Myg Fic Rec List By Btsis7okay - Tumblr Posts

Missing Pieces Masterlist

Mafia!Yoongi  x Female Reader

Genre: Mafia AU, Enemies To Lovers, Strangers To Lovers, Unexpected/Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Description: Hooking up with Yoongi was a mistake. A mistake you’ve been making for the past 8 months. You knew he was dangerous; your friends had warned you before. Dealing with him was a bad decision. You knew that one day, things would get messy. That day came when you found out that you were pregnant. You didn’t expect things to go well, but you also didn’t expect things to spiral out of control either. When telling him about the pregnancy doesn’t exactly go as planned, you’re forced into a world you know little about. It’s there where you find out just how dangerous Min Yoongi really is.

Warnings (Still Updating): Mature Content, Crime, Violence, Unexpected/Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Heavy Angst, Torture, Cursing, Lots of Blood, Death, Lots of Trust Issues….

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𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕒 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕟 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖

Wolf Hybrid Yoongi x Reader Insert

Rated Explicit (No Minors):

- for content that is sexual in nature along with dark themes such as predator hunting prey.

-Consent is given.

-Word Count: 1,518

-Genre: fiction/dark fantasy

- @mochilatae @bonvoyagenoona

The sea kindles its own symphony--a cacophony of sound mixed with the saltiness of brisk air. The icy, black water tickles your toes as you stand at the shoreline, hands tucked deep in torn jeans. He would never find you here. Not near this abandoned cliff-side castle where warriors once roamed. You can almost hear the echoes of battle cries from ages past as your eyes close to the sinking sun that reflects off the water's edge. The earth sinks at your feet as a wave pulls inland, covering the edges of your jeans with clumps of dark sand and minerals.

Your scent should be masked here--even the perfume you are wearing can barely be registered over wet Gaia's natural scent. That is your hope at least, and for a moment, you let anxiety wash away with the receding waves. The wind picks up as your heart flutters--a soul-scratching beat that bruises your rib cage as your eyes dart down the coastline of this abandoned island. Violet-colored eyes peer through the cover of impending darkness. He is close, you can definitely feel it. That didn't take him long at all.

You race up cobblestone paths, in the direction of the abandoned castle. All in hopes of finding a more secure hiding spot from your hunter. A game of wolf and fawn was afoot and you refuse to be a loser this round. Not with all that he had promised if you were successful in keeping the wolf at bay. You duck under a crumbling archway and into the main hall of the castle. Your eyes deceived you from the shoreline. You didn't realize that the castle is in such poor condition. Torn red velvet curtains barely covered two-story windows. The stone wall behind what would have been the throne is practically destroyed. Wooden tables that withstood the sands of time are flipped on their sides. On top of the dier need to find a hiding place, it begins to rain and there are holes in the ceiling.

Just my luck, you think as you crawl on all fours into a cabinet that you find in the servants' quarters just of the main hall. It's a tight fit and you are certain that mildew is eating away at the fragile wood based on the smell alone. You don't have time to dwell when you hear the piercing scratch of claws along stone walls around the entrance of the castle. You cup a hand over your mouth and try desperately to slow your breathing and your heart rate down. Your bottom lip is drawn between teeth as you begin to worry that maybe hiding is a pointless venture with how good Yoongi is at seeking out his prey.

"Come out, come out. Wherever you are..." His voice rumbles in the muted silence. You can hear a storm pick up outside this cage of stone walls. Hollow tapping draws closer and you almost faint from holding your breath for too long. You remove your hand and suck in a deep breath. That's all it takes for your hunter to find you.

"Little kitten...you are the worst at finding spots to hide." A growl shakes the cabinet door and you try to make yourself as small as possible--tucking your legs closer to your body. You can feel the caked-on, wet sand crunch against the bottom of your jeans.

"Are you going to let me in, or do I have to drag you out. The game is over and you have lost. Come receive your punishment, sweet little lamb." Yoongi practically barks as a sharpened nail sinks into the soggy wood. Your fight or flight responses begin to kick in as you try to think of a number of ways to slip past Yoongi and attempt to find another hiding spot.

The only plausible thing you can think of is to throw open the door and force all your weight against him until he falls over. You can make a mad dash for the staircase after that. Putting your plan into action, you shove your weight against the door--only it doesn't budge. Not even an inch. Yoongi digs his nail further into the wood, fracturing the integrity of the door. You try once more to shove all of your weight against the door and it actually bursts free of the hinges that barely held it together. You fall forward onto your side--the door having splintered once it came off the hinges. Your skin flushes with warmth as heavy breath fans against your face.

"There's my pretty girl. All this running has worked up an appetite..." Yoongi laps at the canine protruding over his bottom lip. "Won't you let me have a taste, little lamb?"

A wave crashes against the shoreline where you once stood. Your eyes lock in the growing darkness of this hallway just off the main hall. His eyes glow a pretty lavender in the rising moonlight through a broken window. A sharp nail traces down the column of your throat and down your button-up blouse to unhook each button. He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response. He knows the rules. You've told him a thousand times before.

"No." You snap, rolling onto your stomach and pushing off the floor to sit up. You both are knee to knee as his hand slides around to grip the back of your neck.

"Tell me what you want then, my sweet." His husky vibrato has a way of pulling you in--not unlike a siren's call out to sea. "Just say the word and you can have it."

Your mother always told you to never play with wolves. They're tricksters by nature and lone creatures. Yoongi is a rare gem among many gems that look the same. His quiet, calculating demeanor is what drew you in. Your body is like jelly in his grasp and you try not to shiver when the sharp end of his nail tickles the base of your skull. It has a spiral effect that sends waves of pleasure all the way to your toes. You try to brace a hand on his shoulder, to keep yourself grounded, but he catches your wrist mid-flight.

"Use your words, little lamb." He toys with the underside of your wrist, thumb pressing into your pulse point. Beads of arousal pool through your skin's pores and his nostrils flare. His very presence has always been a source of excitement. Especially when he gets too close.

"Give me your knot this time, Yoongi." It came out as more of a demand than you intended. The desired effect was a wolf whistle of a laugh and Yoongi yanking you forward off of your knees. This is all the confirmation he needed to follow through with the ending of your mating ritual.

The harsh tearing of fabric reverberated off the walls as he held you up and pressed your back against the damp stone. The rain rushed harder, threatening to cave in the ceiling at any given moment. You were lost to the thought when nimble fingers cupped your sex so swiftly, you barely had time to catch your breath. He snarled against your earlobe, catching the delicate flesh between his teeth as fingers dive between your folds to collect his reward. Your scent is intoxicating--a fragrant mixture of lilies and red wine--he couldn't get enough of it. You'd never seen Yoongi work so fast to get his pants undone with one hand still buried in your sex.

When his cock sprung free against your groin, it was all you could do not to cry out from the need bubbling over the vat of other emotions held within you. So thick and long, you nearly lost it the first time you ever saw his cock--purely accidental. He nuzzles against your throat as his cock head is aimed for your entrance. Inch by painful inch, he eases into you, knowing full well that humans are not quite accommodating for his kind. He too flushes a glorious crimson when you sob his name against his ear.

"Will you take my bite as well then?" Yoongi asks, tongue flicking out against the life-line throbbing just under the surface of your skin.

"Y-Yes." You stammer as he pumps his cock slowly, deeply against your walls. You can hardly clench from how stretched you feel.

In an instant, Yoongi forces his cock further in, brushing against the entrance to your womb. His teeth graze the skin along your neck until he finds a spot safe enough to claim you. When his teeth pierce through, your vision whites out and his knot expands. He can't thrust harder even if he tried, allowing the pleasure to roll off him like the waves outside against the cliffs. For a moment, you feel an inner connection--a link that almost grants you visual access to his mind.

"Yoongi!" You swear you shout as your head falls limp against the stone wall. You've waited a long time for this hunter to stake its claim.

Maybe the other wolves will keep their distance...this time...

Summer Sweetheart | myg

Working at a country club for the summer definitely has its perks. The best one being getting to see Min Yoongi every day. After spending the summer pining and lusting after him in silence, you’re shocked when he asks you to join him for a drink after your shift one night. You know it’s never gonna happen, but that doesn’t stop you from saying yes to him and to a night you won’t soon forget.

🥃 Pairing: countryclubmember!yoongi x countryclubemployee!reader

🥃 Word Count: 6.5k

🥃 Rating: 18+

🥃 Genre: Smut, mostly pwp, some fluff

🥃 Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, Yoongi is rich and golfs and is also recently divorced, reader thirsts for Yoongi hard, brief mention of Yoongi’s ex and divorce, consumption of alcohol but neither of them are drunk, ✨a summer’s worth of sexual tension and pining✨, making out, dirty talk, praise, groping, grinding, marking/biting/scratching, dom!Yoongi, sub!reader but also bratty!reader at times, clothes get destroyed in the crossfire rip 😔, Yoongi flexes that he’s rich we love to see it 🤑, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, an unfortunate lamp incident 😬, fingering, protected sex, rough sex, he takes care of her after and it’s really soft 🥺, pink haired dilf Yoongi pain throughout 🥲

A/N: Surprise! I’m back finally with a Yoongi fic that was inspired by that Billboard shoot (fuck the interview though that was some bullshit 😤) Anyway this idea came to me and then I literally wrote it in like 3 days lmao hopefully this means I can get back into writing going forward and that I’m finally getting out of my creative rut 🤞🏻 I had a lot of fun writing this one and also experienced a lot of pain over this Yoongi, so I hope you enjoy if you decide to read 🥰 Thanks as always for supporting me and giving my fics a chance and also for being patient with me while I’ve been trying to get my shit together it really does mean the world 🥺💕

Masterlist

You had always been one of those people who wouldn’t hesitate to answer “golf” when asked what you thought the most boring sport was. The activity had always just appeared so bland to you. Hadn’t interested you in the slightest. That was until this summer. Until Min Yoongi had started to become a frequent visitor, both to the golf course and to the country club that you worked at right next door.

It was your third summer at the club, and you were more than used to the view of the expansive golf course that the huge wall lined with windows provided you. What you weren’t used to was the visual treat of Yoongi. All summer long your eyes had been glued to the sight of him, both on and off the course.

To the way his muscular arms flexed and strained against the fabric of his little polo shirts any time he pulled the club back for a shot, and his crisp button ups that he sported when he came in for a drink in the evenings that hugged his torso so deliciously. You truly wanted to pay your thanks to whoever had invented those tight little golf shorts because they had given you the opportunity to ogle Yoongi’s perfect ass on the daily. 

Not to mention that the cocky smirk he would get anytime he nailed a shot was pretty much seared into your brain at this point. The way he tongued the inside of his cheek when he was feeling confident had almost made you trip over your own feet on more than one occasion.

The real killer, though, was his smile. A rarity that made his gums peek out in the most endearing way and made his face light up like sunshine. That smile was dangerous. Because every time you had managed to catch it, you had been faced with the reality that Min Yoongi wasn’t just a man you could lust after, but a man you could fall for. Being attracted to him was one thing, but catching feelings was another thing entirely. 

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diamonds are a girls best friend | myg | part 1

》 pairing: best friends dad yoongi x f!reader

》 genre: smut, fluff, angst, three-shot, hidden relationship

》 word count: 7.4k

》 rating: 21+ for explicit smut

》 summary: you know it’s wrong. so wrong. there’s a saying that goes around - “if you can’t tell your best friend about it, then you probably shouldn’t be doing it” but when what you shouldn’t be doing is your best friend’s ridiculously hot and wealthy dad, just how do you say no to that.

》 warnings: forbidden romance, sneaking around? , dom!yoongi, sub!reader, age gap, ugh our lil couple is stupidly in lurv, lots of kissing, lots of hiding, love bites, sucking and biting, our yoongi gets off on being caught sO - exhibitionist yoongi in the form of changing room sex, fingering in a cafe bathroom, unprotected sex, shower sex, overstimulation.

》 a/n: biggest thanks to @kithtaehyung for making this lovely banner , its absolutely stunning. also to @sugasbabiie​ & @knjsnoona​ for being a wonderful betas, @ressjeon for being a supportibe hoe & @kimtaehyunq​ for being my whole rock n allowing me to stress over this as well as betaing too - i love u ♡

》 listen to - higher

Yoongi kisses the back of your shoulders as his fingers grace lightly over your damp skin; the back of his calloused hands caressing up and down your arm softly before turning you around and pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss full of lust and want. 

His large hands skim over your soft skin and grip your hips, squeezing tightly, almost as if to tell you that he is still here with you. You wrap your arms around his neck and allow him to hoist you up, pressing your back against the cold tiles behind you as your legs wrap around his hips and lock your ankles around his slender waist, encouraging him to make his next move. 

“You’re such a tease, pretty girl. Leaving me waiting in a changing room for, what, fifteen minutes?” He moans against your mouth, tugging on your bottom lip and suckling the skin gently before pulling and letting it go. “You should know by now I’m not a patient man.” 

Breaking the kiss, Yoongi starts to trace warm, open mouthed kisses down your neck towards the column of your throat. As he finds your sweet spot in between the junction between your neck and shoulder, you moan at the sensation of Yoongi sucking and biting lilacs and rose blossom marks into your skin before skimming over them with his tongue.

Words are lost on you - all you could do is moan out pathetically at the attention you’re receiving. The small space is getting harder to see with the hot steam clouding your sight. One hand finds the back of Yoongi’s neck and tugs on his ebony hair, allowing his head to snap up to look you in the eyes, “J-just fuck me, Yoongi, please,” you plead.

Yoongi doesn’t waste another moment as he kisses you again, and he grips his cock in his hand and aligns it with your pussy before sliding all the way in one fluid motion, causing your back to arch in his arms against the tiled wall. Giving you a moment to adjust, Yoongi trailed his lips from your mouth and along your jaw before kissing up to your ear, his teeth nipping at the sensitive lobe. The breathy sounds only add to the slick in your cunt.

“Move,” you moan out, your voice breathless and airy. Yoongi pulls out, leaving just the head in before thrusting all the way back in. You gasp out at the impact, followed by a series of moans and whines as Yoongi captures your left nipple between his teeth, suckling the sensitive bud into his mouth, before pulling away with an obscene groan of his own.

“Gotta be quiet in here, baby.” Yoongi grunts, punctuating his words with never ending hard thrusts into your pussy, head falling forward onto your shoulder as his nails dig into the flesh of your thighs. “You never know who’s around.”

Your pussy clenches at his words; the thrill of being caught in a public place is one thing, but the thought of being caught somewhere public with a man you shouldn’t be  with was another. You lower your head towards his shoulder and leave open mouthed kisses on his skin in desperation. The shower water does somewhat of a job of concealing both of your moans. 

“Gonna c-cum Yoongi,” you whimper. 

“Me too baby, won’t last much longer. 

Yoongi sighs in euphoria as he brings one hand up to knead your right tit while his tongue swirls and sucks the left one, worshipping every inch of your body. Yoongi keeps up his pace to get you to your release first, a true gentleman. Moving his hand back to your ass, he curves his fingers into your skin, leaving small, barely visible crescent shapes with his small nails as he continues to fuck into you relentlessly. 

Yoongi can always tell when you’re near your release as you clench your warm inner walls around his cock repeatedly as he never falters while piledriving you into the wall. Your head falls back as you clench around him one more time.

“I’m comi-!” 

Yoongi cuts you off with a kiss to mask the volume of your moans. Your eyes snap shut, white spots appear in the inside of your closed lids as your second orgasm washes over you with immense power. The climax is stronger than you initially thought as you feel wetness all along the inside of your thighs before being washed away by the water from the overhead shower hose.

With a few more erratic thrusts into your creamy cunt, Yoongi seizes and holds you up with every bit of strength in him he has left. With help from the wall and your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he relishes in the

sweet bliss of release overcoming him like a freight train.

Yoongi looks down to where your bodies meet, watching the way his cock throbs as he releases inside of you. It’s been a while since he’s filled you up like this. He rides out his orgasm slowly, sliding in and out of you, admiring the way his load puddles at your entrance.

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devil's playthings | myg

⤅ SUMMARY | Yoongi has been widowed for over 2 years now—long past the time of mourning—and has made no move to remarry. Despite all the eligible maidens trying to catch the rugged duke’s eye, he’s stayed stubbornly idle in his search for a wife. For a man at court, especially at Yoongi’s standing, remarrying was essential and highly expected; even though the man had heirs and his lineage was assured, a wife was a political move, and a highly coveted one. None of this slipped the young princess’ mind, her sharp eyes on the much older man. But Yoongi should be careful—“for Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.”

⤅ RATE | 18+

⤅ PAIRING | (dilf)duke!yoongi × princess!reader

⤅ GENRE | royalty au, magic au, forbidden relationship

⤅ SIN | sloth (for the ✥ 7 Deadly Sins collab ✥)

⤅ WARNINGS | age gap, use of sex pollen, mentions of m!masturbation, dirty talk, slight (slight) degradation, marking, spitting, titty fuck, facial, deep throat, oral both!receiving, sixty nine, fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, choking, breeding kink/breeding, spanking, squirting, hair pulling, clit slapping, cervix contact, overstimulation

⤅ WC | 9.3k

⤅ A/N | whoo it's finally here!! No one clown me for making even a royalty au a dilf fic 🤡 I also want to shout out @sunshinekims and @kithtaehyung for lending me their lovely names for this fic <3 and of course @sugasbabiie , who’s enthusiasm fueled me from the start <3 hope you guys enjoy! +

playlist + drabble

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back-burner | 01

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

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

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

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

WORDS. 2.8k

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

unedited :-( !!!!

back-burner masterlist | next chapter

"You're staring again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who says I'm not acknowledging it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Again, Miss ____?"

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

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

"No Miss, that's not what—"

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

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

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

"What the—?"

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

"Go away, Yoongi," you grumble.

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

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

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

"Do you," you sneer.

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

"Yes," you lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff.

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

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

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

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

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

That time, Yoongi appeared.

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

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

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

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

From then on, the rest was history.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Listen, let me take you home and—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do enlighten me," Yoongi blinks.

"Guys I think—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let her go, Jungkook."

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

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

"Am I," Yoongi blinks, unamused.

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

"Follow me."

Jungkook freezes. You freeze.

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

Like he's threatening you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good fucking luck."

andante cantabile || MYG x reader

pairing: myg x f!reader

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

chapter rating: 13+

wc: 10.4k

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

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

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

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

masterlist: 1 | 2 | 3 | coda

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

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

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

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

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

Unacceptable!

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

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

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

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

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

“Then let’s go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. and Miss Jeon! Welcome!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your joy proved short-lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope there are no health issues?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And today, you very much appreciated to be indulged.

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

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

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

“Mm.”

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

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

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

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

Silence fell in the drawing room.

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

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

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

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

Not by Mr. Min’s.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I imply nothing!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, Aberton Hall suddenly was far too quiet.

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

Inside the drawing room, the pianoforte waited for you.

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

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

A familiar sonata rested on the music desk.

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

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

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

Finally, the day of the ball arrived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you tonight, Miss Jeon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It all started so well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mood soured at once.

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

But the damage had been done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook, as expected… and Mr. Min.

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

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

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

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

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

“A misunderstanding?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why did you feel so burdened?

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

→ pt. 2 💕