. *

𝐦é𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞 •°. *࿐

🎻 feat: violinist!jun x violinist!reader, victorian era, enemies to lovers (kind of)

🎻 warnings: mentions of physical abuse (not explicit), mentions of cheating (but no one cheated)!!! not the best e2l i'm very sorry

🎻word count: ~11k

🎻 summary: in an era of music and dance, of dukes and arranged marriages, there is only one man whom you fight tooth and nail to play at the same tempo as -- legendary violinist wen junhui. people fall over themselves to dance to a song he plays, and festivities from all over the land request the pleasure of his attendance.

portraits are painted, praises sung of him, but you've only ever known him as your stiffest competition, in a society where outstanding women are frowned upon, reduced to mere puppets in the shadow of men. yet, amid domineering voices and too-loud presences, you have no option but to understand that he was the melody that played his way into your heart.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1870, November 11th

"Your Grace," You reach for the Duchess' outstretched hand as you exit the carriage, your other hand lifting your gown, the horses skittering as they reach a complete stop.

"My dear Y/N! It has been too long since you have graced our court," The Duchess seems pleased to meet you as she clutches your hand tightly, you squeezing it in return.

"It has been long," You agree. "It is an honour to play for the annual ball once more."

"Nonsense!" She trills a laugh, her hand coming up to cover herself. "Truly, it is our greatest blessing to be able to hear your music."

You smile in gratitude as she leads you towards the palace. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm looking forward to performing for you as well."

"I'll have someone send up your bags to your rooms," She adds, continuing to walk you in. "The estate is busy today, what with the company we're having... and the two greatest violinists of our time!"

Your smile freezes on your face. It can't be, it's not possible--

"Of course, we're not expecting Sir Wen Junhui just yet, but I like the staff to be well-prepared-"

Wen Junhui. Of course, it had to be him.

"My dear? Are you alright?" The Duchess asks you, concern on her face. "I didn't have you just now."

"My apologies, Your Grace," You immediately say, a smile plastered on your face. "I...I must have been tired. Carriage journeys have never really been my preference."

"Of course, how could I forget!" The duchess sighs, before turning to the servants trailing behind. "Ensure Miss Y/N has everything she needs. She must be in tip-top condition for the ball." At the servants' bow, she turns back to you. "I must return to the preparations," she tells you. "Will you be alright heading to your rooms by yourself? The servants will lead you."

"Of course, Your Grace," You curtsy. "You really didn't have to lead me in, it was too much trouble. Please, I wish not to disturb you further."

Again, her tinkling laugh. "What words! You could never be a trouble to me, my dear friend."

You bid your farewell and as she leaves, the servants motioning to lead you to your chambers.

You shake your head lightly as you resume the walk. Wen Junhui, in the same place as you. What luck.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"You two surely have met, given your professions," The Duke tells you as he beckons to a tall man you know all too well. "It is my understanding that you both played for His Majesty's coronation the previous year."

"Indeed we did," His velvet-like voice, thinly masking his hostility, returns. "It was charming to be in her company."

"As if." Your mutter, thankfully, goes unheard by the Duke. Junhui, however, picks up on it, what with those sensitive ears of his that supposedly make him an oh-so-amazing violinist, and raises his eyebrows at you.

The Duke excuses himself soon after to find his wife, which leaves you and Junhui standing alone. His waistcoat, laced with what you recognise to be one of the finest silks in the market, rustles with his movement as he turns and faces you properly.

He bows to you in mock politeness. "My pleasure to be in your delightful company once more, Miss L/N."

You roll your eyes. "Skip the formality, for our sakes."

Amusement laces his cat-like features. "If you say so, treasure." The term of endearment stirs more irritation in you.

The hostility between you two dated back to your teens. Fresh out in the world and eager for opportunity, you tried to become the court violinist in the royal orchestra, to prove yourself not just as a talent but as a woman, only to be turned away with the memo that a violinist had already been chosen, the only one the court was looking for, and it had been Junhui, all lanky limbs but with the fervour of a highly determined seventeen-year-old.

And at the birthday celebration of a royal you didn't remember, for which your family watched from the gates, you heard him play for the very first time. The symphony the orchestra had played, the seamless chords and semiquavers that had flowed from his relentless fingers on the strings, and the firm press of the glowing horsehair of his bow had impressed every person in the audience. Except for you.

No, you were bitter, so, so, bitter, that the one chance you had strived for your whole life had been taken from right through your fingers.

From then on, you had been known, amongst many in your small town, not very kindly, to be the "young lady who had dared to pit herself against Wen Junhui".

Your mother and father had taken the remarks in shame, beginning to discourage you from pursuing music. Yet, you had taken no heed, continuing to find all ways to continue what had become your lifeline.

And as he soared, both in skill and in fame, to become the most popular violinist of the age, you worked equally hard at your art, staining your fingers with cuts and your wrists with injury as you strived to reach his heights.

And you had run into luck, for an academy run by a sharp-tongued man scouted you at a performance at your local church. Before long, you were on the stage, flitting from event to celebration, just as you dreamed. You played concertos and partitas to your heart's content, did opening acts for renowned orchestras, and headlined the stage in the courts of various nations, eager to keep climbing the ladder towards the goal that was Junhui.

But no matter your greviances, you truly enjoyed the stage. It was everything you had. You took pride in your work, you blushed at compliments, and you appreciated every chance there was to step on the stage and perch the four-stringed instrument on your shoulder.

Then came the day when you met your competitor for the very first time, performing at a gala held for a local lord. He'd looked at you, no doubt recognising you based on the gossip circulating around, and raised an eyebrow in teasing recognition before shaking his head and simply turning away. No formalities were exchanged, even though you were fully intending to be civil.

From then on, you both maintained a stoic but unspoken rivalry, making sniping remarks when you had the misfortune of meeting. Yet, years after it all started, here he was, standing in front of you, on a stage you would soon share.

And as luck would have it, a courtier walked over. Park, you remembered his last name with some effort. He had been the first to object when the court invited you to play at this ball. The papers had published his account of why you shouldn't be involved (boringly long, you thought).

"My, my, if it isn't the two legends of our time," He drawled, in a voice that grated on your nerves. "I must say, having you both on the same stage is rather...shocking."

Junhui raises his brows. "And what prompted that belief?"

"Oh, but doesn't everyone know of your rivalry, sir! Years upon years of competition of talent."

You let out a light laugh, leaning forward to the smug courtier to jest. "And which of us would you prefer, sir?"

His smirk is nothing short of hateful, you decide, when he replies, "Captivating as your music is, my charming lady, I find Sir Wen Junhui's music simply...breathtaking. Perhaps a fine man, bestowing his heavenly talents upon us all, is much welcomed now."

Junhui's smirk is even more hateful, you determine when he walks past you, Courtier Park in tow, his hand raising to pat your shoulder, which you brush off roughly, saying under his breath, "Better luck next time. Looks like you won't be playing in his court any time soon."

"Rot in hell."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"Oh, how wonderful that you both will be sharing the stage this time!" The Duchess claps her hand in appreciation after each of you plays excerpts of your performance pieces.

"It's an honour," Junhui replies, bowing low. You curtsey, noting the way the Duke nods at Courtier Park after.

"Refresh yourselves," The Duke instructs. "We will see you at the celebrations. We're looking forward to both of your performances."

You can't bring yourself to look interested when Junhui turns to you. "As am I." The smug, arrogant twinkle in his eyes does not go amiss.

You curtsey once more and at the couple's nods, stride out of the room, Junhui behind you.

"The Divertimento No.17 by Mozart," He muses. "A fitting choice. You always liked the cheer."

"And you could only dream of appreciating them."

"Snippy as ever, treasure," Junhui answers patronisingly, as easy as counting.

"Yes, well, you are no different from the last time we met," You reply coldly, turning a corner. "Stop following me."

"Our rooms are nearby, treasure," He drawls, leaning against the wall. "Remind me again why you're being so delightful?"

"Why, huh," You sneer back, turning to face him. "Where to start? Why are you even here?"

"Why am I here?" He echoes. "My dear, I was invited. As were you. Through our wonderful years of being around each other, you would know I dislike performing for the royals. I agreed because I owed His Grace a favour."

"Of course you did," You mutter. "Well, I'll get going. Go find your next person to terrorise, you take joy in that anyway."

His chuckles go on as you walk off, the skirts of your dress fanning out behind you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

Notes, one after another, flow like water out of his bow, in rapid semiquavers and strong crotchets, chords easing through the strings as easy as the alphabet.

You can't deny Wen Junhui is a phenomenal performer.

It's two waltzes before your piece comes up, and the guests of the ball are mingling, filling in dance cards, getting to know one another. You see a few familiar faces, ladies of society whom you'd seen on other occasions. The Duke and the Duchess took the dance floor earlier, and are now nursing glasses of carefully brewed liquor, laughing and entertaining.

The head of the estate's entertainment announces your appearance, and you step up in front of the orchestra. At your cue, the piano launches into the familiar cheerful chord.

And off you go from there. You laser-focus yourself on every note, the vibrato you'd honed to perfection. And thankfully, all goes without a hitch, leading to resounding applause as people break away from their dance partners.

The Duchess bustles to you after you bow and get down. "My dear, that was magical."

"Oh," You smile at her gushing compliment. "Thank you. I enjoyed myself."

"And so you should," The Duke encourages, walking up next to his wife. "What a stunning job you've done."

The Duchess hums in agreement before exclaiming. "Right! I was coming to say, the governors want you and Sir Wen Junhui to dance together."

You stiffen. "I'm sorry?"

“As a sign of goodwill,” The Duke says. “Not very customary, given that you have no real ties to each other, but we think it would be nice. Not to mention, you both ought to loosen up and enjoy yourselves tonight. Do you not agree?”

You’re about to politely decline, but an arm slides around your arm and tugs you closer. Just a little. “Of course we do. Thank you for the offer, Your Grace.” Junhui nods at the beaming couple.

The Duchess smiles at you as her husband nods, satisfied and ready to help her to the dance floor again. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“I—”

“Hush,” Junhui croons as he sweeps you into his arms and across the floor in an elegant turn, the beginning notes of another popular waltz playing out. “We are meant to revel. Look at the atmosphere we’ve created. We ought to enjoy the fruition of our work, no?”

“Shut up.”

He smirks slightly at you. “As you please. You’re not a bad dancer, I see.”

You curse silently. In the distraction of the banter, your feet had automatically stepped alongside his, rhythmically and physically attuned as one — one body and one being.

Heavens, you hated it.

“Fall silent at praises?” He raises his brows.

You snort. “Why should I if it comes from you?”

He gasps in mock hurt. “You wound me, truly.”

“Oh, forgive me,” You simper, a sweet smile on your face. “Whatever should I do with that information?”

And back and forth it went again, till the last cadenza played. His confident and suave digs, your sarcastic and impatient snipes.

He lets go of you as the crowd starts mingling again, and smiles. “It was a pleasure. We’ll meet again.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your palm, winks and disappears into the throng, leaving you looking appalled at your hand.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1871, January 17th

“You want me to what?”

“Keep your voice down,” Your father urges.

“Oh, forgive me for being surprised that you’re marrying me off.”

“Daughter,” He says sternly, putting down his paper. “It’s Merchant Park’s son. A finely educated, young man. You will not do any worse with him. At the very least, it would make you seem more like the desired lady you are.”

“And what of my music?” You demand. “I have to put a stop to my dreams? On your order?”

“Dear,” Your mother cautions, then addresses your father. “Husband, we should tell her the truth. The deal is signed, anyway.”

Deal. You’re being sent to some stranger over a deal.

“We are not doing well, you know this,” Your father explains.

“I have told you, the commissions I get from the Lords and the palace—”

Your father holds up his hand. “Let me finish.”

“We need help to keep our estate and our rights,” He continues. “Merchant Park has very kindly provided a deal for us: a monetary exchange in return for a bride. As Mr. Nathaniel Park has proved himself a true man, we saw no reason to turn down such a win-win offer: a groom for our daughter and enough to sustain us.”

You clench your fists. “And you didn’t think to ask my opinion on all this? When I am the one to marry?”

Your father eyes you. “Daughter, things in other households are far worse. Some do not even know until the night before the matrimony. You might consider yourself lucky.”

You look to your mother, but she trains her eyes on her tea and doesn’t reply.

A painful lump forms in your throat. “Is there no other way?”

Your father shakes his head. “Not one as beneficial as this.”

“And will it ensure prosperity and stability for the rest of your days?”

He nods. “We will do much better than before.”

You blow out a resigned breath. “When will it be?”

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1871, March 1st

Church bells ring, shouts are heard.

You marry Mr Nathaniel Park in the nearest church to his estate. It has been the talk of the town, and throngs have turned up to see a wealthy merchant's son marry a talent of the nation.

Everyone, except for your families, seem to be under the impression that you had been seeing each other in secret for years, and had finally emerged to take the next step.

It’s all nonsense, every last detail, but the very same nonsense made it to the papers by next morning.

You leave your family home that night to start your life with Nathaniel.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, June 28th

You were bored out of your mind.

Your violin was locked up goodness knows where, and Nathaniel had explicitly said he had no intention of letting you return to the stage as a career.

It had killed you a little inside, but it was to little surprise. Men like Nathaniel and his equally unbearable father were common. And you had fully expected to be controlled and restricted in return for your family’s benefit.

Except you had severely underestimated how much time the violin occupied. With nothing to do and only so much overseeing of the estate you could do, you were about to go insane.

Worse, Nathaniel had been in a dark mood as people in the streets had started gossiping.

Because while Wen Junhui had continued to travel far and wide to showcase his talents, his rival (yes, you) had suddenly stopped doing the same — so suddenly that it was downright suspicious.

And your temporary reprieve came when an invite for a local lord’s ball came by the estate. In it, it urged for both your attendance and a a suggestion for you to perform. It seemed like a good chance for Nathaniel to turn the tide and assure society that you were still fulfilling your dream, and to quell any rumours.

Your fingers were rusty, so it was to your shock when Nathaniel allowed you to play and practice for a couple of hours.

“For the ball,” He warned. “Only for the ball. I cannot have people speculating why my wife has suddenly stopped performing publicly.”

It was better than nothing, you surmise.

And so it is to your greatest pride that you stand once again on the stage, performing a sonata you’d long since learnt by heart, the guests clapping and in awe.

And after you get off the stage, you use the start of yet another dance to allow yourself to be whisked away by your husband. But your impatience returns once you see who your dance partner is.

“I thought I’d come keep you company since it has been a while,” Wen Junhui smiles lazily at you as he captures your hand in his. “Congratulations are in order, I see.”

You shrug.

“Funny how the papers said you’d been seeing each other for a long while. A secret dalliance, did that paperboy say? Wonder where that came from.”

"Be quiet."

He does not, in fact, keep quiet.

“Dashing man,” He nods towards your husband, who is doing an awful job of hiding his scowl at you dancing with another. “Tell him to loosen up and smile a little. After all, his wife is the star of tonight.”

“Shut up.”

“Not proud of your matrimony?” He has a saccharine tone which you decide you really hate.

“You know nothing.”

“Huh.” His grin drops, no longer pleasant, as you take another turn around the floor, falling perfectly into place with other dancers. “Someone is snippy today.”

“Would you please stop?” You demand hotly. It’s not as if you would admit right this second that this marriage was what you want. “If you have nothing genuinely good to say, why don’t you—”

"Oh, so you want me to be quiet, huh?"

His eyes are now suddenly simmering with both mild anger and something else, perhaps impatience. With that same burning expression on his face, he grips your hand and hauls you toward him.

The abrupt and rough action makes you release a squeak of surprise, and his other hand catches your head in time to adjust it on his chest.

You struggle. "We are in public! Unhand me this instant!"

"I told you, be quiet."

"What?!"

"Be quiet and listen," He demands, pressing your head to his chest, using the throng of dancers and people to hide you from Nathaniel. "Listen and tell me what you hear."

You scowl up at him. "Is this a joke?"

"What do you hear?"

"Your heartbeat, like a normal living person?" You snarl. "What more is there?"

"Listen again."

After a brief pause, you ask him, "Why is it racing?"

He glares at you. "Exactly."

"What do you mean, exactly? That was not even my questi-"

"My God, use your brain for once," He sighs impatiently. "If I truly hated you, would I have picked you as my dance partner? Would I have offered you my company and my well-wishes? Would I, Y/N?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"Forget it," he snarls, biting his lip in impatience. "Go and be with your husband. Last I heard, he was looking for your whereabouts." He strides away, leaving you stunned.

And even as Nathaniel meets you and berates you for leaving his side, and as you get back into the homebound carriage with him, your mind stays only on Junhui.

If I truly hated you, would I have picked you as my duet partner?Would I have offered you my company and my well-wishes?

Would I, Y/N?

You lean your head on the back of the carriage, the lights of the city wide awake, even with the lateness of the hour, your mind whirling with thoughts you didn't know were true.

His racing heartbeat, your racing mind. He didn't hate you. The real question now was... did you hate him? Still?

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 4th

It's a rainy afternoon when everything falls apart. Nathaniel is in a horrible mood, and you're about to lose your mind.

No music, since he took it away from you once you got home. No money to seek any kind of entertainment, since he's in charge of the estate's finances. You can't even go out on a ride, since he's ordered the footmen to keep you within the property.

“What’s going on between you and Mr. Wen?” You look up at his seething question as he strides in and throws the morning paper down on the table in front of you. “It has been months and columns are still writing about you two!”

“What am I supposed to do, tell the writers to stop?” You ask drily, and a sudden strong fist grabs your arm and a blunt impact is unceremoniously struck to your face.

You freeze, blood running cold.

Nathaniel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest that he just hit his wife.

He grunts in displeasure. “Heavens, I’ll have to explain these articles to our family again.” He makes a tutting sound at you and strides out of the room, massaging his hand and rotating his wrist.

Amidst everything, the painful swell of your cheek and arm, the humiliation you feel, and the anger that courses through you, you can only think of one thing.

One person.

And so Junhui has the shock of his life when you turn up, panting and soaked in the downpour, at the gates of his estate. Your fine gown is as good as ruined, your updo plastered over your face. Your makeup is running, and Junhui wastes no time pulling you indoors.

"I didn't know where else to go," You murmur, strength sapped, and he says nothing, only signals to his servants to get towels and new clothes.

As he surveys you, his eyes widen in disgust and shock, and he takes your shoulders in his warm and gentle grip. "Was this him? Sir Park's son?"

At your unsettling silence, he repeats his question, more firmly this time. "Did he do this to you?"

For the first time in maybe your life, you meet his eyes fully. There is anger in his eyes, so raw and so deep, that you feel your eyes start burning again.

As you bow your head to blink the tears away, he lifts your chin to meet his eyes once more. "You have never shied away from me. Of all times, my treasure, I would beg you not to hide now."

You stay silent, and he repeats his question, each word more strained than the last.

You nod imperceptibly, confirming his worst fears.

"God," He groans, leaning forward to hold your hands in his large ones. "If I were a swordsman and not a musician, he would be gutted like a fish."

You try to crack a smile, but it just doesn't come out right. "You're not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be," He returns. "But whilst we are on this subject, perhaps my bow could do the job. It's sharp enough."

That finally coaxes a small, broken smile out of you, and his shoulders release slightly at the sight.

His servants return with the requested items, and after pushing you into a room with an adjoining chamber to dry off and get changed, he sits you down as he tends to you. Still shaken, you just let him, and you watch silently as he presses a small makeshift ice pack to your face, made of soft towels and crushed ice meant for drinks.

Occasionally, he brushes a hand through your hair to detangle it and let it dry. It's so... domestic, painfully so, and you're fully aware of how hard your heart is pounding.

"I hate you," His voice suddenly comes through, and you look up as they register. "I hate you so much, you know that?"

Your voice is hoarse as you reply. "I know. I know it all."

"I hate that you're here, in my estate. I detest the sight of you. I hate that we're here, only being civil under circumstances like these, and I loathe beyond comprehension that he did this to you. I hate it so much, but I despise you the most for not coming to my door the second it happened."

Your eyes sting again with tears, and he reaches up to wipe at them, his eyes the most tender you've ever seen.

"Do not shed tears for a man so undeserving," He murmurs. "It is unbecoming, you know."

"I know," You choke. "I didn't want to."

"Forget about him." His voice resounds like thunder. "You should not remain with a monster like him for your family. You are your own person, and your fate is in your hands."

He turns his attention back to the bruise on your arm, tending to it with the same gentleness and precision a tinker had with music boxes.

He called for medicine, clothed and fed you, only to hear you confess three hours later. "I must return before dawn. He will be seeking me out, and I can't have him come to your estate and make trouble."

"No." His firm refusal shot a pang into your heart.

"Junhui. I must."

"You will not return to that hellhole. It's my order."

"I have to, my family-"

"Would want their daughter to be whole and hale." His voice is deep and fierce, so much angrier than you've ever heard.

"I would not see you ruin yourself for a godforsaken life with him. If he can hit you once, and to this extent," he motions to you, "He will do it again and again. Each time even harder than the last. You will die at his hands!"

"The deal-"

"The money is the last thing on my mind!" He exclaims, now agitated. "I do not care about the riches or the deal your family has made with anyone. I just want you to be safe. I want you to be happy. Are you happy, locked up in a great lonely house with him, giving up on the art you have honed all your life, becoming his puppet and a shell of what you once were, only to be hit as if you are worth nothing?"

You shake your head, as if trying to shake off his words. "I know, you're right, Junhui, god! You are right about it all. But my family... they are everything to me. I worked all this time just so I could go home to them someday and live our days out in comfort. I...I cannot forsake them now. Not when they will be thrown into the streets and shamed if they do not honour the contract."

"Then stay here with me," He pleads. "I will handle all of it. I'll make sure no one gets hurt. You can perform and do everything to your heart's desire and I will never hold you back. Please."

"I cannot burden you with my issues!" You shout, choking back a poorly concealed sob, hands reaching to your hair to tug on it in frustration. "Please, Junhui, please, just... let me be. Live your life and let me live mine."

"You chose to come here tonight. Yet now you ask me to stay out this. How can I, if you're making a choice that may very well get you killed?!"

"I will not. You know that. I'm strong enough to handle it."

"Do you even know what you are handling?" He demands hotly. "A violent barbarian who knows only use his fists against a blameless lady and her family -- do you have any idea how horrendous that sounds?!"

You take a deep breath. "I-"

"I will open my gates to you and your family. I will give you my home, my sanctuary and protection, anything you will ever need. But in return, all I ask is that you leave that place. Leave someone who will never care for you the way you should be cared for."

"I can't, I can't. The world is in my way, his family-- they would never view me or respect me the way I want. Not as a musician who worked her way to the top. They will see me as a mere town-girl who seduced him for money and ran off with it. Everything I've done to make sure people never see me that way-- I can't handle that."

"And so you pick them, their satisfaction and influence, over your own fate?" He asks incredulously. "That strong, stubborn, steadfast woman I know -- where is she?"

"I am not picking. It is my only option! You have seen how the governors and men of the court see me, even as a musician in comparison to you. I would suffer that tenfold, and worse, my family will go the same path. I would rather die than allow it to happen, even if I must suffer."

The whole room goes silent, save for your breathing and his ragged pants.

His nose flares and his eyes narrow. His voice turns colder than the cruel winters of the land. "Is that what you truly mean?"

"..Yes. Yes."

After what seems like an eternity, he nods, so slightly you almost don't catch it. His lips curl, whether in disgust or mock of your decision, you do not know. He looks the most disappointed you've ever seen him. "Fine. Then let him destroy you. Let the people who do not matter, do not care about you tear you to shreds. Perhaps you were right, and I was the one meddling too much. I apologise." He starts walking away.

"Junhui-" You begin as you clutch his arm, dread running down your spine, but he simply looks at your hands wrapped around his with the indifference you thought was all he had. He looks at your pleading eyes, your shaking posture. He wants nothing more than to tell you how he feels, the immense frustration that you just won't let him be there for you... but through his raging emotions, his mouth stays shut.

"You can leave as you want," He says, all the emotion from prior gone. He finally looks you in the eye, his own betraying only the smallest hint of anguish and something you can't quite place. "I will not hold you back if that's what you desire. I just hope you will be happy with your decision, Y/N."

And then he's gone, leaving you to sink down in the middle of the room and cry into your hands, the finery of the gown he clothed you in now a mess around you.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 5th

"You have returned."

Not quite a question, but you nod to your husband, who is currently lounging on a newly embroidered couch, eyeing you up and down with something close to disdain in his eyes.

"Costume yourself. Conceal everything well. There is another ball tonight in honour of a newly debuted painter, and we must attend."

Fantastic. Yet another function where you would be on his arm, hang on to his every word, pretend to love him. "Must-"

Nathaniel raises his hand and you flinch. He lowers it, head tilting. "You heard me."

You head up to your chambers in silence.

Your tears flow as you dress yourself as instructed, every puff of makeup lowered to your face doing a terrible job of hiding the marks on your face, the exhausted swell of your eyes.

Fine. Then let him destroy you, Junhui had said bitterly.

He probably already had, you thought. In ways no one would ever see.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"Sir Park!" Court ladies and gentlemen alike hailed your husband as he helped you out of the carriage, painting the picture of a perfect husband. You see your mother, dressed in finery, looking awkward and uncomfortable with the current company. You start excusing yourself to walk to her, but Nathaniel holds you to him, glaring down at you with a fake grin plastered on his face. "What are you doing?" He hisses furiously under his breath.

"I am going to see my mother," You hiss back through gritted teeth, venom in your voice, a sweet smile fixed on your face as if you were exchanging an intimate secret. "Or would you prefer I scream for help, darling?"

He releases you immediately. "Be back swiftly. People will wonder of your whereabouts."

Without responding, you make your way through the crowd, smiling and bowing slightly to the upperclassmen who greet you. When you reach your mother, she visibly relaxes, reaching out to clasp your hand.

"My dear girl," She says, trying to smile. "You seem to have lost weight. Are you well?"

"Very, Mother," You reply, through a fake smile.

Concern shines in her eyes, and she tries to continue. "Daughter. Don't make the same mistakes I did, trying to keep defying your father. There are times where we must step back, and you might find that... life gets easier. The frustration will ease."

Would the frustration and pain of your marriage really fade? Would you, like Junhui insisted, be reduced to a hollow shell, numbed to everything and allow yourself to be treated like an unloved rag doll? Would you, after everything you did to make a woman out of yourself... become a meek and obedient arm candy, the one thing you never wanted to be?

As you pull away from your mother with a quiet excuse, you hear pleasantries being called to a new guest, and you turn to find Junhui, who clearly just entered the ballroom, staring directly at you.

You're not sure if your eyes look imploring enough, but it doesn't seem to work. Junhui turns away, and for the rest of the evening, you do not catch his eye.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 21st

Days pass and you still play the perfect wife.

The order is exactly the same. You attend balls, play one or two customary pieces for Nathaniel to receive the oohs and ahhs of your talent, and at the end of the night, you return to your great, lonely house and sleep alone.

Soon after you got home from the ball, Nathaniel received an invitation to a business conference with the lords of Sicily. He had, after careful deliberation, decided to bring you.

Fine, you think. At least with the business, he might be too busy to keep you in line all day.

Nathaniel hasn't hit you since that night, but you're constantly on tenterhooks, on edge that his anger might blow once more. It's a ticking time bomb at home, and not much better outside. It isn't as if you have anyone to lament to about your marital troubles.

Your impatience is getting worse day by day. You already know the deal could easily be nullified, with the riches you know your family has received, but your parents still have no intention of setting you free. And so, on a warm Tuesday afternoon, three springtimes after it all started, you make your decision, rash and unchecked.

"I want to leave."

"What?"

"I cannot live like this. Not as your trophy wife. I wasn't born for this."

"And where will you go?" Nathaniel sneers. "Who will have you, a once-married woman?"

"It matters not where I go," You shoot, "You have no business knowing. As long as I am away from you, you asshole!"

"Oh, I would be very entertained," He replies coldly, a mocking smile set upon his hateful face. "I would like to know which man would take in the likes of you, even if you go to Sicily and start anew. Or maybe Sir Wen Junhui has already defiled-"

You slap him hard. He clutches his cheeks, turning red from the impact and from his rage. "You dirty little rat-"

"You are the vermin that thinks that way," You seethe. "You are the problem here. Not me, not Junhui, not my family. This isn't about the deal we made with your father anymore. It is purely because I am a woman that you are behaving this way. If anything is being defiled here, it is my dignity and your reputation."

He scoffs. "And you really believe some good Samaritan will voluntarily take you in and give you a bright future? Even if you believe so, you will end up the same way, in their kitchens, whether in Sicily or anywhere in the world. I am doing you a favour."

He steps closer. "But perhaps you already have someone in mind? ...Sir Wen Junhui, perhaps?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "What's this got to do with him?"

"Oh, you don't fool me," He laughs humourlessly. "You think I never see the way his eyes move to you when you're in the same room? You think I don't notice how you glance at him? And those few moments at the painter's ball last month. Care to explain that, my dear wife?"

"We are not on good terms." You hiss, stepping up to him. "Shame on you that you think otherwise, because there is nothing going on. I am no cheating liar."

"Perhaps not," He muses. "But I would pay good money to see what he thinks of you."

You stand your ground. "I want a divorce. That's all I want. I can return all the money you want to you in due course. Just set me free."

"Let's see what the courts think of that," He challenges, and you clench your teeth, anger overriding you like never before. "Your whole family will crash and burn with you. All because of your erroneous ways."

You stride away from him, out the estate doors, and his condescending, bitter voice resounds in your head, eyes wide in the face of your rebellion. "You don't know men the way you think you do, Y/N. Mark my words. Wen Junhui will not take you in no matter what he says. Women only have one fate, and you sealed it the moment we married."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

Junhui opens the door and swears it's deja vu.

Mere weeks ago he did the same thing, only for you to break his heart in a span of a few hours. He surmises that it must be the same situation tonight.

Nevertheless, he opens the door to your panting figure wordlessly and lets you enter. You look sheepish as you adjust your gown, body heaving with the effort it took to run here, but he does nothing.

No, if he gave in and comforted you, he did not think he could risk another heartbreak.

You beat him to it. "I'm sorry I came," You start hesitantly. He stays silent, so you continue.

"Nathaniel, he-"

"Forgive me, but I do not wish to hear details of your marriage. You said it yourself, your life is not my concern." He knows he is being petty, but this was the only way he knew he would not overstep.

"It-"

"What more do you have to say to me?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the bell of his estate rings and you glance at him, petrified. You mouth the words as if the visitor would hear, Nathaniel? His jaw clenches instinctively.

He quickly ushers you into another room, a safe distance from the sitting room where they would still be in earshot. "Stay put," He warns.

He leaves for the main door, and you can hear him exchanging greetings with a man's voice, all too familiar.

It is Nathaniel. You expected it.

"Please, sit. Can I offer you a drink?"

"No need for formality. I am not here as Sir Park's son, but as Y/N's husband."

"...I see. Well, what can I do for you?"

"We are both gentlemen, Sir Wen," You hear your husband say. "Let us get right to the point. You harbour illicit feelings for my wife, do you not?"

"...I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Junhui's voice has turned cold. Nathaniel should be afraid, but he looks Junhui squarely in the eye.

"I told her this and I'll tell you too, Sir Wen," Your husband's voice is careless, as if he doesn't care what he's saying. "She is mine. And I have rules about the women in my life. They will not look at other men. Their life will change to suit mine. And if anyone tries to defy that, defy me, I will tear them down. You, my dear musician, are no exception."

The room goes silent for a moment. "Well, I am glad we straightened this out." You can practically feel Nathaniel smiling, smug in his arrogance. "Y/N will be heading to Sicily soon, and I must ready our travel plans. Goodness, what a world we live in!"

His footsteps scuff the ground as he gets up, then stop. "This was a nice meeting, but the next time we chat about this, I will not be as friendly." You hear his chair creak. "Well, as you were. Good evening."

"You do not deserve any part of Y/N." Junhui mutters.

"...I'm sorry?"

"I said, you do not deserve her." Junhui repeats, each word firmer than the last. "If you knew her at all, those vile, vulgar words should never have left you. Had you not wed her just for her talent and face value, you would have seen her for who she is -- a strong, talented, and truly selfless woman. She gave up her music, her lifeline, to marry a man she barely knows just for her family's sake. If you ever bothered to observe her beyond your conceited and overbearing ego, you would have found bliss with her by your side."

"...I knew coming to an agreement so quickly was suspicious." YOur husband laughs, slightly cruelly. "And you would know all that of my wife, because?"

"I do not know her as well as I'd like, but I know better than to let go of such a precious being." Junhui's words do not cease, each one hitting home hard. "The innate truth is, neither you nor I deserve her. I will not lie that she showed up at my estate the night you laid your filthy hands on her, and nothing has ever made me angrier. So I swear, from now on, not a single hand will land upon her, or be damned this nation and its money, I will make it my life's duty to ensure you never again see the light of day."

Nathaniel chuckles, as if Junhui's words are but a gust of wind, as insignificant as one raindrop in a thunderstorm. You cannot stay and hear any more of this. So you creep towards the nearest window, ajar to let air in. As you crawl out, careful not to hook the hem of your gown on the hinges, and flee for the back gate, you hear your husband croon. "There must be more than meets the eye, Mr Wen. Although, I hope you know where you stand. Y/N will never belong to you."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 24th

"Thank you for coming, Mother," You try to smile at her, as she sits across you.

"You have never invited me over before," She says brightly. "What did you seek me out for?"

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay..." She comments, putting her teacup down. "Go on."

"I wish to leave Nathaniel."

"What?" Your mother is beyond alarmed, sitting forward and furrowing her brows. "Daughter, you know--"

"He hits me," You blurt out, and her eyes widen. Perhaps not the most graceful or discreet way to expose your suffering, but to you, there was no nice way to say it, no matter how much it hurt.

"He-- Y/N--"

"And someone else came and saved me. In so many ways, even the ways I did not know I could be saved.”

"Wh-" Your mother looks truly befuddled, and in any other situation, you might have laughed at the astounded look on her face.

"Wen Junhui." You continue blabbering. "He has seen me for who I am, at my best and at my worst, and he... he has healed me. He told me the truth that no one bothered to say, and he taught me that... that my fate is my own. Mother... I do not think I can live by the words of others. I think... I think that would make me miserable beyond belief."

Your mother is silent for what seems like an eternity, and you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

She finally opens her mouth to speak, and your breath catches.

“Of all people,” She murmurs, before giving you a soft smile. “I never would have thought that Mr. Wen would be the one to catch your eye.”

You shake your head in fond exasperation. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

“No.” She disagrees. “It has its own wiles and ways, but everything… everything happens for a reason. We were foolish to try forcing your happiness, weren’t we?”

You shake your head again. “I know you want the best for me.”

“I do, and I am glad you trust that, Daughter,” Your mother says softly, and you look at her, the gentleness of it all making your eyes glass over. “And if the best for you can be found in Mr. Wen…”

She dabs at her eyes carefully to prevent the kohl from running, and shoots a smile at you, genuine and loving. “Who are we to disagree?”

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1874, September 27th

"You'll need more coats. Those dresses of yours are so overbearing." Nathaniel comments as your maids fold both of your clothes into trunks.

You grit your teeth but say nothing, as you pick out your jewellery.

"And this," He holds up another gown, one of your personal favourites, a sweet baby-blue confection with small gems sewed meticulously within. "Outrageous. Have it burned, my wife will not be seen in things as skimpy as th-"

"Shut up!" You can't recognise your shout. "Just keep your mouth shut for a moment, won't you?"

He advances upon your retort, eyes glittering. "What did you just say to me?"

"I will not go to Sicily with you." You say resolutely.

He starers at you for a moment, then bursts into laughter. "You? Turning Sicily down? How amusing."

"I'll never go anywhere with you." You snap, backing away. The maids hesitantly put down their work, then proceed to leave the room, leaving just the two of you.

"Don't be ridiculous, wife," Nathaniel says condescendingly. "Sicily would be good for us to start over. Too many nuisances here."

As he laughs and returns to selecting clothes, you scoff. "You're one to talk. You ruined my life, you took everything dear to me away."

He throws down the possessions, a loud shout bouncing off the walls. "Understand one thing. You are nothing, you understand? I could crush you and all that you have under my boot all in a day's work."

You push back, enraged. "Don't you project your emotions and problems on me. Junhui was right. You don't know any part of me. Not what I love, you're nothing that any sane person wants or needs. You're human vitriol."

"Junhui, Junhui, Junhui," Nathaniel sneers. "So you do know he's in love with you. Why else would you allow him to poison your mind? That pest--"

You punch him in the mouth.

You punch your husband, a rich and influential merchant's son, square in the mouth.

Now, you're not a strong woman, and in any fight, you'd be knocked out like a light. But given that Nathaniel did not expect any form of violence or pushback from you, when he was so close to taking you to Sicily permanently, he stumbles back in surprise and clutches his jaw.

Taking advantage of his confusion, you run.

You run and run and run, to the stables, upon a mare, and urge it out towards Junhui's estate.

So you do know he's in love with you.

This was the only time you wanted -- yearned -- to believe Nathaniel Park.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"You must think my home is a vacant shelter," Junhui comments as he lets you in.

He stiffens when you say nothing. "What is going-"

"Junhui." You lock eyes with him, firm and headstrong. "Are you in love with me?"

He stops moving entirely for five moments before chuckling. It sounds so artificial.

"No, that idea is repulsive."

"Junhui-"

"No."

"Junhui." You take his hands and plead. "Tell me the truth, and only the truth. Is it true, that you are in love with me?"

He tries swatting your hands away. "Please stop. Leave."

"I will the second you tell me that you are not in love with me. I will disappear from your sight for the rest of my life, I will leave for Sicily without looking back, and I will never return. Just answer me, just this once. Are you in love with me?"

His resistance snaps as he whirls to you.

"I've been crazy for you the moment I laid eyes on you!" He chokes out, eyes burning with emotion, hands flying to wipe furiously at them. "I couldn't fathom the thought that you hated me from the moment you saw me, goodness knows why, but I figured -- if that was the only way I'd see you for who you were, wild and free and beautiful, instead of the other ladies in court who put up facades to be around me -- I'd take it all. Whatever you gave me, I'd take and play along."

He swallows before he continues. "And yet it wasn't enough. Competing on and off the stage with you. I was in Rome when I received word of your union with that...that monster. I hated myself then. I regretted immensely that I had not asked for your hand before someone else did. I must have been complacent that you would always be around."

"Y-You...you never sought me out." You say softly, stunned at the revelation.

"It was a marriage between a renowned merchant's son and the world's best violinist, celebrated by all... I could not compare. Love would not cut it. Love would never cut it."

You could not help but cup his face, wiping the tears that leaked from his earnest eyes. "I truly believed you would find happiness with that man, treasure. I genuinely wished you well, even if it broke me." He whispers.

"And then you turned up at my gates, with bruises on you and a horrific story to tell," He continues, clenching your hands in his, "Yet I had to watch you, and let you return to that son of a bitch of your own will just so your family could live in peace!"

His body, now racked in sobs, crumples to the ground, bringing you with him as you cradle his head, tears of your own now dripping down your face. "Here you are now, one step away from moving to Sicily as you dreamed, asking me if I am in love with you? My beloved, is that really a question, or simply a confirmation?"

He looks up at you, eyes rimmed in red. "I cannot burden you with my emotions now. Not when you're achieving your dreams. Not when you and yours are suffering under the world's scrutiny. I love you so deeply that I know I cannot do that. If I cave into my emotions... you will be shackled to me, and I cannot have that on my account."

"No." You interrupt. His eyes raise to meet yours, as if in disbelief at what he was hearing.

"I plan to leave Nathaniel. All future plans are gone, and we will not be going to Sicily."

His eyes dilate in shock. The world goes silent, and it's just the two of you.

"I...I spoke to my mother. Way before today. About what you said. A lot of it was what you said." Your voice sounds foreign, so strange to your own ears. "I told her that I would settle the deal and anything we owe in any other way that would not require my happiness as a trade. I told her...I could not bear to let people who did not care if I lived or died dictate how I spend my days. I showed her the wounds he gave me. And I told her how you healed them."

He could not speak, could not move. The fact that you had decided to show your suffering to the one person you did it all for... he did not know whether to praise or cry at your bravery. That you, terrified yet adamant, had made a choice that would finally change the trajectory of your life.

You take a deep breath. Clasp his shaking hands in yours as you find your next sentence.

"You know this. The current divorce bill has always favoured men. In this age, no matter how big I am, no matter how much proof of how awful he is, society will only ever choose him over me. I have every intention to leave that monster, but it will be a tedious, arduous task, and I cannot promise anything out of it -- but what I can promise is that if you want me, you have me. Wholeheartedly, even if hell bestows its wrath upon us, my heart will always be yours. It..."

He waits with bated breath for your next words, his grip on your hand just as unwavering as your will.

"It must have been yours from the moment you pushed me to leave. You were the only one who saw me as anything more than a trophy wife, even with everything I threw your way. I only realised too late... that what I need isn't someone who would speak behind my back, or only support me from the sidelines."

His hands reached up to your face, trembling, cold, so full of emotion he felt like he would combust.

"I need someone like you to stand with me. I need you, Junhui."

It was all he ever wanted to hear. For the longest time, ever since he could remember. Just the thought that you might want him, competitor and all, shakes him to the core.

He grabs you and pulls you to him, hands gripping your waist. Tears form once more in his eyes as he shuts them and presses his mouth firmly to yours, and you can taste the salty tang of them on your tongue as you wrap your hands around his shoulders and tug him towards you. He smothers any remaining space between you -- not that there was much at all -- and wraps his arms wholly around you.

You both enjoy how you mold into each other so, so perfectly -- like a major scale, like a perfect chord, like the coda of your favourite orchestral symphony. One kiss against the next, the tune of your heart swelling into a brilliant crescendo.

You stay like that, lost in the throes of passion, heads tilting to accommodate each other, and when he finally pulls away, leaving you breathless as you meet his eyes, his expression changes into one of such deep love and joy, tears spring into your eyes again.

He draws you into a warm embrace, stroking the back of your head as you find solace in his arms. "Do not weep, treasure. I need you to stay with me, because after all these years of butting heads with each other, you are finally mine."

And as the darkness of the night descends upon the land, neither of you make any move to let go, because Junhui was right.

After all this time, of fighting and being at odds, you were where you really belonged.

With the man whose career you once swore to end, yet the only person who managed to play his way into your heartstrings.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

"And you must still leave, because?" Junhui is frowning, evident even with his head down, playing with your fingers. You look at him longingly.

"To finish what I have started, Junhui," You murmur, looking at him. "There is to be a court hearing, and only then will I know if I can leave him."

He only frowns further. "And you will be going alone?"

"My mother will be coming with me. I would need support."

His expression does not relax as you hoped, as he continues, "I presume I cannot go?"

"The court would be even less in my favour if you were to show up. Imagine the scandal it would cause!" You reply, chuckling as you fiddle with the silk material on his waistcoat, soft and fluffy against your rough fingers. "Why? Can't get enough of me already?"

"Shut up," He replies instantly, voice bitter. "If you had just married me before and not bothered with him, you could've avoided all of this."

"It was arranged, you idiot! And I wonder, who was the one who didn't ask for my hand and pined about it on his own?"

"I did not pine!" He defends immediately. "I could have you thrown out for such slander, you know."

"You keep telling yourself that, Junhui," You reply, smiling slightly. "How was I to know you wanted to marry me from the start?"

"You had your head up in your ass, trying to win a competition that didn't exist," He responds without missing a beat, grinning devilishly, and now you were ready to release a string of curses that would make your poor mother weep.

"Listen here, you little-"

He takes your raised fist and holds it easily in his own.

You scowl deeply. "What do you want from me now?"

"I want you to decide for yourself. Go and do what you have to for your own happiness. If you decide you do not want me-"

A slap to his chest leaves him stunned.

"Are you actually lacking in intelligence somewhere up there?" You hum. "You're much more an idiot than I thought."

"What?"

"I spilled all I had in my mind to you, you nincompoop." You mutter. "I want you. I will only want you from here on out. Don't be stupid."

"Do you mean it?"

"That you're stupid? Without a doubt."

"You know what I mean." He holds your gaze. That in itself has you gaping in mock hurt.

"Do you not trust my words in the slightest?" You ask incredulously. "My, what do you think of me?"

He raises his eyebrows. "After the past ten years? You want me to be honest?"

You slap his chest again indignantly and he laughs.

"Junhui," You say, softer than ever before, and he looks back at you, eyes shining. "I mean it all. Down to the last word. Please... believe me."

He'd never heard so much as a request from you, never mind a 'please'.

"I do. Gods... I do. More than anything." He cups your face affectionately, and you melt at the touch. He seems as though he's gearing himself up to say something, and after a few moments, he finally loosens his tongue.

"From now to the end, I will wait. I'll be right here. No matter the number of waltzes and music I must grace this ridiculous society with, you must promise, promise, you will come back for me." He leans into your hold, and the intimacy, the gentleness Nathaniel never once provided, makes you blink back tears.

"I will." You say. No more word play or snarky responses. Your promise hangs between the two of you, strong as the red string of fate shining between your interlinked fingers, bright as the days ahead.

With Junhui by your side.

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1875, April 2nd

Resounding applause booms through the concert hall. Junhui takes his final bow as the stage closes. Women were swooning, men applauding the prodigy violinist that finally graced the stage of Jahn's Hall. People waving could be seen wherever Junhui looked.

Show-off, you think to yourself. Yet, your legs betray you, standing up to carry you to the wings of the back-stage.

You handle your gown with ease, your feet carefully navigating through throngs of Junhui's well-wishers, the people manning the operations, all the way to the back where you saw clearly a large crowd forming.

Where the crowd was largest was where Junhui would be.

You pick at the bouquet in your hands in slight hesitation, until a man you recognise from many concert halls catches sight of you and promptly yells, "If it isn't Miss Y/N! Another wonderful musician in our midst! Freshly back from the courts eh?"

You shoot him a small smile and a nod, and he immediately starts elbowing people out of the way. "Out of the way, folks! She must be here for Mr Wen. The rumours are true, so move, fellas!"

Slowly, the crowd dissipates, fading to the sidelines, until Junhui notices the strange crowd movement. He looks up from his conversation with another man, and he freezes in his spot when he sees you.

Heart thumping so loud you can't hear anything else, you raise the bouquet (you searched for the perfect arrangement for almost a week, but you would carry that secret to the grave) and with a smirk on your face, you drawl, "Missed me?"

The crowd bursts into noise, full of clamouring and people shouting. Through it all, you pay them no attention, your focus only on the man in front of you, staring as though he's never seen you before.

Junhui stays stock-still for a few moments. You're starting to think he doesn't want you here.

"I know I did not write to tell you I was returning, but I can explai-"

The greatest violinist of the age strides over to you, captures your face in both his warm hands and kisses you.

You can feel him shaking as he presses himself tightly into your embrace, your foreheads almost touching.

"Seven months," He rasps out, pressing kisses on your mouth between each word. "Seven months and not a word from you. I imagined you'd run off with another man."

"Who else could have infiltrated my mind as you can?" You choke a laugh, reciprocating him with equal fervour. "Day and night, I ached to write to you, but I could not jeopardise my position in the court hearing."

"And what was the outcome?"

"Of what?"

"You know very well what!" He says, drawing away from you but keeping you locked still in his hug. "What of the case?"

You stay silent and his smile fades. "You are frightening me, treasure."

You laugh at that, unable to keep up the facade. "Ruled in my favour. We have signed the separation papers, and I am a free woman."

He shouts out something intelligible, and wraps you up in another bone-crushing hug which you happily return.

"I am glad I kept my promise," You murmur as he sways you around, lost in the joy of you back by his side. You hardly notice the hum of activity as someone ushers the crowd out of the room. "I hate to say this, but it may have been the best decision of my life."

"You say that now, treasure," He teases back before looking at you, puzzled. "What promise? As I recall, you did not write to me at all."

"That I would come back for you," You answer, without missing a beat. "That promise echoed in my head, every single day. When I stood my case, when I went to listen to an orchestra play the first day after learning I'd won. When I hastened my departure and my mother told me to be happy, all I thought of was coming home to you."

He pulls back and looks at you, eyes slightly glassier than they were before, and the brightness in his expression, the love in it, etches itself in your mind permanently.

"And you are home with me now."

"I am."

"You are not leaving me again, treasure. It is an order."

"You sound sappy. Stop that right this second."

"You started it first, darling. Your promise echoed in your head? Really?"

"You're insufferable. I hope you know that."

"Remind me when we marry. You love me anyway."

You sigh, half-helpless and half-fond, and reach up to rake your hands through his hair.

"I do. Gods... I do. More than anything."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

1946, November 11th

"Hang that over there, please. Right at the centrepiece of the fireplace."

"Here, madam?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Treasure, you look at this portrait too many times in a day."

"Be quiet. This was the only good decision you made in our lives."

"You say that now. What of marrying me? Was that not the best thing you did?"

"The worst decision of my life, I can assure you."

"You're a terrible liar."

"I hate you."

"Love you too, treasure."

"..."

"You're smiling."

"I am not!"

"The curve of your lips won't go down. You are not sneaky."

"Shut up. I told you we should go see the classical group before they leave tomorrow."

"Don't distract me. We can look at the picture a little longer. It isn't time to go yet."

"Ah...finally, something good coming out from your mouth."

"The same mouth that kisses y- ow! My face!"

"Not another word!"

"Fine! God, you horrible lady."

"Fine, you wretched man!"

Shaking his head and smiling, the man, much older now, but with the same charming smile and earnest eyes, reaches his arm out to wrap it around his wife, tongue still sharp from their youth, yet still the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. She lets him embrace her, even leaning back semi-reluctantly, to his great amusement.

"Look at that," The lady marvels. "Look how wonderful the artwork is, Junhui. Goodness, I still remember the whole day."

"The best day of my life, treasure," The man responds gently. "I'll never forget."

Snug in each other's arms, the couple looks on, at the memory of their younger selves. The time has come and gone, but the days ahead of them are still as bright, the memory of this portrait just as vivid as ever.

The portrait of a beautiful young woman and a tall, dashing young man, sitting together on their wedding day, arms interlinked and smiles forever etched on their faces. Two violins sit next to each of them, and a small plaque attached below the portrait reads:

"Commissioned: Wen Junhui and Y/N L/N, March 7th 1876."

───✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰──────✱

author's note:

SURPRISE FIC in the middle of “This Summer”!!

i play the violin, so i was veeerrry excited to write one about music!! especially a period romance?? yes pleaaaasee

thank you for reading! 🎻🤍 feedback is always welcome :”)

Y E S 👏👏👏

seventeen as their songs' choreographies

pls i binged their dance practices and then suddenly i was like "hey this wld make a good hc!!!!" so here we are. here's which svt song choreo (specifically just the dance movements) i think each member would be

masterlist

seungcheol

super. no, it's not just bc of the fits and stylings that he had during the comeback stages that he absolutely slayed, but the choreography itself feels weirdly like scoups: the power, the confidence and the martial arts-esque moves feel like him

jeonghan

fear. maybe a bit unexpected, but the choreo is almost dangerously beautiful and very jeonghan. it's the kind of beauty that's like watching someone's destructive downfall and being unable to look away

joshua

dream. he's just having so!!!! much!!!! fun!!!! during the choreography video but also. it's so fucking CUTE and makes me think of him like?? the swaying arms and the little bobbing up and down is adorable and He's adorable and oh lord i need to have a lie down bc it's just too cute

junhui

aju nice. the chaoticism of the choreo which looks all whirlwind-crazy before you realise that their cohesiveness is actually incredible is such a junhui thing actually. it's such a bright and messy and energetic choreo in the most polished way

hoshi

crush. the choreo has kinda gay, kinda sexy vibes and they make use of really clever positioning in triangles/ parallel lines to give it a really sleek, powerful feel. honestly it just feels like it has hoshi written all over it

wonwoo

thanks. so much of the choreo makes me think of waves crashing and falling—the canon movements, the arms, the rising and falling actions—and there's something so heart-wrenching and powerful about it.

woozi

hitorijanai. the slow gentleness, the delicacy, the arm movements that seem to connote something gentle and opening up to the world all make me think of him. woozi has always been like a fairy in my eyes, and this choreo embodies exactly that

minghao

don't wanna cry. the synchronisation and canon moves are off-the-charts levels of gorgeous. also the way they tell the story with mostly only their arm movements is mesmerising and beautiful and so elegant and yearning that it reminds me of minghao

mingyu

left & right. the choreography is just so fun to look at. like, you watch them dancing and you genuinely get an exhilarated feeling of utter joy bc the choreo is so fresh and fun and idk it just feels like a mingyu-esque dance to me

dokyeom

anyone. genuinely could Not take my eyes off this guy in particular whilst watching the choreo vid n it's bc he makes the moves look so clean, esp that part where they move the movement from the arms into the legs??? literally gorgeous.

seungkwan

mansae. the choreography is sharp and fresh and clean and sooo bright. you can positively feel the groove in the movements alone, and the way they change formation so seamlessly with such sharpness is such seungkwan vibes

vernon

clap. iconic dance practice moment aside, this rlly is unironically vernon cuz it's just such a funny and fun choreo. that part where they almost crawl across the floor has me giggling every time and the amount of body shaking is so funny to me

chan

_world. it's just- it's just a cute song with the cutest choreo ever. i don't know why it makes me think of chan oh lord but the little skippy steps that they do and the adorable hip popping is just soooo so dino coded to me

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @kikohao

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

07. producer park

🌼 warnings: alcohol, a secret chat group

🌼 word count: ~2.3k

"Ah, I don't like staying in hospitals," You mumble as you get out of the car that Seungkwan drove over in. You reach in again and pull out the overnight bag that Delia brought after she came back.

"Nicer to be home, huh," Delia smirks as she gets out after you, before skipping on ahead, where Seungkwan's already stopped the engine and is waiting with Wonwoo, who's been unusually quiet on the journey back.

She's far gone before you process that she said 'home'. She already regarded this village as home. Huh. Perhaps it was time you asked yourself the same question.

As you walk on, you see a large group of people huddled near a stall at the edge of the town market. They're unfamiliar, and some of them are carrying large black tripods and rectangular bags on them.

As the four of you walk closer, Seungkwan and Wonwoo's eyebrows slightly furrowing in confusion at the large crowd, a head of dark brown hair, and long, lanky limbs catch your attention. He's bent over a rack of traditional dried squid snacks, animatedly chattering and gesturing about it to the rest of the group surrounding him.

"Chanyeol?" You say out loud as you get within hearing range of the man. Wonwoo, Delia and Seungkwan's heads whip over to you.

Alerted at the call of his name, the man raises his head, and his eyes finally land on you after looking around. "Oh my god, Y/N?!"

"It really is you!"

He excuses himself from his group and hurries over to you. Delia mouths an incredulous "That Chanyeol?!" to you, but quickly plasters a smile onto her face as he comes over to greet you.

"Long time no see, Y/N!" he says, loud and boisterous as he always is, and you can't help but break out in a smile as you respond. "It's so crazy meeting you here. How've you been?"

"I'm doing good! And you?" Chanyeol grins, his handsome features lighting up.

"I'm great! Here on a filming session?" You smile.

"What do you mean great, you just got out of a car accident--" Wonwoo mutters under his breath and Seungkwan elbows him in the ribs. "Ow!" He protests.

Delia grabs Seungkwans's arm, Seungkwan grabs Wonwoo's, and the three of them hightail it out of the way, Wonwoo protesting slightly before you can say anything.

"Funny story how I got here, actually," Chanyeol enthuses, as he waves his film crew on to explore the market on their own. "I was supposed to go to the neighbouring town -- amazing farm plots, I heard! But I took a wrong turn, and--"

"Typical," You groan. "You never did go the right directions back in school."

He bursts out laughing, throwing his head back in his joy. "Gosh, you still remember that?"

Of course you do.

"But yeah, we ended up here! But it's a gorgeous town. Freshly-caught seafood, community spirit, the old traditions all present -- I was thinking this might be a blessing in disguise, it would be a great location for our next show. So we took the wrong turn as a chance for a site recce."

"Wow," You smile. "But this place really is pretty. You should check out the harbour, the lighthouse, and the dock--" You stop yourself.

What are you doing?

Chanyeol doesn't seem to notice your sudden halt, instead opting to smile big and assure you that he'll check the whole town out.

"Right," He suddenly says. "I'm actually glad that you'll be hanging around here, 'cause I'd really like to stick with someone more familiar."

You laugh. "I'm hardly the best person for a guide. I just came a few weeks ago. Not that long ago, to be honest."

He brushes aside your concern. "At least I have a friend here. By the way, do you happen to know a town chief, or a council? We were thinking of discussing with them about filming here. We can get the permits and stuff, but we do need his permission..."

You perk up slightly. "Yeah, I know him. His name is Chief Jeon Wonwoo. I can let him know that you want to see him?"

Chanyeol brightens. "Oh, the guy that was with you earlier? Great! I'll go find him myself, he's right over there." He points, and to your surprise and slight mortification, Wonwoo, Delia, and Seungkwan really are still in the market, far enough to not raise suspicion, but still near enough to see roughly what's going on. The three of them immediately avert eye contact once they spot you both looking in their direction.

You sigh in fond exasperation as Seungkwan starts blabbering excitedly about the dried goods you know for sure he's seen his whole life.

"Yep, that's him, the taller one," You say. "Come on, let's get you introduced."

They hit it off.

Chanyeol's infectious enthusiasm seems to rub off on Wonwoo, and he begins brainstorming with the producer on the materials they'd need for the show. Seungkwan, Delia and you hang behind, making conversation on your own.

"Who's he?" Seungkwan asks curiously, after Chanyeol peels away from the group to get back to his film crew, promising to discuss further with Wonwoo once he'd settled everyone into accommodations for the next few days, and it's just you four again.

"A friend from university," You begin, but Delia snorts with laughter. "You had the biggest crush on him."

You smack her on the arm. "I did not!"

Wonwoo looks down at you, smirking. "Really? Miss Doctor has a crush?"

You flush. "...Used to."

"Oh my god, it was a whole melodrama!" Delia squeals. "Can I tell them? Can I?"

You sigh dramatically at her excitement, but smile and wave at her to go on. "Go ahead. It's all water under the bridge."

And so Delia regales her tale (largely exaggerated, mind you) about your first-ever boyfriend in university, who had later revealed himself to be a Class-A jerk, busying himself with different girls at parties while you studied away for your degree.

Chanyeol, despite being in the same group of friends, had never attended the parties, instead opting to spend his time assisting on film sets and production companies for experience. When he found out about his friend's tendencies, and that you broke up with him, he took it upon himself to become your friend, to make you a little happier.

And soon, that companionship throughout university had developed into a teeny-tiny crush. A really small one. Delia made you sound like some lovesick teenager.

Life had other plans, moving you to Seoul to your very first clinic. You both rarely kept in touch, but you saw him on variety shows, on the credit rolls of reality programmes, and in online articles. He'd grown to become a charismatic and popular TV producer.

You roll your eyes when Delia does a highly inaccurate imitation of your expression while talking with the producer. ("I didn't look like that!" "Did too!")

Seungkwan and Wonwoo seem highly invested, which was fair, you supposed, given that they knew close to nothing about you. Seungkwan gasped like he was watching the climax of a drama.

"And your unrequited love is back in town," He teases, and you barely launch a poorly aimed punch at his arm before he's ducking away, screeching with laughter.

Wonwoo, however, doesn't seem as amused. His face twists at some point in your story, whether out of confusion or irritation... you can't tell.

Wonwoo decides to discuss the possibility of the filming project with the villagers, citing that it would be good for business, and to make the place livelier. It comes as no surprise that it's a unanimous yes, given his position as an unofficial chief and all-around genius.

Giving Chanyeol the good news was worth it to see his reaction -- his huge smile, his excited demeanour as he tells his crew. They're all equally excited, huddling to plan out every detail of the show.

As thanks, Chanyeol decides to treat the crew to drinks and urges you and Wonwoo to come. "You guys made it happen, anyway," He reasons, and Wonwoo seems happy to go. It also happens that you can't resist the pull of alcohol.

Except you get drunk. Really, really, shitfaced, to the point that you know you'll black out once you try to stand.

"Easy there, tiger," Wonwoo groans as he pulls you out of your seat.

"Should I bring her home...?" You hear Chanyeol offer, but Wonwoo's already declining as he adjusts you.

"You literally told us just now that you're bad with directions," He huffs in exertion, as you try and fail to make your spaghetti limbs work. "If I let you bring her alone, she won't get home until tomorrow morning."

"Oh, I'm not that bad..." Chanyeol begins to protest, then sighs. "Yeah, I am that bad. Just let me know when she gets home. You have my number, right?"

And all you remember after that is a blur of him carrying you home, the sensation of a blanket being thrown over you, the dampness of a wet towel on your face, and then the world goes dark.

The next morning is so damn painful.

Your head is spinning and throbbing, and you just feel like jelly. When you stumble into the kitchen for water and painkillers, there's a note on the dining table.

Mrs Woo sells really good hangover soup. When you wake up, let me know so we can go eat.

-J.WW

And call him you do, because hot broth sounds really good right about now.

Twenty minutes later, you see him tapping his foot impatiently outside the restaurant.

"Oh, you take forever to get ready," He leans in and sniffs delicately, before nodding. "At least you don't stink."

"Stink?"

"Do you know how much you drank last night?" He asks incredulously. "You downed so much of the makgeolli, over two bottles of soju mixed with beer, and--"

"Okay, I get it. You're making my head hurt." You mutter, embarrassment creeping up your face. "Can we go eat now?"

He chuckles, and swings the door open. "After you, Miss Doctor."

The steam kisses your face. It's better than anything else in the world right now.

Wonwoo looks on in amusement as you scoop rice and broth and tuck in, sighing in enjoyment. "Good?"

"Yeah." You mumble, your mouth full. "People should come here every day."

"Mhm," He hums in agreement as he picks his spoon up. "Don't talk with your mouth full. Are you heading to the clinic after this?"

"Yeah," You reply after swallowing. "Grandma has her appointment, and I have a few new people coming in."

"You sure you don't wanna take the day off?" He questions. "No offense, but you look awful right now."

"Thanks," You roll your eyes. "Can't. Grandma has an appointment today for her brace, and I've got a few new patients."

"Right. Take it easy, then. Delia can help out, right?"

"Delia took the day off. Said Seungkwan was bringing her out or something."

Wonwoo chokes on his soup.

"Seungkwan found the guts to bring a woman out?" Wonwoo is still in disbelief.

You sigh. "Delia might have nagged him a little. She's firm with what she sets her eyes on."

"No wonder. Seungkwan would never have asked her out otherwise."

As you near the clinic, you see a crowd of villagers gathering near your entrance.

"Did someone make a mess or something?" You wonder as you speed up, Wonwoo matching your pace. Once one villager spots you, the rest start chattering at breakneck speed.

"Y/N! How are you doing?"

"Oh, we heard about the accident--"

"Horrible, the weather must have been--"

"You must've felt so terrible at the hospital, dear," Grandma Lee walks towards you and grips your hands. "Here, this is a traditional root herb supplement. It's bitter, but you must eat it all. Helps with energy and recovery."

You smile a little and accept the small paper bag. "Thanks, Grandma."

She turns to Wonwoo and proceeds to slap his arm. "Ow! Grandma, why--"

"I heard you brought her to the hospital. Why didn't you make her stay home and rest?"

You break out into embarrassed laughter. "I insisted, Grandma. Life has to go on. And... he caught a cold because of me, so..."

"Yeah, where's my supplement, Grandma?" Wonwoo asks with a pout, not unlike a child.

"I only have one, you brat," Grandma Lee hisses, swatting his hand. "You're a big boy. Don't tell me you can't handle a cold." You try and fail to hide your laugh and Wonwoo mock-scowls at you.

One by one, the villagers offer you what they can, from fruits to freshly-made green onion kimchi, telling you to take care and call upon them if anything happens. The grandmas thank you for getting Grandma Lee's brace, and you don't even have the chance to ask how they knew.

But for once, amongst the endless chatter and speculating about the weather during the accident, you finally understand the appeal of staying in a village, surrounded by people you know care for you.

"You didn't tell me Wonwoo brought you home after you got drunk!" Delia screeches once she comes into the house.

You look up from your rice. "What?"

"It's literally all over the-- oh, right."

"All over the what?" You get to your feet. Delia, who's in the middle of pulling something up on her phone, flushes and hides it, but you've already seen part of the screen.

"A chat group-- what is that?"

"I don't know! Swear, I just got added in this morning and Miss Hwang said Wonwoo carried you home and that it looked really cute-"

"What? Hey! Give me that!"

"No!"

Delia breaks into a rendition of the "Wonwoo and Y/N sitting in a tree" joke, and you're about to keel over in embarrassment.

And just then, your phone pings with a text from Wonwoo.

"Did you see the secret chat group?"

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.07: producer park

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou @mingycr

writer's note: a short update for noww~~

ramadan mubarak to all those who celebrate!! ❤️❤️

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

04. 53,000 won

🌼 warnings: mention of a funeral (but no one dies, it's just a description), awkward socialisation

🌼 word count: ~3k

"Ugh!!" Your head is in your hands, sitting in the middle of your newly-furnished apartment, mulling over the incident. A part of you feels bad for saying all that out, but how were you to know the mic was on?

A knock on your door breaks you out of your struggle. You sigh and pull yourself up. When you open the door, you're surprised to see Wonwoo outside. His mouth is set in a mocking smile, all the previous friendliness and teasing tone gone.

He cuts in before you can ask what he's doing here. "You really think you're better than everyone, don't you?"

"What?" You ask in shock.

"You must have had a smooth life, right? I told you before, Miss L/N. This isn't the city." He continues coldly, not a usual shred of humour in that sentence to be seen. "We live differently from you bigshots in the city, that's true. We make honest livings, and everyone has had their fair share of struggles. And what did you say -- 'too simple it's aggravating'? I'm not sure you know about anything any one of us has gone through. I humoured you at first because I thought you were just awkward with us, but I guess I shouldn't have." He gives a mirthless laugh.

You snap, "If this is about earlier, just stop. I don't need you to rub it in."

He raises his eyebrows. "You went around calling us all simpletons in essence, but you get upset the moment I call you out for it?" You shoot a glare at him, but he continues, unfazed.

"Listen here, Doctor. Life isn't so fair on everyone. You may have had it easy, but a lot of people spend their lives on unpaved roads, and some run at full speed only to reach the edge of a cliff. You have no right to undermine that, got it?"

He stalks off without looking back.

You slam the door shut and return to the middle of the room, fuming. Not even three minutes later your pity party is interrupted by yet another knock on the door.

Fed up, you storm to the door and pull it open, ready to vent on the man...

"Delia??" You ask, and she breaks into a smile. "Surprise!"

"What are you doing here?!" You burst into tears and crush her in a hug. Her expression turns into one of concern. "Wha- are you okay??"

"I messed up!" You sob into her shoulder as she hurriedly comforts you and pats you on the back. "When I was telling you about the town, I was in the broadcast room, and it played out for everyone to hear."

"Oh." Delia pauses the patting for a second before pulling away from the hug. "Yeah, you really did screw up."

"Delia!" You wail. "What now? I can't face them anymore. I'll have to move out, but I'll be unemployed. I-"

"Okay, calm down, shh, shh," Delia says, rubbing your back to soothe you. "It's okay. Just apologise -- sincerely -- and make sure you don't do it again." After a pause, she asks, "Is that why I saw Chief Jeon walking down the path earlier?"

"You saw him?" You ask, stricken. "Did he say anything?"

"No, he just smiled and said hello," Delia replies. "He didn't seem any different."

"Crap," You groan, leaning against the couch.

"Yup, crap indeed," Delia says bracingly. "Look, really, try to have fun here, okay? I know this wasn't your first choice, but a lot can happen in three months. I think you need to give them a chance before you say anything. I mean, if someone just assumed shit about you, you'd be mad too, right?"

You shrug. Delia rolls her eyes. "Go take a walk or something to clear your head. You might go do something rash if I keep on yapping, so go on."

You throw on a cardigan over yourself and make your way out the door with Delia's encouragement. You finally walk to the harbour, rather chilly at this time of night, and to your dismay, you spot Chief Jeon, sitting with Seungkwan and Joshua along the steep step at the top.

Oh. It was all three of them.

You brace yourself to walk right past them but sigh, Delia's words replaying over and over in your head. But they probably hated you now, you reasoned. So if you walked past them, they might not even bat an eyelash.

As you approach, Joshua looks up and raises his eyebrows. "Why're you here?"

"Walk," You reply hesitantly, trying to avoid eye contact. Seeing them again, in person, like this -- amplifies the embarrassment you feel. You can feel your ears turning red.

Chief Jeon huffs. "Sit down. You're not at a court sentencing or something."

Seungkwan finally looks up at you and motions with his head slightly, and that is your cue to sit, a small distance away from the three men.

"That," Chief Jeon says, pointing at the large, red lighthouse in the distance, glowing with bright lights against the night sky, "is the lighthouse. Fishermen use it lots when they can't get back before nightfall. It helps them navigate, and make sure they don't hit rocks and capsize."

You look at him curiously. "What?"

"Miss Hwang -- you've met her, the cafe owner-- can be a bit of a chatterbox, but she's really friendly. She's noisy, but she has a good heart, and she makes good company on lazy days." He continues, as if he hasn't heard you.

"Hey," Joshua nudges him, amusement on his face. "Tell her about Grandma Lee."

"Grandma Lee is everyone's family," Chief Jeon adds, a fond expression on his face as he looks out to sea. "She's lived here all her life, so she's watched practically everyone grow up, and she's seen lots of them come and go. She... she raised all three of us when we were kids, actually."

"She's the best person ever, and she's a good cook." Seungkwan tells you, the first sentence he's said to you since the fiasco.

Your confusion doesn't ebb. "What on earth are you three talking about?"

Chief Jeon rolls his eyes. But it's Joshua who speaks up first.

"We were getting to that," He says. "We're angry, yeah, that you jumped to the conclusions of us being simple that it was annoying. And Wonwoo was right that everyone's lives are different and you really shouldn't have said that." You're ready to retort, but Chief Jeon cuts in.

"You must be angry about what I said earlier."

"You know meddling can be dangerous, right?" You return. "You probably haven't caught up to the world yet."

"Probably," Chief Jeon shrugs. "But I'd appreciate it if you met them halfway."

You huff.

"I know this wasn't in your plans," Chief Jeon continues.

"...But?"

"This may sound old-fashioned, but this town hasn't had too many city people come in to stay," Seungkwan adds, tossing a pebble in the air and catching it. "So we're very tight-knit and our behaviour can be different from city people."

"Sounds exhausting," You mutter.

"Yet you chose to open a clinic here. Don't we all need some time to adjust?" Chief Jeon asks you. When you don't reply, he says, slightly sighing. "We were talking about it, and we figured all people make mistakes. Strictly speaking, it's not like you knew the mic in that room was on."

"We badmouth everyone at some point anyway, right? And everyone is probably talking shit about you right now," Seungkwan shrugs. "So you're all even. It's time for you to start over."

"And we want to tell you about life here," Joshua says, not unkindly. "So we can get to know each other a bit more, and we won't just be awkward up until you leave."

You stay silent, your irritation fading slightly. Perhaps these three weren't that bad.

Seungkwan launches into a quick briefing of the villagers. You find out that Mrs Woo, your landlord, has a seven-year-old son, who's top of his class and a quiet but obedient boy. That a young couple is running a small convenience store near the main path, and they're expecting a second baby soon. Wonwoo and Joshua stay silent, mostly, only chiming in very occasionally.

You don't say much, simply nodding at the right places, until Seungkwan snaps his fingers. "Ah, right! Reminds me, have you given out rice cakes?"

You stare at him in utter confusion, only for all three men to stare back at you, baffled. "You haven't? Seriously?" Wonwoo asks incredulously.

"No wonder," Joshua muses, before explaining. "You ever heard of the custom of handing out rice cakes when a business opens or when you move in?"

You nod slowly. "I thought that was a past tradition."

"Some of us see it as a form of courtesy," Joshua replies. "We'll help you make them, so pass them out. Maybe they'll take it as an olive branch."

You nod hesitantly. "Okay. I see."

Wonwoo shakes his head in mock amusement. "All those brains to be a doctor, and you really forgot rice cakes?"

You shoot him a wilting look, and he cracks a smile. "Don't start on your spiel about city life again."

"I wasn't going to," You say obstinately, but you know damn well you were on the verge of it.

To little surprise on your end, no one really changes their impression of you even after the rice cakes three days after you move in.

Some accept it with barely-there enthusiasm, while some don't even bother to spare you a second glance. It was expected, you muse, as you exit your twelfth household of the day.

"Miss Doctor!" A voice you know all too well calls out to you, and you look up wearily.

"What?"

"You handing out rice cakes?" He asks, outstretching his hands to take the few tins you have in your hands.

"Yeah. You guys said to."

He huffs. "Show some backbone about it, would you? You're promoting your clinic, not a funeral."

You cross your arms. "You try getting brushed off by so many people and see if you can still keep that grin on your face."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't be a baby. I bet you just went in, said "I hope you come to the clinic!" without apologising, and left."

You stay rooted to the ground. "So?"

He looks at you, shock on his face. "Did you really think that's enough? Of course no one would be convinced! An apology would be more than welcome."

You shrug, already worn out. "Whatever."

"Don't get grumpy on me," He says bracingly. "That's pathetic. Where's your friend, by the way?"

"Back in Seoul." You shrug.

He rolls his eyes. "Alright. Come with me this evening."

"What?"

"You're pretty stubborn. I said, meet me this evening. We're going somewhere."

"Wher-"

He stalks off, his hand stuck up in a wave.

"Idiot," You mutter.

You meet him at the junction near the small convenience store at the junction at six sharp.

"Oh, you're here early," He remarks as he approaches you. "Come on. We're going to the village meeting."

"What?" You recoil instantly, and he clicks his tongue. "Don't be a baby, honestly. Come on."

He leads you, with lots of complaining, back to the same place with the broadcast room. This time, you hear the buzz of people's voices, some laughter, lively conversation from inside.

Your hesitation is obvious as Wonwoo ushers you, and he sighs. "I'm giving you a chance to go in and try making things right. They need you as a doctor like you need them as companions, you know?"

You try to glare at him, but with your unwillingness and nerves combined, it's much milder than usual. He's clearly unbothered as he cocks his head towards the room. "I'll catch up with you. Go on."

"You're not coming?" The words shoot out, more alarmed than you intended.

"Time's a-ticking. I'm not the one who should apologise, Miss Doctor."

You huff, turn your back to him, and steel yourself. "Fine." Your heels crunch into the gravel as you walk towards the room.

He watches you as you march away.

You open the door warily, and all eyes turn to you. Disgruntled mutters break out as you step in awkwardly, but Seungkwan and Joshua, who are already sitting cross-legged near the back, smile slightly and wave you over to sit with them. Amongst the not-so-discreet chatter of the grandmothers who eye you disapprovingly, you make your way through and sit next to them in relief.

The conversation is muted until Ms Hwang asks (although it sounds more like a confrontation to you), "Why are you here, Doctor?"

"Um..."

Seungkwan clicks his tongue before he cuts in, clearly sensing your discomfort with all the villagers staring at you, not kindly in the slightest. "She's living here with us in the town now! Of course, she should be here."

Joshua murmurs assent, hand coming up to pat your shoulder in comfort. You try to smile awkwardly, and the villagers go back to mumbling under their breaths. That is until the door opens and Wonwoo comes in. He's carrying a box of fruits, you observe, and the villagers make way for him on autopilot. He sets the large box down, makes eye contact with you, and breaks out into a grin.

"Ah, Miss Doctor! I see why you needed my help carrying this in." He makes a show of stretching his back. "This is rather heavy, huh?"

"Wha-" You start to ask, but Seungkwan jabs you in the ribs. He's smiling when you look at him, and you finally figure out the act.

The murmurs continue, but more so in surprise, and as Wonwoo looks around in mock confusion, he deliberately chuckles out. "Ah, Miss Doctor heard about the village meeting today. She went to get fruits for everyone, but it was too heavy. She didn't even want my help until I insisted!"

The three grandmas turn to look at you, but the air of disapproval is replaced by something more questioning. The change is rather welcomed, though, the feeling of being scrutinised slowly fading. You manage to laugh out awkwardly.

The meeting goes without a hitch. The villagers help themselves to the peaches and apples Wonwoo — “you” brought— as your landlord addresses the issues of village cleaning and trash bags. Joshua even throws in a few deliberate praises on your choice of fruits. As the sky outside darkens, your landlord finally wraps up, and she adds, "Let's all thank Y/N for bringing fruits today, okay?"

A few mumbles of thanks are heard, but that alone sends endless relief through you.

Everyone files out after a while, goodnight's and see you's exchanged. You hang behind the rest, walking with Wonwoo. Seungkwan and Joshua go on ahead, saying they want to have an early night.

He stops you at the junction and holds out his palm.

"What?" You ask.

"53,000."

"Huh?"

"53,000 won."

"Wha-"

"For the fruits. I didn't want to say this to you earlier."

You huff and reach into your bag, but he stops you. "Bank transfers are fine. I'm not going on another wild goose chase with you for money."

"God, do you ever get tired?"

He chuckles at your annoyed tone before speaking again, slightly warmer and less sarcastic. "Good job today. I think the grandmas are warming up to you."

Before you can respond, he's striding back down the path, waving goodbye to you.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.04: 53,000 won

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼 taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou

writer's note: wonwoo is our saviour 😋

popping in to say that i've started prep for the next fic after 'this summer' ! it's a mingyu x reader centric smau and i'm suuper excited for it

but it's gonna take a while to come out cos i'm still tryna figure out the whole mechanics of the app i'm using lol

but i've gotten the profiles ready and i'm so waiting for the day i can announce it's ready to post hahahahaha