#i love the dynamic these two have for this au. they are sisters despite the century that separates them

[justarandomidiot1]

Honorary ancestor and descendant. Or honorary sisters, whichever you prefer

If you've seen this before, that's because I had originally posted this on my main 3 years ago, @someone-online!! I'm just now reuploading these to my art blog since I stopped posting this au publicly. The last image is actually new though, I don’t like how the original looks anymore and would prefer not to reupload that for this lol, so I just redrew it

[smileysuh]

double trouble

🌙 starring. Mingyu & Wonwoo x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. Despite your tense relationship with Seungcheol, you’ve done your best to support him as a sister, and you know his teammates by sight alone. Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu, two Olympians… two sexy, athletic, very fuckable Olympians. You’ve watched Too Hot to Handle and Love Island, you’ve watched Singles Inferno, and you’re not on any of those shows. No, you’re in Thailand for your brother’s wedding, staring at his work besties like they’re your next meal. You know how problematic this is, but you’re yet undecided on just how far you want to go with this. All you know, is you’re alone at a bar, there’s two gorgeous men, and you’re feeling just lonely enough to go talk to them. 

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, threesome, pussy eating, blow job, fingering, masturbation, spit roasting, double penetration, doggy style, missionary, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, pain kink, spanking, spitting, choking, dom!Wonwoo, eager!Mingyu, overstimulation, breast worship, dirty talk, praise, dry humping/grinding, undertones of therapy/childhood sibling rivalry/bad family dynamics, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.9k

🍭 aus. Surfer Meanie au, Destination-Wedding au, my friend’s sister is hot au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I want to start this off by saying, I don’t know much about surfing or the Olympics, but fuck it, this is fanfic, and surfer Meanie is too hot to pass up. 

Prologue:

“And in an astonishing turn of events, Choi Seungcheol, representing South Korea in surfing, wins silver at this year's Olympics! I think we were all shocked when South Korea qualified for not two, but three contenders this year, and what contenders these men have been. We can see Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu watching from the beach, clapping for their teammate… and what’s this? Choi Seungcheol is not approaching his team, no! He’s going for his longtime girlfriend! Love is definitely in the air here today at the Olympics- and… no, is he getting down on one knee? I can not believe my eyes! Choi Seungcheol of team South Korea, who has just won a silver in surfing, is proposing to his girlfriend right here on the beach! What an end to the day for team South Korea!” 

One (Day) 

Wonwoo’s never been a fan of weddings, and he loves destination weddings even less, but he supposes Thailand isn’t the worst place for this sort of event. The waves are good, the climate is perfect, and with the entire wedding party scattered among the massive resort, Wonwoo is confident he’ll be able to slip away and have alone time if need be.

Sure, he’s excited for Seungcheol. They’re teammates, and while the new silver medalist has always kept his work and private life separate, Wonwoo knows supporting his friend at the start of the next chapter of his life is the right thing to do.

Besides, as Wonwoo walks through the resort an hour after arriving, he’s got Mingyu by his side, and they’re both eager to see what the waves here look like. It’s a week-long destination wedding, but Wonwoo’s pretty sure only two of those seven days will be really hard-core in terms of his obligations to the groom.

The resort has a number of amenities, one of which is an entire rack of surfboards, and as the two men approach it, Wonwoo notices you on the beach.

You’re under a shade umbrella, relaxing on a lounge. Unlike many people here, you’re not on your phone or reading a book, you’re simply looking out at the ocean.

It’s as if you must sense his gaze, because your head turns, and your eyes meet.

Wonwoo swallows the lump in his throat, turning his attention back to the boards. 

He’s never been one for one-night stands and is even less enthusiastic about hooking up with some random at a resort in Thailand while he’s there for his friend’s wedding. No, this week is all going to be training, relaxing in his off hours, and supporting Seungcheol, no matter how hot you might be.

One (Night) 

You’ve never been super close with your older brother Seungcheol. You suppose it boils down in part to him being the golden child. He was the athletics prodigy, and now, - surprise, surprise - he’s an Olympic-level silver medalist. Growing up in an environment where your sibling was overtly favored over yourself was difficult, and you spent the majority of your teen years being upset about it.

Through your anger, you found art, and now, you’re a successful entrepreneur. You work for yourself, you work doing what you want and when you want it. You have freedom, and maybe your childhood was a blessing in disguise.

Having gone through years of therapy to unpack this dysfunctional family system, you don’t hold very much anger anymore, and you’re actually kind of happy to be in Thailand to support Seungcheol, who really had no fault in your upbringing. 

However, even with admitting all of this to yourself, you also know you don’t want to spend the entire week attached to your overbearing and judgemental mother’s hip, so here you are, in the late evening after the dinner rush, enjoying a meal all by yourself in the hotel restaurant. 

It’s as you’re finishing your meal that you recognize two men entering the bar. 

Despite your tense relationship with Seungcheol, you’ve done your best to support him as a sister, and you know his teammates by sight alone.

Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu, two Olympians… two sexy, athletic, very fuckable Olympians. 

You’ve watched Too Hot to Handle and Love Island, you’ve watched Singles Inferno, and you’re not on any of those shows. No, you’re in Thailand for your brother’s wedding, staring at his work besties like they’re your next meal. You know how problematic this is, but you’re yet undecided on just how far you want to go with this. All you know, is you’re alone at a bar, there’s two gorgeous men, and you’re feeling just lonely enough to go talk to them. 

Finishing your drink, you stand up, wobbling slightly in your high heels as you set off to join the Olympians at the bar.

You settle next to the larger of the two, Kim Mingyu, taking a seat while his eyes turn to you.

“Hi.” You smile.

“Hi.” He grins back at you, all handsome and puppy-like.

“So you two are the infamous surfers,” you muse. “I’m Seungcheol’s sister, y/n.”

You suppose there’s no use glossing over the fact that you’re related to their friend, after all, they’re going to find out sooner or later.

Honesty has always been the best policy, and as recognition flashes over Mingyu’s features, you realize your brother must have mentioned you to them at least once or twice.

“Wait, you’re Seungcheol’s sister?” Mingyu asks in shock.

“In the flesh,” you laugh, motioning at the bartender for another drink. “What did he say about me?”

“He said you’re some artist,” Wonwoo chimes in, leaning over the bar top to get a better look at you. 

“Some artist,” you scoff. “I sell five-figure art, but if I’m just some artist, then fine.”

“Five figures?” Mingyu turns to exchange a look with Wonwoo. 

“Anything we would know? Are you in galleries?” the more inquisitive of the two asks.

“I’ve actually got an exhibition coming up,” you admit. “Celebrating the new generation of female artists in South Korea.”

“That sounds huge!” Mingyu gasps. 

“In the art scene, it’s a pretty big deal,” you laugh.

“Guess you’re just a family of overachievers,” Wonwoo muses with a smile, waving the bartender over as he gives you your second drink.

“Some fields are more recognized than others,” you sigh, fiddling with your straw.

“I always thought artists were super cool!” Mingyu tells you. “I draw a little, but I’m nowhere near your level, and Wonwoo, well, he can’t even draw a straight line.”

“Hey!” Wonwoo objects, turning his narrow gaze on his friend. 

You watch the two of them fuss together, and you try your best to figure out which one is more attractive, but it’s simply impossible.

They’re both stunning in their own right. Mingyu has those puppy-like, boyish good looks. He’s big and handsome and you can tell he knows it. Wonwoo, in contrast, is quieter, but he’s regal in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. He’s smaller than Mingyu, shorter, but he’s still larger than the average male, and his shoulders aren’t something to complain about either.

“So how did you get into art?” Mingyu asks, turning to look at you again.

“Uh… I think I was left to my own devices a lot as a kid. Seungcheol always had a soccer practice or a football game, and then it was going to the beach all the time- so I had to learn to find something to do with all my time waiting for him to finish up his sports.” You frown a little. Although you’ve learned through therapy to find the silver lining, it can still be hard at times to think back on your upbringing and all the times you were in a state of neglect. “Anyways, how about you guys? Surfing isn’t usually the first Olympic sport people decide to give a go.”

“I lived in Hawaii for a bit when I was a kid,” Mingyu tells you. “Surfing is religion there, and I was lucky to have a lot of mentors who helped me get started.”

“That sounds nice,” you smile. 

“And Wonwoo, well, he was a swimmer first,” Mingyu explains, speaking for his quiet friend.

“I tried surfing one day and never looked back,” Wonwoo finishes. “Nothing spectacular.”

“You can say that, but here we all are, at the top of our game, in Thailand to celebrate an Olympic silver medalist,” you muse, lifting your drink. “I’d say we’re all doing pretty spectacularly.”

“I like the way you think,” Mingyu grins, raising his glass.

Wonwoo says nothing, but he joins you in your cheers, and you all drink together.

“So…” Mingyu takes a deep breath and puts his empty glass down, “how did a guy like Seungcheol get a hot sister like you?”

“Guess all the pretty genes went to me,” you tease, skin heating with pleasure at the compliment.

“I wonder if this is why Seungcheol doesn’t talk about you often,” Wonwoo says quietly.

“What do you mean?” You cock your head to the side.

“I think he’s just saying, like…” Mingyu searches for the right words, “If Seungcheol ever showed his work friends your picture, we’d all… you know, think you’re hot.”

“You two are just trying to butter me up,” you laugh, heart beginning to thump faster in your chest.

Wonwoo leans forward. “Is it working?”

Two (Day) 

It might be his wedding week, but Seungcheol will be damned if he doesn’t spend even a bit of time enjoying Thailand’s ocean.

He’s up early, with Wonwoo and Mingyu beside him as they float on their surfboards after a couple of really good waves. Seungcheol really appreciates his work friends, they’re not as invested in his personal life, so when he’s with them, he can just forget about all the chaos and wedding jitters.

“So… Olympics 2028,” Seungcheol breathes. 

“Los Angeles,” Mingyu agrees with a nod.

Seungcheol looks at his friends. “How are we feeling?” 

“We’re feeling like you should retire and give us a chance,” Wonwoo jokes, flashing one of his rare smiles.

“We’re also feeling like LA waves are going to be insane… and they have sharks,” Mingyu points out.

Seungcheol laughs at his friends. Of course, Wonwoo would be thinking of medals, and Mingyu would be more focused on what could eat him while trying to win big.

“I’m sure they’ll have shark watch or something,” Seungcheol points out.

“Yeah, but Great Whites can attack from below!” Mingyu exclaims. “They’re designed to blend in with water, they’ve got grey coloring on the tops of their bodies so they’re harder to see!”

“Can we not talk about sharks while we’re in the ocean on surfboards?” Wonwoo sighs.

“If it makes you feel better, the only really bad shark in Thailand is the bull shark, no Great Whites,” Seungcheol offers, having done research on the subject before booking the resort for his wedding.

“Bull sharks are still a top three-man eater,” Mingyu frowns, looking down at the water.

“Don’t bull sharks usually attack in shallows?” Wonwoo asks. “Besides, you lived in Hawaii for a while, you’re still terrified of sharks?”

Seungcheol drowns out what his friends are talking about at this point, his gaze shifting to the beach. His eyes land on you, walking on the sand in search of a lounger. 

You must notice he’s seen you because you lift your hand to give him a wave, which Seungcheol returns.

That’s when he notices that his friends have gone quiet. 

“Are you guys done your shark talk?” Seungcheol sighs. “Ready to actually catch some waves?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Mingyu sighs. “So uh… that’s your sister, huh?”

“Yup. Little miss artsy fartsy herself.”

Wonwoo chuckles a little, and Seungcheol doesn’t miss the look he exchanges with Mingyu.

“We met her last night at the bar,” Mingyu explains. “She seems nice.”

“Yeah, she is what she is,” Seungcheol sighs. He doesn’t like to think too hard about family history, about the way he felt like he had to compete with you growing up. Somewhere, deep down in Seungcheol’s soul, he’s always been a winner, and when he was a kid, he hadn’t really realized that winning meant making a loser out of his sibling. There’s regret there, but Seungcheol’s not about to put in the hours that you have with a therapist to unpack all of it.

“There’s not much resemblance between the two of you,” Wonwoo muses.

“Yeah, I got the gene for good looks,” Seungcheol says, trying to make a joke out of it.

Wonwoo laughs. “Debatable.”

A sigh escapes Seungcheol before he can stop it. “Fuck this, let's get some waves. And just so we’re all clear, my sister is off limits.” 

Two (Night) 

Mingyu loves night swimming, and the resort has so many wonderful pools for him to be alone in while he does laps.

He’s sort of falling in love with Thailand. The sounds of animals in all the luscious trees, the warm temperature even now that the sun has gone down- God, he could get used to this.

He finishes up his swim, switching to a relaxed breaststroke to cool down, and that’s when he notices you sitting by the pool. You’re drinking a beer, and you’ve got a second bottle on the ground next to your lounger.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hi,” he laughs. “Are you waiting for me?” 

“Yeah. I saw you swimming, figured I’d get us some beers.” 

Mingyu comes to the side of the pool, grabbing at the ledge and letting out a breath as you hold the second bottle out for him.

“I don’t usually drink after a workout,” he chuckles.

“Well, it would be a shame for me to drink alone,” you tease.

Mingyu can only nod at the statement, lifting the beer to his lips. 

“How was your day?” you ask.

“Pretty good. It started off with your brother, and then we caught some waves. Wonwoo and I went to look at a monastery or something in town today. It was nice.”

“Definitely sounds like a good day in Thailand,” you muse.

“How about you? Up to anything fun?”

“Not really.” You release a deep breath, and Mingyu gets the suspicion that this whole thing isn’t as much of a vacation for you as it is for them. “I’m supposed to be taking the week off, having just finished a whole bunch of work these past few months, but I don’t know, this place is so beautiful, I really wish I had some paint and canvas with me.”

“I’m sure we could find an art supply store or something?” Mingyu offers.

You wave your hand. “It’s okay. Like I said, I’m supposed to be taking the week off.”

“We’re all supposed to be taking the week off,” Mingyu tells you, “but Seungcheol, Wonwoo and I were all catching waves this morning, and I’m sure other people are taking work calls- it’s easy to say we’re here on vacation so we should just put out real lives to the side, but it’s another thing to actually do that, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” You let out a laugh. “Capitalism is a bitch.”

Mingyu considers your words. “I guess capitalism is part of it, but… we all have things we’re good at, things we love to do. I think capitalism sometimes takes the joy out of our hobbies if we’re making money off those hobbies in the real world. We’re surfing to keep our skill level up, but we’re also doing it for ourselves. I’m sure if you got a drawing journal or something and drew for yourself, it wouldn’t be hurting anyone.”

“And here I thought you were just another pretty face,” you muse with a grin, sipping your beer.

“You don’t know me that well yet.”

“We can change that,” you suggest. “Tell me more about you. I’m not stepping on any girlfriend’s toes by chatting with you right now, am I?”

“Nah, I’m single,” Mingyu laughs. 

“And how is an Olympic athlete like you single?”

“Good question.” Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. “I guess… Wonwoo and I are homebodies. We’ve been renting together since university, and we both just… like to stay home.”

“I didn’t know the two of you were roommates.”

“Yeah, it’s not something we talk about too often,” Mingyu chuckles. “Two Olympians living together isn’t the most endearing thing.”

“I think it’s pretty endearing.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s clear the two of you are super close.”

“We are.”

“So… I asked about stepping on any girlfriend’s toes… should I have asked about stepping on a boyfriend’s turf?”

Mingyu’s heart leaps in his chest. “No!” he blurts out. “Wonwoo and I aren’t- I mean… no, we’re not together or anything. We’re super close, but no.”

“You’re saying the word no, but I’m hearing there’s more to the story,” you point out.

“I mean…” Mingyu can’t even meet your eyes. “He and I are both into girls, it’s just- sometimes we’re into the same girl? So, yes, I’ve seen his dick, but we’re also just athletes so that’s part of the gig-”

“Mingyu,” you interrupt him. “Take a breath.”

“Fuck.” Mingyu takes a breath as well as a sip of beer. “You think I’m super weird now.”

“Not at all. You’re not the first athletes to admit to sharing girls. I hear it’s a pretty common thing actually.”

“It is?” Mingyu asks in shock.

“Apparently,” you shrug. “Look up puck bunny confessionals and all sorts of girls will tell you that they’ve been tag-teamed at hockey events, and that’s just hockey.” 

Mingyu’s too shy to ask for more details, and he doesn’t even know what a ‘puck bunny’ is, so he decides to switch topics as fast as he can. “Do you uh… have plans for tomorrow?” 

You lean back in the lounger. “Was considering going on a snorkeling thing in the morning. The resort offers tours. But… I didn’t really want to go alone. Fancy a snorkeling adventure with me tomorrow?” 

“As long as we don’t talk about puck rabbits and double trouble athlete tag teams,” Mingyu chuckles nervously.

You grin. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Three (Day) 

Wonwoo hadn’t been super excited when Mingyu convinced him to go snorkeling with you, but now that you’re all on the boat, he realizes it’s not the worst thing in the world.

“This alcove is well known for its whale sharks,” the tour guide says. “I know what you’re all thinking, sharks! Oh no! But rest assured, whale sharks are completely harmless to humans. I got a tip from one of my fishing friends that there’s a whale shark here today, how do we feel about getting in the water?”

Wonwoo looks at Mingyu immediately, and the larger Olympian doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about the prospect of diving with sharks.

“Let’s do it!” you say, surprising both men as you stand up.

The guide is as enthusiastic about it as you are, and soon the two of you are getting into the water while Mingyu and Wonwoo wait on the boat.

“She’s quite adventurous, isn’t she?” the captain of the small vessel asks.

“It would appear that way,” Wonwoo sighs.

“She a friend of yours?”

“We’re friends with her brother, he’s here for his wedding, at the resort,” Mingyu explains.

“Ah, I see. You’re both being good friends making sure his sister is okay while he gets ready for his wedding,” the captain nods.

“We’re not taking very good care of her from here,” Wonwoo frowns.

The captain looks out at the water, letting out a breath. “I assure you, whale sharks are perfectly safe.”

“Fuck it.” Wonwoo strips his shirt off, grabbing a snorkel and some goggles.

“Seriously?” Mingyu asks in shock.

“They’re harmless,” Wonwoo points out. “We’ll regret it if we don’t go in.”

Mingyu sighs, but he nods, agreeing with Wonwoo.

They both get ready, and then, they slowly lower themselves into the warm water.

For someone who spends so much time on the water, Wonwoo doesn’t spend a lot of time looking in the water. He’s immediately taken by the beauty of everything, the fish, the reefs- and he can see you and the guide in the distance next to a massive shape.

Giving a nod to Mingyu, the two of them begin to swim over to you. Wonwoo can feel his heart beginning to thump wildly in his chest at the sight of the whale shark.

He keeps telling himself that the shark is harmless, but it’s hard to keep even breathing when you’re next to such a massive animal.

Taking his eyes off the whale shark, Wonwoo turns his attention to you.

You look so happy, and fearless. It’s as if this is the first time Wonwoo’s seeing you in your element. Your walls aren’t up, it’s not all family politics and saving face- no, you’re being completely yourself, and it’s a beautiful sight.

The three of you all surface, and Mingyu immediately starts gushing to you about how amazing this whole thing is.

The both of you are like two peas in a pod, and Wonwoo, who has a harder time joining conversations, decides to stay out of it.

He simply watches, noting how good you and Mingyu look together… which kind of sucks, since Mingyu always gets the girls.

Wonwoo wants someone too, he wants someone fun, someone who brings out the wild side in himself- but he knows his greatest failing is being shy.

He was the odd kid in high school, a nerd- but at the same time, he was an athlete who no one would guess to be athletic just by looking at him. 

Wonwoo still finds himself stuck in this limbo place at times. He knows who he is inside. He knows he’s a good person, with values. He knows he’s good at his sport. But he just can’t find it within himself to be the most social person, and sometimes, like now, that fact comes back to bite him in the ass.

Three (Night) 

You hadn’t expected Seungcheol to ask you to come get post-dinner drinks with him, and you reluctantly walk up to the bar to meet your brother. “Hey, Cheol.”

“Hey. Didn’t see you all day.” 

“I went snorkeling, saw a whale shark, it was super cool,” you smile.

“Didn’t see Mingyu or Wonwoo all day either.”

“They came with me,” you sigh. “I didn’t want to go alone.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Seungcheol looks down at his drink. “So… you trying to steal my friends now?”

“What?”

“They’re my friends, and you also can’t have both of them.”

You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “Cheol, we’re on vacation-”

“Yeah, but when I go home, these aren’t just some randoms. These are my friends, the guys I see all the time. This isn’t some innocent ‘hey I’m flirting with two guys at a resort, sort of thing,’ and we both know it.”

“Even if I was flirting with both of them, which I won’t admit to, it’s the twenty-first century, I’m pretty sure people are allowed to date more than one person.”

“You won’t admit to it, but you think it’s okay to date both of them,” your brother counters.

“Look, I thought you invited me for a drink, not an interrogation.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Seungcheol defends himself. “We’re here in Thailand, I’m getting married- and you’re considering dating two of my friends. What if you want to get married one day, what then?” 

“Then I get married?”

Seungcheol lets out a groan. “But if you’re dating two guys-”

“Like I said, I’m on vacation.”

“So you’re not thinking long-term with Wonwoo or Mingyu?”

“I just met them!” 

“Okay, so we’re in agreement, no dating Wonwoo or Mingyu.”

“Seungcheol.” You shake your head, already exhausted with this conversation. 

“What?”

“I’m so tired.”

“Hitting on two men will do that to you.”

“I’m going back to my room,” you decide. “And just so you know, I’m an artist. I’m not exactly a traditionalist the way you are, and what I choose to do with my love life is my business.” 

Four (Day) 

Today isn’t going exactly the way Seungcheol had planned. He’d woken up with this sinking feeling after his discussion with you last night, and he’d decided then and there to get Mingyu and Wonwoo away from the resort for the day.

So here he is, clambering up a mountain on a hiking trail with his workmates, and Seungcheol can’t find the words to converse with the two men who have seemingly been hitting on you.

Wonwoo and Mingyu always find a way to chat though, and Seungcheol listens to them behind him as he forges the way up the mountain.

“Oh, Seungcheol! Did we mention we went snorkeling with your sister yesterday?” Mingyu asks.

“I heard about that,” Seungcheol sighs.

“Did you talk to y/n?” Mingyu questions.

“Yeah, she told me there was a whale shark or something?”

“It was the coolest thing ever!” the puppylike surfer exclaims. “It was the biggest animal I’ve ever seen!”

“We couldn’t let your sister go off on some boat with strangers alone,” Wonwoo says bluntly. “And we knew you were busy with wedding stuff, so we figured we’d tag along with her.” 

Seungcheol doesn’t even know what to say.

Logically, it makes sense that Wonwoo and Mingyu would go with you to make sure you were safe- but Seungcheol can’t help this sinking feeling that they’re the men he should be worried about you being around.

Not that Wonwoo or Mingyu would ever do anything bad to you- perhaps Seungcheol worries about your man-eating ways.

Mingyu had been terrified of ‘man-eating sharks,’ but he’s ignoring the clearest danger; you. 

Seungcheol has seen the way you date. Flings here and there. You capture men with your mysterious artist allure, and they fall head over heels for you, only for you to leave them on the curb with a new muse for your canvas. 

He doesn't want Mingyu and Wonwoo to be just another inspiration for emotional painting in your next art installation. 

But how does he even say that to them? How does he tell Mingyu and Wonwoo that you’re practically a love witch, who has very little care for the men you toy with?

Seungcheol bites his tongue. Maybe this is just a lesson they have to learn. But fuck, at what cost?

Four (Night) 

“So…” Mingyu sighs, sitting on his bed as he stares at Wonwoo on his own mattress. “Cheol is onto us.”

“Huh?” Wonwoo looks up from his phone. 

“Seungcheol was being so weird today on that hike, and he was even weirder when we talked about his sister. I think he’s onto us.”

“Onto us about what?”

Mingyu lets out another deep breath. “About us both being into y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“Come on, it’s the elephant in the room.” Mingyu rolls his eyes with exasperation. “We haven’t talked about it, but we both know what’s happening. It’s not the first time.” 

“It’s the first time the girl we’re into has been a friend’s sister,” Wonwoo points out. “Of course, Seungcheol is weird about it.”

Mingyu lays down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “I really like her.”

“You really like every girl who’s cute, a little artsy, and up for adventure.”

“As if you’re not into the same thing,” Mingyu scoffs.

“Never said I wasn’t.”

Mingyu turns to look at Wonwoo, who is back to staring at his phone. It looks as if he’s given up on this whole thing, and Mingyu’s not quite sure what to make of it. “So… are you like… not going to try anything because she’s Seungcheol’s sister, or…?”

“It’s probably best if we keep her off limits.”

“Where’s the fun in that!? We wouldn’t be the first sports friends to tag team a girl!” Mingyu points out, thinking back to the discussion the two of you had about puck bunnies, which he has since looked up.

“We’re not going to tag team Seungcheol’s sister,” Wonwoo states, but he doesn’t sound too convinced, and neither is Mingyu.

Five (Day) 

The close wedding party is doing a wedding rehearsal today, and Mingyu’s kind of shocked to run into you at the pool bar before dinner. He hadn’t expected to see any of the Chois today, and it’s a welcome surprise as he comes to sit with you.

“Hey,” he smiles.

“Hey yourself,” you grin, turning in your seat to get a better look at him. 

“How's the rehearsal going?”

You take a deep breath. “As you’d expect it to. Lots and lots of details.”

“And you’re here… having a drink.”

“I don’t have a speech, so it’s not like I needed guiding on anything for this hour of the rehearsal,” you muse.

“No speech?” Mingyu can’t hide his surprise. “But you’re the sister of the groom! And you’re an artist!”

“I'm guessing Seungcheol doesn’t want me taking any… artistic liberties if you know what I mean,” you laugh. 

“Artistic liberties like…?”

“You know,” you flip your hair over your shoulder, “talking about the time he used a straw to spit boba pearls in my hair when I was seven and told me they were fish eyes, and how he used to be so immature, now he’s a man, and slightly more adult. That I’m so happy his wife found him because he’s always needed a Mommy’s approval and that’s exactly what she gives him. That sort of thing.”

“Ouch,” Mingyu lets out a whistle. “Definitely wouldn’t want that in a speech at my wedding.”

“Exactly, which is why I’m here, getting my… third drink in the past hour? Just want this whole night to be over.”

“Are you happy for Seungcheol at least?”

“Of course, I’m happy for him, he found a woman to put up with his bullshit.” You shake your head, releasing another sigh. “I am happy for him, I am. Just… family events make me a little neurotic.” 

“I guess that’s understandable.”

“It doesn’t help that the one meaningful conversation I’ve had with Cheol since I got here was him warning me not to be a whore who sleeps around with his friends.”

“Huh?” Mingyu freezes.

“He didn’t use those exact words, per se, but, the general connotation was he’ll think I’m a whore if I’m interested in two people at once. I think he forgets about the time in high school when he was stringing along two girls at the same time. At the start of relationships, there’s often overlap, and I think he’s been with his fiancee so long that he forgets about that.” 

“It’s also… you know, the twenty-first century.”

“That’s what I said!” you laugh, reaching out to push Mingyu’s shoulder. “It’s the time of sexual liberation, of threesomes and polyamory and whole planned orgy events in speakeasies.” 

“I don’t know what a speakeasy is.”

“That’s okay, hot shot,” you grin. “I could always take you to one sometime.”

“Yeah?”

“If Seungcheol doesn’t forbid me completely from being interested in you, I’d love to maybe go out once we’re all back in the city.”

“What about Wonwoo?”

“He can come too,” you say lazily, waving your hand, and it’s clear at that moment that you’re a little tipsy. 

“So… you’re interested in two guys.”

“And you both seem to be okay with it,” you point out.

“We are,” Mingyu states, deciding to speak for Wonwoo. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I knew it!” 

Five (Night) 

The rehearsal is finally done, and you can’t get Mingyu out of your head. You find yourself stumbling to his room, and it’s only when you knock and Wonwoo answers, that you remember the two of them are shacking up together.

“Oh,” you blink at the tall, stoic man.

“Hi.”

“I’m uh… looking for Mingyu.”

“He’s probably doing laps at the pool,” Wonwoo tells you, leaning against the door frame. “I could walk you down there, or you could wait here till he comes back.”

“I…” You swallow thickly, too drunk to make decisions.

“Looks like you need some water,” Wonwoo muses, looking you up and down. “Come in.”

He pushes the door wider for you, and you stumble into the room, collapsing onto one of the sofa chairs. Wonwoo grabs a bottle of water for you from the small mini fridge, handing it over.

“Looks like the rehearsal was a shit show,” he chuckles.

“All family events are shit shows,” you sigh, taking a huge gulp of water. 

“So… you and Mingyu.”

“What about me and Mingyu?” You narrow your eyes at the pretty man.

Wonwoo shrugs, laughing to himself. “I guess I’m just not surprised.”

“Is he usually the one who gets the girls?” 

You can tell from the way Wonwoo sighs and leans back that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“He’s just more of an extrovert,” Wonwoo says diplomatically. “Girls are into that.”

“Quiet types can be hot,” you point out. “I don’t have a preference one way or the other.”

Wonwoo meets your gaze, and you can feel him trying to assess you, to assess this situation that you’ve brought to his door.

You’re horny when you’re drunk, and you didn’t bring any sex toys on vacation, so it’s safe to say you’re wound up. 

“Mingyu told me that Seungcheol had a chat with you about the two of us.”

“He did?” you ask in shock.

“There’s not much Mingyu doesn’t tell me.” 

“And this is why I thought maybe the two of you were a couple!”

Wonwoo shakes his head at you, but there’s a smile brewing on the corners of his lips. “Have some more water.”

You roll your eyes at him but you do as you’re told. “So… Mingyu told me you’d be okay with me liking both of you, was he right?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Wonwoo sighs.

“That’s what Mingyu said!” you bellow. “We’re all on the exact same page!”

“It would look that way.”

“So…” you swallow thickly. “Threesome in Thailand?”

Wonwoo laughs, and you love the way he looks when he’s smiling. He’s so pretty, and the entire mysterious, stoic facade falls away.

“Not when you’re drunk.”

“Give me like… half an hour and this whole bottle of water and I’ll be good, I promise!” you insist.

“Not tonight,” Wonwoo says again. “In fact, I think I should probably walk you back to your room right about now.”

“Boring!” you whine. 

“Boring, but the right thing to do.”

Wonwoo stands up, and he holds out a hand to you. You accept his offer, allowing him to pull you to your feet. You continue to whine as he escorts you across the resort to your own room, and when you get there, you pout out your lower lip.

“This is going to happen,” you tell him. 

“Sure it is,” Wonwoo laughs, using your keycard to open your room. “Goodnight.”

“Do I not get a little kiss?”

Wonwoo sighs, and then he leans in… only for his lips to brush past your cheek. “Get some sleep,” he tells you. “And tomorrow, after the wedding, we’ll all sort this out.” 

Six (Day) 

Wonwoo can’t stop staring at you. He’d thought you’d been pretty last night, but today, in your full wedding outfit, you’re an absolute vision.

He can’t get you out of his head, can’t get the thought of you asking for a kiss off of his mind.

He’d done the right thing by denying you, he knows that, but fuck- he’s wishing he wasn’t so good of a man.

You’re stunning, even prettier than the bride by Wonwoo’s account. 

Despite the differences between you and your brother, you’re awfully good at acting as if everything is alright, as if you weren’t drunk last night. You look like the perfect sister, the Choi family a vision of greatness. 

It’s obvious to Wonwoo, as it’s obvious to Mingyu, that sometime soon, you’ll be bedding them both.

It’s been a while since Wonwoo and Mingyu shared anyone, but Wonwoo’s sure the two of them will work the dynamic out.

The only thing he’s unsure about is what comes after.

You’re Seungcheol’s sister, which means, you’re going to be in similar circles for as long as Seungcheol is still in the sport- maybe even after.

Is one night of fun worth the tension on his relationship with Seungcheol?

If Wonwoo cops out, letting Mingyu get all the fun - because Mingyu is very unlikely to back out of this supposed arrangement - will Wonwoo regret it?

Is there a future here with you? Does Wonwoo know you well enough to take the chance?

He’s very distracted for the entire wedding, but Wonwoo can’t help himself.

You’re a risk, and Wonwoo’s never been one to dabble with those- but, something deep inside of him, is telling him you might just be worth it. 

Six (Night) 

It’s supposed to be the happiest day of Seungcheol’s life, but he can’t help the annoyance that fills him as he watches you and Mingyu dance together at the reception.

Seungcheol is tapping his fingers, considering intervening- when a soft hand places itself on his own.

“Cheol?” his new wife, Sumi, says, drawing his attention. 

“Yes?”

“Stop staring.”

Seungcheol had brought the situation up with Sumi a number of times this trip, and it’s clear she’s aware of what’s making him so irate. 

“Can they be any more obvious?” Seungcheol groans.

“They’re just having fun.”

“Too much fun.”

Now it’s Sumi’s turn to sigh. “Seungcheol. Is this really going to be our first argument as man and wife?”

Seungcheol pauses.

“This is your sister we’re talking about. I understand you being protective, of her and your friends, but we know how y/n is. This isn’t going to be anything serious. Let her have her fun, and try not to think about it too deeply.” 

“How am I supposed to train with these guys knowing they slept with my sister?” Seungcheol counters. 

“If you don’t ask for confirmation that it happened, you never have to know,” Sumi says simply. “Just, don’t think about it.”

Seungcheol releases a deep breath. He’s not about to argue with his wife, but the whole situation is still very frustrating. 

“For all we know, nothing will happen,” Sumi continues. “Just think about that.”

Seven (Day) 

Wonwoo is at his breaking point. Lounging by the pool with Mingyu, watching you swim- watching the water glitter along your body as you move fluidly through the water-

“Fuck me,” Mingyu groans, sipping his beer. “I think I’m going to have to sit here for a while.”

“Huh?”

That’s when Wonwoo turns to realize Mingyu is stiff as a rock in his shorts, using a lounger pillow to cover himself awkwardly. 

Wonwoo can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Really dude?”

“I’m pent up!” Mingyu defends himself. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Wonwoo points out. “Maybe it’s best for everyone if we behave.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Okay mister half-cocked.” 

Wonwoo looks down immediately, realizing he’s now also sporting a half-chub. 

“Fuck.” Wonwoo grabs a pillow from the lounger beside him, placing it on his lap like Mingyu. 

“You know, it’s not even just about her being hot,” Mingyu says. “She’s an interesting person. She’s fun and artsy, and there’s emotional depth to her too.”

“I’ve never heard you say the words ‘emotional’ and ‘depth’ together in a sentence,” Wonwoo chuckles.

“Yeah, well, y/n has me thinking about big things.”

Seven (Night) 

You head to the bar after dinner with one goal in mind; getting the two hot Olympians into your bed. You’d seen them ogling you at the pool earlier, and after toying with the notion of not sleeping with Mingyu and Wonwoo, you’ve decided the opportunity is too good to pass up.

Mingyu and Wonwoo aren’t hard to find, they’re seated at the bar, thick as thieves. All it takes is approaching them to get their attention.

“Hey, y/n,” Mingyu smiles, looking you up and down. 

“Hey yourself, big guy,” you grin.

“Want to join us for a drink?” Wonwoo asks, already waving down the bartender for you.

“Actually, I was thinking maybe you two would want to get three bottles of beer and come to my room to check out my view.”

Mingyu swallows a noticeable lump in his throat. “Your view?”

“You know, my room is west-facing, and the sunset is gorgeous there, but you guys better hurry to decide or we might miss it.” You love teasing with them, and you love the way they both stumble quickly from their chairs even more.

Wonwoo says something to the bartender, and in five seconds flat, he’s holding three beers, intent to follow you to your room.

The walk is quiet, with tensions running high, but you think this is all part of the foreplay.

You have the power, and it’s absolutely dizzying.

The moment the door to your room closes behind the two men, you know you have them, completely, and it’s a wonderful thought.

“Here,” Wonwoo says, holding out a beer for you.

“Thank you.” You walk forward, toward your deck, sliding open the glass door to look out at the setting sun as it traces beautiful reds and purples along the ocean. “Told you the view was amazing.”

“It is,” Mingyu breathes, and when you turn, you find him staring at you.

“So…” You put your beer down on the outside table. “Are we doing this, or what?”

Wonwoo exchanges a look with Mingyu, and although you’re certain they’ve made up their minds, you’re also pretty sure it’s Wonwoo who has the most reservations about this whole thing.

“Look, what happens in Thailand stays in Thailand,” you muse. “Seungcheol never has to know.”

“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” Mingyu notes, looking at his friend.

Wonwoo lets out a sigh. “Fuck it.”

“Fuck it,” you repeat with a grin, joining the men in your room while shutting the door to the deck behind you. “Look, as artsy as I am, I’ve never had a threesome,” you explain. “So… I think I want you both to take the lead.”

“We can do that,” Mingyu nods, setting his beer down. 

“And if anything feels wrong, just say something,” Wonwoo agrees, also discarding his drink.

“Okay.”

You look between the men, and shockingly, it’s Wonwoo who moves first. He steps close to you, his hands reaching for your hips. “So… what do you like?”

“What do I like?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He leans closer, his lips ghosting past your throat, sending a shiver through your form as his mouth moves to your ear. “What do you like?” 

“Um…” You swallow thickly, already feeling as if you’re in a daze. “I guess, I’m good with rough.”

“Rough?” He nips at your ear lobe and it takes everything in you not to moan from the sensation. 

“Like… spanking, choking, manhandling-” You feel like you’re rambling already. 

“What else?”

“Clit stuff? I can’t cum without someone rubbing my clit, so, that’s pretty important.”

“Most girls can’t cum without clit stuff,” Wonwoo tells you. “So don’t worry too much about that.”

“What do you not like?” Mingyu asks.

“Well, I’ve never tried anal, and I’m not going to try it today,” you blurt out, causing both men to chuckle.

“Neither of us expected that,” Wonwoo muses. 

“Okay, good.” You feel like a weight has been lifted, part of you had been worried anal would be a natural stepping stone for a threesome, but these Olympians seem very devoted to making the experience a good one for you, something new but familiar, still within your area of interest.

“Come on.” Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, grabbing your hand to guide you to the bed. “Mingyu has zero patience, he was hard today just watching you in the pool, so you probably shouldn’t tease him for much longer.”

“I wasn’t the only one who was hard,” Mingyu snaps, and you look between the men. They’d really been hard just from watching you today? You’d had no idea how deep their interest in you has truly run, and it makes confidence flow through you. 

Mingyu takes a seat on the bed, and Wonwoo guides you between his friend's open knees.

Your hands find the larger man’s shoulders, and he looks up at you adoringly. He grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you closer. 

It only feels natural to get on top of Mingyu, straddling him as your lips meet for the first time.

He lets you control the pace at first, kissing you gently as one hand cups your cheek, his other pressing to the small of your back to help you get seated on him.

Soon, however, Mingyu is getting more and more eager, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip as he moans. 

You can feel yourself getting hotter by the second, and you allow the man entry to your mouth, grinding down against him as you make out.

He’s already hard in his board shorts, and that knowledge prompts you to hurry with undressing him. You start with his button-up shirt, working your way to open it up before you can push it from his shoulders.

Mingyu groans louder, allowing you to strip his torso, and then your hands begin to explore his muscular body.

His own hands begin to massage you, both of them moving to your ass, teasing you through your dress. Then, his fingers slip under the fabric, moving up in an effort to get you undressed as well.

Before you know it, you’re both halfway to nudity, with you in only a bikini, and Mingyu in his board shorts. 

Then, Mingyu is rolling you onto your back, his kisses descending to your throat, then your breasts-

You can only moan and writhe against the sheets, loving the way his mouth toys over your pussy, his tongue licking at you through your bikini bottoms.

“Take them off,” you tell him, lifting your hips to aid Mingyu.

The bed dips next to you, and you turn to see Wonwoo. “Can I take off your bikini top too?” he asks.

“Yes, please.” You swallow thickly as the two men get you fully naked for them, and it feels amazing to be bare for them both.

Mingyu immediately grabs your thighs, pressing his mouth to your core while Wonwoo begins to massage your breasts, his thumb grazing past your nipple deliciously.

You haven’t had someone eat you out in a while, and the feeling of a tongue lapping at your clit has you crying out. Your hand flies to Wonwoo’s thigh, squeezing him while he chuckles down at you.

“That good, huh?”

“So good,” you whimper. 

He pinches your nipple, and you cry out louder.

“Is this the type of pain you like?” he asks.

“Mmmm,” you moan, nodding. “Feels amazing.”

Wonwoo leans down over you, letting go of your breast to grasp your jaw.

You can’t help yourself, you lift your head a little, eager for his lips.

He gives you what you want, pressing his mouth to yours for the first time.

He’s a lot more calculated than Mingyu had been, controlled even. There’s something so sexy about a man who knows how to keep an even pace, and it has you moaning against his lips while Mingyu continues to eat you out as if his life depends on it.

It’s Wonwoo who decides when to deepen the kiss, and you grab at his shoulders, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

This feels amazing- two mouths on you at once, worshipping your body.

Wonwoo’s hand slips down to your breast, pinching your nipple and making you cry out even more, your thighs quaking around Mingyu’s head-

Then, Wonwoo breaks the kiss, sitting up again to look down at you.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, noticing the tent in his pants. “Please?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Wonwoo shifts a little, pulling his shorts down just enough for you to wrap your hand around his cock.

He’s big, bigger than you’d expected-

“Needs lube,” Wonwoo tells you, pulling your hand away from him. “Your spit or mine?”

“Yours,” you breathe.

Wonwoo chuckles, then he leans over you again, grabbing your jaw and prompting you to open your mouth.

When you stick out your tongue, he spits into your mouth. 

“Now, onto your hand,” he instructs.

Fuck. There’s something so dirty about what he just did- spitting into your mouth, getting you to spit into your hand-

You’ve never been one for spitting, but if Wonwoo’s the one doing it? Fuck it, your mouth is wide open.

You spit onto your palm, bringing it to his cock.

The lubrication makes stroking him easier, and you do your best to focus on both men.

It’s a repetitive motion with Wonwoo’s cock, and it makes it easy for you to lose yourself in the feeling of Mingyu, who suddenly pushes two digits into your wet hole, making you moan even louder.

“Looks like he wants you to cum,” Wonwoo muses.

“I can do that,” you nod, whimpering again when Mingyu sucks roughly on your clit.

He’s pumping his fingers expertly, hitting your G-spot while your pussy loudly squelches around him, betraying how wet and turned on you are. 

“Come on, gorgeous,” Wonwoo encourages you, pinching your nipple again and making you moan louder. “Mingyu’s been good for you, hasn’t he?”

“So good,” you whimper, closing your eyes and giving in to the sensations.

“Then cum for us,” Wonwoo tells you, tweaking your nipple again-

The pleasurable pain is enough to send you over the edge, your core clamping down tight on Mingyu’s fingers, your thighs trying to close around his head while he continues to suck roughly on your pulsating clit-

The ecstasy of your orgasm is flooding through you like a tidal wave, taking over every inch of your body and making you delirious. 

You’re a gasping mess, but two sets of hands keep you steady, working you through your orgasm until you feel a tear in your eye from oversensitivity.

“Okay, Gyu,” Wonwoo sighs. “I think she’s had enough of your mouth.”

Mingyu lets out an audible whine, but he pulls away from your pussy. You can practically hear him lick his lips, then his fingers. 

“You tasted like magic, baby,” Mingyu tells you, and you open your eyes to see him standing up, pushing his board shorts down to reveal an even bigger cock than Wonwoo’s.

“Do we need condoms?” Wonwoo asks.

“No, I’m protected, unless you guys-”

“We’re clean,” Mingyu tells you, looking down at your pussy. 

“You sure about this?” Wonwoo questions, stopping your hand on his cock so you can give him your full attention.

“Yeah, want you guys to cum inside of me,” you whimper.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Mingyu laughs, dragging you to the edge of the bed. He rubs the tip of his length up and down your slit. “Ready, baby?”

“Yeah, fuck me,” you nod, picking up where you left off with Wonwoo’s cock, which you begin to stroke even faster.

Mingyu pushes an inch into you, letting your body adjust to his girth. You groan loudly, turning your head and looking at Wonwoo.

“Can I suck you off while he fucks me?” you ask. 

“Are you sure you can manage both of us at once?” 

“I’ll do my best,” you promise.

Your honesty must be amusing to Wonwoo because he laughs. “Okay, gorgeous. But I’m not going to have you lying down like this, we’re going to do this right and spit roast you.”

“Spit roast?” You blink.

“Just trust us,” Wonwo says, pulling away from you to stand up. You watch him get undressed, and Mingyu takes the opportunity to sink even deeper into your core, making you both groan.

“Do we have to spitroast?” Mingyu asks.

“It’s the only way that makes sense for her,” Wonwoo explains.

“Yeah but, I’d have to pull out, and flip her onto her hands and knees, and I don’t want to be out of this perfect pussy for even a second.” Gosh, Mingyu’s so whiney, it’s kind of adorable.

“Well, power through, champ,” Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head at his friend.

“Fuck, fine.”

In one quick motion, Mingyu pulls out of your core and flips you over. His hands grasp your hips, pulling you up into doggy before guiding his cock back into your wet hole.

It seriously only took a second, and you’re groaning from the sensation of being filled again.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wonwoo asks.

“It almost killed me,” Mingyu says dramatically.

Wonwoo gets onto the bed in front of you, and you push up onto your hands, looking up at him.

Wonwoo strokes your hair. “Sure you’re ready for this?” 

“Why do a threesome if you’re not going to try double penetration of some kind?” you counter.

“Little miss overachiever here,” Wonwoo chuckles affectionately.

“This pussy feels so good,” Mingyu groans behind you, landing a gentle smack to your ass that has you whimpering loudly.

“Let's see how your mouth feels.”

Wonwoo grabs the base of his cock, holding his length up for you. You eagerly move forward, wrapping your mouth around the tip.

It’s hard to move forward and get more of him in your mouth with Mingyu fucking you gently, but as his pace increases, his thrusts getting rougher, it gives you more leeway to sink onto Wonwoo’s cock.

You suck him eagerly, closing your eyes and enjoying the double-stuffed feeling.

“You’re definitely an overachiever,” Wonwoo groans, beginning to move his hips a little to meet your motions, making it easier for you. “Sucking me so good.” 

You groan around him, loving the praise.

Wonwoo had struck you as so shy when you met him- but it’s always the quiet types who are the dirtiest fucks with the most sinful mouths.

You love having both of them. Mingyu, who’s so enraptured by you that all he can manage are moans and whimpers, and Wonwoo, who’s controlled enough to praise you and keep a handle on the entire situation.

They balance each other out very well, and this whole thing feels like heaven. 

Mingyu is fucking you roughly now, and there’s something so oddly sexy about the force of his balls against your clit with each thrust- these men have you cock drunk, have you thinking about shit that’s never even crossed your mind before.

Another gentle smack against your ass has you moaning lewdly around Wonwoo’s cock, and pain blossoms across your skin deliciously.

“You get so tight when I spank you,” Mingyu groans.

“Then keep spanking her,” Wonwoo suggests.

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

“She said she likes it rough, I doubt it will be an issue.”

God, you love a man who listens, a man who takes note of your kinks. With your mouth full, you can’t exactly advocate for yourself, but you don’t have to, Wonwoo will do it for you. 

Another smack has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your pussy clenching tightly around the large intrusion.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, landing another smack.

The man behind you has slowed his thrusts now, too focused on spanking you to be cohesive, but Wonwoo takes the opportunity to fuck your face harder.

If he’d tried this when Mingyu was going wild, he would have risked making you choke on his cock, but now, he’s in control, and you love the way he dominates your mouth. 

You do your best to suck Wonwoo well, and the groans that begin to tumble from his lips are affirmation enough that you’re doing your job.

Mingyu’s finished with the spanking, and one of his hands slips around your body, fingers finding your clit.

“Want you to cum on my cock,” Mingyu tells you.

You moan a confirmation sound, and Mingyu begins to slowly fuck you again, rubbing your still sensitive clit harshly.

Wonwoo abruptly pulls out of your mouth, and you look up at him in confusion. “Want to watch you come undone for us,” Wonwoo tells you, his fist now wrapped around his length.

You watch him pump his cock, and fuck- it looks so good.

There’s a lump in your throat, and you swallow it thickly, overwhelmed by everything in the best possible way.

“Fuck,” you whimper, closing your eyes-

“Look at me,” Wonwoo instructs. 

It’s hard to do as he commands, but you do as you’re told, gazing up at him.

He continues to pump his cock, one hand in your hair to keep your neck arched so your eyes are on him.

Mingyu’s beginning to groan behind you again and the sounds turn you on even more.

You can feel the coil building in the pit of your stomach, and the whimpers escaping you are notice enough that you’re getting close.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Wonwoo groans. “Cum for him, then you get to cum for me.”

God, his words are perfection, and the tension builds even more-

Mingyu rubs your clit harder, and you whimper loudly, hands beginning to shake as you hold yourself up.

“Fuck her harder,” Wonwoo instructs. “She’s close.”

Mingyu does as he’s told, and the roughness is all you need, a moment later, you’re gasping loudly, your core clamping down on Mingyu’s cock, clit throbbing deliciously.

“Fuck!” Mingyu groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he begins to fill you up with his cum. 

His hands are rough on your hips, but you love it, love the way you can feel his cock pulsing as he shoots deep inside of you. 

When Mingyu finally finishes, you can feel his breath against your shoulders, and there’s something erotic about that too.

“Still ready for more?” Wonwoo asks, stroking your cheek.

“Yeah, want your cum too,” you tell him.

Mingyu chuckles, pulling out of you with a grunt.

He gets off the bed, moving to the bathroom, and leaving you alone with Wonwoo.

“Do you want to be on top?” Wonwoo questions.

“I’m tired,” you whine.

The man above you laughs. “Then I’ll do all the work, get onto your back.”

You do as you’re told, releasing a sigh of relief as you lay down on the bed. Wonwoo gets between your thighs. “Mingyu always makes such a mess,” he tuts. “We’ll have to clean you up after this.”

As much as he’s made a remark about Mingyu’s cum, the substance doesn’t seem to bother Wonwoo, who immediately drags the tip of his cock across your pussy lips, pushing in gently.

You groan, reaching up to grab Wonwoo’s shoulders. You tug him down on top of you, threading your fingers through his hair as you press your lips to his own.

Wonwoo kisses you back, beginning to thrust as he does so.

Mingyu is girthier, but Wonwoo is longer, and the tip of his cock hits deep inside of you, making you moan immediately.

Now that he’s inside of you, it’s clear Wonwoo’s not as much of a talker. He gives you his entire focus, his lips not leaving yours as he works you open, finding the perfect pace.

You know he wants you to cum with him, and you’d bet that he’s close after the blow job you gave him, so you sneak your hand between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit.

You’re super sensitive after two orgasms, and you can feel your pussy clench desperately from the stimulus. 

Wonwoo groans against your lips, adjusting so he can wrap one hand around your throat. He doesn’t apply a lot of pressure, just enough to make your body tingle with delight.

There’s something so erotic about knowing this man is stronger than you, knowing he could easily hurt you- but he won’t. He’s giving in to your desires, your kinks, in an effort to make this sex as good as possible for you.

A little more pressure has you whining, and Wonwoo breaks the kiss to look down at you. “Good?”

You whimper, nodding. “Good!”

His lips attack yours again, but there’s more ferocity this time, and as you rub your clit as roughly as you can stand, you know you won’t be able to hold out very long like this. 

The bed dips next to you and you know Mingyu has returned, but Wonwoo doesn’t break the kiss to allow you to give his friend any attention.

Mingyu’s hand glides up your arm, and he’s able to push it between your chest and Wonwoo’s, fingers pinching at your nipples.

You whine even louder, overcome by the pleasure that’s beginning to surge through you again.

Wonwoo’s fucking you roughly now, his hand still on your throat as he kisses your breath away, Mingyu’s playing with your sensitive nipples, and you’re rubbing your clit- this is definitely heaven, and you give yourself over to the feeling of it. 

God, to be worshipped by two people- how can you ever go back to regular one-on-one sex after this?

You can feel your pussy clenching, getting closer and closer to the edge-

Wonwoo breaks the kiss, his lips seeking out your throat. “I can feel that you’re almost there, gorgeous,” he groans.

“Yes!” you whimper.

“So do it, cum for us.”

He tightens his grip on your throat and your entire body fizzles with hot erotic energy.

You clench your eyes shut, focusing on the pressure in your abdomen-

One more tweak of your nipples has you gasping, exploding around Wonwoo, who groans lewdly in your ear, fucking you even harder in an effort to reach his high with you.

A moment later you can feel him filling you up too, and it feels so good to be this full. 

Mingyu relents on your nipples, and you pull your hand away from your clit in favor of wrapping your arms around Wonwoo, holding him close and panting while you both enjoy the last seconds of your highs.

When it’s all said and done, you can hardly open your eyes, can hardly move as Wonwoo gets off of you.

A minute later, someone is washing your inner thighs, and then, Mingyu is lifting you off the bed. You find yourself in the bathroom, held up by two strong men as they wash your body, pressing gentle kisses here and there.

“Think we fucked her stupid,” Mingyu chuckles.

“Three orgasms can be a lot all at once,” Wonwoo muses. 

“I don’t know about you, but if what happens in Thailand stays in Thailand, and this is the only night we get with her, I plan on giving her more than just three.”

“Let her rest a little, we’ll get her some water, and we’ll see how she feels,” Wonwoo reminds his overeager friend.

You can’t muster the energy to speak just yet, but fuck it, you’re not going to miss this opportunity, you’re aware of how fleeting it may be.

Epilogue

Everyone is at the airport, and Seungcheol can’t take his gaze off you, Wonwoo, and Mingyu. 

To the untrained eye, you might all just look like travel buddies, sitting together and chatting. But to Seungcheol, he can see right through it.

“They totally fucked,” Seungcheol says through gritted teeth, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits next to his wife for their flight out of Thailand.

“You’re overthinking things again,” Sumi reminds him, flipping through her fashion magazine.

“I’m not overthinking anything,” Seungcheol snaps, but then he takes a second to calm himself. “It’s not going to last.”

Sumi lets out a sigh. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

Seungcheol can’t exactly explain the emotions he’s feeling, there are too many of them, jumbled together and amplified. 

But as he watches you laugh with his friends, he realizes it’s the first time he’s really seen you smile in years.

It’s a thoughtless smile, a smile that’s not forced or trained to keep up with the family image. It’s a smile that says you’re completely at ease with the situation, and upon seeing it, something inside Seungcheol softens. 

Your entire relationship as siblings has been competition, and Seungcheol thinks maybe part of this whole issue has been the feeling that he’s competing with you for his friends’ attention. Maybe he shouldn’t be viewing it that way, after all, you deserve to be happy too.

Seungcheol’s pretty sure this love affair between the three of you won’t last, and when it’s over, he can have his friends back. He can pretend none of this ever happened.

But, Seungcheol supposes, as your brother, the best thing he can do is let this all go, and try to just be happy for you.

With one last sight, Seungcheol places his hand over Sumi’s, leaning in to give her cheek a kiss. “You’re my rock.”

“I know.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I haven't written meanie in forever and I'm glad I was able to spend time with them in this fic this month.

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🔮 preview.  To celebrate a year or so of being together, you, Mingyu, and Wonwoo are back in Thailand. It feels fitting to be celebrating a relationship that started here, and it’s with newfound appreciation that you enjoy the resort Seungcheol got married at thirteen months ago.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, threesome, double penetration, anal, fingering, pussy eating, spanking, groping, manhandling, fullness kink, praise, dirty talk, squirting, overstimulation, etc…   I petnames. (hers). Gorgeous, baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3 I teaser wc. 90

🌙 starring. Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

When you’d returned to the city, you’d invited Mingyu and Wonwoo to your art showing. The two of them had come through for you, making the night even more wonderful than it had promised to be.

You’d all gone home after the showing together, spending hours fucking and talking- and things had just continued that way.

No relationship in your life has ever been this easy, and you realize, after almost a year of seeing the two men, that this isn’t a dynamic you ever want to give up.

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[jedisupernova]

falling for a prince — choi seunghyun

notes minors dni contains fem reader (begins with reader being 23, seunghyun 25; progressively age and goes into their late 40s later in the fic), non idol au, unabashedly plus size reader as i am myself but anyone can read, reader has a middle class background, takes place in the 80s, made up details about a fictional royal family and seunghyun's role in it to build dynamic (he is the eldest—the heir to the throne), this is very much slice of life, seunghyun and reader are intellectuals, chronicles courtship; progression of relationship; engagement; married life, very gentle and poetic love that comes around once in a generation, angst (insecurity, dealing with fame, contradictory expectations, invasions of privacy, jealousy, difficulties navigating pregnancy and parenthood, classist and snobbish remarks, body shaming, reader navigating the demanding and nuanced life of a public figure, mentions of sickness and anxiety,) vignettes of smut (p in v, oral f receiving, keeping quiet,) and invitable typos though some are intentional.

requested? this is an original idea! i saw the photo in the header whilst scrolling through pinterest, and this just blossomed in my head. this is very detailed and long. enjoy!

from a young age, seunghyun knew he was important. it was drilled into him since sentience. grown men and women either bowing or curtsying to a toddler as he ran with the dogs in the garden, his nanny scolding the people in the kitchen (before he learned the word chef) when his oatmeal wasn't prepared properly, his mother and father sitting across from him in one of his family's many rolls royces and range rovers; a physical dynamic that would certifiably establish his role and purpose, being taught to scrub the words mom and dad from his vocabulary at age five for the queen and his royal highness when secretaries and other subordinates were around—most of which were not as fiercely practiced with his four siblings (two brothers and two sisters, coincidentally enough.) all except that last rule, however. mother and papa were fine on lax occasions. such as family easter brunch, christmas day, or when one has returned home from a long engagement to fulfill your duties for the boss—a term his eldest sister coined for their mother—herself. the eldest and heir apparent to his nation's throne, seunghyun isn't allotted much wiggle room. but he'll be damned to let antiquity trump autonomy.

he's kept a diary (yes, he calls it as such because words are just words, no matter how hard your youngest brother may laugh at you) since he was a boy. the practice has stayed with him well into his adult life, bemusing himself intermittently reading old entries. no matter his state of mind, he finds himself turning the yellowed pages that were once crisp white, ink still jet black as he read the thoughts of a precocious adolescent whisked away to boarding school as per longstanding royal tradition. putting on a strong face, horrendously underprepared for sudden isolating independence, and thirteen years old, he was surprisingly if not humorously so with hindsight, inquisitive. I have a mom, dad, brothers and sisters. So I have a family. But it feels like a system. We all have a part. I don't know if that makes sense. "it does." he would say to himself in his bedroom in the royal residence he inherited at age eighteen—one of over 150 owned and overseen by the royal family—equipped with seven bedrooms and drawing rooms, despite him being the sole resident apart from his staff. excess was no stranger to the uber wealthy, let alone the royals, but he made due with the space bestowed upon him: writing here . . . reading there . . . painting outside . . . testing a film camera in this garden . . . returning the queen's calls here . . .

for many monarchies around the world—including the one seunghyun was born into—it is historically believed the monarch's right to rule comes directly from the divine. between himself and only himself, he doesn't know if he believes it all that much. he's felt more spiritual than religious all his life from the moment either concept grasped his mere periphery. that's not to say, however, he will suddenly be a no-show to the christmas day church service in which hundreds of civilians camp outside for hours to catch a fleeting glimpse of the family their taxpayer dollars go towards, or reject the holy oil on his coronation day. some traditions have room to be questioned whereas others seem an untouchable force. no matter how deeply seunghyun exhaustively pondered, an alternative felt both irrationally childish and obscenely necessary. he felt his existence was a continuous contradiction: the blood of his ancestors of monarchs past flowing through his veins, but also serving as reminder he just so happened to win the greatest genetic lottery known to humankind. it could have been anyone else, he's thought to himself since he was a teenager, looking at his siblings sat with him at a polo match; all two or three years apart in age, but for some reason, it was me.

in pursuit of modernization, seunghyun has fallen privy to expectation. finishing preparatory story was akin to re-debuting to the world as he was now of age and ready to tread headfirst into the transition of working as a royal full-time. he enrolled at oxford for his undergraduate endeavors—a choice of institution purely by the power of the boss (seunghyun much preferred the programs at harvard.) his english was more proficient than he'd give himself credit for. add it to his arsenal tipped off by his mother tongue, functional japanese, elementary-level french and "just a spot" of italian—he was an intellectual force to be reckoned with. he's remained precocious all his life. surely, a product of being the eldest and therefore the designated thesaurus of all things whatever-my-mind-comes-up-with, but also the one was born to be dependable, reliable, and have all the answers both metaphorically and literally.

It could be an imbalance of pressure, he wrote in his diary a couple weeks after his freshman term began. he was clad in a white ribbed tank top and briefs in bed, cigarette hanging from his lips, fanning himself with his other hand to deal with the faulty air conditioning unit in his dorm room. seunghyun was caught in the memories of helping his younger sisters with their coursework upon his return home from boarding school for the holidays; accosted by the accusatory secretaries of the boss and her husband claiming he wasn't letting his siblings be independent, yet receiving vitriolic blame when their marks weren't high enough. But I am a master at exhausting each working part of my brain, seunghyun scribbled onto the page with his fountain pen, Despite that, I think I've grown. I do not feel that insatiob insatiable nibbling (?) or need for approval as much anymore. Perhaps its been temporarily replaced by undeterred untainted plain determination. I'll see how I feel in a few months time.

seunghyun certainly did, just not in the way he envisioned. just two days—two days—after declaring his dual majors, finding leeway for delving into his interests by choosing political science and physics concentrating on planetary science to scratch both sides of his brain, he was forced to take a two-year leave of absence from university. a few weeks after writing the aforementioned diary entry, a sour public opinion poll was plastered on the front page of one of the nation's top newspapers, alleging over forty percent of the public thought seunghyun was "underserving" as prince. despite the cloudy word choice, the number floating below fifty, and the overall danger of depending on something as fickle as a fucking poll, the queen was somehow cornered and convinced by an advisor to prematurely send seunghyun to a training course prefacing four terms at a military academy.

the idea of serving in the armed forces wasn't outlandish. his father served in the navy; his uncles the air force; his mother and aunts in auxiliary services. it fits the utmost bill of expectation. seunghyun and his siblings have known of this part of their duty since they were children, but it being this early in seunghyun's life was the disorienting bit. here he was again: underprepared, yet forced to put on a strong face. he was eerily silent on the jet and car ride home—blowing his voice and slamming doors after a yelling tirade with the boss and her husband. seunghyun knew there's no world—at least not yet—that he would win the fight, so despite being reduced to frustrated tears in his personal quarters at the palace, some part of him remained dignified that there was even a fight to begin with. he could say something—it'll lead to doing something next, or something shifting into place.

his two-year leave led him to being in your graduating class. countless summer barbecues and holiday dinners where your cousins routinely asked the same question upon arrival: "what's it like going to school with a prince?" to which you always responded, "i haven't seen him around." it's the unequivocal truth despite their animated groans of annoyance. when seunghyun returned to campus harboring a buzz cut growing out handsomely (much to the frustration of his brothers and amused fascination of his father,) and freshly branded with three honorary military titles after barely passing his combat fitness test (he dominated his flying exam though his humbleness deters any need for boasting,) he stayed mostly to himself his first term back at oxford. to reconfigure his mindset and pick up the pieces of the person he left behind, mostly, but also to find his footing. he wasn't seen outside his dormitory hall unless it was for lecture or the library; zeroing in his assigned readings and corresponding coursework before gradually integrating any extracurriculars of interest; meeting his cousin whom was a year above him on the weekends which turned into a rather large friend group. seunghyun knew he did something right when he walked into the dining hall for breakfast one morning to minimal heads turned and watchful eyes, leaving him and his mushroom omelette to just be.

you only saw him once the entirety of your undergraduate pursuits. once—and it was fleeting; seeing him walk hurriedly down one of the campus gardens, presumably late for something. upon reading in the paper that he was studying political science as well, you were remised to not feel slight disappointment from having no shared lectures or even damn tutors. not that you thought you had a chance . . . that never percolated in your mind . . . but it would've been nice to actually and tangibly see him, or perhaps hear his voice. him and his family were continuously all over the papers and covered in news broadcasts; ever-present around the globe, even reaching yours—though everything and nothing was known about them. its on purpose, you figured, as it did seem like the proper formula for the elite, let alone someone from the aristocracy: move with muted grace, but not without them knowing first. however, when this one in a trillion chance of fate aligned—going to college with a goddamn prince—it was completely understandable to be at least somewhat interested or curious about him . . . he was rather handsome . . . and seemed secure in himself . . .

your time at oxford was lively nonetheless. you were one of a small group of students whom was offered a full scholarship to the university—a direct result of your academic tenacity, your family scrounging the funds together to buy you an airplane ticket for your admissions interview, and the universe patting you on the back for your efforts. that's not to say it hasn't been difficult: it took nearly an entire term to mend the visceral homesickness that nauseated your heart and stomach, and a few failed essays to adjust to the different style of coursework and grading scheme. you were fortunate to find a tight knit group of friends who just understood you; a metaphorical warmth to embrace you in the library or anywhere, exhausted by the various part-time jobs you held to afford the international calling cards necessary to phone home, and just have pocket money in general. you graduated the top five percent in the college you studied under at university, landing you and two of your closest friends well-paying jobs in the city. a month after graduating, you were splitting rent on a modest townhouse with those two friends—happy, content, and for the first time in a long while, stable. the prince was long gone from your periphery. those sort of paths aren't meant to cross, anyway—until they did.

around a year later, tipping off the summer of 1984, the landline rang in the kitchen. it was a friend from college, passing knowledge of a get-together in the coming weekend to your flatmate who picked up the phone in the middle of dinner. "everyone who's graduated last year's coming up to the village again for drinks—to catch up and such. it was initially more intimate, but now with what i've last heard, its on the precipice of growing out of control," she giggled into the receiver. "can i count on you fun lot to be there? its next weekend—the 21st." you three took the train up to oxford the following saturday, dropping your overnight bags off at a frequented village hostel before heading to the listed pub later that evening. it was certainly bustling—the amount of people surrounding three small tables pushed together, making use of one side being one long cushioned booth whilst the others grabbed chairs from wherever they could—squashing the simplified explanation of its saturday night, illustrating that, indeed, an impromptu college reunion had unintentionally blown out of proportion.

you felt alive again—laughing the hardest you had in a long time, trading endearingly awkward anecdotes with friends you last saw on move-out day; basking in shared timidity of not knowing how to be adults whatsoever, and gradually drinking your pint. you hadn't scratched the halfway point, but it was a hell of a lot better than when you first arrived in britain all those years ago, barely able to stomach the malt and earthy flavor, let alone the amount of money you wasted to partake in the nightlife. it was when you wiped the foam from your top lip with your napkin after taking a sip that you saw the prince sat on the opposite end of the makeshift long table—on the booth side, just one or two people away from the corner. he looked deep in his own conversation, dabbing a handkerchief on the sweat building at his temple, his other hand nonverbally accentuating whatever point he was making to his friends before reaching in into the stack of peanuts between them, crushing one idly before eating the savory snack. you tried to keep your surprise muted, but your flatmate and friend—the first one you made at oxford—knew your widened eyes better than anyone else. sat on the chair side, she's been waiting for you, or anyone she knows, to notice seunghyun. she leaned in, a hand on your arm, "i know, right?" she said. "properly out of control." you giggled with her like schoolgirls at a sleepover, faces hot with giddiness.

seunghyun noticed you later on in the night, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in the midst his conversation with the live band playing in the pub. no one had felt tied to the table anymore, dispersing throughout the room. you and your friends stayed put, taking advantage of the added space. you moved completely to the booth side, arm relaxed atop the table with your hand propping your head up, laughter ringing out of you; entering the reminiscing-about-college part of the night. "i still can't believe i somehow churned 2,500 words out of me. in four hours, and weekly, mind you!" a friend tsked from the other side of the table. "i couldn't figure out for the life of me how to balance that with my dissertation." "those assigned readings were the bane of my existence." you added, a flurry of agreed nods paired with a friend who was particularly more tipsy letting out a slurred yet very parliamentarian "hear-hear," in support. "i mean—it'd say chapter five, but then chapter five would be a ghastly one hundred pages long. it was actually impossible on top of everything else. so many days where personal hygiene was compromised . . ." you erupted in laughter, catching seunghyun's ear.

he grinned to himself, the shared joy palpable despite not being in on the conversation. his swift glance turned into a lingering stare, quickly looking away when you got up. "i won't be long. you said that bathroom was just around the right? alright—thank you." you turned the corner, another person walking by when you past him. seunghyun looked over his shoulder, gradually turning around, his eyes following you until you disappeared behind the swinging washroom door. he found himself waiting, half-listening to the keyboardist go on about his prospects at college. when you emerged again, seunghyun's posture straightened, hands going into his pockets until the perspiration of his palms made itself known. you stepped to the side, inadvertently planting yourself a couple feet away from him, making room for what looked to be a group of co-workers walking by. your eyes met momentarily, feeling your heart freeze, somehow moving your head into a polite nod. seunghyun mimicked you, feeling the same grin from before stretching his mouth once again. he took a step closer, his voice next to your ear practically sending you into cardiac arrest before you could scuttle away.

"you have a very beautiful laugh." he said. you turned your head, looking up at him, seeing him scratch his chin; trying to find a word. "prolific." he spoke, looking into your eyes. "i don't think i've heard anything like it before." "t-thank you." you nodded. your mouth felt dry and your chest pounded as if you were in trouble—which didn't make any sense, because he was being perfectly polite. normal, even. but its who he is that's terrifying me, your inner monologue was screaming. like if i say something, i'll be black-bagged and taken away. "that's very kind of you to say." you told him, your arms akin to jelly and brain on auto-pilot. "i do like to . . . laugh." you descended into an embarrassed exhale, unsure of what to say. seunghyun chuckled, his eyes kissing at their respective ends. "that's always good." he concurred. "i'm seunghyun." he rested his palm atop his chest. "its lovely to meet you." you introduced yourself, shaking his hand when he extended it. he internally cringed at himself—i probably shouldn't've done that, his inner monologue voiced; too late to retract his hand. you then asked the question that would eventually lead to a new era of the royal family: "were you also—" you cleared your throat, nerves nowhere near subsiding. "were you also here for the—the, sort of— impromptu oxford reunion?"

your friends read the room and left you alone, eyes drifting over sneakily when you and seunghyun sat at your own small table, him flagging someone down and ordering drinks for the both of you. seunghyun was a skilled conversationalist and put you at ease surprisingly quickly, satisfied upon noticing your relaxed posture as you went on about your time at college. "i can't believe we haven't met before." he said, taking a sip from his drink. "i mean, we studied the same subject and all." your eyes softened, if only he knew i thought the same thing, "i know. it is rather peculiar." you said, smiling when he let out a laugh. "peculiar indeed." when your friends decided to call it a night, they tried to hurry their goodbyes as to not take you away from him, but seunghyun's niceties activated quickly. "i don't want to keep you from your friends—" "—its alright—you're not keeping her away!" your eldest friend interjected, shaking her head with a grand smile. "we're staying at the hostel just a few blocks down. its not a problem at all." with that, seunghyun nodded, bidding his goodnights to them; seeing her shoot a wink at you before heading out the door, smirking upon casting his eyes on your sheepish expression.

"i'm sorry, she can be very—" "—supportive?" he cut you off. "that's one way of saying it, yes." you chuckled nervously. he found it sweet, eyes tenderly cast on you. "i'm quite thankful for her, then." on the walk home an hour later, seunghyun's head was stirring. he walked wordlessly next to you on the side closest to the road, pondering on what to do next once you two reached your hostel. you glanced at him from the side, feeling warmth travel up from your neck into your cheeks from something other than the summer night humidity at the sight of his hands behind his back in an admittedly very princely manner. you had no way of knowing this, despite the pose feeling very familiar from photos you've seen in the paper, but its the way he's carried himself since he can remember—mimicking his father and his grandfather before him. you finally got to see his outfit outside of the dimly-lit bar: a white short-sleeve button up tucked neatly into jeans, complemented by a dark brown belt and adidas trainers. its like those tabloid photos of him and his family have come to life before you, with the addition of his cloudy round wire-frame glasses from the heat; seunghyun's forgetfulness to clean them; and his prescription eye contacts not coming in on time.

"this is me." you came to a halt in front of a brick building. "i had a—" the nerves returned when your eyes met. "i had a wonderful time tonight. thank you for everything, seunghyun." it felt so strange to say his name so casually though he introduced himself as such—how many royal protocols am i breaking? he admired the sight of you: hair slightly frizzy from the heat, skin glowing in the lingering humidity, shirt endearingly wrinkled. "its been nothing short of a pleasure." seunghyun nodded, eyes soft. the sound of your sweet, soft laugh made his brain briefly short-circuit, speaking before thinking clearly. "goodnight." "goodnight." you said back to him gently, not surprised yet feeling bittersweet disappointment. for a fleeting moment, you believed this was the start of something. but, alas, seunghyun is seunghyun, and you are you. a prince and a commoner—a tale too good to be true. perhaps this night was destined to become part of your story-telling rolodex, unexpectedly dropping it on your grandchildren in fifty years time.

he turned to make his way back to the pub and to his car when you started climbing the stairs. not even five steps in, however, did his chest sink to a level so deep that an alarm rang ferociously in his head. i'm making a grave mistake, seunghyun turned around, quickly jogging to the bottom of the stairs. "can i call you?" "hm?" you turned around, about to enter your key into the door lock. "can i—" the nerves caught in his throat, swallowing. "may i call you? i'd like to . . . i'd like to get to know you better. i'm starting my masters here in the fall, and i'd like to have a familiar face." he had plenty, but its the first thing he could think of to keep himself tethered to you. you smiled, glancing at the pavement below your feet. "y-yes, you may." you said. "have you—do you have something i can write our landline number on?" "i—" he patted his pockets—nothing. "i don't." shit. "i'm sorry—" "its not a problem," you attempted to troubleshoot this quickly. "i'm sure there's something in the hostel—" you thought aloud, looking down at him. "would you mind coming in for a second? i just want to make sure i give it to you." you chuckled nervously, seeing the smile on his face. "of course." he climbed up the stairs, sending your flatmates listening behind the door into a frenzy. "go! go—that way!" your eldest friend whispered in panic, the both of them scurrying to the other room.

thus began a new chapter in either of your lives. seunghyun worked towards his masters in art history on the weekdays at oxford, traveling to the city discreetly to visit his girlfriend on the weekends. you worked your nine to five as a policy analyst for a non-profit on the weekdays, taking the tube home to find a deliveryman walking to your gate the same time you were, holding a vase filled with flowers from your boyfriend; the note signed with an S, sneaking him in through the backdoor when he arrived late-friday evenings and left sunday night. you made meals together and took walks around the park, sharing your first kiss underneath a weeping willow tree. his hands were politely behind his back as per habit, stilled even in your holding of his face. "you can hold me, you know." you murmured. "oh, right. yes—" his hands found your waist, gliding warmly to your lower back, bringing you in, "come here, then." he kissed you tenderly, feeling and hearing your amused chuckle against him.

your flatmates were over the moon for you—exhilarated by being in on one of the most exclusive and secretive relationships in the world. seunghyun's upbringing taught him to get along well with just about everyone—having no problem chatting politely with your friends on the phone when they were the ones to pick up, waiting for you to come down to the kitchen. speaking of the landline, it was just that singular one in the entire townhome. the cord could only go so far, so when you had enough of standing or pacing, you pulled a chair against the wall. where seunghyun was staying in the surrounding oxford area, his staff watched in amusement at him dragging the connecting cable and cord to his bedroom to lay comfortably in his bed whilst speaking with you, holding in their laughter when they heard his shoes skid against the floor.

you traded annotated books, reading the pages in each other's voices; ways of thinking; inner monologues. he adored your scribbles and you his chicken scratch, though legibility was another conversation entirely: "is it a prerequisite for future monarchs to write so messily?" you heard seunghyun laugh from his end of the line. "i can hardly make out your thoughts on frost." "he's one of my favorite poets. that's really all there is to know about that," he chuckled. "the queen's penmanship is wonderful, if i'm to be candid. and your's is not all that better than mine, my love." an upside down grin pulled the corners of his mouth. "and the choice of red has me feeling i'm reading a marked essay instead of hemingway." he let out a hearty laugh at your groan and tutted good-faith insult, his face feeling warmer than before. there was equal, if not more, admiration when your eyes were casted on his mother language, thumb dotingly grazing the text before reaching his rushed etchings. you couldn't understand, but you could feel.

perhaps the rumors swirling around your four month anniversary could be attributed to your trips to the back of the movie theater; sneaking kisses between scenes, trips to the farmer's market every other sunday; clad in sunglasses and baseball caps, though a few papparazzi took some nondescript photos of you two—landing on the boss's desk, or driving with the windows of his range rover down; rolling them up once seunghyun pulled into an empty parking lot, your antics in the backseat blacked out by the glass. before seunghyun left for the weekend to see you, he routinely reminded his personal secretary to "only page me if the queen has been compromised, the family's in trouble, or if we've been found out," leading to many peaceful nights in your bed. he falls asleep so easily with the warmth of your plush body nuzzled into his chest; lovingly encased in his arms. light, content snores emit from either seunghyun and yours' nostrils after making love, failed attempts at silencing your lustful moans and whimpers through half-covered mouths—the squeaking of your metal bed frame saying enough to your flatmates if they went got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.

having a future monarch's head between your thighs, his hair messy and noises of his mouth and tongue suckling your clit so poetically lewd, was a sight to see and experience to behold. his soft palms moved romantically up and down your sides and stomach, tenderly yet briskly kneading your rolls, savoring the feeling of your stretch marks against his fingers—marks of the divine he calls them in his head—moaning lowly against your puffy lips, his hands making their way up to your perky breasts. "feel me." he egged, vibrations of his low voice against you making your eyes roll back. "feel me. feel my tongue." "o—oh—just like t-that—just like that!" you begged in a pitchy whisper. seunghyun looked up from his place being so hotly squished between your thick thighs, moving your stomach a little to make view of your face. how he wishes he occupied the talent to immortalize such beauty on a canvas whilst sat in his garden at home . . . the sheen of your supple skin nurtured by your building sweat, disheveled hair messily strewn along your forehead and pillow, lips slightly swollen from the heavy kisses you shared moments before you blessed him with your taste, eyebrows upturned, mouth agape, calling his name so delicately . . . he closed his eyes, continuing his ministrations, encouraging you to fasten your grip around his head with his palms on either sides of your thighs.

shortly before the holidays, you and seunghyun mutually agreed to tell your parents about your relationship. "i love you too much to keep being so secretive." he leaned down, planting a purposefully long kiss onto your cheek. you tsked, taking your eyeliner pencil away from your lid, seeing seunghyun smirking above you. "you're going to make me poke my eye out, seunghyun." you tutted, only to soften once meeting his eyes. "i love you, too." you moved closer, signaling for him to come down, pressing a sweet kiss onto his lips. "now behave and let me finish my makeup. we have to leave in twenty minutes." "will do." seunghyun was about to leave his spot leaning against the bathroom sink, quickly kissing your temple before you went in with your eyeliner, scurrying away when you turned, seeing him sat on the cushioned toilet lid cover. "you are the purest of evil." your smile gave you away. "ouch." he clutched his heart foolishly, your collective laughter rivaling the lionel richie cassette playing in the living room down the hall, intermittently interrupted by commotion in the kitchen.

your townhome was filled with either of your friend groups, gearing up for a night out together. you set the black eyeliner pencil down when it was to your liking, trading it out for mascara. seunghyun looked down at his wrist, fixing his watch. a question pestered his mind: "do you think your parents will like me?" "i think in any world—in every alternate dimension," your intonation was minutely altered, your mouth hanging open in the midst of applying mascara onto your eyelashes. "i should be the one asking you that question." you switched to your left eye, seunghyun exhaling through his nostrils. "i'm serious, my love. i can't help but be a bit anxious." "it means that you care." you answered, hearing him hum in acknowledgement. "don't be too hard on yourself. there's already so many other things pressuring you unfairly." "i know." "i'm happy you care, seunghyun. they'll really like you, i just know it." you screwed your lid of your mascara until it tightened. "although," seunghyun looked up, unsure of what you were going to say next. "they may not believe me for . . . obvious reasons." an amused grin tugged at his mouth. "i might require photographic evidence. or a court document." you threw in the latter to thwart off your increasingly flustered state. "i see." seunghyun let out a laugh. "i'm more than happy to oblige."

your gaze fell to the sink, avoiding his. "come here." you beckoned. seunghyun got up, taking the two steps it took to be in front of you; the bathroom wasn't spacious whatsoever. the moment your palms rested on his biceps, his arms made residence around your waist, pulling you in. "you look very pretty." he spoke softly, voice characteristically low. "i do?" the playful grin on your face said you knew the answer. "mhm," seunghyun nodded, feeling your hand travel up his chest, settling behind his neck. "very much so." "well, since you're being so nice," you closed the gap a little, but not entirely, "and so well-behaved." the breath of his chuckle tickled your skin, bringing your lips to his. seunghyun reconnected them feeling either of your hands hold the back of his neck—the kiss slow, intentional; intimate.

he rested his cheek against your temple when you turned your head away. "i have an idea." you said aloud, picking your black eyeliner from your makeup bag. "i wouldn't be opposed," said seunghyun. "but that's not going onto my eyes, is it?" "no," you shook your head. "but stay still nonetheless." "alright. have at it." you undid the first three buttons of his shirt, seeing the suggestive look on his face immediately. "don't look at me like that." you muttered, bringing the pencil to his exposed chest. he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, much to your endearing protest. "stop scheming. i told you to stay still." "i'm not scheming. i'm loving you." "you can be so horrifyingly cliché that it somehow morphs into charm." "thank you." he exhaled, mouth molding into a sheepish smile. "have a look." you told him, putting the cap on the pencil, taking a step back to allot seunghyun room to look in the mirror. what reflected back at him brought out the smuggest grin ever to grace mankind.

KING—not written in lettering large enough to rival a billboard, but legible to the point of it being irrefutable. "is it in case i forget?" he asked, looking at you through the mirror. "yes," you nodded, playing along. "the idea was more attractive in my head, but after the first letter i realized it would've been much easier with lipstick. it was too late to stop, though." seunghyun turned around, facing you entirely. "i can wet a cotton pad and—" "—no, no. its fine." seunghyun shook his head in quick reassurance. it clicked for you when he buttoned his shirt. "i like it. it can be our little thing." he said earnestly. "we'll try it next time with your lipstick—the deep red one." you smiled with a nod, suddenly wishing you weren't going out tonight. "okay." your voice was notably quieter. seunghyun was winning; his admiring grin on full display. your face sunk into your palms, "you truly can be so horrible to me sometimes." you complained, gentle tone contrasting with your rhetoric, feeling his arms find your waist. "how am i supposed to go out in this state?" "poor you," he tutted playfully. "so worked up over a bit of teasing." "you're awful."

before the three taxis arrived, the polaroid camera was passed around, decorating your kitchen counter with developing photos. a good number with friends, your flatmates, and seunghyun—one took candidly of you two standing together in the hall; you sat on his lap on the couch, arms around one another, grand smiles on your faces; stood up, his arms around you, cheeks pressed together—all of which you took home to show your parents when you flew home for christmas. your father was flabbergasted; your mother shocked. so many questions were hurled at you, and you answered all of them. excitement soon ensued, you having to hound your father away from the phone, halting his pursuit of calling a travel agency to book a flight to meet seunghyun. "he's telling his parents this holiday, too. i'll let you know when its a good time." "you mean the queen?" your mother raised her eyebrows. "wow—it really must be real if you're talking about them so casually."

much to seunghyun's surprise, his parents were more approving than he anticipated. sure enough, the critical look in their eyes said the trial's only just begun, but in terms of his past girlfriends, this had to be the smoothest sailing yet thus far. arrangements to meet you were quickly set into motion, his mother asking nearby staff to call for her personal secretary—seunghyun stopped her, setting his utensils down. "i would like to meet her parents first." he said. "i want us to be on an equal playing field." "surely, yes," his father spoke knowingly from across the table. "but does she happen to know who your mother is?" "full well, yes." seunghyun answered, nodding. "but, i want to take a step forward in modernizing the monarchy, as i've always desired. this would be an admittedly minute step, yes, but it could set something in motion. she has the ability—the confidence. tenacity, too." he explained. "i would like for us to meet each other's families before our relationship becomes public." "before her life is altered indefinitely, you meant to say." his mother interjected, taking a sip of her water.

seunghyun's shoulders felt heavier—the impending reality weighing down on him. "yes." he answered truthfully. "as you wish." said the queen. "i trust your judgment." he flew your parents out to britain in february, a few days after your first valentine's day together, meeting them during dinner at your townhome. he was a nervous wreck the night before and morning off, his rambles keeping you on the phone instead of preparing for their arrival ("does your mother prefer chocolates or perfume?" "just get her flowers, seunghyun." "oh my goodness, how could i have forgotten that? how about your father? what kind of ties does he like? or is he a cologne—" "—seunghyun, baby, if i don't vaccum right now, i'm going to lose my mind.")

your parents were elated to meet him. seunghyun hurdled through their interrogation with poise, despite having to clear his throat from time to time to thwart nerves. he made a good impression, exemplified by how your father patted him on the back and your mother embraced him like a son-in-law before settling into the taxi, heading to their hotel. you were officially slotted to cordially meet his family come may, ushering in summer 1985; seunghyun receiving his masters degree; closing in on one year together—until his pager beeped in late april. it was around 11:30 pm that friday night. you were laid together in bed: you having just taken the cap off your deep red lipstick, seunghyun's shirt unbuttoned. "is everything okay?" you asked, tone laced with concern. seunghyun shuffled through his dufflebag, pulling out his brick mobile, extending the antenna. "yes—i just have to call my secretary." he dialed, bringing the phone to his ear. his mind rifled through those three reasons he set forth for paging, painstakingly wondering which one it could be . . .

"your royal highness?" "yes, hello—can you hear me?" "i can, sir, yes." "is it the worst possible news?" "no, sir. thankfully not. but you're not going to like this either. i'll get straight to it—" the conversation was in his mother tongue. you gradually sat up, waiting patiently. seunghyun sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hand through his hair. though you couldn't understand, you saw he was listening intently to whatever the information was —either humming "mhm" or saying something with the cadence of a question. "its everywhere, sir," his secretary said into the receiver. "not just at home, but international outlets as well. i was able to receive faxes of the cover stories ahead of time—but there is no way out. they will be published come morning." seunghyun's shoulders didn't sink just yet. "the photos are clear. she will be identified immediately. it will be a matter of hours before the press find her residence."

seunghyun sighed. here it was: the brute, unforgiving, oncoming force touching down in less than twelve hours. with the time difference, mother and papa will find out with the rest of the world, his inner monologue reeled, hiding his face behind his palm. your worry intensified, but kept it at bay, knowing it was unreasonable to ask whilst he was still on the phone. "i suggest you leave now, sir. to avoid compromising your safety—" "—and leave her to the wolves? is that really what you want me to do? there's no world where i am cruel enough to do such a thing." "sir, with all due respect," his secretary cleared his throat. "she was—she was aware this would happen, right?" seunghyun hung up.

he hastily shoved the antenna down, holding the phone with his right hand, his left running over his face. "seunghyun?" your palm traced his shoulder, bringing him back down to earth. but he wasn't sure if this was the planet he wanted to be on at the current moment. he set the phone down on the floor, turning to face you. "that was my secretary." he explained. "my love, they know. we'll be in the papers in the morning—everywhere in a matter of hours." you didn't freeze, but the shock rattled your chest. you knew this day would come at some point—it wasn't unexpected, but in fact established in open conversation when you first started dating. however, its one thing to hear about something, and another to experience it. "we've talked about this before—" "i know, seunghyun. i'm okay." you assured. he huffed, conflicted thoughts permeating the furrow of his eyebrows. "do you want to come to oxford? where i'm staying? i can have the car ready as soon as possible." you contemplated for a moment, ultimately shaking your head. "i can't do that to them, seunghyun."

he knew you were referring to your flatmates. before he could protest, you get out of bed, making your way to the door. "i'll go tell them now—so they can prepare for the morning." "they? what about you?" seunghyun stood to his feet. "seunghyun," you let out a breath. "i've long made my decision since the moment i went on a date with you—since the moment i had a drink with you at the bar." you said, gesturing to your side, but in your head it was the aforementioned memories. "like you've said, we've talked about what's coming, and now its here. if i run away now, there's no point. i have to face them. it might as well be tomorrow." part of you knew you had no idea what you were talking about, that there was no true way to grasp the severity of circumstance until you're thrusted into it. your stubbornness persisted. "my love, you're not running away—" you cut him off by leaving the room, heading up the stairs, knocking on your eldest friend's door first.

a debrief occurred in the kitchen until three am—the makeshift council deciding it was best for seunghyun to return to oxford before morning. "please don't think differently of me." he pleaded into your neck, holding onto you so tightly it was as if you would wither away. "i won't." you said earnestly. "you're the best thing thats ever happened to me." he lifted his head, looking into your eyes. "please—please, i beg of you, don't let these vermin take you away from me." "i won't." you repeated. "come here." you said softly, molding your lips with his. he returned the sentiment, kissing you harder, his hands holding your face in his palms. "i love you so dearly." seunghyun whispered. "i love you more." you whispered back. "page me when you're home safe, okay?"

it was horrendous. catastrophic. absolute pandemonium. the night's deliberations led to the arrangement of your flatmate driving you to work. there were a handful of reporters outside that morning as the news waves hadn't entirely penetrated yet in those early hours—you kept your head down and sped walked to the car. however, stepping foot outside lended your location as if you paged the entire nation, and coming home was a disaster-filled saga. over fifty paparazzi booked it to the car—the clattering of camera shutters continuous as if an off button wasn't an option. your name was hurled at you like a frantic, hunger-filled insult, followed by some of the most invasive questions no one in your close circle could've ever drawn up. by primetime, everyone around the world knew your name and how to spell it.

you tried to exit more discreetly through the backdoor, but the press soon figured that one out, forcing you back to the front entrance. much to your benefit, you became rather skilled at strategically scurrying away—though some reporters more agile than you would give you a run for your money, shoving a microphone in your face as they frantically looked back and forth from you and their cameraman, asking any question ranging from "has his royal highness spoken with you today?" to "how do you think your prospects are to serve as queen?" it escalated to finding you on grocery runs or simply out and about running errands and living normally—the papers all filled with photos of you walking with your head down, hand covering your face. you told seunghyun exactly what you needed: "i need protection," you told him over the phone. "a driver, for a start. her poor ford escort can only take so much." he also arranged for your parents to have security, putting his own money down to pay for the cost.

it then escalated to the point of no return. reporters were knocking—some breaking and entering—your neighbor's homes in hopes of getting intel on you; photographers climbing power poles to zoom in on your windows, leading to blankets being strung up for privacy, and somehow someway the leaking of your landline number; cutting the cord after it rang for over fourteen hours. after two months of mayhem, your flatmate couldn't take it anymore. "they've started contacting my family," she said, wheeling her suitcases out through the backdoor, the rest of her belongings in her car. "i have to draw the line." that night was dreadful—a harrowing image of you sat in the living room with deepened eye bags and a thousand yard stare, commotion of reporters behind a strung up blanket. the couch dipped next to you, your eldest friend bringing you into her arms. "i really can't blame her," you cried. "i—i don't—" "—its okay, its okay." she comforted. "at least marry him so we can get a party out of all of this." she smiled hearing your meek laughter, holding you closer.

when you wouldn't give an interview (or in other words, compromise your privacy for nasty people whom you owed nothing; you and seunghyun weren't even engaged yet) then came the unsavory photos published, op-eds written, and outright lies spread. your middle-class background was villainized to falsely frame you as a gold digger ("i've learned quickly that there's nothing people hate more than those who defy their heinously preconceived notions." you told your flatmate over wine one night); photos of you with an accentuated double chin from struggling to open the car door, a body roll somewhat visible in the millisecond it took you to fix your blouse, an angled photo of your legs taken when you were throwing the garbage out; digitally manipulated to over-exaggerate your natural cellulite were intentionally plastered on the front pages with unfavorable headlines digging at your body. some language tip-toed and was more fluffy whilst others were unabashed: Princess Piggy; Biting off More Than She Can Chew?; Local retailer says she won't carry size "Infinity XL" anymore. your body was treated akin to a moral failing. you remained strong, but felt yourself begin to chip away. you were only human, after all.

seunghyun wanted to set the world on fire. he didn't attend his ceremony, receiving his masters degree quietly before being made to fly back home for good old-fashioned damage control. he donned his round wire frames for a softer, more approachable look, shaking the hands and greeting the hundreds of people waiting to see him outside of the research center he just cut the ribbon for. many were supportive, handing him flowers and other gifts whilst saying "she's so beautiful!" or "you two are such a fine match, bring her home soon! the country wants to meet her!", swiftly walking past anyone stepping over a boundary with their question or remark—until a reporter had something to say. seunghyun didn't overhear what he said at first ("your royal highness, how could you—with someone so below you!") since he was accepting a small bouquet of daises grown in a garden of a mother of four, but looked up before being ushered to the car. "its an embarrassment, sir! you're a future king!" the cameraman caught him, and the mic picked up on his voice: "you could only be so lucky."

you were flown out to meet his family in june. driven hours into the remote countryside to a castle ("i've grown up calling it an estate. its the queen's favorite of our holiday homes." "this is not the time for semantics, seunghyun. thats a fucking granite and slate castle.") the day before his siblings and parents were to arrive. seunghyun gave you a tour of the grounds whilst your luggage was carried in and set up in your quarters by staff—the greenest, crunchiest cabbage growing in the garden; ten tangerine trees scattered throughout a neighboring courtyard; the distant stable, just a mile away from a freshwater stream ("the horse i've known since my childhood is still with us. i named him ben—i was probably around nine years old." "when i was that age, i was just lucky enough to see one in a field during a long car ride."); and the part of the castle you two were staying in—seunghyun reciting facts about various portraits, art pieces, and overall architecture of one of the homes he grew up in ("do see those engravings—just by the chandelier? they've been there for over four hundred years." "that's older than me." "yes, me too, my love."; "my mother and papa usually stay just down that hall." "seunghyun, your parents are just going to be around the corner? and you're just telling me this now?")

as the evening progressed, your nerves did, too. perhaps it was the staff prefacing your surname with "miss" when addressing you, the three course dinner you had looking over massive, fruitful acreage, or staring into the eyes of seunghyun's generations-old ancestor painted onto canvas, almost falling after leaning on what was both part of the library but also dually acting as a secret door into another room, practicing your curtsy an infinite amount of times in the bathroom along with reviewing how to address certain members of his family did it all start to feel a bit too real. you didn't sleep a wink, tossing and turning whilst seunghyun slept peacefully at your side. at half three in the morning, you got up, quietly leaving the bedroom to clear your mind. you didn't stray too far, only going down the long corridor connecting the landing of the staircase to where you were staying for the duration of this trip. the ceilings are so high. its like a different altitude up there, you thought to yourself, craning your neck upwards.

your fingers brushed against the top of the wainscot rails lining the wide walls, turning the corner, finding yourself stood in front of the same portrait as before. it was humungous. the man was aged and dignified, demonstrated in his pristine posture and polite expression. though the portrait had evidence of upkeep and attempts at restoration in its scratched golden frame and crinkled corners, if you looked close enough, you could see where seunghyun got his looks from—those kind brown eyes, smooth nose bridge, and prominent ears didn't spring out of nowhere. it was one thing to know he comes from a lineage so indescribably powerful and influential, but entirely another to see it for yourself, and the person before you wasn't even alive anymore. your eyebrows furrowed, thinking i wonder when this was commissioned. you took a step closer, eyeing what looked to be white numbers in the corner. your stomach churned—1679. you clutched your mouth, running to where you remember the bathroom was, retching into the toilet.

seunghyun stirred awake. senses exhausted in interrupted slumber, he noticed you were gone, along with the subtle shin of the morning sun beginning to purify the curtains. he turned onto his left side, aimlessly grabbing the clock on the nightside table, squinting at the time reading 5:17 AM. he put it back, hand patting the surface to feel for his glasses, putting them before sitting up. a yawn escaped his lips after opening the door, shuffling his bare feet against the carpeted floors. he crossed his arms over his chest, walking halfway down the hall before spotting your head in the sitting room. "my love?" his voice was low, another yawn leaving him. "is that you?" "yes, seunghyun." "come back to bed, baby," he approached the couch you were sat at, sitting down next to you. "its so early." he muttered, eyes still half-closed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "is there a reason you're up? is everything okay?" he asked, rubbing the remaining exhaustion out of his eyes.

you were upfront. there's no point in sugarcoating it, even if the timidity of your voice contradicted that. "i'm very nervous about meeting your family." you whispered. "i haven't slept at all. i was—i was looking at the painting of your . . . your—" "uncle with too many 'greats' before his name that no one cares enough to say." seunghyun nodded after clarifying. you couldn't help the smile stretching your mouth, or the amused exhale leaving your nostrils. he always had such a way of alleviating pressure through humor. despite what others may think, he never really took himself too seriously. "yes, him." you chuckled. "i saw the date the painting was commissioned and i just . . . i just fell apart. your family's history, seunghyun . . . i am no match for it. i don't know who i think i am being here." you shook your head, looking at him pleadingly. he shut that shit down quickly, shaking his head. "nope, we're not doing this," he tutted. "not now. not ever." he moved closer to you, taking your hand in his. "we've talked about this before, my love." his voice was smooth. "you belong here just as much as i do." "thats whats wrong!" you exclaimed. "i don't—" you stuttered, frustrated. "its hard for me to share that feeling. this is all so—its all so big, seunghyun. what if . . . what if your parents don't like me? or your siblings? i don't have the faintest clue of what i'm doing. they're going to see right through me today."

"you do know what you're doing." seunghyun corrected you. "in the way you round the press up like cattle and rightfully give them nothing in return, you know exactly what you are doing. the fact that you have suffered so much these last two months, and still agreed to come here with me, shows that you know what you are doing." he didn't stutter a single vowel, let alone take his eyes off of you. "you already have the spine." said seunghyun. "but its only been two months since we've gone public," you countered, him listening carefully. "what if i break? what if they break me? they've already turned on how i look. who's to say it won't be how i dress next, or how i drink from a glass of water? or how much space i take up in a fucking photo?" you ranted. a long breath escaped your lungs, eyes closing momentarily. "i know its part of the package—part of dating a future king." you said. "i know that i'll be torn to bits. fodder for gossip, target of jealousy, receiver of criticism both deserved and not. i know it so well that it weighs down on my skull, even in its infancy." you lifted your head, meeting his eyes. "but my soul is fragile, seunghyun. i'm am only a human." you shook your head, feeling your eyes become misty. "i'm not—i'm not supernatural."

"that's precisely why i want you here." seunghyun leaned closer to you. "i feel your warmth when i hold your hand. embrace you, kiss your lips. i feel it in your gaze when you look for me across the room. that's not a feeling i've known often in my life." he shook his head. "i was born into a kind of privilege i will never be able to fully understand before i leave this earth. but—but affection, space to listen and be listened to in return, to be so naturally loved . . . those are luxuries my lineage will never be able to afford. you are not a husk. you have a beating heart." his thumb ran gently over your quivering bottom lip. "what if they turn me into one?" your voice barely trailed above a whisper. seunghyun didn't hesitate in his answer: "i would abdicate before i let that happen to you, my love."

you blinked, suddenly feeling hot tears stream down your face, your fingers swiftly flicking them off. "i never thought it was possible to love someone as much as i love you." your voice quivered, an emotional frown tugging at the corners of your mouth, avoiding looking at him in fear you would cry harder. "me neither." his eyes twinkled. he leaned in, hands coming up holding either side of your face before you stopped him. "i—" you glanced down, embarrassment filling your chest. "i vomited earlier. in the . . . in the bathroom." seunghyun turned your head, bringing his lips to your warming cheek instead. "if i knew you felt so uneasy, i would've pushed this trip back." he spoke to you so tenderly, as if you were the only two people in the world. "i just needed assurance." you told him softly. "do you feel reassured?" he genuinely asked. "almost entirely." "come," seunghyun stood on his feet, tugging gently at your hand. "let's go for a walk. it helps clear my mind. i'm sure it'll help you, too."

you walked hand in hand underneath the rising morning sun, ankles tickled by the remnants of the previous evening's sprinkled rainfall soaked into the grass. the door into the horse stable was wide open, seunghyun peering in to see the two royal stablehands already hard at work. you watched swift head bows before politely greeting them yourself. "i can't believe i forgot to show you this yesterday." seunghyun took your hand, ushering you to the other side of the barn. he peered around the corner, carefully stepping onto the gravel upon spotting a fluffy tail. "one of our gardeners wrote to me saying a stray cat has had her kittens here." before you could register the anecdote, an adult cat followed clumsily by three toppling kittens emerged from behind a ledge, scuttling away to nestle underneath the shade of a tangerine tree.

his family was a mixed bag. seunghyun's parents were running late, so you didn't meet them all at once. first came his four siblings who arrived with ten minute increments between them, making your stomach feel queasy whenever the double doors swung open, preceding a brief announcement recited by a secretary of who's arrived. you were all relatively the same age, the eldest after seunghyun 24 and the youngest 17—set to begin college at cambridge in the fall. seunghyun's sisters were like looking at the same person at different stages of her life (his oldest the second eldest of the family, his youngest the baby,) whereas his brothers—the certified middle children—were at times at stark odds. the younger one was demonstrably more extroverted, laying back on the couch with his feet propped up on the table, speaking to you as if you've known one another your entire lives within five minutes of meeting, whereas the older brother was more observant; chiming in whenever needed, but not without his handsome smile.

seunghyun held himself differently, as anyone would in front of their family. there was slightly more command in the vibrato of his voice, though his relaxed body language and knack for witty banter was like looking through vignettes of memories. it was clear this bunch were true siblings, not only bound by blood, but through pointless bickering; weaponization of embarrassing stories; and playing rock-paper-scissors over who gets to eat the last scoop of bingsu for dessert though dinner hadn't started. when the queen and his royal highness arrived on the premises, the eldest sister tugged at your wrist, bringing you towards the back of the group ushering collectively down the hall. "we'll play uno after dinner with the boss." she told you lowly, checking to see if seunghyun overheard. he was occupied, fixing his cufflink. "there's positively no way you'll leave us without seeing how worked up he gets over color coordination."

the execution of your curtsy was pristine, though your heart was beating in your throat. if the queen was interrogating you, she was a master at subtlety, because that beautiful smile and warm, comfortable laugh never disappeared. his father's critical gaze earned a defiant nudge on his arm from his eldest daughter when you weren't looking, followed by hushed bickering before asking a question receiving her nod of approval. you slept better that night following a fanatical five rounds of uno, after each of which seunghyun sat closer to the edge of the couch before standing completely on his feet; pacing four steps back and forth, nearly tripping over nothing to beat his eldest sister, or anyone for that matter, in shouting the winning word. you woke at fifteen past six the next morning to use the bathroom, approached by the queen's secretary on the walk back to your bedroom. "her majesty and his royal highness would like for you to join their morning tea. either will be in the same dining hall as the night previous in one half hour."

you dressed quickly, keeping your composure. she’s just a person. she’s just a person, you repeated in your head, fixing your bracelet for the nth time whilst descending down the wide staircase. your curtsy went even deeper than the previous evening’s, nearly freezing when you felt her lay her palm atop your shoulder. “please, come join us.” her tone was unreadable (or perhaps you were just in overthinking overdrive,) but her idly soft voice put your subconscious at ease, no longer feeling your loafers pinch the back of your ankles. you dipped into a curtsy again at the sight of his royal highness waiting with his hands behind his back—seunghyun is his exact carbon copy—at the far end of the long dining table, offering you a curt nod of acknowledgement. "i was upset we couldn't speak as closely last night," the queen's voice returned your attention to her. "with the commotion of our family and all." she chuckled politely, making you grin in an unavoidably nervous gesture. "i look forward to getting to know you better now. we've heard nothing but the highest of praise." "or perhaps excitement is the preferred term." seunghyun's father chimed in, sitting himself down across from you.

"she's always been so bad at hiding when she's not being subtle." the queen's youngest son critiqued from the sitting room window, watching with his older counterpart with his arms crossed over his chest. "never." the eldest concurred. "remember when she and papa—" "move." a frustrated seunghyun forcibly nestled his way between them, making room for himself in front of the tall window. the youngest kissed his teeth, horrendously annoyed by seunghyun's nuisance. "fuck off, will you? it hasn't even been twenty minutes since i woke up." seunghyun ignored him, gesturing sharply at the view below: his mother and father on either side of you, walking along the grass. "they have her caged in—like an animal!" he thought aloud, baffled. "talk about a metaphor." the younger brother snickered, shut right up when seunghyun reached behind him, nudging the back of his head. "the second she's alone, they ring her in like prey! its like—its like they haven't changed at all! and worst of all, they're completely shameless about it!"

"what's going on?" the sisters entered the sitting room, the eldest tying her robe closed over her pajamas. "its hardly eight am and your ruckus is already carrying throughout the house." "i wanna see!" the youngest of them all chimed, scuttling over, pushing seunghyun's arm out of the way to get a better look. his eldest sister couldn't help her grin. "oh, the boss certainly means business." she let out a tired yawn, rubbing her right eye. "even brought out the translator." she referred to the man walking five paces behind you three—a polyglot the queen has employed for decades, handy for state banquets and trips abroad. she and her husband felt comfortable in their english, but kept him close by in good faith. the five of them watched in awe-filled silence. seunghyun was at a loss for words. his sister assured him like it was muscle memory. "you have nothing to worry about." she told him, the lot of them watching their father pat you on the shoulder, able to make out the comfortable smile on your face despite the growing distance. "that's the most relaxed i've seen papa in years." as if he overheard, their father turned his head, looking behind him at the sound of guardsmen walking by. "the curtain!" the youngest brother yelped, all five hastily reaching their hands up to pull the thick fabric.

later in the morning, you asked a guard where seunghyun was, politely directing you to a nearby garden. seunghyun closed his book, rising quickly from his seat on the bench, walking to you with haste. "my love—good morning." he pampered your lips with his, holding your face in his palms. "so?" was all he was able to muster, anxious thoughts running endlessly through his mind that his thinking became fragmented, eyes flittering around your face for an answer. "i think i passed?" you smiled, easing into laughter feeling seunghyun embrace you with a grip that could only be pure relief. "your father has a penchant for going endlessly back-and forth." you spoke, hands traveling up. "i can see where you get it from." you chuckled, giggling sweetly when he held you tighter.

your first public outing as a couple came july 1985 at the dual-venue benefit concert, live aid. wembley stadium was overflowing with music lovers and spectators alike. it was an atmosphere unlike any other, settling into your suite with friends who tagged along as well. photos in the papers chronicled your frizzy hair and his blowing in the wind churning through the open-roof stadium, beer in his hand, both of you donning ray bans; you two stood on your feet, moving your hands in unison with thousands of others when queen took the stage with radio gaga; you taking your lightweight blazer off, dancing and twirling in your maxi skirt whilst david bowie performed modern love, seunghyun's shy smile about to live on for years on the bedroom walls of teenage girls around the world. you looked so natural, as if you were having the time of your life, because you were! better yet, it inadvertently became a very effective optics campaign. there's nothing more relatable than two twenty-something-year-olds who love live music as much as they do each other. luckily for seunghyun, it was real love.

the tide was turning now that people know you and seunghyun were serious. the vitriolic attacks on your privacy not only persisted, but maximized: private letters leaked, random classmates you've never met claiming to be your "closest confidant" coming out of the woodworks for their fifteen minutes of fame, the outside of your car swarmed in the middle of a traffic jam—it was endless. tiresome. draining. it severed his heart to hear you sound so pitifully defeated over the phone (a new landline specially encrypted with a direct line to him, also protecting other calls needed to be made), your voice often times descending into unintelligible whispers, succumbing to tears. "i just want to tell them to get lost." you wiped your cheeks, clutching the phone like a lifeline. "but i'm afraid of what they might do next. its like they're—they're checking off a list of things to do to me, one by one. 'how cruel can we be today,' or something like that." seunghyun armed you with his family's attorneys, sending them off into battles in the courtroom to squeeze tabloids and other defamatory cases dry.

many spectators anticipated a certain announcement to follow the reporting of you and seunghyun moving in together after three years of dating. it was the fall of 1987—seunghyun began pursuing his history of art phd at cambridge, with you landing a senior position at a non-profit's policy advisory board. seunghyun happily departed from his residence after years of flying back and forth, settling into your three bedroom flat with unbridled ease, furthering the next chapter of your shared lives together. you split chores: trading who washed the dishes on an every-other-day-basis, seunghyun cooking most nights with sunday being the designated takeout day, you telling him to buy a new hoover after your current one gave out in the midst of cleaning the living room, etcetera.

your couch has seen a lot. anecdotes and conversations a rolodex of parasitic tabloids would beg on their hands and knees to obtain—offering to oust one another via sacrificial rituals to print; kisses that would scandalize seunghyun into an overnight sex symbol, defying multiple centuries of articulate public relations handiwork molding the impenetrable influence establishing him as a noble figure; you in such overtly compromising positions that would've been the most expensive paparazzi photos ever sold, if only you and seunghyun didn't live on the top floor with your curtains closed. your knees burned atop the cushions with every ministration of your hips, seunghyun's knees seemingly on opposite ends of the room from how far he's spread his legs. your respective movements were messy and disjointed—but so carnally aligned. he thrusted up into you whilst you worked yourself down onto him, condom slick and creamy, your thick, soft thighs jiggling with such force in collision with his hips. all that can be heard are soft whimpers and helpless gasps. "o—oh!" you squeaked delicately next to his ear, almost drowned out by the lewd sound of your skin slapping together. "s—seunghyun—" you mewled, holding the back of his head, pressing your temple against his. "i-i'm lost in you, my love," he panted, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. "utterly lost—hngh!" he slowed his hips, calming himself down after your gummy walls tightened mercilessly around him. his hands quickly traveled up your back to catch you when you momentarily lost balance, providing leeway to do some work. "let me make you feel good as you do me, yeah? f-fuck! o-oh my—oh my f-fucking—"

afternoons and nights where your thighs fondle his head, legs cast over his shoulders whilst his knees prop him up on the carpet floors, making love to you with his tongue. you've long forgotten about the wine glasses on the coffee table, or the load of laundry waiting to be transfered to the the dryer. that can wait for an eternity, as far as you're concerned. its a sight to behold: you taking off his glasses after they continuously travel down the bridge of his nose, putting them atop your head for safe keeping, your fingers combing his soft hair back; the subtle tinkering of your bracelets falling down your wrist egging him on further. his backpack and textbook waited patiently on the dining table—he has a meeting with his academic advisor on campus in forty-five minutes. you separated your legs, lifting your hips to lay more comfortably, pushing his head in deeper. seunghyun continued his lethal ministrations on your clit, separating your puffy lips with his pointer and middle fingers, isolating it entirely. "f-fuck! yes!" your voice croaked, cracking into an abrupt gasp. "j-just like that, s-seunghyunnie! oh my fucking god!" you almost sounded offended by how good at this he was. your furrowed eyebrows fought with your fallen jaw, "you're gonna—mmf!—y-you're gonna make me cum!" "that's the goal." he muttered. "this is not the time for—o-oh my f-fuck—" the vibrations of his chuckle shut you right up; eyes squeezing shut, back arching, in utter bliss. "i-i'm gonna—i'm—o—oh!"

two years later, you were in finland on holiday. friends came and went in their respective cabins, leaving you and seunghyun alone those last few days before flying home. you two have considered marriage for a while now—having shared many open and transparent conversations regarding the matter. on a human level, you've been ready for the question since your six month anniversary. however, on an impending-public-figure or more aptly put, future-wife-of-the-monarch-and-serving-as-queen level, it took some self reflection to say the least. his belief in you is what sealed the deal: "i was raised to be honest." he told you one night, tucked underneath the duvet alongside you. "i was also raised to root out weakness. if you didn't have what it took, i wouldn't have let my heart surpass the point of no return." he picked the ring out a few weeks before boarding the royal jet with you to finland, and a week after receiving your parents blessing, discreetly tucking it away securely into one of his duffle bags. he routinely built a sweat on that trip despite the cold winter temperatures—checking multiple times a day if the small velvet box was still with his belongings, as if it would somehow grow legs and walk away.

the aurora borealis bloomed above you. it was your second time seeing the phenomenon on this trip alone—basking in the closest thing, to you, humankind will ever come to experiencing magic. seeing it the first time earlier in the week was purely out of fortune. the skies were clear, your entourage pulling into your cabins after a late dinner, only to stand outside in your long puffer jackets and thick beanies for the next twenty minutes in utter awe. the second time it happened, only now it was only you two coming home to your cabin, seunghyun took it as a sign; a leap of faith. he non-suspiciously excused himself, muttering something about retrieving his camera, hurrying to your shared bedroom and sifting through his duffle bag—unzipping the side pocket tucked behind spare clothing, clutching the small box in his palm. he was down on one knee ten minutes later. nothing moved in the world in those moments except you two. his hands shook as he aligned his eye with the film camera’s viewfinder, the flash making the diamond ring sparkle in the night.

to think your first introduction to his nation was as his fiancée was inexplicably and objectively insane. a concurrent move of grandeur and strategic privacy, you thought, whilst preparing for the engagement photo call and subsequent interview. you looked like a match made in the portraits released to the public: stood outside of the palace; seunghyun in an ashy black suit paired with a deep maroon tie, you in a navy blue long sleeve dress that cut off right below your knees. he was holding his arm out for you, your hand adorned with the ring resting in plain view in the allotted gap. the smiles on your faces were irrefutable—this was solid; written in the stars. your eight minute engagement interview aired the following night—prefaced by b-roll of you two perusing the gardens arm-in-arm; him fixing your dress; you straightening his tie—reaching millions around the world. you were received as a kind, well-spoken, intelligent woman topped off with an endearing sense of introversion—“an expected prerequisite of stepping out of her shell,” the news anchor called it, to be specific. the details of your love story of the prince falling for a commoner (and your dress, quite frankly) led to record numbers of undergraduate applications sent to oxford the following cycle; local seamstresses became booked for weeks on end; department stores selling dupes of your dress were sold out for months at a time.

the several months between your engagement and wedding day were colorful in every possible meaning of the word. your time was spent wishing you had more time, in between moving into his residence (“our residence now, my love.”); sorting out your patronages and honorary titles you were to take on after officially becoming both a princess and the future queen; sifting through heaps of doting letters from the public and trying to respond to at least ten before heading to bed; fittings for an endless array of things (most importantly your wedding and reception dress, along with tours planned months in advance for when you’re officially a royal); cake and food tastings; visits to florists; selecting and meeting your new staff, bodyguards, and secretaries; routine visits with your fiancé to your future in-laws’ palaces to pick out a venue; setting up your office … it was endless.

seunghyun was born into this rodeo, so he helped wherever he could. he didn’t want to stifle any opportunities of you establishing your footing in a brand new lifestyle you needed to learn the ins and outs of, but also didn’t want to leave you hanging out on your own. he knew there was a very possible balance between the two, but couldn’t help but get ahead of himself sometimes (“a lady-in-waiting should be someone you’re close to. she’ll help in daily tasks and anything else you might need help with. i’ve told you this before.” “i don’t know who to pick, seunghyun. i don’t have many friends.” “we’ll find you some, then.” “no—that’s not what i’m trying to say, baby. i don’t want just anyone at the wedding, or in my daily life like that.”) he could only be so aware of his indescribable privilege and being privy to such dense knowledge of royal life. he’s admitted to these faults before, and they’ve manifested throughout your relationship. whether it be more passive—addressing luxury cars as if they were toyotas; footing the 12,000/month rent for your shared flat; using a first edition print of a classic novel as a makeshift coaster when he couldn’t find one in the kitchen cabinets; walking barefoot in his centuries-old historical residence decadent in paintings and fixtures worth millions in nothing but linen shorts and a lightweight v-neck sweater; eating a slice of pizza with a knife and fork, much to your amusement: “no, baby.” you simply tutted, getting up from your seat, a hand on his shoulder. “hm?” seunghyun turned his head, attention returning to his plate when you took the utensils out of his hands. “it comes to a point.” you told him with a grin, directing his fingers to hold the crust.

or it can be much more apparent. do not be mistaken by your faces being printed onto dinner plates and sold in gift shops—you and seunghyun are not the perfect couple. you’ve had petty arguments, a disagreement here and there, or outright misalignments. you try to talk it out, but if the circumstance proves to still be sensitive, you take an hour or two away. to seunghyun, this is your shared secret of a long lasting relationship—a testament in your trust of one another. that no matter what, a momentary rift is just that: momentary. you trust each other to feel love and happiness, but also frustration and disappointment—yes, they are equally important. there’s no point in suppressing what makes us human, especially in highly contentious environment seeking to suck the humanity out of you, such as the institution you were marrying into. he needed you, even when he acted amuck.

he had just hung up the phone with his eldest sister—a conversation ending in raised voices and inflamed discontent. he marched out of his office, running his hands over his face, trying to ease his frustration. you turned the corner, “oh, there you are.” his back was turned to you, hearing your loafers against the carpeted floors. “just when i think i know my way around this place, i walk into one of the three dining halls thinking its the hallway to your office.” you chuckled. seunghyun turned around with haste, trying to thwart his irritation. “what is it, baby?” “i wanted to tell you the appointment with our florist’s been moved to this thursday at three. my secretary received the call just a few moments ago. i’m hoping we can finalize the arrangements for the wedding.” “thursday?” seunghyun’s irritation was noticeble to you now. “this thursday? does it have to be?” “i’m afraid so.” you said, carefully observing him, a little confused. “is something wrong?”

“its just that—” he huffed. “its just that my sister’s suddenly—outlandishly demanded my presence.” “for?” “the architect i suggested for her renovations doesn’t meet her hellish standards, as she just so dotingly relayed to me on the phone just now.” he gestured dramatically to his office, returning both of his hands to his hips. you hummed in acknowledgement, nodding. you remembered she was moving into one of the family’s many cottages. as decadent and historical it was, it was aged and in need of an upgrade, at least to their standards—insert seunghyun referencing his trusted architect-interior designer duo he employed for the renovations made to his residence years ago. part of you couldn’t recognize what the fuss was all about. the cottage was huge, bigger than any normal person could ever hope for, yet there they were, bickering like it was a dinky studio apartment in the city. an air of snobbishness certainly ruminates in these halls, considering in this brief beat of silence, seunghyun cut you off before you could say something.

“she wanted an ‘egalitarian flair.’” he recited, kissing his teeth. he turned his head, watching you watch him. “you wouldn’t understand—” he cut himself off the moment he realized what words were leaving his mouth. he didn’t know what came over him, but the sight of your appalled expression served him right. “no, go on.” you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest. “i am your fiancée and the woman who will serve as your next queen. you should feel at ease saying anything in front of or to me. go on.” your stubbornness served as your defiant armor protecting you from a contradictory, unforgiving world, but being at the brunt of it was both humbling and shitty. seunghyun’s head sunk, slowly walking over to you with a stride of sympathy. “i’m sorry, my love,” he said. “i don’t know what came over me. i didn’t mean that.” “tell me what you said.” your tone was firm. “i’m not going to tell you something that i don’t mean.” said seunghyun. “why? because i might not understand it?” you retorted sharply.

frustration brewed in his chest. “if you knew what i said, why make a fool out of me?” “because you’re the one talking in circles—thinking i don’t know what egalitarian means!” you exclaimed. seunghyun huffed, “thats not what i—” “—i went to oxford too, you know.” you cut him off. “i might’ve not been at liberty to renovate my home at the drop of a hat, but i can understand where others are coming from.” seunghyun’s jaw tightened, eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. “don’t make this about that.” he turned around, walking to the end of the hallway towards the terrace. “you know full well i am not the type of person to judge someone based off something as—as s-stubborn as the cards they’ve been dealt!” he exclaimed over his shoulder, sending a butler whom was walking down a neighboring corridor to re-route his path, avoiding the brewing conflict. you quickly followed after seunghyun, “you aren’t!” you said with haste. “and i know that!” you stepped out onto the balcony, the early spring wind brushing against your face.

“but—but these pockets of frustration—” it was so hard to find the words, like they were clogged in your throat, coming out fragmented. “its unfair for them to be mis-directed at me, with no warning! and with hardly an explanation afterwards.” seunghyun reached into the left pocket of his trousers, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. before he could open the box, you snatched both items away. “absolutely not—those things will kill you.” you scolded firmly, placing them atop the glass table behind you. brief, needed silence separated you two. seunghyun was the one to break it, “i’m sorry.” “for?” “being a stuck-up fuck.” you lifted your head, seeing him already looking at you. “i’m not going to lie and say you don’t have the tendency sometimes.” “i’m not sure if you knew this,” he eased into it. “but that’s why i have you around in the first place.”

you scoffed, unable to shake the smile off your face. “your apology’s only partially accepted.” seunghyun made the four step stride over to you, placing a kiss onto your temple. “is it whole now?” he asked. “marginally.” you answered, looking at the meadow ahead of you. you giggled at the ticklish feeling of his lips hovering closely above your cheek, kissing your lips softly. his hands made residence onto your lower back, pulling you closer when you reconnected the kiss. “whole.” you confirmed, hand holding the back of his head as he leaned down swiftly, planting a kiss just below your neck. his hand grabbed your left, pressing his lips against the back of it, humming in contentment upon feeling the diamond gently rub against his skin. “your sister needs to stuff it.” you told him. he looked at you, amused grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “can you put that in writing?”

your wedding took place in the summer of 1990. just under 1,500 guests attending the ceremony, ranging from close confidants to political leaders, to a much more intimate 200 invited to the evening reception. no amount of rehearsal could’ve prepared you for the oddity of the day. that saturday felt as if it played out in both slow motion and ten times fast—flashes of thousands lining the barricaded streets, you waving with a grand smile behind your veil and the closed windows of the rolls royce, your parents overjoyed and overwhelmed at the energy surrounding you; your eldest friend, most concrete confidant, and overall key to surviving your then-broken heart fixing the train of your off-white gown after you successfully got out of the car and made it inside, the chimes of bells filling your ears; the broadcast cameras capturing seunghyun’s siblings standing to his left at the altar as you walked down the aisle, already trying to blink away his tears; the organ drowned out any possibility of overhearing seunghyun’s “you picked a good one,” to you, quickly wiping away a fallen tear after taking in the sight of your gown and tiara adorning your fucking beautiful head—bridal boutiques were never the same; his sneaky, subtly and characteristically funny expressions to alleviate your nerves when repeating your vows the officiant recited for either of you—romance novels were never the same; suddenly, the wedding bands were on, and deafening celebration surrounded you as seunghyun’s hand held yours, helping you into the carriage before settling in himself for the public send off. “and here they are now,” a reporter from overseas spoke into his microphone, pressing down on his earpiece to hear himself. the cameraman zoomed in, capturing you and seunghyun waving graciously, smiling unabashedly. “a future king and queen—an unexpected match that has resonated with many far and wide. waving to not only the people of their realms, but to the world itself. may they—perhaps this partnership will fulfill the phrase we’ve known as children, and only from fairytales: and they live happily ever after.”

in the few hours before your reception, you and seunghyun re-cooperated at your residence. as soon as your dress was off, you made a b-line to the bathroom, soaking your feet in the cold water seunghyun had drawn in the tub at your request. “remind me to never break in heels the day i need to wear them.” you let out a breath of relief feeling the cold water hit the irritated skin of your feet, relaxing into your chair. seunghyun chuckled, pulling his own next to yours. he admired how you were able to humanize such grand things (you did just come home from a show-stopping wedding, after all) with undiluted, transparent humor. it was certainly a coping mechanism, and it worked well. “noted.” he murmured, kissing your temple. “we’ve done it, y'know.” he said, earning your attention. “we’re married now.” “we are.” you smiled. “you were magnificent up there,” seunghyun doted. “my beautiful wife.” “my beautiful husband.” you said back to him softly, earning a flustered giggle from him. “you make a very pretty princess.” he leaned in, kissing your lips gently. “i knew i made the right decision accepting your ring when the tiara started to feel weightless.” you both erupted in harmonious, organic laughter, bringing his lips back to yours.

transitioning to life as a working royal was unique. it brought about questions that opened a part of your brain and unleashed emotions you didn’t know you had: I’m not a political figure, yet a handshake or how well I do on do in outings hold as much as power as a legislator does signing a bill into law, you scribbled into your journal—a habit you inherited through osmosis from your husband early in your relationship; initially beginning as letter-writing when he was abroad—I’m not here to share to have or show my opinion, but if I don’t give the impression that I have a working brain, I’m labeled as a ditz. How funny is that? you let out a breath, stretching your arms out before returning your fountain pen to the page. Being impartial isn’t natural. No one wants me to change the world, but they want me to be it. Am I a humanitarian? A projection Something to be projected onto? I brought it up to the husband the other day during lunch, and he said I know who I am and I can make it however I want it to be. He’s got a point. He always does.

by far, he is your biggest fan. when you go on public engagements together, he is smiling in those photos like he’s the one meeting you. whether it was another hot mic moment where a reporter unknowingly picked up on him telling the head of a research facility “i can’t believe i was the one who got to marry her” before embarking on a guided tour of the building, or his asking staff to tape your news coverage when you were performing duties abroad by yourself; always making time to talk on the phone when either of you too were away—time differences were an effortless obstacle (“you are utterly magnificent, my love. you were born for this. i can’t believe it—i think you’ve given me an irregular heartbeat.” “i never thought your dramatics could be transmitted overseas, but i stand corrected.”); or trying to make light of harsh, unruly tabloids, he always stuck out for you—“this is my favorite one.” he slid the paper over to you, hiding his mischievous grin behind his teacup. “really?” you gave him a look. “the one about my armpit being too dark?” “its a ridiculous a waste of resources and insult to intelligence—thats why its hilarious!”

you never thought someone who looked like you would become a fashion icon, yet here you were. steps towards modernization came in waves: unsavory rumors began to swirl around of you being “difficult” when in actuality, you were refusing to work with luxury fashion brands if they rejected expanding their sizes for regular consumers and not just tailoring to you because of your status. it was of no problem to you since other brands naturally stepped up to the occasion, along with integrating small businesses and growing independent fashion houses into your professional and casual wardrobe, helping the underdogs of the world gain traction, as that was once you. not matter if you donned an evening gown and tiara, or a windbreaker with denim shorts and a baseball cap—things were flying off the shelves, camera shutters were going off, and fashion magazine sales skyrocketed.

your precision showed in your makeup choices, too: enhancing your features, but was ultimately sheer, particularly the foundation. you wanted the world to see your freckles; hyperpigmentation; a new spot, or whatever it was. you also had a hand in your speeches—making the language less academic, and more personable. the royal family always moved with purpose—this was just part of your personal arsenal. as confusing as this dynamic was to navigate, no matter how your secretaries or seunghyun told you to explore this multi-layered endeavor, all you knew is that you wanted to be approachable. to be real. this was just one way to do it, even if at times it compromised the amount of respect you received within palace walls. the fact that your popularity was directly derived from your subtle defiance of antiquated tradition certainly ruffled the feathers of traditionalists that shall not be named. but just one strongly worded letter from seunghyun, however, or him threatening to drive his range rover up there, and no advisor dared to say another thing. “all she does is exist as she is, and they love her. do you know how hard it is to do that?” seunghyun ranted in the voicemail box of one of the queen’s advisors that he never liked (the one that got him sent off to the military academy, specifically.) “you’ve never been able to figure out how to do yourself in the fifty years you’ve worked for my family. don’t try to now. see the bigger picture. they adore her. they saw a glimpse of her goddamn lip balm and now she has to get it shipped from elsewhere because its completely sold out. get your head out of your ass.”

you were pregnant six months later—seunghyun and you reduced to joyous tears at the sight of your baby girl on the ultrasound screen. the country and world celebrated with you: landmarks, bridges, and fountains suddenly illuminated with the color pink after the printed and framed announcement was posted on an easel outside of your residence. you continued your duties into halfway through your second trimester—photos of your darling baby bump underneath your coat and glowing skin coating the papers. but once you couldn't stand the heels as your back pain and nausea worsened, and your loafers weren’t doing the trick anymore, you gradually took a step back. your morning sickness fluctuated, at times leaving you bedridden until the early afternoon. your stomach made it hard to shave your legs; too embarrassed to ask a member of your staff to help you, and too fragile to put on stockings, you let it grow.

pregnancy was excruciating. there was no sugarcoating it. seunghyun did everything he could as per the doctor’s orders and his plain instinct from seeing you in so much fucking pain—decorating your side of the king-sized bed with the best maternity pillows in the market; massaging cocoa butter onto your bump every night and morning; making love to your puffy lips like clockwork, helping you relax overly-tense muscles before helping you dress; reading every single piece of what to expect when you’re expecting-related literature he can get his hands on; blinking away his misty eyes at the sound of guttural relief ringing viscerally from your lungs when he held your bump in his palms, pressing kisses to your shoulder—“i am so sorry.” he said meekly. “its—its duty.” you were out of breath, holding onto your wooden bed frame for support whilst seunghyun adjusted his grip below your stomach. “she’ll be worth it. our match made.” you huffed. “she kicks a lot—she’ll be a ruckus force just like her father.”

you and seunghyun have seen one another in vulnerable states throughout the years, but it seems marriage and preparing for parenthood lifted a new veil entirely. the vows for better or worse, in sickness and in health echoing through the high walls of your wedding ceremony and subsequently the world held massive merit, and though some spouses may not mean it when they say it, you two certainly did—your growing baby meant recalibrating your body from time to time to find a new sleeping or sitting position, walking in a way that didn’t have more back begging for mercy, and more pressure applied to your bladder. you were carrying, living, breathing, eating, and digesting for two now, which meant frequent trips to the bathroom throughout the night; fragmenting your sleep. if you didn’t get up from your side of the bed or shuffle across the bedroom in time, seunghyun then helped you into the shower to wash off, or sat in the bath behind you if you felt particularly sheepish.

a month before you were due, seunghyun woke up to your empty side of the bed. hastily speed-walking out of your bedroom, he heard shuffling in the kitchen. he opened the door, seeing you; heavily pregnant, standing in the dark, trying to open a jar in tears. your husband’s silhouette is second nature. seunghyun looked for the light switch, but you quickly protested, “d-dont.” you sniffled. “my—my vision’s a bit sensitive. the lighting makes me dizzy.” his hand found your lower back, lips kissing your temple. “my love, what’s wrong?” he asked so gently, lips returning to your skin upon hearing you cry harder. it didn’t matter that it was half three in morning on a tuesday night and he had to be up at seven for a busy day at work—he was here. “what’s wrong? hm? tell me.” “i just—i just wanted peanut butter.” you said weakly. “and i—and i can’t see the expiry date well because i can’t t-turn on the light. and i can’t reach the bread, because its high on the shelf and the pain is just too much,” you had to momentarily stop yourself from succumbing to blubbering through your tears. “and there’s this—there’s this itch on my back that i can’t fucking reach.”

seunghyun didn’t hesitate. “here, i’ll do it.” he said, fingers ghosting your back. “by your neck? or—” “—below my left shoulder.” his forehead found your temple at the sound of your relieved breath, his hand underneath your shirt, nails raking gingerly on the troubled spot. “i’ll put lotion and oil on your back before bed. you need to rest.” he spoke softly. “its nearly impossible to feel comfortable.” you muttered. “everything hurts.” “i know,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “d'you want me to make some toast, baby? it won’t take long.” “how am i supposed to be a mother, seunghyun?” your voice sounded perishable. “let alone—let alone raise a fucking future monarch?” your bottom lip trembled, pressing your fingers against it in an attempt to halt the brewing tears. “i’m trembling over a piece of bread, yet there is someone on the way who will depend on me to live. i don’t even know what i’m doing half the time. what am i supposed to tell her? its all—its all guesswork for me. i—i don’t know what i’m going to do.” “you have me.” his voice remaining stable helped ease your heartbeat. he was always so good at this. “she has us. we’ll figure this out together. i know we will.”

your first-born daughter and the nation’s future monarch came into the world early in the morning in september 1991, a few months after your first wedding anniversary—screaming at the top of her lungs. labor was arduous, pushing even more so. you called desperately to your mother, whom was also in the delivery room with you and seunghyun at your request. her kind, encouraging words coupled with a tender hand on your forehead provided solace, but once it was time to push, all hell broke loose. you squeezed the life out of seunghyun’s hand, yelling in pain whilst his lips never left your temple, tears escaping his eyes as his words were extensions of his vows: “you’re doing so good. you’re doing so fucking good, i’m so proud of you. you’re the strongest person i know, baby,” breaking into a sob once he heard his daughter make herself known, staring in awe as she was dried off and placed onto your chest for skin-to-skin, snuggled underneath a warm blanket.

the following day, she was introduced to the world. swaddled safely and tenderly in what looked to be the softest blanket ever stitched, her small face and full head of hair painted the nation’s landmarks in a celebratory shade of pink once more. initially held in your arms, you and seunghyun stepped out of the hospital wing to rapturous celebration when those doors opened. it took on an entirely different, almost awestruck tone when you came into view, descending down those few steps with his hand carressing your lower back. in your time as a public figure and dutiful worker under the crown, you had never heard camera shutters go off so fast. you carefully handed her off to her father, the both of you approaching reporters side by side after giving each other a quick nod—a coordinated team effort. “she’s thankfully got her looks,” seunghyun spoke with a smile, letting out a laugh at your playful scoff, your own beautiful smile adorning your face. “well, i don’t know about that.” you chuckled. “seunghyun was actually the one who changed the first diaper!” you answered another reporter’s question with glee, hands instinctually re-tucking the blanket after a small gust of wind flew by.

figuring out parenthood, as anticipated, was at a day-by-day basis. you and your husband learned her different cries quickly, and he was a master at holding her securely with one arm by the end of her first month. you were offered nannies as protocol, but turned most of them away, preferring to be hands on as much as you could before your maternity leave ended, ushering you back into your duties. there were patterns in your daughter’s behavior, but if anything new came up, it was a quick call to action from both her mother and father. she traveled with you once she was old enough and given the all-clear by the family pediatrician—a break from antiquated tradition seunghyun was more than happy to break from, doting on his seven month old as she had her tummy time on a pull-out bed aboard the royal jet. My daughter won’t spent her most important developing years wondering where her parents are like her father did, seunghyun wrote in his diary. I was taught an at early age that my parents were busy. They were, and for good reason. But a child is a child. And sometimes, I just wanted my mother.

once she started walking, it was tough for either of you to catch up with those small legs—numerous accounts reported in the papers of people seeing you and seunghyun in the park, tuckered out by your toddler’s antics before strategically ambushing her by a picnic table, seunghyun scooping her into his arms; photos taken at the annual palace garden party hosting dignitaries and political leaders alike, the future queen scuttling quickly across the green grass meadow towards an archway decorated with multi-colored balloons whilst her parents, the heirs to the throne, just let her have her way at some point; paparazzi capturing you and seunghyun on an afternoon walk outside of your residence, clad in puffer jackets, sunglasses, and baseball caps as he pushed your sleepy daughter in her stroller. the world’s reception to you as parents was thankfully very supportive and understanding, as any parent would empathize the uncertainty that came to doing this for the first time, and on a global stage, for that matter.

your subtly unconventional approaches to what is historically practiced by the royal family routinely littered the papers, starting with the outfits you wore when you introduced your daughter to the world: a light sweater, trousers, and loafers. seunghyun wore something similar, although he had adidas trainers on. critics pointed to how royals, including seunghyun’s close relatives, donned dresses and suits when first introducing their children. to you, personally, that was outrageous and not on the table whatsoever. “to each their own,” you told seunghyun in your hospital room, gearing up for the press call after your hair was washed by a midwife you will never forget. “but i would rather not be grimacing at my heels pinching my feet as i hold the most precious cargo i could ever bear.” some part of it worked in your favor (“as always,” particularly aggrieved palace personnel would begrudgingly acknowledge) optics wise, mostly with fellow mothers: I see myself in you, a young mother of two wrote to you when your daughter was four months old. We know what that pain feels like and what it can do to our bodies. To hell with people who want us to perform.

your daughter started needing personal space at three-years-old, nudging herself off her father to have her feet on the sidewalk, holding his hand as he led her into the hospital wing to meet her baby sister. “wave to them, my love.” he told her gently, gesturing to the crowd with a flick of his head. “go on.” a smile stretched across his mouth when her palm shook in the air for a brief moment, unable to help his leaning down and pressing a kiss onto her face. your daughters were a dynamic duo if you’ve ever seen one: the youngest demanding with her limited rolodex of words that she also come to send off her older sister to her first day of kindergarten; shy, yet coordinated funny faces to cameras on the handful of royal engagements you brought them on throughout their childhood; seunghyun and you caught comedically off guard when you pointed out their grandfather in the crowd of a tennis tournament, seeing your eldest tap your youngest on the shoulder before both of them stuck out their tongues; or the paparazzi photo that sealed the belief of you being a tight-knit family: your six-year-old asleep on your husband’s chest, your nine-year-old sat in the middle seat and dozed off on your shoulder, either parent getting much needed shut-eye after a long two weeks of summertime travel, safe in the confines of the rolls royce about to leave the airport tarmac.

you took the babies to disney world when they were fifteen and twelve, respectively. despite having bodyguards, cameras following you, and eyes of strangers lingering at all times, you wanted to give them a normal childhood as much as you possibly could. you stood in lines for rides and food, dressed in light jackets and stylish sneakers—enjoying your vacation like other families. you got onto whatever your children desired, starting the day with you and seunghyun playing a quick match of rock-papers-scissors since the kids wanted to go on different rides, and either of you found yourself aligned with either of them. he ended up winning, but you got your reward later that afternoon on a water ride, laughing with unabashed joy at the sight of your soaked husband sat in a different car, as there wasn’t enough seats to fit him in with you and your daughters, sending him humorously to sit with the bodyguards. he didn't hide his chuckle when your eldest pulled you towards the drop tower shortly before leaving the amusement park in the evening, overhearing your “i don’t know if i have the heart anymore for that, baby,” before standing in line without further protest. the photos from this day didn’t leave the papers for weeks.

seunghyun sat comfortably in his seat on the royal jet. he looked to you sat across from him, his darling wife of nearly two decades, fast asleep with your arms crossed over your chest. a bracelet your youngest daughter—now fifteen years old—made for you poked out of the sleeve of your windbreaker; blue and silver beads adorning your wrist. your silvering hair glistened in the peeks of sunlight funneling through the plane window; smile lines evidence of a life lived with transparent and unapologetic emotion. you were still a princess and seunghyun a prince, protocols for his coronation—whenever that day would come—long known for you since your engagement, and him since his sentience. perhaps it was only a matter of time before that day came, but for now, you lived and served as you knew how. he’s grown with his work, finally able to integrate his academics and interests into his life as a royal—serving on the board for the country's national art archive. you have a surplus of engagements, as does seunghyun, mainly ranging charity and non-profit related endeavors closely similar to the work you did before becoming a royal.

it was a physically and emotionally exhaustive last few days. you and seunghyun helped your eldest, now eighteen, move into her dorm and settle in at oxford before term started later that week. your youngest currently resented you two for her not being able to come due to her third year at preparatory school beginning earlier than her sister’s university start-date, but you and seunghyun would address that when she visited home next weekend. your youngest’s school was much closer to home and less strict than seunghyun’s was when he was her age. he’s always the first to greet her at the door with a kiss and hug when she came home every other weekend, making sure the chefs prepare her favorite dishes and receive shipments of the palace’s tangerines in time as she’s always been fond of them.

seunghyun unzipped his bag, pulling out his journal and fountain pen. with a satisfied huff, he turned to the next open page, which was about halfway through. When I was nineteen, with a buzzcut and deeper resentment for my parents than when I was thirteen, I used to often wonder about a different version of my life. If I was born into a different family, or better yet, not the eldest. his crow’s feet crinkled with his amused grin, continuing his scribbles. I wasn’t elected to do my job, but I have to serve nonetheless. Its even more ridiculous that I have to ask someone else to do it with me, as embarrassing and greedy it feels. But when I see my beautiful daughters who are wholly the product of my gracious, intelligent, generous, and indescribably beautiful wife, I cannot help but be selfish. To tell myself I deserve the life I live, that it is not a lottery but a fruit of hidden labor, and I won’t let anyone stop it or even attempt to step in the way of it.

he took a breath. I am able to love because of her. We bicker over what to eat for dinner. I tell her when I don’t like her dress, and she tells me when she doesn’t like my tie. My daughters make fun of my shoes and scurry away embarrassed when I drop them off at school playing my cassettes. The love of my life knows me, and I know her. I couldn’t ask for anything better. For the first time in my life, I have made peace with my fate of duty. I do not have to pretend to be happy, for I am so lucky to have a beating heart.

honey's tag list! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf, @infinetlyforgotten, @mesopotamism, @riddlerloveb0t, @pepsicolapussi, @breakmeoff

[huckleberrykai]

⋆౨ৎ˚ tomorrow x together masterlist ⟡˖ ࣪

by huckleberrykai :3

last updated: 11.5.25 requests? open! 🎀 = authors' favs!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ot5 headcannons + minifics <3

➵ crush crush crush ~ [what are they like when they have a crush on you?]

➵ our song ~ [mini scenarios based on taylor swift lyrics!]

➵ let's dance the night away ~ [prom with our fav boys!]

➵ call me baby ~ [nicknames you give them!]

➵ there's food at home ~ [txt as dads!]

➵ why's it spicy? ~ [txt vs your plumping lip gloss]

➵ squish ~ [txt reacting to their chubby gf in a tight outfit]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi yeonjun (๑>◡<๑)

➵ lost ~ [when yeonjun finds a lost child in the park while trying to clear his head, he goes on a quest to find her mom.]

➵ found ~ [after that day in the park, yeonjun decides he wants to keep you both around for a long time. - part 2 to lost!]

➵ i did something bad ~ [if you're on opposite sides, then why does it feel so good to be with him? - mafia au]

➵ dance with me ~ [trying to confess to your dance class partner on valentines day is more overwhelming than you originally thought.]

➵ are you still watching? ~ [after a long tour away from his baby, yeonjun doesn't wanna pay attention to the netflix show you were watching. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ picturesque ~ [you go on a cute date with your boyfriend, who just so happened to bring his new camera.]

➵ 🎀 never been kissed ~ [your new boyfriend just wants some smooches, but you aren't sure how to tell him you've never been kissed.]

➵ comfy cozy ~ [yeonjun gets a little handsy when you surprise him with an early autumn cozy getaway for his birthday. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi soobin (..◜ᴗ◝..)

➵ sacrifice ~ [you spill a drink on a very pretty man in a club ~ inspired by sacrifice by bebe rexha]

➵ superstar ~ [when soobin gets the opportunity to work with you, he can't help but feel nervous.]

➵ birthday bunny ~ [just two tired horny lovers messily helping each other out. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ 🎀 fight for you ~ [on your 21st birthday coronation day, you finally get to meet the knight you've been admiring for so long.]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 choi beomgyu (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

➵ 🎀 not so secret ~ [secretly dating someone in a house of six people isn't easy - especially when you wander out of his bedroom wearing nothing but his shirt.]

➵ call it what you want ~ [when you and beomgyu start dating, you aren't sure how to tell your brother soobin.]

➵ i wouldn't ask you to take care of me ~ [after returning from your honeymoon, you already have to put your vows to the test.]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 kang taehyun (˶˃⤙˂˶)

➵ 🎀 tae-tok [when your boyfriend is always touring or busy, you settle for the next best thing. tiktok boyfriend edits that his fans make.]

➵ the virtue's in the verse ~ [you become a secret admirer to the boy who never responds to your flirts]

➵ missing you ~ [taehyun wanted to surprise you by coming home early, but it turns out he got home just in time. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 huening kai (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

➵ here's to teenage memories ~ [you meet a cute boy on vacation ~ inspired by kiss me kiss me by 5SOS <3]

➵ i thought we were in love already? ~ [kai tries to think of ways to get you to like him, unbeknownst to him you've been in love with him the whole time.]

➵ you smell nice ~ [kai notices his hoodies going missing, and it isn't until he visits your apartment to stay for the weekend that he realises where they all went.]

➵ 🎀 toaster strudel ~ [kai wants to frost his favourite pastry before he eats it <3 - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ pizza lover ~ [sick of playing cat and dog, kai gives you a little push to cross the barrier of best friends to more <3]

➵ can't keep my hands to myself ~ [your first time with your sweet boyfriend who can't help but think about your pretty hands - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ cat and dog ~ [despite being so different, your friends think your black cat and golden retriever dynamic with your boyfriend is adorable.]

➵ memories ~ [of course being best friends with your boyfriend's sister means premium access to his childhood videos.]

➵ video games ~ [gamer bf!kai x sanrio gf!reader ~ headcanons and texts]

➵ all mine ~ [kai never considered himself the jealous type. not until he met you.]

➵ 🎀 laundry basket ~ [when kai finds his sweet precious girl with his dirty shirt in her face and her hand down her pants he has to teach her a lesson. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

send an ask if you'd like to join my taglist! pls specify sfw/nsfw or both! :3

[sosadraws]

SOSA CONSIDER THIS AN INVITATION TO YAP ABOUT IRENE. WHO IS THIS MYSTERIOUS AND WONDERFUL ADLER THATS A FRIEND OF LUCHS!!

Hey Lynx! sorry for the lateness. By the time I finished drawing and started writing I had a “suddenly forgot everything about the character” moment, but here we go anyways!:

Alright so this woman, alongside two kolibris (Westen and Alan, her husband) long time ago fled her facility after potentially killing their Falke unit after a series of escalations that came from Alan's potential decommission. They stumble on what seemed to be an imperial military base that got partially destroyed an abandoned (not totally true, an Ara had found it first, but they sorted it o peacefully), they settled there and that place eventually became the shelter where all my persona degraded replikas en up going.

Irene's love for creative stuff comes from her finding administrative duties painfully boring, but also having a constant need to do things. At first she would write microfiction as a way to vent, but later she would get invested in them, which lead to her starting drawing in order to help her visualize scenes and so on. In typical adler fashion, she gets bored easily, so she rotates between multiple projects to keep things fresh (in a modern AU she would be the type of artist that has a folder with like +100 wips and it's working on all of them simultaneously).

After being considered for so long “the spare Adler unit” of her own facility, Irene developed an inferiority complex as well as self-sabotaging tendencies and a need for other's approval (I could write a testament about this as well as the other adler, but that's a topic for another day). By now she’s very self aware of this so she tries to keep her emotions in check (to mostly positive results), but it’s a constant struggle between being a rational being vs the need to bitch over the pettiest things.

Despite having very different personalities (guy that is friendly (if also a little smug and unsettling) that loves fucking around with others vs woman that is reserved, serious and has a trouble connecting with others), Alan and Irene compliment each other quite nicely. Alan does this thing where he says some out-of-pocket shit (something something "never let them guess your next move"), but Irene takes it seriously and it leads to either some banter between them or actual debating about the weirdest of topics. They also share a love for reading and Alan makes ground Irene when she starts ruminating (cofcof also Irene has a thing for biorenonance cofcof). They have A LOT of story together, but again, that's a topic for another day.

Side note, but despite calling each other "husband" and "wife", technically they're actually fiancés. Alan would like to do a little ceremony but Irene feels the time isn't right yet.

Now, when it comes lo Luchs:

When Echo first arrived at the shelter, she was horrified to find out that the replikas that helped her (Alan and Westen) were kolibris (imagine that you're really wounded from falling from a cliff, you get rescued by the mind police and they could find out about your very bad and illegal thoughts). Despite their best attempts to calm her, she ended up more distressed about it, so Irene took it to herself to undo her (back then) boyfriend's wrongdoing. Irene had a gentler approach by mostly giving her space but also every once in a while checking up that she's doing fine. At first Echo was wary of her, but eventually she trusted her enough that when she decided she has going to stay, she stuck mostly by her side, being Irene akin to a big sister for her.

The friendship that she has with Luchs it’s a very introvert/introvert dynamic, in the sense that they can happily hang out in silence, each other doing their thing (sometimes when Luchs is feeling low on on energy, she goes to watch Irene draw, it’s kinda like irl ASMR). Due to this they tend to stick together during social gatherings.

When Luchs goes out to do some bird watching she makes sure to look out for things that Irene might like, such as feathers, some types of rocks and animal bones which BY THE WAY, the whole arm tattoo thing started because Luchs offered her a reindeer skull that Irene plans to use for practicing wood burning. Luchs has yet to deliver (she accidentally keeps breaking them or the antlers).

So yeah, they have each other. Luchs brings company and is non judgamental with Irene, and Irene gives relationship advice when she starts very angsty about Charlie or lends an ear when Luchs wants to vent.

Bonus random facts:

I didn't get to draw it, but her neutral face looks like a mix of sadness and disappointment. She's aware of this, so she prefers to smile when talking to others.

She's great at math. It probably has to do with the fact that she was built to do administrative duties that often requires doing lots of calculations. That doesn't stop her from boasting about it tho.

She has written a horror novel. If you ask nicely enough she might lend it to you to read, apparently it's quite good.

You know how some people count sheep to fall asleep? She makes spreadsheets in her mind. About what? literally anything!

The concept of Irene has existed on my mind for a while (almost since the conception of Luchs), but Irene being Irene is something relatively recent (since I drew that one headshot). I've decided that it also applies in-universe which is why without makeup or her trenchcoat she looks like a standard Adler unit.

This

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: friday!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You are summoned to the queen’s chambers shortly after your arrival. You come together with the other young ladies from courtyard in the corridor just before a set of painted doors. Within, Queen Margaret keeps court with her ladies, of whom you are to be one of. The thought alone has you devilishly unnerved. 

The guards in their livery greet you with dull eyes. The groom announces your purpose and receives little in return aside from the one soldier’s lazy reach to tap upon the door. He lifts the lever and eases a space between the wood. 

“Your highness, you’ve some ladies requesting an audience,” he drones through. 

There is some movement from within. A lady servant appears in her white cap and beckons you inward. You are further intimidated by the formality of it all. Marcia and Marigold rush ahead to be first and the three earls’ daughters from the White Plans take up their train. You glance over at Calliope and trail after her. 

The doors shut at your back and the lady maid retreats, her soles scuffing amid the murmur around you. You look around the skirts of the other debuts and see women in recline, others perched upon cushions and stools, all at leisure with needle, book, or frame. There is another at the window, sat between two ladies on the bench, the late afternoon breeze stirring the long waves that hang around her face, the rest of her chestnut hair twisted up behind her hood.  

The lady maid stands at the wall in deference, “your highness.” 

The brunette raises her chin and her eyes narrow at the lot of you. You can barely see much past the shoulders of the twins and the other ladies clustered closely in shared apprehension. Still, the twins stand tall and the other ladies hardly seem as wrought as you in the ceremony of it all. 

“The twins of...Mawsley, is it?” The queen declares, “yes, your father proved himself a valuable asset, didn’t he?” 

“Your highness,” the twins recite in unison and bow, “Marcia,” the first introduces herself, “Marigold, the second adds. 

“How keen,” the queen chimes, “you look as the same person. How amusing.” 

“Thank you, your highness,” the sisters chirp. 

“And those gowns, wonderful. I may have to ask after your tailor,” Queen Margaret preens, “and where is the Countess’ daughter? I recall I met you once when you were still a child.” 

Calliope steps dutifully, “my mother sends her regards.” 

“Oh, yes, that poor widow,” the queen bemoans, “she is ever steadfast despite her plight.” She takes pause as you sway to see her, “and the rest of you, forgive me, these last days have been a whirlwind and I’ve heard an endless slew of names one after another. 

“Lady Selene,” the very lady proclaims. 

“Lady Ameri,” she bows in quick succession. 

“Lady Dorida,” the last shows her courtesy in an elegant bend. 

As you come forward, the twins push their arms together as if to block you out with their sleeves. You sidle side to side and sweep around their skirts with an ungraceful stumble, “your highness,” you greet as if you have something stuck in your throat. You swallow before you can muster your own name and title. 

“Woodsdam,” the queen tilts her head and looks from the lady at her left shoulder to the one on her right, “I’ve never heard of it.” 

“Neither have I,” the leftmost agrees. 

“Farmland,” the right says. 

“Yes, your highness, my father is a farmer, but an earl as well,” you supply. 

“Mm,” the queen looks down her nose as her lips thin, “it appears the Woodsdam style is much... defined. I don’t think I’ve seen that style gown since my grandmother was still on earth.” 

You look down at your modest cotton. The square cut of your bodice is much different than the other ladies’ rounded collars. Your mother crafted the dress from pieces and the seams are tidy, yet it does lack a similar flair to the others around the chamber. You raise your eyes and keep your composure as best you can. 

“Many thanks, your highness.” 

The queen scoffs, “quaint, indeed.” She sits straighter though her posture is already unyieldingly staunch, “ladies, please acquaint yourself. And be certain to pay heed to these ladies who know well the ways of court. For all that’s changed in these past years, we will retain as ever our elegance and our etiquette.” 

You peer around, uncertain what comes next. A lady stands and calls to Calliope, “Lady, it is me, Gwendolyn, of the Spades. Near Clovers, you will know it?” 

Calliope accepts the initiation and there is a swift storm of voices swirling around the lot of you. You flutter hopefully that someone might think of Woodsdam or might’ve been to the waterfall near Aquil, not far from your father’s hold. The twins confer still with the queen and her ladies, trilling and giggling, as Serena and Dorida marvel over another ladies’ sewing frame, and Ameri is overly familiar with a lady swollen with child. 

You drift away from the centre of the chamber, trying not to draw unwarranted attention. It would do little for any to note your insignificance. You’ve all to soon faded into obscurity. No one cares for a farmer’s daughter. 

“Eh, do you read?” The question startles you and has you spinning to face its speaker. She looks as she sounds; squawkish. Birdlike. Her blond waves are woven with strands of silver and her hooked nose is not unbecoming. 

“Yes, lady, I do,” you answer, uncertain if she is genuine or she means it as jab. 

“Have you read Corswin? He wrote a fair tale about a shepherdess.” 

“I’ve not heard of him,” you recover your confidence at her interest. It is clear she humours you, that she is speaking to only keep you from floundering. 

“I must lend you a book or two,” she insists, “come sit with me. These old hens grow tiresome.” 

“Many thanks, my lady,” you accept and claim the stool next to her, shifting it closer. 

“Sarah,” she gives her name, “Woodsdam. I’ve never been. I hate the swamps.” 

“Oh,” you nod, “yes, it isn’t very swampy. Only in the rainy seasons but we get the sun.” 

“Mm, still, I’ve been down Ashton and I hated the place. My horses caught some sickness there,” she gripes, “perhaps though, your home is more pleasant. A woman old as me, though, I don’t venture far as it is.” She tuts and taps her oval nails on the book in her lap, “if my son wasn’t so foolish as to take up his sword, I’d still be in my library, hidden away from these chits.” 

You clasp your hands together and smile. She’s amicable and you wouldn’t want to bother too much. She flutters the pages of her book and huffs. You look around, sensing some intrigue from the other ladies though they do their best not to let their flitting eyes be caught. 

“All these birds know how to do is cloister themselves up like nuns,” she bemoans, “I’d as soon be out in the sunlight. If I were home, I’d be in my courtyard with a better book than this,” she wags the volume in agitation, “and you, lady? What is it you do on the farmstead? Chase hens?” 

“We have geese,” you say, “though they aren’t truly kept. They sort’ve linger around. And some cattle.” 

“It does sound rather bucolic, this must be all so drab to you, castle walls and dusty tapestries.” 

“Oh, it’s all so wonderful,” you expound. 

“It is?” She drawls tritely, “aren’t these ladies of ours so polite? The way they whisper about our hems and our titles. Don’t let yourself be fooled, though I suppose that should be as good a warning against myself. Ladies of the court are like crows; the like shiny things and the hold grudges, and sometimes, they needn’t even a reason to peck your eyes out.” 

You close your lips and swallow. Her tidings only underline the unwelcome forged in the queen’s introduction. All you might forgive is at least she seems genuine in her girding. You look down at your skirts and run your fingers down a crease. 

“The dress is not so hideous,” she assures gently, “some of the ladies do forget we did just fight a war. There are those without silks and without food in their bellies. They should weigh their fortune that they are still alive and well.” 

Your eyes meet and she looks a little less stony. She turns her head to the window and her gaze drifts into the distance. You follow them with a sense of solemnity. Again, you snare a few glances from the others. Many men died, women and children too. It wouldn’t do to care so much for what people think of your wardrobe. 

👑

Your first day at the castle ends in a fine supper of freshly baked bread, beef with gravy, and seasoned scallions, onions, and sweet herbs. It is not so hearty as your mother’s stew which you share as often with the servants nor so delicious. It’s a different sort of taste but not unpleasant. 

You retire at the queen’s behest. She declares she must see to her husband and several of the other ladies claim the same of their own. You rise and wait courteously to tail after other ladies, not wanting to get underfoot as you so often did on the farm. As you stand aside, Lady Sarah swats you with her book. 

Skirts swish against the rows of chairs and benches that line the long table. The dining chamber is set with the portrait of peregrine and similarly hawkish depictions woven into tapestry and tablecloth alike. Despite the uniform decor, the furniture is mismatched and the hews of wood and metal alternate with each piece. 

“Don’t fear the stampede, little calf, run with it,” she chides, “ah, I’ve decades upon these sows and they plod like heifers.” 

He uncouth words draw your surprise. She laughs at the look you send her and waves you off with the hardcover. She shoulders past you without pause. 

“One day you will see, it is better to speak the truth than let it shred up your soul,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Ah, naivete, how entertaining you are.” 

Her voice carries and you notice how the other women shy away from her. There’s a glint of deference to the tilt in their chins as they part for her like a like drawn in the sand with a stick. You wonder how she can be so bold and why the other might tolerate it. As Queen Margaret girded, you are to maintain propriety. Sarah seems to carry the same manners as any farmhand you’d known. 

You hurry to meet Calliope near the door as she departs. She seems the tamest of the lot thus far. Sharp-witted but not needlessly cruel. She turns her head slightly in acknowledgement of your presence. 

“There you are,” she mutters. 

“Did you enjoy the afternoon?” You ask brightly. 

“Enjoy? I tempered it,” she retorts, “I’ve the measure of most ladies.” 

“The measure? They were all quite friendly.” 

“You are too friendly,” she admonishes, “this is court, you cannot be so simple. Each lady is attached to a lord, thus they work upon his purposes. Her ears are always listening, eyes always seeing.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You represent your father and though mine may be in the ground, I carry his mantle all the same. We are our houses, not ourselves here,” she keeps her voice low and slows markedly to keep away from the others, “you should count yourself fortunate for my wise counsel, lady, for no other would give it.” 

You chew on her words, tasting their bitterness, “so why do you, Lady Calliope?” 

“For I despise those twins and I know they aren’t so keen on you,” she sighs, “and I saw you as any other did with the dowager.” 

“The dowager?” You echo. 

“The king’s mother, Lady Sarah,” she sends you a sharp look, “don’t tell me you didn’t realise?” 

“Oh? No? She spoke of books and her gardens, she didn’t mention...” you peter off and snap your mouth shut. But she had, she did say her son ran off to war. “Oh!” 

“Oh! Indeed,” Calliope mocks and shakes her head. “Look, I’ve not the patience for these women, but you’re not so bad. You don’t speak without meaning. Shall we be companions?” 

“Pardon?” You let your surprise bleed through. 

“I need at least one person I might stomach, how about you? I don’t think the others are so eager to be friends. Marcia did say how you look like a peasant.” 

“She did?” You frown. 

“Hm, you need me,” she insists, “you can’t let yourself be so whimsical. Never mind what they say or think. What do they care so much for anyhow? They are a duke’s daughters, they will do well enough.” 

You carry on next to her. You feel as if you’re being pulled in all different directions though all tell you just the same. Be wary 

[spnjediavenger]

Order and Chaos (matt murdock x sister!reader)

Title: Order and Chaos

Type: one-shot; matt murdock x sister!reader

Warnings: couple swear words, person being rude to Matt (insensitive to blindness; didn’t know any cliches or derogatory things thankfully so i had to look up what to say. Just needed it for an idea. You’ll see what i mean), kind of au with Nelson & Murdock and Karen knowing Matt’s secret?, implied sex between Foggy and Marci

Spoilers: none?

Notes: another request! I'm so honored yall!

For the anon that requested: i didn't go super goth cuz im not 100% comfortable/knowledgeable about such things but i hope i did your request justice!

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged! (As are requests!)

Disclaimers: i do not own daredevil, its characters, or plot

Request: Ok hear me out, Matt X sister reader, but she’s like super goth, I’m talking piercings, tattoos, very upfront and blunt. (She is who I want to be) total opposite of her brother which makes their dynamic that much more funny cause no one understands how they could possibly be related let alone be besties.  And just like scenarios in which they are a dynamic duo despite how different they are. I just imagine her getting a new piercing or tattoo and he’s like “dude I can smell the ink/sore skin how are you not covered by now”. Lmao

Word count: 1181

Yin and yang. Fire and water. Light and dark. Order and chaos. 

Y/n and Matt Murdock were both many things. But similar was not one of them. Sure, they both had a love for those close to them and they were good people. They both had a sturdy head on their shoulders and could stand up for themselves. But that’s really where the similarities ended. 

Matt was a lawyer - Y/n was going to school for journalism. Matt often wore suits when he was out - Y/n favored relaxed, baggier clothes. Matt meditated and did research - Y/n listened to rock and heavy metal. Though Matt had scars littering his body, the rest of it was clear - Y/n seemed to be on a journey to cover herself head to toe in tattoos. While Matt could be a smart ass when he wanted to be, Y/n openly said whatever she wanted - often to ehr detriment. Matt tended to be more analytical - Y/n was a bit of a hot head.

Those things aside, the two siblings loved each other and got along better than anyone. The whole ‘opposites attract’ thing was usually geared towards romantic relationships but it seemed to be perfectly true in the familial sense in this case too.

Y/n would often visit the office of Murdock & Nelson between her classes. If Foggy or, more likely Karen, texted her that it was going to be a long day, Y/n would stop and get coffee for the trio on her way.

Cup holder in hand, she jogged up the steps to their office. She opened the door with one hand, balancing the cups in the other. “Your salvation has arrived!” she called, closing the door behind her.

“If it isn’t our very own Wednesday Addams!” Foggy said, holding his hands up before bowing. “We are eternally in your debt, my lady.”

Y/n chuckled and smirked and handed him a coffee. “I may look the part but I smile too much to be an Addams.” 

“She is pale enough though,” Matt added with a mischievous grin, plucking his own drink from the carrier and placing a kiss to the side of his sister’s head. “Though she has enough ink to make that questionable,” he added.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, pushing his shoulder a bit. “Actually, speaking of which,” she said, turning to hand Karen her drink, then back to Matt. “I have another appointment on friday and I want you to come.”

Matt raised his brow. “Another one? How are you not completely covered by now?” he chuckled.

Y/n smirked as she finished her drink, dropping the empty cup in the garbage, and kissed Matt’s cheek. “Better to have artwork instead of bruises, Daredevil,” she called over her shoulder as she left the office.

Karen threw a hand up to conceal her shocked chuckle but Foggy openly laughed at his friend’s expense. 

Though he knew Y/n was too far away to hear him, he said, “Touche.”

Friday came quickly and Matt and Foggy walked the streets of Hell’s Kitchen with Y/n after they finished work for the day. Foggy was going to split after her appointment but decided to walk to the tattoo parlor with them since it was near his weekend destination. He pulled his phone out for the third time on their walk.

“It was nice of you to walk with us, Foggy,” Y/n said. “Even though it’s out of the way of your apartment,” she continued, feigning innocence.

Foggy, who was pulling up the rear of the trio, shrugged as he put his phone back in his pocket. “Like I’d ever miss a chance to see our queen of darkness get some new ink.”

“Not sure how you plan on seeing it when you have your nose in your phone the whole time,” Matt commented, biting back a smile.

“Ok, you need to stop listening to my movements,” Foggy said, exasperated.

“He doesn’t need to listen to your movements to know you’re texting your weekend booty call,” Y/n smirked.

“Yeah, how is Marci? Assuming you guys take time to actually talk between your…activities.”

Y/n spit out her water, stopping in her tracks to laugh along with Matt, high-fiving him when she saw Foggy’s face reddening. The Murdocks’ ability to easily riff off one another sometimes astounded even themselves.

“Yeah yeah, very cute, dynamic duo,” Foggy said under his breath.

Before anyone could say anything else, a man walked between them, glancing unkindly at Matt.

“Watch it, cane-tapper,” the man said, roughly brushing past Matt and pushing his cane out of his way.

Y/n’s eyes immediately widened and her nostrils flared as she glared after the man, taking a hot step forward to go after him but Matt raised his cane in front of her chest to keep her from doing so.

“Don’t,” he said. “It’s not worth it.”

Y/n turned hotly and looked at him, confused but still heated. “Matt! You can’t just let that dick talk to you like that!”

“Y/n, no.”

“But-”

“No.”

Y/n huffed and her shoulders slumped. She speed-walked in the direction they were headed in the first place, not waiting for Matt since she knew he could find the way without her.

Matt, on the other hand, chuckled and shook his head before following after her.

“Seriously,” Foggy said, slight fear lacing his features at Y/n’s 360 change in demeanor as he walked with Matt. “I have no idea how you two are related.”

Matt chuckled again, simply walking on towards the tattoo place.

Out of all the tattoo appointments Matt and Foggy went to with Y/n, this one was probably the shortest. Neither of the men looked as it was being done, just conversed with Y/n as they all waited. When the artist was finished, Y/n got up from her seat, turned in front of the mirror at the new tattoo on her left shoulder, and smiled. 

She turned towards her brother and friend. “Foggy?” she said, showing him.

The man smiled as he saw the image then looked her in the eyes. “I think it’s perfect, kiddo. Best one yet.”

Once the tattoo artist left, Y/n pulled Matt’s hand to the area, letting him gently brush his fingers over the image. He focused on the risen skin under his fingertips, where the edges began and ended, the corners of his lips turning up as he felt the outline of his Daredevil helmet. He couldn’t help but chuckle and full-on grin as he shook his head in slight disbelief.

Y/n smiled back. “Well? What do you think?”

Matt raised his blind gaze higher towards her face. “I think Foggy’s right. Best one yet.” He gently held her face and dropped a kiss to her head, wrapping her in a tight hug after. He and Y/n may not have had a lot of things in common. But one thing they did share was their love for one another.

[waayoutofline]

Murder On The Dance Floor (part 1)

(from the When the Cat and the Mouse Go For a Midnight Dance series) | Part 1 | Part 2| Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Prompt: Vigilante!Reader x Agent!Natasha

Summary: Natasha isn’t having the best of luck in trying to bring one of the ex Hydras general down. You however may be able to assist her. Will you two be able to cooperate? Or is it your fate to always stand on opposite teams?

Warnings: None in this chapter.

WORD COUNT: 2510 (give or take)

A/N: Hello!! So, this is heavily inspired by the song Murder on the Dance Floor (duh). I think it really suits the dynamic between Agent Natasha and Vigilante!Reader, and I thought, okay, let’s actually write it instead of just thinking about it and eventually forgetting. There are a few changes from the canon universe. In this AU, the Avengers didn’t separate after the Sokovia Accords (I’m a child of divorce, okay), so they’re a real family here. Peter is also part of the team and was never forgotten by every single human except, well Hulk (he deserves better). Natasha is alive and well, along with Yelena.And finally (last thing, I promise), this will be part of a mini-series. Maybe with three parts.That’s about it. Enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)

//

It was too late to do this. Natasha rubbed off the tiredness of her eyes for what must be the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. This was getting ridiculous.

”…What if-“

“For the last Yelena, we are not committing arson.” The blonde grunted at the quick dismissal, sliding down the synthetic, black leather chair. Crossing her arms with a tired pout, she didnt look much to different from the six year old girl Natahsa remembered. The clock in the conference room is getting more obnoxious by the second, as if teasing them to not having an answer yet.

Across the room, the sulked eyes of Benjamin Horvat were looking right back at her. His picture was poorly pinned, hanging unconventionally by a small blade (courtesy of Yelena) on the board. Steve wont be happy when he sees it.

”It would be a small one! It wouldn’t be that hard, just some small fires around some of his clubs, see if there is any luck and make him come out. Quick and subtle.”

”There is nothing subtle in that plan Yelena.” Natahsa turns down again dryly.

It’s been six hours since Yelena payed a visit to the renovated compound, bringing her 5 month old puppy Fanny (which is currently being spoiled by Wanda and Peter). She came in with new dirt onto a possible Hydra ex-officer, one of a depressing long list that the team has yet to tackle down. Most of them ran when SHIELD fell down.

The two of them plus Steve and Bucky, managed to get intel on Benjamin’s Horvat. He was currently involved is some kind of shady precious gem business, along owning some expensive clubs that served as covers for the mafia. At first glance, you’d say that he was just another second class criminal. But that as far as aparences went. Because people like him were worth something, he was heavily guarded.

His intel was precious enough to make him valuable and well-protected. Access to him seemed almost impossible.

The worst part was that he didn’t even bother using conventional transport. Even after combing through all national surveillance, he didn’t appear on any of the cameras. Not even Redwing, Sam’s beloved drone, had managed to get a clear visual of him. It was almost as if he’d gone underground (which he hadn’t—Natasha checked). And despite his love for nightlife, the clubs he owned and frequented were highly exclusive, each with multiple layers of security clearance.

After a long evening, both Steve and Bucky called it a night, but the two sisters were too stubborn to let it go. They were both running out of ideas—or, in Yelena’s case, running through a list of increasingly dangerous, borderline illegal suggestions. Eventually, exhaustion began to take over, and the blonde started dozing off, her head slipping forward as sleep crept up on her. Natasha wasn’t far behind, her eyelids drooping as the hours dragged on.

But then—a sharp, static crackle echoed through the speakers, jolting both women awake. Instinctively, they snapped into defensive stances, eyes darting to the screens around the room as they flickered in a disorienting pattern of black and white, struggling to stabilize.

Finally, the screens gave a clear image, revealing a shadowy figure cloaked in darkness.

“Night, ladies! Glad to see you’re still awake,” a teasing, lilting voice echoed through the speakers. “Huh, take out from Luigi’s huh? Their pizza rolls are to die for.”

Natasha’s eyes widened, a flicker of recognition sparking across her face. Her posture shifted, shoulders squaring as an unconscious surge of energy overtook her weariness. It can’t be.

“I’d prefer pizza bites. Who are you?” Yelena asked, mirroring Natasha as she stood up. She’d clearly sensed the change in Natasha’s demeanor.

The redhead grabbed the tablet on the table next to her, attempting to trace the breach, but the system was completely overridden. Whoever this was shouldn’t have been able to slip past their security. She called for FRIDAY, but the AI didn’t respond.

“Aw, come on, not even a hello? Do you know how long I spent trying to surpass that stupid robot of yours?” the voice continued playfully. “It’s been a while, Natty. I thought you’d be glad to see me—or, well, hear me.”

Natasha’s face remained painfully stoic, but her white-knuckled grip on the tablet betrayed her turmoil. She knew this person loved theatrics, but even for them, this was going too far. “How many times have I told you not to call me that.” Natasha grunts in annoyance, a headache already starting to set in. There is a brief silence. She can practically see your pout from here.

“Geez, so grumpy.”

Yelena watches the exchange with curiosity, somehow not detecting a real threat. “I sense some... history here.”

“There is!”

“There is not!”

Both women snapped at Yelena, making her eyes widen as she instinctively stepped back, lifting her hands in mock surrender. “Ha, when you say that, it usually means there is…” she stated, amused.But the sentence died under Natasha’s withering stare. “Alright, just an observation. Geez, you are grumpy.” she muttered under her breath. Catching Natasha’s warning look, Yelena slid back into the chair, still grinning despite herself.

“Can we focus?” Natasha said, voice clipped.

Yelena just shrugged, casting a glance between the two of you.

“Oh, come on, don’t get shy on me, Agent Romanoff. Is it because we haven’t had our little “I run, you go after me” sessions recently?” You teased. “I promise, you’re the only one I let chase after me.”

It’s true that its been a while since you have gone under the radar. Even if you weren’t out committing your little revendouz vigilantes acts, Natasha still couldn’t help to keep an eye out for you. It wouldn’t be the first time that you took a mini sabbatical and returned with more messes for her to clean up.

Finally, from the shadows, a woman stepped a young woman, posture relaxed, radiating an air of practiced confidence. You wore your typical casual clothes, a fitted jacket and a crop under it. Your face was partially obscured by the lighting, but Natasha could see a few loose strands of hair escaping, catching faintly in the room’s dim light. Chest rising up and down rather fastly. It’s like you just returned from somewhere.

Your eyes, bright yet focused, lingered on Natasha with an amused glint. The faintest smirk played at the corner of your mouth, an expression that made Natasha feel strangely restless. There was something in that permanent look of yours that always kept her on edge.

“Who are you?” Yelena blurted out.

You gasped dramatically, resting a hand on your chest as if genuinely wounded. “Why, you hurt me, Agent! Didn’t you tell her anything about me? And here I was, starting to think that I meant something to you.”

Natasha sighed in exasperation, her gaze still scanning for any sign of how you managed to break in. But it was as if you’d been authorized from the inside. She knew you were good, hidden behind that playful demeanor, but it was exhausting how you always seemed one step ahead. “There’s nothing to tell,” Natasha replied curtly, “besides the fact that you’re a pain.”

You huffed in false offender , crossing your arms. “Archenemies would have sufficed. Besides, that is no way to greet someone who can help you with Horvat.”

Both of them froze at the name. Giving up, the redhead throws the device on the table, getting slightly closer to the TV and crossing her arms. If this was going where she thought it was, caution was very much need. Especially with you.

“A little…birdie, told me that we have, for once, a common enemy. Excluding each other of course.” You smiled at the last sentence, but your eyes were bright with a dangerous spark.

“He’s not as unreachable as you may think. I guess that by now you have figured that he frequents the nightclubs in the Lower East Side. He is supposed to assist to an event tomorrow at night. Just our luck, right?”

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “Our? What, exactly, do you want with Horvat? Did he make it onto your little blacklist?” She scowled, still irritated by the last man you’d managed to eliminate right under her nose.

As if reading her thoughts, you let out a light, teasing laugh. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t exactly call it little,” you said, an amused glint in your eye.

Natasha huffed under her breath, visibly displeased with your evasiveness. “What’s in it for you?”

Your smile faded just slightly, and for a moment, a flicker of real purpose showed through the facade. “Let’s just say he has something I need. Something personal.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her suspicion unwavering. “And how in the world would you ever entertain the thought of me agreeing to work together?”

“Because you’re stuck,” you shot back, your voice sharper than usual. “Let’s be real, Romanoff—if I could do this alone, I wouldn’t be here. But not even you can’t get to him on your own. And…neither can I.” You admitted through your teeth. The playful glint softened, replaced by an intensity Natasha hadn’t quite seen from you before.

“I need someone who won’t mess it up if I’m going to get to him,” you continued, the amused mask slipping just a bit more. “That’s where you come in. I mean, who better to handle some undercover work than the Black Widow herself?” The slight provocation didn’t go unnoticed, but Natasha’s mind was already racing with possibilities.

The room fell into silence, the ticking clock on the wall seeming louder than ever as Natasha’s eyes bore into yours, as if trying to see every hidden motive. Perhaps she should just go fetch Wanda. Still, she held herself steady, determined to avoid letting any trace of intrigue slip. It only took a spark for you to create a fire.

Yelena, sensing the tension between the two of you growing sharper by the second, finally cut in, a note of exasperation in her voice. “So… how could you get us in—”

“Yelena, no.” Natasha cut her off sharply, her posture rigid and unyielding. “We are not entertaining this. And I’m certainly not working with her,” she added, the cold in her tone unmistakable. She turned her gaze back to you, her expression filled with deep distrust. “She does nothing but trick and deceive, and I’m not about to let her pull us into a mess.”

You held her gaze steadily, a flicker of hurt passing through your eyes—brief enough for Natasha to notice. She shook her head sturborling, she couldn’t afford to feel any remorse for you. But as quickly as the emotion came, it vanished, and you rolled your eyes playfully. That was something that sparked Natasha’s curiosity. Just like herself in the past (maybe still now at times) it seemed as if you had a mask. She didn’t know exactly how genuine that unserious facade, the one you always seemed to hide behind, truly was.

“So distrustful and uptight as always, I see. Tell me, has she always been this way?” you asked, looking at the blonde. Yelena shrugged, starting to answer but clamping her mouth shut as Natasha arched an eyebrow in warning.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about this either. But it’s the only way. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think so,” you said, your tone uncharacteristically steady. “I’ll even compromise and act like one of your ‘goody-two-shoes’ heroes.” You almost gagged on the words. “Swear I’ll play by your rules, as long as it gets us to him. If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I don’t lie. Have I ever lied to you, Natasha?”

There was no mockery in your voice this time, just an unexpected sincerity. Natasha paused, caught off guard. Had you deceived her? Absolutely. Tricked her? Too many times to count, wounding her pride each time. But lied, outright and blankly, right to her face? As shocking as it was, she couldn’t recall a single instance. No matter the game, you’d always been blunt about what you were going to do.

Yelena, noticing Natasha’s hesitation, leaned in. “сестра (sister), maybe… maybe she has a point. We’re no closer to him on our own. And if she can get us in…”

Natasha looked at her, seeing the reason in her words, though every fiber of her instinct fought against trusting you. After a long pause, she rubbed her temples, exhaling heavily. As sad as it was, there wasn’t any better option. But to admit that she had no other option than to work with you, of all people, was burning her pride.

“Fine.”

Yelena gave a small fist pump of victory, relief lighting her face after the hours they’d spent trying to come up with a solid plan. Meanwhile, you grinned, satisfaction gleaming in your eyes.

“But—” Natasha cut in, fixing you with a hard look. “No tricks, no double-crossing. As you said before, do this by my rules, is that clear?”

You raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of your usual defiance flashing in your expression. “Well, I mean… it is my plan so technically—”

“My. Rules.” Natasha repeated, her voice dropping to a dangerously low tone that left little room for argument. Her stare bore into you, unyielding, and the confidence in your face faltered just a bit. “Understood?”

You swallowed, any spark of rebellion snuffed out under the intimidating weight of her gaze. “Understood,” you muttered, a hint of surprising, begrudging compliance in your tone.

“Oooh, scary mean glare,” Yelena muttered under her breath, clearly entertained as she watched you two bickering. A mischievous glint in her eye, she leaned back, curious to see how will play out between you two. Perhaps she should pay visits more often.

“Enlighten us, then. What in the world does this great plan, legal plan of yours involve?” Natasha inquires dryly. Another cheeky grin on your face was enough for her to know that she won't like it in the slightest. It was almost sinister, how much you enjoyed to push her bottons.

”Well…that answer can vary. How are your dance moves, Agent Romanoff?

Clearly baffled, she didnt have time to answer when someone blasted through the door, startling all three of you. “You! Are you the one you hacked FRIDAY?” demanded a frantic Tony Stark, dressed in Iron Man-themed pajamas, bags under his eyes and a steaming coffee pot in hand labeled “#1 Best Hero” (a gift from Peter). Honestly, Natahsa is a firm believer that he bought it himself but whatever.

You giggled almost manically. “Oops, that’s my cue! Talk to you later to get into details, Agent.” You practically purred, teasingly waving goodbye before cutting the connection in one swift motion. Natasha was met with her reflection on the now dark screen, your last words hanging heavily on the air.

Natasha drops on the chair heavily, grunting and rubbing her temples while looking at the roof in despair. How does she always end up in these situations?

[asexualandalwaysshipping]

Given how much of a sucker I am for old man yaoi, it really came as a surprise to me that I wasn’t as taken with Zaundads as I expected. It’s not even as though I don’t understand or dislike the dynamic, I completely see the ship as a solid interpretation of their relationship but after watching arcane for the first time I wasn’t completely sold. And I think part of it goes in line with what I disliked about s2 and how they handled Silco’s character.

Starting with the obvious where Vander and Silco are clearly meant to parallel Vi and Jinx in terms of how ideology drives them apart, s2 completely abandons that concept by trying to showcase how the two men could’ve reconciled over a letter. I just hate that implication so much especially when the letter essentially says “sorry I lost my head, the blame is on both of us.” No accountability at all. We’re just supposed to accept that Silco, being as deep-seated in his morals as he is, would take that as an apology? It’s the same issue with AU Silco where it makes no sense that he and Vander would just be able to talk things through and forgive when in no scenario was that ever an option for Silco after being betrayed like that by someone he thought of as family. The sisters only reconcile when Vi manages to accept Jinx for who she is rather than Powder, but the writers pretty much settle the Vander/Silco dispute by saying it would all be solved if Silco completely reverted back to someone he no longer is so now the parallel is completely meaningless and I hate that. It’s also why I disliked the addition that Silco presumably knew Felicia because not only does it make the timeline of events confusing, but suggesting that Silco only takes in Powder because he recognizes her as the child of his old friend takes away from the fact that she’s supposed to be a reflection of him. He sees himself in Powder despite knowing nothing about her and takes her under his wing because he recognizes her pain. Again, parallels.

What’s more frustrating is that the writers seemed to have completely left behind Silco’s character after his death. The only ones who seem to remotely mourn his absence is Jinx and to an extent, Sevika, but then the story completely loses track of the amount of influence he’s supposed to have on Zaun. Just one montage and it’s concluded. Even his role as a father is diminished for the sake of the Warwick subplot where Vander’s influence as a father is what supposedly brings the sisters back together. But one could argue that Silco was more of a father to Jinx than Vander ever was and the writers seem to just… forget that. Because Vander can be the only father figure of significance at the moment.

So why do these fumbles turn me off from Zaundads? Because instead of taking the time to delve into their dynamic and explore just what makes their characters work together, the writers settle on a quick fix-it solution focused on hypotheticals that only work if you drastically change Silco’s character and motivations. So it doesn’t feel like you get an actually good grasp of the “what could’ve been”s or their relationship as a whole. S1 does such a better job of building up that tension and making you observe just why these two men regard each other with so much importance.

I dunno, maybe I would’ve been more on board with the ship if I had been there when s1 first released and didn’t immediately have s2 to tarnish my impression but those are just my thoughts. Obviously you don’t have to agree and if you have any counterpoints to what I just said I’d love to hear them. Again, it’s not as though I’m against the ship, it just didn’t click with me as much as I hoped and it’s just disappointing when a ship doesn’t reach your expectations.

[artsyacorn]

I love your art! Your ANOMALI3S AU makes me so sad and yearny. 🥹 Do you think you could share a little bit more about it? 🥺 The idea that Mabel’s desperate to undo things (and also confused?) just before she finds Lil Dip is so painful. They’re meant to be the Pines. 🥺 But the idea of Lil Mabel being enamoured with Mason, a Dipper that’s so detached from her? Annoyed by her? Delicious. You are COOKING!!

thank you so much! sure i can share a lil more about the corresponding dynamics and the angst/loss/(non spoilerish?) character death and such

For context: The twins only have each other in this AU as Stan got turned into an ANOMALY when protecting Mabel. Before things got worse, Ford managed to trap and capture Stan to monitor and research on his infection stages. And.. you can imagine how distraughted the young twins must be seeing their infected Grunkle strapped down onto a chair, knowing the parasite is just eating away at him and processing his brain's memories for mimicry.

Eventually, the government reached out to Ford asking him to assist with creating an antidote. He agreed to leave Gravity Falls behind in order to find a solution to save the world, leaving the twins with only a pair of keys that they wear around their neck that access emergency vaccine kits and gas masks in case spore exposure gets too high. (Will make another post more about the ANOMALI3S and its stages etc.)

TW: Grooming, Age gap

Older!Mabel x Younger!Dipper

It all started with the psychological thing with her unresolved trauma from losing her brother in her timeline, and she regrets turning him down in the most horrible way possible since that was how their relationship strained in the first place. The Dipper from her timeline would always remind her to take her pills daily to keep her sanity in line, but after the time trip she abandoned that one responsibility.

Mabel always wanted to apologise and tell him that they could try if they wanted to, but it just wasn't the right time because it was in the middle of the apocalypse and she was freaking out, so time and place really ruined it all for them.

So, because she doesn't really have the Dipper from her timeline to express these feelings, nor does she have her grunkles with her as an outlet to vent out her feelings, she ends up projecting it onto younger dipper by grooming him + Her sanity's gone down post-time trip, so i would say she's a tad bit obsessive and posessive and that led to falling for him hard.

Personally, I think this song suits their dynamic best:

"My head is made of shrubbery and my body made of stone, cause I can't for the life of me reap what I have sown." - Suffering, Amélie Farren

Older!Dipper x Younger!Mabel

Now, things are a little more angsty with these two. Dipper still being cold, indifferent and finding his sister annoying despite the time trip is one thing. But another is being slapped in the face with a wake up call reminding him that no matter what happens, they have always stayed by each other's sides. They've done it before, they can do it again.

Dipper softens up, but he still struggles to express or show that he still cares. After all, he had to put up this tough demeanor as a front to protect his sister. But internally, he can't stop thinking and worrying about the Mabel in his own timeline. Is she safe? Is she eating well? Is she taking her pills for her sanity? Did she find her way back?

He'd silently watch the younger Mabel's still happy-go-lucky self and hope that she doesn't turn out that way, not in this timeline. He's clinging onto that last piece of memory of her and cherishing it through acts of service — like piggybacking her whenever she's too tired to walk, or giving a bigger portion of his food to her with the reason that "she needs it to grow stronger".

Younger!Mabel falls in love with this Dipper — there's just something about him, from the matured masculinity to the tender acts of unspoken affection. He doesn't have to say anything, but she knows deep down that he loves her. He loves her too much to lose his sister again, so he'll make sure she's alive and healthy in this one.

Mabel would confess and kiss him first, and Dipper would turn her down in this timeline at first — something he internally just wanted to do out of spite for the Mabel in his own timeline. However, with time and slowly opening up, he starts to see and understand why he fell in love with her in the first place. Instead of saying anything that's gotta do with "taking back his words", he would just pull her into a deep kiss out of nowhere.

A song to describe their relationship dynamic:

"I'm too tired to move, too tired to leave. I'm tired of you still tied to me." - Hard Times, Ethel Cain

Anddddd there's pretty much what I've got written thus far! Let me know if you have any headcanon questions and such!

[president-alpine]

Alice, aka Mad Hatter the 3rd

So, I got more info on my Batman AU, Chaos Chronicles, and this time it’s on Alice!

Here is her in a nutshell

Yes, my Jervis has an Alice and she’s not the cute and sweet gal that many people think she is

So! Onto her story

Alice Mallory is the sweet coworker that works at Wayne Tech and everyone loves her. She has a doting boyfriend, lives a happy life, and seems to have it all

In reality, she’s bored to tears from the monotony of life and is desperate to find any thrills

That was until she met Jervis

She was endeared by Jervis’s love of Wonderland and his quirks, despite how much of a recluse he was

Afterwards, she would sneak off to spend time with him every chance she got just to enjoy his company and Jervis has someone he feels like he could open himself to. In turn, it developed into this sweet sibling dynamic between the two of them

Though after the attack on Wayne Tech by Scarecrow and Jervis going full supervillain after a botched plan in trying to protect Alice and make her happy

Alice was now without Jervis and slowly the monotony of life was starting to eat her away. Desperate to find any chance to break the constant cycle, she runs back to Gotham to get a sense of thrill

What she is met instead is the slow destruction of her cutesy persona and reveal the true side of her as she tries to get more thrills

Eventually leading up to her taking up the mantle (only for a little while) of the Mad Hatter

After stealing his hat and cards, she eventually goes on a rampage to have the greatest crime spree to cure her boredom and get the thrills she so desperately wanted

She does get defeated and Jervis is able to get his Mad Hatter costume and tools back, ending her supervillain career

A little bit of extra facts about her and Jervis:

Jervis and Alice have a platonic / sibling like relationship, where Alice acts like the older sister to Jervis

She is one of the few people that Jervis cannot bring himself to mind control / card. Every time he freezes up or the guilt becomes so bad that he loses his will to put a card on her at all (Though, Alice does not share that guilt and will happily card him)

Whenever Alice is upset, she immediately goes to Jervis and hugs him like a Teddy bear. There are times when he would be working but Alice is upset and needs him now so she often grabbed him in the middle of work and drag him away to talk

Alice was never put off by Jervis’s strange habits like his obsession with Wonderland or making good teatime, or just playing with the mice

That’s all I have for now, maybe next time I’ll share Imposter Hatter (aka Mad Hatter the 2nd) later on but that’s it

[violetjedisylveon]

Rotten Fruit Character Profiles - Qi/Sun* Lizi

The second child born after the Sun family reunion, and the (current) youngest child of Qiuyue and Xiuying, Lizi was carried by Xiuying and the younger twin to Tao.

^ Lizi's adult fur color

Sexuality:

Yes (pan)

Personality:

Sweet and tart, though she's quicker to anger than Tao. Much like their sister she's aggressively up front with how she's feeling, these two are great emotional communicators, like their bio parents.

Lizi is a better, more confident liar than their sister, but she doesn't often lie because of how upset it makes Tao, which just makes it easier for them to lie because people don't expect it. They expect her to be fully honest like Tao.

They're more mischievous and prone to pranks than Tao, but she doesn't go as far as her other siblings do, they just like to have a little fun sometimes.

She loves dancing, though her preferred type is ribbon dancing, they tie a ribbon to her tail to add to their performances. She and Tao spend lots of time working together on how best to incorporate their shadow magic into.

Lizi also likes to fight, they practice with Xuěhuā and work on incorporating fighting techniques into their dances, dance fighting!She is less envious of their little brother's relationship with their older sister than Tao is, but she still feels some of that jealousy. It's less intense for them because she is younger than Tao.

She gets less upset over being babied than Tao does too.

They really enjoy playing with her younger siblings and teaching them to dance (and fight). She will engage in some light mischief with Ziqi and help her make her shadow plays more dynamic and visually interesting.

She doesn't like it when their plans and performances are disrupted, she likes it when things go smoothly according to the plan and needs heads up to accommodate it.

They aso really don't like being considered weak, and they can do something about it because she knows how to kick someone's ass and look good while doing it.

And she doesn't like her past hearing, they can't control it very well and it's counterproductive to constantly be hearing things that happened in the past and not hearing the full thing, they are full of thumb tacks and red strings with all the weird seemingly disconnected but actually connected shit they hear. It's annoying, she wants answers.

She does like her ears and is proud to have them despite the dangers of being a LEM, they're just annoying.

Likes:

Dancing

Ribbon dancing

Fighting

When people are hot

Playing with her siblings

Teaching their siblings to dance

Their ears

Dislikes:

Xiangliu

Being underestimated

Their performances being interrupted

Unexpected disruptions

Her past hearing

Sleezy people hitting on her sister

And the typical family being threatened and kidnapping stuff, they don't like that.

Hobbies:

Ribbon dancing

Dancing with their family

Sparring with Xuěhuā

Goals:

Get into the Megapolis Dancing Academy with Tao

Find out about their mama's secret past

Closest/Favorite sibling:

Yuebei-Xing, and Xuěhuā, they're tied

Closest/Favorite parent:

Xiuying, their past is simple and easy

Favorite fruit:

Plums

Trauma scale:

On a scale of 1-10, how traumatized is she?

5, same as Tao, they keep getting held hostage by the snake who nearly got them and their o’pa killed.

*monkey demon surnames are passed down by who birthed them, so traditionally Tao and Lizi would have Xiuying's surname, but the family did not really want the constant reminder of that very traumatic birth, and so gave them the name Sun, but the Fruit Twins use both names interchangeably.

Lizi is a demi girl btw, she uses she/her and they/them pronouns interchangeably.

As you can see I got more creative with Tao and Lizi's poses, I didn't do them for the rest.

Previous (Tao)

Next (Paramita)

Rotten Fruit AU Masterpost

@sakurablossoms-world

[helaegoncore]

hello i am new to helaegon fandom and i was wondering if you could give a basic synopsis of the ship so i can easier understand it, thanks I am not sure about it yet

Hello!

So, it is difficult to sum it up since I have A LOT to say when it comes to Helaegon, but I will try to give you the major hints here, and if you want to know more you can submit me more questions! <3

First of all, Aegon and Helaena in the book are very different from Aegon and Helaena in the show. So my explanation here will revolve more around their book counterparts. There are indications they felt a certain affection for one another. They have dragons with matching names, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, and they share a strict connection with the sun (Aegon) and the moon (Helaena), in fact you will find many aesthetics and fanarts of them like this. Surely they liked each other, considering they slept in the same bed in the book, and she had a seat in his Small Council when he became king. Aegon also seemed to be very jealous when another man, Jace, asked Helaena for a dance, almost arriving to blows. And he decreed that she had to be remembered as the only queen of the dance.

The appeal of Helaegon's storyline is that is really tragic. They were married to each other when they were very young, yet they menaged to make the best of their circumstances. They had three children, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor, and it all fell down when they were made to take a throne they substancially didn't want. Despite being two very different people in both the show and the book, I find them to be "opposites and yet complementaries", in the sense they share a big deal of parallelisms and similarities, and also oppositions, for example Aegon ends up being broken in his body but not in his mind and Helaena viceversa ends up being broken in her mind but not in her body. They're not an ideal, fairytale couple, but they have a big appeal also in terms of aus.

And I personally love how George Martin writes them. I was re-reading their quotes for a post this afternoon, and I find most of them really poetic. He refers to Helaena as "Aegon's doomed, haunted queen and mother to his children", and he often remarks this also in the novel, her being Aegon's wife, sister, queen and mother of his children, like a way to say he was everything to him (?).

As for the show, Tom Glynn-Carney and Phia Saban, the actors who play them, despite the little screentime and not nice treatment they sometimes received from the show, spoke in a very beautiful way of Helaegon, remarking a bit of what I said in this post and also for example underlining how they're the only people who can understand each other, but cannot be there for each other after Blood and Cheese, when they just "need to hold each other for a minute". I really recommend you to watch their interviews for a better version of their dynamic, expecially in the show, since they also have explained some scenes that could be easily misunderstood in the series, such as the stairs scene. And according to Phia, Helaena does all the fine needlework she wears herself, and she does it also for her children. Aegon has been wearing shirts decorated with fine embroidery throughout season 2, so most likely his clothes have been embroidered by his wife.

I think that's all as a summary! Again, if you have more questions, just submit them, and.. welcome to the Helaegon fandom if you'll decide lmao

[spectrolitha]

❗blood (a bit)❗

I managed to get some blood and edginess into my flufftober. Yay.

These guys are my OCs for Exalted ttrpg, but in modern spy (and/or mafia) AU, as prompt required. (You could have seen two of these characters in my previous exaltedposting)

Quartz Crumbs of Wyrm's Teeth, or Quartz for short, a gentleman with white hair – Dusk Abyssal. Aggressive and idiotic loser (/affectionate) with sad backstory™. Is currently in servitude to my Deathlord OC, who uses Quartz's yearning for affection and praise to manipulate him into unhealthy devotion. In this AU Quartz is a mafia underling who is just trying to get through his life and is completely ignorant of the fact that both of his best friends are secretly government agents.

First Among the Chickadees, or Chickadee for short, a lady in black dress – Changing Moon Lunar. Free spirit in love with simple life, she absolutely didn't want Luna's blessing (despite living in Lunar settlement outside of Realm her whole life), but fate (me) said otherwise. She is Quartz's Lunar mate, but their dynamic is devoid of romance and is something more about being frenemies, with strong emphasis on "enemies" – they usually don't get along too well, even if though they don't actively try to harm eachother. In this AU Chickadee is a government assassin, though general public sees her as a vigilante punishing bastards among high society (read: Dragon-Blooded)

Winter That Has Frozen the Heart, or Heart for short, a gentleman with black hair – Midnight Abyssal. Weak and ill in childhood, he got fed up with his inability to protect his sister, Chickadee, pretty quickly. So when Dragon-Blooded attacked their settlement, he tried to play the hero. Got killed, then got better when Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears came to him with Abyssal deal. Heart is a powerful necromancer, incredibly cynical and just as incredibly caring about Chickadee and Quartz, whom he kinda sees as a younger brother. Which doesn't save any of them from his messed up sense of humour. In this AU Heart is a government spy in the mafia, trying to get as close to destroying it as possible, while also keeping Quartz and Chickadee out of harm's way.

Close-ups + bonus under the cut

Bonus: Heart in his canon variant (and some random OC in the first picture, ignore him)

Text from last sketch: "Serving a Deathlord is painful, unpleasant and so on..." → "But if you refuse..." → "I'll break all of your bones and will make your corpse my marionette :)"

Heart's ways of recruiting captive Dragon-Blooded to his Deathlord's side are pretty mean, yeah.

[shsl-hubris-guy]

Takemichi stan here, please talk more about him being a protag, I'm very intrigued.

(And also, Celeste's cat, lmao)

I have been WAITING for this ask since I dropped the tier list. Thank you. Thank you so much

So in UDG, Komaru becomes the protagonist because she's Makoto's sister, and thus, becomes Monaca's target. Well, Komaru is still Monaca's target in this UDT au too, BUT it's because she's the sister of the mastermind, not the one who killed the mastermind. This puts her as a secondary deuteragonist of the game, as Leon (the deuterag) is unsure how much she knows and if she's trustworthy or not. But that left me with an empty protagonist slot, so I thought to myself, which Captive would best fit within this au? And two options came to mind. The first was Takaaki, but I ultimately wanted the protag/Deuterag dynamic that Toko and Syo had with Komaru so I decided against it, instead opting to have him be in my au's UDT 2 and play a major role there. The other was Takemichi.

Takemichi has always been one of the captives I would've liked to see the most, and it helped here that Mondo had become the first victim in this AU's THH, so I figured that gave him enough significance right off the bat to put him in a leading role in a game about the victims' loved ones, especially considering that we know Leon and Mondo were friends prior to the games. I imagine a game in which Takemichi actually remembers Leon but Leon has no memory of him has a ton of potential to it especially. (Also, as much as I love Tokomaru and Syomaru, I wanna assert that Leon and Takemichi are gonna be entirely platonic. Maybe a QPR at most)

If there are any Takemichi lovers who've scrounged up every known piece of info about Takemichi, and any of it contradicts with my limited knowledge and assumptions, please tell me, I'd love to hear more, but as of typing this out, all my knowledge of Takemichi is

A) he's Mondo's right hand in the gang

B) he's expressly not interested in women despite a literal fanclub

And

C) he's short? Ider finding this info so this could just be an assumption based on the way they draw his face

So my line of thinking would be him pulling together an outfit and painting a biker helmet to look like a Monokuma kid, and therefore, avoid being attacked. This disguise would be a work in progress over the course of the game, coming to completion in the later chapters to introduce a sneaking mechanic. This disguise would make for a way to reveal that the helmets aren't just helmets, but tracking devices to keep track of the kids, so while you can go past the kids with the disguise, it doesn't work on the Monokumas bots because there's no sensor telling them to stop. Also, I like to think his weapon of choice would be something along the lines of a survival multi tool for map exploration, while Komaru maintains the gun and can be swapped out when specific bullets are needed for puzzles, rather than shooting being the primary progression mechanic. Leon, meanwhile, is the main fighter, wielding a metal bat to break the Monokumas when they're attacked.

Really, I'd like to delve into the story of what made Takemichi want to join a biker gang, and having his past let him connect with Nagisa. I can't help but imagine Takemichi, who joined a gang, might've done so because of pressures in his home life leading him to redefine his life and leave home, maybe even staying with the Owadas. So he might just be the right character to reach out to Nagisa and get through to him, saving him from being killed by his own robot and giving him a second chance, with him then being the one to help them through the final chapter and warn them of Monaca's interest in Komaru, though he doesn't know why.

But yeah that's what I've been thinking!

[gloster]

FAVORITE FANFICS OF 2023

We did it. We made it. We made it through the end of 2023, and BOY AM I HAPPY AS HELL TO SAY GOOD-FUCKING-BYE TO IT. I don't know about you guys, but this year- particularly the last quarter- have been a lot to say the least. A lot of headaches, a lot of mental breakdowns, a lot of emotional gymnastics, and more.

But thanks to good friends, good shows, good music, and of course good fanfics I managed to see it through the end.

One of my favorite New Year's Eve's traditions where I do my annually fanfic recs/favorite fanfics of the year. This marks a whooping 5th year doing it, YAY 🎉💃🏿 If interested, check out 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022 lists.

Please know there's no real ranking, despite the number ordering. Loved all these stories listed. Loved all the fanfics writers featured. And of course highly highly highly recommend

Without further ado, here are my favorite fanfics of 2023:

1). Something Good by @no-net-ensnares-me (kathony/kanthony)

Summary: Eager to earn a wage that would provide a more suitable life for her family and prepare for Edwina’s debut in a couple years, Kate accepts a position as governess for the Bridgerton family and moves to London, where she finds herself thrown into the chaos of living with the severe yet handsome Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and his seven siblings.

or

The Sound of Music AU

The Hills are aliiiiiiiiiiiiive with the sound of music/and the feels are FEEEEEEEEEELT with each new chapter. LOL, but all jokes aside, yes it's been a year since we saw our dear Viscount and Viscountess yet I still ride hard for them like it's their season premire all over again. Thanks of course to the awesome fic writers who keep us well-feed as we wait for season 3, such as this gem right here

Seriously, I cannot stress how insanely good this was. A good retelling where you see elements of Sound of Music while also being its' own thing. The longing, the longing between Kate and Anthony is so good. READ IT.

2). A Devil's Love by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks), Irony_Rocks (kathony/kanthony)

Summary: When Kate's sister goes missing, she gets herself a waitress job at the Pebble Lounge to track her down, working under London’s seedy underbelly to find the only person she has left in this world to love. And Anthony Bridgerton? No matter how alluring and distracting he may be, he’s just a means to an end, his life defined by his family business built on corruption.

Kate won’t dance to that tune. She’s just trying to find her sister.

Two in a row. A win for kathony/kanthony. Where the first one for the most part is cozy and light, this one is dark. Not surprising since this story, according to the author, was inspired by the 2022's The Batman, focusing on the electric dynamic between our favorite Bruce and Selina Kyle. Or rather in this AU, the dynamics between a dangerous mob boss and a woman going undercover as a waitress to figure out what happened to her sister.

It's got everything. Protective/possessive Anthony. Stubborn, witty Kate. Great sexual tension. Fair warning, there is an unplanned pregnancy so keep that in mind. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride

3). Intent to Cherish by iffervescent (kinn x porsche)

Summary: A mouthy beta runs off with Kinn's watch. He goes to get it back.

4 chapters this story is. 4 chapters of hilarious back and forth. 4 chapters of Porsche keeping that stubborn streak in tact with Kinn trying to chip his way through. 4 chapters we get to watch Porsche go from intriguing thief, to Kinn's employee, and finally intended.

This story checks off so many boxes. ABO AU, which is always a favorite. Sugar Baby and Sugar Daddy dynamic- never get tired of that. And of course Porsche being spoiled rotten. What more could you want?

4). burnt cotton series by taetaehland (taekook)

Summary: here's a series featuring your favorite bratty taehyung and his whipped husband, jeongguk (plus their adorable pups)

Once again, we got ABO and we so far have 11 stories of it featuring our favorite BTS as they grow more of their little family, grow more in love, and of course Tae growing more crafty and poor Kookie growing more insane. I love it.

Not to mention seeing all the ways Jungkook becomes more and more whipped for his husband is just the icing on the cake.

5). 'Tis a Far Better Thing by @the-sinking-ship (drarry)

Summary: 'Tis a far, far better thing doing stuff for other people — or however the Muggle saying goes — because Potter is in need of professional help, and Draco is just the man to give it to him.

A Drarry Clueless AU.

Sometimes you come across two things, such as two fandoms that on the surface seem so far farfetched until one ambitious fic writer creates a story that combines elements of the two and creates a wonderful gem of a story. Which is exactly what happened here.

Draco Malfoy and Cher Horowitz are so much alike, it's not even funny. Thus enhancing my enjoyment for this story to outright love love loving.

Again, elements to a famous story that brings on the nostalgia and enjoyment while also being it's own fresh spin. Plus FASHION. Draco as a Fashion Designer with Harry being his newest client. Along with Draco massively simping- always a win in my book.

6). Tracklist by Mia_Moon (sukuita/sukuIta)

Summary: Singer Sukuna x Fanboy Yuuji

Where they do kinky stuff together first and then get to know each other later.

Sometimes you have that fandom with an OTP that's set and your loyal ride or ship. Then there are other fandoms, where you love most of the characters, see the chemistry between them, love the dynamics, and it's fair game for shipping season. Jujutsu Kaisen is one of those fandoms, and sukita/sukulta was one of those ships that I just ended up falling in love with it.

Listen. Listen. Listen. I know the synopsis just give smutty smutty good time, but you get that and MORE.

What more you say be asking? Well, for starter our dear boy Yuuji who gets spoiled rotten, pampered, and yes, also gets sexed up 7 ways to Sunday- featuring some of the hottest smut I've read so far might I add. Mia_Moon did their thing, and I definitely will be reading more of and more of their works.

I don't know why to explain it, but there's something about a celebrity AU, where we have one half of the ship be this famous celeb and the other being this outsider getting pulled into their world. I ate it up every single time.

7). I'm Only Going to Heaven (If it Feels Like Hell) by stereobone (eruri)

Summary: "Are you saying you want to be my sugar daddy?" Levi says.

This story, I kid you not, came at the best timing, especially as I still try to untangle my very tangled feelings regarding the final season of Attack of Titan. But one positive that came outta it was my ulitmate love for Levi Ackerman, along with rekindling my love for eruri.

Good to note, one of the quickest quickest ways for me to immediately read a fanfic is if I see the keywords: Sugar Daddy.

What can I say? It gets me everytime. And this one was no different. This story not only came to my radar at the perfect time, but it also was just so damn perfect. So damn good. And of course had me looking through whatever other eruri stories the writer had under their belt.

8). Minor Family Supremacy by @yoonmoonbii (vegaspete, kinnporsche,payurain, prapaisky)

Summary: Like Vegas, Venice Theerapanyakun was born into a dangerous world of crime and power plays. And unlike Vegas, he is well protected by his family who shelters the little boy and spoils him to the core. However, in a day like every other, Venice is kidnapped.

Oh dear lord, where do we begin with this one? Well, much as 2023 was a hot flaming mess, it also became the year of Love of the Air (my new comfort show) and Kinnporsche. For not only me but also for my dear friends @littlenightdragon & @kila09. And what does one do after getting into a new show/fandom? Find fanfics to satisfy the fangirl cravings.

Minor Family Supremacy, or as me and @littlenightdragon often like to call it, the Minor Family Saga was the fanfic for us. And deliver what we needed after finishing Kinnporsche and wanted more of Vegas, more of Pete, and see the other side of the Minor Family.

This one, massive massive props, praise, and all the kudos for @yoonmoonbii for putting this series together because wow. Series starts off with Payu aka Venice as a kid, best friends with his cousin Prapai, being protected by his loving parents until one day changes their dynamics forever- and further widen the gap between the two . But quickly as each story goes on, the two find themselves being more aware of their positions, the complicated histories of their families, and how to stay on course of their own lives without falling into the trappings of Korn's narcisstic chesse game.

It's that good. Each story is like a TV season to the vegaspete spin-off we were so badly owed and sadly weren't granted.

9). Haute Couture, Mon Amour by @goldentruth813 (sheith)

Summary: When a scruffy stranger walks into Mamora Designs, personal shopper Shiro decks him in finery instead of sending him away. Little does Shiro know there’s more to this man than meets the eye and while trying to give him a picture perfect moment he just might find his own instead.

When it comes to @goldentruth813, you can count on several things. Amazing sheith stories. Incredible moments that will make your heart swoon or flutter (depending on the rating). And of course for Shiro to be spoiled rotten and given more depth than the show did.

This one, one word: FASHION. Fashion, fashion, with a lot of a Cinderella-ish vibe, only slightly if you catch it.

Honorable mention:

Wishing on a Frat Boy

10). He's The Bride by @sashadistan (tododeku)

Summary: Fae Prince Shoto has been waiting his whole life to marry his betrothed. As it turns out, a few interesting details were lost in translation, but Shoto still thinks his bride is worth the wait.

Oh @sashadistan, how I adore thee. For the way you just drop these amazing stories for us peasants, feeding us with wonderful content one story at a time. I always love your stories whether it's sheith, tododeku, and more.

This one was no different. This story has everything I could want: Fae Shouto, possessive Shouto, body worship, Izuku being his stuttering and flustering mess, and arranged marriage.

If y'all told me 5 or so years ago, I'd get into arranged marriage, I would have been dumbfounded. Or wonder if you were trying to be funny. Now? I love it. Just goes to show that sometimes it takes a good writer to make something you don't like a win in your eyes.

And now for the Honorable Mentions that were insanely good but due to time & length, couldn't go into full depth:

Just Breathe by @icecream-suga (2 part series w/1st part focusing on yoonmin & the 2nd on taekook; gangsters, drugs, gunplay, OH MY. So goooooood)

Right at Home by cmere (firstprince, alex x henry; grad students in a non-royal AU, fake-dating, and hijinks)

Hair Ribbons and Silk Ties by writer_of_passion (tiana x nanami/tianami; loving husband goes bonkers seeing his wife's curls loose and it GOES DOWN, so so so good)

Bedroom Hymns by Writcraft (drarry; daddy kink w/dom & sub undertones, insanely HOTTT)

Like, Comment, and Romance by @xskyll (tododeku; Youtuber Deku, pro-Hero Shouto, mutual longing and pining wrapped in a insanely fun read)

And there you have it. As usual, thanks to the awesome fanfic writers who do what they do. Fanfics, literally, is the only thing keeping us sane. And please check out all these stories.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, GUYS