4scoups

Seungcheol

Jeonghan

Joshua

Junhui

Hoshi

Wonwoo

Woozi

Dokyeom

Mingyu

Minghao

Seungkwan

Vernon

Dino

English is not my first language, sorry if my grammar is incorrect.🐱

English is not my first language, sorry if my grammar is incorrect.🍒

"I’m telling you guys, it’s Y/N!” Seungkwan insisted, gesturing wildly with a burger in his hand. "She blinked two times when Hoshi hyung died. That’s the blink of a cold blooded killer."

Y/N didn't even look up from her cards, her expression a mask of bored indifference. "I blinked because my eyes hurt, Seungkwan. Also, you’ve been trying to frame me since the round started. Deflection 101."

"It’s not deflection! It’s intuition!" Seungkwan said.

"It's a grudge because I wouldn't share my snacks earlier," she countered, finally meeting his eyes with a playful squint.

"You’re being suspicious," Seungkwan narrowed his eyes, leaning across the coffee table. "Only a Mafia would bring up food to distract the innocent citizens of this town."

"And only a Mafia member would be this loud to hide their guilt," Y/N shot back. “You're literally sweating. Look at his hairline, guys. He’s panicking."

The rest of the members were vibrating with laughter. It was their favorite dynamic. The two of them bickering like an old married couple, sharp tongued but clearly obsessed with each other.

"I am not sweating!" Seungkwan gasped, offended. "Jeonghan hyung, tell her! Tell her she’s the mafia!"

Jeonghan, leaning back with a mischievous glint in his eye, just shrugged. "I don't know, Seungkwan-ah…..."

That was when Mingyu decided to intervene. He had been eliminated in the first round and was currently acting as a self-appointed moderator.

"Honestly," Mingyu piped up. "I think Seungkwan is just bad at this because he’s distracted. He kept looking at Y/N's cards during the night phase. He’s probably the Mafia and just trying to protect her so they can win together. It’s actually kind of pathetic."

The room went silent. Seungkwan and Y/N froze. Their heads turned in perfect synchronization toward Mingyu. The bickering stopped instantly, replaced by a terrifying, unified front.

"Pathetic?" Seungkwan’s voice dropped, his "variety show" persona vanishing into pure, protective sass.

"And you think he needs to look at my cards to win?" Y/N added, her voice is dangerously calm. "Mingyu, you were voted out in 10 minutes because you literally couldn't stop grinning when the Doctor saved you. You’re the last person to talk about game strategy."

"Yeah," Seungkwan chimed in, crossing his arms and nodding. "And distracted? I can multi-task, hyung. I can love my girlfriend and dismantle your entire argument at the same time."

"We weren't even playing together," Y/N said, standing up to stand beside Seungkwan. "But now? Now I hope he is the Mafia so we can take you out first next round."

Mingyu held up his hands, backing away. "Whoa whoa okay! I thought we were all on the same side here!"

"The side is Not Mingyu.” Seungkwan declared, reaching out to pull Y/N into his side. She tucked herself naturally under his arm, the mock-argument completely forgotten. The room erupted. DK was doubled over, hitting the floor in hysterics, while Wonwoo just shook his head at the scene.

"They’re scary when they’re on the same team," Dino said while laughing loudly.

Seungkwan looked at Y/N, a triumphant grin breaking across his face.

Feedbacks

YN was in the middle of what could only be described as a linguistic marathon. Her hands were moving like she was conducting an orchestra, a half-eaten chicken burger forgotten in her hand.

"And then the lady at the grocery store tried to tell me that the baking powder and baking soda are the same thing! Can you believe that? I stood there for like 5 minutes explaining the difference. I think I saw her soul leave her body for a second, but I had to finish my point, you know?"

Vernon sat comfortably in a low lawn chair. His head was tilted, his eyes locked on her face with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for a complex studio mix. He wasn't just hearing her. He was studying her.

He didn't interrupt. He didn't check his phone. Every few seconds, he’d let out a soft, "Really?" or a low, amused chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. When she finally paused to take a breath and a bite of her burger, he reached out and gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"So," Vernon said, his voice smooth, calm contrast to her high-speed delivery. "Did you buy the baking powder and soda??"

"I bought three each," Maya sighed, leaning into his touch. "Out of spite."

Vernon beamed, a slow, whipped grin spreading across his face. "Iconic. Tell me more about the grocery lady’s reaction."

Meanwhile on the other side of the yard, clustered around the dinner table, the rest of the group was shamelessly eavesdropping.

"She’s been talking for twenty minutes straight," Seungkwan said, checking his watch.

"Look at Vernon’s face, though," Hoshi said, shaking his head while his own partner leaned against his shoulder. "He looks like he’s watching a movie. He’s completely gone. Whipped.”

Mingyu’s partner giggled nudging Mingyu. "It’s cute! Usually, Vernon is the one we have to poke with a stick to see if he’s still awake in meetings and recordings. YN is like his personal radio podcast."

"It’s not a podcast, it’s a monologue," Jeonghan chimed in. "I tried to join them five minutes ago to ask if they wanted soda or juice. Hansol didn't even look at me. He just held up a hand to silence me because YN was “getting to the climax” of a story about a cat she saw at the park."

"He’s so gone for her," Dino’s partner added, smiling at the sight. "Look, she’s doing the hand thing again."

Back at the roses, the noise of the party felt miles miles away. YN finally slowed down, her voice dropping as the sun began to set.

"Sorry. Am I talking too much?" she asked suddenly ears turning red. "I feel like I’ve been yapping for hours."

Vernon reached out, taking her hand. He looked at her, his expression soft and genuinely confused by the question.

"No," he said simply. "Please keep going. I like the sound of your voice and I love hearing your stories.”

YN smiled. "Oh…Okay, so, back to the grocery store… uhmm did I mention the parking lot situation?"

"Tell me everything," Vernon whispered, leaning in closer.

Feedbacks

Y/n, seven months pregnant and glowing despite the exhaustion of moving day, stepped over the doorstep. She rested her hand over her stomach. "It’s perfect, Chan. It feels...familiar. Like we were always supposed or used to be here."

Chan smiled, hugging her close. As a professor of Korean history, he usually dealt in cold facts and dusty manuscripts, but even he himself couldn't deny the strange pull of this land. From the balcony of their house they could see the stone walls of a preserved "Old Palace" just a few kilometers away.

Later that evening, while Hana rested, Chan stood under the cherry blossom tree. The moon was high, casting a light through the blossoms. As he brushed a petal off his shoulder, a sudden and sharp dizziness hit him.

"They have chosen a Crown Princess for me,” Jeonghan told her one night in the secret garden. He didn't look like a future King that day. He looked like a man being led to the to the darkest prison.

Y/N bowed her head, her fingers digging into the fabric of her hanbok. "She is the daughter of minister Kim. A good match, Your Highness."

"Do not call me that.” he snapped, his voice trembling. He grabbed her wrists firm but his touch was gentle, like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go. “Tell me to run. Tell me to leave this palace, this name and this blood. If you ask it of me, I will go."

Y/N looked at him. She saw the exhaustion in his shoulders and the duty engraved into his brow. If he left, he would be hunted.

"I am a maid of the palace, Your Highness," she said but her eyes held sadness that her voice refused to say. "And you are the future of Joseon. We are exactly where we are meant to be."

She bowed before he could answer. Before he could reach for her. She walked away with heavy steps leaving her heart behind in the space between them.

Chan blinked, the world rushing back. He was shivering, his hand still raised in mid-air. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "Too much work," he muttered to himself. "It’s like I’m dreaming about my own lectures damn…”

He went inside to find Hana sitting at the balcony, staring out the window toward the Old Palace.

"Baby, are you okay?” Chan asked, rushing to her side.

Hana looked up, her eyes misty. "Chan, I just had the strangest dream. I was looking at the palace ruins, and for a second, I felt this...overwhelming sadness. Like I was waiting for someone who never came home."

Chan froze. He pulled a chair up next to her, his professor brain trying to rationalize it, but his heart racing. "What else did you feel?"

"Just... the smell of cherry blossoms and the sound of someone calling me…" she laughed weakly, wiping a tear. "I must be hormonal. It’s just a house, right?"

Chan didn't answer immediately. He looked at his wife, the woman he had met by pure chance in a crowded university library and realized they had both pulled toward this specific plot of land, this specific view of the palace, as if guided by an invisible string.

A week later, Chan was at the university archives, finishing a paper on "The King who never took a concubine and is known for his wisdom and his coldness.” He was looking through a newly digitized set of private diaries found in the foundations of the Old Palace.

The very one near their new home. His breath hitched as he scrolled through the scans.

The diary belonged to the King. The diary was full of the King’s unsaid feelings to an unnamed palace maid from the north palace.

"They call this a throne, but today it feels like a witness stand where I am being sentenced to a life without you." the text on the diary said.

“If there is another world after this one, I pray it is a place without kings or maids just a field where I can finally walk toward you without the weight of a kingdom holding me back, my love.”

Attached to the file was a sketch found within the diary. It was a charcoal drawing of the Prince.

Chan felt the blood drain from his face. The man in the drawing had his eyes, lips and the same slight mole.

When Chan returned home that evening, the sun was setting. Hana was standing in the garden, her hand resting on the trunk of the tree.

"The baby is kicking," she called out, smiling as Chan approached. "I think our child loves this cherry blossom tree."

Chan walked up to her, his heart full of a thousand years of unspoken words. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his hands over hers on her belly.

“Then we’ll make sure he grows up right here," Chan whispered, his voice thick with a certainty that transcended the present. "Under this tree, in this house."

Hana closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the cherry blossoms and the steady, familiar beat of Chan’s heart. She didn't know why, but for the first time in her life, she felt like she had finally stopped running away. They stood there together in the twilight, two people starting a new life in a very old place, while the ancient tree stood guard over them, its branches finally at rest.

Feedbacks

You’d learned that calm was a carefully built wall.

“Captain Hong,” you replied, “The atmospheric simulations are stable. But once we land, we’ll only have seventy two hours to confirm if THREA-9 is habitable.”

Joshua nodded. “Then we make those hours count.”

There was a pause. A brief and heavy pause.

“Do you think this planet can save us?” Joshua asked.

You hesitated. Scientists and doctors were trained to rely on data, not hope. But lately, hope was all anyone had left.

“I hope so,” you said slowly, “that it’s our last chance.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The launch of AURORA was violent.

Gravity pressed you into your seat as Earth shrank behind. You watched continents blur, oceans dark and unfamiliar. Somewhere down there was everything you’d ever known and everything that had failed.

Joshua’s voice filled the ship, steady as ever.

“Leaving orbit in three… two…”

You closed your eyes before he said one.

“One…”

Weeks into the journey, the ship grew quieter but not empty.

The crew gathered in the command area whenever rations were given, voices low, laughter hesitant but real. Hope was a fragile thing, passed carefully from one person to another.

“Imagine real rain again,” one crew member said, staring at a projection of THEA-9 rotating slowly above the table. “Not some acid or black liquid.”

A pilot scoffed. “I just want to see a sky that doesn’t look like it’s dying.”

“You think there’ll be animals? Insects?” someone else asked.

“If there are,” another replied, smiling softly, “let’s hope they’re kinder than humans.”

You watched from a distance, listening. Joshua stood near the doorway, arms crossed, listening too not as a captain, but as someone who needed to believe just as badly.

“They’re scared,” you said quietly when he stand beside you.

“They should be,” he replied. “But they’re still hoping. That’s enough for now.”

You spent most of your days in the lab, running simulations until numbers blurred together. One evening, Joshua appeared, holding two steaming ration cups.

“I was told this passes for tea,” he said, handing one to you.

You accepted it with a tired smile.

He leaned against the counter, watching data scroll across the screen.

“If this works… what would you do?” he asked. “Not as a scientist. As a person.”

You thought for a moment. “I’d plant something. Just to prove life can start again.”

Joshua nodded slowly. “I think I’d like to wake up without feeling like I’m running out of time.”

Your eyes met, something unspoken settling between you.

One night, the ship trembled just enough to wake everyone.

Alarms blared briefly before stabilizing. The crew gathered, tension thick in the air.

“Micrometeor collision,” Joshua announced calmly. “Minor damage. We’re safe.”

A voice from the back broke. “What if we don’t make it?” Silence followed.

Joshua stepped forward. “Then we’ll have tried. And if we do make it—” He paused, glancing at you. “then everything we’ve lost won’t be for nothing.”

You added softly, “We’re not just carrying equipment. We’re carrying everyone’s future and hope.”

That seemed to steady them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The planet appeared on the main screen a week later.

White. Green. Blue. Alive.

The crew gasped some laughed, some cried openly. Someone whispered, “We’re really here.”

Turbulence shook the ship as AURORA descended, but Joshua’s hands never faltered.

“Landing sequence engaged.”

When the ship finally touched ground, silence fell.

You stepped onto alien soil, scanner in hand, heart racing. The air is breathable. The ground is warm and fertile.

Joshua removed his helmet slowly, as if afraid the moment would disappear.

“We made it,” he whispered.

You looked at him—at the captain who carried a dying world on his shoulders—and realized something terrifying and beautiful.

This planet wasn’t just a mission.

It was the beginning.

Feedbacks🙏

It had started 4 years ago, during a summer storm. Crown prince Jeonghan had found her trembling in the pavilion of the palace library, hiding from the rain. Instead of scolding her, he had draped his robe over her shoulders.

"The rain does not care for rank," he said, his eyes soft. "Why should I?"

Since then, their love had grown in the stolen seconds between duties. The way he would look at her across the palace, his eyes saying everything his lips could not say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tragedy of their love was not that it was forbidden. It was that it was impossible.

"They have chosen a Crown Princess for me,” Jeonghan told her one night in the secret garden. He didn't look like a future King that day. He looked like a man being led to the to the darkest prison.

Y/N bowed her head, her fingers digging into the fabric of her hanbok. "She is the daughter of minister Kim. A good match, Your Highness."

"Do not call me that.” he snapped, his voice trembling. He grabbed her wrists firm but his touch was gentle, like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go. “Tell me to run. Tell me to leave this palace, this name and this blood. If you ask it of me, I will go."

Y/N looked at him. She saw the exhaustion in his shoulders and the duty engraved into his brow. If he left, he would be hunted.

"I am a maid of the palace, Your Highness," she said but her eyes held sadness that her voice refused to say. "And you are the future of Joseon. We are exactly where we are meant to be."

She bowed before he could answer. Before he could reach for her. She walked away with heavy steps leaving her heart behind in the space between them.

Days later.

Late that evening, Jeonghan summoned a maid to bring him tea in his private study. He knew it would be her.

When Y/N entered, she found him sitting in total darkness. She set the tray down, her hands trembling so much the porcelain rattled.

"Is this the end of it?" Jeonghan asked. He sounded lifeless.

"I have been reassigned to the North Palace starting tomorrow," Y/N whispered trying not to break. "I will not be here to serve you anymore or witness the wedding, your highness ."

Jeonghan stood and walked toward her. For a moment, she thought he might take her hand one last time. Instead, he stopped an arm's length away, honoring the distance the world demanded.

"In another life," he said, the tears finally tracking through the powder on his face, "I would have been a professor. And you would have been my wife and I would spent my days learning the lines of your face instead of the laws of this land."

"In another life," Y/N choked out, "I would have looked at you sooner. I wouldn't have been afraid."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jeonghan became a King known for his wisdom and his coldness. He never took a concubine. He walked the palace grounds alone, often stopping by a certain pavilion, looking at the place where the rain used to fall.

Y/N lived out her days in the quiet of the North Palace. She kept a single, faded outer robe hidden at the bottom of her chest. It no longer smelled of sandalwood or dried plums, but when she held it, she could almost hear the voice of a man who once offered to walk away from a kingdom for a ghost.

Feedbacks