a room you assumed was your parents. "If you really feel like not going in, I understand."

You shook your head, "Rather go in then turn around from here."

He smiled, putting in the key and turning, opening the door.

The first thing you noticed was the sunlight illuminating the white sheets on the bed, and it looked like someone had packed their belongings. You stepped in, Hongjoong behind you, turning once.

"This doesn't feel like their room anymore- everything's packed."

"Your mom's friend packed the stuff. Do you want me to leave while you look at it?"

"No- you can stay," you told him, and he took a seat, you bringing a box to the seat next to his, opening it to find your dad's clothes.

One by one, you opened the boxes- clothes, personal belongings, a few of their favourite books, and then you found a few pictures- pictures of you, pictures you had never seen. You didn't even remember half of the moments.

"You were cuter when you were little," Hongjoong laughed as he saw one of your pre-teen years.

"I admit that I was," you smiled, finding a photo album and flipping through it, Hongjoong bringing his seat closer.

You didn't realize you were crying until your tears fell on the album, and you hastily wiped your eyes, holding back a sob but failing when Hongjoong put a comforting hand on your back.

"It just... feels real, now that I'm in their room alone without them. They'd never let me come here alone," you smiled sadly.

"It's okay, let it out," Hongjoong rubbed your back as you sniffed, bursting in a sob and holding your face in your hands, Hongjoong's arm wrapping around you as he held you.

You really felt their absence now. You'd grown up away from your parents, but this was the one place you'd always be with your parents, with your dad's funny face as he cracked jokes while your mom would scold you both for being too loud.

Hongjoong handed you his handkerchief and you wiped your eyes and nose, apologizing for being a mess.

"It's okay, really," he said, "I know it's hitting now that you're here."

You nodded, another stream of tear escaping your eyes, and Hongjoong's heart ached- he had always seen you with a smile or a smirk on your face. He couldn't bear to see your eyes full of tears, pain evident on your face. He didn't realize what he was doing- he brought his hand to your face, cupping it as he wiped your tears, kissing your cheek once, drawing back rather slowly and you looked at him.

It was as if time stilled- his hand remained on your face, fingers unmoving, while the two of you stared at each other. You were the first to draw away from your trance, muttering a sorry, looking away awkwardly, staring at the distance as you wiped your face.

"Do you want to take some of these to your room?" He asked, getting up, "We can make a box and you can take that."

"That's actually a good idea," you got up, putting all the pictures and photo albums in a separate box, some of your mom's jewellery, your dad's favourite books, and then you were done. You noticed Hongjoong smiling at a picture.

"What are you looking at?"

"I think this is the most recent one," he waved it at you- he was right. It was from the time they visited your home, a candid picture of you where you were out in the sun with a hand in front of your face to block the light. Your mom was always clicking such random pictures of you. "I'm keeping this."

"You are not," you glared at him, coming forward to snatch it away from him but he only stepped back, holding it in the air, smirking playfully.

"I'm gonna frame it and keep it in my room, caption it, 'the only time she looked normal'- hey!"

Hongjoong was startled when you jumped, holding on his shoulder for support, but he took another step back, which was a mistake, and he ended up loosing his footing, his free arm automatically going around your waist for support, but he ended up falling back- thankfully on the bed-

And you on top of him.

You groaned loudly, getting up a bit and laughing loudly when you snatched the picture from him, waving it in front of his face in victory.

But he wasn't having any of that- and he really wanted to wipe the smirk off your face. He brought you closer- dangerously close- and you realized only then the position that you were in, your eyes going wide.

"You're giving me that photo back," his voice was hoarse, expressions smug.

You shook your head, putting your hand behind you, only one hand holding you up for support.

Hongjoong shook his head, muttering 'you're gonna make me regret this' as he pushed himself up and caught your lips in his, kissing you rather furiously, swallowing your surprised moan, his hand tightening around your waist as one hand snaked up your face.

He wasn't even giving you time to think or breathe as he moved his lips along yours, and you didn't realize you were responding to the kiss until you heard his own satisfied moan, your hand on his shoulder now squeezing it unconsciously, because this was wrong, this shouldn't be happening, but you didn't care in that moment, those thoughts being pushed out and out-

Hongjoong snatched the photo from you, and you thought he'd stop, but his hand went to the back of your head, guiding you along better, pushing into you until you both had switched position, your back arched very low.

You had to break apart for breath, your foreheads still joined as you both tried to catch your breath and you couldn't help but sigh at how out of breath you both were. His arms stayed around you as he drew apart, out of words as you stared at each other.

You shook your head, "All this for one photo?"

"I'm definitely framing it," he muttered.

You exhaled, licking your lips as your gaze fell on his, and you finally came to your senses, getting up and away from his warm embrace, suddenly feeling cold.

Hongjoong cleared his throat as he straightened himself, and you picked the box, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"This was definitely only because you wanted to distract me and snatch the photo, right? Because you're in a goddamn Selection, Prince Hongjoong, and Arin is my best friend and I could never do this to her."

He felt his heart twist, but he nodded, "Definitely."

The two of you knew you weren't being honest. But you decided to ignore it for now. "Let's go then. I'll be taking this to my room."

"Alright," he said, motioning you to go forward, locking the room back. As he walked you to the chamber where the girls and you were staying, he told you he was gonna go to his room.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"That was... just how many girls have you kissed?"

Hongjoong realized you basically meant he was a pro, and he threw his head back as he laughed, making you laugh as well, the ice breaking for now. "I'm not that experienced!"

You made a face that said that you were not having any of it. "Liar."

"Believe it or not, before the Selection, I've only kissed twice," he admitted, and you gasped.

"I guess you're a natural. Let's forget about this, okay? Stay focused, Prince! 16 girls waiting for your response, and I'm not one of them."

Hongjoong saluted, going back to his room- once he was inside, he slumped down with his face in his hands.

He was glad you were cool and things hadn't messed up indefinitely, but...

One thing he was sure of was that he'd never felt anything like this in his life before- and he wanted more. He wasn't sure if he could forget this.

------------------

You knew you were never going to look at Hongjoong the same way again.

Something had inevitably changed between the two of you, and though you were trying not to think of it, you were now aware of him, more than ever. And though Hongjoong was an excellent actor, you could see that he was a bit awkward too.

But maybe you two only needed time to forget that.

What you did not know was that Hongjoong was trying to forget about it, he really was. And he was busying himself in more work than usual, trying to interact with the Selected girls more, another broadcast taking place as well.

With Arin hanging out with Miyeon, you didn't have anyone to talk to- but you were scared to face Arin after that. If Arin really liked Hongjoong and was serious about it (of course she did, there were no ifs!), you had messed up. Your friendship with Arin was worth so much to you and you couldn't ruin it.

With Hongjoong busy, you spent most of the time in your room or with San- who was surprisingly very easy to talk to. You two had a lot in common, in fact, which created a very comfortable bond between you two.

You sat with San near the pond, the two of you glum as you tossed pebbles in the pond. If anyone would see you two, they'd think you'd lost a war- the amount of sighs you two were breathing were too much.

"What's got you so down?" You finally asked, "I thought you were enjoying your stay."

"I was, and I'm not ready to go back to my normal life. I need a break so bad," San sighed, looking up at the sky wistfully.

"Ah... I can't imagine going back to my normal life either now," you could relate to him- even though it had been only three days for him, he must have been needing this breather.

"I'm sure Miyeon must be crying right now, in Arin's arms," he grinned.

"You wanna cry too? I'll join," you laughed, and San shook his head.

"Why do you wanna cry?" San looked at you, and you pursed your lips.

"You ever do something that you regret?" You asked, and he scoffed.

"If there was one thing-"

"No, like," you turned to him, "It wasn't your fault. But somehow... you got involved. And it was a bad decision- there is too much at stake. And you regret that- nothing's damaged yet, but you can't forget it either."

San narrowed his eyes at you, "Is this what I think it is?"

"I don't know what you think it is, but it's not that, and no, I don't even want to hear what you think it is-"

San burst out laughing, shaking his head as he looked at you, clicking his tongue at you. "Does this involve Hongjoong?"

You opened your mouth to say no, but his eyes said he had you, and you shut your mouth. "Why do you think this involves Hongjoong?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you- and don't tell me I'm wrong. I know a man's gaze and what it means."

You bit your lip, turning your face away from him. What was going on? Was San right about this?

"Something happened between you two?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," you muttered, and San patted your back.

"There are some things in life we cannot change. But... I think we should be able to make our decisions without caring about someone else. You know what I mean? Sometimes we should put ourselves first, if the risk is worth it."

"I really don't understand what you're saying, and this... sober talking doesn't suit you at all, San."

San slapped your arm, "One day my words are gonna make sense to you. 'til then... Let's forget about this, eh?"

You glared at him, nodding as he smiled, pinching your cheek. "You're cute. I'm gonna miss you when I go back. You should visit Halaland with Arin soon- promise me."

"No promises," you huffed, and San started whining, making you cringe away and laugh as you promised.

"I don't understand what's so Princely about you. If anyone saw you whining like a little- can I curse?" San nodded and you did, "They'd strip you of your title."

"Come on, just because I'm a Prince doesn't mean I can be a little brat- and yes, I'm censoring it. You're too harsh."

"I'm stating facts-"

You heard a rustle, and the two of you frowned as you looked at the source of the sound.

It was Miyeon and Arin, hand in hand as they giggled in low voices, walking along the footpath. You almost got up to say hi, but San held you by your arm, putting a finger to his mouth as he shook his head, and you frowned, not understanding why-

You looked at Arin and Miyeon- they were too close. Miyeon was rubbing Arin's hand almost lovingly, but-

"They like each other- or so Miyeon says."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at San, then at the disappearing figure of the two, then back at San.

"Like each other? As in?"

"You know what I'm saying," San looked grim, "They like each other... and they kissed. I told her to be careful- if Arin gets caught now... she'd have to face a serious punishment."

You felt as if you were drowning as the words from the set of rules rang in your head: if any of the Selected are caught in a romantic relationship with someone else during that period, it would be considered treason and be punishable by death.

"But... they only met 3 days ago!" You frowned- it didn't make sense.

"3 days is enough to fall in love," San's tone was serious, "And you know how they clicked right away. Don't tell me you didn't know about Arin's preferences."

"She never talked to me about that," you put a hand on your head, trying to make sense of everything, "I don't know why, but... San, she was serious about this Selection. She was practically in love with Hongjoong."

"She only knew Hongjoong from afar, she was a fan. Her heart could have changed with or without Miyeon being here."

"But... this doesn't make sense, I need a minute to think," you stared at the pond as you thought about it- how Arin hadn't been too excited these days. How she hadn't seem disappointed when she had discovered that Hongjoong had kissed the other girls. How she wasn't even waiting for a date anymore, too busy since Miyeon came.

"I know it must be hard to digest- I was surprised too. This is a first for Miyeon too."

"Really?" You looked at him and he nodded, "I guess... whatever makes them happy. That means Arin would have to get dismissed from the Selection without anyone knowing what was going on. Shouldn't they be more careful?"

"It's not like they're doing anything right now," San chuckled, "It's just them finding themselves right now. They decided to wait- Arin is gonna go on with the Selection and see what she really wants. Miyeon would spend time away from her- maybe everything will change. Maybe it's just the heat of the moment. We should give them time and space to think."

"I'm kinda hurt that Arin hasn't told me anything yet," you admitted, "Miyeon told you everything?"

"She really wanted to think this through. So much could go wrong, even for her. She's a Princess. There's much to consider."

You shook your head, "Everything is so messed up."

"But it's beautifully messed up," San smiled.

And two days later, it was time for an elimination.

You wondered if Hongjoong would dismiss Arin- he had gone on another date with her last night, but not much had happened- the two had walked, you following beside, and he'd just asked Arin about her hobbies, her life before Selection, getting to know her.

If Arin was dismissed today, you'd be going home along with her. There were more girls who were confident that they'd stay today than girls who weren't.

Hongjoong entered after breakfast, scanning the girls once, his eyes falling on you for a second longer before he drew away. "Ladies, I hoped you slept well last night. Today is the inevitable elimination- only 8 of you will be staying."

The girls gasped- they hadn't expected it to cut to half already. "I'll be announcing those who are staying now."

He started calling the names- and Arin squeezed your hand out of nervousness, you squeezing back as you heard the satisfied gasps and the sobs that rang through the room.

The last name he called was Arin's- and you looked at him in surprise, finding him looking at you instead of Arin. Arin only sighed, slumping in her seat.

"I'm sorry to all those who were dismissed- I hope you live a happier, healthier life from this point on. If you have anything you want to say or ask, you can meet me in the Men's Room."

With that, he took off, leaving the 8 eliminated girls sobbing, and you couldn't help but sigh in relief- wondering what your sigh meant. Were you happy for Arin or relieved that you weren't going home?

That night, you went to the garden, not surprised when Hongjoong arrived an hour later, sighing when he saw you, sitting down with you on the bench.

"You've been busy," you smiled.

"I really wanted to talk to all of them once more before the elimination, just to be sure," he said.

"And? Feeling any sparks yet?"

"Not really," he looked down, the silver tendrils of his hair falling down on his forehead, and you admired his side profile- he really had the most unique nose you'd seen on a person- "I don't know what to do anymore."

"What do you mean?" You frowned as he looked at you, his eyes full of worry.

"In the next elimination I'm supposed to cut this down to 3. I don't think I like anyone more than the others- I really don't feel anything for them. This Selection was a bad idea- the rebels won't calm down just because I get married. They've tried attacking again, two days ago, but they couldn't enter. I don't want to end up choosing someone because she's someone's favourite- the king's, or the queen's, or the people's. I don't want to live with someone I don't love."

"I understand, Hongjoong," you put a hand on his back, "It's hard, I get it. But... I don't think you can back out of this now. You're a Prince, Hongjoong. There are so many people looking forward to this, waiting for your decision-"

"I didn't expect you to say that- you really don't understand," Hongjoong shook his head in frustration, "I think... I don't think I like any of the Selected. I like you. I want you, not them. They don't know me like you do- and I don't feel comfortable with them like I do with you."

You almost sobbed- your heart absolutely ached at his words. "Hongjoong, this isn't about us, please. I shouldn't even have been here. If I wasn't here, you would have proceeded normally with the Selection and found someone you actually liked- you probably only like me because I'm not one of them-"

"No. I like you because you're you. If you were in the Selection, I would have chosen you. If you were one of the Selected... I would have ended it today."

"Hongjoong, think again- you're the Prince. You can't be selfish-"

"Just tell me- tell me you like me too. If you do, nothing else matters," he locked his eyes with you, pain evident in them as he waited expectantly for an answer, his hand on top of yours squeezing it unconsciously.

You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in the moment, but you had to be rational, "Hongjoong, this really isn't about you and me. This is about the future Princess, who one day will be Queen. Who'll share the burden of your kingdom. I can only be your friend- I don't think I can be more."

Hongjoong's face fell, and he sighed as he looked at the sky, his hand still on yours. "Would it have been different if you had entered the Selection? Or if... if I wasn't the Prince?"

"I don't know. But Hongjoong... we've only kissed once. Please forget about that and focus on what's important. It was just in the heat of the moment, okay? You're confused- all this pressure with the Selection is making you look at me. Maybe we shouldn't even hang out anymore-"

"No- that would make it worse, I know that," he finally took his hand off yours, "Just tell me one thing. Promise me you won't lie."

You narrowed your eyes at him but his eyes were firm- he was serious. "Okay."

"No lies. Just a plain answer. A yes or no. I promise to go back to the Selection, I'll properly think this through, I promise, just don't lie."

"Okay," you laughed nervously, "What is it?"

"When we kissed... you felt something, didn't you? You still do, and you did before we kissed. Is that right?"

You scanned his face- his eyes were holding your gaze as if he could tell if you would lie. You pursed your lips, wondering how you should say it-

"Your silence says enough," a slow smile creeped up his face, "You don't need to say it. It's plain as day on your face."

"You could be imagining it, you know. You could be wrong."

Hongjoong looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear as he patted your cheek. "I don't think I'm wrong about this, dear."

-----------------

As promised, Hongjoong spent more time with the girls, going on dates and actually talking to them and getting to know the 8. Arin had another date where the two played table tennis, and you only sat back and watched, because god, you sucked at table tennis and you'd only make a scene if you tried.

After that date, Arin told you she wanted to sleep in your room tonight, and you internally smirked, wondering if she was finally going to tell you everything.

"I really don't like Hongjoong that way," she finally admitted, "And I'm sure Hongjoong doesn't like me either."

You pursed your lips, and she narrowed her eyes, "Did you suspect that already?"

"Of course I did, I'm your best friend, Arin. I saw how your interest in him kept going downfall."

"I don't even know why he decided to keep me. Perhaps he wanted to give me a chance because of the language barrier. Anyways, I'm not wife material- I can't do this. I'll just wait for the next elimination."

"Is your heart somewhere else, Miss?" You tested the waters, watching Arin's cheeks go red- it always gave her away.

"Actually, it is," she admitted, and you gasped dramatically, putting a hand over your mouth, "I'll tell you once I'm out- I want to properly introduce her to you."

"Her?" You wriggled your brows, and it was her turn to gasp, "You know?"

"San may have told me."

"San?" Arin wriggled her brows, but you laughed and shook it off, "Nothing as juicy as your story, Arin. It's best we don't talk about it here. Let's just wait to go home."

"Should I, I don't know, disappoint Hongjoong and speed it up?"

"No!" You slapped Arin's arm, "Poor guy already has it tough!"

The two of you burst into giggles, but almost screamed when the door opened loudly and a guard stepped inside.

"Rebels are inside- please follow me," he went to the right corner of the room, clicking behind a frame and opening a doorway, "Inside, now. Follow the tunnel and you'll find yourself in the room with the King and Queen and the rest of the girls."

You felt your heart sink, wondering if Hongjoong was safe, and you and Arin made your way down the dark tunnel, you leading the way, one hand in Arin's and the other feeling the tunnel out, following the dim light until it grew and you were in the large hall with the Queen huddled beside the King, only 3 girls inside so far, trembling with fear, and Arin joined them, comforting them as best as she could.

You asked one of the guards about the Prince's whereabouts and he told you he was making sure the girls were coming here before he would join, and you felt your heart fill with pride- he was really out there making sure everyone of them was safe.

It took another very long 15 minutes until one by one the girls came, Hongjoong coming in last. Some of the girls were shaken so bad that they seemed numb. Hongjoong stood beside you, staring at them as he caught his breath.

"It was an ugly fight out there- these girls witnessed it. They want to go home as soon as this is over."

"Oh," you bit your lip, "What do the rebels want, Hongjoong?"

"They probably want to overthrow us, like every other rebel in every other country. They are not ready to accept that Wonderers and Utopians could be one."

The Queen called Hongjoong over, and Hongjoong looked at you, "Come over- I should introduce you to mom and dad."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Now is the time they miss them the most."

He took you to them, and you awkwardly stood and bowed as Hongjoong told them whose daughter you were. The King smiled, saying the resemblance was uncanny, and the Queen smiled warmly at you as well, "I miss Mira the most these days. She would have had so much fun with the Selection."

"It's an honour to me that you remember my parents," you said, and they laughed as they shook a hand in dismissal.

"Your father was a fine man," the King smiled, "His sacrifice means a lot to us. We miss the two dearly, and you... You are welcome in this Palace anytime. I heard how you and my son are friends now."

You looked at Hongjoong and he grinned, "Mom was making fun of me, saying I finally made the friend that I should have made some 20 years ago."

You laughed, shaking your head as you went back to where Arin was sitting, and she put her hands on her hips.

"You, miss, have something going on with Hongjoong."

"I have nothing," you said, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Have you seen the way he looks at you? He's never looked at one of us this way," she said, referring to the Selected, "I say you've won his heart."

"Shut up, Arin, he's the Prince. I'm no one. I'm only his friend, that's it."

"Whatever you say, I can't hear this bullshit. You're both either blind as hell or stupid as fuck."

"Arin!" You widened your eyes at her language, "Etiquettes!"

She only grinned, silly dancing and you wished you could wipe that smug look off her face. But she had caught you red-handed. and you couldn't deny it now, it was too late.

You watched Hongjoong comfort the girls one by one. He really was better off with one of them, not you. You weren't princess material. You were only... you. Simple you who was only good at translating and being a friend. You couldn't allow yourself to hope, you couldn't mess everything- the whole kingdom was hanging on the Selection and who the future princess would be. You didn't want to create a mess.

You couldn't allow yourself the luxury of thinking that you could be Hongjoong's, because really, before anything else... He was too good for you. You didn't deserve him.

By the next night, 4 girls had gone home, leaving only 4- Arin, Kahi, Nayoung and Sohee. Sophie had announced that Hongjoong would make his decision and propose his choice on the live broadcast in a week from now, and now that the end was real, you found yourself more anxious than ever, and as you were making your way back to your room, you almost bumped into Hongjoong.

"Whoa, careful there," he looked at you, frowning when he saw your face etched with worry, "Something wrong?"

"No, just tired," you shrugged it off, and Hongjoong scanned your face.

"You wanna hang out tonight? Help the poor Prince relieve some stress?"

"Sure, poor Prince," you grinned, going to your room.

Before you could go down to the garden though, you heard a knock. You were still in your navy blue suit, your tie a bit loose, and you thought it was Arin coming to ask you something, but when you opened the door-

It was Hongjoong.

He scanned your figure rather slowly, taking in the loose messy hair and tie, and god, he would never get tired of seeing you in suits.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your heart sinking at the way he was looking at you.

"I just thought I'd come by and surprise you," he laughed, "and you're very surprised."

"I am," you laughed a little, allowing him to enter, "What's up?"

"I just had a meeting with everyone regarding the Selection, he slumped on your couch and you sat beside him, shifting so you faced him, "They think Kahi might be the better choice."

"Thought so," you muttered, and he laughed at the annoyance in your tone, "She's the obvious choice. Do you like her?"

"Honestly? She's okay. Tolerable. She just goes along with whatever I say. She doesn't fight back, just accepts whatever I say or give. I think she just wants to end up with me because of her strong family connection and because she could be a 'Princess'."

"Ah, here for the title, and to please you while she bathes in the royal treasure," you giggled, "Somehow, I can picture that."

"Right! I can too," he scoffed.

"But that's what everyone thinks- what do you think?"

Hongjoong bit his lips, folding his hands, "I... I don't know. Not Kahi. Not Nayooung. Not Sohee and not Arin either. I mean, I could pick anyone, but I don't think I'll ever truly be myself with them."

"That's... maybe you will, Hongjoong. It might take some time, but eventually, you'll be comfortable with them. You'll find the happiness you deserve, Hongjoong."

"I think I don't deserve happiness," he sighed, turning to look at you, "Maybe I'm damned. I don't know why I'm going through this- mom and dad had a chance and they fell in love. They didn't need a damned Selection. Why am I going through this?"

You frowned, "What's really bothering you, Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong gazed at you for a few seconds before turning as if he was in pain, "It's useless to say it out loud."

You sighed, figuring you'd give him some time to sort his thoughts out, getting up and opening your drawer, smiling at the photo before you sat back down. "You might wanna see this."

Hongjoong scooted nearer, taking the photo and frowning before bursting out in a fit of laughter, "I look like a wimp, and you look worse!"

You laughed, "I definitely look better than you. This might be the most un-princely photo of you that exists- we should frame it and hang it in the Great Hall."

"I remember this," Hongjoong smiled at the photo, "Your dad actually slapped my head and told me to act like a Prince because he wanted me to impress you- but we both ended up like this. You got an earful from your mom too, didn't you?"

"She made me do this, I didn't want to," you scoffed.

"I miss being little," Hongjoong sighed, "When I had nothing to worry about. My only worry was not being caught staring at you kids from the windows."

"You should have joined," your smile was sad as you two looked at each other.

"Don't you think we were meant to meet each other and be friends, sit here together like this?" Hongjoong's voice was low as he scanned your face, "When I'm here, with you, I feel... like Hongjoong. Not the Prince that has to put up and act."

"Should I be honoured?" You teased, but he only smiled, holding your hand.

"I'm only myself when I'm with you," he caressed your hand and you felt your stomach swoop, "I really wish I could call you mine."

You wanted to take your hand away- that was what had to be the rational thing to do, but the way he was gazing at your joined hands with his eyes full of sadness... it made you pause. He looked at you, "Have you ever wanted something or someone so much that you felt like you were nothing without it? That if you didn't get it, you'd just be an empty shell for the rest of your life?"

"Chocolate?" You shrugged, Hongjoong almost wheezing as he laughed, shaking his head, mumbling something about how you ruined the moment, but you squeezed his hand.

"I don't know, Hongjoong, but I... I think it'll be too late before I realize that I let go of the thing I wanted."

His eyes flickered with hope, "It doesn't have to be that way. If you have a chance, don't you think you should take it?"

"You know... I thought about it, Hongjoong. I wondered what it would be like to be with you," you said, making his heart sink as you looked at your joined hands, caressing his hand, "I wondered if I could really do this. If I could call you mine and sit with you like this every night," you looked at him, taking your hand away only to caress his face, "If we could talk like friends yet... be more. But Hongjoong, I'm not one of the Selected, and you can only select one of them. It's for the better."

"How is it better for me," he leaned in to your touch, "if I won't ever have something like this with someone else?"

Your smile was sad and unconvincing, and Hongjoong leaned closer, already out of breath by you words, "I'd break the rules for you. I'd accept any sort of punishment. I'd lose my title if it meant that I'd get to be with you- with you, who I love with all of my heart, because you're the one that I want."

You cupped Hongjoong's face in your hands, "I know. I know you'd do that for me. I know you love me, Hongjoong, and I... I love you too." You gave yourself a moment to scan Hongjoong's face who couldn't have looked more relieved, "But you're a Prince. You have a whole kingdom to look after. Every subject of yours is waiting for an opportunity for you to slip, to make a mistake, so they can use that excuse and destroy your kingdom. You understand that, don't you?"

Hongjoong hesitated before nodding, taking your hands away from his face, holding them as he looked down and thought about it. "It's cruel that you told me you love me only to let me go."

"I'm sorry for that," your eyes teared, "We're not meant to be."

When Hongjoong leaned in to kiss you, you didn't stop him, tears rolling down your cheeks as he kissed you softly, his hands holding your face as if it was fragile, and when he drew back, his own eyes were glazed as he wiped your eyes.

"I only have one week," he began, "please don't let me be alone for this week. I don't want to let go of you without knowing what it could be like if you were mine."

You shook your head but he squeezed your hand as if telling you that it was alright, "One week, that's all I ask. Forget about everything else, forget about the stupid Selection and the fact that I'm a Prince. Just be mine for this week, please."

"And you'll let me go? After one week?" You looked at him, and he nodded.

"If that's what you want."

You leaned in to hug him- your answer. You sat in his arms for a few minutes, holding him as if someone would snatch him away from you if you let him go. "One condition."

"What?" He was caressing your hair.

"Please don't contact me after the Selection is over. I won't want you to be unfaithful to your wife because of me. And... I'd need time but I'll move on too. But please... don't contact me, Hongjoong."

He held you tighter, his heart screaming against this but he nodded, and you sighed.

Tonight was all about sweet lies anyway.

He held you for a few minutes longer, then kissed your forehead and told you that he'd be back tomorrow, that he'd be wasting no moment from now on and that he'd like it if the two of you weren't so sad every time you met, and you laughed, promising him and yourself that you'd make the most of this one week.

But tonight, you'd cry. You didn't know how long you sat on your couch and cried silently until Arin slipped inside your room, gasping in surprise and sitting beside you asking what was wrong and you cried your heart out for the first time in Arin's arms, and she shushed you as she held you and comforted you.

"You should tell me what happened before I pass away out of worry," she frowned.

You told her then. You told her that you hadn't meant for this to happen, that you two were just friends- until you two were so comfortable with each other and realized it must be love. Though Arin was listening somberly at first, she was nearly laughing by the end of this.

"I fucking knew it!" She clapped, and you resisted the urge to choke her, "I knew the way Hongjoong looked at you was different! He's smitten by you, and you were blind!"

"Arin, I'm trying hard not to cry again, you're making this worse," you said but ended up laughing because she was too excited.

"I say fuck the Selection! Fuck this kingdom! He should choose you-" Arin was interrupted by you putting a hand over her mouth and telling her to tone it down before anyone heard and got you two kicked out.

"I'm serious, though," Arin insisted, "Hongjoong like you, you like him. Simple. Who cares about the Selection? He should marry you. He should put himself first. What has this Kingdom given him anyway? A damned burden! If the people really cared about their Prince, they'd let him marry whoever he wants."

"It's too complicated, Arin, you don't understand," you said, shaking your head, "If it was as easy, I wouldn't have been sitting here crying."

Arin bit her lip, thinking. She really wanted to lift your spirits, which was why she kept joking around, knowing you always gave in after a while of wanting to kill her. "Well, at least I'm able to joke because I'm not involved in this. Can't you see? It was meant to be. Me meeting Miyeon, deciding Hongjoong wasn't for me- I know if that hadn't happened, you wouldn't have even looked at Hongjoong that way- or allowed this."

"Maybe Miyeon shouldn't have come. You would be getting selected next week then."

"Come on, that's not the point," Arin waved a hand, "Just... forget about everything else and make most of this week. We'll figure something out."

"There's no figuring this out," you sighed, "I've just prepared myself for the biggest heartbreak of my life."

------------------

It was both painful and lovely to be with Hongjoong- a brush of your hands as you bumped into each other in the hallway, stolen kisses in secret, winks sent across the room- really, you two were making it obvious. But since Arin was with you most of the times, the remaining girls thought it was Arin who was getting this special treatment, and they were upset because of that.

But you couldn't care less. You had one week, and you wouldn't let anyone come in between that.

In the days, Hongjoong was mostly busy, making sure he spent some time with the girls too so that no one would suspect. Each night, Hongjoong and you would walk in the gardens, hands brushing playfully as you talked just like usual. And two nights later, Hongjoong led you to a secret room in the palace through the tunnels.

"I'm pretty sure no one knows of this room," he told you as he lit the candles, "I used to explore the secret passages, leave a string of thread along."

"Hongjoong!" You gasped, "You could have gotten lost! How careless could you be? Imagine if someone found your bones here after years of searching-"

"Well, I'm here," he blew the matchstick away, turning to you, "And I need you to shut up for a bit."

You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you in for a lazy kiss, your arms automatically going to his chest.

"I could never get tired of this," Hongjoong mumbled, tracing his nose along your cheeks as he breathed, "I could do this all day and all night."

"Shut up," you slapped his chest lightly, suddenly feeling shy and Hongjoong grinned at that, kissing your cheek and trailing his lips down to your neck, and you gladly let him take control. He was taking his sweet time, rocking you back and forth as he played with your neck. When he drew up, he smiled as he scanned your face. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," you shrugged, but he brought you closer, tucking your hair behind your ears as he whined, making you roll your eyes, "Thinking about how it started."

"Hmm," Hongjoong brought you to the couch, making you sit in his lap as he played with your hair, "Totally unexpected?"

"Totally," you laughed, "I was... so happy for Arin. She really, really was in love with you, Hongjoong- or so she thought."

"I think her situation is more surprising than ours," Hongjoong shook his head, "But I have to thank her for not being in love with me."

You laughed at that, "It would have been a mess if she was still in the game." You had told Hongjoong about Arin's situation, and he had suggested that she wait until the Selection was over and lay low for a good few months before going to Miyeon or anyone else for that matter since all eyes would be on the last few candidates for a good while. "But you know what? I think I would have fallen for you anyway. I think it wasn't because of Arin being involved or not."

"Ah," Hongjoong grinned, "Is that so?"

"I really wanted to meet you, you know. And when you caught me the first night in the gardens- I think that's how everything changed, no?"

Hongjoong's smile was sad this time, and you kissed him, "We promised not to be sad anymore."

"I can't help it," he cupped your face, "How will I be able to let you go after this? How will I ever be okay after knowing what it feels like to be in love and letting it go? What kind of a prince I am if I can't even choose my princess?"

You ran your hand through his hair lovingly, caressing his cheekbone, "I feel like this is enough- if I ask for more, I'll be selfish. The fact that we are here now... that's a blessing in itself. I can't be selfish with you, Hongjoong."

The two of you stared at each other for the longest time as if memorizing each other, tracing each other's face, and you spent hours just talking about this or that or kissing each other or teasing- it was just so natural. And throughout the night, Hongjoong held you close, making you lose your mind as he kissed you like it was his last time- and it very well might have been. Each passing night of this short week had you two getting more desperate to be with each other and feel each other, skin on skin had nothing on you.

And each passing day made you weaker inside- you really had grown used to the palace and everyday life here and most importantly, Hongjoong. You promised not to be sad in front of Hongjoong but whenever you were alone (mostly Arin there to hold you), you were crying. Sometimes it was silent tears rolling down your face, sometimes hysteric crying- even Momo, Mina and Sana were worried for you, though they were kind enough not to intrude on your privacy and ask.

It was your last night here- the last time you'd be in Hongjoong's arms. Everything was going to change tomorrow.

You sat waiting for Hongjoong in your room, staring at the moon through the window, barely holding it all in. You were afraid you were gonna break down when you saw Hongjoong.

But when the knock sounded, you immediately knew it was not Hongjoong. And when you opened the door, your jaw almost dropped as you bowed.

"Your Majesty- you could have called for me."

The Queen patted your cheek- she was in a very casual attire, as if she had just decided to come to your room. You had a billion thoughts in your head but only one question- what the hell was going on?

"Please, do sit and be comfortable," the Queen said, "I wanted to see you and have a little talk."

You scanned her face- she was smiling as if she knew something. She laughed at your expressions and began, "I know you must be confused. But I had to see the reason why my son was waking up with puffy eyes these days."

She knew.

"Your Majesty- I... I'm sorry-"

"Oh no," the Queen waved a hand in dismissal, "I'm not here to scold you, dear. Hongjoong doesn't know of this, neither did he say anything, but he's my dear son, and I could see something was weighing him down. It looked like he had lost a war."

You bit your lips, "How did you know then?"

The Queen laughed, "I knew you were friends, dear. But I also saw the way he looked at you- and the way you looked at him. Now what kind of a mother would I be if I couldn't recognize the look in my son's eyes? Your King looks at me the same."

You smiled at that, "So... I don't know what to do, I... I told Hongjoong to go on with the Selection. I told him that his kingdom is more important and that he has to consider his subjects before he makes a hasty decision. And he'll go on with this decision. I'll be here no more tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, dear," the Queen's face was sad, "if it were anyone else, maybe I wouldn't have understood. But since it's you... I can see why Hongjoong loves you, dear. Your mother and father were great people. They've taken our secrets to the graves. But they were also our friends, and me and my husband had love for them as a friend would. They cherished you, their only child. I'm sure they would be so proud of you if they were alive today."

You wiped your eyes and the Queen got up, putting a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "Sometimes, the future has things stored for us that we do not expect. Do not be sad. You are my pick, honey. And tomorrow... stay, until the announcement. I have to give you something."

You nodded, surprised at her words but also confused at how cryptic she was being. She patted your cheek and left the room, and only a few minutes had passed, you still thinking about the Queen when Hongjoong knocked and entered, and you instantly knew that he had no knowledge of the Queen's visit.

You got up, going to his arms and silently hugging him. There were no tears left to cry now. It was only silence- comfortable sad silence surrounding you two as you hugged for the longest time.

"Can I hold you tonight?" Hongjoong drew back a bit, caressing your face, and you saw it then- his eyes, as puffy and red as yours. Anyone would have known, really.

You nodded and he led you to the bed, taking his jacket off and sliding inside the covers, spreading them over you both as you lay half seated in each other's arms, your head on his chest hearing his heart in sync with yours, his arm around you as he played with your hair- a habit of his.

"You're quiet today," you muttered, looking up at him- laughing a bit when you saw him pouting.

"I don't feel like talking tonight," he pouted again, "I'll listen tonight if you want to do the talking."

"Hmm," you shifted, "not even silly retorts or dad jokes?"

"I'll try to hold them back," he finally laughed, and you kissed him slowly, smiling into it.

"Let's not be sad tonight, Hongjoong," you kissed his cheek, "I don't want the last thing I remember of you to be your swollen eyes."

"I think that's quite a pretty sight to remember," he grinned and you shook your head, kissing him when he nodded, his hand going behind your neck as the kisses got more desperate and picked speed, losing all composure and calm because really, you were kissing like this because it was your last time.

You let Hongjoong cry as he kissed you, and you only realized your face was wet with your own tears when he wiped them away, never breaking apart. You both were smiling into the kiss anyway. And when Hongjoong and you lay in each other's arms, Hongjoong muttered something in your ear repeatedly that had you smiling like a kid.

"Can you stop calling me your princess?" You cringed back, his breath making you tickle and laugh way too hard, "It's getting annoying!"

"But you are the queen of my heart," Hongjoong mumbled it in your ear on purpose, making you giggle and slap his bare shoulders. "Ah, you're getting naughty."

"I'm not! You're making me- hey!" You were interrupted as he turned so he was on top of you, his eyes now dark and changed, making your stomach flutter dangerously.

"You wanna do that again?" He challenged, smirking.

"Do what- this?" You slapped his arm, acting innocent, and he laughed out loud at your antics, pinching your cheek because you were being way too cute, and then kissing you.

"You don't let me breathe, woman," he muttered, falling back on bed and bringing you closer.

You trailed your finger down his chest suggestively, "Don't you like this? Should I let you breathe once in a while?"

He shook his head- he'd had enough of you. He held your face as he muttered something in your ear that made you go red and your knees go weak. And then he acted upon it, making love to you, the two of you trying to push the thought that this was your last night together but it leaked in to your actions as he kissed you desperately, as you ran your hands all over his body like you were deprived of his touch, as you held each other throughout the night.

------------------

The two of you slept in each other's arms, though when you woke up, his absence hit you so hard that you were screaming into your pillow. You had never felt so alone.

Gathering yourself for an act for the last time, you washed your face and let the girls do your makeup, Arin watching you sadly. You put on the deep red suit that Hongjoong loved so much, wondering if you would ever be able to wear suits again since it would be a constant reminder of your short time here.

You only drank coffee to keep you going, waiting in the Women's Room for the staff to call you to the broadcasting room where Hongjoong would announce his wife- the future princess of Wonderland. You suddenly felt nauseous- you couldn't watch that.

You wouldn't be able to.

You told Arin, and she understood, hugging you once, nice and good, but when she drew back, she was smiling.

"I am so proud of you," she patted your cheeks, "You'll get through this."

The ladies were escorted to the broadcast room, and you stayed behind, surprised beyond anything again when the Queen arrived, this time with Hongjoong.

"I told you I'd be back with something," the Queen smiled, and you looked at Hongjoong- even he was confused. She took off her wedding ring and handed it to Hongjoong- "Your decision, my son. It's time you think for yourself, as Hongjoong. Leave the kingdom to us."

You gaped at them, Hongjoong equally surprised, "But- father-"

"Your father is okay with this and he would have been here with me but he's handling the broadcast right now," she patted his back, "Go on, we don't have all day. If she is your happiness, then choose her. I don't want you to have regrets, son, and I don't want you to hate your parents who made you go with this Selection when they themselves didn't."

Hongjoong looked at you, then back at his mother, then finally smiled the most happy smile you'd seen on him so far, "You know, I had a ring of my own today. You beat me to it, mother."

You had to look away as you laughed and pinched your nose because Hongjoong pulled out his own ring, "I was going to go on with this anyway- I was going to tell you before you dragged me here, mother, you nearly gave me a heart attack! You should have warned me!"

"You should have warned me!" The Queen laughed, "Can you imagine the chaos if I hadn't made the connection and taken care of everything beforehand!"

"Unbelievable," you muttered, laughing through your tears, "Your Majesty... are you sure I deserve this?"

"My dear, you deserve to be Hongjoong's wife. The Princess thing- anyone can learn that, but I think the only person who could ever truly make him happy is you. Look at him smiling like an idiot- I have never seen him smile like that, and I am his mother!"

You nearly fell with relief, shaking your head in disbelief as Hongjoong stood in front of you, the Queen leaving you two. "So... can we stop crying and start being happy now?"

You laughed, shaking your head again as Hongjoong hugged you, sighing into it, "I told you last night. That you are meant to be my princess."

"Did you already have this planned out?" You looked at him, and he shook his head.

"All I did the whole week during my spare time was research over the past Selection laws, find a loophole, anything. But then mother came today and said that some laws needed to change anyway, so I better not disappoint her with my choice- you know you are her pick after all."

"I suddenly feel like I was one of the Selected all along," you groaned, "What about the girls?"

"Mom will break it to them. But enough about them-" Hongjoong drew back, taking out the two rings, "Which one are you gonna choose, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes, pretending to consider before putting both hands in the air, and Hongjoong slid his mother's ring on your right hand and his own in your left hand, kissing your knuckles before looking at you, and holding your face, kissing your lips so gently it felt like it was your first kiss, not quite able to draw back right away.

You only had a moment to yourself before Arin, not so ceremoniously, ran inside, squealing excitedly and hugging you and Hongjoong altogether, crying from happiness, saying she had 'too much of your sad ass' and scolding Hongjoong for not coming up with this earlier, which, even though you did not translate, he understood very well, apologizing as he laughed.

The staff called Hongjoong for the official announcement and he squeezed your hand, nudging you to come along. Arin took off her diamond studded hairpin, clipping it to your hair.

"Go show them who's the real queen."

You put your arm in Hongjoong's, walking proudly for the first time in your life.

1 year ago

Private Professor - Max Verstappen

Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!

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Private Professor - Max Verstappen

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.

It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other's arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.

Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.

It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.

Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.

“No girlfriend?” Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?” “Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing. “I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.

He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.

It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.

The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.

His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.

They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.

She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.” “Four?” “We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”

It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.

His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.

“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”

Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?

Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.

Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.

It was them wrapped up in each other's arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.

Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.

It also leads to their biggest fight in years.

“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!” “And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.” She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it's always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.” “Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.” “Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?” “You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they're both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”

“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?” He nods. “For our future kids?” “Yes.” “So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds. He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.” “Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that. “Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.” “I want to pay for any of the kids' interests. Like art, ballet or karting.” “No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses. “Unless,” he encourages. “If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.” “No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.” “Their first degree.” He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?” Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.” His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.” “First degree only.” She agrees.

It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?” She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.” “Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.” “Not anytime soon at least.” “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.

The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.

So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.

She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.

The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.

It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.

Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.

“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.

“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone. “No.” Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,” “No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.” “I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears. “You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.” “Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs. “I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.” “Thank you.” “Of course.”

When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.

Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.

“You’re drunk.” “You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him. “You’ve been crying.” “Yeah.” He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.” “Yeah.” He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?” “That bad.” She nods.

At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.

“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly. “You’re going to marry me.” She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”

It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.

“I know I proposed early.” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.” “Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours. “Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.” “Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.” “Actually,” “Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?” She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it. “Well, what did it say? The email.” “Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide. “You know what that means right?” He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her. “I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.” Blue eyes widen. “And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”

Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.

It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.

“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.” His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread. “That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.” “How I want to?” “Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.” “I’m not going to be cruel.” “No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.” His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?” She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”

She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.

He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.

It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.

He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.

“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver's debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera. “Charles. Safe flight?” “Always. What do you have there?” “Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?” He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.

“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously. He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.” Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.” Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.

“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page. “The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says. “Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?” Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.

“Your engagement?” “Your what?” “Engaged?” “Impossible.” “Lies.”

The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.

“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it. He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.

When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.

“Is this real?” Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.” “You’re really engaged.” “Yes, Christian. I am.” The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?” “What?” “The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.” “No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption. The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.

“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice. “Yes.” “And I never believed you.” He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else's. “No.” Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.” “Thank you.” “But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?” Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”

They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.

Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“You alright?” She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.” Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.” “A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.

Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.

“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?” Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.” “It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max. “Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side. Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?” “Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him. Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.” “Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.” “Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles. “It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything. “Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “It’s not.” She assures.

Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.

“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.” She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.” Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down. “Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it. She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.” A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.” Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.

It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.

“You told them you're a teacher.” “I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let's not make a big deal out of it.” “I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look. But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.” “So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?” Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”

Private Professor - Max Verstappen

@cixrosie @darleneslane @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @fanboyluvr @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @benstormy @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @boiohboii @topguncultleader

1 year ago

Would Lamb like listening to Narinder's heartbeat and vice versa?

I would say so~

Would Lamb Like Listening To Narinder's Heartbeat And Vice Versa?

As for vice versa..

Would Lamb Like Listening To Narinder's Heartbeat And Vice Versa?
2 years ago

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

a cursed mortal, a lonesome Dream Lord, and a story spanning one thousand years.

content warnings: angst, slowburn/slowbuild, mutual pining, dream being dream.

⏳ playlist | corinthian & wanderer playlist | pinterest board | inspo tag & asks | ao3 |

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

🌙  CHAPTER INDEX

YEAR 0-200

YEAR 200-300

YEAR 304

YEAR 304-521

YEAR 522

YEAR 522-619

YEAR 619-850

YEAR 916-994

YEAR 1021 I

YEAR 1021 II

BEYOND.

➥ BONUS CONTENT:

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ONE SHOTS:

inside of you, in spite of you ⋅⋆ ── [the corinthian-centric one shot, coming soon]

midas touch ⋅⋆ ── [dream & wanderer smut, coming soon]

dreamfalling into nightmares ⋅⋆ ── [corinthian & wanderer, dreamfall]

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ DRABBLES/BLURBS:

"I wonder what I look like in your eyes."

"I broke my rules for you."

“My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”

“You were worth the wait.”

"If I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop."

“I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.”

when wanderer met destruction

goodbye, stardust.

s t a y.

"lady dream."

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

currently accepting headcanon/drabble requests and discussions for this series, feel free to send something in!

P.S. I do not do tag lists, if you want to keep up with this fic, please bookmark this post or follow me directly, thank you.

5 years ago

Masterlist

My Masterlist, I am always taking requests: Acotar, My Hero Academia, She-ra, Voltron, Haikyuu, Venom, Kamisama Kiss, Legacies, Vampire Diaries, The Originals, Percy Jackson, Greek and Egyptian Gods.

Will add on with more as time goes on!

———————————————————————————————————–

ACOTAR Lovers of Shadow (Azriel x Fem Reader): Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

I Make Things (Lucien x Reader (One-Shot): Chapter 1

My Hero Academia  Chained To Him (Bakugou x Fem Reader): Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Dabi x Hero In Training Reader: Chapter 1  Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4  Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Love Isn’t An Illusion (TodoBakuReader): Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Black Panther:  A True Warrior (M’Baku x Fem Reader (Oneshot)): Chapter 1

She-ra  Home Is Where The Heart Is (Catdora(One-Shot)): Chapter 1

1 year ago

you’re on your own, kid // mercedes

You’re On Your Own, Kid // Mercedes

summary: to quote her mentor, it’s been a shit fucking day at the office. she doesn’t want to go home alone, and needs a few shoulders to cry on.

pairing: platonic!mercedes amg f1 team x female reader

warnings: *existential crisis intensifies*. talk of loneliness and romantic problems, anxiety. y/n is very emotional and sensitive. I do a lot of projecting because I just want to be comforted. we jokingly bully paul aron a little bit.

author's note: the only explanation i have for this is sad girl fall

"mr. bonnington?" she shouted, dashing across the factory floor to catch up to the race engineer, a stack of papers in her hands.

peter bonnington smiled at the young intern, taking the sheaf of papers patenting the new suspension system being used in the silver arrows for next season. "mr. bonnington was my father. please, y/n, call me bonno. everybody else does. you're one of us now."

"am i? i just work in legal. i don't even get to travel." she said it jokingly, but it was another reminder that she didn't truly fit in with the team, that nothing she did would make her good enough.

"yeah, and you don't get the stress and jet lag that goes along with it." bonno looked at her knowingly. "you're going to do great things here. just you wait and see."

but y/n didn't fully believe him. she wasn't even a proper lawyer, just the clerk. the glorified errand-girl.

she carried that bad feeling in her stomach all day. while she was sitting at her desk typing reports, watching through the windows as the engineers laughed with each other. while she sorted contracts and blueprints and watched the drivers talking with each other on their way to the simulator room. the junior drivers, kimi antonelli and paul aron, one a year younger than she was, the other two full calendar years and three months. just kids, already more successful and well known than y/n would ever be.

and she realized that she never truly felt like she fit in, and then she was going to go home and sit alone with her feelings over a frozen dinner.

as soon as the clock hit five, she grabbed her backpack and her coat and she was out of the office in a flash, headphones in as she bit back tears.

she made it to the edge of the parking lot before she started crying, sitting down on the edge of one of the decorative rocks. the tears ran down her face and she knew she looked like a fool sitting in the parking lot and bawling her eyes out, but her mother always told her that emotions were better out than in.

she didn't know how long she had been there when something brought her back to the present moment. the press of a paw on her leg, a deep bark that cut through the music she was listening to. the gentle pressure of a hand on her shoulder.

she looked down, taking out one of her earbuds as she reached down to scratch roscoe hamilton behind the ears, turning her head to see the bulldog's owner, the one and only lewis hamilton, standing next to the rock where she was sitting.

"are you alright, y/n? you look upset."

she shook her head, wiping her eyes and trying to regain composure. "you know who i am?"

"of course. we met when your lawyer did that tour of the factory floor."

"i didn't think the higher ups would remember somebody like me."

lewis smiled, taking a seat next to her on the rock, lifting roscoe up so she could hold the bulldog in her arms. "do you want to talk about it?"

"it's been a day, lewis. it's been a day. i'm struggling to fit in here, even though this field placement is literally the dream to me. i've loved this team since before i could walk, and i feel like an outsider every time that i walk through the factory doors."

lewis comfortingly put his hand on her arm. "what can we do to help?"

"i don't know. i think that i'm the problem, lewis. i don't know how to talk to people, and i always think they're judging me behind my back. i'm not a people person, and i think it's just as simple as that."

roscoe whined in her lap, nudging his head into her stomach. she laughed scratching the bulldog behind the ears.

"roscoe seems to like you. and if roscoe likes you, you can't be that bad."

"i'm just lonely, lewis. it's my first year away from home, and i've never been alone for this long before."

lewis was about to say something when another voice cut through the air.

"oi, lewis, mate, what are you doing out here in the cold?"

they both turned around. lewis waved the other man over, and soon enough, george russell was sitting on her other side, a concerned look on his face.

"are you alright, love? you look like you've been crying."

"thanks for the reminder." she sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sweater. "i'm y/n, i work in legal."

"nice to meet you, y/n. i'm george, but you know that already, i bet."

lewis patted her gently on the shoulder. "y/n was just saying that she doesn't feel like she fits in here."

george's eyes widened. "that can't be true. come on now, we aren't that bad company, are we?"

y/n laughed, shaking her head. "i've just always struggled with the social aspect. and now i get to go home and be lonely over a good book and a frozen dinner from sainsburys."

lewis raised his eyebrows. "really? a pretty, bright young thing like you must have someone to come home to."

"you know how it is. you grow older and you lose touch with friends, they move away destined for better things and you're still stuck in the same place that you were before because your anxiety is so bad that you can't bear to move away from home and leave behind everything you thought you knew. this is my first time living on my own. i moved out of my parent's house and into a small little flat that i can barely afford."

she stopped and took a deep breath.

i will not cry in front of the most important members of this fucking team.

"with every day that goes by where i don't meet that person, that person who's going to love me unconditionally, that person who's going to tell me i'm gorgeous and kiss me softly and want to spend the rest of their life with me, i get scared that it's never going to happen for me. i'm scared of being alone."

"woah, is there a party out here that i wasn't invited to?" nyck de vries was bundled up from head to toe against the british fall, the wind ruffling his hair as he shrunk his already small body back into the down jacket that swamped his body. "room for one more?"

"if you can fit on the rock, you're welcome to join us." y/n smiled, grateful for the company as she shifted to create room for the reserve driver.

"nyck'll fit, he's tiny anyways." george laughed as the dutch driver joined the trio.

"fuck off, russell. we can't all be tall. being short is awesome anyways, i don't know what you're talking about. so, what are we talking about? boys? inter-office gossip?"

"how about the ever present fear of dying alone having never experienced being in love." y/n said shortly, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her knuckles. "yeah, it's a heavy one."

"i'm sorry, how old are you?"

"almost twenty."

"that's way too young to be having an existential crisis like this, mate. you have your whole life ahead of you."

"it will happen when it's meant to. the world has a funny way of working in the ways you least expect it." lewis said gently, taking her small hand in his larger one. "and in the mean time, you have the three of us."

"i can set you up with some of the f2 guys." nyck suggested. "i mean, it's been a while since i was a part of that world, but there's got to be a few of them left around that could help out."

"absolutely not. i'm not sicking an f2 driver on the poor girl." lewis laughed. "you of all people should know how wild they are."

"would you rather i set her up with a formula e driver? i'd say that they're worse."

"what about clement?" george suggested. "i think you'd love novalak, he's a riot."

"he's friends with lando." lewis reminded his teammate.

"right, maybe he's not the best fit for someone so sweet and quiet. paul, maybe?"

"paul is eighteen years old, george." y/n reminded through a laugh. "i'm not dating a literal child."

"what's this about dating?"

at the sound of the team principal's voice, all conversation ceased as the drivers turned to look at their boss. "hey toto." they chorused in almost terrifying unison.

"your drivers are trying to find me a boyfriend."

toto raised his eyebrows. "and they suggested paul? i wouldn't wish that boy on anybody. his brother might be a good fit though. a nice boy with a respectable job on the pit wall."

"leave the poor girl alone, toto." susie laughed, smacking her husband on the arm. "me and angela are the only people allowed to send her on dates, you hear me?"

"yes, susie." the three drivers said in unison, laughing among themselves.

y/n already felt better.

"hey, y/n," george offered. "we were all about to go for a night out, lewis was taking us bowling, we were probably also going to get some pizza or something. did you want to come with us? i'd hate for you to go home sad."

y/n smiled. "actually, yeah. i'd like that a lot."

"come on, then!" susie smiled, helping y/n up from the rock and putting her arm around the younger girl. "you look like you need some girl time."

"oi, susie!" nyck shouted with a laugh. "don't go stealing her from us now!"

and suddenly, even if it was just for a night, she felt like things were going to be okay again.

maybe she wasn't as lonely as she thought she was.

maybe she wasn't on her own after all.

1 year ago

Astarion’s Hair: A Comic

Edit: there is now a part 2

Astarion’s Hair: A Comic
Astarion’s Hair: A Comic
Astarion’s Hair: A Comic
Astarion’s Hair: A Comic
Astarion’s Hair: A Comic
Astarion’s Hair: A Comic

(Edited to increase text size for readability)

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Give up on your dreams and die - Levi

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