Last Man

Last Man

Hoseok's been sent to investigate a murder in a small town, where he meets you, trying to keep everything around you from falling apart.

Pairing: Hoseok x F! reader

Genre: Non-idol, police detective AU, smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing, sex, murder, mentions of blood, non-graphic violence, investigative police work

Tagging: @lost-lospandos Here's cop Hoseok!

Hoseok’s had a long day, and it looks nowhere close to being over. He’s been ordered down to this one-horse town by his direct superior, assistant director Joan Kim, to look into a murder.

As far as he knows, Joan isn’t just in it to torture him, so there’s more to this than meets the eye. It would have been great if just this one fucking time Joan could give him the information instead of waiting for him to find it out himself, but he’s got to admit she’s consistent if nothing else.

He parks his car outside the police station, taking a moment to look in the mirror and wish he’d taken the time to change prior to driving here.

He’s wearing a black cashmere sweater, not a colour he normally wears, but his sister had convinced him he’d look suave and sophisticated for his date.

His date, a woman who took one look at him and called him for the cop he is and then asked nervously if he had done a background check on her. The date had gone downhill from there.

He hadn’t even had a chance to have dessert, and if he’d been a smarter man he’d have downed the rest of his wine to be over the legal limit for driving down here the instant he got the call.  

As it is, he’s sexually frustrated, hungry and too fucking sober for this.

Hoseok forces himself to stop sulking and get his ass out the car, because the sooner he gets to the bottom of this, the sooner he can get back to his lonely-ass life back home.

He braces himself as he walks across the car park to the entrance of the station. Local detectives, especially in towns like this, are classically hostile to state detectives. He’s used to it, used to the sideways glances, the barely civil mutterings and today he’s on his last nerve.

The first person he sees as he walks in is you, and he almost walks right past you until you stand in his way.

‘Special Agent Jung Hoseok?’ you ask.

Hoseok nods politely because he’s got manners, but he’s already looking beyond you for the detective who’s meant to meet him.

‘I’m Detective Y/N L/N,’ you say, persistent.

Finally, Hoseok looks at you.

Usually, local detectives wear uniform in towns like this.

You’re wearing a slinky black dress and heels that make him wish your beautiful legs were wrapped around him.

He’s one to talk, in his black cashmere and dress trousers.

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I wasn’t expecting –’

‘Yeah, I was on a date,’ you say briskly, leading him to your office.

‘Me too,’ Hoseok says.

‘Yeah? Was yours going well?’ you ask, throwing him a friendly smile.

‘Not particularly,’ he replies, honest.

‘Mine either,’ you admit.

Hoseok wonders what kind of fool would mess up a date with you.

You brief him on the case whilst coffee brews in the staffroom across the way.

Hoseok clicks through the crime scene photos on your desktop as you give him the details.

‘The victim was a waitress at the diner down the street, a college student on summer break. She was found in an alley a few streets down three hours ago. The ME’s doing the post-mortem as we speak, but it looks like blood loss from multiple stab wounds.’

Hoseok’s waiting for you to get to the point, because so far there isn’t anything about this case that necessitates state involvement. Why is he here?

It’s like you can sense his impatience, because you say, ‘It’s the third murder in as many days, all the same MO, all young women in the street, all stabbed to death.’

Bingo.

Hoseok sits up straighter. ‘Three murders in three days?’ he asks, voice betraying his concern.

You nod. ‘Technically the last two were within 18 hours of each other.’

Shit. You haven’t just got a serial killer, you’ve also got an escalating pattern of violence. Hoseok doubts you have enough manpower in your force to deal with this, especially not with the time constraint.

He can feel the familiar rush of adrenaline through his bloodstream, the urgency of the situation finally galvanising him out of his sulky, sex-deprived, hungry funk.

This is where he comes in.

‘I’m going to need to make a few calls,’ he says.

***

Hoseok looks out of the window as you drive, street-lights giving him flashes of the town in between swathes of darkness.

So far, nothing seems to stand out about this place apart from the fact there’s a serial killer in your midst and that you’re the best detective he’s had the pleasure of working with in a while.

And it is a pleasure working with you, you’re smart and thoughtful and you don’t seem to have a chip on your shoulder about working with ‘the asshole from state’ as he’s heard himself charmingly referred to in the past.

You’ve changed out of your slinky dress into standard issue khakis and an oversized jacket, which means he can be less careful about where his eyes land when he’s thinking.

Thank God for small favours.

The first crime scene is still taped off, you look at him apologetically as you lift it for him to duck under.

‘My forensics team are on the way, so it’s good that it’s still taped off, for what it’s worth,’ Hoseok says, reassuring. It’s unlikely anything now will be admissible as evidence, given it’s a public location and he knows as well as anyone that a bit of tape never stopped anyone from going anywhere.

‘At least they’ll be able to spot the crime scene,’ you say, straight-faced.

Hoseok isn’t sure if you’re joking or not but it’s funny so he laughs anyway.

He puts you out of his head as he surveys the crime scene. He’s observant, he knows he reads a crime scene better than most. At first glance, there’s nothing that stands out here, the blood splatter on the walls correlates to the deepest pool of blood, the signs of a struggle fit with what he’d expect.

You tilt your head, secure in the knowledge you’ve not missed anything obvious in your investigation. ‘The next crime scene is half a block away.’

Hoseok falls into step beside you as you lead him to the next location.

He’s thinking, trying to put himself in the killer’s headspace, concentrating so hard it takes him a couple of seconds to realise you’re speaking.

He looks at you blankly.

You hold up your phone. ‘A call’s just come in – a domestic, I need to take it. Jungkook’s on the way but he hasn’t been doing this long.’

Hoseok nods. ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘You sure?’ you ask, but you’re already jogging back in the direction of the car.

Hoseok knows you’re still waiting on the post-mortems on the last two victims, and although it’s not ideal, without a lead, you might as well be answering call-outs.

You’re pulling up to the house, cutting the engine, when a loud crash resonates through the darkness.

Hoseok’s out the car, muscle memory from years of being a cop over-riding his natural instincts, allowing him to run towards the danger instead of away.

He’s in the open door, assessing the tableau in front of him in seconds. A man, grappling with an officer, a woman crouched beside an overturned table. Hoseok’s looking for any signs of children, and he huffs a sigh of relief when he sees none.

You’re already next to the woman, and although you’d been worried about Jungkook, he seems more than capable of bringing the man in.

Jungkook ushers the man into the back of his squad car, and gives Hoseok a suspicious look.

‘Are you the date?’ he asks.

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok says, before his brain engages.

‘If you fuck with Y/N, you fuck with all of us,’ Jungkook says, a snarl on his lips.

‘This is Special Agent Jung Hoseok,’ you say, voice exasperated. ‘Stand down, Officer Jeon.’

Hoseok doesn’t have any time to enjoy the flummoxed look on Jungkook’s handsome face because you’re slapping a hand on his back, hard.

‘Am I going to have trouble with you?’ you ask. Your voice is stern, but there’s the slightest twitch to your lips, like you’re suppressing a smile.

‘No, ma’am,’ Hoseok replies immediately, because he’s not a complete idiot.

‘Good. Let’s get back to the crime scene,’ you say.

***

The clock above the steel gurney shows the time as 4am.

Hoseok’s switched from coffee to water because his heart feels like it’s about to burst from fatigue.

You’re leading the discussion with the ME, a serious-looking man who introduced himself as Dr Kim. You’ve been calling him Namjoon, Joon even. It seems like you know each other well.

Hoseok’s wondering how well you know Dr Kim Namjoon. He knows he’s tired because he snorts when you say the contraction of his name again.

‘Joon’ and you look at him curiously.

To cover his lapse, Hoseok reels off the facts he knows, like he’s recapping.

Multiple stab wounds, most probably a right-handed assailant, tall, judging by the angle of the wounds. Probably six foot, like Dr Kim Namjoon himself.

Hoseok files that fact under things that annoy him about ‘Joon.’

As you’re thanking him, ‘Joon’ breaks into a smile, dimples flashing. He glances over Hoseok, as if assessing if he can be trusted to escort his precious Detective Y/N L/N safely at this hour.

Hoseok doesn’t falter as he meets his gaze. He’s not a cocky guy, but he knows two things. He’s a damn good detective and he’s good in a physical fight.

He realises you’re staring at him.

You put your hand on his arm, gentle.

‘Come on, you can crash at mine,’ you say.

Hoseok’s enjoying the feel of your hand on his arm so much he almost doesn’t notice when you say, ‘bye Joonie.’

Almost.

***

Hoseok wakes abruptly to loud banging. It sounds like it’s coming from the hallway, just outside.

Concern for you has him leaping out of bed, pulling the door open, assessing the situation.

He sees Officer Jeon Jungkook outside your bedroom door and takes two steps forward, looking past his large frame to check on you.

You’re standing in the door, and it takes a moment for Hoseok to regroup, because…

Legs.

You’re in an oversized, soft-looking t-shirt that comes to the tops of your thighs, which look so smooth and soft Hoseok’s got the urge to bury his face between them, use them as pillows to rest his head.

He realises you’re looking at him too, remembers that he hasn’t got anything on his top half.

He spends time in the gym, looks after himself, but he knows that’s not why you’re staring.

The scars on his torso tell their own story, one he doesn’t always want to share.

He’d spent three years under deep cover in Kyoto, Joan Kim had been his only contact with the bureau.

He owes her his life, and she owes him a goddamn raise.

Both you and Jeon Jungkook are staring at him, and you look oddly similar.

‘Are you related?’ Hoseok asks, as though it’s relevant.

‘Cousins,’ you say, closing your mouth.

‘There’s been another murder,’ says Jungkook.

‘Fuck,’ you and Hoseok say, at the same time.

***

The officer securing the crime scene looks relieved when Hoseok and you arrive.

‘Forensics are on the way,’ he tells you.

Hoseok nods and you both approach the body.

It’s another woman, dark-haired, lying face down.

That’s not what has Hoseok dropping to his knees beside her though.

There’s a ripple in the blood pooling around her.

You’re a step ahead, hand under her neck.

‘Fuck!’ you swear. ‘She’s got a pulse.’

Hoseok already shouting for an ambulance, helping you turn her over.

He works on her with you until the EMTs arrive.

***

Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face, phone pressed to his ear.

‘What kind of fucking incompetent idiot called it without checking for signs of life?’ Joan asks. Her voice is quiet, terse, chilling.

Hoseok’s seen grown men, seasoned detectives, crumble under Joan’s icy gaze.

He redirects her attention.

‘The medics have stabilised her, they say they can’t give us a time when she’ll be awake and lucid enough to talk,’ he tells her.

‘Any other leads?’ Joan snaps.

She takes Hoseok’s silence, rightly, as her answer.

‘Call in whatever resources you need,’ she says, hanging up on him.

Hoseok heads back to the waiting room, where you’re on the phone.

‘I’ve reassigned him for the moment,’ you say, referring to the officer who’d made the mistake.

‘I’ve been thinking about links between the victims,’ you tell him.

You bring up your laptop, pull up the files. ‘A student, a grocery store cashier, a librarian and a charity worker. There’s a superficial resemblance between them all, they’re similar in colouring, in their twenties. They don’t have anything in common. They didn’t know each other.’

‘What about where the bodies were found?’ Hoseok asks, considering.

‘Public places. Two in alleyways, one in a park, one near the canal.’ You rub your eyes tiredly.

‘Forensics put a rush on scrapings from under our latest victim’s fingernails, so far there’s no DNA match,’ Hoseok reports, checking his phone.

‘It’s a lead,’ you say. ‘He was sloppy with the last victim.’

‘Any leads from boyfriends, families, friends?’ Hoseok asks.

‘They were all single,’ you reply.

Your phone lights up, and Hoseok watches as you turn it over.

You notice his curious look.

‘It’s my date from yesterday. He’s been trying to get in touch,’ you say.

Hoseok frowns. ‘He knows you’re a cop, doesn’t he?’

‘He won’t stop calling,’ you say, absently, rubbing your neck.

You pick up your phone. ‘I’ll just call him and tell him to stop calling me.’

Hoseok watches as you get up and walk out to make your phone call.

He goes over the crime scene reports again, the interview transcripts.

When you get back, you’re frowning.

‘He wants to meet up later,’ you tell him, although he hasn’t asked.

Hoseok shakes his head, irritated on your behalf. ‘Is this what dating is like for women?’

‘I imagine it’s worse for women who don’t carry a gun,’ you say, matter-of-fact.

Hoseok thinks you’ve made a fair point.

***

The state forensics team haven’t uncovered anything new from their investigation. The DNA is still unmatched.

Hoseok’s spent the whole day reading reports, waiting for the doctors to clear the latest victim so he can take a statement.

It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Jungkook’s brought him some spare clothes, muttering something about ‘having the decency to be dressed when you’re a guest in someone else’s house.’

Hoseok had muttered something back about ‘letting yourself into someone’s house without permission’, to which Jungkook had given him a dark look.

You’d mediated by fixing dinner for all three of you.

After dinner, you’d given them both instructions to call you the instant they heard from the hospital, and had left to meet your date.

Jungkook had offered to go with, and it’s the first thing Jungkook’s said all day that Hoseok’s in full agreement with.

You’d rolled your eyes and gone out the door before either of them could stop you.

***

Hoseok’s trying to call you, but your phone keeps going to voicemail.

The fourth victim’s woken up, and she’s lucid enough to talk.

Jungkook glances at him as he signals to turn.

‘She’s not answering,’ Hoseok says.

Jungkook’s surprised. ‘She always answers.’

Hoseok’s got a prickling at the base of his neck.

Jungkook tosses his phone into Hoseok’s lap. ‘Maybe she’s screening your calls,’ he says, petty.

Hoseok gives him an exasperated look but tries using Jungkook’s phone anyway, pointedly ignoring the gym selfie he has as his wallpaper.

The kid’s cut, but that’s got nothing to do with anything right now.

Hoseok tries to keep the smugness out of his voice as he says, ‘No answer.’

‘She’s never not answered a call from me,’ Jungkook says.

Hoseok rolls his eyes at the pout in his voice.

The prickling’s getting stronger.

Jungkook pulls into the hospital car park.

‘Where did she say she was meeting him?’ Hoseok asks.

Jungkook’s back straightens at the note of urgency in Hoseok’s voice.

‘The diner near the park,’ he says.

Hoseok says, patiently, ‘What’s the name of the diner?’

Thinking about it, you fit the description of all the victims.

Down to being single.

Hoseok hopes to hell he’s wrong and it’s just that your phone’s out of battery, but he doesn’t think he is.

***

Hoseok’s out of the car before Jungkook comes to a complete stop. He scans the area, years of training kicking in, adrenaline pumping, heightening his senses.

He’s shouting, ‘Police’ before he even rounds the corner to the alley between the buildings, because he wants to be able to swear in a court of law that he announced himself before kicking the ever-loving shit out of the fucking asshole who’s on top of you.

‘Knife,’ you shout, and Hoseok takes a moment to be really damn glad that you’re alive, and conscious enough to warn him, before he’s disarming the man, shoving his face in the ground, arms behind his back.

Jungkook slaps handcuffs into his palm.

‘Check she’s all right,’ Hoseok grunts.

‘I had him,’ you grumble, before you pass out in Jungkook’s arms.

***

Hoseok props his phone up next to you so he has a reason for looking in your direction if you were to wake up suddenly, but he’s really just looking at your face.

You’re a little banged up, but you’re still the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while.

To be fair, he’s only seen junkies lately because Joan’s been a hard-ass about sending him to investigate meth labs in mountain towns, but still.

You’re beautiful.

Jungkook looks up from the selfie he’s just been taking.

‘Stop staring at her,’ he says.

‘Stop staring at yourself,’ Hoseok counters.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. His phone rings obnoxiously.

Hoseok glares at Jungkook as you stir.

‘Yes, auntie,’ Jungkook says, meek as he answers. ‘She’s fine. She’s in hospital but she can go as soon as she wakes up.’

He listens. ‘Yeah, the state detective is here too.’

Hoseok’s brow furrows, but before he can ask Jungkook to clarify, he realises you’re awake.

You’re looking quizzically at the phone propped on your chest.

Then you smile. ‘I knew I needed to worry about you,’ you say.

***

Hoseok manages to convince Jungkook to go out and bring back breakfast before you wake up the next morning.

He’s lying on his bed in your spare room, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the paperwork he has to do, when you push the door open.

The bruises on your face are a little darker, but you’re still beautiful.

Hoseok thinks it’s encouraging that you’re just in a t-shirt.

He’s not sure if you’re wearing panties, but with the way you’re straddling him, thighs either side of his torso, he thinks he’s about to find out.

You put a hand on his chest, right over the scar from the stab wound he was dealt in a suburb outside Arashiyama.

Hoseok holds his breath as you trace over the pale furrow in his skin with your finger.

You’re looking at him.

Hoseok steadies you with a hand, and lifts his head to nip at your inner thigh with his teeth.

He curls both hands under your ass and pulls you forward so your core is right where he wants it.

Oh.

You’re not wearing panties, and Hoseok falls a little in love with you right there and then.

Your pussy looks so fucking juicy, right in front of his face.

Hoseok licks up into you, and you cry out his name.

He likes the sound of his name when it falls from your lips, the way you say it breathy, needy.

He kneads your ass as he licks up again. He slides a hand round to flick your clit, and suddenly you’re so wet he can feel it on his cheeks.

You’re not shy about rocking against his face, and Hoseok’s encouraged by how slick you are, how disinhibited your moaning is.

He wonder if he can get you to scream his name.

The thought gets him so hard.

He pinches your inner thigh, bites the softness of it, and you jerk.

Hoseok soothes you with a sloppy kiss over the bite, tongue swirling over the mark he’s made.

‘You’re mean in bed,’ you say, but you sound like you like it.

Hoseok squeezes your ass. ‘Get my dick wet so I can make you scream,’ he says.

You’re turning around, licking your way down his torso to the waistband of his borrowed sweats like a good girl.

You hum with pleasure as you pull his dick out, letting it slap against his abs. You slip a hand into his sweatpants, cupping his balls, and squeeze, so hard he almost yelps.

He definitely likes it.

You tongue the slit of his dick, swirling around his head, teasing.

Hoseok lifts his head to bury his face in your cunt, thumb pressing against your ass, hard.

You’re so wet you’re smeared all over his face now.

Hoseok hisses as you take him in. The angle’s not perfect, but he doesn’t give a fuck because he feels like he’s lodged so far down your throat he can feel you swallowing him down.

You pull back, and turn to look at him, saliva and his precum smeared over your lips, hair falling in your face.

Hoseok wants to see you covered in his cum, spurt it all over your pretty face, all over those tits that he’s neglected thus far but that he can’t wait to see.

‘Let me see you bounce on me,’ he says, voice coming out raspy because he’s so fucking turned on he can barely see.

You slip your t-shirt off, and your tits are as pretty as the rest of you.

You cup your breasts, flicking at your own nipples, and Hoseok already knows that however this ends, he’s going to try his damnedest to get you in bed again, because there are so many ways he needs to fuck you to make his life complete.

Hoseok nearly cums there and then when you hover just over him, and ask him, ‘where do you want to fuck me?’

‘Every fucking where,’ Hoseok replies, honest.

You give him a wicked half-smile and roll a condom over him, and sit down on his dick, which feels hard enough and hot enough that he’s worried he’s going to hurt you.

Your eyes are closed, and you sound like you’re enjoying his dick so fucking much that Hoseok pinches your nipple, hard.

You cry out, then your hips jerk, rocking back and forth and he realises you’re cumming, having an orgasm on his dick that you’ve only just put inside you.

Hoseok doesn’t tend to give a fuck where he is during sex. Top, bottom, upside down, he doesn’t give a shit.

The only reason he grabs your hips and turns you over, underneath him, is that based on how much you seem to be enjoying his dick, he’s pretty sure he can make you cum again.

Hoseok fucks into you, determined, rhythmic, changing his angle in response to your pretty moans, until you’re squeezing so tight around him he knows he’s nearly got you there.

You seem to like when he’s mean.

‘Hey,’ he says, hoarse, so close now he’s about to burst.

Your eyes fly open, and Hoseok pinches your clit, hard.

‘Fuck, Hoseok!’

Your scream as you cum again makes him spill so hard inside you it’s like an out of body experience.

Hoseok buries his face in your neck and floats until the ringing in his ears stops and the white behind his eyelids fades to black again.

***

By the time you both get downstairs, there’s cold coffee and croissants on the table and no sign of Jungkook.

Hoseok wanders in your living room whilst you heat up your coffees.

He rolls his eyes at a prominent portrait of Jungkook, a group photo featuring ‘Joonie’.

He stops dead at a photo of you with two people who look like your parents.

He yanks the frame off the wall and brings it into the kitchen with him.

‘Are these your parents?’ he asks.

You give him a funny look. ‘Yeah.’

‘Joan Kim is your mother?’ he asks, pointing with a shaky hand.

‘Assistant director Joan Kim is your mother?’ he asks again.

At your nod of affirmation, he lands on a dining table chair, feeling like his insides are collapsing.

You’re frowning at him.

‘Fuck me,’ you say, drawn out. ‘You’re Hobi?’

Hoseok feels faint.

‘Am I.’ His voice comes out croaky. ‘Am I going to get in trouble for fucking you in the ass?’

You look like you’re torn between amusement and horror.

‘Does my mother scare you that much?’ you ask.

‘She’s Joan fucking Kim,’ Hoseok splutters.

You shake your head, pitying. ‘Wait until you find out who my father is.’

Hoseok buries his face in his hands.

‘Who is he?’ he asks.

‘Kwon Ha Woon,’ you say, looking worried.

‘Supreme court justice Kwon Ha Woon?’ Hoseok practically shouts.

He gets up. ‘It was nice knowing you, Y/N.’

He makes it two steps out your front door before he’s turning around again.

You’re still sitting at the dining table, sipping your coffee.

There’s the faintest spark of mischief in your eyes when you see him.

‘On second thought,’ Hoseok tells you, pulling you into his arms, ‘I told myself that fucking you would make my life complete.’

‘It’s not the most romantic of propositions,’ you remark, letting him walk you backwards back up the stairs to your bedroom, ‘but I’ll take it.’

‘I’ll show you romance,’ Hoseok growls, pushing you back on the bed, climbing on top of you.

‘I’ll protect you from my parents,’ you promise, eyes bright.

From what Hoseok’s seen of you, he’s pretty sure you can.

©hamsterclaw 2022

back-burner | 01

sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff

WARNINGS. one-sided pining (?), longing, sibling jealousy, alcohol consumption, drunk rambling

WORDS. 2.8k

NOTE. hey ya'll!!! sorry for being a lil MIA 😓 things have gotten super busy recently but I managed to whip out a lil wip and plan for a lil drabble series hehe. I'll probably add the tags along the way so it's hard to say where this will go lol but I hope you enjoy!!

unedited :-( !!!!

back-burner masterlist | next chapter

"You're staring again."

Jeon Jungkook is a lot of things. Capable, talented, your self-proclaimed best friend, a multi-faceted nursing student, and handsome. What he wasn't, however, was helpful.

"Wow, thank you for letting me know. It's as if these aren't my own eyes that are doing said staring you speak off," you snap sarcastically, tipping the last bit of vodka and rum down your throat as you wince at the burn.

"That smart-ass mouth isn't going to shift reality," he retorts, snatching your glass away as you glare at him.

"Haven't you heard of manifestation? Speak it into existence, they say," you babble on, mumbling to yourself as you slump further down the plush leather seats.

The gala was beautiful, as usual. Rich and accomplished people alike were mingling with one another while their charming smiles reflected off marble surfaces to highlight their apparent brightness. It was both blinding and exhausting to constantly be surrounded by such greatness, especially to a point where people approached you thinking that you were equally as capable of it.

You weren't, and you don't think you'd ever be.

"Hm, sure." Jungkook rolls his eyes at you dismissively before he considers your words with his eyes looking upwards thoughtfully. "Maybe if you actually acknowledged your feelings then something could happen."

You scowl, drowning yourself lower to a point where your face is nearly squashed under the weight of your shoulders, your face morphed into an expression that's commonplace for you. You don't acknowledge the disapproving stares that a few of these socialites give you when they pass you, affronted to witness a woman like yourself allow herself to look as loose-ended as you were.

"Who says I'm not acknowledging it?"

"No one," Jungkook blinks before he's turning to where your line of vision ends, and you're bitterly reminded of what he was referring to when your eyes settle on them once more. "But the fact Yoongi's clinking glasses with Haerin in hand says something."

"So?" you snap, shifting back into a comfortable position before you're waving a waiter down for more booze. "They can do whatever they want."

"And if that's each other?" Jungkook asks with a raised brow.

You stomp on his foot as he yelps, sending you a lethal glare while you return his gesture with a sickly plastic smile. You don't bother listening when Jungkook begins muttering curses under his breath, and neither do you care about Yoongi or Haerin and how beautiful they looked together. Or how your heart was never with you when he was around, always two steps further than where it should've been. No. You don't care.

Jungkook pushes himself off the seat before shooting you one last once-over accompanied with a deep sigh before he's retreating to where the rest of his peers lay. You had no qualms of him leaving you, in fact, you appreciated the space. You rather be alone now, anyway.

"Another vodka and rum, please," you request from the waiter that bends ever so slightly to catch your order.

"Again, Miss ____?"

You don't appreciate the look of surprise on the waiter's face. You don't even remember if you've ordered from him previously, but the fact that he's sending you very judgemental eyes tell you enough; and your booze-hazed mind sends your mouth running before you can think of giving the man a break.

"Listen, Steve, my father didn't rent out this entire venue for you to micromanage my drinking habits, okay?" Your eyes narrow at him while his eyes widen.

"No Miss, that's not what—"

"Not what you meant?" you snort, "Come on. I've heard better. Just give me my damn alcohol and—!"

"Sorry, Steve." A voice interrupts apologetically as you recognise it immediately. Your body tingles with warmth at the low baritone of your newly joined guest, but you're still a little too drunk to comprehend it. "I'll take care of her."

Steve leaves, bowing apologetically before shooting you an annoyed expression that you think was meant to be kept to himself. You're just about to climb out of your seat to give him a piece of your mind before a large hand wraps around your waist to drag you back to your seat.

"What the—?"

"Having fun?" When you look up, Yoongi's shooting you an amused smile. It's nothing ostentatious, but it's Yoongi. A little cold but genuine nevertheless. You hate that despite your alcohol-fueled mind, your heart still flutters.

"Go away, Yoongi," you grumble.

"Can't do," he chuckles before he's releasing his grip around you.

You scoff. "Go away. I don't need you micromanaging me either."

"Not micromanaging," he hums, right as he occupies the vacant seat that Jungkook's left. "I care about your liver."

"Do you," you sneer.

"Matter of fact, I do. And so do your parents so I'm doing them a favour by not giving them a heart attack when they find out you're hospitalised because you had alcohol poisoning," he says pointedly as you scowl, "Did you even eat?"

"Yes," you lie.

"An entré from two hours ago doesn't count," he deadpans.

You sigh before you're glaring at him through your drunken eyes.

Yoongi doesn't look mad. You don't think he's capable of being anything but the tempered person he was. Rather, he looks amused, as if your clear distaste for his assistance humoured him than annoyed him like any other person. But Yoongi wasn't like everyone else. You disliked people in general and you didn't like Yoongi.

And unfortunately for your stupid, puny heart, it was the exact opposite of what you felt.

"Come on," he urges you with an extended hand, "You got to eat."

"Who are you, my dad?" you groan.

Yoongi levels you with an unimpressed look before he's making an effort to wrap his palm around your arm himself. You shiver at the contact, distracting yourself from the way your heart stammers in your chest to shoot a menacing glare at the man before you.

"No, I'm your friend and I care about you," he says easily before he's bringing you up with him when he stands up.

You yelp, dizzy on your feet as you stumble into his chest. Yoongi already has his arms extended, prepared for your inebriated stance when his palms rest on your waist to balance you out. He's warm. Cosy like your favourite blanket while all you wanted to do was snuggle deeper into his embrace. But when you peer up at him and see his concerned stare, one that was undoubtedly platonic, you feel yourself scowling at the harsh reality check.

"Aren't you busy?" you sneer bitterly, cocking your head to the side from where you remembered him and Haerin engaged in a rather amorous discussion.

"With your sister?" he raises a brow, "Your father called her over."

You scoff.

Of course. The only reason he was here and the only reason he ever spoke to you was that your sister wasn't available. It was always as if you were the second option, a convenient emblem to gravitate towards when he couldn't get the real thing. It was a bitter thought, that you only ever knew of Yoongi because of Haerin.

You would never be anything more than what you currently were to him.

Yoongi was older than you, as old as your older sister and that meant you watched him graduate before you, get his drivers license before you, attend prom before you. All of the things that you considered milestones in your life. And the worst part was that he did it all with Haerin by his side. The proof of their blooming friendship was there in the pictures of her room, on her social media pages and the friendly relations that both your families had with each other.

You first met Yoongi after a particularly strenuous day in middle school. You were just getting to know the concept of teenage angst and responsibilities when you came back home, exhausted from the load of homework your teachers had assigned you right before your final exams.

Haerin was already at the dinner table at that time, caught up in her senior assignments while she typed away on her laptop.

That time, Yoongi appeared.

You remember stopping in your tracks when you spotted the new guest, dark fringe covering his forehead while a beanie rested on his head. He had a large hoodie on that covered his rather narrow build, but he was still taller than you and your sister. You didn't know who he was, but you weren't blind. He was gorgeous. The prettiest boy you've ever seen and you befriended enough band kids throughout your life at that point.

When Haerin notices you awkwardly hovering by the door, only does she offer you a small smile as a greeting.

"Hey." It's friendly enough, but when she looks over to Yoongi, then to you, you gulp. "This is Yoongi. We're working on a project together."

When Yoongi finally looks up, his eyes are warm and friendly, but they hold a rather cold edge to them. One that sends a shudder down your spine as you quickly blurt out an introduction of your own before you're scampering off to your room.

From then on, the rest was history.

You and Yoongi grew closer the more Haerin and his friendship bloomed. What started as a group project eventually blossomed into a friendship that they labelled as 'forever'. Yoongi was always kind to you, offered to drop you off places, gave you advice when you were the one dealing with senioritis; explained 'adult' concepts like taxes and insurance to you when you were curious; fixed the engine in your car for you when it failed you in the middle of nowhere, and he even was the one that accompanied you to get your wisdom teeth extracted.

Yoongi wasn't just Haerin's best friend, but yours too. The difference was that the two of them were clearly more than that while you were forced to watch.

So when you return back to reality, eyes slightly unfocused when they rest on Yoongi's face, you're disgruntled in the reminder of where you stood, and who you were to him.

"Of course," you say with an eye-roll before you're pushing yourself off of him, "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Yoongi frowns at your stubbornness, especially when your words don't ring true when you take a shaky step away from him, ready to establish distance. Your head still spins but you rather get away from everything when you were loose-lipped than have Yoongi hold his friendship with Haerin over your head like a silent victory.

"Clearly not," he sounds displeased when his hand wraps around your bicep to turn around, "You're drunk."

"And you're being annoying," you snap, "Just—go—back."

You emphasise your points by shoving your finger into his chest, and now when your rage clears your mind ever so slightly, you nearly groan at how devastatingly handsome he looks tonight.

Suits complimented Yoongi's physique beautifully. Especially ones where his dress shirt was tucked in his pants, paired with a silver-toned belt that cinched his waist. The goddamn YSL black blazer that drapes over his shoulder only makes him broader, and you curse the Gods above for making him frequent the gym more recently.

"Don't be stubborn," he sighs, tightening his grip on your bicep.

"Don't be pushy," you throw your words back, huffing while you scowl at him.

"You're drunk," he reminds you gruffly, "Your sister would kill me if I let you go off like this."

And there it was.

You shove his grip off you with as much force as you can as you seethe. Yoongi's eyes widen at your blatant display of strength, especially when your eyes are livid when they rest on his stunned expression.

"Of course you're doing this for Haerin," you scoff bitterly while Yoongi just looks confused. "Guess what, Yoongi? I don't want you doing shit for me because you feel obliged to my sister to take care of her little sister. I'm responsible for myself and not for this hero complex you have, or if you want to impress her. Go fuck yourself and leave me alone."

"What are you saying," he says levelly, unimpressed.

This is the first time you've seen Yoongi look rather ... displeased.

Sure, he's looked annoyed before. He was only human. But this expression on Yoongi looks nearly blazing, and if you were any soberer, you'd drop it. But you weren't, and your mouth moves at its own accord.

"What I'm saying is that you have your head so far up her ass that you don't see anything in front of you!" you exasperate, throwing your hands up in the air. You're mildly aware that your voice is rising and that a few other people were beginning to take notice of your developing argument with Yoongi.

"Listen, let me take you home and—"

You interrupt him with a deprecating laugh, mostly to yourself as you shake your head in disappointment.

"Are you stupid? Do you not know how to take no for an answer?" you ask in disbelief, and Yoongi actually glares at you at your clear jibe at him.

"____, don't test me," he warns.

You snort, waving him off just as you see Jungkook enter your peripheral. Your friend looks rather alarmed and he's making his way over in a hurry, but you're quick with your words.

"Ooh. I'm so scared," you pout, peering up at him through your eyelashes before you're rolling your eyes at Yoongi's stone-faced expression. "Fuck off, Yoongi. Go back to my sister because that's clearly where you belong."

"____—" you hear Jungkook approach you with worry, voice a pitched higher before he's attempting to intercept your and Yoongi's conversation.

"I can deal with it," Yoongi says bluntly.

"Hyung, she's drunk and she's not in her—"

"Oh, I know. But whatever she wants to say to me she can say it to my face," Yoongi laughs tightly before you're scoffing at him.

Jungkook looks panicked, eyes darting in-between the both of you as you find power in driving Yoongi up the wall. Especially when this is the first time you've ever seen him anything less than composed.

"Really? Let me start, then," you smile plastically.

"Do enlighten me," Yoongi blinks.

"Guys I think—"

"You're an annoying asshole," you sneer, poking his chest while your eyes stay trained on his unchanging expression. "You act like you care about me when all you really care about is making yourself look like a good man in front of my sister."

"You're drunk—!" Jungkook hisses, squeezing your shoulder in warning as you drunkenly shove his hand off of you.

Yoongi remains blank in his face and that only irks you even more.

"You always come in and rescue me when you think I need saving but you don't care if I get into trouble! You never do! All the shit you do is cause—cause you want to fuck my sister, want to be this big macho saviour—"

"Okay, that's enough," Jungkook snaps, clamping a mouth over your mouth as you thrash in his hold.

The look on Yoongi's face is menacing. Your eyes widen when you note that it's terrifying that he doesn't move an inch, not even when his eyes slowly drift onto Jungkook's figure attempting to silence your muffled shouts under his palm.

People are staring, but you couldn't care less. Not when Yoongi raises one lone brow that has you shuddering.

"Let her go, Jungkook."

Jungkook freezes, and you take that moment of weakness to bite his hand as he yelps and retreats his palm.

"Ha! See? You're trying to embody this alpha male character," you snort as you feel Jungkook melt helplessly behind you.

"Am I," Yoongi blinks, unamused.

"Duh," you say obviously before rolling your eyes. "You know what. Just fuck right out of here and leave me alone. Let me know if you get into my sister's pants for what you did to me, yeah?"

"Follow me."

Jungkook freezes. You freeze.

And it's all because Yoongi has never sounded like that before.

Like he's threatening you.

"W-What?" you stammer, eyes rapidly blinking.

"We're going to talk," he says calmly, taking a deep breath before he's turning on his feet.

His back is turned to you when you gawk at him. "W-What makes you think I'm going to listen to you?"

Yoongi stops for just a beat, hands stuffed in his pockets when the silence quite literally makes your throat dry.

"Because ..." he says in a low tone as you feel your breath hitch, "The shit I'm going to say and do to you isn't going to be in front of an audience."

He throws you a cold look over your shoulder as you nearly cower at his gaze alone.

When he strides forward, you feel compelled to follow. And you hate that your mind decides that you are.

When you turn to Jungkook, he's as pale as you are, but all he can offer is a weak pat to your shoulder.

"Good fucking luck."

andante cantabile || MYG x reader

pairing: myg x f!reader

genre: historical / regency au, fluff, smut in epilogue

chapter rating: 13+

wc: 10.4k

summary: You are convinced Mr. Min is nothing but a rude and gloomy man after he leaves a horrible first impression on you. His friends' attempts to convince you otherwise are met with mixed success.

warnings: pianist!yoongi, jane austen rip-off, enemies to lovers if you squint, slow burn, mention of parent death, jungkook is the reader’s younger brother, full ot7 as supporting cast

note: I’m finally crossposting to tumblr again! A little nervous, mostly excited 😊 It’s exactly two years ago that I first posted this story, and I’m still really proud of it. The writing style was a fun challenge, definitely a bit of an experiment but I hope you enjoy!

(Posted as a oneshot on ao3, split into smaller parts for tumblr. That does mean the first part has relatively more screentime for the supporting cast, but there is a lot of regency!Yoongi goodness coming up 💕)

masterlist: 1 | 2 | 3 | coda

“Jungkook.” With an urgent whisper, you shook your brother awake. “Kookie!”

Your little brother had been sound asleep, curled up in the sheets, but he stirred at your insistent poking of his cheek.

“Wh— what’s going on?” he asked groggily, trying to escape your prodding finger. The five-year old boy sat cross-legged on the bed, his mouth hanging open as he blinked tiredly at you.

“It’s a full moon, remember!” you said, jumping off the bed. You pulled back his heavy curtains with a dramatic flair, an effect somewhat ruined by the fact Jungkook’s window did not afford a view of the aforementioned moon.

His only response to your words a bleary stare, Jungkook looked on the brink of falling back to sleep.

Unacceptable!

Drawing yourself up to your full eight-year old height, you pulled Jungkook out of the bed and to the window. He yawned loudly, rubbing at his eyes as he dragged his feet.

“Come on,” you urged him, lifting him up to sit in the window sill, then clambered up yourself and undid the latch. “We have a ghost to catch!”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” he said, pouting at you. “Jimin told me so.”

You sniffed. “Jimin is only seven. Do you trust him over me?” The cool night air brushed against your bare arms as you opened the window and you suppressed a shiver, hastening to readjust your cloak.

Jungkook put his arms around his knees, nuzzling into the fabric of his nightgown. “No,” he finally admitted.

“Then let’s go!”

In the end, you never caught any ghost—though Jungkook did catch a terrible cold. Still, for a long time you insisted one haunted the orchard until the passing of years forced you to grow up and put an end to your nightly adventures, the full moon a beautiful sight but nothing more.

“Miss Jeon!” a voice called out across the meadow.

The wind almost caught your straw bonnet when you looked up from the field of yellow flowers. With one hand you clutched onto your hat, the other filled with the flowers you had picked. You smiled at the sight of Areum Kim, your neighbour and oldest friend. Though she did not always carry herself with the greatest sense of propriety, you could not fault her for that. Indeed, she was the one person in whom you failed to recognise it as a fault at all.

She hurried down the stone path to you, her sister-in-law in her wake.

“Areum, Mrs. Kim,” you said warmly, giving a small curtsy. “What brings you here?”

Doyeon Kim, a delicate woman with striking eyes, sent a teasing smile Areum’s way. “Seokjin received a letter from his cousin today,” she said.

“Oh, do let me tell,” Areum protested, clutching onto Doyeon’s arm. She turned to you without waiting for an answer, radiating excitement. “My cousin Namjoon bought a summer home right here in Southdon, and he is coming over next month! Not only that, but he’ll bring his brother and some friends from London. London!”

“Your cousin? That is wonderful news!” you said. You had met him once before at the wedding of Seokjin and Doyeon Kim, though his younger brother had been too sick to travel at the time. He’d been a handsome man, with smart manners and a dimpled smile that motivated you to keep him in high spirits.

Areum nodded with enthusiasm. “And you will finally meet Taehyungie! Your brother is almost of an age with him, I am sure they will get along most splendidly.”

Doyeon laughed, a bright sound she hid behind her hand. “I have yet to find the person Taehyung does not get along with. That being said, his temperament does seem like a good match for Mr. Jeon’s.”

“Then I look forward to the two making their acquaintance,” you said, always pleased to see your brother make new friends.

The month passed by with little happenings of note. An expectant vibration hung in the air of Southdon, anticipating the arrival of Namjoon Kim and his party; particularly the well-to-do bachelors from London he was rumoured to bring. While your hometown was not without society, the city of London always cast a spell of curiosity and marvel.

Your younger brother was particularly excited, eager for the opportunity to expand his social circle. Frequently you overheard him with your other neighbour, Jimin Park, crafting plans for activities they could undertake with the newcomers.

As for your father, he made sure to note their bachelor status, though he knew better than to press the subject. The generous condition of your family’s financial and social standing meant you did not want for attention from suitors, but it also provided you with the luxury to be quite selective about a potential husband. Jungkook had once horrified your father by suggesting you not be married at all and instead become the residential spinster of Aberton Hall, where Jungkook assured he’d provide anything his beloved sister desired.

Now, while your disposition towards marriage was not wholly unfavourable, Jungkook’s half-serious jests always put your mind at ease, erasing any pressure you might have felt. He enabled you to approach the subject strictly on your own terms, and for that you would always be grateful.

So you awaited the arrival of the much anticipated party with no frivolities clogging up your thoughts, no expectations begging to be dashed. Instead you merely enjoyed the prospect of reacquainting yourself with Namjoon Kim and the doubled efforts that society would put into their events this season. Already Areum gushed to anyone who would listen (or pretend to) about the preparations she was making for a ball to welcome her cousins. She only needed the slightest provocation to throw an event, and her brother tended to indulge her fancies.

It was when Jungkook and you were engaged in a friendly practise bout of fencing that a letter arrived—and quite timely as well, for your brother had been beating you quite handily. His skills with the foil were unparallelled in the county and so sparring with him always brought mixed feelings on your part; you appreciated the challenge, but hated to lose. As much as you enjoyed going up against your brother, there were only so many defeats your ego could bear.

Your mask tucked under your arm, you thanked the servant for bringing the letter. Jungkook wiped his forehead, skin shiny with perspiration, watching as you read the letter and took in its contents.

“Who is it from?” he asked once you had finished.

“Mr. Kim,” you said, gently folding up the paper with a smile that refused to be contained. “He has called upon us for dinner next week. His cousins will also be attending.”

Jungkook’s face brightened with obvious elation. “How fortunate! I have been pestering father to invite Mr. Namjoon Kim and his companions over as soon as possible, but he insisted they must be allowed to settle in peace.”

His fervour brought out a warm laugh from you. “Father has a point,” you conceded, “but we are lucky to have such a considerate neighbour. He is kind to include us while he must have plenty of catching up to do with his family.”

“Which they can do just as easily in our presence,” Jungkook said, resting his forearms on your shoulders as he leaned against your back. With an exaggerated flair you fell forward, pretending to buckle underneath your brother’s weight. He laughed and held onto you to keep you on your feet. “You must agree, do you not?” he said with the pleased confidence of a man already sure of the answer.

You put the letter aside and took up your foil once more. “It does not matter if I do,” you teased. “We have been invited, to refuse would be most rude. Now, let’s continue!”

“Are you certain? I would hate to wound your dignity even further,” he said, the grin on his lips saturated with mischievous pride.

“Oh, I doubt you would,” you said, putting your mask back on. “But you will have to beat me first!”

If there was one circumstance that allowed you a fair chance to beat your brother, it was when his confidence soared too high. You would not pass on this rare opportunity, too enticed by the lure of victory. Jungkook’s eyes glinted as he also donned his mask, rising to your bait. You slid into a proper stance and Jungkook did the same, carrying on your ‘friendly’ practise bout.

Once Namjoon Kim arrived in Southdon, taking residence in Bexlow House, it took no time at all for rumours to circulate about him and his companions.

Hoseok Jung and Yoongi Min stirred up dust in particular; a rich yet eccentric patron of the arts and the pianist he doted on. Apparently Mr. Min was making quite a name for himself in London (or so Park told you, whose aunt spoke of him in her letters) but he came from old money, leading you to suspect his growing fame might not be based on skill alone. Fortunately, Mr. Seokjin Kim’s invitation ensured you did not have to wait long for the opportunity to turn hearsay and speculation into solid fact.

You could not help but tease Jungkook for his palpable enthusiasm as the carriage rode you towards Mr. Kim’s estate, a shine to his boyish face. “I swear,” you said, “you are more excited about them than Mrs. Lee and her daughters.”

Unabashed, Jungkook grinned at you. “Of course! After all, we do not often have new faces around here.” He looked his best today, in a fitted tailcoat of deep burgundy and his dark brown hair parted with an artful tousle to reveal his forehead, while the narrow shape of his waist evidenced the presence of a corset.

“Of course,” you affirmed with a smile. Surely his eagerness had nothing to do with the deep admiration that Namjoon Kim had instilled in Jungkook when they previously met. Three years of age difference made quite an impact, and Jungkook had followed the older boy around like an imprinted duckling.

The past years had done little to temper Jungkook’s memory, his idolisation back in full force. But Namjoon Kim had also left quite a positive impression on you, so you could understand your brother’s feelings. You only hoped the man had aged well, saving Jungkook from bitter disappointment.

With Acton Field only two miles from your home, the carriage ride did not take long. You had a beautiful view of its apple grooves, a lush green after the trees already shed their flowers through spring.

“Mr. and Miss Jeon! Welcome!”

Seokjin Kim gave you a jovial greeting, a wide smile painted across his beautiful face. Your neighbour had always been an attractive man and years of a flourishing marriage had only increased his charms. Always a proper man of the house, he made introductions between the various parties.

Expectation lived up to reality; not only as handsome as you remembered, but the years had lent Namjoon Kim a maturity that suited him well. His younger brother Taehyung made a striking figure himself, with large eyes and an intense expression that bordered the line of intimidating, until a rectangular grin softened his face when Seokjin introduced him.

Perhaps the Kims’ elegance attracted company of equal refinement, you mused. Mr. Jung certainly matched them with his sharp jawline, the very picture of aristocratic dapperness. And then there was Mr. Min, whose dour expression could not diminish his delicate features. Skin pale as porcelain contrasted by dark hair and dark eyes that regarded his surroundings with a certain caution. Not the most charming of men, but undeniably fair to look upon.

Areum drew you into a conversation with her youngest cousin, pleased to finally have you meet him. You quickly came to understand the confidence she had in a friendship between him and Jungkook; he was an amicable sort, earnest and up-beat. You spared a glance at your brother, and concealed a sympathetic wince.

As personable as Jungkook was, he had never grown out of his shyness—a consequence of living in such a small and unchanging community, you suspected. You did wish your father had not kept you and Jungkook so sheltered, but you understood where his protectiveness came from.

Now Jungkook stood next to Mr. Jung and Mr. Namjoon Kim, a clear battle in his doe eyes. His instinct to disappear into the background clashing with the desire to speak with the man he so looked up to. Fortunately Jung proved talkative enough for three men combined, easily entertaining with tales of London.

Besides, Jungkook was not the only quiet one in the drawing room.

Mr. Min stood with Seokjin Kim and his wife, and while he politely answered their questions, he struck you as distinctly unhappy to be there. Mrs. Kim was the very embodiment of hospitality, her face lit up with a smile that ought to lift the spirits of any guest. Yet Min proved immune, eyes restless as they wandered around the room. Did he truly think the company so poor? Seokjin’s japes were not so horrible.

The rumours had led you to believe Mr. Jung was the eccentric one, but at least the man showed himself to be likable. You adjusted your expectations of Mr. Min’s skills on the pianoforte; for people to put up with his disposition he must be talented indeed.

“Don’t you think so, Miss Jeon?” Areum asked, interrupting your inner musings.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” you replied without missing a beat, effortlessly stepping back into the conversation. “There are some rich fishing waters on our grounds, I am sure my brother would love to take you.”

There, a seed planted to create a connection, you thought, satisfied at your efforts to help Jungkook. Taehyung responded positively to the idea, adding that Mr. Min was an avid fisher as well.

You smiled, but your lips were pressed together tightly. Concealing the dreadful impression Mr. Min had made on you, you smoothly proposed a group outing for the men. After all, Seokjin Kim would be distraught if left out.

You cast a furtive glance at Yoongi Min, but was startled to find his eyes already on you. With a sudden rush of embarrassment you dropped your gaze to the ground, annoyed at yourself for feeling caught when he was the one who had been staring.

Fortunately a servant announced dinner was ready, and the group left the drawing room to partake in the meal. Dinner opened with a serving of white soup and the atmosphere was easy; even Jungkook relaxed now there was food to distract him from his own inhibitions.

Once again Mr. Jung proved himself a natural entertainer, speaking of his exploits in London. “I truly believe it is the arts that bring meaning to people’s lives. That is why I became involved,” he said with a beautiful smile, a calm timbre weaving through his voice while he spoke seriously of his passion. “It gives a voice to our inner self, allowing us to speak of what we fail to put into words. Like the music of our Yoongi here!”

The musician in question stiffened at the mention of his name, then made a soft hum of acknowledgement and brought another spoonful of soup to his mouth, leaving his response at that. However, the group did not allow him to eat in silence, their interest drawn by Mr. Jung’s remark.

“How long have you played the pianoforte, Mr. Min?” Seokjin Kim asked. “Professionally, I mean.”

Min swallowed slowly, ducking his head down. His eyes were almost lost under his dark hair, which he wore longer than deemed fashionable. “Not long,” he said, glancing at Mr. Jung and not elaborating further.

With an easy chuckle, Hoseok Jung picked up the thread of conversation that Min had dropped so carelessly. “I had to convince my friend here to share his performances with the public! If not for me, he would still be locked up inside his house.”

“And perhaps happier for it,” Min said in a stony voice.

You and Areum locked eyes at once, though she was less successful at keeping her face neutral. But Jung burst out laughing, a loud cackle that sounded through the dining room and defused any negative effect Min’s brusque comment might have had on the evening’s ambiance.

In the corner of your eyes you noticed your brother, whose eagerness to contribute had been building for a while now, his nerves calming and smile broadening. You turned back to your soup, your own lips curling upwards as well, pleased to see Jungkook on the verge of opening up.

Your joy proved short-lived.

“My sister has some fair skill on the pianoforte herself,” he said, and the corners of your mouth dropped before you could catch yourself. “She plays quite wonderfully!”

Jungkook. Your doting brother, the staunchest of your supporters and biggest champion (unless it concerned fencing). Any other day you would have been endeared by his belief in your talents, even the nonexistent ones, but today you had to make an exception.

Your skills were acceptable, and that was the kindest word on the subject you could spare without risking yourself delusional. One of your failings as a lady, and one you were painfully aware of.

“Jungkook, you flatter me,” you said with a small laugh. “That is higher praise than I deserve.”

Your words were not enough to repair the damage and you felt the eyes burning into you. The local branch of the Kim family smiled at your humility, too polite to say the words themselves, especially since they knew Jungkook would not be happy with them for it. Only Areum dared a raised eyebrow of scepticism, but the gesture went unnoticed.

However, their cousins had no way of knowing your words were not a display of false modesty. Namjoon and Taehyung Kim gave you looks of curiosity, taking Jungkook’s praise at face-value. Even worse; Min’s glum expression broke for the first time, an inquisitive glimmer in his dark eyes as he studied you with renewed interest. Sitting directly opposite of you, his attention was an unpleasant weight.

But Mr. Jung trumped them all, offering the suggestion you most dreaded. “Well, I would be remiss if I did not hear a performance,” he said, a geniality to him that assured you his request was honest with no ill-intent. “Who knows, I may have to sweep you off to London!”

The audacious words sent a burning flush through your already heated skin, your laugh growing ever fainted. “I fear London is too bold a stage for my limited abilities,” you said. “Besides, surely no one is interested in an amateur’s efforts when we have a professional among us.”

You gestured towards Mr. Min, catching his gaze. Imploring him to save you from embarrassment, you poured a silent plea into your smile. He looked back at you, a feline quality to his eyes—though his current expression brought to mind a grumpy tomcat rather than any sleek elegance.

“By that logic I would rarely have the opportunity to hear the playing of others,” he said, sullen.

“Ah, of course,” you acknowledged, shoulders slumping. There was nothing more you could do except praying for the party to forget about this particular conversation by the time dinner finished.

A lull settled over the table, the subject closed by Min’s statement. You continued to eat your soup, attempting to savour the veal broth but your efforts came up short. Namjoon Kim gave you a curious look from the seat next to you, then his face softened in a sympathetic smile. “Miss Jeon, I see your father is not with us today. Is everything well? I was looking forward to meeting him again.”

The change of subject loosened the knot in your chest. “Sadly, our father had to leave urgently to distant relations in Antwerp,” you explained. Only two days ago he had departed, after a pressing letter from your grand uncle that he was needed.

“I hope there are no health issues?”

“No, thankfully. There is business to attend to,” you said. “Our grand uncle is deeply involved in the stock market. I do not understand all the finer aspects of it, but father intends to return before the end of summer. I’m sure he will have the opportunity to explain it himself, if you are interested.”

“In the meanwhile, I am left in charge of the estate,” Jungkook interjected, and you heard a mixed jumble of pride and resentment in his voice. As pleased as your brother was to be entrusted with this responsibility, you knew he yearned for the opportunity to travel. However, the indignation was only subtle, soothed by the presence of new people right here in Southdon.

Various members of the party made suitably impressed noises, and Taehyung Kim questioned Jungkook about the grounds, specifically the fishing waters you had mentioned to him earlier. Conversation picked up again around you, and you gave Namjoon Kim a silent look of thanks for his smooth intervention. A slight nod in return, and then his attention turned to the topic at hand; organising an outing together to test out those waters. Seokjin Kim showed the most blatant enthusiasm but even Min eased into a small smile, a reminder of his supposed interest in fishing.

Basking in the obvious happiness of your brother, you calmed down and almost forgot about the earlier incident. Though you could not let it slip from memory entirely, not with Mr. Min casting persistent glances your way (much to your displeasure). You distracted yourself by regaling Namjoon Kim with stories about the town.

He burst into a dimpled laugh as you narrated how a flock of chickens once upset the Sunday sermon, when they had somehow gotten into the church and one laid an egg right on the pastor’s bible, another building a nest in the man’s hair. A tale from many years ago, though perhaps you should not be as fond of the recollection as you were, proof of your misbehaviour during that time of your life.

Of course, you left out the part about who was responsible to Mr. Kim, but you suspected he knew anyway. Father always blamed the lack of a maternal presence for your period of rebellion, but in time you settled down and matured into a proper lady.

Dinner continued to the next course, with such enjoyable conversation around the table that you entirely forgot about the looming threat waiting for you.

Hoseok Jung, the self-proclaimed patron of the arts, had not.

As the servants took away the final plates he pinned you with a slow smile, sparing no mercy. In his defence, he did not seem aware of the fact that you required such a thing. “Miss Jeon! Is now the time for you to grace us with a song?”

With no means to decline without risking insult, you supposed it was. Though ‘grace’ would not be the word of your choice. You nodded in agreement and could only hope your smile did not show the strain behind it.

Ever the excellent host, Seokjin Kim led his guests back to the drawing room. Usually his wife would be the one who played to entertain guests; Doyeon was far more musically accomplished than you. She gently touched your arm as she passed by, though you did not know whether it was intended as encouragement or sympathy. Under other circumstances she may have tried to take your place, but both of you knew Jungkook would take heavy offence.

All too aware of the eyes on you, you took place behind the pianoforte. It was a beautiful instrument, purchased only last year as a gift to Doyeon from her husband. You rifled through the music sheets and quickly found a sonata by Haydn you felt reasonably confident of. The others spread through the room, making themselves comfortable on sofas or by the window or, in Min’s case, standing by the bookcase behind the pianoforte.

You felt a stab of unease at his presence behind you but ignored him best you could. Bolstered by the proud shine on Jungkook’s face, you pressed your fingers to the keys. You focused on the music, fooling yourself into believing your brother was the only other person in the room. When he listened he did not hear mistakes, only creative improvisations.

And today, you very much appreciated to be indulged.

Music filled the drawing room as you made your way through the movements, starting off with a brisk allegro. You needed a few measures to hit your stride, but by the time you reached the minuet you found a sliver of peace deep inside you and latched onto it. Then, the third and fourth movements followed easier than you had anticipated. Not your worst performance, you reflected as you returned to one final allegro, building to the last crescendo—and then it was done.

Your fingers hovered over the keys as the climactic notes faded in the air, and you took a deep breath before lifting your eyes from the paper to face your audience.

A polite applause greeted you. As predictable as ever, Jungkook beamed at you as though you had just given a spectacular concert, but what truly warmed your heart was the appreciative smile of Doyeon Kim, an acknowledgement of your efforts. The performance had been… acceptable.

“Mm.”

You froze at the sound from behind you, far closer than anticipated. Quickly you recovered, smoothing a hand over your high-waisted dress as you nodded at your audience in thanks.

“That was excellent!” Jungkook said, then turned to the man standing just behind you. “Mr. Min, what did you think?” He smiled expectantly at the professional pianist, clearly anticipating a raving review. Your smile was more rueful, sympathising with Min for being forced in a position where he, if not outright lie, at least had to tip-toe around the truth.

Mr. Min sucked in a breath and when your eyes locked, his dark gaze caused a swelling of vulnerability deep inside you, invasive and unwelcome. “Your left hand is not as quick as your right,” he said. “It would help to first practise with just your left until you’ve mastered the part, then play with both hands.”

Any relief you might have felt at making it through your performance unscathed was cruelly doused by the sharp chill of humiliation. Your neck burned with a cold heat, creeping further to your cheeks.

Silence fell in the drawing room.

Decorum broken, you stared at Mr. Min, incapable of ripping your eyes away. His brow furrowed until he broke the contact himself, turning his head to the side. “Of course,” he said stiffly, “otherwise you played well.”

In the corner of your vision you saw Jungkook, his chest puffing up and a dangerous intensity drawing over his face. Wordlessly you begged him to remain quiet and not cause a scene, but a saviour presented himself before Jungkook could formulate a response.

Seokjin Kim clapped his hands together and let out a buoyant laugh. “How about we enjoy a glass of port, gentlemen? Come, come,” he said, putting his hands firmly on Jungkook’s shoulder as he led the young man back to the dining room with clear deliberation. “Let the ladies catch up on their gossip!”

Perhaps you were mistaken, but Mr. Jung gave you an apologetic look as he followed the others. They left you with Mrs. and Miss Kim, who rushed to assure you of how well you played. But, you thought bitterly, only by your standards.

Not by Mr. Min’s.

“And did you know he has seen a hot air balloon ascension?” Jungkook said to whoever would listen. On this particular day, that meant you and Jimin Park. “Mr. Kim has been studying technical drawings of them as well. Is he not amazing!”

Park, Jungkook’s lifelong friend and neighbour, looked at him with an indulgent smile. His light brown hair shone in the soft sunlight that fell into the parlour, cheeks lifted into an affectionate grin. You could still see the shadow behind his face of the adorable boy you used to know, but there was no denying Park had grown up into a beautiful young man.

“I look forward to meeting him at Miss Kim’s ball,” Park said, and you caught a pinch of jealousy at tomorrow’s planned fishing expedition, though not explicit enough for Jungkook to notice.

A blunder on Park’s part; Jungkook was the host for this outing and well within his rights to invite others, something he would do happily if he thought Park was interested. But fishing had never been a passion of his, only partaking when Jungkook forcibly dragged him along. If anything, your brother would believe he was doing Park a favour by leaving him out.

You looked up from your book, quietly developing a strategy. “What a shame though, that is still two weeks from now,” you said carefully.

Park’s lips parted, frozen in a response, then curled up as he recognised your efforts. “A shame indeed. Only so many weeks in a summer, then they’ll be back in London.”

“And Taehyung Kim is of an age with you! It would be lovely if you had the opportunity to meet sooner.” You chanced a look at Jungkook and felt a surge of triumph at his expression.

Rubbing a fingertip at his temple, cogs turning behind his eyes. “Oh, Jimin! What if you join us tomorrow?” he said, a wide smile bursting across his face. “You do not care for fishing, I know, but the company will make up for it!”

“That is so thoughtful,” Park said sweetly. “I will gladly take you up on that offer.”

“I do have to warn you,” Jungkook said, his expression souring, “Min will also be joining us. I saw no way to exclude him.”

You would never admit it, but part of you was thankful for the bite to Jungkook’s voice—though another part of you was flustered at his protectiveness. It had been a humiliating experience, one you’d rather forget, and so far Mr. Min had made no efforts to make repairs. The other Londoners had been sociable enough; the Kims had joined you and your brother when you crossed paths on a morning walk and Mr. Jung had happily chatted with you after church. Meanwhile, Mr. Min had utterly ignored you.

It was enough to convince you he did not care about the effect his impropriety had on you, which spoke ill of his character indeed. You struggled to understand why Mr. Namjoon Kim and the others associated themselves with such a man, but perhaps they simply were kind to him for the sake of Mr. Jung or so impressed by his musical skills.

“That is fine,” Park said, his eyes twinkling. “I must admit, I have become rather curious about him.”

Jungkook sniffed dismissively and instead returned to the subject of Namjoon Kim and his many exploits.

Park stayed all through dinner and joined you for a round of cards afterwards. As always the stakes became somewhat heated, nobody willing to walk away the loser. Jungkook looked at his hand with an insufferable quirk to his lips, confidence glimmering in his eyes.

“I propose I deal the next round,” Park said tightly, lifting an elegant eyebrow.

Smile turning dangerous, Jungkook cocked his head. “What do you mean to imply?”

“Oh, I imply nothing!”

“Good,” Jungkook said, “because unlike some, I do not resort to foul play to win. I don’t have to.”

You peeked over your cards to watch their bickering, already formulating a plan on how to best use this to your advantage. The more they riled one another up, the better your odds at taking away the victory.

Park bristled at the accusation. “Years of friendship, and this is how you treat me?” he sputtered, eyes wide.

“He treats you in the way your game tactics call for,” you said, hiding a playful smile behind your cards.

Park gave you a stricken look that spoke of the deep stab of betrayal you had just inflicted on him. But before he had the chance to respond, you were interrupted by your steward.

“Mr. Jeon, I am sorry to bother you, but could I have a moment of your time?” he said, ever polite. Jungkook excused himself and let the steward pull him away. Your eyes followed them, wondering what was important enough that it could not wait. However, your steward did not look particularly alarmed which assuaged most of your worries.

When you turned back to Park he was smiling at you, all belligerence of the game faded away. “Thank you,” he said, “for your assistance earlier.”

You chuckled, putting down your cards. “You are very welcome. I could not resign you to a fate of not meeting the Kims and Mr. Jung until the ball.”

“Ah, the ball…” he mused, drawing his thumb over his lip as his eyes twinkled at you. “I do hope I still hold the right to your first dance even with these fascinating newcomers around.”

“Of course you do!” you assured with a laugh. “I would not have it any other way.”

“Good.” The way his smile transformed his eyes into crescents was almost enough to make you forget about his fraudulent tendencies while playing cards.

“It truly is a mystery to me!” you exclaimed, struggling to keep your composure.

Areum was all sympathy, patting the arm you had looped around hers while she accompanied you on your morning walk. The touch of soft cotton was a slim comfort, but it assured you at least one person remained on your side.

For just a few short days your brother staunchly supported your dislike of Mr. Min, to the point that it embarrassed you at times! But hindsight made you appreciative of even those moments, now that they were lost to you.

One outing of the gentlemen together and Jungkook had changed his mind on the matter entirely. One single outing! Ever since then he tried to persuade you of the man’s intelligence, of his sense of humour. The latter had you convinced this was all part of some elaborate joke Jungkook was playing on you, though you did not understand what his endgame might be.

“I do not wish to speak ill of your brother,” Areum said, on the cusp of speaking ill of your brother, “but perhaps he simply lacks a certain sensitivity. It is easy for men among themselves to forget the wrongs they have inflicted on us.”

You smiled at Areum’s loyalty; you knew how partial she was to your brother, but she did not hesitate to choose a side. “Or Jungkook is simply having a laugh with me,” you said. “If Mr. Min truly is the man described to me, he would have apologised for his behaviour, but he has not even deigned to deliver a letter.”

Areum let out a deep sigh. “Seokjin also spoke of his thoughtfulness, it is baffling. Perhaps Mr. Min is just the sort of man who only gets along with other gentlemen. Oh!”

Her face lit up as she spotted something in the distance. You followed her gaze and saw a trio approaching you through the fields by horse, and even from this distance they were easy to recognise.

Jungkook and his two companions all looked in high spirits as they drew near, laughing brightly. Perhaps it was because they were so close of an age, but the three had become quite taken with one another. Areum’s smile gained a smug edge, satisfied to know her prediction had come true.

As for you, the sight of them getting along so amicably warmed your heart. Jungkook had truly come out of his shell around the youngest Kim, his efforts rewarded with what would surely become a treasured friendship.

“Good morning, Miss Jeon, Areum!” Taehyung Kim was the first one to call out to you.

They came to a halt near you and Areum, each astride an impressive Thoroughbred; the pride of the Park family’s stables. Greetings were exchanged, and Jungkook enquired after the well-being of Areum. She launched into an animated explanation of her newest ideas for the supper to be served at her event, staring up at Jungkook with a brilliant smile.

You bit your lip to hold back your amusement, but failed when Park sighed. His eyebrow quirked up at you, then he chuckled and shook his head. He liked Areum well enough, but once she got started on any given topic… You hoped they had no pressing matters to attend to.

However, Jungkook clearly did not mind. He asked in depth about her meal plans, though his focus lay with her choice of meats.

Taehyung Kim observed the conversation with interest, his head cocked to the side. “Do you think there will be strawberries?” he mumbled, more to himself than anything else. Then he blinked, as though to snap himself back into reality, and turned to you. “Did you enjoy the mackerel, Miss Jeon?”

The sudden change of subject threw you, and you needed a moment to realise what he meant. “Oh! Yes, yes very much,” you said. Freshly caught and prepared by your skilled cook, it had made for a delicious meal.

“Min caught it, did you know?” he said, his smile proud as though he had been personally responsible.

But your smile turned sour. Ah. Min again. “Yes, Jungkook mentioned it.”

Kim beamed at you. “He caught two, while Jeon had no luck at all so he was generous enough to share.”

Was there some conspiracy afoot? Had the universe turned itself against you, when all around you everyone sung the praises of Yoongi Min’s kindness while he showed you none? “Yes, very generous of him,” you said with as much warmth as you could muster.

It seemed to satisfy Kim, and you quickly took advantage of a lull in the conversation to close off this particular topic. “Areum, I am starting to feel peckish,” you said gently. “Would you like to join me for breakfast back at the house?”

Areum hesitated but she recognised something in your expression and nodded in agreement. “Yes, of course. Gentlemen, we’ll leave you be,” she said with a light bow. Everyone said their goodbyes, then you parted ways with the trio. Areum was more than happy to continue her chatter about the ball preparations to you, and in turn you let yourself be distracted by her planning.

As agreed she joined you for breakfast and you savoured the light-hearted banter as much as the fresh apricot jam. But eventually it was time for her to return home and you sent her on her way, insisting she take your carriage.

And then, Aberton Hall suddenly was far too quiet.

With Jungkook still absent, you made your way to the drawing room. There was something you had been putting off these past few days, and you needed to confront it. You were childish to avoid it for so long, while you believed yourself to have outgrown that particular trait. So now it was time to deliver proof.

Inside the drawing room, the pianoforte waited for you.

The instrument stared you down, but you stared right back at its black-and-white keys. One deep breath, and you sat down on the stool, rolling your wrists and stretching your fingers to prepare them for practise. Face steeled with focus, you ran through your warm-up exercises.

Despite your lack of natural talent, you always found the routine calming, the habitual rhythms and passages a place of solace that emptied your mind of distractions and discomforts. And so you felt ready to continue onto the next step after you finished.

A familiar sonata rested on the music desk.

You refused to let one memory—one man—spoil your enjoyment of this piece. You refused!

Yet, your hands hesitated above the keys. His words, his criticism, topped off by his disingenuous compliment; the faint ghost of their memory sang through you. Your expression hardened and you took another deep breath, then placed only your left hand on the keys and began to play. A strange sense of spite had taken hold of you, as though mastery of this piece would somehow deflect your feelings of embarrassment back onto Mr. Min. That it would prove him wrong.

By the time Jungkook returned to the estate you were still practising, but he must have discerned your state of mind, for he uncharacteristically made no comment.

Finally, the day of the ball arrived.

Wanting to look your best for Areum’s event, you put in every effort. You wore a sheer gown of cotton gauze, a satin petticoat underneath. Aiming for fashionable simplicity, the dress was white with beautiful embroidery forming a delicate trimming of leaves, while a ribbon tied around the waistline brought an accent of Pomona green to the ensemble. Your high waist was contrasted by a low neckline, the occasion allowing for such exposure of skin. It showed off the necklace of small pearls you wore, a fond memento of your mother.

The maid helped you prepare, carefully fixing a pearl ornament in your hair that complimented the necklace, and she buttoned up your long evening gloves. Together you finished in good time, so in the end it was you who had to wait for Jungkook, struggling to decide on the manner to tie his cravat.

You took the carriage to Seokjin Kim’s country house; a ball was one of the few occasions you would bother to do so. Already a significant crowd had gathered, filling up the splendorous home, and Areum stood absolutely radiant in the center of it all, relishing her role as hostess.

“Miss Jeon!” she greeted you eagerly, taking your hands in her own. “I am so happy to see you, we will start the first dance soon. I would not have you miss it.”

At her words your eyes instinctively darted through the crowd for Park, though you could not find him at first glance. A string quartet played a lively tune, lifting up the ambiance even further, and you saw people making introductions and socialising.

Instead of Park, you found Mr. Namjoon Kim. He looked as smart as ever in a charcoal tailcoat with a green vest underneath. The dimples in his cheeks greeted you before he did as he disentangled himself from a conversation with Mrs. Lee and came over to you and Areum. “Miss Jeon, might I have the honour of your first dance?” he asked after a light bow, a cheery gleam to his eyes.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, I am afraid my first is spoken for,” you declined him with regret.

“Well then,” he said, “I shall have to wait for your second!”

You smiled at the ease of his recovery. “And I shall look forward to it,” you assured him, but let out a soft ‘oh’ when you finally located Jimin Park. Kim followed your line of sight and chuckled, then excused himself, presumably to find an available dance partner.

The bustle of people meant that Park needed some time to wade through them to reach you. Meanwhile you spotted the other newcomers, taking up much of the attention with people eager to be introduced to them. Hoseok Jung thrived in this environment, his smile brightening up the assembly room, but even he could not disperse the gloomy fog that surrounded Mr. Min, who shifted on his feet beside the sociable patron. Taehyung Kim had been captured by Mrs. Lee and her daughters, but appeared to handle the situation with grace.

Then Park stood in front of you, bowing while you curtsied, though he went through the formality with a playful slant to his lips. His eyes flickered to Areum, who strode to the center of the dance floor with Jung Hoseok by her side, then back to you.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Park winked, offering you his hand.

“For you? Never,” you teased, but allowed him to take you to the dance floor.

Other couples followed, including Seokjin Kim and his wife. Doyeon’s marital status meant she outranked Areum, but Areum’s position as hostess gave her the honour of leading the first dance. She could not have chosen a better partner; Mr. Jung proved to be one of the best dancers you ever had the pleasure of seeing. Effortlessly he glided over the floor, taking Areum with him in his wake. You and Park followed their lead, as did the other couples. The slow minuet allowed for conversation with relative ease, a fact you gladly took advantage of.

“It truly makes me happy to see you and Jungkook get along so well with Mr. Kim,” you said, moving gracefully through the sequence.

An accomplished dancer in his own right, Park accompanied you with poise and finesse. He smiled at your words. “Kim is a good man,” he said. “I’d say I was lucky to have met him, but then I’d be selling you short.”

You laughed in response. “And now you give me too much credit, Park! At the most I moved up your meeting by a few days.”

Though his smile stayed in place, something of the cheer faded from his eyes, leaving you to wonder what you had said wrong. He saw your confusion and sighed, shaking his head. A partner-switch temporarily broke you apart, but you kept your eyes on Park while you danced with Mr. Lee.

“I apologise,” he said once you were reunited. “It’s just… sometimes I forget you don’t call me by my given name any more.”

“No,” you said with a weak chuckle, no less confused, “not since we were little.”

Back when you were children. Back when Park took care of your brother even though he was only two years older; still a child himself but wanting to be there for the boy who lost his mother. Jungkook had been too young to truly understand what it all meant, but Park did.

You swallowed thickly, a sudden gratefulness swelling up from deep inside you.

And while your smile faltered, Park’s returned in full force. “I suppose I’m simply not used to your devotion to propriety these days.” He let out a soft giggle. “Not when I remember how you snuck frogs into my bed.”

“You deserved that,” you said pointedly, lifting your chin in a huff, but then you sighed, the breath filled with nostalgia. “I had to grow up sometime.”

“Hm,” he mused, “but at least you still remember how to hold a grudge. It is reassuring to know some things never change.”

The words came with a teasing lilt, but you could swear they physically struck you, causing you to almost trip when the dance called for another switch. Mr. Lee must have thought you a dreadful dance partner, so distracted by Park’s comment.

Was he implying you were too hard on Mr. Min? That you had to give him a second chance without any apology at all? You had not even spoken to the man since that first dinner together, a direct result of his avoidance of you.

Park was quick to see how his remark had affected you when you returned to his side. A rueful smile tugged at his lips and he squeezed your hand as you circled around each other. “Don’t pay me any mind,” he said. “Clearly I have turned into an old man already, sentimental about my wasted youth.”

You laughed at his dramatic statement. “Don’t even say that! You are younger than me,” you pointed out. “What does that make me then?”

“An elderly spinster,” he grinned, relishing your affronted gasp.

The moment of discomfort had passed, and you relaxed into the rest of the dance. When the song ended, it was with some reluctance that you and Park parted ways—until you remembered your promise to Namjoon Kim.

The gentleman waited with crinkled eyes as he smiled at you, and he led you into a faster paced reel. Joined by Jungkook and Areum, you laughed often as the dance took you through interlacing figures and sequences of complicated footwork.

As the dance ended, you were both elated and in desperate need of catching your breath. Mr. Kim brought you back into the crowd, where he left you with Doyeon and went to look for a new partner himself. She gave you a knowing smile; Doyeon had a talent for making you feel as though she was aware of your every secret.

“How are you tonight, Miss Jeon?”

You wondered how much Areum had relayed to her about your grievances, but when Doyeon’s gaze drifted over to the new figure approaching you, a meaningful look in her eyes, you wondered no longer.

Mr. Min joined you, though by the look of him you would think he was only here under threat of death. He hesitated, then bowed lightly. You and Doyeon curtsied in response, exchanging a glance when Min stood before you, chewing on the inside of his cheek and glancing off to the side.

Was he trying to swallow his pride, finally using this opportunity to make amends? You had been waiting for him to do so, of course, but surely this was not the right occasion?

“I hope you are well, Mr. Min,” Doyeon said, and you were grateful at least one of you still remembered her manners. The man truly unbalanced you.

“Ah, yes,” he said, his eyes flickering up for just a second. “Very well, thank you.”

“Don’t you think the music is excellent tonight? Areum worked hard to procure the services of this quartet,” she pressed on after a moment of clumsy silence. You couldn’t help but feel for her, trapped in the uncomfortable pressure between you and Mr. Min.

He nodded slowly, as though he needed a moment to process her words. “They are very good. Miss Kim should be proud of her efforts,” Min said, and finally his eyes met yours properly. For one brief moment, you were struck by the absurd notion he was about to ask you for a dance. Then he shook his head, and the moment passed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kim, Miss Jeon, you have to excuse me.”

His departure as sudden and awkward as his entrance, Mr. Min was gone.

“What… what just happened?” you asked Doyeon, but almost immediately another abrupt arrival interrupted your conversation.

Mr. Jung swept in with a cheerful greeting, the unexpectedness of his appearance the only similarity to Min’s clumsy manners. “Miss Jeon, may I be so bold as to ask you for your next dance?”

Though he caught you off guard, you still agreed gladly; his opening dance with Areum made you eager to have him as your partner. He provided easy conversation until the next set began, while Seokjin Kim came over to invite his wife to a round of whist. You pitied their poor opponents, their combined skill at cards left not many who stood a chance to beat them. A lethal couple indeed. You had no time to consider them for long though, because Mr. Jung led you to the dance floor with a charming smile.

To your own surprise, you found yourself fighting off a spot of nerves. Until now you had only talked to Mr. Jung in a group setting, and his undivided attention proved to be intimidating. However, you liked to think your heart was not so faint, and thus you smiled back at him as you took position for the dance.

It all started so well.

Mr. Jung delivered to your every expectation, floating over the dance floor with a grace that seemed contagious. Just a light touch of his hand was enough to lead you through the sequences with confidence and you felt like you were dancing on a cloud.

“So, I noticed Yoongi came to talk to you,” Mr. Jung said, and the cloud rained away from underneath you.

“I am not certain ‘talk’ is the appropriate word.”

He hummed. “I do hope my friend has not continued to make a bad impression on you,” he said, his tone playful but a glimmer of solemnity behind his eyes. “I’m sure I speak for him when I assure you he meant no offence.”

It occurred to you that perhaps Jung only asked you to dance because he saw your exchange with Mr. Min. If anything, you had to admire his loyalty. You sighed, thinking back on Yoongi Min’s clear discomfort. Something resembling a pinch of sympathy edged at your thoughts and you sought him out in the crowd. You found him conversing with Namjoon Kim, near the tables set up for cards.

He looked placid now, clearly favouring Mr. Kim’s companionship over yours. Then the latter whispered something to him and Min broke out in a laugh, the smile transforming his face. It highlighted just how soft his features actually were, and even from this distance you saw a hint of his gums, the sight strangely endearing.

Your mood soured at once.

“Yoongi would not have answered your brother’s question so honestly unless he esteemed you,” Jung said, taking your continued silence as a signal to persist. He did not sound unkind.

But the damage had been done.

“I do not mean to discredit your insights of Mr. Min,” you said, bitterness clinging to your tongue, “but I am decently sure of his esteem for me, and it is none.”

The final drop had spilled. You had grown weary of people’s insistence to defend the qualities of Mr. Min. Qualities he surely had (to accuse so many of your friends and acquaintances of lying would be unseemly), but deigned not to show you. If everyone else spoke of his kindness, and everyone else was granted his good humours, then his problem lay with you and you could think of nothing you had done to wrong him.

In this moment, more than ever, you felt justified to hold onto your resentment of Mr. Min.

Clearly Mr. Jung sensed he should drop the issue, focusing on the dance instead. You regretted disagreeing so openly with him, but a sudden exhaustion took hold of you and it took all your concentration just to keep up with the steps. After the dance finished, Jung moved on and you had a quiet moment to consider your words. You sighed and smoothed out your dress, fighting the urge to bite your lip.

As loathe as you were to admit it, Park had the truth of it when he said you still knew how to hold a grudge.

The following morning you immediately wrote a thank you note to Areum, showing your gratitude for her hospitality as proper. A routine task, yet you found your thoughts so scattered that the letter took far longer to finish than expected. After finally closing the envelope and handing it over to a servant, you considered taking a walk to clear your head. Except the idea of being outside, where you could possibly encounter other people, it wrapped around your chest in a rigid tightness, constricting your breath like a poorly fitted corset.

After your dance Mr. Jung had left you in decidedly cooler spirits than he had approached you, and you felt the sting of embarrassment over your behaviour. At the very least you could have pretended to humour his attempt at bridging the gap between you and his friend.

You took a walk around the drawing room with your maid but it failed miserably as a distraction. You tried a book of poetry, but the text swam in your vision, reading words without ever comprehending them. For a moment you entertained the idea of seeking out Jungkook for a bout of fencing, but your desire to isolate yourself won out.

In the end you winded up behind the pianoforte, fingers brushing over the keys without pressing down.

You sighed, the irony not lost on you that the one activity you associated with Mr. Min provided your best chance of forgetting about him. And indeed, the comfortable routine of your warm-up practise helped you find a quiet space inside your head. By the time you had gone through them, you did not hesitate to go through Haydn’s sonata again, a test performance with both hands.

Diligently you had been practising with just your left, and though perhaps your own opinion was not the most impartial, you thought yourself much improved. The hours of rehearsal were paying themselves back; you would never be an effortless virtuoso, but your execution of the first two movements approached the level of a performance more than acceptable. Perhaps even decent.

To your frustration, you caught yourself blundering during the slower andante, little mistakes slipping past you as you struggled to coordinate your hands. With a deep sigh you stopped, gathered yourself, then returned to the part where your trouble began and went back to using only your left hand.

Patience, you told yourself. Patience was all you needed. Patience… or perhaps obstinacy. That was a trait you had plenty of, and its power had always gotten you very far. You played through the andante with deliberation, repeating every part where you faltered. But eventually you reached the end of the movement, finishing with a satisfied smile.

The piercing sound of a lonely applause suddenly rang through the drawing room.

You startled, but only for a second. This was not an uncommon occurrence; Jungkook enjoyed quietly slipping inside to listen to you play, unaware of an audience other than your personal attendant. “Jungkook, I didn’t hear you co—” you said as you turned around, then froze again when you saw not one, but two spectators.

Jungkook, as expected… and Mr. Min.

His dark eyes studied you carefully, something undecipherable in his gaze. If you were not careful you would be trapped by him, that you knew for certain. You quickly averted your eyes, your attention drawn to the envelope in his hand.

“You sounded great today,” Jungkook complimented, then patted Mr. Min on the shoulder. “Min has some business with you, so I will leave you be.”

Before you had the chance to think of an excuse to keep him in the room, Jungkook was gone. Fortunately your lady’s maid stayed in attendance, saving you from scandal, but even so you still felt abandoned.

Mr. Min cleared his throat, tugging at his cravat before he spoke.

“It is good to see you again, Miss Jeon,” he said with a light bow, awkward, and you quickly stood up to curtsy in return. “I’m afraid I created a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

He nodded, stepping further into the room until he hesitated and came to a halt.

“Oh, please sit!” you invited him, remembering your manners, but he shook his head and remained standing in the middle of the drawing room.

“I was, uh, I came here to deliver this letter but your brother insisted I talked to you in person,” Min said, scratching his cheek. “He is a very persuasive young man.”

Despite your discomfort, your smile was genuine. “That he is.”

“But what I am here for…” he said, then trailed off for a second, as though trying to arrange the words in his head. Clearly he had not expected to be speaking to you. “Hoseok led me to understand you believe I have no esteem for you.”

You winced, having not expected Mr. Jung to be so frank with Min about your conversation. “I apologise, I—”

The words slipped out before you fully realised what you were saying, and you would have been annoyed at the fact you were apologising to Mr. Min if not for the hand he held up to stop you. “No,” he said firmly. “I am the one who should apologise. I should never have spoken so bluntly to you at Mr. Kim’s.”

Your hands clutched at your dress, restless as you tried to process the situation. This was a good thing, was it not? Why the sudden knot in your stomach?

“Then I aggravated the situation by not making amends at once. I thought…” He hummed lowly, lips drawn in a tight line. “I thought it better to keep my distance from you, to spare—”

He interrupted himself, looking away for a moment, then met your eyes again with a steady gaze.

“No, that was not honest of me,” Min said, frowning. “I did think you would prefer to avoid my company, but I was also embarrassed by my mistake. I will not make excuses for that. So instead… I apologise for any hurt I have caused you, and wish you to know that I do, in fact, esteem you. Highly.”

His eyes flickered to your maid, who stood just behind you, as though only now remembering you were not actually alone. It took you a moment to realise he had finished speaking, waiting for your response, and you stammered clumsily.

“I— Thank you, Mr. Min,” you said, ducking your head. “I appreciate your visit, truly.”

The platitude was an inadequate response to his words, but you could not muster any more.

Mr. Min chewed the inside of his cheek, nodding as though you had said something more profound. “Thank you for hearing me out, Miss. I will leave you be,” he said, and began to turn away. Just as he stood at the door opening he paused, and looked at you over his shoulder with a pensive smile. “I hope this is not out of line, but you made some remarkable progress. Quite impressive.”

Then he was gone, leaving you to wonder just how long he and Jungkook had been listening to you play.

Something heavy weighed down on you, your hands digging into the fabric of your dress. You finally had the apology you so wanted, that you deserved.

So why did you feel so burdened?

It was not until much later that you realised he never gave you the letter.

→ pt. 2 💕

seven mates ❤️‍🔥

I’m excited for Proof but also expected a full new album and am sad that we aren’t getting that. I will still support the guys, and I will get more excited the close to June 10 we get, but I don’t feel like I can publicly admit to feeling a little sad. One thing that is tough about being ARMY is that if you don’t love everything 100%, you might be canceled or called a fake fan or an anti. Last week my friend was told to unalive herself because she said, on Twitter, that she found it jarring that PSY said the pandemic was over in That That.

hello darling, welcome💕

on THIS blog we do not attack fellow ARMYs for having an opinion that's not 100% fawning adoration and support for BTS. on THIS blog we have a grip on reality and that's the way it's gonna stay, dammit.

here's what i will say about the album debate. it is totally fair that some people are bummed because they expected (i mean, i think we all expected) a full-length album. i think most of us were surprised to hear it wasn't.

but i was sent something yesterday that actually makes a lot of sense. it says that BTS is sitting on a trove of new music they're dying to release but the group/company are both not sure of how to proceed until the issue of military enlistments is hammered out.

this article excerpt really says it all. HYBE management has been pressing korea's government for a decision because it's impacting how all seven of them are able to plan their futures:

and you certainly cannot blame them for not wanting to go full court press on an album they aren't sure they can fully promote & tour on.

so my impression is that this is the compromise they came up with. put out new music because the fans want it, only do three new songs, do an anthology to keep the momentum going.

i honestly think we'll hear more about a full album release as soon as korea makes a final decision on how and when they will serve.

TL:DR: girl, you aren't a fake ARMY for being disappointed. and if i ever see someone telling someone else to unalive themselves for sharing a contrary opinion/reaction on BTS i will PERSONALLY mail them a square of sod to touch.

Things Bts has said that sound like incorrect quotes but it’s 100% organic. Whether you like Bts or not, these are funny you are welcome to enjoy.