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octalove · 4 years

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IV: The Dinner

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Brief note; per demand, this little trilogy will now be an ongoing series🥺thank u all for the support! i was not expecting it at all. ur comments make my day!! i hope u enjoy this chapter bearing in mind that i wasn’t intending on a full length fic, so i hope u can put up with any missteps in the plot or writing. i’m making it up as i go. kiss kiss

Description: Reader makes an ally, and attends a tense dinner. part one, two, and three.

A mild blue dawn was just beginning to flit through the blinds, and I sighed heavily, stretching a little, and running a hand across my face. My skin was cold to the touch. Rolling over stiffly, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

5:26a.m.

Nineteen minutes before my alarm. I was too cold to go back to sleep, I knew, as much as Alfred had requested I try and get more of it. Pulling myself up, the sheets slipped off my bare shoulders and folded onto themselves. Once in a blue moon, I would forego making it up again, usually accompanied by an excuse. Today, I didn’t have one. I put my feet on the floor, mind buzzing.

I was done tossing and turning, and decided to get up and shower. Afterward, I threw on my uniform, and got to work on my face. A little bronzy eyeshadow, some mascara and lip balm. I could’ve turned my face into a work of art, but I was tired from my sleepless night and doing much else seemed like a strain.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I was expecting Bruce or Alfred, but I caught Tim’s reflection in my vanity mirror.

“Hey.” He said.

“Good morning.” I replied tensely. He sat on my bed. Okay. Weird. Tim was a year younger than me- but always ordained himself something of an older brother. His brainpower made learned helplessness and easy state to slip into when he was around- always fixing my PS4, or recovering lost files from my laptop. When we first met, I used to use those things as a crutch to interact with him, as neither of us were particularly forthcoming. These days, we were as close as any pair of siblings.

“What’s up?” I asked, tucking away my mascara wand.

“Oh, I just thought I’d… check up on you. Before school started.”

I was the only one of the Waynes attending Gotham Academy at the moment. Damian was still at Gotham Prep, but by the time he would attend next year, I’d be graduated. I wondered if Tim ever missed it. He garnered his fair share of attention; mostly because of his attractive status and predisposition of agreeability. Before he dropped out, I used the be the subject of mediation for every eligible teenage girl that wanted to get to know my brother- no, the other one. With the soft hair. The chem tutor.

I laughed a little. “Do I seem like I need it?” Tim shrugged. I got up and plopped on the duvet beside him. My window was open a crack, filling the room with a chilly breeze and the scent of moisture and petrichor.

“Did Bruce make you get up for this?” I tried again, keeping my playful tone. He sighed and shook his head.

“Bruce isn’t the only one who’s noticed you lately.” He said, with contrasting seriousness that made my smile fall.

“What’s there to notice? Seriously.” I questioned.

He sighed again and twisted his lip. I knew what that meant. He was about to list everything different I’d been doing for the past three weeks, either alphabetically or by severity. “You look tired. You get home and go straight to your room. You keep fidgeting during briefings. You look distracted. You’re avoiding Damian- which, I get it- but like, more than usual. Dick said you haven’t texted him all week. You usually have something to say about your day at dinner, but-“

“Okay. I get it.”

A brief moment passed, where I watched him pull a looser string from the duvet.

“I know you went somewhere. On the 21st, when we were patrolling in Otisburg. You went somewhere for forty-two minutes.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything-“ He added quickly, looking at me. “Really, I have know idea why you left. I’m sure it was nothing, I just… you’ve been acting weird ever since. Where did you go?”

I swallowed, and my intestines felt like lead. Really, I was relieved. Here I was, in my room I’d decorated with Wayne money, with my brother who evidently cared enough about me to notice my typical word count at dinner, asking me what was wrong. And a lot was wrong.

So, I smoothed my plaid skirt and told him about the night of the 21st- and only that. From Red Hood, to Hoffman, to the warehouse. Every vivid detail I could remember. I decided to leave out my little truancy adventure, along with meeting him in the alley. Lifting up his mask. Having his exposed skin close enough to touch. His gunpowder smell. By the end, Tim was frowning. The following silence could’ve crushed a coke can.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah.” I echoed. “Shit.”

He didn’t asked why I didn’t tell Bruce. Or Anyone. He didn’t ask why it was so important to me to do this by myself. All he did was take in the information and start putting it together.

“Jesus- you could’ve died. But all that Hoffman stuff. Why you?”

“Exactly!” I breathed.

Another knock on the door, and Alfred’s voice carried through, telling me it was time to go. I got up. Tim nodded and followed suit, no doubt carrying my every last recounting in his piggy-bank memory.

“Please don’t tell Bruce.” I said, some amount of fear slipping into my voice. “I know it was a stupid thing to do and it was stupid not to tell anyone. But he’ll never trust me again.” Tim hesitated at the door.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

I climbed into the backseat of the car, and stared at the cityscape running past the windows. The anxiety had lifted. One of my growing number of secrets revealed. In its wake, the sudden absence left a sense of clarity. I remembered why I had kept it to begin with.

Dick was gifted. The first. The talented boy who could fly. Babs and Tim were brilliant; genius far beyond the confines of academia. Damian was skilled. Trained from birth, the blood son. It nestled here him neatly, right where he belonged. What was I? I wasn’t born with athletic ability beyond my years, or genius intellect. Without that information- without my secrets- I had nothing else to give.

Thursday night was dinner. The whole family. It was Bruce’s excuse to drag Dick out of his apartment in Blüdhaven, and for Alfred to exercise a new recipe, since everyone was on a strict lean-means and superfoods regimen every other waking day. Babs attended occasionally, when work didn’t keep her busy, and Tim was only allowed to pass if he promised to rest instead.

I met his eyes as everyone was rounded into the dining room by Alfred like a herd of sheep; he gave me some imperceptible knowing look that promised to keep my secret.

We sat down and sipped water from crystal glasses as the table was set with food, muttering amongst ourselves about our days. Dick was given a coffee with the wrong name (‘Nick’), Babs met up with her friend from high school (Olivia something or other), and Damian completed a group project with some incompetent classmates (they all were- even the professors). Vigilante talk wasn’t forbidden, but generally skirted around so as to offer a small reprieve of normalcy during the week.

There was an exception to this unspoken rule when there was a particularly exciting case on the table. Unfortunately for me and my anxiety, the case of the Red Hood was a very exciting one.

“Any new breaks with Red Hood?” Dick asked through miso soup. Bruce sighed.

“He made some movements in Robbinsville. Gone before we could get there. He’s got his men on a tight leash- we couldn’t get any of them to talk.”

“Course not. There’s rumors flying all over the department. One of the Ioveanu family branches payed out a huge security detail for their private mansion.”

“He hasn’t hunted anyone in their home, has he?” I asked. I pictured him standing in front of me- maskless, in my academy uniform.

“No, it’s not his MO.” Barbara answered.

“Not yet. It’s only been six months, and he’s progressing rapidly.” Bruce diagnosed grimly.

“Are you scared he’s gonna join us for dinner?” Dick joked, throwing a wink my way.

“Haha.” I muttered. Actually, I hadn’t slept because of the very idea.

“If you’re nervous, you could always stay home next patrol.” Damian suggested pointedly. To him, existing in the realm of crimefighting was a competition, and he was always looking for others to drop out of the race. I resisted the urge to fling a pea at him.

“I’m not nervous.” I said coolly.

“You’ve been practically trembling since we fought his pathetic lackeys.”

“Damian.” Bruce warned, from the head of the table. I flipped the smallest Wayne the middle finger. He resigned, but I swore I saw amusement on his lips.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Red Hood is very skilled and very prolific. It’s a daunting case.” Bruce continued.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. Really.” I said, trying not to sound annoyed, and feeling like a spotlight was over my head, operated by the ghost of Hoffman. I almost laughed as I pictured it.

“That’s good to hear. We’ve been concerned.” Alfred added.

“Wow. I’m the star of the show around here.” I remarked dryly.

“We can’t help it, Miss Independent.” Dick said teasingly. “You’re just a good mystery.”

“Reminds me of Talia.” Tim said casually. The silverware stopped clanging.

It was a shameless subject change. Damian’s mother was an inflammatory topic for all parties. Bruce’s moral contempt didn’t reach the likes of Talia Al Ghul and Selena Kyle, immoral though they were. Beauty makes anything charming- and when paired with an impeccable taste in dress, even murder and thievery can be minimized into something of a quirk. Bruce thought so, anyway.

As for Damian, he had grappled with his dismissal from Talia’s side for what was now a majority of his life, and still possessed this deep-rooted, inextinguishable attachment to his mother. It was the hollow soreness any young boy would have in his position. Tim called him mama’s boy until he finally displayed a frightening amount of disdain for the title and actually begged him to stop. Tim agreed to, and I agreed to pretend I never heard a thing.

Dick disagreed with both of those sentiments and viewed Talia as someone who wasn’t worth the trouble. His dismissal embarrassed Bruce and offended Damian, so I knew the dinner table had been sufficiently turned into a powder keg. Tim and I shared a look as I expressed silent gratefulness, and he resigned to inspecting a dumpling, while I picked around my haka noodles.

The rest of dinner was quiet. Somehow, somewhere in the silence all had been decidedly forgiven. First by Babs who asked me to pass the pepper. Then by Dick who said the vegetables were good. Thank you, Alfred. Damian still looked pissed, and Bruce kept stealing glances at the clock.

I texted Tim under the table.

Thanks for taking one for the team.

The reply: You owe me one. I think Damian’s gonna poison my food.

We both glanced at the youngest, who was darkly mesmerized by what appeared to be Tim’s soup bowl.

He quickly added, Wait, actually tho? And we both fought laughter like two kids in the back of the class. It felt good to have an ally. Even if he still didn’t know the whole truth.

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spacenerrrd · 6 years

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Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover: Chapter 5

Sander Sides

Word count: 1,646

Characters: Patton/Creativity, Virgil/Anxiety, Patton/Morality, Logan/Logic

Warnings: Kinda a panic attack, please let me know if I've missed something xox

Summary: Logan runs a library in a small town, allowing him to share his love of books without feeling left out. His business partner and friend Roman helps by running the bright Disney themed cafe that attracts more people to stay for longer. The two clashing but somehow perfect match of a friendship went their days peaceful in their small community until one day a new pair of brother; Patton and Virgil, moved into town and showed the owners a new way of life.

Chapter five: Background

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

~~~

Tap.

Logan's nails were neatly trimmed, looking identical aside from size, which meant the taps sounded almost musical as it went from deep to high pitched. Every time it was the same pattern, tapping quickly beside each other with exactly a second break before the taps started again. He knew his mother would be disappointed, she always thought tapping was as bad as biting nails. But he couldn't help it. It kept him grounding, being able to hear the constant echoing of the surface being disturbed because of him. That he affected something, that he really did do something and wasn't just existing. Learning also did the trick. Getting lost in a book where he could learn about anything and everything made him felt important, especially when it was about space. He didn't like people knowing though. He didn't want them to think he was weird or had a problem. He didn't want to be forced to think that he did it because of his problem like his father told him. This didn't work though, when he couldn't help himself to correct people when they got something wrong or to rant about space for 10 minutes when someone said something as simple as “star”. It made it even more obvious when someone corrected him. He never took criticism well. Especially when he was known as the library owner who can tell you exactly what happens in every single book lined up on the shelves or the tutor who can tell you the first two hundred numbers of pi without a breath. He clutches his hand into a fist and has to physically bite his tongue until it starts to bleed for him to not argue that he was actually right. His world starts to spin and make him sick as he excuses himself to go in the bathroom and sob. He is hardly functional for the rest of the day and he gets no sleep to practice and practice and revise and revise what he got wrong to make sure it never happened again. Roman was the only person around who knew what happens when he got something wrong. He hated people thinking he had something wrong because he didn’t want anyone to think of him as anything different to the knowledge he was. So he tapped his fingers away to keep himself grounded when he couldn’t learn, to not lash out with the emotions he spent so long to keep buried. He tapped away to make sure no one would be able to know anything was wrong, to get rid of his worries through his fingertips, hoping the item being abuse by them would absorb his emotions.

Currently, he was tapping away as he was worried about Lucy. She had come in earlier than usual and went to grab a book that instantly turned Logan’s worries on. With the book Alice In Wonderland in her grasp, she sat down in the farthest corner of the library and hid her face behind it as she started to read. Logan knew that pose. It meant she wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. He couldn’t leave her though. He needed to keep an eye on her, especially when he saw the beaten knuckles holding tightly onto the book and the tears that covered her cheeks when she lowered the book slightly. He was standing there, waiting for the moment where she would put the book down and want someone with her. He needed to make sure he was there for her when it happened. Without knowing it, Logan had taken up a father figure in Lucy’s life and he needed to make sure he protected her at all costs.

“My golly Lo, what did the shelf do to deserve such a harsh beating from your fingers?”

Logan jumped, taking a step back from the shelf. He already could feel the ground leaving his feet as he couldn’t tap anymore. He cleared his throat, making sure no evidence that anything was wrong. “Nothing. I was merely standing here and tapping my fingers. Is there a problem with that?”

“Well of course not! It’s just that you look kinda lost.” Patton’s voice was full of worry and concern, which a friend was suppose to do when your face was becoming more pale by the second as stuff started to spin around you. But Logan just wasn’t use to having a friend yet.

“I, no I’m fine, I just… I need to go to… I got to-” he turned to Lilly but saw Roman already holding her as she seemed way calmer than before.

Wow, you can't even take care of her.

Can you do anything right?

Honestly you should just give up.

“Lo, what’s going on? Can I help?”

“Patton, no, stop!” Logan shouted at him, leaving Patton as well as the other two who heard in the corner as he ran off through the shelves.

Patton stood there, shocked and confused and feeling guilty. He didn’t notice he had started crying until Roman placed a hand on his shoulder and snapped him out of it.

“It’s been a long week for him. It’s not your fault though, I’m sure he’ll tell you soon.” Roman spoke softly, getting a small nod in response. “Come on, we’re going to read some Alice In Wonderland.” Roman walked Patton over to Lucy who was sitting in the bean bag corner. She looked up and gave a soft smile to Patton, it looking a bit strange with the tear stains on her cheek. They all sat down together, the sounds of their breathing and her broken voice reading the sixth chapter of the book calmed them all down.

Roman was doing a final check around the library before closing up. He had sent Lucy and Patton home, of course not before getting a flirt line in with Virgil and was cleaning the stray books from the shelves. Even though he assumed that no one was here, he knew that Logan would somehow find out that he didn’t check and he would rather not get in trouble by an agitated Logan in the morning. The door creaked as he opened it and when the sound of sobs filled his ears he realised that he didn’t see Logan leave earlier. He walked in properly and saw a pair of glasses, smashed like they had been thrown against the wall. He looked across to see Logan collapsed, slouched with puffy red eyes. Streams and streams of tears stained his cheeks and his hair was a mess. It looked like he tried to take off his tie but left it hanging loosely around his neck. “Oh god Logan.” Roman rushed to his side. “Can I touch you?”

Logan nodded, collapsing against him. He seemed almost dead, shallow breathing with tears silently falling. He didn’t reciprocate the hug that Roman gave him, he just needed to embrace the warmth that Roman gave off. Trying to follow Roman’s breathing, his eyes were starting to give into the exhaustion and he fell asleep.

Logan woke up. Feeling exhausted and eyes stinging whenever he tried to open them, he felt around to find himself in his own bed. Confused to how he got there, he picked up his phone to hope that Roman texted him about what happened. His breath got caught in his throat when the time read 3:46. He immediately opened his messages to text yell at Roman until he saw he already have a text from him.

‘dont flip your shit, ive got the library under control’ ‘i told the students you wouldnt be in but theres probably someone you want to explain some stuff 2’ ‘he was really worried’

Logan sighed, laying on his bed and thinking. Patton didn't deserve to be yelled at yesterday. He didn't mean to, he's just never had someone who….cared so much. Roman was the only exception, and he hated how he wanted Patton to know about him and cared. He hated it because he was starting to care for the man in the glasses and grey cardigan and his little brother. Logan groaned and got out of bed, throwing the most, and only, casual clothes he had. Leaving in sweats and a non professional hoodie, by the time he walked he arrived at the library it was already 4:57. Cursing himself for not being efficient with time, he open the door to run straight into someone's chest. “I apologize, I was thinking about- oh.” He looked up to see Patton staring at him with a smile.

“Hey Lo, I was so worried about you yesterday! Virgil knows, I was so scared something bad happened!” Logan looked around to see Virgil trying to hide his flustered face; Roman must've gotten to him again.

“Yes, I....I'm sorry about yesterday. I was wondering if….you wanted to stay after closing so we can….talk and 'hang out’ per say.”

Patton gasped. “I would LOVE that! We can watch movies and eat snacks and I'm sure Virgil will love to spend some more time with Ro!”

“Shut it.”

Logan actually smiled a little bit. “Well, I guess if you'll come in then, we can 'hang’ until it closes so we can, um, watch movies.”

They all sat in the bean bag corner, Mulan being projected against the wall. Roman was whispering stuff to Virgil that either made him giggle or go completely red and try to curl deeper into his hoodie. Logan leant against Patton's shoulder, not needing to reciprocate the side hug that he was given because Patton understood now. “Thank you….for staying.”

Patton smiled down at him. “Why would I leave? I love hanging with you.”

Logan smiled back. “I like hanging with you too.” He put his hand on Patton's leg and started to move his fingers.

Tap.

~~~

Sorry this took so long guys! I’ve been having kinda a hard time but now I’m on holidays so I should be able to get a new chapter (maybe) out soon!!

Next chapter

Tag list amigos:

@deathbyvenusftw @moonlightinwater @princeanxious @roman-is-a-gay @coffeekeyboardsss @ocotopushugs @thepoolofthedead @sanders-sides-things @angered-turtle @gayrobotalien @rebaobsessions @a-ghosts @catsandrandomness @fricksonsticks @v-blue-writer @hanramz-the-fander @your-username-is-unavailable @emphoenixcat @daughterofsomnus @anaveragegayfan @louisthewarlock @saro510-mp4 @6tick6tock6 @nienna14 @fandomsofrandom @notalwaysthevillian @thestoryoferissur @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes @virgil-crofters @thatgaydemigodnerd @ijustreallylovesanderssides @221b-quote @bubblycricket @charlielgbt @why-only-have-one-fandom @jesjessode @thrown-out-pasta

#sorry this took so long guys #but i hope you like this all #sander sides #logan #logic #patton #morality #roman #creativity #virgil #anxiety #thomas #thomas sanders #sander sides fanfic #prinxiety #logicality #don't judge a book by its cover #djabbic

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mingyoozi · 7 years

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Wonwoo: Blood for Blood, Bloom for Bloom (pt 1)

photo cred ©

[table of contents] I. II. III. IV.

anonymous asked: hello! if its not too much, can i request a wonwoo hanahaki disease au scenario? like i want it very angsty bc i lov to break mi own heart but i dont want anyone to die. thank you, you lovely little bean hehe ^~^💛

Summary: a kind of fictional historical thing based in the tudor era but like u can’t really call it that cuz like did henry VII or queen elizabeth actually ever reign in this fictional world ??? that’s the real question.. also mingyu and wonwoo don’t wear those ugly ass balloon pants that were classic of the tudor era…. I wouldn’t do that to them… nor would I let them do that to themselves….

The sounds of an orchestra playing and feet shuffling in the background fade. Your shoes suddenly feel like nothing, unlike the previous iron weights that they had felt like before. Every blister and bruise becomes completely unknown to you. You lean against the window, the latticework cold against your cheek as fatigue settles into your bones, though only out of the anxiety of having to dance with strangers in the middle of a loud room.

“There you are,” You hear from behind you. You don’t turn toward the voice, knowing exactly who it came from and knowing also that you’d rather not see him right now.

“Here I am.” You state, your voice sounding pathetically weak and getting lost and muffled in the glass panes of the window.

“Your sister is looking for you.” Mingyu says. He reaches out for you, placing a hand on your shoulder, but you shrug it off with a sigh.

“When is she not?” You scoff.

“You shouldn’t be walking around with that kind of attitude. She may be your sister but she’s still the next queen and this is still her wedding party.” He scolds. It’s accompanied by a flick to the back of your head.

You grimace. “I wasn’t the one who gave her the flowers, I don’t see what good my help will do.”

“Your sister’s ineptitude of self control isn’t the problem here,” He hisses, taking you by the forearm and dragging you back through the palace. “It’s the fact that you’re not there to hold her hair back while she expels petals into her chamberpot that is.”

You scoff, but you let him drag you down the corridors and deposit you at the door to her room. You knock on the door, but you don’t wait for her reply. The lantern beside her bed is dwindling, providing only a dim light to only a small portion of the room. You can hear retching coming from the darkest corner.

“Oh, Jieun.” You gasp. You rush to her side almost immediately, letting the door swing shut behind you. The light from the corridor peers in through the cracks.

“I’m alright.” Jieun insists, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

As annoying as the situation is, you still feel bad for her. She is your older sister, after all.

When your parents died and your uncle had shipped the both of you off to a neighbouring kingdom, a betrothal sitting heavy on Jieun’s shoulders, she had taken care of you. She watched over you and made sure that you still received the same love and attention that you would have had at home. And now, rubbing Jieun’s back as you watch the colour return to your face, it dawns on you that it’s your time to return the favour.

She takes deep breaths as she sits on the floor, her hand clutching yours as she feels the familiar pangs of the rose in her torso digging its thrones into her heart and her stomach. She had always loved roses as a child, and you can only think of one person who loves roses more than she does. That’s how you’d figured it out in the first place.

“Stupid Mingyu,” You curse. “I should’ve killed him as soon as the first petal fell from your lips.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She grumbles. She lets you help her up and onto her bed.

You kneel behind her, forgoing your expensive dress and your stiff crinoline. “Give me one good reason why.” You say as you untie the back of her corset.

“Because it’ll only make things worse. I’ll have a disease with no cure.” She says, tilting her head back so that you can brush her hair.

You clench your jaw. “You already have a disease with no cure. Mingyu is devoted to the king, he wouldn’t let himself fall in love with the king’s betrothed, even if he wanted to.” You say.

“Alright, then because he’s your best friend.”

“You’re my best friend.” You argue. She giggles, though it’s interrupted by a cough.

“I’m your best friend by blood,” She says. “Mingyu is your best friend by choice.”

“It wasn’t my choice.” You grumble. She giggles again, and it’s an incredibly sweet sound to your ears.

You had a quiet upbringing, a life and education without music. Jieun was trained in politics and the traditional instruments of your ancestors, where you were trained to hunt and read and write. Royalty had never suited you, and being the youngest of five in line for the throne had always been a relief as it allowed for more leniency towards your whims.

Jieun could have been your parents’ successor and you could’ve stayed at home with her, had it not been for your uncle taking over and promising her to the Jeon dynasty. Your three brothers had been allowed to stay in your kingdom, your uncle favouring a local education influenced by your family’s own beliefs than the education of another culture.

The cultural differences between your kingdom and the Jeon’s had never ceased to amaze you in the few months that you had been living with them. You hadn’t been allowed to go to school, only seeing tutors in the palace who were shocked to see a girl practicing writing. Only certain people were allowed access to the library, so you found yourself quickly lacking an entertaining pastime in the first few weeks, until you met Mingyu.

“You should go.” Jieun suggests as soon as you’ve finished brushing the knots out of her hair. “The queen will want to speak with me about her son.”

You roll your eyes. “He probably thinks the flowers are for him.” You say, getting up and returning to your pile of clothing. You struggle into your crinoline and your silk dress, silently thanking your dressmaker for putting the laces on the front of your bodice instead of the back.

“You’ve never even met him. He’s not that bad, Y/N. He likes reading, like you. And he’s actually quite tolerable.” She says, laying on her side and pulling the sheets over herself.

“Tolerable,” You mutter distastefully under your breath, so low that Jieun doesn’t hear it. “Get some rest, Jieun. You’re looking frail. I’ll call someone to light the fire for you.”

Jieun is right. You don’t have any right to be insulting the king when you’ve never seen him around the palace even once. Though, that is cause for concern, given your curious nature and the fact that you had investigated every corner of the bright-tiled castle within your first week of living here.

Mingyu is still standing outside when you exit Jieun’s room, leaning against the wall and staring down at his boot-clad feet.

“Oh,” You let out. “You’re still here.”

He chuckles. “Yes, I’m still here.” He says.

If it wasn’t for your sister’s infatuation and your general distaste for royalty, you might regard the next king’s best friend in a better light. Mingyu’s cheeks fill out just enough that they aren’t overly or underly pronounced, laying under perfectly sculpted cheekbones and bright, joyful eyes. A good face and a good build make Mingyu the most eligible bachelor in this kingdom and yours.

“Want to accompany me in crashing my sister’s wedding party? Seeing as she won’t actually be able to attend it herself.” You ask.

He grins at you with that perfect smile of his and extends his arm. “I’m not sure if crashing is the right term. It’s not like either of us weren’t invited.” He says.

You take his arm and allow him to lead you back towards the ballroom. He helps you down the wide flight of stairs, his arm sturdy and reliable under yours. You know that he would catch you if you fell, because he has before. You’re not worried about that. You’re worried about the crowd that awaits you at the end.

“You won’t leave my side, right?” You whisper as you near the bottom of the staircase.

Mingyu snorts. “And throw you to the wolves? Would I ever do that to you?” He says.

You shrug. “You’re very unreliable.”

He laughs, the action of laughing consuming him entirely. It throws you off kilter, and you stumble down the last few steps without much grace and without Mingyu to catch you.

You are caught, though, at the very bottom of the stairs, by someone with a slightly less muscular frame than Mingyu’s but just as much height. Mingyu rushes to your side as the stranger pushes you to your feet, his dark hair and dark eyes entrancing you for a mere second, though you miss the crown that sits atop his head.

“Pardon me, my lord.” You mumble, your cheeks blazing as you dip your head in a curtsey.

“Mingyu,” The stranger says, a scolding tone laced through his voice. “Is this how you treat a lady? You laugh at her and then push her down the stairs?”

“She lost her footing, your highness, and the laughter was all in good fun.” Mingyu defends himself.

The words ‘your highness’ ring through your ears, and your face starts to feel hotter than it had before. Mingyu elbows you in the side and you stand up straight, willing your face to cool down.

“Don’t look so flustered, my lady. I’m sure this brute was the one at fault here.” Wonwoo says.

Mingyu scoffs and Wonwoo chuckles.

“Just for that, you can find someone else to teach you sword fighting.” Mingyu threatens. He turns away from you, leaving you and forgoing the promise he had made to stay by your side.

Wonwoo laughs, wholeheartedly and deep in his throat. “Ignore him.” He suggests.

“I’ve been ignoring him for weeks, I don’t think he’s caught on yet.” You joke lightly, still nervous about being in the presence of your sister’s new husband.

“Tell me, what brings you to my wedding party? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” He asks.

“Queen Jieun, your highness. She’s my sister.” You reply.

Wonwoo’s smile falters, but he clears his throat and it’s back in an instant. “My condolences, my lady. The flowers are a terrible illness that I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemies. I will watch over her well. I assure you that she is getting only the best medical attention.” He says.

“Of course,” You say. “I wouldn’t think anything less of the Jeon family. You’ve all been very kind and attentive.”

“Would you happen to have an idea of who caused the flowers?” He asks.

You stare down at your hands, guilt settling in your stomach.

“Does it concern you, your highness?” You ask, evading the question as much as possible.

You know that Wonwoo doesn’t love your sister, he doesn’t even feel anything close to the puppy love that your sister is harbouring for his best friend, but you can’t help but fear that he’ll do something regretful to either or both of them.

You keep your eyes low as he replies.

“Indeed, it does. Jieun is young and full of life, it would be a shame to see her taken so early by something so small as an unrequited love.” He says.

You nod. “I agree. Unfortunately, your highness, I haven’t seemed to come into that information. Jieun and I are close, but there are some secrets that you keep only for yourself.” You say. He sighs.

“That is unfortunate. But, I digress. I’ve heard a lot about you, my lady. Your sister speaks very highly of you and Mingyu seems quite taken with you.” Wonwoo says.

You shake your head, your cheeks turning red again. “My sister is my sister, and Mingyu is a fool.” You say, encouraging a chuckle from Wonwoo.

“Yes, you’re not wrong.” He agrees.

The song changes and he offers his hand to you. It’s a song with a slower tempo than before, and the floor begins to clear in favour of more experienced dancers.

“Er, pardon me, your highness. I don’t dance.” You say.

He shoots you a grin that takes your breath away. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt like this around someone of such high stature. His teeth are perfectly aligned, something that you rarely ever see. It’s possible that he might be even more attractive than Mingyu is, though it’s more in your personal taste than conventionally thought, a statement that you thought you’d never say or think.

His cheekbones rest high on his face and his jaw is strong and sharp. You find yourself wanting to reach out and caress his skin that looks so fair and so perfect. The inevitable heirs that he will have with Jieun are bound to be beautiful. They’ll most likely have his dark hair and dark eyes, and Jieun’s upturned button nose.

The thought sends a sour feeling straight to your core, the idea of Jieun holding his children in her arms. For the first time ever, you can feel something that you’ve never felt before. It twists in your gut in a way that makes you want to scream and laugh at the same time.

“Neither do I. I was wondering if you’d like to continue our conversation somewhere where we can actually hear each other?” He suggests.

“Oh,” You say, your voice doing nothing to contain your shock. “I suppose I’m not needed elsewhere. But what about you, your highness? It is your party.”

“Yes, it is. Is this not mingling?” He teases, his grin widening.

You roll your eyes. “You’re just as much a fool as Mingyu Kim.”

next.

#I'M REALLY EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES !!!!!#EVEN IF I DO ALWAYS ABANDON STORIES HALFWAY THROUGH #I never write 2.2k at the very beginning so... we're off to a good start hopefully #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo scenario #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #angst #bellybutton fluff #hanahaki disease!au #x #requests

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