seen from United States
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seen from Nicaragua
seen from Germany
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seen from Argentina
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seen from Canada
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LOST is funny bc other sci-fi media are like: but what if you time travel and kill your grandpa? while LOST is like: but what if you time travel and your mama kills you? ever thought about that, hon? ever wondered how the concept of non-existence PALES in comparison to the fact that your last moments on this earth are about realizing your mother knew she was gonna kill you the whole fucking time? ever thought about THAT, sweetheart?
When it belongs to us
— Min Yoongi | Bridgerton AU —
~ Recklessness under Moonlight ~
pairing: Yoongi x reader(f)
rating/genre: pg; regency, slow burn.
summary: To protect your family and his rising empire, the Duke Min must navigate a minefield of blackmail and high-society scandal. It is a game of risks and unspoken desires, where he must decide if he will follow the rules of the ton or burn them down to claim the woman he loves.
warnings: yoongi is a menace, high-society courtship politics, reputation stakes.
note: This is part 3 of a series, I highly recommend reading part 1 and 2 first to understand the story. Thank you so much reading this story, it’s been so fun writing it but a little challenging because I want to skip to the spicy parts already :s but Yoongi is such a gentleman I swear. Once again, I hope you like where the plot is going. Taglist is open and if you have any suggestions, feedback or questions drop it on my asks or comments. Happy reading!!
word count: 3.6k
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Epilogue
—
If the ton wished to scrutinize Min Yoongi, then Min Yoongi would give them something impeccable to examine. His ball was announced with precision and perhaps a hint of quiet ostentation, it was simply, him. A way of letting the ton know his position and the power he holds. Selective invitations, strategic guest list and, most importantly — Your family received theirs first.
The townhouse on Grosvenor Square glowed that evening, music spilled into the street, carriages lined in glittering procession. Inside, every candle had been placed deliberately, he had done this before. Hosted. Negotiated. Positioned. Yet he had never hosted for one person.
Until tonight.
You arrived in ivory silk and silver details — luminous, understated, devastating. He saw you the moment you stepped through the doors, he was drawn to you, and for the briefest second — the briefest — his composure slipped. It wasn’t enough for the ton to notice but enough for you and you couldn’t hold the slight smile that caused you. All eyes were now on him; his whole aura wasn’t just expensive—it was an exercise in intimidating elegance in favor of a palette that feels like moonlight and midnight.
He crossed the floor.
“Miss,” he said, bowing slightly lower than necessary.
“My lord. Your home is impressive.”
“It is efficient,” he corrected.
“And tonight?”
His eyes held yours as he smiled devastatingly. “Tonight, it is intentional.”
Your breath fluttered. He danced with others first, and you knew exactly why. He never did anything without cause, he was being proper but most importantly, he chose his dance partners strategically. To the misfortune of the girls who were swoon by his dashing eyes, and gentlemanly manners, information was all he cared about. That was until the orchestra shifted to a slower waltz — deeper, more intimate — that’s when he approached you again.
“This one,” he said quietly extending his hand for you.
You did not pretend to hesitate. His hand settled at your waist, familiar now, the feeling on your skin of multiple understated silver rings on his fingers, breaking traditional etiquette just enough to show he makes his own rules. Yours rested over his shoulder, only this dance was different, this was in his house, his domain and you were in it.
“You are very calm for a man under scrutiny,” you murmured.
“I find scrutiny clarifies matters.”
“And what has it clarified, my lord?”
He guided you through a slow turn, drawing you closer than before — still proper, but only just.
“That I do not wish to court half-heartedly.”
Your pulse quickened, eyes fixed on his.
“You are aware that your guests are observing us with alarming intensity.”
“Yes.”
“And you persist.”
“Yes.”
The music softened in the background; your faces were closer now, you could see the expression in his face turning into amusement.
“You are enjoying this,” you accused gently with a soft smile but his expression changed, there was a frown that made your heart sink for a moment. He exhaled softly.
“No.”
That makes you falter in your steps, the seriousness and shift of emotion.
“I am enduring it.”
“Enduring?”
“Because if I allow myself to enjoy this,” he said quietly, “I may not behave as wisely as I should.”
The honesty made your heart skip a beat, your cheeks turning pink and suddenly, you couldn’t look at him in the eye, and oh did he enjoy making you flustered, that deadly smirk was back on his face. The dance ended too soon after that but he did not release your hand immediately.
“Walk with me,” he murmured.
It was improper, quite dangerous in your current situation… and you went anyway.
—
He led you to the conservatory that was connected to the grand hall so it wasn’t completely improper but the atmosphere had shifted now. Glass walls all around you, the moonlight shining through the panels illuminating the room that made the atmosphere feel softer and definitely more inviting to break certain rules, although it was still visible from the ballroom, it was distant enough for privacy without scandal. He was careful. Always careful with you.
“You should not be alone with me,” you said softly.
“I know.”
“And yet…?”
“I wished to speak without an audience.”
He stepped closer, the music and chatter drifted faintly through the glass.
“You should know,” he said quietly, “that Ashford has begun pressuring certain investors.”
You frown at that.
“He believes tightening financial channels will unsettle me.”
“Will it?”
“No.” His gaze softened slightly. “But what unsettles me is this.”
His hand lifted hovering at your waist again.
“I am not accustomed to wanting something beyond reason.”
Your voice lowered. “And do you?”
“Yes.”
The word was immediate and unfiltered making you breathless. The distance between you had narrowed, his fingers finally settled at your waist allowing you to feel the warmth through your dress. He leaned closer, slowly. You knew he was giving you time to refuse but you didn’t, your hand slid to his lapel as his breath brushed your lips. This was not ballroom proximity. This was highly improper. His mouth hovered a breath away as your heart pounded on your chest.
“Yoongi—”
Your name in his voice was almost a confession, a sweet, guilty desire, and then— He stopped. His forehead rested briefly against yours as he exhaled sharply.
“No.”
The word sounded like it cost him everything, you could feel his hand tensing, his eyes closed for a moment and then he looked at you with so much restraint and something close to pain.
“No?”
“I will not compromise you,” he said, voice low and strained. “Not here. Not when all of Mayfair and half of London waits for a misstep.”
“You are the one who brought me here.”
“To speak,” he corrected softly with a small smile.
Your cheeks flushed but it wasn’t from embarrassment, it was want. When he pulled back slowly his control reassembled with visible effort.
“When I press my lips upon yours,” he murmured, “it will not be because gossip cornered us.”
The promise in that made your pulse riot, his hand lifted — hesitated — then gently brushed a stray curl near your temple, barely touching but it was reverent, it would have been so easy to step away, it would’ve been wise, but instead, you leaned slightly into it.
“And when will that be?” you whispered with closed eyes as you felt the warmth of his touch on your skin, making you miss the moment his eyes darkened slightly at your actions.
“When it belongs to us.”
Footsteps and laughter approached beyond the glass and he immediately stepped back just enough, he was composed again.
“Return before they begin imagining worse,” he said gently.
You looked at him — truly looked… he had stopped himself and it made your heart nearly come out of your chest because you knew, you knew he stopped not because he did not want to but because he did… and that fact left you reeling. You returned to the ballroom breathless, spiraling about what just happened.
Wanting more.
—
It came three nights later. A charity musicale at Lady Pembroke’s, very respectable, very crowded, and perfect for spectacle. Ashford waited until the performance concluded and conversation swelled, then, with calculated ease, he approached Yoongi who was holding a conversation with a cluster of influential gentlemen.
“You must forgive my curiosity,” Ashford said lightly, loud enough to gather attention. “But I am intrigued by your sudden fervor for preservation of reputation.”
There was a subtle shift in the room but Yoongi remained composed.
“I find integrity efficient,” he replied calmly.
Ashford smiled thinly. “Indeed. Particularly for men who have spent years persuading society to forget… humble beginnings.”
There it was. He didn’t need a scandal, it was a simple reminder of origins and his ascent, it was a reminder of difference.
Murmurs stirred and eyes flicked but Yoongi did not flinch, glass in hand, observing the ton with a cat-like gaze. His clothes didn’t scream for attention; they commanded it by being the darkest, most sophisticated point in a room full of neon silks, just as his entire aura.
“My beginnings are the reason I value what I build.”
Ashford stepped closer wanting to intimidate. “And do you believe those who marry into old families are so generous in their memory?” The implication was clear, he looked as you stood several feet away, a knot in your throat as the ton observed.
Yoongi’s gaze flicked to you only briefly, then back to the man in front of him. “I do not intend to marry into a memory,” he said evenly. “I intend to build a future.”
Ashford’s attempt to shame him into defensiveness failed because yongi did not rise, he did not lash out… he stood unmoved.
The power dynamic shifted subtly because composure under insult is far more intimidating than outrage. Ashford withdrew for the night, frustrated.
—
The next morning, London awoke to something unexpected. A formal announcement delivered through none other than Lady Whistledown. Expensive and gorgeous… sweet scent filled your drawing room by the flower arrangement sent very publicly to your residence witnessed by neighbors and curious passersby.
It wasn’t cliché roses, he sent white camellias because they meant devotion, discretion and admiration; attached to them there was a note:
I choose you, too. — M.Y.
That afternoon, he called properly with your mother present. He did not ask permission, he stated his intentions so there was no doubt.
“I wish to continue courting your daughter, no matter the circumstances or threats” he said with a charming smile.
Your mother studied him, looking for any intention of wavering. “You understand the resistance, your grace.”
“I do.”
“And you still wish to continue courting my daughter?”
“Yes.”
Your heart pounded as you hid your smile under the cup of tea, your mother exhaled slowly.
“Then you will do so correctly.”
He inclined his head.
“Always. I only intend to put end to… certain affairs that threaten your peace first.”
When he rose to leave, his fingers brushed yours to lift them to his lips, his touch soft and delicate, he meant to reassure you. You met his gaze and this time, there was no hesitation in it, you were certain he would keep his word.
⸻
The social event today was a garden party, a bright afternoon and harmless setting, or so you thought… only polite society gathered, but that is just exactly where the worst kinds of threats are delivered. You had stepped away from the crowd, not foolishly secluded of course, it was merely far enough as you required a moment alone, but he was watching you, always keeping you in sight, that’s when his shadow fell across the gravel path.
“Miss.”
You did not startle, you refused to give him that satisfaction. “Viscount.”
He did not bow but you weren’t expecting it. “I believe we require clarity.”
“We require nothing.”
His jaw tightened at your reply. “You mistake Mr. Min’s composure for invincibility.” He stepped closer crowding your space, imposing pressure. “He is not as untouchable as he appears.”
You met his gaze steadily, you did not want to fall into his games. “Is this another warning my lord?”
“No,” he said with a devilish smile. “This is a proposal.”
Your stomach dropped, eyes widened as the words landed like iron.
“I intend to offer for you.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am entirely serious.”
“You have made your position on my family quite clear.”
“And marriage would settle that,” he replied smoothly. “Your reputation restored. Your mother secure.”
“And in exchange?”
“His grace stops meddling in my affairs, he goes back to being secluded in his own world. He never bothers us again.”
The audacity stunned you.
“And if I refuse?”
His expression shifted, you could see the fake charm thinning, he turned for a moment to examine the surroundings, then lower. “Then… I remind the ton precisely how Mr. Min acquired his fortune.”
Your pulse faltered. “That is not scandal.”
“No,” Ashford agreed quietly. “But implication is powerful, investors grow nervous when reminded that a man rose quickly. That he once held debts. That certain early partnerships were… aggressive.”
You almost wanted to slap him for insulting the Duke. “He built everything honestly.”
“I did not say otherwise.”
The cruelty was in the insinuation.
“You would damage him because I declined you?”
“I would damage him because he forgets his place.”
Rage flared inside you, hot and bright. So much so you could punch him, but you knew better, you knew this had to be dealt carefully. “You are afraid of him,” you realized softly, and for the first time, something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
“I am offering you protection,” he said sharply. “Accept my proposal and this ends.”
“And if I do not?”
His voice lowered. “Then I ensure Mr. Min’s ascent becomes the subject of every drawing room. I squeeze every contract, test every alliance, and I do not stop until his reputation is in shambles… just like your mother’s.”
Your hands trembled in anger and frustration but your voice did not. “You overestimate your power.”
“And you underestimate my persistence.”He stepped back then, composure returning. “I will call tomorrow,” he said smoothly. “I will properly ask your mother and then you may provide your answer, but be careful Miss, consider the situation you find yourself in and question if this reckless behavior is worth ruining your precious Duke.”
And then he left you standing in the sunlight, the world suddenly colder.
⸻
You do not tell Yoongi; not that evening, not the next morning. You cannot decide which terrifies you more: that Ashford could wound him or that Yoongi would refuse to bend and destroy himself defending you because that is the type of gentleman he is.
When Ashford’s carriage appears outside your home the following afternoon, your mother stiffens visibly, clearly preoccupied and considering every possible outcome after you told her everything.
“He cannot be serious,” she whispers.
“He is mother.”
Your mother lets out a long, defeated exhale. “I am sorry my girl, I’m afraid, this is all my fault.”
He enters with polished confidence, a bow to your mother, she politely offers tea and cake, anything to prolong his torturous and malicious plan. You try to think about anything that could make him withdraw, any sort of hope that you can cling onto to at least make him withhold his proposal but before you can prevent it — He formally requests permission to propose. The room spins, you almost fall on the chair while your mother hesitates, and you know it’s not because she favors him or any other gentleman in particular, at least not one that she would openly admit is hers and your only ray of hope in this dark moment, but because refusal invites retaliation, and nothing scares her more than that. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to you because of her actions or past misunderstandings.
You feel the walls closing.
“Lady Esphelt?” he prompts softly.
And that is when the door opens quite dramatically and loudly.
“Forgive the interruption.”
Yoongi.
He goes against his instincts and does not look at you first, this time he looks at Ashford. “I was not aware proposals were conducted under coercion.”
The silence is suffocating and Ashford smiles thinly. “You presume much.”
“I rarely presume,” Yoongi replies calmly. “I confirm.”
Your mother rises. “Gentlemen—”
Ashford’s composure cracks just slightly. “This is a private matter Min.”
“No,” Yoongi says evenly. “It ceased to be private when you attached my name to it.”
Ashford steps closer. “She deserves stability.”
“And you offer it?” Yoongi asks with a scoff. “Or leverage?”
The air hums. You look at Yoongi and, in that moment, he sees it, fear flickering despite your control. His fists tighten and something in him hardens.
“If you threaten my affairs,” Yoongi says quietly, “be certain yours can withstand scrutiny.”
Ashford’s smile falters. “Be very careful, Min.”
“I am.”
“I suggest you withdraw your proposal,” Yoongi continues. “Before you are forced to.”
Ashford studies him for a moment and then laughs lightly. “You think you have something on me?”
Yoongi’s gaze does not waver. “I know I do.”
The shift in his attitude is subtle but real, and for the first time, Ashford looks uncertain, almost… afraid, he turns to you one last time. “This is not concluded.”And he leaves.
The moment the door shuts, silence crashes down and you turn to Yoongi.
“How did you know?”
“I did not,” he admits quietly “I suspected.”
—
Later that night, in his study, Yoongi reviews ledgers brought discreetly by a banking associate. Patterns, transfers, delayed payments.
Anything that could reveal… — And then, he finds it. A signature. It wasn’t Ashford’s, but tied to one of the duke’s supposed “investments” years ago. The money that saved Ashford’s estate had not come from the duke, it had been rerouted through a shell holding. One Yoongi now partially owns, which means Ashford’s estate survived because of funds connected indirectly to Yoongi’s own early partnerships.
If exposed, it would reveal Ashford’s desperation. His dependency and hypocrisy, and most importantly, the fact that the scandal surrounding your mother conveniently erupted just days after those transfers. Yoongi leans back slowly, a realization forming. Ashford did not merely benefit from rumor, he orchestrated it for survival. And now— Yoongi has proof. It may not be enough to destroy him outright, but it’s enough to destabilize, to level the board in his wicked game.
⸻
Ashford does not waste a second but he does not challenge Yoongi directly like the coward he is, he attacks the ground beneath him and within days, whispers begin. It’s all very subtle, poisonous words and all carefully planted.
At White’s, a gentleman remarks that Mr. Min’s earliest ventures were “aggressively timed.”At a musicale, lady Berbrook murmurs that rapid ascents often conceal inconvenient alliances. At a luncheon, someone questions whether certain debts from years ago were entirely resolved. It wasn’t concrete, nothing was really actionable, but it was enough to get a blow. Investors hesitate, invitations to social events begin to slow, eyes linger longer during promenades, and then— the worst of it, whispers speculating whether “new money seeks legitimacy through strategic marriage.” Your name is not mentioned but the implication is unmistakable. You are were not chosen, you were merely useful.
At the next public event — a soirée at the Harrington estate — the air feels different, it is curious and judgmental but still polite. You enter with your mother and conversation dips, the eyes of the ton on you waiting to see how you react and how the Duke will respond. Across the room, Yoongi stands among a cluster of men, composed as always, if he was aware of the scrutiny he was under, he did not show it. Ashford approaches him openly this time.
“I do hope you are not troubled by idle chatter,” Ashford says with fake pleasantry.
Yoongi’s expression does not change. “I am rarely troubled by fiction.”
Ashford’s smile thins. “Be careful it does not become narrative.” And then he does something bolder, he raises his glass getting the attention of everyone surrounding them. “To industrious ambition,” he mocks, making several men chuckle. “May it always remain… transparent.”
The insult lands and all eyes shift to Yoongi, the ton is waiting, testing him, and all you can do is stand there with a knot in your stomach. If he reacts defensively, he loses and if he says nothing, he appears diminished. Yoongi sets down his glass and steps forward.
“Indeed,” he says with poise and silence spreads.
“Transparency,” he continues with his voice measured, “is precisely why I have commissioned a full public audit of my early ventures.”
Ashford’s smirk falters and you can see everyone staring to whisper, curious eyes shift from him to you and back.
“I find,” Yoongi adds, “that clarity is the simplest cure for rumor.”
There’s a ripple of surprise and a couple chuckles from the audacity of his words. He turns slightly — not to the men, to you, and holds your gaze unshaken and confident sending you a message, hoping you trust him still.
I will not bend.
Ashford’s upper hand begins to slip because a man who invites scrutiny is rarely afraid of it, and the ton loves boldness almost as much as blood.
⸻
The following afternoon, without announcement, Yoongi openly arrives at your home and your mother receives him with controlled apprehension.
“You are aware,” she says carefully, “that the air grows volatile your grace.”
“I am, and I will persist. Your troubles will not last long, I can assure you.” he replies.
He turns to you then and his face turns softer.
“Walk with me.”
Your mother hesitates but allows it in the garden, visible from the windows and with your lady’s maid walking behind. Proper.
You walk the gravel path in strained silence until you can no longer bear it. “You should distance yourself,” your eyes suddenly very interested in your shoes. “For now.”
“No.”
“They are questioning your integrity.”
“They are questioning my independence.”
“And that does not concern you?”
He stops walking and turns to you fully.
“It concerns me only if you believe them.”
Your heart quickens as you feel the intensity of his eyes on you. “I do not.”
“Then nothing else matters.”
You shake your head. “It is not so simple.”
“It is precisely that simple.”His voice lowers — more raw than before. “I did not build my life to surrender it to gossip.”
“And if your audit reveals something inconvenient?” you challenge softly.
He steps closer. “Then I will address it.”
“And if they turn on you?”
His eyes search yours. “Will you?”
The vulnerability in that question nearly undoes you. “Never,” you whisper.
The atmosphere shifts as you understand that this wasn’t a strategy or about pride, there was emotion behind his words and you see his composure faltering.
“I will not allow him to intimidate you into marriage,” he says quietly. “Nor will I permit him to suggest you are leverage.”
Your stomach flutters. “You risk much.”
“I risk nothing that I cannot rebuild.”
But you see it. The fatigue beneath his calm, the weight he refuses to show anyone else. You stop in your tracks in front of the small water fountain in the garden and without thinking, you reach for him. Your fingers curl lightly into the front of his coat, you can feel when he goes very still.
“You are not alone in this,” you say softly.
The words crack something open, he exhales — sharp, almost unsteady. His hand rises to your waist and you look over his shoulder, your lady’s maid has “conveniently” fallen behind, far enough that you cannot see her in this little path of the garden covered with flowers. It’s only you two, and you realize what he requested of her moments before you came down to the garden. He bribed her.
His touch wasn’t cautious this time. “You should not comfort me,” he murmurs.
“Why?”
“Because it makes me forget restraint.”
The air thickens yet you do not step away.
“Perhaps,” you whisper, “restraint is overrated.”
That does it. He pulls you closer firmly but not rough, your bodies align and you feel the heat of him through layers of pink fabric, his hand slides to the small of your back, and you breath stills.
“You test me,” he says, voice low.
“And you endure it.”
He leans down slowly with Intent very evident. His lips hover at your temple first, then your cheek, a whisper of warmth, your pulse races, when his mouth finally brushes the corner of yours— it’s soft and barely there but charged. You inhale sharply as he deepens it by a fraction, just enough to make your knees weaken, then he pulls back abruptly, control slamming into place.
“Not yet,” he breathes.
You look wrecked.
He looks worse.
“When I kiss you properly,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your jaw, “it will not be in defiance of another man.” He looks at you with tenderness and desire, his hand raises to brush your hair with great delicacy. “It will be because I cannot wait any longer.”
The unspoken hangs between you. Inside the house, a curtain shifts and he steps back, composed once more but his eyes burn.
“I will end this,” he says softly. “And then I will court you without shadow.”
You believe him and that might be the most dangerous thing of all, because you are not certain either of you can wait much longer.
tbc :)
⸻
Beautiful people ✨: @yoongiiuu93 @kalamity-cherry-blossom
( 𝟯𝟵 ) ✏ goodnight
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none
𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲
minjeong had been to hundreds of important dinners. her father took her on his business trips often, allowing her to be well educated in table manners and etiquette.
but she knew this wasn’t just any important dinner, it was dinner with your sister.
she was more nervous for this than her upcoming finals.
however, dinner went better than minjeong had anticipated. after all, she had been practicing what to say and do in the car on her way over to your house anyway. but even besides her preparation, your sister made her feel right at home at the table.
but nothing prepared her for how beautiful you looked all dressed up. sure, you showed up to every tutoring session overdressed. however, she had never seen you dolled up to this extent. every time her gaze landed on you, her heartbeat stuttered and she found herself struggling to focus on the food in front of her.
“your top, it’s chanel, right?” jennie asked with a small smile as she tilted her head to the side, subtly raising her eyebrows at your tutor. minjeong knew without a shadow of a doubt that jennie had caught her staring at you. the blonde glanced down at her shirt before looking up and nodding. “yes, it is. i believe my mother got it for me a while ago.” the idol hummed in response before chuckling. “did y/n ever tell you what happened to the first chanel bag i got her?” immediately, your face turned red and you glared at your sister from across the table. “hey!”
the president’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked between you and jennie. “no, she hasn't. what happened?”
you groaned, burying your face in your hands. your sister was embarrassing you on purpose in front of the girl you were head over heels for. “jennie, please don’t.”
your older sister ignored your plea, her smile widening. “so, i bought her this beautiful one of one chanel bag for her birthday. she was so excited and loved it so much that she insisted on taking it everywhere. but one day we were out at some korean barbecue place in new york and she accidentally dropped it on top of the side dishes.”
minjeong’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. “oh, that’s not good. what happened then?”
jennie laughed, shaking her head. “she was mortified and the bag was covered in sauce and kimchi juice. we had to get it professionally cleaned overseas, and that was a whole other ordeal. but she learned her lesson about taking expensive bags to restaurants.”
you peeked out from behind your hands, face still flushed. “i was just excited, okay? and i was trying to be careful.”
the blonde turned to look at you with amusement in her eyes. “is that why you make me carry your bag when we go out to eat?”
you laughed, feeling the initial embarrassment melt away. “maybe.”
minjeong chuckled, shaking her head. “well, you’re lucky i don’t mind.”
your heart fluttered at her words, and you smiled back, unaware of your sister’s smile forming at the sight of you two.
the rest of the evening passed in a comfortable haze, the three of you watching a movie together. jennie eventually excused herself to get some rest, leaving you and minjeong alone. not before she told you two to “behave yourselves.”
the living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the tv screen, casting a soft glow over minjeong’s features. and just like in the car, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring how beautiful she was.
after a while, minjeong broke the silence, snapping you out of your gaze.
“i’ve noticed how hard you’ve been working. i’m proud of you, y/n. i know you’re going to do great on your finals.”
your chest swelled with gratitude and affection. all your efforts had made a difference in your grades, but you knew that your finals would make or break you. to hear such words of affirmation from the girl who had helped you made you feel entirely more grateful.
“thank you. that means a lot coming from you.”
the blonde’s eyes wandered from the screen to meet yours. there was something different about the way she looked at you. it was a look of admiration, mixed with something deeper, something that made your heart race.
“stay.” you whispered, the words coming out before you could stop them. minjeong’s eyes widened slightly, a visible blush creeping up her cheeks, even in the dark. “stay?” she repeated, her voice barely audible.
you nodded, gathering your courage. “yes, stay. here.with me. please.” the glow of the tv screen danced shadows across both of your faces. “i’ve already moved out of the apartment on campus because finals are this week and i don’t want you to leave.”
the president couldn’t say no to the honesty in your voice, or the way you looked at her. then again, she didn’t think she could say no to you ever.
“okay.” she whispered with a small nod. “i’ll stay.”
“thank you,” you breathed, feeling a surge of warmth towards her.
minjeong returned your smile, though a hint of shyness colored her expression. you gestured towards the stairs. “come with me.” the invitation was soft yet inviting, and the blonde knew you were not asking out of lust.
nodding slightly, the blonde followed you to your room. the air was charged with a newfound tension, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. once inside, she closed the door behind her, the soft click echoing in the silence.
minjeong glanced around the room, her eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. your room was fairly large, and definitely had your touch. despite the darkness outside, the room felt cozy and inviting.
the walls were painted in a soft shade of white that reflected the gentle illumination, giving the room a soothing ambiance. large windows with open shutters allowed moonlight to filter in, casting ethereal shadows on the plush white carpet that covered the floor, creating a tranquil atmosphere.
against one wall, a queen-sized bed took center stage, dressed in luxurious white linens adorned with a subtle pink floral pattern. the pillows and duvet were arranged meticulously, and minjeong felt comfortable just looking at them. above the bed, a white canopy hung elegantly, swaying gently in the night breeze that filtered through the slightly open window.
on each side of the bed, a sleek white nightstand held a softly glowing lamp with a blush pink lampshade, casting a soft, warm light that illuminated the delicate features of the room. a small stack of books and a delicate vase of pale pink roses added a touch of elegance and serenity to the bedside decor.
across from the bed, a comfortable nook was decorated with an armchair upholstered in pale pink velvet, adorned with a fluffy throw blanket that spilled over the armrest. there was an acoustic guitar along with an electric keyboard. next to the instruments was a record player and white bookshelf that held several vinyl records inside of it.
she never would’ve taken you for a music enthusiast, but given who your sister was, it wasn’t too surprising.
near the window was where your desk stood, its surface adorned with a few personal items and a softly glowing pink himalayan salt lamp that emitted a soothing ambiance. above the desk, a gallery of framed art in shades of pink and white added a personal touch and a hint of sophistication to the tranquil space.
however, there was one photo that caught her eye – it was you and your sister.
the blonde gently lifted the frame, studying the photograph with a soft smile. she admired the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, mirroring the joy reflected in your sister’s expression. you looked way younger, but it was clear from the photo how much your sister meant to you. it was still evident, even now.
it reminded her of how she once was with her brother.
as minjeong set the frame back down, her gaze drifted back to you, who stood nearby, watching her quietly with a soft smile playing on your lips. your hands were tucked behind your back, hiding something from her view.
“i have something for you,” you said gently, your voice carrying a hint of excitement as you brought your hands forward, revealing a pair of hello kitty pajama pants. “i accidentally ordered two, so we can wear these and match.”
amusement settled onto the blonde’s features as she took the spare pair from you with a small smile. “they’re definitely more your style, but i think they’re cute.” she said before she held them up for a better look, the soft fabric swaying slightly in her hands.
you grinned, feeling a rush of warmth at her acceptance. “you can rock them too, don’t worry. let’s change and get comfy.” you replied as you motioned towards the bathroom that was connected to your room. “the bathroom is there.”
minjeong nodded, and the two of you quickly changed into the matching pajamas. the president hated to admit it, but she did like the pants. as she settled back on the edge of your bed, she couldn’t help herself but stare at you while you brushed your hair at your vanity.
your hair fell over your shoulder in ways the blonde could swear were perfect. the way you, usually overdressed and complaining about the weather affecting your hair or your skin, could look so beautiful in hello kitty pajamas and slippers.
“i feel like i’m at a sleepover,” minjeong remarked with a chuckle, looking down at the adorable pattern on her pants. “well, it is our sleepover,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “now,” you rose from your chair and grabbed her hand to pull you towards the bathroom. “it’s skin care time.”
minjeong followed you, a smile tugging at her lips. “skincare time, huh? when is bedtime?”
you grinned and gave her a playful eye roll as you replied to her over your shoulder. “soon. it’s barely 11.”
“you do know i’m usually asleep by 10, right?” the blonde replied, but you ignored her comment and gently pinched her hand. “consider this your night of indulgence,” you teased, leading her into the bathroom.
minjeong chuckled, shaking her head slightly but clearly enjoying herself. “alright, alright. i trust you won’t give me chemical burns or something.”
in the bathroom, you laid out a variety of products, explaining each one to minjeong with enthusiasm. she listened attentively, clearly intrigued by your routine.
at least, she was trying to pay attention, but it was hard to do so when you were so close to her face.
minjeong’s eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment before meeting your gaze again. there was a playful, yet tender look in her eyes that made your heart race. “okay, i’m ready,” she said softly.
you gently applied the cleanser to her face, your fingers grazing her skin with a light touch. “see, it’s not so bad,” you said with a smile.
the other girl closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the sensation. “you’re right, it feels nice. feels expensive.”
“jennie got it for me, so i'd definitely bet on it being more than expensive.” you chuckled while the blonde took another subtle glance at your lips.
as you moved on to the next step, you found yourself leaning in even closer, your focus entirely on her. the room was filled with the soft scent of the products and the quiet sounds of your movements. when you applied the toner, you felt her shiver slightly under your touch.
“cold?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“a little,” she admitted, her eyes opening to meet yours. “but it’s okay.”
you continued with the moisturizer, your fingers gently massaging it into her skin. minjeong’s eyes fluttered closed again, a content smile playing on her lips. the intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of you.
once you finished, you stepped back to admire your work. “there, all done. how do you feel?”
minjeong opened her eyes, her gaze soft and appreciative. “amazing. thank you, y/n.”
you blushed under her intense stare, your heart pounding in your chest. “you’re welcome, minjeong.”
“do you want to sleep with me?” you asked on your way out of the bathroom. the blonde’s eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped slightly. “what?” she stuttered out, the sound causing you to turn around in confusion.
however, you quickly realized how you had worded your words.
“oh!” you exclaimed, “i meant like do you want to sleep here in my room or the guest room.” you rambled quickly, trying to explain yourself.
the president chuckled softly, a playful glint in her eyes. “oh, right. here is fine,” she replied with a warm smile, following you into the room. “as long as your sister won’t kill me in the morning.”
you chuckled, relieved that she took your clumsy phrasing in stride. “jennie won’t mind. she trusts you more than she trusts me.”
as you both settled onto the bed, there was comfortable silence that lingered between the two of you. however, you broke that silence after a few moments.
“i’m worried about finals.” you said in a voice barely above a whisper, eyes glued to the canopy above you. you had three final exams, which were all on friday, the last day of school. the blonde girl slowly turned her head to stare at your side profile, concern in both her irises and her heart. “you’ll do great, i know you will. i’ll help you get ready for them, too.”
your heart warmed at her supportive words, and you turned to face her, grateful for the reassuring presence beside you. “thank you, minjeong,” you replied sincerely, a small smile playing on your lips. “i appreciate that.”
she reached out and gently took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently while her heart raced against her chest. “i’ll be here to help you every step of the way.”
“but what about your finals?” you protested slightly, worried that the other girl would be too caught up in helping you that she would have no time to study for her own exams.
minjeong smiled reassuringly, her thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “don’t worry about me. i’ve been studying since last week, and i’ll manage my time. besides,” she added with a gentle smile that reached her eyes, “helping you is just as important to me.”
you felt a surge of gratitude mixed with a touch of guilt. she had helped you so much this semester, and yet here she was, still willing to help you during the most important time.
“thank you,” you murmured sincerely, squeezing her hand in return. “i really appreciate it.”
her smile softened, and she leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “i want you to succeed, y/n. and i know you will.” the blonde hushed as she gently pulled you into her arms, the scent of your lotion and shampoo filling her senses.
you felt a rush of emotions as she gently pulled you into her arms, and you swore your heart was going to explode as it hammered. however, you could feel hers beating just as loudly once she fully pulled you in. her embrace was tender and supportive, just like you had always dreamed of it being.
resting against her, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. minjeong’s presence was a comfort to silence your nerves, easing the weight of impending exams and everything else that usually plagued your thoughts at this hour.
“now, let's get some rest. tomorrow, we tackle those exams together.”
“goodnight, minjeong.” you whispered as your eyes fluttered shut. you felt the blonde smile against you as she whispered back. “goodnight, y/n.”
but just as you were about to let sleep pull you under completely, you felt her lips pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.
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CLOSED.
Every Afictionados Best Line Award (Honorable Mention)
LOST Episode 514: The Variable by the Afictionados Podcast Network
The Constant (s4 ep5) and The Variable (s5 ep14) respectively
still pissed at lost 5x14 the variable
STOP THINKING ABOUT VARIABLES DANIEL THAT GETS YOU KILLED
WHY NOT THINK ABOUT YOUR CONSTANT INSTEAD HMM. WHY NOT KISS HIM WHILE YOU'RE AT IT
school is the only place where you can ask “so, can x be anything between 1 and -5 or is it everything between 1 and -5” and people will start laughing at you.
