#if ur happy u can write them being happy w u! if ur mad u can write them telling someone off for u

[stunie]

it’s so easy to forget that you can literally write whatever you want

[tradetobest]

☕️ are there any weird/niche fic ideas you want to write/see written? (or any ideas u have in general lol)

ive been BRAINROTTING abt this fic it read last month (i think recced it in my fic rec post????) that was w an au called the “wandering hearts au” and like. its where ur heart can pop out of yr chest and if you like someone it like. GOES to them. and ive been just rotating various hockeys in my head about it but like. Mitch Marner. mr heart on his sleeve. pretends to be happy but patty gets his heart that night and OUGH. auston being so mad at babs bcs he knows exactly how often he had to sooth mitch. OUGH. insane

[stevie-petey]

DARE I SAY THE BEST CHAPTER EVER!! (alongside w dear billy) oh my god oh my god oh my god stug in the upside down, the “im dust!” moment, slightly jealous steve, robin and bug cuteness, and my wife nancy being the best group captain?? i might just explode into tiny little bits m 😭😭😭 

i was gonna talk about this at the end but it CANNOT WAIT. bug’s visions were so bad it makes me want to throw up VECNA WHEN I CATCH U WHENNN I FUCKING CATCH YOU WITH THESE HANDS. him using her dad against her was so cruel and using her fear of losing steve was FUCKED the stancy vision scene made me feel sick. to. my. stomach. 

anyways! 😇 i love how eddie and bug’s conversation about dustin lead them to open up to eachother about how neither one of them truly dislike each other and that they were just envious of eachother cause who wouldn’t be? dustin’s the best kid ever 🥲 i know bug really needed to hear about dusty’s conversation with eddie about how much he appreciates her and adores her and how sad dustin will be when she leaves, bc bug was so sure that dustin has grown up to hate her and resent her which is so sad and so untrue :( so eddie assuring her that dustin talks so much about her with adoration made my heart melt 😭 such a sweet moment <33

steve’s little jealous moment made me giggle YES HE IS SO BOYFRIEND!!!!!!

(“Here, let me just–” He comes next to you and throws your arm over his shoulders before either you or Steve can protest. Immediately the pressure on your injured leg lessens. You sigh in content, and Eddie smirks. “There ya go, princess.” “Don’t call her that.” Steve snaps, but even he has to admit that Eddie’s help is needed.) 

calm down stevie they’re platonic besties.. (yes the 3 annoying siblings trope is very much canon in my head..and i can’t decide which ones the middle child bug or eddie)

i can’t even pretend to be mad at u for that cliffhanger it had to be done..

also how does one write such sweet tooth rotting moments only to make you feel violently ill the next second??? making direct eye contact with u cutie m..

I LOVED THE CHAPTER!!! pls pay for my therapy x

this chapter truly had everything ur so right LMAO.

and YES the im dust scene !!!! cutest siblings alive god i love them :( i was happy to finally shed some insight into dustin n bug like i promise guys im not just making dustin a dick for no reason (unlike the duffer bros ???)

and bugs vision was just a cultivation of all her deepest, biggest insecurities and fears weve seen over the last 4 seasons and i feel like its such a new insight into her character. will being her deepest regret, her father being her deepest hurt, and steve/nancy being her deepest insecurity like UGH !!!! my poor baby :(

the steve/eddie/bug scene made me giggle to write like eddie and bug are finally begrudging besties and steves just like ???? and eddie would def be the middle child, bug the oldest, steve the youngest. 100%

[secondeve]

hi hello happy opening, nice to meet everyone! i’m blue & this is shin jieum, sadpathetic girl looking to exchange a plot of land for just a bit ( a lot ) of the love or power she thinks she deserves ! i've got her profile, background pages up & more info / plots under the cut, pls like to plot or ask for my d/scord and i’ll be there! 💗

info

unknown / nth was on loop while writing her bio, though i think that's more indulgent for her than the sharp objects jieum's actually made out of rip but that's on context & for listening!

starting from the bottom: the shins are a family that somehow manages to weasel their way to capitalise on whoever's in power at the time ( usually the parks ). have an unfortunate tendency to angle for their daughters marrying into the founding families—though they can't be said to be unsuccessful on that front!

so that's how jieum is raised! mother is sour from losing out on the yang heir of her time & is now puppeteering her children into where she almost was. she lied to jieum that she's a yang-affair baby & insists that she's lost out, so she's got a big chip on her shoulder about not having what she's due

( would fuck her up to find out that she's actually just the daughter of a mediocre man but she doesn't know that. yet! )

but anyway jieum is not the alluring type :( she fades into the background, v much unperks of being a wallflower. not rlly charismatic or sweet enough to win any hearts & doesn't have the backbone to stand taller than kim i or yang on her own either so she's kind of fucked she's always 2nd yknow bridesmaid but never the bride until!!!!

she Does become the bride. hot damn!

she thinks she's finally getting her flowers, but this marriage is loveless & faithless so eventually ( quite quickly ) falls apart. her ego is her undoing and she turns cold & dry to park i, which only makes things worse, rip—she's defo keeping up the facade of a perfect home but it's not that at all

tries to soothe her ego by reminding herself of all the people she's better than now that she's married into the parks! has defo stepped on a few toes for her ego's sake but she has old habits of deferring to people & also needs her father in law's help re the land so she can't be Too uppity?

let's go horoscope girlies she's got a pisces sun aries moon taurus rising, she longs for love & loves herself too much but it's not enough for her... she might think she's playing the game well but it's usually clouded by her ego / insecurities. makes missteps all the time bc she's not used to being on the upper hand or needing to be careful since being 2nd means no one rlly notices u. feels sorry for herself all the time & can be kind but only when it makes her feel better about herself. also she's so bored & discontent with life she's just a housewife but who knows if she'll still be when she starts shilling for tk group!

plots

fellow stiffed by life sufferers. people who are willing to commiserate about how bad their lives are even tho objectively none of them are having it that bad

the first / only person she's ever come first to & like sure they aren't important or powerful but they make her feel powerful so maybe she's attached but sneakily. maybe she doesn't want to be associated w them too publicly?

a friend her friend they're hers & she might have smth codependent with them

someone who thinks she's so pathetic but she's like trainwreck entertainment for them they keep leading her down the wrong paths

or maybe someone who feels bad for her. they keep trying to help her & she keeps getting mad at them for meddling even tho they mean well & she Knows they mean well but her ego is small & easily bruised

people who don't like park i & the wife of my enemy is my enemy—but if she doesn't like him too then is she ur friend?

someone who smells a rat when she's around & repeating jung / iida's talking points about selling the land...

also someone who might believe her & legit thinks the shins have the good of the town at heart she's working an angle on them now

the usu yknow childhood friends rivals exes fwbs ( yes she's married but if he's cheating so is she... )

[pumpkinsy0]

Buck x Tim headconnons

I feel like they would be a good duo

Buck can fight, but he's just retired to fight. Just tends the Bar he owes

They will both beat peoples asses, if they fight together

Tim makes fun of Buck for being old, but Buck doesn't get mad he lets it slide

If its Buck's b-day, Tim will steal him little gifts (Buck gets mad at Tim for stealing but is thankful for the gift)

If its Tim's b-day, Buck will let him have free beer (only on his birthday)

Tim dares Buck to fight him, but still losses to Buck anyways 😂

When Tim is having a bad day, he will go to Buck's bar and spend there all day till he's drunk (maybe will often tell Buck about his bad day, and Buck will try his best to comfort him) I thought that will be cute♥😭

Since Buck has a dog (I feel like it should be a girl and her name should be pig) But Buck's dog loves Tim and Tim loves her back, he loves playing with her and she loves playing with him

One time Buck was laughing at Tim, because he was getting attacked by Pig while playfighting, and she accidentally bit Tim so hard he ended up having a scar on his neck (ofc Buck took Pig off Tim, but Tim was hurt so badly he couldn't talk right for a few week😭)

Tim wasn't mad at Pig, but was mad at Buck for laughing at him💀 (its fine if u don't like the whole idea)

When Tim's car isn't working and he need to go some places, he would steal Buck's car and Buck finds out, gets really pissed at him for stealing his car

Speaking of Buck's car, Tim like riding with Buck when he's running errands (Tim's passenger princess😭 Buck is forces to buy him stuff) 💀

Sorry for writing so much. And sorry if you don't like some stuff I put down. But I would love to see what you come up with. (I love your headconnons there so awesome! I wanna know what you put for THESE TWO. And its them being friends not lovers I swear😭)

This is the same person that asked for the "Buck Merrill headconnons" just letting you know. :D And you know that Buck is my favorite character. :D I also loved what you wrote for him, and thanks for taking your time writing about him. Now I wanna know for this one. :D

OOoOo i actually dont see many ppl talk about buck n tim so id b happy to talk about it!!!

perhaps buck will b my third fav caribbean man of the outsiders one day

•i see them as business partners and friends!!! not exactly THEE closest of friends, but friends nonetheless!!!

•so like,,,both of em r black,,,,both got 4c hair,,,perhaps they share tips n tricks on how to maintain their hait🗽🗽

•i can totally see buck w cornrows, tim probably did it for him as a “thanks for letting me hide out here while the cops searched for me and patching me up”

•tim can braid hair thanks to practice on angela and curlys hair btw i feel like i should announce that

•tim absolutely does make fun of buck for being old even though it’s literally by a few years buck is so sick of it, ESPECIALLY when tims drunk, ur so real for this hc anon

•for tims bday he definitely abuses his free beer privileges n takes some home, if he can get it for free and not have to pay later he’s DEFINITELY gonna b on that

•buck doesnt rlly fight anymore but he for sure isnt rusty, hes the bartender AND the bouncer let that b known☝🏽☝🏽

•buck MIGHT join in on a rumble if tim RLLY needed the backup but thats a huge might

•AT FIRST pig was fucking terrified of tim, like she would run away from tim, but tim gave her some food ONCE and now she loves em

•sometimes when buck and tim get together for business reasons tims just petting pig cause fluffy dog goes brrrrr

•inspired by my dog but sometimes pig just takes tims hand and literally forces the guy wherever and tim wants to hate it but pig is a cutie so he lets it slide<33

•LIKE I SAID caribbean men, buck prolly taught tim some trinidadian creole english while tim taught buck some haitian creole #culturalkingswowiezowie

•if tims having a bad day or is just bored and doesnt rlly wanna go home he just goes to bucks bar to pick someone up or drink a bit hes not a busy man EVERY day surprisingly

•rlly when it comes to buck, if darry cant rlly relate to him he knows that buck will to some degree!!!

•ALSO ALSO hc that when tims locked up or gets arrested, he calls for buck to watch over angela and curly, cant have them without a guardian now

BUT YEA THIS IS WHAT I COULD COME UP W ON THE WHIM hope u liked it anon🫶🏽🫶🏽

and thx for liking the hcs :D!!

[hyunjinspark]

hiii !! i wanted to leave my comments on chap 17 a few days ago but im so stressed w my life i didnt have time to sit down and digest this chapter properly lolz but either way im here now! And my feelings changed .

i think i've mentioned in my last ask that i couldnt get mad at hyunjin. well now i can 😭😭 i think the way you narrated yns feelings really hit home for me - realizing she was currently living her dream life and not being able to feel anything besides pain really got to me. even though hyunjin doesnt realize the amount of hurt he caused, he still managed to ruin (at least for a while) something that is such a huge deal in her life. i do kinda feel sorry for hyunjin too, he seem so clueless about the damage he causes, but its really hard reading how empty yn feels when there are so many good things happening in her life

im so incredibly proud of yn for standing up for herself!!! she really matured a lot, and i think she's starting to respect herself and stand her ground more. i wonder whats gonna happen when she reaches her breaking point w hyunjin tbh.. i hope she does, though. he needs to realize how neglectful hes been w her

also, i really dont know my opinion on jeonghan yet. im not his biggest fan, but i don't really dislike him either. i do think hes maybe a bit to eager to make out w yn at any opportunity he has, but i cant blame him for that LMAO i just dont trust him yet. i hope he doesnt do anything weird.. he's definitely on my watch 👁️

and i think this might be a really hot take, but i dont know how i feel about kairi and bang chan... things could go SO wrong and when it comes to u writing angst.. im really worried ab where this is gonna lead us 😭 honestly idek how i want things to go for them.. ofc i would love if they got back together, but that doesn't really seem possible. u keep getting me hooked on this story jade omg 😭 i srsly have NO idea how this is gonna go and im honestly kinda worried ab finding out..

and also i hope nothing happens between yn and hyunjin in the next chapter🥲 unless they have a srs conversation and hyunjin apologizes.. honestly idek what he could do to make it up to yn at this point. but still, im always rooting for them. and i trust hyunjin's feelings towards yn. and i trust ur ability to turn really tragic storylines into really pretty love stories

but yea ! hoping and praying my good sister yn will not fold in chap 18 🫡 i love her i just want her to be happy and appreciated :((

alsoo right where you left me is my favorite taylor song ever 🥲🥲 the title alone made me flinch before i even started reading the chapter lmao

anywayyysss !! hope u have a lovely lovely day, pretty! im always rooting for u!

🩸

its been a while ! im surprised your feelings changed but that makes sense, yn’s really struggling and hyunjin probably has no clue how much :/ its frustrating, and her breaking point is imminent tbh !!

i think a lot of people share your opinion on jeonghan 👀 it could go either way,,,,and same for kairi and chan 💔

anyway, i love reading your thoughts !! thanks for sending them in. ☺️

[colgatebluemintygel]

hi !!! im obsessed w yr on another ocean fic i think i reread it every two days <33 the r/s dynamic within it is just truly!! not like any other & it's soooo good like i love every single dynamic uve created in that fic i can tell sirius is gnna do smth like text james... im in love with remus & the poor guy would call immediately chocking on his tongue or smth like they're sooo cute & close!! similarly w/regulus and sirius like they've got their ups & downs but u can really tell they're just!! brothers at the end of the day and yes okay this was meant to be a short ask but im just gushing to u abt yr own fic srry xx im in loveee with the r/s dynamic uve created like pining r & s who's still finding his footing with all of it and how they basically act married but are so definitely "not in love" like it's just purely platonic fking they're so unserious i love them i love YOU& what uve done with them i can think of nothing but oao 24/7 erm that's all bye xx

layla HIIIIIIIII oh my gosh hello i am sitting here w my chin on my hand smiling the biggest goofiest smile twas truly such a delight to log in and see this !! thank uu <333

ahhh the dynamics! im soo so happy u enjoy them<3 james n sirius! soulmates and bosom friends<3 and AGH sirius n REGULUS who understand each other in ways no one else ever will, but who also struggle 2 understand each other in some of the most simple, everyday ways (!!)

and ofc the girls of the moment r/s <3 their dynamic is so fun to write bc there's already soo much love and intimacy there from their friendship. so when u shift that into a fwb situ so much of it feels natural! but it's also all so confusing and strange bc what parts are friendship love, and what parts might be more? WHO KNOWS but if someone figures it out they should tell s (and also r) bc he is v confused <3

also i just had 2 highlight "s who's still finding his footing" bc that is exactly it !! i often give s a hard time for being a mess but the main action occurs over a couple of weeks. !! like he literally has the revelation that he wants to fuck his bsf one week, and then the next week n a bit later he is not only actively shagging him but having (long overdue) love revelations?? mad. simply mad. no wonder he's having a tough time getting his thoughts in order; id be a wreck </3

omg they are soooo unserious, so silly and goofy honestly they could be 40 years old and at the altar literally about to get married and sirius would be like 'i love you' and remus would still tear up like 'really?????'

<3

eeep thank you again MWAHHH sending a thousand little kisses ur way xxxxxxx

[meiozis]

teehee its me

reading this again felt like meeting a dear friend after a while of not being able to catch up <33 but im writing this as im reading so lets gooo

Shakira waits for no one.

SO REAL shes the uniting force

y/n being a horse girl is something that can be so personal…

“Do you think he only listens to classical music? I think a Kim Petras song would kill him instantaneously.”

please 😭😭😭

everything about y/n’s inner monologue is so. like she gets it. also shes mad funny

DEATH BY A THOUSAND PAPERCUTS !! when i first read this line it infiltrated my brain and i have genuinely not been able to stop saying it ever since, like its literally part of my vocabulary now

Joshua seems to take no issue with that, gratefully. He takes a seat on the chaise at the foot of the bed. He’s got a copy of Anna Karenina under his arm, probably to weigh the pros and cons of cheating on you. You don’t blame him—in fact, maybe it would make your doomed marriage exciting enough to be tolerable.

i wish i could add a voice memo of the way i laughed out loud at this

He might be the only person in the world who takes “pea-sized” seriously as a measurement tool.

get his ass

Ten-year-old you would have cried and threatened arson if she knew this is how you would eventually be proposed to, but you have no choice.

and she would be so fucking right to do all that too

If romance wasn’t already dead, then it died here, today, in your prison cell bedroom.

i just feel like y/n gets me and i get her. like you know how sometimes it’s like ‘i would NOT do that’ when you’re reading x reader fics. but this time i feel like im reading my diary from an alternate universe where joshua hong stares at my ass while im putting lipstick on the way the entire family treats her like she’s disposable and just an asset in their life, not their literal child is using my last nerve as a jumping rope but in a way where it makes me wanna read faster and get to the point where she’s finally happy

God really seems to have wasted a perfect face on him.

another line thats entering my vocab after this

He’s just like anyone else, you tell yourself. You’re at the club. They’re playing Everytime We Touch by Cascada.

arguably the most romantic song of all time

i would love to imagine that the skimpy black dress that gets mentioned is just Diana’s revenge dress

"The perfect opportunity to show the world that their hottest bachelorette is a bachelorette no longer. Also, we invited Pitbull.”

STOP i actually screamed vfdkhbgfd

The car ride to the derby feels like your own personal Saw trap, if Jigsaw wore a ridiculous hat and was actually your mother.

i desperately need u to know that im in love w the way ur brain works but also… SCREAAMMM the fact that the derby scene actually made it into the fic!!!! im actually getting a little emotional ngl… also obsessed w the way the whole part is executed, i love watching them bumble through the whole thing in an incredibly endearing way

“Absolutely,” Joshua says, as if there is a gun held to his pretty head. “Among all the garbage and the girl next to me, I suppose nothing else really mattered.”

like come on this is everything to me. when will someone say this about me also Josh rapid firing horse puns is so dear to me

“Well, why can’t you?” you ask. “Minus the Beatles thing. Pick better music.”

the only reason no one likes her (in royal circles duh) is because shes always right

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he replies. Under the bluebird sky of late morning, lips upturned and eyes bright, Joshua may be a sight you could get used to. Someday. “Brought you a coffee. I can’t have you sucking off a bean—the reporters would go crazy.” 

your comedic timing is so impeccable i wish this was a book so i could scribble all over it and slap it on my knees when im laughing at one of ur jokes and im Serious

OKAY hold on i need to go to part 2 asap i’ll see u there :-)

title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.   notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. very special thanks to @meiozis for all their help with worldbuilding and @wuahae for bearing with me through the endless drafts, scene changes, second guessing, horrible word choices, etc. you are the only reason this got done, and i love you to the moon and back <3 [read part 2 here!]

Here, in the dark, there is just you. 

The strobe lights press into your skin with all the brilliance of the sun, there's half a Modelo running down your leg, and you think you kissed the stranger behind you last week, but if you close your eyes, it's just you. No rules, no five second curtseys, no talk about the throne or whoever's ass happens to be keeping it warm at the moment. 

Here, you're nobody, and it's perfect. 

"I'm getting more champagne," Somi says, her voice careening over the music. "You sure Jihoon doesn't want any?" 

You glance back at him. He's flattened up against the back wall, holding your purse, like a raccoon caught going through the trash. This is one of the many trials he's forced to endure for your entertainment, but it's his job–not as your closest friend, but as your legally employed bodyguard. 

"No, he's on duty." 

"Right," she slurs. "Sometimes I forget you're a literal princess." 

If only it were that easy. Five drinks in and you think you can still feel your mother's vice grip on your arm and all the little white crescents of her french manicure. 

You love this song–at least, you think you do. You're too drunk to tell, but it doesn't matter. The dance floor is muggy, sardine-packed with one warm body after another, and it's heaven. The crowd moves, and you move with them. Shakira waits for no one. 

Somi must have secured another bottle of Cristal already. Soonyoung, your other partner-in-crime, hands you a flute and you take it, the glittery foam already bubbling over the lip. 

"Cheers." Out of his too-drunk mouth, it sounds like a new word altogether, but you bring your glass to his anyway. 

Tomorrow, you have a meeting with your parents. This, unlike all of your other involvements, is actually important, they said, and their voices had wound around you like a snare. 

When it gets late, Jihoon will sling your arm over his shoulders and haul you back to the palace, still tipsy and holding your stilettos to your chest like a shield. Tomorrow will come, and it's then when you'll have to try to be good. It's a useless, stupid affair, but you'll go through the motions anyway. 

But tonight, there is you and the music and the wonderful laughter of your friends, and you don't have to be anything at all. 

"Cheers," you tell Soonyoung, and you drink. 

--

There are four large topiaries in the palace garden: all lions. They stand tall in their planters, majestic and hairy with French lavender. Today you notice that the rightmost one's nose has been pruned off by accident, and he stands, snoutless, staring at his green brothers and sisters. 

You know this because this is the view from the study, and it has never changed. There is only one study in the east wing, and it is small and useless and the perfect room for your parents to sit you down and remind you that you do not, in fact, own a single thing about your own life. 

There is nothing new about this ritual. Even as a child, when you were more desperate to please, you could never be the right kind of daughter to your parents or princess to your country. Again and again, you landed yourself here, in trouble once more. 

So you stopped trying–you would find these four walls anyway, no matter what you did. Why not enjoy your Fridays instead?

By now, you’ve memorized the carvings on the armrest of the chair you’re in (a knobby column, then underneath, the whorl of a seashell). There are thirty-four terracotta stones on the way to the fountain, all spaced perfectly apart, sanded down to the millimeter. 

The scene remains unchanged. Your mother now stares down at you over the bridge of her nose, with that tight-lipped frown you've gotten so used to. Your father paces near the window, either wondering why you can't be softer, more pliable, like your older brother Jeonghan, or, alternatively, why one of the lions is missing a nose. Maybe both.

"Enjoy yourself yesterday?" your mother asks. 

"Yes," you reply, out of other answers.

"Wonderful. Then our early morning briefing with PR was good for something. You should be grateful last night's pictures won't make it out of the darkroom." 

Her voice, bitter and incisive, makes the hangover bubble up in your stomach. You and the tabloids weren't exactly on good terms, but it wasn't your fault so many people seemed to care about what you were wearing or who you were out with. 

"What did you want to meet about?" you ask, hoping to change the subject. 

You can't put your finger on it, but there's a cloying, heavy energy hanging on you. You feel as though you're on the precipice of something, although that could just be the consequences of all that Cristal ready to reintroduce themselves to your digestive system. 

Your mother clears her throat. 

"We have arranged for you to marry someone." 

And all at once, it seems as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. There's a sharp pain lodged somewhere between your chest, your stomach, and your unhappy liver. The larks sing emptily in the garden. 

"What?" Your voice sounds like it's unraveling somewhere in your throat. Quickly, frantically, you grasp at the faraway possibility that it can't possibly mean what you think it does. Marry? You can’t even remember the last time you thought of going on a second date with someone. Now you might actually throw up. 

"Prince Joshua, of the Hong family. The crown prince of–" 

"Acros. I know," you interrupt, the words jumping out of you in shock and anger. 

Of course you know who Joshua Hong is–Acros is a tiny, unremarkable country nestled into the border of your much bigger one, and Joshua their crown jewel. If you were the nation's problem, he was their darling. A bland thing to coo at when life got boring, the walking embodiment of a media training session. Smile and nod, smile and nod. He might as well be AI generated.

You wouldn't last a day with him. Not with your impatience, your opinions, or that loud mouth your parents always scold you for. Your mind swims with the mental image of the two of you on a gaudy parade float, doing that stupidly slow wave everyone seemed to insist on.

"Wonderful. So you'll pack a bag? The Hong family will be thrilled to meet you tomorrow," says your father.

"Why?" you ask. Your voice wobbles, treading over that childlike waver you never learned to control. "Is this to punish me?" 

"My dear, your brother will be ascending to the throne soon," your mother answers, looking you dead in the eyes. "It’s his face that needs to be on the front page, not you in another abomination of a swimsuit. The Hongs will keep enough of an eye on you.” 

She's right. She's always been right. Maybe not about the swimsuit, but you haven’t exactly been the PR princess your family needed you to be. If anything, you would think it made Jeonghan look better by comparison, but you know that your parents would prefer you to make appearances in something other than Deuxmoi’s Sunday Spotted. But the royal charade never fit you well either; it clings and sticks and bunches up at the seams like a cheap Halloween costume. 

"The Hongs thought their country would benefit from our money. It was an easy decision, really," your mother finishes, as if that makes you feel any less like a silly, bikini-clad pawn in a game of chess you never asked to play. 

"Does Jeonghan know?" 

"He sees its purpose,” your father says simply, like that was all that mattered. “You will too, in due time.”

He nods solemnly, which is how he closes every conversation–just another turn of the silent knife. As your parents turn to leave, their silken garbs trail behind them like ink in still water. Business as always, especially with you. 

"Your brother will be coming home from his press tour this week," your mother says on her way out. "You mustn't ruin this for him. The car leaves for Acros in the morning." 

There's a mean, barbed feeling in your heart. You don't know whether to scream or to cry, so you do what your mother taught you to do. You sit, stilled by a feeling of hopelessness, and let yourself be emptied. 

--

When you were thirteen, you learned how to ride a horse. 

Not the impractical, side-saddle way drilled into you when you were a little girl, with your skirt billowing over the fender and catching in the stirrups, but how to really ride a horse. 

It was on a night much like tonight–indigo and starless. Your brother had climbed up the marble trellis, his teenage, noodle body a perfect fit for scaling the lattice, and threw a stone at your window, just like you had seen in the movies. Jeonghan was still young, then, rebellious and unchanged by the throne. 

It was him who laced up your riding boots, hoisted you on your first horse, and pressed the reins into your palms. You remember the unforgiving hold of the leather saddle, not yet broken in. You were so sore the next day, you were bed-bound–truly a punishment worse than death, if not for another reminder that everything you do ends up hurting you a little. 

"It's great," Jeonghan had told you, breathless and haloed by the moonlight. "You can just ride. nowhere to go and no one to answer to." 

You had spent the summer this way. Every night, you learned the sound of the forest at twilight, chasing Jeonghan's mud-splattered palomino. In the mornings, breakfast consisted of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and whispering about whatever misadventure you had found yourselves tangled in the night before. 

That was before he had come of age. Before your father gave him the Throne Talk, and before he was whisked away into endless meetings and etiquette lessons and parliaments. Your inside jokes became foul, overripe in his newly coached mouth. He even learned to play golf, and he hated golf. 

Past August, you don't think you ever got your brother back.

You slide the oaken doors of the stables open, feeling your arms squeeze underneath your riding shirt. Here, it’s always quiet after sundown.

It hasn't changed since the day you first snuck in with Jeonghan. You let the green scent of the hay fill your lungs, the sleep-stir of the horses like music to your ears. Dokyeom has left the tack room open by "accident" once more, likely to avoid catching you picking the lock with a bobby pin like he had a few months ago. 

"Hey, you," you whisper, coming to the stall of your own horse. Astrid, a bay thoroughbred, was Jeonghan's gift to you on your 18th birthday, a wistful reminder of a summer now past its prime. "No surprise here, but I had a really, really bad day." 

Astrid, oblivious, noses at your palm in search of a nonexistent sugar cube. Somehow, this brings the anxious chatter of your mind to a crescendo—would Astrid come with you to Acros? When would that happen? More importantly, when were you moving? You think of a too-warm summer morning, the ridiculous, oversized brim of one of your mother's sunhats, and a moving truck. That, and a country ready to delete you from its ranks. 

It's now, with the bridle in your fists, that you hear the wheedling groan of the stable door as it slides open. Without thinking, you quickly push out the first excuse you have. "I apologize, I was—" 

"It's me." 

Jihoon. 

You would tease him about his fear of ponies—perhaps it's because he is quite literally the same size as them—but you think hearing another person tell you off would officially push you over the edge. You don't want to be dramatic, but you don't even know if Acros even had horses. 

That, and somehow he's both the first and the last person you want to see. The guilt feels a bit heavier when you know his life is about to change too, in no small part due to your own failings.

"Jihoon, I…" you start. There’s an apology that’s been sitting on your tongue, one you haven’t quite learned to spit up yet. You don’t know who it’s for—yourself, or everyone else—but Jihoon interrupts you before you can finish your thought. 

"You forgot your jacket," Jihoon replies. 

For once, you can't read him. You wonder if he's thinking about if he'd get along with the other bodyguards, but, more likely, he's probably pitying you. You're the last person in the world that should be in an arranged marriage, and even someone who kills people for a living could tell. 

"I'll be in the foyer." 

You don't exchange any more words. Jihoon knows that there is nothing he can say that will erase what's about to happen, and like always, he is right.

After you saddle up, Astrid takes you to the forest like usual. Honestly, you've lost count of the times you've come out here to cry, usually about a boy you don’t even like, or, worse, Jeonghan declining your weekly Facetime session again. But now, you think you both know this time is very different. 

"Astrid," you groan. "Joshua looks like a Ken doll from hell. He probably pronounces tomato like tomahto and has a closet dedicated to his tweed collection. I can't marry him." 

Astrid is none the wiser. You wish she was human for a moment so you could show her the crater-sized hole that "prince joshua google images" left in your browser history. 

"Do you think he only listens to classical music? I think a Kim Petras song would kill him instantaneously." 

The mental image of Joshua Hong being struck down by the first ten seconds of Throat Goat makes you laugh, but you still don't feel far away enough from the truth.

You remember your 21st birthday, a balmy spring Friday. Jeonghan had been helping out at the local youth theater, and the opening night of their production was coincidentally the same day. Jeonghan had never been one for theater (last time, he had fallen asleep during Mamma Mia, of all musicals). You knew the press turnout was expected to be huge, but the whole thing felt like one big charade to you. 

So you had planned your big birthday bash—you only get one 21st, after all—that day. The paparazzi fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Unsurprisingly, drunk, hot girls made for a better story than Greek theater. 

You remember the raw, stinging look Jeonghan had in his eyes the next morning. He didn't even have to say anything, but you knew. The memory carves out an abyss in your chest. You knew you should have done better for your brother, but he didn’t even feel like your brother anymore. 

Still, actions have consequences, and this was a hell of a consequence. Even out here, the inconvenient reality of it seems closer than ever. but you're out of time. The night fades fast, especially ones like these. 

So you press your heart to Astrid's mane, the pale moon high over the both of you, and you ride. 

--

Late spring is kind to Acros. 

The tulips push their bright heads out of the dirt, winking and blazing in the daylight, and the green fields stretch so far they look like water. 

You had spent the car ride with your nose pressed to the window, watching all the sun-bleached buildings zip by. You mustn't ruin this for Jeonghan. It spins around in your head like an old pair of shoes in a washing machine. 

Now you stand in the grand foyer, your parents on either side of you. Jihoon hovers behind, holding the overstuffed duffel bag you had rushed to pack this morning. 

A hushed arrival such as this was unbecoming of your family, but it was necessary. your parents had stressed that the arranged part of the deal was not meant to be public knowledge because it was bad for optics. To you, the arrangement was actually the entire deal. That, and you and optics never exactly got along. 

Waiting for Joshua and his parents gives you a moment to observe what could be your new home, although you’re still waiting for the miraculous plot twist that will save you from your fate. 

That being said: you’ve set foot in plenty of nice places, but if HGTV ran segments for castles, this would certainly be the blueprint. It’s smaller than the palace in Cotria, but you like that—it’s cozier, less cold-seeming. 

The filigreed ceilings vault dizzyingly high, and the chandelier above the muraled walls is set afire with the noontime sun. the blushing azaleas cascade from their pots, and they line the hallways with joyous pops of white and pink. breaking the spell is the distant staccato of several sets of footsteps on marble, and you straighten your back, as if by divine command. 

Three figures approach you: Joshua and his parents. Even from a distance, you can see the trained walk of royalty, their shoulders straight enough to hold water. You’ll give credit where credit is due—they look even less thrilled to meet you than you are to meet them.

Unfortunately, up close, Joshua is more handsome than the cameras would betray. He's taller than you had imagined, too. without trying, it looks like he jumped out of a shitty Disney movie, one where the prince says two words and still gets the girl. More than that, you notice how his face is like glass—unwavering, cruelly still. One wrong move, and you'd break him. 

"Your highnesses," you say, lowering your head in a pronounced curtesy. 

Joshua bows in response, like clockwork. He reaches for your hand, then brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. 

At once, you feel your hackles jump up, even though many a man has done far nastier to you. You can’t tell what pisses you off more: a, the fact that he smells like a hotel lobby, or b, that he managed to get his mouth on you in less than five seconds. 

"I'm elated we have the privilege of welcoming your daughter into our home," Joshua's mother says. Like him, she is staggeringly elegant and even harder to read. "She's beautiful." 

Fortunately, she has picked the one compliment that your parents can agree on without lying through their teeth. You watch them laugh and titter amongst themselves, and it's now that you notice Joshua has been looking at you this whole time.

You think look is too kind of a word, though. It's something colder than that, more clinical, and you really don't like it. Your stylist had spent upwards of two hours today in front of your vanity this morning, mostly in a losing battle with a pair of fake lashes, and you wonder if one of them is crooked. That, or Joshua is similarly wondering just how he will endure a life wedded to you. 

"Joshua, please," his mother chides, and you watch him almost immediately pivot towards her, like he’s on wheels. "Where are your manners? You should show the princess around. Get to know each other a bit before press tomorrow." 

Press. Of course. Your least favorite word. You vaguely remember your parents mentioning it in the car this morning, but it must have gotten lost among all the other terrible things they'd told you. 

Your head starts to hurt. Joshua keeps smiling at you, empty, doll-like.

"Yes, I'd love that," you say, feeling like a deflating balloon. You were hoping his company will be better than watching four grown adults fall all over each other, but you're starting to doubt that. 

Joshua offers you his arm, and you take it anyway. 

"We'll be off then," he chirps before bowing once more. His freakishly shiny shoe nudges yours to remind you to do the same. Begrudgingly, you listen, watching your shellacked, angry expression in the patina of his loafers. 

Not a good start, but what did you expect?

You tamp down your irritation and let him lead you into the Great Hall. It's a shiny, golden tunnel, studded with glossy oil paintings of his parents, his grandparents, then the next set of old people before them. Their eyes stare at you, pools of hazy paint in their moon faces. You briefly imagine your painting up there, with Joshua's hand hovering meekly over your waist, unused to being more than two feet away from a woman his age.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Joshua says. "I think I've only seen you in pictures." 

He's referencing the one of many “encounters” you've had with the paparazzi, a la yesterday night. They take trashy photos, overexposed and grainy from the camera flash, with your ass most likely in the frame. 

You choose to let it slide—you have no choice, really. At least you have an ass. 

"The pleasure is mine," you reply. "I believe you were at the cricket championships a few months ago, right?" 

"Correct. Do you watch? I don't believe I saw you." 

"No, but my brother was there." Your footsteps echo against the marbled walls. "Just trying to think of your last public appearance," you offer unhelpfully, since you and he both know those are few and far between. 

"That's right. He mentioned you were busy," Joshua replies. "Glastonbury was that weekend, was it not?" 

He's right. It was, but you don't like the insinuation he's making. You weren't at Glastonbury anyway—your parents wouldn't let you attend, and Jihoon was unwilling to come up with a cover story for you. Because you would rather watch paint dry than attend another cricket game, you instead spent it with takeout and reruns of Rupaul's Drag Race. 

"Can't recall," you answer. "Doesn't matter. I'm not one for cricket, anyway."

"Didn't know you had a choice."

You watch Joshua halfheartedly gesture to the Great Hall. The seemingly mile-long dinner table is empty now, save for a gratuitously piled fruit bowl. 

Your country frequently hosts guests, but the Hongs are notoriously insular. You imagine the four of you, crammed together at one end of the table, making horrendous small talk every morning over wilted danishes and raspberry preserves. Somehow, your mood worsens even more than you thought possible.

"Can I see the library?" you ask in an attempt to pivot. 

"Of course. Do you enjoy reading?" 

"A normal amount." You pass by another set of windows and take note of the rose garden outside, verdant with the May sunshine. Astrid has a bit of a penchant for eating roses, which would definitely complicate your plan to smuggle her in. No matter—you’ve done worse. "I studied political science at university, so I got a healthy dose of it." 

"Didn't we all?" Joshua chuckles.

He pushes the door open to the library, which is just as lavish as the rest of the palace. You wonder how well-worn it is, how many spines have creases in them, how many dedications were speckled with a funny annotation or two. But judging by first impressions, you wouldn't be surprised if all the books still had their dust jacket on. 

"I mean, I read an insane amount of Dan Brown," you reply. "Not many of us can say we've solved the Davinci code, you know." 

You hoped this would crack a laugh out of him, but his grin is thinner than an eyebrow from the 2000s. Truthfully, you would compare this conversation to a death by a thousand papercuts, but somehow that feels preferable to the guillotine of discussing the terms and conditions of your rapidly impending marriage. You feel as though that would be violating some rule you aren't yet aware of, and you're unwilling to endure the patent leather consequences of another faux pas. 

"I've heard of it," says Joshua after much thought. "My parents were shuttling me between meetings and private lessons, so, unlike some, I was quite busy during university." 

You're not about to explain that you were equally as busy as him. Something tells you that he'd be too prideful to believe you anyway. 

"How difficult. Surely you were able to have some fun," you say, your voice betraying your distaste. "Or were you too good for that?" 

Too far. 

"I did what my position allowed," is Joshua's terse reply, and you know you've crossed a line. Still, it dazes you that the man standing next to you may have never done anything for himself in his life. Even Jeonghan did, before your parents really tightened the reins. 

The air buzzes with a silence sharp enough to make you bleed. You wish literally anyone else was standing next to you, but you realize there are no more horses or emergency cabs or Jihoons to rescue you from this one. 

"How about I take you to our room? I hope you'll find it comfortable." 

You glance to your right to catch a glimpse of Joshua. He smiles, a dutiful press of the lips, and you watch it ripple.

--

"Jihoon, it is so much worse than I thought." 

You sit on the plush carpeting of your bedroom floor, amongst your small disaster of things. Jihoon examines you, one eyebrow raised, as he leans against the bedroom door. 

"He's not around, right?" 

Jihoon shakes his head.

"I don't get it," you sigh. "I go out. I get drunk. I have a little fun on the weekends. I don't see how any of this makes me a bad person." 

"You know how traditional your families are." Jihoon bends down to pick up a hair bow that jumped ship from the vanity. "It's just how it is." 

"He treats me like some high school delinquent. I tried, but he has no sense of humor. No joi de vivre. I think he would actually explode if he knew I went out two days ago." 

"Give it time," Jihoon supplies unhelpfully. "I don't know French, but he can't be that bad. You just met him." 

“Yeah. Usually that’s a good thing. I’ve fucked people i know less about.” 

Jihoon shakes his head and laughs, one of those little cackly ones he reserves for your company. 

"Well, you have been with worse," he tuts. "Definitely worse." 

"Jihoon, be serious. This is the rest of my life we're talking about." 

“I know." He draws his lips into a line, likely searching for the right thing to say. "This sucks. I wouldn't be good at this either." 

"You're talking to me. I don't think there's a single royal thing I can do right."

He's out of words, so he bends down to awkwardly pat you on the head, which, in all your years of knowing him, is the most affection he can muster. This is why you prefer horses to Jihoon for therapy, although you appreciate the effort. 

"I'd stay, but they want me to go to some meeting," he says, jerking his thumb towards the door. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

So he leaves you, desolate and linen-covered. Back to square one. 

The room seems to echo with how empty it feels. The bare walls are painted champagne, a rich, indifferent color. They soar to an arched ceiling lined with baroque crown moulding. There's a large window facing the garden, framed by deep green velvet. Atop the vanity cradled to the wall, the ivy of the wrought mirror curls at the edges, as if escaping. The chandelier hangs low, fat and pear-shaped, and its crystals douse the room in gauzy lamplight.

At least the canopy bed looks comfortable. It's the one thing keeping you from calling this place a veritable jail cell, which still seems like an understatement. For once, you miss your own bedroom. Granted, it didn’t look much different on the surface. but despite all the paneling and the heavy velvet, you still like to think it had some personality. You still keep your pillow pet on your bed (a horse named Robert). The back wall is chipped from a Gossip Girl poster your mom made you take down.  

Before you’re able to get too sentimental, the unwelcome sight of your future husband steals you from your thoughts. 

"Evening," Joshua says, stepping into the room. He's so quiet, it takes you aback. "Still unpacking?" 

"Sorry." You gesture around you. "I underestimated my ability to overpack."

"You should have told the staff," he says, surveying the damage. "Do you need help?" 

"No," you insist. Somehow the prospect of him getting on the ground to sort out all of your things upsets you, even more than him touching all of your unmentionables. "No. Please. Just ignore me."

"Alright." 

Joshua seems to take no issue with that, gratefully. He takes a seat on the chaise at the foot of the bed. He's got a copy of Anna Karenina under his arm, probably to weigh the pros and cons of cheating on you. You don't blame him—in fact, maybe it would make your doomed marriage exciting enough to be tolerable. 

"PR event tomorrow," you start, folding up a nightdress. "Bet you're excited for that." 

“As excited as one can be before announcing their arranged marriage," he replies dryly. "But surely you have enough experience with the press for the both of us." 

So that’s how he wanted to play. Fine. You wouldn’t let him walk all over you a second time. 

"Well, I'd hope all those classes you took would be good for something."

"That's rich, coming from the case study on bad media training." 

"Oh, please," you snap. "At least I know how to have a good time." 

"I was having a great time before I was informed this was happening." 

"Forgive me. I had no idea you were so invested in my personal life." You huff as you heave an oversized armful of clothes to the closet. “Think TMZ has any job openings?” 

"Very funny," he retorts. Joshua holds up a skimpy black dress that's fallen from your pile, one well acquainted with the midnight grease of one too many nightclubs. "You dropped this, by the way. I don't really think the nightlife here will be quite to your taste, though." 

"Oh right, because this is where happiness goes to die, huh?" You snatch it back from him, feeling the knot of anger in your gut flare. 

The room seems to pulse with an uncomfortable silence, red-hot with unsaid words. You recognize the all too familiar way Joshua sets his jaw back, and you're transported all the way to the study in the east wing, snoutless lion, terracotta steps, and all. He’s not any different from anyone else, so you’re not sure why you expected anything else. 

You do the only thing you can do—bite your tongue. 

"Look," you finally say, gathering the wherewithal to call for a truce. "I know that we didn't ask for this." 

Joshua laughs. Actually, it's the first time you've heard it since you've met, and it would be an otherwise tolerable, even nice, sound if it wasn't directed right at you.

"Right, because who doesn't want to have to babysit someone for the rest of their life?" 

You take a hard swallow.  You've both done enough damage for tonight, although you'd love to see his expression when you call him the live-action version of Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Maybe another time. 

Instead you think of Jeonghan, stuck in his meetings and sunk into this new, starched form of himself that you find difficult to recognize. Still, he's your brother, and you'd hate to see him suffer for it. 

"Stop. I'll be good," you say. "I promise. I know there's a lot at stake for the both of us." 

You can hear Joshua's long, drawn exhale. The furrow dug between his brows flattens out, and he seems to be reminded of everything they taught you both in Conflict Resolution 101. 

"I apologize. I got out of line," he says. You watch the cogs turn on that unfortunately pretty face of his. You hope he finally reveals that he has a much better, kinder personality that he was waiting to debut, but he doesn't. Instead he picks up yet another fallen item from your stash and hands it to you (this time, a much more presentable blouse). 

"I know we don't like each other—" You hold up a hand to interrupt him from lying to you. “—but we can do our best for the cameras. Because that matters. Hate me all you want in private." 

"Okay." He gives you a defeated look, which is all you suppose you'll get out of him today. "Deal." 

That night, there are no more backhanded compliments, quips, or mean-spirited attempts at sarcasm. 

You sink into your side of the bed, a damask-woven vat of quicksand, and watch the spears of light dance on the ceiling. If you had known your last outing was the one a few days ago, maybe you would have drank a little more, stayed out later. Maybe you wouldn't have even gone home. 

Joshua has been reading on the other side of the bed, which seems like oceans apart. The metronomic turn of his pages would have put you to sleep if it wasn't for this new fear, a black, trembling one, that's now taken residence in your chest. It feels like you are further from yourself than you've ever been, and you don't know how to get back. 

"Is it too bright for you?" Joshua's voice, now tempered by the stillness of the evening, pulls you out of your thoughts. "I can turn the lamp off." 

"It's ok," you groan. "Can't really sleep. Don't worry about it." 

He doesn't say anything. Instead you hear the oiled pull of the bedside nightstand before he places something on the bed beside you.

It's a book. Specifically, one of those trashy romances that they only sell at the airport because no one would be brave enough to read them anywhere else.

"It's no Dan Brown," he says. "Hopefully still to your liking." 

You sit up against the headboard and flip through the pages. The prince of Acros owning a book with the words "juicy", "mewling", and "best friend's brother" in the first fifty pages are enough to tide you over for the night. Probably the next week, to be honest.

"Yes, indeed, your highness. Of the raunchy summer fling." 

Joshua smiles, and this time, you think it's a real one. 

--

You hate mornings. 

You thought this one would be different, probably due to the fact that you would soon be standing in front of a few too many cameras to announce your tragic fate to the entire world. Unfortunately, it's like all your other mornings—rushed, nauseous, and now with all the added anxiety of a semi-non consensual public appearance. 

"Five minutes!" you holler as best you can, a hair pin wiggling in the corner of your mouth. Rule number one of a hard launch: don't be caught looking complacent. Even if the other half of the launch would rather be with anyone other than you. 

Joshua's in the attached bathroom doing his hair. Like everything else he does, it is painfully calculated. He might be the only person in the world who takes "pea-sized" seriously as a measurement tool. 

But even as he so carefully measures his pomade, pump by pump, you don't miss the way his eyes skim over your figure as you lean over the vanity chair to apply your lipstick. Maybe it's because your ass is practically vacuum sealed into your sundress, or maybe he's just looking for another fight to pick. Either way, there's a small part of you that takes pride in this, even if just a little. 

"Ready?" Joshua asks, switching off the bathroom light. You hate to admit it, but he looks good in a sports jacket. You remind yourself that you had to literally rock-paper-scissors this morning to use the vanity mirror because you fogged the bathroom up after your shower. "It's not a pageant." 

"Shush. You are so rude. Never interrupt a girl when she's getting ready." 

In the mirror, you watch Joshua huff behind you. Then he procures a little black box from his pocket, and a crazy sort of feeling washes over you before you remind yourself to be normal. Ten-year-old you would have cried and threatened arson if she knew this is how you would eventually be proposed to, but you have no choice. 

You're sure Joshua feels the same. He was probably hoping for something classic with all the works, and instead he's got a pissed-off Jihoon and you, internationally renowned harlot. Funny how things turn out.

"Any minute now," bitches Jihoon from the other side of the door. 

You close your compact and turn around to face Joshua, who's still fumbling with the box.

"I'm sure this is not what you anticipated," he says, finally cracking it open. “But—" 

"No speech. Just put it on." You stick your left hand out, still glittery from last week’s manicure. "Not like it means much anyway." 

"Yeah."

And just like that, it is done. You feel the shock of Joshua's huge hands over yours, then the unceremonious bite of the cold band. He doesn't linger. 

You hold your newly engaged hand in front of you. The ring must have looked better in the box—on you, it seems out of place, gaudy, yet another thing you can't quite fit into. It squeezes your finger a bit, but it'll do. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

"Let's get this over with."

If romance wasn’t already dead, then it died here, today, in your prison cell bedroom. 

You have no time to lament this, as Joshua’s already half out the door. Quickly, he seems to shed his foul, argumentative inside personality and slip into a second-skin, one that is more poised, gracious, and luminous.

Today's objective is supposed to be simple: friendly, premarital pictures to accompany a written statement to the public announcing your engagement. No paparazzi, no journalists. Still, you're starting to see why your parents decided it was a good idea to stick you with this guy. 

In the foyer, your families await you. It's as if their gaze can slow time—at least four people approved your outfit, and still, the weight of their eyes on you, ever appraising, is crushing. Immediately, your mother starts rearranging the strands of hair on the top of your head and fiddling with the sleeves of your dress, like you're some sort of doll. 

"Come, come," a member of the PR team urges. "Everything is set up. We'll be quick." 

There's a frenetic, tense energy over the palace. It's clear that this marriage is a gambit no one is happy with, and today would make it very, very real. 

Outside, there is a lone photographer. The sun, morning-ripe, reflects off his camera lens like a third eye. The lawn, freakishly green, sprawls out around you, and the blue spruce frames the scene, perfect by design. 

"I just need you to stand next to each other and smile," he says. "That's all, right?" he directs this towards your PR team, about seven too many for a task like this. One of them whispers something in his ear. Your parents watch from the shaded doorstep like wax figures in a museum. 

You and Joshua stand shoulder to shoulder, yearbook photo style. 

"Bit closer," the photographer calls out, and you smush yourself against his arm, close enough that you can appreciate he's got some muscle on him. "Alright. Hold still." 

Click. You've always hated the flash, but you root yourself obediently to the concrete. Your cheeks hurt from smiling. Click. 

Your mother interrupts her conversation with a staff member—likely haggling over the minutia of the statement—and says, "Look happier," as if you're in some dystopian advertisement for a new car. 

"She's talking to you," Joshua says through the grit of his fake, pink smile. 

"Right, because you're such a peach." 

You just want to go back inside and have breakfast. 

You place a tentative hand on Joshua's bicep and turn to him, beaming like you would at a hot bartender when there are five other people waiting for a drink. 

There's a glimmer of surprise in his expression before he matches you. You can see why people dote on him so much—his cheeks get round, and his eyes magically gain the sparkles that people pay for on Facetune. God really seems to have wasted a perfect face on him. 

"Move your hand up so we can see the ring." You obey, feeling the firm cord of his arm underneath you, and you wonder where the gym is in the palace. Joshua was certainly gatekeeping it from you. "Perfect." 

You stand there, living your America's Next Top Model nightmare, before the photographer hits you with, "A kiss for the camera, yeah?" 

All the blood drains from your face. You think you actually say Huh? aloud. Joshua opts to turn to his parents to intervene, which would be funny in literally any other scenario except this one. 

"You heard him," his father replies. "Act like you're actually engaged." 

Honestly, it was a fair request. No one wanted to take any chances. Plausible rumors of an arranged marriage would backfire spectacularly. Jeonghan wouldn't see the front cover of anything ever again, and the entirety of Acros would wonder just how deep in the shitter they were that Joshua was forced to marry you. 

Your parents were already so far into the conspiracy, you overheard them talking about using unpublished paparazzi pictures and rebranding them as times you snuck off to see your unfortunate lover. Point taken. 

"Okay, okay," you laugh nervously. "Of course." 

You face Joshua, steeling yourself, and lean in. The world seems to fall away, but not how you like—it feels as though you've been sucked out of your own body and dropped into a new one that doesn't know what a kiss is or how to do it. 

He's just like anyone else, you tell yourself. You're at the club. They're playing Everytime We Touch by Cascada. 

Soon all you know is the heat of your cheeks, the shaking flat of your palm over Joshua's shoulder, and the wet pressure of what feels like a pair of lips, soft but also very unwilling. 

Click. Click. Then it's over. Everyone huddles around the camera, like animals to a watering hole. Shame, hot and heavy, seems to drape itself over you. 

"Can we get one more?" the photographer asks.

Fuck. Your stomach drops. You can't even glare at Joshua. 

"Sure thing," Joshua says easily, unaware he was the reason it went so badly in the first place. 

You take a deep breath. You imagine a good Kylie Minogue song and a tall stranger with pecs that could fit into a bra, and your eyes flutter shut. 

You decide to go for it this time. Unfortunately, you and your inept partner are on entirely opposite pages again, and you almost miss each other by a mile. When you do get it right, it's messy, two teenagers fumbling in a closet with the lights off. 

Once everyone sees this massacre, it seems they resign themselves to the same conclusion you had long ago. Someone throws a thumbs up above their head, and everyone clears out so fast, it's like nothing ever happened. 

Soon, it's just you, Joshua, and your mother with a red pen and the manuscript. Your heart is still buzzing in your chest, even though you and Joshua are now standing at a distance that makes you believe in the cheese touch again. 

"Now that wasn’t so bad," she says, before escorting the two of you back inside. Perhaps lying cushions the blow of a bad decision, but you're already in too deep. The script, the cameras, even your mother's glossy words—your life is starting to feel like a permanent movie set, and you don't know how to clock out. 

The first thing you do is take off the ring. It's starting to look more and more like costume jewelry on your untrained, bumbling hand. Even still, you can still feel its ghost on your finger, see the glare of the camera flash in the laser-cut facets. 

Worse, you watch Joshua shrug off his sport jacket, likely wondering how exactly that went so wrong, and you can feel that same sensation, still warm, right over your lips.

--

"Save me, red wine, save me." 

Home, sweet home. You're back in Cotria for the rest of the week. This morning's stint was the only thing you had on the schedule, and you told Joshua you had some business to attend to at home. 

Said business was a Niçoise salad and half a bottle of wine, but no one had to know that part. Your struggle meals were your own business, and you think you will actually disintegrate on the spot if you have to sit through another conversation about World War II with Joshua's dad. The one you had at dinner last night was plenty. 

The restaurant you’re at is a familiar haunt, but not too familiar. The ass-kissers and the groupies have gotten good at keeping their heads on a swivel, and you’re not exactly planning on another encounter with a camera. But here, the crowd is quiet enough, the food good enough, the service fast enough. It’s enough, which you’ve come to prefer. 

That's the other thing about Cotria—there’s an overabundance of everything. Department stores, parlors, dog cafes, polished bars with overpriced cocktails. It’s almost a rarity to find a place like this, quiet enough to actually talk. 

"You must be in the fucking trenches," Somi says, shaking her head. "When's the press release getting published?"

"Next week," you groan. "The good news is that they want us to go to the derby afterward."

"Okay, miss horse girl," Somi says, clinking her wine glass against yours. "You betting this year?" 

"No, I shouldn't." You shovel another forkful of leaves into your mouth. "But I really hope I get to watch it instead of pretending to like a guy the whole time." 

"I didn't see you pretending in uni," Somi says, cocking an eyebrow up at you. "And those guys are ugly. This guy isn't." 

"Okay, wait," you protest. "Ugly cute. Don't get it twisted. And they don't act like sentient wet paint. This guy sucks." 

You're reminded of the moment before you left the palace this morning. Joshua saw that same black dress that he used against you make its way into your bag, and he gave you the dirtiest stink eye you'd ever seen. 

I'm not above tattling. They were the first words he'd said to you after The Incident. 

Good thing you won't have to, you replied. He didn't even see you out because no one was standing around to clap him on the back for being a good fake fiancé. 

"Whatever." Somi picks a tomato off your plate in exchange for some of her fries. "I wouldn't mind it, is what I'm saying." 

"You slept with the bouncer to get into Annabel’s." 

"Fuck off. He was actually really good. Club entry was just a bonus," she laughs. "That reminds me—you're coming to my birthday, right? Or do you have wifely duties now?" 

"Of course I'm coming!" you insist, feeling the word duty hit like an actual bullet to your chest. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." 

"Just making sure! You know I gotta have my people around." 

You had known Somi since you were in diapers. She's the cousin twice removed of a baron, or a count, or maybe even a viscount–you never were good at keeping track of those kinds of things. Even though you had seen her at countless brunches, coronations, and garden parties, you don't think you actually became friends until you ran into her at a college party in Mykonos. She sidled up to you, smelling like strawberries and the bleachy sting of hair dye, and handed you a cucumber margarita. 

The beer here sucks, she had whisper-shouted to you, right over the shell of your ear. Wanna dance? You were inseparable ever since. 

"It's going to be huge. There are, like, 200 people on the guest list right now. Soonyoung rented a villa, There's gonna be a champagne tower, and the music won't suck. Guaranteed." 

"That sounds perfect," you sigh. "Please tell me there's gonna be a pool. I need to show off my new swimsuit." 

"Duh." Somi rolls her eyes, glittery under her extensions. "The perfect opportunity to show the world that their hottest bachelorette is a bachelorette no longer. Also, we invited Pitbull.” 

“Shut the fuck up. Wait, is he actually coming?” 

”Dunno. Wouldn’t be very Mr. Worldwide of him to flake, though.” 

Pitbull or not, you think of the heat of the strobe lights, the electric trill of the too-loud speakers. You're dancing in a dress that looks like a chunk of the moon, with the little neon ties of your bikini top peeking out the sides. There's a peach highball in your hands and no one is telling you what to do, how to do it, or that you're doing it wrong. 

Then you think of Joshua. Maybe he'd loosen up after a few drinks. Maybe he'd dance with you, put those hands to use on your hips and kiss you like he should have earlier today. Maybe he'd even be good at it. The thought makes your cheeks sting.

“Should I invite Joshua?” Somi says, wrinkling her nose at how you immediately grimace. “What if he’s actually a blast?” 

"No! No. Absolutely not." 

“What if he’s—” Then she drops her singsong voice to a whisper. “Hung? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen those pictures of him in the Galapagos.” 

Unfortunately, you have. A lurid, glassy image of your soon-to-be-husband in a sleazy pair of swim trunks comes into vision. You push past the smile, the unfair pecs, and remind yourself of that horrible, self-righteous twist of the lips that he always has. 

Yes, that’s right. That’s the Joshua you know. 

You grab the wine from her and drink it right from the bottle. 

–

Of course it had to be the one time you’re not late to an event that you forget you had swapped everything in all your purses around. You double check your bag—empty. 

You’re already down by half of your worldly possessions (still at home, your real home), and you probably left the other half on Joshua’s bathroom counter. Yesterday, you got derailed mid-task by Joshua lighting the grossest candle ever. You never thought you’d ever fight over candles of all things, but you couldn’t let him walk away from that conversation thinking wet dirt was a normal, socially acceptable, scent for a bedroom. (—It said moss on the label! —So, dirt. —Moss is not dirt. Maybe you need to go back to school.) 

You fling open the bathroom door, still checking the pockets of your handbag, before you collide into a big, sopping wet wall. 

“What the—?” You look up. The wall is not a wall. No, in fact, it is your fiancé, bare fucking naked. 

Your heart jumps up to your throat. It feels like you walked right into a porno, and you can hear Somi’s self-satisfied, witch cackle right in your ear. His dark hair seems to fall into his eyes just right, a nice change from how he normally gels it up, and you watch the beads of water from the shower, torturously glittery, run down his jaw, the hollow of his neck, right onto his chest. 

Men should not be allowed to have bigger boobs than you, at least, not dowdy Joshua Hong, who normally has the sex appeal of an eraser. And God forbid your eyes travel downward and confirm Somi’s sick and twisted hypothesis, past the washboard abs, the v-line, the trail down his— 

“Sorry, did you need something?” You blink again and Joshua suddenly has a towel wrapped around his waist. And he’s eyeing you like you ate a million cloves of garlic and then proceeded to spit on him. “Or are you just going to stand here and ogle me?” 

“I wasn't—no!” You start snatching things off the counter, anything really, and throwing them into your bag. “I just needed to grab stuff for my… my thing. You’re in the way.” 

“Right, because you need four q-tips and my razor to read a children’s book,” Joshua replies, plucking the offending items out of your purse. “It's almost 12:30, by the way.” 

“Shit. Fuck,” you stammer. You can’t glare at him anymore because you know where your eyes will end up and it is not on his face. “Stop distracting me. Whatever.” 

“Have fun,” is the last thing Joshua tells you before you close the bathroom door, that portal to hell, right back up. 

What you can’t do is return the image of what you saw back to where it came from, the wicked, glistening form of Joshua and his B cup tits. He looked so good, it makes you angry. 

Later, on the walk to the library, you reach for your lip gloss. Instead, you pull out q-tip number five and get mad all over again. 

–

The car ride to the derby feels like your own personal Saw trap, if Jigsaw wore a ridiculous hat and was actually your mother. 

Your engagement was announced to the public just a few days ago. It came with no fanfare, no warning. You were sitting on your bed, making your way through the smut Joshua called a novel, when the news app on your phone kindly notified you that you were now a taken woman. 

To some degree, the media uproar fascinated you. The idea that people with actual journalism degrees were writing headcanons about your honeymoon when you hadn’t even seen Joshua since The Bathroom Incident was surely entertaining, to say the least. But, like everything, the unsaid pressure of being a perfect princess, now part of an even more perfect couple, hangs heavy over you. 

You remind yourself this is supposed to be fun. A real couple would be pawing at each other in the backseat, perhaps pregaming with champagne or fan-casting their pick for Spirit the horse. Instead, you’re stuck rehearsing your pitch to the reporters when they inevitably ask you about how the hell this happened. You wish you could tell them you’re not quite sure either. 

Silently, you look at Joshua. Joshua looks out the window. The world rumbles under you. 

[10:15 am, race 1]

The air seizes, swirls with clay-colored dust in the morning sun. The clubhouse is already heady with the low buzz of conversation—you watch the freckled sunhats and oily toupees bob up and down in the swell of the crowd, deep in the morning’s small talk. You wonder how many of them are talking about you, given how recently the news hit. You’re used to people ignoring your media appearances, not celebrating them. 

Someone, tipping their head down to greet you, hands you a program. Joshua elects to tuck his in his back pocket. People don’t come to the derby to watch the races. Instead, it’s an excuse to gossip, day drink, and gamble, which would ordinarily be a good time for you if you weren’t overly invested in the racing circuit. 

All the way from the entrance to your seats, you were met with a tidal wave of camera flashes, all hungry for a glimpse of your first public appearance as a couple. Alongside this, a decidedly worse flurry of congratulations paired with an overly familiar touch to the shoulder or a limp handshake. Joshua is quick to respond with either a smile or some trite platitude. Your least favorite: We couldn’t be happier. Now he’s just lying for sport. 

“We should find the reporters doing interviews,” Joshua says the second his ass touches the chair, unfazed by the onslaught of perhaps a million different people. “The Sun probably wants to talk to us.” 

You’re not listening—you can’t let on that this whole ordeal is mildly terrifying for you. He has enough reasons to dislike you, and stage fright wouldn’t exactly be a good addition to the list. 

The racehorses have lined up at the track, their manes catching the daylight like holy fire. You like the one on the end. He looks like Peanut, Jeonghan’s stubborn palomino. 

Joshua says your name insistently, curdled with the annoyance that you’ve now become acquainted with, and you catch a stray camera flash from the stands. You have an audience, and the audience demands a show, even if they’re second-rate journalists like the scum from The Sun.  

“Darling,” you reply flatly. “Relax. Let's enjoy the races.” 

The horses stretch their long legs, anxious for the thunderclap of the starter’s pistol. Joshua raises a tired eyebrow before the same realization dawns on him. 

“Absolutely.” He clears his throat. “Darling.” 

You wrap a hand around his arm—somehow he makes hand-holding seem like third base—and watch his shoulders sink with a sigh, like you just popped him. 

Likewise, your highness. Likewise. 

A shot crackles through the air, and you’re off to the races. 

[12:43 pm, race 2.]

"I just have to know—how did you guys meet?" 

You know the duchess of Pemarlia to be beautiful and unashamedly nosy, and she has yet to prove you wrong on either account. 

The last time you saw her was on the beach at Lake Como last year, where she spent the entirety of your conversation asking if Jeonghan was single (and peeking into your bag to see what brand of lipstick you were wearing). Like everyone, she always seems to have a look of appraisal on her face. What makes her different is that she never really bothers to hide it; instead, she wears it like an en-vogue accessory. 

She eyes you with an intensity, sizing up your dress, your tawdry sunhat, your ring. You wonder if she’d agree that marriage didn’t look good on you, but any shorter of a dress, your mother would call you a stripper. And God forbid you leave the house hat-less. 

Now she’s no minotaur. This shouldn’t be much of a problem, save for one very small issue: you actually hadn’t planned your answer to this. You had quibbled over it briefly in the car, but you were too focused on your interview pitch to worry about minor gossip. 

"Well," Joshua starts. Through his smile, you can hear the warning edge of his voice. “It was quite ordinary.” 

"Actually," you cut him off. Not only would his version of this story be boring, it would also be horribly out-of-character for you. You did not come this far for your cover to be blown by Joshua’s lack of imagination. "Josh's parents hosted a—" 

"Brunch," Joshua finishes. Whether his teeth are gritted because he's grinning or frustrated is none of your business. “It was Easter brunch, wasn’t it, sweet pea? Four years ago?” 

The pet name makes you want to puke. Now he’s just trying to piss you off, but you know this is his attempt to play along. He's annoying, not dumb. 

"Yes, we sat across from each other.” You playfully dig your elbow into Joshua’s rock-hard side. “He was giving me the eyes the whole time.” 

You watch your hapless victim giggle, her spidery lashes wide with intrigue. Joshua is a little less pleased. 

“If you could call it that,” he replies. “I think you had chocolate on your nose.”

“Which you so kindly wiped off for me, dear.” You try to peek around the flaxen billows of the duchess’s blowout to watch the horses behind her, but to no avail. “After a morning of staring, we had to do an Easter egg hunt, planned by Joshie himself. I had no idea he loved silly little games like that.” 

“It's because people like the princess get so competitive,” Joshua says, with his laser beam grin boring into your eye sockets. “I believe I found you rummaging through the trash for eggs, like some kind of animal.” 

“Oh my goodness,” the duchess laughs. “How...charming.”  

You feel your eyebrow twitch. Only you’re allowed to ruin your own reputation, but you suppose that’s just another thing your horrible fake fiance gets to take from you. 

“Not as embarrassing as seeing Joshua leer at me from behind the corner,” you retort. “He was so enamored that when I invited him to join me, he got right down on his knees to look through the trash together.” 

“Well, did you find anything?” 

“Yes—”

“No—”

“Well—”

Fuck. Luckily, the duchess is either stupid or wildly entertained by the clown show playing out before her. Maybe both. 

“Cute,” she coos. “You must have been too smitten to notice.” 

“Absolutely,” Joshua says, as if there is a gun held to his pretty head. “Among all the garbage and the girl next to me, I suppose nothing else really mattered.” 

“If that isn’t love, what is?” she asks blithely. 

If only she knew. 

[3:45 pm, race 3]

The sun descends on the stadium, swollen and yellow with the afternoon. 

Last year, you and your friends had a betting ring set up during the racing circuit. Obviously, you had won—not too hard when your competition included Soonyoung, who only bet on horses named after food (sadly, it was not Tater Tot’s year). Somi was no better, and your brother thought every horse deserved a participation award.

This time around, things aren’t so simple. But you’d hate to say that you spent a whole day at the track and didn’t bet on a single race. Life could afford you at least one win for today. 

Again, the horses take their positions at the starting line, wound up like a line of rubber bands. The air heaves with bated breath. 

“Joshua,” you say, folding your hands in your lap as you find your target. “I'd like to propose a bet.” 

“You must be a glutton for punishment.” 

You bite back a laugh as you watch your favorite horse, the palomino, ripple in place. Fans would call her a charity case, but you know better. 

“Pick a horse. Mine is number Three, in the blue.” 

“And if mine wins? What’s in it for me?” he asks. Still, he leans forward, corded forearms on his thighs. You watch him squint as he surveys the field with renewed interest. 

“You pick,” you reply. “Choose wisely. I personally cannot wait to call in a favor from you.” 

“The chestnut one. Number Nine.” So he is competitive. “And likewise. Perhaps I'll hold it over your head until the wedding.” 

Before you can reply, you hear the starting pistol rip clean into the air. The racehorses surge forward, as if a silken ribbon through air. 

“Nine makes sense for you,” you say, eyes fixed before you. “He's flashy, the crowd favorite. Spotless pedigree.” 

“I'm picking your punishment already.” 

“I didn't say he would win.” You feel the lilt of your voice rocking upward, the tremulous beat of your heart against your ribs. “You see, Three’s had a rough season. There she is, passing Four right now.” 

“Nine is still first, though.” 

“It’s not about that,” you reply. “She does this, she starts all the way out back and then flies up. No one suspects anything—it’s like she likes proving people wrong. The first couple races of the season, she was just stretching her legs; they were small, small fry. It’s this one that matters.” 

The saddles are just blurs on the track now. To the march of the hoofbeats, Three lunges past Five, Six. The crowd roars. 

“This will be her first win. I'm counting on it. She’s come really close before.” 

Joshua doesn’t reply. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gaze has shifted. You feel it land somewhere near you, but you’re too engrossed in the race to investigate further. Perhaps he’s admitted defeat preemptively, wisely so. 

“You know your stuff,” he murmurs, the clamor of the audience almost burying him. 

“How can I not?” Three coasts past One and Ten like she’s flying, until it’s just her and unlucky number Nine. “Oh my god. Go, go, go!” 

You and Joshua rise to your feet, as if drawn by a string, now wholly invested in the race. 

“Still beating you, you know.” 

“Not for long! Come on!” 

You watch your darling number Three, against all odds, pull past Joshua’s number Nine, burning a trail past the inevitable finish line. 

From somewhere inside you emerges a joy that you hadn’t felt since this whole ordeal started. You turn to Joshua and clasp his hands between yours, somehow less wooden now, and so, so human. The crowd cheers; they come alive. 

[4:50 pm, races 4 and 5. mainly, the reporter from the sun.] 

The smaller races take place shortly after the headliner, for better or for worse. This forces you to finally face the music—the music being a dull-eyed, greasy journalist ready to sink his teeth into the public’s new favorite topic. 

Joshua is a good sport about it, or at least, he’s good at pretending to be one. 

“It was great,” is his answer to a question you didn’t hear. You’re busy going over the parts of the script that you remember. Your media team spent the better part of the morning repeating it back to you, which was helpful until it wasn’t. You weren’t sure how to tell them you’ve actually never been good at speaking to the press, since you had spent the better half of your life doing the exact opposite. 

“And what did the princess think? It’s not often we catch you for an interview, you know.” 

The eye of the camera seems to pierce through you. You can see your shellacked figure, long and distorted, in the reflection. 

“I—um,” you swallow hard. God. Pull it together. You can already hear the lecture you’re going to get on the way home today. “Yeah, big day today.”

“She’s had to really rein in her excitement, you know,” Joshua adds, chuckling. 

Briefly, you feel his hand brush against yours. Ordinarily, you’d pass it off as a fluke, but you feel the steady, insistent warmth of his palm again, first, to the inside of your wrist, then lower still. Before you’re able to really process what’s happening, he then takes your hand in his all at once, as if to say, I’ve got this. I’ve got you. 

You figure he’s cashing in his favor early–he’d much rather leave you out to dry, let you flounder a bit so you learn to read the PR memorandums the night before. I told you so, he’d say. That’s what everyone else would say, anyway. 

“The races are sure exciting, but I'm sure you’re even more excited about your upcoming wedding.” The reporter grins at you, as if he smells your fear. His hair looks like it’s glued to the top of his shiny head. “If I'm going to be honest, you were one of the last people we’d expect to tie the knot this year. We are all dying to hear more.” 

What? You force yourself to breathe, feel the air fill your lungs, to avoid making an expression you’ll regret. 

“Well, yeah, I'm sure it looks like it all happened quickly,” you answer, feeling your tongue trip over the words. Mostly because it did, in fact, happen quickly, but you can’t let them know that. “But Josh and I feel strongly about, uh, this whole thing, and—”

“Please, don’t spare us the details.” 

Telepathically, Joshua squeezes your hand. This, you understand. He’s telling you to lean on him, and you trust that. 

“Hold your horses,” he cuts in, almost too quickly, which makes the corners of your mouth twitch upward. He was definitely looking for an opening, but you, bizarrely, don’t mind at all. He turns to you and smiles. “What's the fun without a little mystery? It's been a wild ride, but I'm loving every second of it.” 

It’s this one, the lamest and most embarrassing dad joke of them all, that gets you. 

You laugh: a real one, big, loud, and unafraid. It's here, caught in the glare of the camera flash, where you find yourself hoping, even just a little, that this wasn’t just a favor, that this was a sign you could actually survive this arrangement. 

You’re not asking for love—just a little bit of like. and, right now, you think you like Joshua Hong. 

—

In the evening, you find yourself in the oaken parlor nestled away in the back halls of the Acrosian palace. 

There's a piano there, gathering dust. It's a Steinway, spindly and chestnut, almost identical to the one you have at the palace in Cotria. 

You and Jihoon had been unpacking your hodgepodge of things (unsorted, since the act of sorting would have forced you to stomach the fact that you were actually moving), when he had found your old lesson books. 

You should break in that piano, he had said. Either that, or wait for your fiance to find you. He seemed ok at the derby today. 

I guess. 

What Jihoon hadn’t seen was all the photographs you had to take after your interview with The Sun, where Joshua decided to remind you that you were supposed to hate him. By that, you mean that he managed to make every single one unbearable. (A tap of the foot: Stand up straight. A careful brush of the elbow: Let’s link arms. A discerning, tactful glance at your chest: Pull up your dress. That, or he was no better than the average man.) 

You and he hadn’t talked much after that. Hopefully, he’s fled to your cold, dark dungeon of a room to read, so he can finally leave you alone.

“Remember when your parents invited all their friends over and asked you to play?” Jihoon says, perched on the loveseat while he sorts through an old jewelry box. 

“Yeah, and I literally forgot everything?” you laugh. “Freaking Jeonghan had to check on me because I locked myself in my room for 24 hours straight. And then he had the nerve to laugh at me.” 

You thumb through the fattest book of the pile. The binding is soft; the pages now yellow and fuzzed over by time. 

On page 5, Chopin's Waltz in A-flat major. three four time or whatever, you had scrawled in defiant red ink. Page 37, a thick black line through Debussy's name on Arabesque No. 1. This is because you would always laugh at it during lessons, and you wanted to save yourself the trouble. 

“Do you want to keep this?” Jihoon holds up a choker that resembles a jock strap. “When did you even wear this? It looks like a cat toy.” 

You ignore him and start to play. You were never excellent—competent would be a better word. Still, it was enough for you. Soonyoung would ask you to play during drunk karaoke, and you could still keep up with Jeonghan when he played one of his overcomplicated duets. 

Your hands remember the velvet thud of the keys, the glide of the pedal. When you turn the page, there’s a scrawled in BITCH! next to a heavily circled allegro. Piano was one of the only things that your parents forced you to do that you actually liked. The kicker was that it didn’t even do you any good. You weren’t as talented as your parents would like you to be, meaning that, to them, you weren’t talented at all. 

It’s then that your fingers slip, and you miss a chord. In your defense, you have a fresh manicure. Always blame the nails. Your mom hated when you kept them long, even more than your hardass tutor.  

“The prince is helping with the theater production this year, right?” Jihoon holds a single earring up to the light. You think you lost the other one in Ibiza last year. “You gonna help out again?” 

“Maybe.” Another wrong note. You’re losing steam trying to read all the ledger lines and your smeared, illegible writing next to them. “I don't know. He probably won’t even want me to. I'm choosing a different piece, by the way. Bored of this one.” 

The truth about your 21st birthday was that you did actually intend to spend it at the youth theater. It was your idea before it was Jeonghan’s idea, but, at the time, you both still were a package deal.

You were on piano; Jeonghan was on whatever else he pleased. He'd always been indecisive like that. At the bench, you’d hoist the little ones on your knee and regale them with the classical version of the opening song from paw patrol. Jeonghan stole prop masks from the back, mostly to hide behind the curtains and scare people, you included. You’d both stay up late, paint spackled on your palms, trying to Michelangelo a backdrop with the combined artistic talent of a TI-84. 

The production became your thing, just you and him, no cameras, no press releases, no parents. But like everything else, neither you, Jeonghan, nor anyone else was able to keep those inevitable truths apart. The set pieces were repainted in Italy, the finger-painted fields turned luminescent with varnish; the pins and needles in the costumes swapped with mother-of-pearl; and, finally, you, replaced by a classically trained pianist from Juilliard. At least he was hot. 

Everyone knows the rest of the story—the red carpet, the empty seats, and the puffy pink balloons outside the mansion in Saint Tropez. 

“Oh please,” Jihoon wheedles. “You and I both know he wanted you there.” 

“Then maybe he should have fought harder.” You flip to a random page, this one marked up in pink gel pen. You remember it bled through all the pages behind it, making it a pain to read but awfully funny during lessons. “It doesn't matter. There’s probably wedding stuff i gotta deal with.” 

Jihoon lets you play this next piece uninterrupted. It’s not that it’s a sensitive subject for you—there were plenty of other things that filled the wedge between you and your brother—but it certainly didn’t help. 

You let your fingers wander over the stubborn keys. It feels good to play, even if you’re almost unforgivably rusty. You reach for the page, when you hear Jihoon again: “You know, you’re allowed to come in, your highness.” 

Immediately, your hands freeze. Like a scolded child, you become aware of how your fingers teeter over the keys, the stumbling, awkward clacking of your nails, the one or two missed quarter notes from the last measure. 

You turn to face the door, where Joshua stands, leaning against the frame like a sleazy model from an Abercrombie catalog. He probably came from the gym. Seeing him dressed down is still very weird, mostly because you can’t decide if it’s because he looks good or if it’s because it reminds of seeing your teacher at the grocery store. 

“Anyone teach you manners?” you ask, unsure if your hackles should be raised. 

“No, I was raised in a barn, just like those horses you like so much,” he laughs. “I didn’t want to interrupt. You’re not bad, you know.” 

“Thanks.” You eye him skeptically. “Thought you were gonna comment on the nails.” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Preferably not, but it’s not like you‘d listen to me anyway.” You look for Jihoon’s reaction, but he seems to have conveniently disappeared. “Let’s play a duet. I’m cashing in my favor.” 

“Sure,” Joshua replies. “I'm no good, though. Might be more of a punishment for you.” 

You slide over on the bench, and he sidles up next to you. He smells like Le Labo and sweat, the sting citrusy and bright, close enough to linger. 

“No good?” You pick up another fat book from the stack atop the lid: The Joy of Duets. “Me neither.” 

“You have no idea,” he chuckles. “And trust me, I tried.”  

“I’ll do top?” you announce. 

Joshua snickers, and you kick him under the bench (really, just a tap of your foot). 

You spend the next two minutes tripping over a Schubert piece. Terribly, this is endearing to you. You make somewhat of a couple—you, with your horrible form, and Joshua, now squinting at the key signature like it’ll make it easier to read.

“Buddy,” you exclaim. “Left hand goes here.” Laughing, you reposition his hand mid-chord to an octave below. You feel it tense beneath you before yielding to proper technique. 

“Aw, what?” he whines. “See, I told you I was no good. Give me a second.” 

You watch him puzzle over the next few lines, pretty brow furrowed. You conclude that Pajama Joshua is decidedly better than Prince Joshua. He’s funnier, kinder, warmer. Even his hands feel softer. 

“Also, about earlier today,” you start. The words are starting to dry up on your tongue, but you figure Pajama Joshua is an easier target than usual. “I didn't know they trained you in stand-up comedy.” 

“We laugh in this country too, you know.” When Joshua says this, he grins, bumping into your shoulder like you’d been friends for a long time. For once, it feels easy, natural. 

“Well, thanks anyway.” 

“I couldn't leave my fiancée out to dry.” The word must sound ridiculous even to him, because he laughs just the same as he did when he unloaded his ridiculous puns onto the unassuming world. “No really. We’re in this together, unfortunately. It’s my duty.” 

Duty, both the knife and the wound. You can’t say you’re surprised he’s only nice to you out of obligation. So is everyone else, and you don’t know why you thought it’d be any different, especially coming from him. It’s not like you’re wearing your ring now either; you suppose you’re just as guilty. 

“You cross over here,” you tell him, changing the topic. You slide your hand over his, and it bends to you. “Thumb under. Sorry, I couldn't help but notice.” 

“It's ok,” Joshua replies. “I only learned piano because I had to. When I stopped going to lessons, I forgot everything. Now I feel like I put this piano to shame.” 

“Really? Not to stroke your ego, but you strike me as the type to be good at everything.” 

“No,” he chuckles. “Only when I have to be. I actually wanted to learn how to play guitar.” 

“No way.” 

“Yes way. I wanted to have one of those woven guitar straps, get a little pick collection going, be able to play any song from the Beatles discography. All the cliche stuff.” 

“Well, why can’t you?” you ask. “Minus the Beatles thing. Pick better music.” 

“Back then, it never occurred to me. We all learn piano.” 

“That's silly,” you blurt out. “Who cares?” 

“That's a little rich coming from you.” 

You frown, feeling all the usual unpleasantries bubble up through your skin. 

“That's not really fair.” You absentmindedly play a few keys, all disjointed. “Taking guitar lessons doesn’t make you a problem child.” 

“It's not about that, though,” Joshua says. He's avoiding your eyes. “It's everything, together. I couldn't just pick up a guitar and be someone else.” 

“Someone else? You mean you? The real you?” 

“Yes,” Joshua presses. “That's the point. I can't just do whatever I want. Sometimes the real you is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

“Someone’s dramatic. If you do everything the same, nothing will change. Maybe getting into a little trouble isn’t such a bad thing.” 

“Forgive me,” he says, mid-chuckle. “You wouldn’t call this trouble?” 

He’s got you there. Childishly, all your pride hardens to a lump in your throat, one you’ve never learned to swallow. 

“Your family needed our help too, remember?” 

“Yeah, and you think I don’t think about that every day? How, maybe, if I had done something different, then we wouldn’t be here?” 

You feel stung. You don’t know how to tell him that you’ve been trying to figure out the same thing your whole life. If you were a better daughter, you’d have spared everyone the trouble. Unfortunately, you’d gotten it wrong so many times, you stopped trying.

What's worse is that he doesn’t even sound mad—you watch his fingertips ghost over the keys of a C-scale, rhythmically, methodically. Piano scales, this marriage, everything: just things to do on his never-ending list. 

A hesitant knock at the door interrupts any possibility of you coming up with anywhere close to the right thing to say. 

“Prince Joshua, the king and queen need to speak to you.” It’s an aide, probably sweating bullets deciding when and how they should intrude on this wonderful conversation of yours.

“Right,” says Joshua, and when he gets up from the bench, he doesn’t look back. 

—

“You ready to get stuffed?” 

Good fucking morning to you—Somi’s voice, fluorescent through your phone speakers, seems to be enough of an alarm clock for you. Joshua, in the doorway dual wielding a coffee cup and the morning paper, raises a tired eyebrow.

After the events of last night, you’d wondered if he would somehow disappear at nighttime in an effort to avoid his eventual fate (you). Instead, you found him on his usual side of the bed, drinking his usual mug of chamomile tea, in his usual silence. 

You've heard that couples shouldn’t go to bed angry, but no one said anything about indifferent. Then again, you and Joshua are hardly a couple. 

“Ew,” you laugh. “No. Maybe? Should I be scared?” 

“Absolutely. You’re eating your weight in food today because I need your opinion on catering.” 

Smushing your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, you watch the mirror as your wavering reflection puts on a layer of mascara. 

“For your party?” 

“Yeah, although on second thought, maybe it’s a bad idea to bring the girl who’s gonna puke everything up anyway.” 

“My IBS is none of your business. Besides, the real food critic is Jihoon,” you reply. “Sometimes I feel like that’s the only reason he still works here.” 

“You’re coming in an hour, right?” 

You check the clock. No, you are not. You’re only halfway through a full beat and if you don’t get any caffeine inside you within the hour, you will commit a crime. 

“Nope.” You pop open your compact. “I have to change, and I desperately need to locate a coffee. I will suck a fucking bean off if i need to.” 

“I'm hanging up on you,” Somi whines. “It's too early for you to be gross and late.”  

“As if you weren’t talking about getting stuffed.” 

“Whatever.” Click.

At this point, you feel like Somi’s party is both the proverbial and literal light at the end of the tunnel. No expectations, no rules, and no semi-arguments between you and your doomed fiance. 

Then you notice that Joshua’s disappeared from the room—he probably couldn’t stand listening to your end of the conversation. Briefly, you wonder where he is. Off running an errand for his dear parents, perhaps, or maybe at the gym you still haven’t discovered yet. Even from the hefty distance he keeps you at, you can still appreciate a man who looks like he’s touched a dumbbell. 

It's only when you’re halfway out the door, almost an hour later, juggling your purse and your phone and the distinct absence of a caffeinated beverage, that you find him. 

“Come to ruin my day?” you ask, maybe three-fourths joking. 

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he replies. Under the bluebird sky of late morning, lips upturned and eyes bright, Joshua may be a sight you could get used to. Someday. “Brought you a coffee. I can’t have you sucking off a bean—the reporters would go crazy.” 

Jihoon, hovering by the car, chokes on his water. 

“Oh!” The surprise knocks the sound out of you. “Thank you. Really.” 

“Gladly,” he says, and he sounds like he means it.

He holds all your stuff as you clamber into the car, before handing it back to close the door for you. You’ll admit it’s nice, but as Jihoon starts to drive, you feel a familiar twist in your chest.

“Interesting,” he remarks. “Didn’t know you were on a coffee order basis.” 

“We’re not,” you answer. You pop the lid open. It's a cappuccino, made the classic way, milk foam bubbling out the top. Not your favorite, but it’ll do. 

More than that, it’s an olive branch. Yesterday did get weird, but you’re getting the impression that it’ll always get weird. Undoubtedly, there is someone out there who’ll get Joshua. His schedules, his straight-backed obligation, the polished photo ops and the cappuccinos made to a perfect one to one to one ratio. You know this because this is the world you came from, one that should be home to you. 

Instead, you circle each other in an unsure, clumsy dance. You can’t quite get it right. It's all the same now. The bite of a horse saddle not made for your body, the glow of your heirloom ring, now cheapened by your graceless hand, Joshua’s lonely, reaching palm as he disappears in the rearview mirror. 

—

On your arrival home in the evening, you return with two things: a few extra kilos and an absolutely horrendous copy of the Daily Mail, courtesy of Somi, who saw it at the grocery. 

"Great showing from the couple of the year," you say, shucking your copy at Joshua. "It looks like we're in Shark Tale." 

Even from a distance, the cheap ink-spackled cover shows more than enough. LIP LOCK FLOP!, it reads, although you wouldn’t really call it a lip lock. 

It was at the derby—Quick, they’re looking at us, you had said. Then what you would call a nun’s version of a kiss: you, already halfway out the door, and him, lips hesitant and pursed, as if he was asked to smooch his withering, dusty great-grandmother. 

"I'm not even going to ask what you mean by that," Joshua answers, voice level. "It's not that bad." 

He puts his book down to pick the magazine up, holding it at a distance like the image will jump out of the page and bite him. You see his expression flicker, and that's all you need to confirm your suspicions. 

"Ok, it's a little bad." He places it on the nightstand next to him face-down. "It'll be alright. It's not like the wedding will be called off over one bad picture." 

"You know that's not the issue." You sit on your side of the bed, about a full meter away from him. You kind of want to look again just to see how bad it is, but you're sure it'll be inescapable by the morning. 

"Since when did you care what the press thought of you?" 

"Since it mattered." You stare at your lap, eyes fixed on the too-new, wiggly hem of your pajamas instead of him. You can tell he's still looking at you, though–you think those big, watery eyes have some sort of flashlights in them, and you don't like it. "It seems wrong if our mistakes take up space." 

You hear him make a small noise of agreement. Joshua still won't admit that you're right, but you suppose you like that a little. At least he'll be stubborn about something, even if it's about clearly not liking you. 

"What do you suggest?" he asks, putting his book down. “We didn't choose each other, so I'm not surprised there's no attraction." 

"Ouch." He's right, but you'd rather be the one saying it. "I'm a good kisser. You aren't." 

"I'm just not good at kissing you," he retorts. 

"Evidently." You shimmy towards his side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler under your thighs, the pillows still neatly arranged on the headboard. "What I'm saying is that we should at least try to look more realistic. Like–" 

"Are you saying we should practice?" Joshua looks at you over the frames of his glasses, incredulous. 

"Yeah," you say, now too far in it to back out. "Like exposure therapy. For unwilling couples." 

The room gets quiet, as if it wasn't unbearably so before. You watch Joshua pick up his book again. He puts the bookmark in, two-thirds from the spine of the book so as to not ruin the binding, and places it over the doomed tabloid. 

"Okay." To your surprise, he turns to face you. The lamplight catches the lens of his glasses and makes his eyes look warmer than they truly are. "How should we do this?" 

The way Joshua's gaze settles on you makes you feel like you're being evaluated. An exam in Kissing 101, except the test would rather not have anything to do with you at all. For the first time in your life, you let your eyes wander to his lips, rosy and full, and you feel the pit of anxiety in your belly grow wider. Somehow he's managed to take all the fun out of one of your favorite activities, but you'll be damned if he walks away from this thinking it's you who's the problem. 

"Just...let me lead," you say quietly, now leaning closer to him. You have to ease yourself into it. You let your body respond, feel the skip of your heart, a heady flush wash over your cheeks. He smells like spearmint and clover. 

You've kissed a lot of people. None of this should feel new to you. His eyelashes skim against your cheek, and you can hear the breath he takes, quivering, gentle.

Despite all this, the first kiss is no better than any of the other ones. his lips meet yours, hesitant before they start moving. He's shy, and it would almost endear him to you if he wasn't so annoying. But then the charade is over. His nose clocks yours and it startles you both enough to draw away, ever so slightly. 

"Not my fault," you murmur. You're so close, you can see your reflection in his pupils, glassy and dark. 

"Thought this was practice," responds Joshua, unfazed. 

So you lean in again, giving it another go. Two is better—sweet and succinct. a first date type of kiss. You can taste the berry of your lip balm on him. 

Then again, except this time it's him who goes in, chases your lips. 

The scary thing is that you thought this would be much harder. You had stood in the bathroom, looked yourself in the mirror, and psyched yourself up to do the impossible. 

But the moment you meet him, now so close there's no room to breathe, you feel an impenetrable, unshakable desire crawling up your bones. Your palm finds the flat of his chest. Even under the silk of his ridiculous pajama top, you feel the heat of his skin, the restless quick of his heartbeat, and your stomach flips. 

Four, five. You're losing count. Joshua's hand trails up your arm to cup your cheek, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your breath catch in your chest. 

He's warm, so warm. When your other hand finds the back of his neck, he makes a small sound in his throat and you like it.

It's at this point you realize there is no point in pretending. Maybe you don't want to kiss Joshua at any other moment during any other day, but you do now. You really do. 

When your tongue meets the seam of his lips, it feels all too natural. At first, predictably, he buffers a bit. For a split second, you envision him pulling away and saying you've gotten more than a lifetime's worth of practice in. 

But he doesn't. Instead, an arm winds around your waist and that's all it takes for your body to stop listening to you altogether. Lips still connected, you lift yourself to straddle his lap, right over the folded up covers, and his hands, devastatingly strong, find your hips to keep you rooted there. 

You're starting to think he isn't such a bad kisser after all—maybe he really was holding out on you, but there's something weirdly rewarding about him waiting until he liked you just a little more. Whatever that means. 

You learn that his hair is soft, really soft, at the base of his neck. You learn that he likes when you bite his lips and you learn that his spearmint mouthwash does, in fact, taste as good as it smells. 

You also learn that you, paradoxically, might not know how to love Joshua Hong, but you sure do know how to kiss him. 

--end of part 1--

[part 2 -> ]

[hyunverse]

HIII my lovely rin !!! i missed u !!

OO fun question ^_^ okay bts has been my ult since 2016 when i got into kpop then it stayed like that until i discovered skz through gods menu and they’re like right at the top w bts now. and then ateez and nct127 :)) i think i remember you saying you’re trying to get into other groups right ?? i also love enhypen and p1h they’re super cute groups

LOLLLL YOURE SO RIGHT i’m so sorry for my inconsistency 😭😭 i genuinely love all of them sm that i think minho just became my bias bc we’re so similar and it’s easy LOL. bc i love them all so equally that it pains me to ever say i love minho more bc I JUST DONT ITS ALL EQUAL. i would purposely play fight minho just to make him mad bc i think he’d look cute mad 😇i say that now but i’d probably start sobbing if that actually happened LMAO. and i would do ANYTHING for one chill day w chan omfg. imagine doing that and being w him all night after a long day ,,,, sigh. def sounds like a dream. he’s so cuddly too ugh i just

pls do bc i love learning about it :)) and yes i am very lucky to have them ^_^ idk what id do without them they’re like my only form of emotional support rn </3 and her mom makes some wickedddd good food so i couldn’t resist anyways hehe

taking in all of that happiness rn and giving some back bc i’m so happy for you 🙏🏼 that is the BEST feeling ever (also fun fact my uncle is in malaysia rn ^_^ he’s visiting for a few days before going to malta !! i just thought i’d tell you bc it’s cool hehe)

- 🐈‍⬛ kisses mwahhhh mwah mwah

HEHE HI!! SHE’S BACK!!

high five!!! found skz thru god’s menu too. hyune used to be hot-guy-with-long-hair for me but now i be babying him daily </3 aaa p1h seems so fun im ngl ^__^ ure right i have been!! been watching txt heheheh

don’t be sorry, i love the chaos 😋🙏 if it wasn’t for you i wouldn’t have so many skz hcs omg. someday i need to write down my brainrot sessions with U frfr.

minho would look so cute mad. he can glare at me all he wants but imma be thinking mmm babygirl in my head the whole time LMAOOO. him in the new skz code bro... looking too beautiful. need him 2 be my shawty ‼️just thinking of clinging onto minho and annoying him just so he’ll glare at me ^__^ he’d look so sexy ^__^ chan is sooo cuddly. and changbin. cuddling binnie would be so self satisfying i mean look at his shoulders!!!! shoulders for daaayyys!!

aaa that’s nice!! do you know which part of malaysia he’s visiting?

kisses back!! kith kith kith!!

[sweetgirlbambi]

can u write something about jack harlow?

maybe him dating another artist and they just flirt under each-others posts?

tried my best hope u like it<3

also sorry abt the first pic being blurry, i couldn’t fix it.

y/i/n

liked by urbanwyatt and 2,562,939 others

y/i/n dior forever @bellahadid

veiw all 26,893 comments

y/nfan7 when’s the new album out

y/n6 please drop the album i miss ur voice

bellahadid i miss this shoot so much and u of course 😘

y/i/n you better miss me bitch 🙄❤️‍🔥

y/nbella242 the fact that this has already been labeled the best campaign of the decade😫

y/nfan50 please this is so hot

randomfan6 wait why is y/n modeling with bella hadid? i thought she was a singer

y/nfan0 she is a singer but her and bella got asked to do a shoot with dior together, and if u didn’t know they’ve been friends for ages

y/nfan89 she’s so pretty i wish she modelled more

*liked by jack harlow

jackmanfan6789 please tell me i’m not the only one who saw jack like that

jackharlow you look so pretty baby;)

y/i/n thanks daddy😽

jackharlowfan56 yo wtf was that abt

y/nfan24 the fact they prob just playin w us

y/nfan7 DADDY-😭HELP

jackharlow

liked by dominicfike and 1,835,008 others

jackharlow i write these songs so my kids can listen to them one day and know who their father was

view all 10,745 comments

jackfan6 all 8 daughters

jackmanfan67 don’t worry our kids will know their father ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

jackharlowfan4 this picture does something to me

y/i/n can’t wait for our babies to meet their daddy

jackharlow can’t wait for our babies to meet their mamma

jackfan789 y’all seeing this shit

jackfan3 y/n better back off

y/n&jack6 y’all need to chill y/n has a wayyyy higher chance with him then all you kids

y/n6 tell y/n to drop the album already

jack&y/n20 i honestly hope y/n and jack get together their both so hot

claybornharlow great going jack you made all ur fans mad

y/nfan93 this is so hot

jackman67890 oh no not y/n’s fan commenting jacks hot

jackfan926 first y/n now her fans🙄

jackfan67 y’all leave the poor girl alone

jackharlow added to their instagram story!

y/i/n added to their instagram story!

jackharlowupdates

liked by y/nfan78 and 5,078 others

jackharlowupdates @jackharlow and @y/i/n both uploaded to their instagram story’s a picture of someone blurred out. could it be jack and y/n?

jackfan6 better not be or istg

y/nfan89 y/n is actually smart to blur out the persons hair unlike jack who just covers their ass 😭

jackfan89 it’s so obvious it’s them like they not even tryna hide it

jack&y/i/n6 i mean that is y/n’s hair so i guess all we can do at this point is pray

jackman6789 y’all looking into this to much

y/n0 ikr it’s obvs them

jackharlowfan678 ik it’s them i’m just trying to convince myself it’s not 😓

jackfan6 if it is them im happy for jack

jackharlowfan79 yo didn’t jack say he was going to focus on his music instead of a relationship?

y/nfan04 i mean y/n looking fine as hell

y/nfan6 if i was jack i would post that too, y/n’s fine as fuck

y/nfan8 jacks a respectful guy so i don’t blame her

jackfan7890 and he’s hot af

[zv5x]

Ur so fast w requests I LUV U—!!!! And ur writing makes me twirl my hair nd giggle nd shit its SOOO PERF. Eddie with a reader whos rlly scared that hes another freak but warms up 2 him once they see he isnt out to hurt them? Male reader pl0xLOL<3

Yan!Riddler • Nervous!Male!Reader (Headcanon Format)

I love you too, Anon! I wrote these in HC format! Hope that's alright! Gosh I love rambling ^^ (Eddie's underwater adventures as header) tw // use of the yandere trope , toxic relationships , manipulation , delusional and harmful mindsets , violence , violation of privacy

❓ Edward was already aware of your fear. He didn't understand it, but he couldn't blame you for having it in the first place. After all, just look at where you're living! Such a terrible place, he shouldn't be mad at a man as amazing as you for simply being weary of new people. He just has to spend time around you, so you get used to his presence. That's all, that's how easy the solution is

❔ Still, his heart couldn't help hurting at the fact you might have been scared of him as well as the general population. He knew he was different, but he just had to wait until you saw that too. Edward was very adamant in getting to know you, but tried his very hardest to not give you too much information on his love for you. Yet. He didn't want to scare you off. Just like how wouldn't rush to pet a stray cat before letting it sniff your hand first

❓ Soon enough, though, you begin to warm up to him, much to his delight. He's so happy! He can finally spend more time with you without scaring you, it's practically a dream come true. You told him that you trusted him, and that he was nothing like the other creeps out there in the city streets. He knew that was why you were originally reclusive, and nodded in complete agreement to everything you were saying. The people out there were horrible, evil, and you had to put yourself first. He understands, especially because you finally came around.

❔ Now he's able to protect you, to really hold you in his arms and be able to keep you safe. He'll promise you just that, as long as he's around nobody will harm you. And he means that. Anyone regarded as stepping out of line are immediately paid a kind visit from the Riddler, and Edward will show absolutely no mercy to those who he believes to have harmed his beloved

❓ Speaking of you telling Edward you don't think of him as a creep, you might be slightly off. Not that Edward thinks of himself as creepy, not in the slightest! The opposite, really. But, he can't get the thought out of his head of you being upset at him if you found out what he does when you're asleep at night all alone in your house. It's so easy to get in, you know? Take a few (hundred) photos of you sleeping for his collection, take a few peices of your clothes, and just gently stroke your hair and face whenever he can tell you're too fast asleep to wake up from it

❔However, any doubts about his actions are quickly disregarded with a shake of the head. He doesn't mind what he's doing, and you shouldn't mind either. He's nothing like the bastards that crawl around the city. He's nothing like them at all! Edward is protecting you, keeping you safe. It's only fair he's allowed to worship you like you rightfully deserve, right?

[workofheart]

eren jaeger relationship hcs

eren’s turn! modern relationship hcs. nsfw under the cut as per usual <3 levi ver.

really clingy. when ur away on a trip or something, he definitely cuddles your pillow and buries his head in it. might also spray your perfume on his hoodie so he can be reminded of you throughout the day (as if you aren’t already on his mind 24/7)

on that note, LOVES seeing you in his clothing. i feel like for most guys this is true and people mention it all the time, but eren especially. it makes him feel mushy and horny at the same time (more on that later) bc it just drapes over your shoulders perfectly. like he sees you and has to suck in a breath and look away to collect himself or else he’ll just become a puddle on the floor

likes hearing verbal affirmations. when you compliment him, tell him you’re proud of him, he gets all warm and fuzzy inside. it means so much coming from you and he knows you're genuine

really goofy, this is to be expected - tries to get you to laugh bc it raises his self esteem and confidence. he just likes looking at you being happy and smiling, it makes him feel so warm inside

definitely hides behind corners when he hears you walking or coming down the stairs so he can jump out and scare you. don’t worry though, because he always proceeds to hug you and kiss your forehead or temple to say he’s sorry but only kind of bc ur reaction was priceless. the little whack u give his arm in annoyance? he lovessss it bc it’s like he knows u still love him even when he is a little obnoxious

eren is definitely one of those enemies to lovers kind of guy bc he desperately wants someone to love him not necessarily in spite of his flaws, but with his flaws. he needs u to acknowledge that he’s far from a perfect person but still love him regardless

his favorite kind of dates are park dates. he likes going on warm & sunny days to throw a frisbee around with you in the open fields. i feel like he’s a basketball guy so he’ll bring you onto the court and play knockout... when he loses, will tell you he let you win on purpose for the sake of his ego 

lolll imagine him critiquing your free throw form or something and coming up behind you to fix it (it wasn’t actually that bad, he just wanted an excuse to be near you)

really needs physical touch. he’s the kind of guy who will always be in contact w you in some way or another. when driving, his hand will be on your thigh or holding yours on top of the center console, same for if you’re out at restaurants but under the table. he’d definitely try and play footsies with you if you’re sitting across from him rather than beside him. when sleeping, he holds you really tight and won’t let you roll over so you better just get comfortable. 

doesn’t mind being ur photographer and taking pics for you. he takes some time to learn the methods for the best pics but he eventually gets it

this is kind of random but when playing minecraft, he always blows up creepers and never fills in the creeper holes :| sorry. to make up for it he’ll get you music discs. also likes just going on little adventures to find a sand biome two thousand blocks away and just walking with you in game

on this topic actually i LOVE the idea of gamer bf eren. like not the league-and-monster-drinking kind but sumn about him in a headset and sitting at the edge of his bed... but he’ll definitely teach you how to play shooter games and will be so nice about it, won’t get mad at you, will give you little kisses when you’re not doing well and getting frustrated, and if you’re playing in online lobbies together he’ll stick by you the whole time and carry you

always sending you tiktoks & tries to get you to do all the trends with him. they never go viral but he goes back and watches them when he misses you

i peg him as a cat guy! really good with animals in general. i think most people would expect him to be a dog person since he can be loud and rowdy and excited, but on an emotional level i think he also just likes to be calm and relaxed and would get along with cats well. also teases you when animals reject you for him.

definitely writes about you in his journal. he jots down funny things you say or do or moments you shared so he never forgets any of them, and when he misses you he’ll read through them :( imagine when you’re so much older and he has documented proof of his love for you back when he was young please it makes me cry

also writes down little poetic words or things that remind him of you. he’ll hear a quote in a movie or a book or a song that instantly makes you pop into his head and he just has to write it down. he’s probably tried writing poems or songs about you, but he keeps those really secret because he’s embarrassed

this is kind of random but i think he’s a total beach person! likes going to spend days in the sun, builds sand castles and asks for your rating, drags you into the water to swim with him, will dive under and grab your ankles to freak you out, also looks really good in swim trunks but that's besides the point

he hates to see you upset and tries to cuddle the sadness out of you. when needs be, he’s a really good listener and doesn’t mind letting you just vent. when you cry, he pulls you in for a really tight hug and cradles your head - also because if he sees you crying, he’ll start to cry too because he genuinely feels for you 

tries his best to take care of you when you’re sick. not really a good cook or anything, but he’ll make you a grilled cheese or a pop tart, albeit a little crispy even though it’s his third attempt. doesn’t mind being near you and isn’t afraid of getting sick so he’ll cuddle you anyway

loses focus when you’re talking to him sometimes but it’s not because he’s not listening, it’s because he just gets caught up in staring at you and how you look when you talk bc he just adores you. when you snap him out of his, he always gets all red and blushy :(

nsfw under the cut (18+)

really likes sending & receiving nudes/lewds. he always goes for the torso selfie to show off his chest/abs when sending, and it doesn’t matter to him what you send back because he’ll like anything you have to offer

and his responses aren’t lame either. NOT the type to send you a thumbs up or a “ayo you sexy as hell fr doe” - he will hype you up with dirty talk because he seriously means it. honestly might just send you a voice message, or call you if you’re alone and available bc while he might look at pics of you from time to time for aesthetics, the majority of the time he’s jacking off

so you know how i said he likes seeing you in his clothing? he especially likes nudes of you in his clothes. send him a pic wearing his zip up hoodie & nothing else and he’s yours 

he prefers being in control/being on top but doesn’t mind if you want to take the reigns every once in a while

throws his head back and groans when u give him head. that's the image.

one of his favorite positions is when you’re in doggy but he pulls you up by the arms so your back is against his chest. he’ll snake a hand around to rub tight little circles on your clit, might put his hand around your throat if you like it. heavenly.

reallyyyy dirty mouth omg. asks sooo many teasing questions, likes hearing you say his name. “you like that, princess?” “louder for me” “who’s making you feel this good?” ugh and it’s not awkward either he makes it sound so good

has a lot of energy and a lot of stamina. stroke game will make you pass out, he’s so smooth and sets such a rhythm with his hips

things that get him going: kissing under his jaw, especially up by his ear. sucking his fingers. tugging on his hair. running your nails down his back.

pins your thighs to the bed when he eats you out. likes to make you squirm and loooves to edge you. super teasing in every way

can we just talk about his voice for a sec... he has the prettiest moans and isn’t afraid to let you know how he’s feeling. when you’re in missionary, he’ll hold himself up with one elbow, hold your hand with the other, and will lean down to moan right in your ear. sometimes does it on purpose bc he knows it turns you on from how you clench around him

usually has a death grip on that sensitive spot between your hips and your waist so he has something to hold on to while he pounds you

when he cums, he 100% buries his face in the crook of your neck, might even bite down from time to time 

can totally see him going harder if he knows there’s people around, he doesn’t care who it is that’s outside the door but they’re gonna hear how good he’s making you feel whether you like it or not

wants to see your face when you cum. will definitely tell you to cum for him and keep your eyes open when he’s really feeling it - your expression makes him nut so fucking hard lawwddd

daps u up after sex just cause he’s weird like that lol

[astaroth1357]

request: an MC thats very good w playing games or like,,, is proficiently skilled in all game categories or smrhn

alsp hi xander i love ur writing

and can i giv u a kith? if so: mwah 😚

Well I hate to tell ya, sweetie, but I’m not Xander. I’m Jazzy. Hello! I can see why you’d want something written by Xander, though. He’s mad talented (better at this than I am quite frankly) and he’s on the list of people I wish I could write as well as. I guess we can both take a moment to be sad that I’m not Xander… *sigh*... to be Xander… 😔

Oh well, I am who I am and I don’t begrudge that fact. Meanwhile, I’ve wanted to do more shout-outs so everybody go read @sevendeadlymorons! If you’re not… I mean… why not? He’s more than worth your time. In the meantime, I hope I can entertain you despite my not-Xanderness.

Brothers React to an MC Who’s Good at Games and Stuff 

Lucifer

Honestly couldn’t care less about the MC’s game proficiency in most cases. So they’re good at games? Good for them, he’s sure they’re happy.

But when they’re playing against him on the other hand…

Well, Lucifer may or may not be skilled at whatever game you set him on (he’s a very quick learner so never underestimate him), but he’s whole new levels of competitive when he wants to be. ESPECIALLY if he already thinks he’s hot shit at something.

Video games? Not his forte. Table top games? One word for you: Chess.

Lucifer believes that he can and will whip pretty much anyone’s ass in chess. That includes Satan, Solomon, Levi, and even Diavolo. He is at grandmaster level.

So imagine his shock, no, his disdain to have lost a game of chess to the MC… The moment they said "Checkmate" he stared at the board in front of them for a solid five minutes trying to work out where he went wrong…

And he wasn’t having that.

He and the MC now have regular chess matches in which he wins some and loses some so the tally stays pretty evenly tied. Really it’s all good fun... (but if they think he’s going to let them go home when he’s on a losing count, they’re Dead. Wrong. He’ll drag them back to down just to play chess with him until the score is right again. He DOES NOT lose, you hear? 🤨).

Mammon

Guess who’s found his gambling buddy?? 

No, really. He and the MC can make a KILLING at a Poker or Blackjack table! He’s never seen anyone better at poker than they are!! They have nerves of steel and give nothing away, so he’s lost more than a few hands to them before...

Even past the casinos, they’re perfect for making bets on! He once arranged a Devil Cart competition between the MC and Levi and took bets around RAD for who’d win...

Naturally, everybody assumed the Devildom’s resident Super-Otaku would win hands down, but the MC had this insane last minute save with a blue shell and pulled ahead in the last lap!!

He was like, the only person that bet on the MC and he got soooo much money that MC found HIM crying and hugging a bag of Grimm after the match…

Any time they win a game that gets him money, he’ll treat them like royalty for the next week. Man knows not to bite the hand that feeds him!... and creditors at bay... 😬

It may get slightly annoying that Mammon won't stop telling them about gaming competitions where they can get him more prize money, but hey, at least he's supportive, I guess.

Leviathan

Oh they are either his best friend or mortal enemy… Sometimes both in the same day.

Our boy hates losing, can't stand it any better than Lucifer, you KNOW the second he knows there's someone out there who even has a chance of beating him, he gets serious. This is not a "friendly rivalry," MC.

When they’re playing any game against each other, he'll call them by their gamertag/online persona to keep himself focused (yes, even if they’re playing Monopoly). They can't be his MC right now, they gotta be the person he's going to beat...

He's NOT opposed to dirty tactics to win, either. Saying things that will get them mad or flustered mid-match? Check. Using his tail to distract or tease them? Check. Just being a general nuisance/annoyance in game for the hell of it? Guilty as charged!

He's both a sore winner AND a sore loser, so unfortunately MC, you really can't win here... He'll be obnoxious regardless of the outcome.

However… when they’re on the same team, it's really something special. They don't just destroy the competition, they bulldoze over them like an armored tank barreling through rush hour traffic!

These two are legends in the online gaming community and have even started a streaming channel on the side. Sometimes your worst enemies also make the best allies... Who knew? 🤷‍♀️

Satan

Is surprisingly impressed by their gaming prowess. Are they just supremely skilled or incredibly lucky, you think…?

That being said, he's not the biggest gaming man on the planet so he's not too competitive with them one way or the other.

When Satan plays a video game, he usually goes for story-based, single-person experiences anyway so it's not like he could compete with them even if he wanted to.

That being said, they do share an informal challenge of sorts when it comes to puzzle/detective games (a not so guilty pleasure of his). He likes to try and beat the levels first, so when they start playing a new one they'll both compare time spent and scores.

He even enjoys playing those Devildom-style AR murder mystery games with them! It’s pretty cute to watch Satan get into it, he dips into his inner Levi and cosplays as some of his favorite TV drama detectives for the occasion and insists they dress as his co-star (best just go along with him. It’s not a bad time, even if they have to carry around an old tobacco pipe for a few hours).

Asmodeus

Good at games? That sounds dangerously like they're another Levi… 🙄 What about party games? Oh oh, or drinking games??

Actually scratch that. How about ANY game while drunk? That sounds pretty fun doesn’t it??

Like Drunk Truth or Dare!! Oh that's a favorite of his… 🤭

To be fair to the MC, the booze does diminish their skills somewhat (because that's kind of what it does in general) but not by all that much… It's pretty impressive.

He once challenged them to a game of Drunk Twister figuring that they'd be too unsteady to actually win for once, but no. If anything, the alcohol must have numbed the stretching pains because they bent over him like a pretzel!

Not that he was complaining or anything… 😏

He likes to take the MC to parties where he knows a game or two will be played just to show off to the crowd and brag that they’re HIS lovely, talented human! You go, MC, beat that competition to a pulp! 😌

Beelzebub

Sports count as games too, right? Well, they aren't half bad at those either.

Beel found it surprising that he found a human who could actually keep up with him. His brothers rarely want to play practice games with him anyway so it’s pretty exciting to have a sports partner at home!

He likes to ask the MC to help him train with practice matches or to go over certain moves or maneuvers he’s having trouble with. It’s not uncommon for the brothers to come home and find the two of them tossing a ball around in the front yard or something.

And the both of them on the same team? Forget it. It takes the dream team of Lucifer and Mammon (who aren’t just arguing with each other for once) to even come close to a challenge for them.

He also enjoys playing the occasional video game with them, though he treats it a lot like playing with Levi and just assumes he’ll never win unless he gets lucky - which does happen from time to time.

He doesn’t mind losing that much as long as he’s having fun, and if nothing else he can always win against them in an eating contest… He’s got those on lockdown. Come at’em MC, he’ll pack away an entire fridge before you’re done with your first plate. Try him.

Belphegor

So Belphie enjoys a good game or two - video-based or otherwise - it comes with the lazy-bastard territory. He may not be as skilled as Levi, but he can hold his own in some genres.

But he’s given up on beating the MC looong ago.

Do you know how much practice it would take? How many hours that he would have to use?? The hours where he could be napping instead???  Yeah, no thanks. They can continue to be the reigning Super Smash Devils champion for all he cares.

Buuuut even he has to admit, it’s pretty relaxing to watch the MC play something in the background... There’s a certain sort of satisfaction to watching someone who’s good at a game just play it straight through.

If they’re set up in Levi’s room or the Common area then Belphie may come over, set his pillow up on the floor, and watch them play. He may even throw in a comment or two like, “You missed a health pack,” or “Better save now,” but other than that he likes to just let them do their thing.

The MC has had many an all-nighter with Belphie spectating until about 4am or so. Then he’s dead to the world and they have to work out how to get his not-exactly-light demon ass onto a couch…

Or they can just leave him faceplanted and snoring on the floor. Up to them, really cause he did it to himself. 🤷‍♀️

[sorikkung]

for the wip game, 'im god i do what i want' sounds so intriguing i need to know more 🤣

oh my god LOL you picked the what goes on in neverland masterdoc which i included as a wip even tho the first few chaps r posted and i haven't started chapter 4 yet cause it's still technically a wip. it's just the most chaotic bulletpoints you've ever seen bc i just write ideas how they come to me, which includes meme format. here are some highlights

i opened an empty doc at 2am one day deciding i wanted to try writing again so i could write something so incredibly self indulgent and be the change i wanted to see in the world. this is what i first wrote

he/they fuckboy!reader whos not in a frat he’s in an alt punk band and yes he has trauma but thats not the reason hes a fuckboy he just likes to fuck and being sexy

pierced, tatted, (he fucked around and bought a tattoo gun, he and kevin like tatting ppl) six pack abs, this mf gonna be more of a wet dream than the actual idols in question

sorry chanlix

his friends consist of like his 5 or so bandmates and thats it. they the type of homies who make out w each other just cause

and then here you have me realising in real time that i can write literally whatever the fuck i want with no justification needed

i wont make it an enemies to lovers au just quite, but they just like being Competitive

wait. why Cant i make it an enemies to lovers au

i know i have too many but im god i do what i want

ok so theyre competing in some battle of the bands type shit

chris and his boys r usually a good sport but they just have a problem w the mc’s punk band bc they dont even want the prize of being signed to a record label? they wanna stay underground but theyre hellbent on winning anyway just for the glory? like ayo fuck off we need this?

but they see mc perform and OOOO THEY WANNA FUCK HIM SO BADDDD

because what is enemies to lovers for if not the SEXUAL TENSIONNNN

plus mc despite not particularly liking skz is like okkkk but they’re hot so? i wanna fuck em anyway? he just lives for the face they make when theyre mad like the hot tongue in cheek thing? mc just sees that and goes ok imma be a shit for the rest of my goddamn life just so i can keep seeing that sexy ass face of urs amen

meanwhile skz r like god what a cocky asshole but also that was hot. we all unanimously agree that was hot? cool not just me. what the fuck do we do about that.

mc and chris have an unspoken competition on who can wear less and less clothes onstage without being disqualified from the rounds

then i have these very brief character blurbs and here's a highlight from felix's

still has lingering feelings for eric which is probably why he doesnt acknowledge his PHAT crush on chris. open your fucking eyes gay boy

and honestly minbin's entire blurbs are highlights within themselves

changbin: dating minho bc minbin is such an underrated pair. works at his local gym bc he was there so often they just offered him the job. actually liked trr’s music before the competition but doesnt admit it until the collab round bc oh no we’re meant to be Enemies yeah i hate those copiers boo >:(( *whispers* (minho theyre so sexy i dont know what to do w myself)

minho: u cant fuck them

changbin: oh ofc i wasnt gon-

minho: without me

changbin: 😳😳😳

minho: does not give a Singular Fuck about the competition, hes just here for a good time and enjoys fighting w trr almost as much as mc does. hes a scorpio ok he just likes being petty and having an excuse to ruin someones life for funsies bc come on. its So fun. like he does want to get signed under a record label but its not life or death bc hes happy w where they are since theyre already popular enough n he gets enough money from his cat video youtube. im transing ur gender gayboy

and ill wrap out with some assorted lines completely out of context:

[hyunjin] has an onlyfans bc he knows hes the prettyboy twink of everyones mfuckin DREAMS and decided he deserves to be paid for it.

mc, instantly: hey wooyoung, eric, can we plagiarize this

(later in the chapter outline it was repeated as "mc: i vote plagiarism")

basically mc goes “arent you tired of being nice? dont you just want to go a p e s h i t” n skz took that PERSONALLY

“sup bitches bros and nonbinary hoes,"

(we cant dance? that’s not what your ROCK HARD COCK said at the prism during your lap dance!)

and lastly these two that copy paste weirdly so have screenshots instead (first screenshot has spoilers for chapter 3 in case you plan on reading it and haven't yet)

anyway i got way too carried away here but i think im hilarious and you enabled me so now you suffer the consequences enjoy <3

[finallydelight]

helloo! im new to ur blog and idk if u already have the person who ming is going to end up with but my gosh poor mark if its not him 😂 Hes been having the biggest crush on her for years and shes met most of his members and taeyeon, like yes she also knows txt but thats only bc theyre in the same company not bc shes someone jun is really into yk ? (they meet her as svts ming not yeonjuns interest??? idk if thqt makes sense) Like my heart really goes out to mark if its not him But it also goes out to jun cause you can tell how hard he’s trying to get her 😭 plus he has to see her all the time while at work so if she rejects him it going to be mad awkward

also i remember their being a tweet saying that a relationship only works if the guy like the girl more and honestly i think both jun and mark are in the same page there😂😂 mark kinda just seems in love and jun just likes her for now hahah

they should get dating advice from maya and jk now they are truly going strong 🥳 (and i agree with maya i wouldnt get on a motorcycle w him either he likes too many risks and ‘adventure’ for me id probs start crying once he makes a u turn)

love ur writing !!! cant wait for what u have in store 🫶

yes, the person she’s ending up with is already decided, my lovely! 💖 Welcome to my blog, I’m Jenny and I hope you have a great time here! ☺️

aaaah, markming nation has a new member 😂 yes, if ming would reject yeonjun those two would still have to see each other on a regular basis 🥲 but we’ll see how that turns out… 😉 mark is so precious omg, my poor baby is in love 🥹

PLSS those two LIKE LIKE her, ming def wouldn’t have to worry about the feelings department with them 😂

OMG jk would be another jaehyun and snitch to mingyu, while maya would tell ming to drop all the men and just date chaeyoung or something, yk helping her little sister out 😘 (no but seriously, what’s this man thinking maya is gonna get on a motorcycle with that menace)

thank you so much, my dear! I’m so happy you found your way here and I hope you stay for a while ❤️‍🩹

[kirislut]

Hiiii, it is me 😎✌️ I had this request in my mind for a while, and when I found ur page I was like, I feel like you’d write it perfectly!!!! The request: Bakugou or Todoroki having a very tough day, then when their S/O tries to bring them like soup or smth, they throw it on the floor, and the glass cuts the S/Os hands and they try to hide it while picking up everything, and when the boy sees their hand w a bandage later on in the day, they feel SO GUILTY!! Also, w fluff at the end pls! Thank u!

a/n: heyyy 😎✌️, first, thanks for this request! second, i don’t know if i can write it perfectly but i hope you like it absksj. definitely don’t feel any pressure 😳 (i got too excited and wrote a lot....whoops)

warnings: bakugou(swearing), mention of getting cut, mention of blood

Katsuki Bakugou

bakugou is an angry guy, everyone knows that. but today he was especially pissed off. he had gotten into a heated argument with kirishima after training. usually he didn’t care but this time he knew he was wrong but was too damn stubborn and prideful ever admit it.

so instead of working it out with his best friend he was just extra pissed off today. which was unfortunate for you.

when he came back to the shared dorms, you were busy cooking some spicy ramen for the both of you. luckily you had finished training earlier that day, so you and time to surprise your boyfriend!

stomping feet could be heard as you dished yourself and bakugou up, and hearing the stomping meant you knew he was close by. lucky for you he was actually sitting at a nearby table, grumbling to himself about something. you didn’t know what however.

excited to surprise your lover, you practically skip over to the angry blonde. “katsuki! i made some spicy for you~” when you set the bowl in front of him he just grunted and swiped it off the table. “leave me the fuck alone.”

he didn’t even spare you a glance as you just gawked at him, what had you done wrong? gulping nervously you’re just turned to start cleaning up. you used napkins to pick up and wipe up the spilled ramen then started to pick up the broken ceramic.

you didn’t notice that a particular piece was sharp, grabbing it caused you to feel a stinging situation in your palm. so when you pulled away it dragged, creating a now bleeding gash in your palm.

a whimper escaped from you, quickly applying pressure to the wound to delay the bleeding. you moved to the kitchen and used paper towels to clean up your bloody palm, all while bakugou sat there blissfully unaware.

as you cleaned yourself up, the still extra angry male got up from the table and stomped off to his room. he scolded you to leave him alone, because he was actuallt considering apologizing. that thought was pissing him off, and not to mention thinking about how to be kind for once was a slight challenge. only because he was stubborn in this matter.

by the time bakugou was in his dorm room, you had finished up cleaning and were now wrapping up your hand with some gauze because a bandaid wouldn’t suffice. even if bakugou didn’t eat the ramen, didn’t mean you would let it go to waste.

but as your began to ate, you were replaying the situation to try and figure out what went wrong. sure bakugou has a bad temper but this was a different kind of anger which you haven’t seen before. you were absolutely certain you didn’t do anything wrong, so why was bakugou upset?

quickly finishing up your meal and putting away your dishes, you went to bakugou’s room because you were worried about him. it was honestly kinda crazy on how you weren’t even angry or upset with the male, just worried for him because you loved him that much.

everyone has their moments and slip ups were they release their anger on to someone else unintentionally, and you knew that very well. because of a certain boy.

standing in front of your boyfriends door, you knocked. when he didn’t respond after a few seconds you just opened the door and proceeded.

“oi! who said you— oh.” his angry expression faltered when he saw you standing there. lucky for you he was able to calm down after thinking it through and developing a plan. a perfect plan to be precise. nothing less from the ambitious guy himself.

“about earlier, are you okay? you haven’t eaten yet and i know you’re angry.” you shut the door behind you and join bakugou on his bed. bakugou lets out a sigh, leaning back against his headboard and staring at the ceiling.

“you a stalker or something? how can you always read me so well.” bakugou let out another sigh, this time more of a huff as he patted the space beside him. signaling you to sit by him.

as you scooted over to place yourself by him you responded, “i’m your lover katsuki, i think it would be bad if i didn’t know you well wouldn’t it?” the blonde glanced at you then did a little nod. he knew you knew him well, and he kinda loved how sometimes you could practically read his mind.

“i got into a fight with shittyhair, i don’t want to say more because i know i’ll get mad again.” as the spiky blonde explained, he noticed the gauze around your hand. he immediately grabbed your wrist, being gentle, and brought you hand up. “what happened.”

hearing bakugou’s stern tone made you gulp, “i cut myself that’s all! just need to be more careful.” even though you were playing cool bakugou also knew you too well as well. he thought back to when he spotted you in the kitchen, you didn’t have this before. even if you thought bakugou didn’t spare you a glance, he would always look at you once. whether you notice it or not.

his jaw clenched when he realized that he was the cause of this, great today he fucked up twice with two of the people he valued deeply. his silence was definitely worrying you, was he going to yell? you weren’t sure what to expect for once.

his next move you did give you a bit of a surprise. your boyfriend leaned forward and pressed such a soft kiss against your forward. you never knew his kisses could feel so gentle yet loving. “i’m sorry.”

even if his apology was simple, it was all he needed to say. the rest was communicated with his actions. you smiled brightly at bakugou, reciprocating his actions, you pressed a loving kiss against his lips.

the rest of the night was filled with lots of kisses and a plethora of cuddles.

Shouto Todoroki

there is no beating around the bush here, todoroki was having an absolutely terrible day. he was supposed to visit his mother but his father visited him instead. he lectured his son about how he needs to focus on becoming the number one hero, not messing around with a lover. this led to an agruement which also stopped him from seeing his mother because visiting hours had ended by the time he got there.

so when he came back to the dorm, after an entire day basically going garage. he was not happy, in fact he was quite pissed. he didn’t even try to hide his scowl as he passed by you.

“sho? hey sho what’s wrong?” your boyfriend stopped to look back at you. “(y/n) i’m fine. just a little tired.” todoroki went to turn, but you grabbed his hand.

“are you sure? you should eat dinner before going to bed at least. i even have some left over cold soba!” before he could reject you you dragged him off into the kitchen and served him the left over soba you made for yourself not to long ago.

“(y/n) i’m not hungry.” he replied simply. but you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. “sho please eat.” you insisted.

this turned into a banter of back and forth between you two. you kept insisting he ate, whike todoroki kept refusing. he was losing his patience with each time.

as a last cause resort and grabbed his hand and placed the bowl in it, “shouto you need to eat!” your tone was raised and more stern this time. you weren’t angry but just concerned and worried.

but this pushed todoroki over the edge. his hands trembled for a moment before he chucked the bowl at the ground, “(y/n), you don’t need to act like a parent. i can do whatever i want.”

the fact that todoroki didn’t even raise his voice at you, yet it held so much anger, made you tremble in fear. you stood there frozen in shock as your boyfriend proceeded to walk away.

your fists clenched at your sides, now you were getting upset like todoroki was. how could he just throw the food on the ground? besides he was never one to act like this. sure he got angry, as everyone does, but it was another level.

you crouched down and started to pick up the broken pieces of the bowl. trying your best to be careful. but as you reached for a piece of ceramic, another piece of the broken bowl dragged along your finger. immediately you pulled your hand back, cringing at the stinging sensation. there was another piece of bowl beside the one you were reaching, which had a sharp edge sticking up towards you.

you swore under your breath as bleed started to leak from the wound, getting up to take care of it before you finished cleaning up.

on the other hand, todoroki was cooling off in his room. and now starting to feel guilty for what he had said and done. he knew he shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. but you just happened to push him over the edge.

he wasn’t angry with you, no, mostly at himself. he knew he should’ve informed his father himself that he started dating you, but he never got around to it. which led him to finding out on his own and the previous agruement to occur.

but even if his father disagreed, there was no way he was going to lose you. he would prove that you were no distraction, and in fact motivation. before he could prove that, he need to apologize to you first.

leaving his room, he went back down to see if you were still in the kitchen area. but you weren’t, so he went back up to the dorm rooms.

when he got to your room, he didn’t bother knock and just opened the door. “(y/n)?” hearing todoroki’s voice made you look up from your phone. you were just scrolling on social media to take your mind off you little fight with your boyfriend

“shouto, do you need something?” you watched as he came into your room, shutting the door behind him, and going straight to you. he sat himself down across from you, looking at his lap as he thought of how to say what he wanted.

“i’m sorry for throwing your soba. i’m sure it was amazing, but i was just angry. before i was able to visit my mother, my father stopped me give me a scolding about how he disagrees with our relationship.” todoroki looked up at you as he finished, surprised to see how sad you looked.

“but (y/n) don’t worry, i’m not letting him stop our relationship. i can never give you up, please remember that i always love you.” he reached out and gently held your face in his hands, not wanting you to think that he would ever let someone like his father get in the way of you both.

your frown was soon replaced with a smile, honestly you were slightly embarrassed to let yourself think that todoroki would give up on your relationship just because of his own dad.

nuzzling you’re face into his touch, you reached up and covered his hands with your own. but as you did so, todoroki was quick to notice that your finger was covered up by a large bandage.

“was that from me?” todoroki asked as he frowned, letting go of your face and carefully taking your hand so that he could look at your finger.

“no sho! it was my fault, i was careless.” you watched as todoroki lightly shook his head. “no it’s my fault my love, i’m sorry again.” he brought your hand up to his face and placed a warm kiss against your bandaged finger.

watching him made your heart flutter, how did you end up with such a caring boy? todoroki didn’t stop kissing just your finger. he kissed the back of your palm then moved forward to kiss your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your lips.

you smiled happily against his lips. you just so happy to know that nothing could get between you and your beloved. not even his father. and not even a bowl of soba.