#jihoon & jet.

[husbandhoshi]

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. smut tags: oral (m!receiving), mirror shenanigans, unprotected sex, softdom!shua, mating press, idk. they're in love your honor. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now. 

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way. 

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV. 

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.” 

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt. 

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list. 

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.  

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.” 

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of. 

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.” 

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.” 

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you. 

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game. 

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.” 

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.” 

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care. 

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.” 

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain. 

“Party?” 

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you. 

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well. 

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows. 

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual. 

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.” 

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it. 

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano. 

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?” 

“No,” Jeonghan says.  “I've been great. You?” 

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.” 

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth. 

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap. 

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries. 

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?” 

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you. 

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image. 

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though. 

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.” 

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting. 

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise. 

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.” 

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks. 

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.” 

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love. 

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked. 

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung. 

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.” 

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement. 

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung. 

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was. 

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing. 

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern. 

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.] 

– 

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well. 

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents. 

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat. 

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you. 

“How'd you know?” he chuckles. 

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.” 

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this. 

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt. 

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone. 

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before. 

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?” 

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all. 

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.” 

“Sounds lonely.” 

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.” 

Joshua hums, low and deep. 

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?” 

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.” 

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?” 

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” 

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.” 

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart. 

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.” 

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl. 

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.” 

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.” 

“Yeah.” 

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“No. I don't think I can.” 

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat. 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“What?” 

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.” 

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse. 

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows. 

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.” 

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright. 

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier. 

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet. 

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?” 

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?” 

“I said, don’t you hate the range?” 

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.” 

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye. 

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?” 

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs. 

Bang. Bang. 

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.” 

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?” 

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.” 

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?” 

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.” 

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.” 

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked. 

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts. 

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.) 

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.” 

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette. 

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.” 

“Does Josh know?” 

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.” 

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener. 

You watch Jihoon steady his arms. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua. 

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol. 

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana. 

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years. 

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress. 

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips. 

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song. 

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat. 

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed. 

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you. 

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.” 

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is. 

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over. 

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?” 

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later. 

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you. 

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt. 

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.” 

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies. 

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.” 

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks. 

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.” 

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales. 

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock. 

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy. 

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back. 

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it. 

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.” 

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life. 

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this. 

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch. 

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin. 

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.” 

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message. 

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy. 

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan. 

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent. 

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples. 

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time. 

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it. 

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties. 

“ ‘m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—” 

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy. 

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now. 

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.” 

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.” 

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.” 

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still. 

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?” 

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do. 

—

“We’re in Barcelona!” 

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes. 

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?” 

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.” 

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.” 

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.” 

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?” 

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?” 

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background. 

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.) 

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”  

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.” 

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.” 

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.” 

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.” 

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again. 

“You fucked him, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Halfway. Maybe.” 

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated. 

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.” 

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again. 

– 

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria. 

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since. 

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.” 

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving. 

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did. 

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?” 

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.” 

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now. 

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today. 

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

“Hey, cricket?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.” 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.” 

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?” 

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.” 

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat. 

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.” 

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.” 

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.” 

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life. 

“You didn’t even look back.” 

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs. 

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.” 

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?” 

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.” 

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.” 

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too. 

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.” 

“What?” 

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out. 

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.” 

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.” 

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.” 

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work. 

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal. 

“Truce.” 

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting. 

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns. 

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet. 

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you. 

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong. 

For what? 

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up. 

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out. 

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet. 

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on. 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night. 

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.” 

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight. 

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine. 

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?” 

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench. 

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?” 

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest. 

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.” 

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly. 

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases. 

“And country’s already seen it all.” 

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach. 

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten. 

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing. 

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” 

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.” 

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin. 

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.” 

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.” 

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.) 

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.” 

“I'm putting you in remediation.” 

“Devastating.” 

“And giving you homework.” 

“Whatever shall I do?” 

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before. 

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror. 

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.” 

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath. 

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be. 

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights. 

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels. 

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.” 

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?” 

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.” 

“Without me?” 

“We’ll catch you up.” 

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights. 

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours. 

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music. 

“I thought this was champagne.” 

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones. 

The first shot goes down easy. It always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.) 

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price. 

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist. 

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear. 

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot. 

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!” 

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. It wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind. 

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.” 

“Life stuff, right?” 

“Yeah.”  

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.” 

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think. 

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on. 

—

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university. 

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping. 

You crack open your text messages. 

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY. 

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear 

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot. 

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right. 

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that. 

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door. 

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy. 

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.” 

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.” 

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.  

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.” 

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?” 

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend. 

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.” 

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.” 

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point. 

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.” 

A stunned silence falls over the room. 

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here. 

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave. 

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party. 

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding. 

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase. 

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be. 

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real. 

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life. 

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious. 

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?” 

“Is it really that obvious?” 

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.” 

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.” 

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?” 

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do. 

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress. 

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down. 

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers. 

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this. 

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube. 

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country. 

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him. 

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest. 

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds. 

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending. 

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow. 

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.  

“Can we talk about Sunday?” 

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it. 

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.” 

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades. 

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.” 

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper. 

“I said a lot of things that morning.” 

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be. 

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.” 

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong. 

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings. 

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.” 

“The act?” 

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?” 

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult. 

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin. 

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?” 

Your heart lurches. 

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.” 

“Because I’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.” 

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.” 

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.” 

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon. 

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts. 

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.” 

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant. 

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.” 

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.  

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes. 

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth. 

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.” 

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.” 

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth. 

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin. 

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone. 

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.” 

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met." 

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them." 

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's New Year’s Eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days." 

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?” 

“Done.” 

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock. 

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.” 

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?” 

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.” 

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs. 

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?” 

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you. 

 “I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.” 

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.  

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.” 

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. Like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. The dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.” 

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb. 

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out. 

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity. 

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.” 

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck. 

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.” 

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad. 

“You needed lessons.” 

“Not really, don’t you think?” 

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.” 

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders. 

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric. 

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath. 

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face. 

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?” 

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.” 

“Hm?” 

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.” 

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.” 

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.” 

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips. 

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it. 

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.” 

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut. 

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.) 

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life. 

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your sweet spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling. 

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble. 

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?” 

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here. 

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours. 

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Together?” you offer weakly. 

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.” 

“Oh nooo.” 

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again. 

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe. 

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included. 

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did. 

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?” 

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions. 

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold. 

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home. 

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day. 

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat. 

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas. 

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant. 

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.” 

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.” 

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

[wilds1de]

"that bartender handed out more ice packs tonight than he did drinks," he jokes dryly. it's an over exaggeration, obviously, but with the number of fights heartbreaker bar has seen tonight, it's not that far fetched or unbelievable! after the drama packed and busy night he's had, jet's quiet presence is a welcome one, a change of pace. like, the night is slowing down for a few minutes. it's much needed. if tonight is anything to go by, the meet won't pass devoid of any drama, either. maybe he's just feeling pessimistic tonight. not like valentine's day has him in high spirits or anything. "happy valentine's day to the lot of us, eh?" he shrugs. "yeah, i've been here for hours. you caught any of the fights?" a pause. "doesn't look like you have high hopes for the meet." not that he does. he's on that same boat.

the   chuckle   is   a   good   sign,   jet   thinks.   if   jihoon   can   laugh   about   the   sorry   state   of   his   face,   maybe   all   hope   for   the   prowlers’   egos   is   not   lost.   “i   guess   handing   ice   packs   out   isn’t   on   the   job   description.”   he   leans   onto   the   table   in   front   of   them,   suddenly   hit   by   the   not-so-uncomfortable   quiet   that   always   settles   over   his   conversations   with   jihoon.   there’s   not   much   pressure   to   talk   –   or   really,   to   defend   himself.   not   that   he   feels,   really.   it’s   a   change   of   pace   that   leaves   him   feeling   a   little   looser   than   he   did   a   couple   seconds   prior.   he   fights   back   a   yawn   and   shrugs   his   shoulders   up.   “   no.   but   i   don’t   think   anyone   is.   ”   jet   answers   honestly.   “   you’re   like   the   third   or   fourth   prowler   i’ve   seen   doing   this   tonight.   ”   he   gestures   to   the   room   temperature   ice   pack   in   jihoon’s   hands.   “   mm…   maybe   by   those   standards,   i   did   have   a   good   night.   but   it’s   still   early.   it   could   get   worse.   ”

[sluttyminghao]

can u write about how sex in the hot tub would go with each member LMFAO thank u🎀🎀🎀🎀

seungcheol: it's hard and fast, his face is buried in your chest and honestly I think he would forget that he's in a hot tub and would blow load after load into you

jeonghan: i think he would find it hot at first but then he'd start getting too hot himself and would be sweating bullets so would have to get out (and fuck you outside the hot tub)

joshua: I feel like he wouldn't like the amount of germs in the water so it's just a heavy makeout session with fondling on both ends until neither of you can take it anymore

junhui: he just lets you bounce on his lap for a while, enjoying how everything jiggles when you move. when he's about to cum, he would want to cum in your mouth

soonyoung: he would make great use of the jets in the hot tub, uses them as stimulation and overstimulation for not just you, but for himself as well

wonwoo: although he wouldn't be a fan, he does it for you. his favourite thing is feeling how tense you get even with the water gently lapping around you

jihoon: he would fuck you without a care in the world in a hot tub, and honestly? he wouldn't even care if someone was watching, he just loves the way the waves lap around your moving body

seokmin: he would get so so whiny and grabby, and I feel like he would become more sensitive in the water? he seems like the type who would and cums so much quicker

mingyu: he's going to fuck you in every position he can in the water, even if it means he has to be fully under the water for a brief period. dude just loves getting laid

minghao: would make use of the jets pt 2., points them at your most sensitive spots to see how many times he can get you to cum while he's fucking you

seungkwan: I don't think he would like it too much tbh? too much going on and he can't focus on you, but he would do it if it makes you happy

vernon: he would let you use his dick however you want, he's going to bury himself in your neck and leave hickies because he's so overwhelmed with pleasure

chan: he's going to fuck you as hard as he would in any other place or position. the water doesn't add lube, but he uses his saliva to lubricate whatever needs it. he loves how the water splashes when he fucks you extra hard.

[mingtinys]

lost for words

pairing : lee jihoon x gn!reader

fluff , drabble , ultimate simp jihoon

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

requested ? no

a/n : this is what i imagine it would sound like if woozi wrote his own "shall i compare thee to a summers day"

Jihoon is nothing short of talented. A maestro amongst artists and a musical prodigy to his peers.

He can pluck strings until they sing and make his fingertips fly across piano keys in a way that makes them melt together into a symphony. He can breathe life into a school child's recorder that could charm a brewing storm and he can fit together words like a jigsaw to reveal a lyrical masterpiece worthy of the Louvre. Trust, Jihoon has no qualms over his musical competence.

But how is it that he struggles to find any combination of words suitable to the occasion? Why now does his brain falter when it thinks of ways to encompass just how much he loves you? Not a dictionary in the world would be adequate enough to measure that of which he feels.

Because what he feels for you could not possibly be contained to ink on paper, you're much too special for something as archaic as that. Everything about you is so breathtaking. An enigma he's simply been blessed to experience in this lifetime. Jihoon could carve your likeness into crystal under the moonlight and it wouldn't be nearly as mesmerizing as the real thing.

Jihoon believes you outshine even the brightest stars against a jet-black sky. He'd choose the ones in your eyes to stare at for hours over the Milky Way in a heartbeat. Your voice sings a sweeter melody than Apollo's harp on a warm summer day. One he wishes he could capture and play on a loop for all of eternity. If all of history's greatest composers put their minds to one piece, still, they could not conduct a symphony worthy of your essence.

And, oh, how you call his name has him hearing bells. You light a fire inside him like flint dragged across steel— like a bow across strings. Your hand fits into his palm like the bout of a violin and he can't get enough of the harmony you bring to his life. Just your presence alone grounds him in ways he never knew possible.

When he kisses your lips, Jihoon can taste a song so decedent it leaves him full for days. Soft and delicate touches that crescendo into passion personified pluck at the strings of his heart in the late hours. The feeling of his arms around your waist as you sleep provides an indomitable security. Your even breaths fan against his collarbone like a lullaby, easing him to sleep. Then, when he wakes, you're still there, greeting him like a songbird.

You are his muse, his life, and everything more.

Jihoon understands now why so many of history's greatest ballads are written for lovers. Because the human language is a fickle thing. Always changing, never quite perfect, unsatisfactory in the eyes of man. Music lives on for centuries beyond their composers. It is, by all definitions of the word, immortal. There will always be someone to enjoy its tune and pass it down for years to come.

A song is but a time capsule of the memories that brought it to life. And Jihoon is not a man selfish enough to deny future generations of your beauty. He would write a song a day if it meant cementing your memory in history.

If only he could find the words.

"Are you ready?" Seungcheol's deep voice pierces through the thin silence.

"Not at all." Jihoon inhales as deeply as he can in his suit that feels one away thread from being too tight, then exhales slowly. The parchment with his vows crinkles and folds at the bend between his fingers.

The words in his palm are no soliloquy, but his heart bled them with every ounce of love he could muster through shaky hands. And the gold band on his finger is a gentle reminder he has a lifetime to spend writing ballads in your honor. There are only two words he needs to worry about right now.

I do.

[marvelous-llama]

Seventeen recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

the cake in the back by @toruro

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 3.8k) baker!reader, single parent!Sungcheol, acquaintances to lovers - fluff, smut cheol is a regular at your bakery, and it's all because his son loves the banana bread you make—at least that's what he tells himself. it also doesn't hurt that you're cute. and polite. and totally someone he'd like to fuck.

Dream Ride by @bambikisss

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 4.3k) strangers to lovers - fluff?, smut You haven't been able to sleep much lately, so you've been driving around at night to help ease your mind. However, you keep passing by the same jet black colored motorcycle every night, which then keeps showing up in your dreams. So when you stop one night to get gas and see the same motorcycle stopped nearby, you decide to meet the man under the helmet.

Crossing Boundaries by @wonusite

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 8.6k) nanny!reader, boss x employee to lovers, mutual pining - fluff, smut Seungcheol has always demanded that all of his employees keep professional boundaries, but it frustrates him that his son’s nanny is a little too good at keeping things professional.

Let Me Love You by @gyuwoncheol

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 5.3k) established relationship - fluff, smut You just want to shower Cheol with all the love and softness in the world and he’s determined to do the same.

Sentinel´s Serenade by @starlightxsvt

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 29.5k) bodyguard!Sungcheol, heiress!reader - angst, drama, romance, hurt/comfort, smut As you start digging up an accident that has been brushed under the rug, you make an enemy who is out to get you no matter what. Amidst all the chaos you develop feelings for your bodyguard who has built walls of steel around him.

Black Suit by @gyuranhae

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 5.3k) mafia AU, established relationship - smut You just couldn't help if you husband looked so good on an all black suit.

Seungcheol´s Letters by @wonustars

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 23.5k) best friends > fwb > lovers, university AU, slowburn - angst, fluff, smut all it took was one kiss and suddenly you and Seungcheol’s friendship has turned upside down. In other words: exploring how far the boundaries of your lifelong friendship can take the two of you, you and Seungcheol try to navigate what it's like to be friends with benefits. just because you're secrelty in love with each other won't fuck everything up...right?

Like You Do by @hannieehaee

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 7.8k) brother´s best friend, enemies to lovers - angst, fluff, smut when your brother's best friend suddenly reveals his newfound crush on you, you find yourself at a crossroads, thinking back to your own unrequited crush on him from back in middle school, making you wonder if you should be the better person and give him a chance.

off the market by @gyuzgrl

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 4.5k) strangers to lovers - fluff, smut You have a crush on your favourite customer. He's big and kind and pretty and god the things you wanted to do to him were unholy. Little do you know, he feels the exact same way.

all for you by @gfcheol

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 4.6k) friends to lovers - fluff, smut, hurt/comfort your boyfriend, wonwoo, just broke up with you to be with someone else. heartbroken and self esteem shattered, you sink into a hole of sadness, but luckily your best friend seungcheol knows the best remedy for you to stop thinking about your ex.

babymaker by @onlyseokmins

Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 7.9k) fwb to lovers, roommates to lovers - fluff, angst(ish), smut

series

Elevator by @wongyuuu

Jihoon x fem!reader, Seungcheol x fem!reader (wc - 10k + 17k) soulmate AU - angst, fluff, hurt/comfort in a world where soulmates exists, jihoon is faced with difficult decisions part 1, part 2

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 1: Under Dimmed Street Lights

Chapter Word Count: 3,262

TW

Talking about drugging someone, implied torture, implied murder

Master List | Next

Night had fallen over the sullen city. It was the third day in a row where rain beat down, washing away any and all life when the streets rested. Tonight should have been no different in the late spring rain. The streets were nearly empty, the only ones that wandered the shadows crept in the night.

The edge of the metropolis was littered with industry and warehouses that boarded the waterways to international waters, some decrepit and run down while others held storage. A few warehouses rested in the borders of both old and new, camouflage well behind signage of a known shipping and packaging company worldwide. 

The lights barely seen from the windows weren’t bright, wishing to not draw unwanted attention to any outsiders that wished to travel the area so late. Doors on the outside were well guarded, each man armed with heavy artillery, concealed the best they could, and walkie-talkies, dressed well to hide exactly who they were. The overhangs protected them from any direct rain yet they would be soaked and freezing by morning fall. 

Inside was bustling, men and women moving wooden crates and metal locked boxes either into vans or into vault storage further in. Nothing was labeled, it was easier that way, but all personnel knew what each container vaguely held. It wasn’t a secret that it was sketchy, it wasn’t their place to judge based on their line of work, but it was demanding and little mistakes could unravel the very foundation of the business. 

Above the busy bodies that littered the main floor, guards on catwalks watched closely for any cracks in productivity. One move in the wrong was a broken hand, one step in opposition was a bullet through the head. In the far back of the building held a second floor and large windows that watched over each and every process that passed through the doors. 

“Jihoon has a lot cut out for himself tonight.” A voice snickered out the words, the person’s eyes scanning over the vans that were coming and going through the building. “Not like he planned to sleep much tonight anyways.” 

“Don’t let him hear you say that, Soonyoung, he’ll lace your drink again.” Someone from a lone couch spoke up.

A scoff left the man, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the rest in the room. Some lazed idly on couches while others sat back at the conference table, a few pairs of feet propped up on said table. 

“All I told him then was that he looked about as attractive as a zombie and suddenly he took all the offense in the world like he hasn’t said worse to me.” 

“And yet you still opened your mouth to say it to him. You’d think for the ‘great judge of character’ you are, you’d be better at reading your best friend's body language.”

A huff came from the man at the back of the room, sitting hunched over a sleek ebony desk, a stack of papers held in his hands. Jet black hair fell over his eyes as he peered past his bangs, looking over the small congregation before him. “If you are willing to run your mouths, why don’t you go down and help him if you are so concerned.” 

One laughed from his lounged spot on the couch, not bothering to lift his head. “I think I’d rather bite the bullet than annoy Jihoon and have a gun to my head, Seungcheol.” 

“Another word, Seungkwan, and I will order you to join him.” 

Dark eyes watched as Seungkwan mimicked zipping his lips and throwing away the key, settling back into the cushions and tapping away on his phone.

“Now if any of you can track down Joshua and Jeo-” Seungcheol’s words were cut off by the door to the room slamming open. 

Strolling through the entrance, two tall, black clad figures stepped through, one wearing a long trench coat, his shoulder length hair half tied up in a ponytail. His companion wore a sleek leather jacket, chocolate brown, medium length hair down and pushed back from his face to see. They spoke loudly, everyone else’s attention being drawn to them. As the one wearing the leather jacket closed the door firmly, laughing at something the other said, Seungcheol cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair, sending a glare towards the two. 

“Speaking of the literal devils, you’re late.” 

“Ah, Cheol,” Trench coat spoke up, striding over to the man’s desk and leaning himself against it, back facing Seungcheol. “We aren’t late, you are just early as per usual.” 

With a click of his tongue, Seungcheol rolled his eyes and stood, rounding the desk and making his way to the head of the table. “Sit, Jeonghan, We have a lot to discuss tonight and the tardiness is already eating into my time.” 

From an unspoken order, each of the other twelve men in the room gathered around the table, taking their seats in relative silence. Seungcheol waited patiently as Jeonghan took a seat to his left while the new leather clad figure took a seat to his right. He picked the walkie-talkie off his belt and called for Jihoon who appeared not a few moments after everyone else was settled, locking the door before taking his seat.

While Seungcheol’s shoulders relaxed, his face held a stern expression, looking about his team. 

“Wonwoo, report.” 

The man pushed his glasses up his nose further, scrolling through something on his phone. “They aren’t any closer to finding us, Seokmin’s interference and my entrance to the mainframe is still strong. I don’t see any problem going forward with slipping more false information to them. As for the mayor, Vernon and I have delivered the papers regarding his affair and are awaiting a response.” The second aforementioned man nodded with Wonwoo’s words, speaking up himself. 

“I also slid some of his daughter’s partying to him so he was more inclined to agree.” 

Seungcheol nodded, turning his gaze to another. “Seokmin, anything to add?” 

Though the room was dim, his bright eyes lit up and a cocky smile spread on his face. “I have the department heads looking somewhere in the next city for a new lead on us but I doubt they won’t find more than a body thanks to Chan.” 

“Jihoon, how are the shipments coming?” 

A hum left the man, pulling a pile of folded papers from his back pocket and flipping through them. “Everything has been accounted for so far regarding pills and such. I had them weigh everything and it’s correct. Weapons are clean at first glance, no serial numbers. All that will be needed is disassembly and reassembly to make sure each one is undamaged then we can ship out.” 

“Let me know if there are any issues with the next shipment, we’ve been experiencing issues with the supplier recently.” With a nod from Jihoon, Seungcheol continues on. “Soonyoung?” 

“Oh- ah!” Soonyoung smiled, sharp eyes gleaming with something…dark. “The trader we grabbed wasn’t giving up any information so I kicked it up a notch but…” He waved his hand in the air, trying to find the words but his hand fell flat on the table and a pout formed on his lips. “He had a mental break and we just ended it, we found some info on his phone and took some names down.” 

Raising a brow, Seungcheol crossed his arms, tilting his head in curiosity. “Define…mental break.” 

“Oh! The usual, screaming, crying, begging for mercy, then something about the devil and he went cynical before he started mumbling to himself and wasn’t responsive. I barely even touched the guy, just a few threats about his wife and it just threw him over the edge I guess. She is clean by the way, Wonu checked. She is just a housewife who thought her husband was a delivery man. We set a guy out to let her know he died on the job and had to quell her questions.” Soonyoung sent a wink to Seungcheol who barely blinked, unamused. He’d take it at that. 

“Joshua, have you moved the money offshore like I asked?” 

“Yeah, boss,” He spoke up, taking a phone from his jacket pocket, unlocked it, and slid it to the other. “6.3 million. Mingyu and Seungkwan are handling the rest towards the shipping company, putting it into supplies and international business as you requested.” 

Nodding, Seungcheol eyed the others he hasn’t called out for or those unmentioned, “Junhui, Minghao, Chan, how is preparing for the next sent out?” 

Minghao cleared his throat, resting his elbows on the table. “We drive out tomorrow night. If all goes well, we should be back by the following morning after disposal. If a problem arises, one of us will reach out and figure out a solution. I didn’t see any issues as of now.” 

Chan and Junhui both nodded in agreement and Junhui spoke up. “The cars are almost packed and new plates were grabbed.” 

From his left, a small snicker was heard. “Aren’t you going to ask me, Cheol?” 

Staring blankly down the table, Seungcheol looked at nothing of interest, not bothering to look at the nuisance to his side. “You are going to talk anyways, start before I kick you out.” 

Another snicker, this one louder and full of mischief. “We have two cargos coming in within the month from overseas, some new artillery are coming and a few different crates of drugs,” Jeonghan rested his elbow on the chairs armrest and curled a clump of hair around his finger, “I have a very lovely painting coming in that is worth a pretty penny and will be displaying it in the house.”

He turned a bit, gauging the reaction of the others; a few eyerolls and quiet sighs at his antics. 

“A few exotic animals, a tiger,” He winked to Soonyoung who lit up. “Some katanas were liberated from a museum, heard something about a Japanese general but I didn’t listen much after that one. Fancy cigars, cigarettes.” Jeonghan listed them off nonchalantly, humming quietly as he thought. “Original paintings I had some people take after replacing them for fun. As for the fight-”

“That’s enough.” Seungcheol’s stern voice rang through the room laced with annoyance. He pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning as he felt the sinister grin staring at the side of his face. “Wipe that stupid look off your face.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, you aren’t even looking at me.” Jeonghan teased. 

“Lock up everything in the vaults. If you have nothing to do, get back to the house and rest. Jihoon, have the men start on everything tomorrow, we are ahead of schedule and have no need to rush. We can pick up everything tomorrow evening.” The leader stood, motioning to Joshua and Jeonghan to not move. “Everyone dismissed.” 

One by one they filed out of the room, bidding goodnights or figuring out who was leaving with who. Jeonghan and Joshua made no motion to move, both sending waves to their younger ones, saying they’d see them at home. When the door closed behind the last of their group, Seungcheol fell back into his chair, grumbling out a few intelligent words. 

“Hmm… my dear King,” Jeonghan hummed, using the leader’s call name. “Maybe a night's rest will do you some good as well, don’t you think?” 

“And don’t go making excuses for needing to stay up and finish reports when no one is going to care about them until tomorrow when you can get them done.” Joshua added, resting his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the table. 

“Why are you grilling me when I should be grilling you for being late again? ” Seungcheol questioned, scoffing loudly and rolled his eyes. “Just because you both are heads of shit, doesn’t mean you can blatantly disregard orders from me , do you understand that?” 

Any hint of mischief that lingered beneath Jeonghan’s face was gone and he averted his gaze. Joshua was in a similar position, folding his hands now on the table. 

“Mind telling me why you were nearly half an hour late?” 

“We were getting things ready for fight night.” Jeonghan answered obediently, letting a held breath out of his nose. “One of the vendors was causing…problems so Shua and I had to handle the situation before getting back here for the meeting.” 

“Did you-” 

“He’s dead. He was trying to steal.” Jeonghan cut through the question with a sharp tongue, irritation written across his face. “And we had to dispose of the evidence.” 

Seungcheol looked to Joshua for confirmation, watching him nod and reach a hand into his jacket. It took no time for a simple handgun to be placed on the table before the three of them. Joshua took the magazine out and showed the counter, a singular bullet missing from the cartridge as final proof. 

“We already secured a new vendor.” The youngest of the three deadpanned, sharing a dull look between them.

They sat in relative silence, letting the weight of any stress settle in the pits of their stomachs before Jeonghan shook his head and stood, motioning his head towards the door. 

“Come on. Let’s get home before someone outside of Mingyu and Seokmin tries to cook.” 

The ride out the city was usually quiet at this time of night. Taking the back roads was a constant for protection and invisible movement, Seungcheol insisted on it since the beginnings of their operations. He wasn’t one to carelessly dangle the lives of his chosen family and didn’t plan on losing any of them any time soon. Jeonghan gazed aimlessly out the window, watching the trees that encompassed their home pass by. 

Seungcheol came to a near stop, hitting a button on his phone for the gates to slide open when within range and easily driving down the path. Another expanse of trees surrounded the now dirty road, hiding their home from any peering eyes that were dumb enough to get close. 

As the treeline broke, their home’s main building came into view. The structure itself was a bit much, but when their first large distribution was a success through their underground business and the cover shipping company was easily growing, Seungcheol decided to scrape the home he held in inheritance from his long forgotten grandfather and built one for his new, found family. 

It was more of a mid-century modern mansion. Seungcheol wanted something basic but the influence of everyone had provided the consensus of wanting it to feel like a proper, warmth filled home. Seokmin had made a joke when they first entered the house that it was warm and homey, a perfect place for the cold blooded mafia. His comment only fueled the fire to make it feel like a normal home. Despite the field of work, their home was just that: a home. They cleaned up after themselves, cooked for one another – or well, some of them cooked for one another – and were able to properly relax. 

Pulling up in front of the house and hitting another button for the large garage to open, Joshua snorted from the backseat at the hoard of mostly cars and a lone bike taking up nearly every spot. “At least they still know to leave your spot open.” 

Near the back of the garage, closest to the door, Seungcheol parked the car, eyes resting on the crudely taped up sign that was put there a year or two back; Reserved for old person #1. Chan had found it hilarious when he and Seungkwan had it made, even getting one for Jeonghan and Joshua with #2 and #3. Jeonghan had found it funny, seeing as he joked he was indeed getting too old for this shit . Joshua humored his younger members and even customized a sign with his name to place under it when he could find the damn screw gun that someone took and never returned to the workshop. 

Jeonghan was first to step out of the car, stretching his long limbs and starting to take off his long coat as he stepped up the three steps to the door, easily pushing it open. 

“You finally got back!” Mingyu called out, Jeonghan taking note that the taller man was standing at the stove, stirring something that smells absolutely divine . He had dressed down from his usual black trousers and button-up in exchange for plaid pajama pants and a loose t-shirt. “I’m making spicy chicken stew at Junhui’s request, and I have a less spicy one depending on what everyone wants.” 

Jeonghan sent him a small ‘ thanks’ , saying he is going to his room to change since he still had time before everything was ready. Mingyu nodded and greeted the other two who entered from the garage. 

As he walked through the kitchen into the living room, Seungkwan and Vernon were lounging on the couch together, both on their phones with some drama playing on the obnoxiously large TV hanging on the wall. Where these two were, their youngest was close by even if he wasn’t directly interacting with them. Chan, as expected, wasn’t too far, laying back on one of the other couches, a blanket pulled over a majority of him as he held a book over his glasses-clad face. 

Making his way through the halls, Jeonghan found his room off the main living areas, pushing the door open and flicking on the lights. He tossed his coat onto the bed, the mostly brown and rustic colored scheme welcoming compared to the lodgings they had in the city. Rolling his shoulders, he strided into his closet and tugged out a pair of sweatpants and an old, worn out t-shirt before making his way into the bathroom to shower. 

Stepping out into the living room after freshening up, Jeonghan shuffled his way towards the table, seeing Minghao and Junhui settling the long table for thirteen. They didn’t eat together often but when they could, it typically became a large affair. 

He rounded into the kitchen to start grabbing cups down from the cupboard, easily maneuvering around Mingyu as he finished the last of the food preparations. Jeonghan slid the cups across the middle island to Minghao who grabbed a few in each hand and set them on the table. A comfortable silence settled over them as they worked, gathering any side dishes and placing them across the middle of the table. Jihoon had stumbled out of his room, showered and half asleep to dish out bowls of rice for each person. 

“Time to eat!” Seungcheol yelled down the hall behind him, bare feet padding against the floor with each step. 

In no time, the table was packed and bowls were being filled. Seungcheol had a rule of no major business conversations at the table, but that wasn’t always followed depending on the day. Jeonghan and Joshua, as per usual, took a seat on either side of their leader who sat at the head of the table. 

Aside from the clacking of utensils against the dishes, laughter and conversation flowed between them, brightening up the room with more than just light. It was nice to have normality in the face of chaos that their lives were. Two facades they had to put up most days was exhausting but none of them wished to truly leave. 

A family was founded the day they made a pack and that family will last until the end of time. 

Tag List is Open! Comment on the BSH Master List here to get added!

Tag List:

@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo

[hannieehaee]

what are your all time favourite svt looks?

i made tiny little collages of my two fav looks of each member<33 (i mostly mean their hair tbh lol)

these are out of age order lol sorry</3

chan - black mullet and blonde fluffy mullet

vernon - oreo mullet and jet black hair

seungkwan - regular brown and blonde

dk - black perm with silver streak and red/orange perm

minghao - black straight mullet and grey fluffy mullet

mingyu - long perm and shorter perm

joshua - undercut and fluffy brown perm

jun - black mullet and blonde mullet

jihoon - blonde long hair and fluffy honey hair

soonyoung - short blonde and grey mullet

wonwoo - short hair and long mullet

seungcheol - long blonde and oreo mullet

jeonghan - long perm and long hair with bangs

[thr0ttle]

NEW  PROMPT  ‼️ define  ur  muses  approach  to  loyalty  within  the  crews  &  if  it’s  important  to  them  or  not.  or,  a  realization  in  how  little  the  rodani  prowlers  matter.

see,  it’s  like  you  have  an  imaginary  rope.  name  one  end  pride.  the  other  is  called  loyalty.  you  can’t  divorce  them  from  each  other.  they’re  the  same  and  not  the  same.  it’s  like  you’re  ten  and  playing  tug  of  war  all  over  again.  what  drives  the  win,  the  need  to  topple  the  other  side?  pride.  one  tug  and  they  go  tumbling.  on  the  other  hand:  what  has  you  tugging  harder  for  your  teammates?  loyalty.  against  or  for?  they’re  kind  of  the  same  thing.

what  was  it  you  learned  in  high  school  physics?  every  action  has  an  equal  and  opposite  reaction.  you  want  to  win  —  want  to  be  better  than  the  other  team.  that’s  pride.  right?  

so  the  equal  and  opposite  reaction  must  be  loyalty.  tug  on  pride  and  you  get  loyalty  in  return.  you  want  to  win.  you  get  the  win.  you  serve  the  crew.  that  has  to  count  as  some  semblance  of  loyalty.

(  it’s  different.  you  think  about  the  way  your  fingers  dig  into  tem’s  arm.  the  way  you  sit  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  xile.  there’s  a  memory  of  you  sandwiched  on  the  couch  between  jihoon  and  minkyu.  on  the  hood  of  the  car  next  to  jet,  lips  curled.  slipping  a  pair  of  sunglasses  into  gunwoo’s  hair.  falling  into  steps  with  victoria.  listening  to  the  hum  of  eric’s  car.  across  the  table,  staring  bambi  down.  in  the  dead  of  the  night  with  eddie,  an  unexpected  warmth  sparking.  as  a  stray  dog  trailing  after  kaiyo.  in  the  passenger  seat  watching  hawk’s  deft  fingers  switch  gears.  leaning  against  the  railing  of  some  club  with  giselle.  brushing  past  the  crowd  to  stand  in  front  of  joji.  there’s  rhiannon  draped  over  your  car,  lari  under  it  with  some  tool  you  can't  possibly  name.  even  calling  hana  ‘princess’  is  tinged  with  a  fond  edge  on  the  good  days.  are  you  still  playing  tug  of  war?  you  think  about  how  you’ve  reached  across  the  border,  sometimes,  slipping  past  darius’  apartment  after  he  leaves  your  car.

none  of  that  is  born  from  pride.  )

you  think  you  get  it  —  what  loyalty  is.  it  doesn’t  matter  what  they  do  or  who  they  are.  it’s  bigger  than  that.  you’ve  seen  the  way  jihoon’s  mouth  bares  teeth,  soft  around  the  edges,  when  rome  comes  around.  yours  curve  into  a  scowl  instead.  give  it  a  million  more  years,  and  you’ll  never  understand  that  bond.  you  look  at  xile  and  hunter  and  shake  your  head.  and  then  tem  whines  about  xile,  and  you  nod  and  think  about  how  you  trust  her  hands  more  than  anyone  else’s,  and  you  don’t  say  this  out  loud.  you  witness  eric  and  gunwoo  claw  and  spit  at  each  other  and  you  sit  on  the  sidelines  and  find  both  later,  separate  times  on  separate  nights.  it  doesn’t  matter.  here’s  the  thing  about  pride  and  loyalty.

pride  belongs  to  the  crew.  loyalty  is  yours.  they  don’t  have  to  be  mutually  exclusive.

[lavnderwonu]

seventeen as my favorite 70’s songs! ˖ ࣪⭑

author’s note!: i always say my biggest flex is my music taste. i tried my best to pick songs for the members based on their vibes & personalities. im an old soul & love love love the 70’s. im like a 60 year old in a 24 year old body LOL. 70’s music is one of my all-time favorites other than kpop of course. click the links to listen to the songs & who knows, you might enjoy them just as much as i do! 🪩🕺🏼

choi seungcheol ❀

next to you by the police

waterloo by abba

say you love me by fleetwood mac

yoon jeonghan ❀

silver springs by Fleetwood Mac

i saw the light by todd rundgren

it never rains in southern california by albert hammond

hong joshua ❀ (i can totally picture him in a discotheque… think saturday night fever)

angeleyes by abba

good old-fashioned lover boy by queen

jive talkin’ by the bee gees

wen junhi ❀

love grows (where my rosemary goes) by edison lighthouse

jet by paul mccartney & wings

baba o’riley by the who

kwon soonyoung ❀

i need a lover by john mellencamp

what a fool believes by the doobie brothers

stuck in the middle with you by stealers wheel

jeon wonwoo ❀

burning love by elvis presley

you’re all i’ve got tonight by the cars

rosalinda’s eyes by billy joel

lee jihoon ❀

i was made for lovin’ you by kiss

little dreamer by Van Halen

love will tear us apart by joy division

lee seokmin ❀

don’t bring me down by electric light orchestra

do ya think im sexy? by rod stewart

don’t go breakin’ my heart by elton john & kiki dee

kim mingyu ❀

crazy on you by heart

deuce by kiss

gimme! gimme! gimme! (a man after midnight) by abba

xu minghao ❀

let me roll it by paul mccartney & wings

lover’s rock by the clash

ashes to ashes by david bowie

boo seungkwan ❀ (so abba coded..god)

SOS by abba

two of us by the beatles

hold the line by toto

chwe hansol ❀

lost in the supermarket by the clash

valley of the dolls by generation x

hanging on the telephone by blondie

lee chan ❀

what is life by george harrison

denis by blondie

jamie’s cryin’ by van halen

[gyujeongfmd]

starter for @fmdjace / 4k event

it’s a near riot outside, and he can already feel the tensions of the cameras creeping over him. it’s straight day light, but they feel like the shadows that never dissipate when he takes one step forward, sneaks a peak behind him, only to confirm his suspicions right.

get used to it, right? that’s what they tell you when you step foot into show biz.

yet, it never gets easier and he feels himself tighten up with each step, sliding out his phone only to realize — the ending doesn’t near, and he’s still short a few hours before he gets the nod to jet-straight to the studio. so, he manages. finds a familiar face in the sea of a stray crowd before taking the bread of silence as cue to strike up conversation — either way, he drowns. 

“hey.” he calls out to jihoon, recalling traces of their last bump-in filled with nothing short of peculiar requests. “you still in need of sad songs, or were you just drunk then?” the latter suggestion’s false, but he’s no madman to resurrect something if it’s already buried six feet deep. so, instead, chung gyujeong stays put — both hands in his pockets, shifting inside the silence as he glances over towards his own company member, no expectations in sight.

[changmindayz]

Hi, a biggest star!

This page tells one of the things that i fall in love with the man i always loved. I call him “minnie” as a sign of affection but honestly I’m addicted to calling him like that. He has a good and mature nature, has a good speech and beautiful smile depicts happiness.

You are getting older today. And I'm so grateful that you make this far. I genuinely believe you are an amazing person. I hope you find the kind of happiness that exists on your own terms. I hope you truly take ths time to figure out what moves you, what encourages your soul and what you deeply crave from life, and i hope you have the courage to chase that.

You bring out so much in me that I'm just beginning to see. It's like when we are together, the rest of the world disappears, and nothing else matters but us. I hope I feel this way forever. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you with everything I have to give. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve someone as loving as you are.

Do you know how long I have waited to have someone like you in my life?

 You are the reason why I smile. I remember when the first time we met. I saw you smiling with Hwall, I asked "who is this?" But ignoring it, then I came back to find out about you and I could smile again because of your beautiful smile!

But do you believe in fate? I actually have known you guys since the beginning of 2017, during Boy Era. How so? Well, I already finished watching Produce 101 and got my first love with Haknyeon and Jihoon. Hence, the first time I was being exposed to your stage and music was actually in 2017. I forgot about that and I didn’t even bother to look you up. But does it really matter? I’m here now.

After that I glanced at Hwall, and started to find out about The Boyz. I don't remember how I decided to like you. But you know? That a few years a lot of heavy things happened, I started to move away from music (this actually made me a little complicated) until the peak I didn't know what to do because of the loss of the person I liked. But 2022 begins, when I reopen your information and here I am now, liking you and only focusing on The Boyz only and I’m happy.

Thank you for not giving up after you debuted. You were probably very anxious and impatient with good results. I know that you wondered at that time, “Why aren’t we successful by now? We’ve worked so hard.” You were weary but I hope today’s success eases your past pain. With all the pain and tearful moments, you learned that all good things will come to those who wait and work hard. Thank you for being incredibly patient, though it ate you up. I can’t stop thanking the universe for letting the stars finally aligned for you guys.

Too many days go by without my saying how incredibly fortunate I feel to be with you--but it's true. HAHAHAHA Thank you for filling my days with love, and for making my toes squirm and my heart flutter. Thank you for always listening to Deobi (your fans) and staying beside The Boyz. Thank you for enriching every aspect of my life, and for continually inspiring me to do better and to be a better person.

(Aku buatin kamu kue, harusnya aku kirim ini ke Korea sekarang juga ya tapi aku sedih jet pribadi aku belum ada HAHAHA sunwoo jangan baca ini please.)

Changmin or my Beloved Q, when I try to describe your beauty, your smile, your kind heart, I find that my words only begin to scratch the surface of my love for you. You are too amazing, too much of a wonder for language to describe. When I know about you, and with each gesture you make, and each word that you utter, I realize, more and more, how special and caring you are, and how lucky I am to be with you.

How can I express my feelings when those feelings take my breath away?

No words can express these realities. No words can express my love for you because you are indescribable, and my love for you is immeasurable.

“Kau datang tak ku duga, beri aku tawa, bahagia hariku, kau buat sempurna.”

“Serasa kuingin katakan pada dunia, seberapa ku inginkanmu, temani hidupku yang dulu kelam, kau jadikan penuh makna.”

Kamu harus dengerin lagu Nyoman Paul, Changmin. Walaupun terdengar chessy dan lagu jatuh cinta banget TAPI kamu harus tau kalau lagu itu cocok sama vibes kamu! I really loved it.

Simply looking into your eyes sends me through a whirlwind of intense emotions. Just one brief smile from you fills my life with radiance and joy. Until the day I met you, I had never before felt so full of hope and passion. I want you to know, I am forever grateful to know you as Changmin, Q, and as The Boyz. You have given me a heart full of love and days full of laughter, and I will give myself to you always.

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I am writing to express my deepest admiration and love for you. You have been my inspiration, my role model, and my guiding light for as long as I can remember. Your talent, grace, and dedication have touched the hearts of millions, including mine. Your passion for your craft and unwavering commitment to excellence have always inspired me to strive for greatness in everything I do. I have watched you overcome challenges and hurdles with grace and humility, and your resilience has given me the strength to face my own obstacles with courage. 💗💗🚀

I was never asked who my idol is. I had an answer in my mind already but then I realized you were the true epitome of how one should lead life. How one can dream beyond the means, work hard and reach heights, which is unimaginable and achievable by only few stalwarts. So, now I have an answer. I will remember you when I spot the brightest star out there. You were, are and will live in our hearts forever. Thank you for everything you did. You will be extremely missed for who you were, for eternity. Thank you for staying beside The Boyz, Deobi, especially New! My beloved NewQ! 😭💗

Your kindness, generosity, and humility have shown me that true greatness lies not only in talent but also in character. You have used your platform to inspire positive change and make the world a better place, and for that, I am deeply grateful. I want to thank you for being the shining star that you are, and for being a source of hope and inspiration for so many. You have brought joy and meaning to my life, and for that, I will always be grateful. I will continue to support and admire you, not just as a fan, but as someone who deeply respects and loves you. Your impact on my life is immeasurable, and I will always cherish the memories of the joy and inspiration you have brought me. I hope to one day have the opportunity to express my admiration for you in person (Please boleh datang ke Jakarta lagi gak?) Until then, please know that you are loved, appreciated, and admired by so many, including me. So, After all! Happy Birthday my love in my life, Minnie!

With all my love and admiration,

Your love, Noirs.

[jamnotjam]

Liquid smooth

Dom!L.JH x f!reader

pt.2 pt.3

You always thought finding a lover at the club was a bad idea, until you see a beautiful man at a table with his friends, basking in the bright red lights

Rating: smut

Word count: 1800 and some change

Warnings: unsafe sex, creampie, slight fluff, dom!jihoon, petnames, face fucking, tummy bulge

Requested: yes

"Another one, please”

you say as you sit your glass down on the bar, you felt silly drinking non alcohol drinks while at the bar, especially because you were with friends that are probably blackout drunk at this point.

Its easier to make rational decisions if your consious while making them, anyways.

The bartender passes your drink to you, you slip him the money for the drink and go back to your table where your friends are sitting.

“Shes back! Finally”

your friend shouts, the smell of alcohol raditating off of her

“so i am” you say sarcastically

“hey hey, this guy has been watching you since you went to the bar”

your friend says as she grabs your shoulder and points at a man sitting at a table in the middle of the crowd.

You suddenly feel his eyes burning a hole in you. Hes beautiful, jet black hair with a undercut, plump red lips complimenting his porcelain skin, body sculpted by the gods

“hes…cute”

“go talk to him!”

Your friend says as she lightly pushes you off your chair

“well what if hes a creep!?”

“What if he isnt? Y/n you havent got laid in forever, just try, please?”

Your friend looks at you with puppydog eyes

“..fine” you say with a groan.

You sit your drink down and get up, you adjust your dress and gain your composure, as you walk towards him, you start noticing his friends around him, all of them drinking, while he was just drinking a coke zero, maybe he isn't much different from you.

one of his friends, one significantly taller, lightly nudges him towards you, he gives him a upset look for a second, before focusing back on you again.

When you get to him, you hold your hand out

“hey, wanna dance?”

He looks back at his friend

“if you dont, jihoon, i will” his friend says with a goofy smile. So the mystery mans name is jihoon, huh.

Jihoon gives you a nod before taking a drink of his drink and taking your hand, you go to the dance floor, the red light illuminating you two, making him look 10x hotter.

Just as a new song starts, you wrap your arms around his neck, his goes to your hips, your bodys sway along with the rhythm of the song, his eyes staring deep into yours, his hands grip on your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck, his hot breath hitting your soft spot, you moan lightly and grind yourself on him, you hear him groan, he pulls away and looks at you, lust pooling in his eyes, you flip around and grind your ass against him.

his grip on your hips never loosening, he leans down and whispers in your ear

“why dont we go somewhere more, private, doll?”

the first time hes talked and your already soaking, you nod and he grips your hand.

He leads you back to his table and picks up his car keys, a few of his friends cheering for him as you leave the club.

As soon as you get to his car, he pushes you against the side and smashes his lips against yours, his kiss sloppy and eager, his hands find place in your hair and yours on his sculpted back. He pulls away and pants

“you have no fucking idea how hot you looked in there”

he places a few sloppy kisses on your neck before opening the passenger door for you, you sit down and quickly fasten your seat belt, he gets in the driver seat and looks over at you

“your house, or mine?”

He eyes your body up and down, muttering a quiet ‘fuck’ when his eyes reach your tits

“yours”

he nods and starts driving, his hand grips your thigh, rubbing circles in the inner part, inching closer to your cunt.

You bite your lip and rub your thighs together, desperatly trying to to get some friction, he chuckles

“so desperate, doll, just abit longer”

he basically flings himself out the car once you reach his apartment building, he opens the car door for you and takes your hand once again, he leads you to the elevator, once your inside he presses the button, but its you this time who kisses.

You smash your lips against his, you wrap your arms around his body and he pushes you towards the wall, he slots his leg inbetween your thighs, his hands guiding your hips back and forth on his thigh, grinding you on it.

you moan into his mouth, he takes this as a chance to slip his tongue in your mouth, he explores your mouth with his tongue, memorzing every part.

You hear the elevator ding and he quickly pulls away, worried someone might come in, as soon as the doors open and the coast is clear, he pulls you out again, marching towars his apartment, you think he might pull your arm out of socket with how hard hes pulling you, he quickly unlocks the door, as soon as you get into the apartment, hes ripping his own clothes off, he gets his jacket and shoes off, before kissing you hard again.

he wraps his arms around you, his left hand on your back and right on your ass, he presses you againts the door, he lifts your hips up so that your legs wrap around his waist and starts carrying you to his room.

he sits you on the bed and steps back, unfastening his belt

“do you have a safe word?”

You pant and nod

“peach”

he nods and bites his plump lip, eyeing you up and down

“undress, now”

your breath hitches, you dont usually let men treat you like this, but somethings different about him, you feel yourself getting wetter at his words, you unzip your dress as he watches, once you slip your dress off he groans

“fuck, so hot, c’mere, on your knees”

you get on your knees infront of him, you look at his cock through his boxers, practically drolling over it

“get my cock out and suck, doll”

you pull his boxers down and his cock springs out

“can you fit it all in your mouth?”

he looks down at you with the cockiest expresson. You scoff and look back down at his cock, can i fit it all in? You licked a stripe over his cock, earning a low groan from him, you put the tip in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it, you look back up at jihoon, he looks even hotter in this position, muscles glistening with sweat, his head thrown back and his lip inbetween his teeth.

you slowly start deepthroating him, his hands go to your hair and grips it, he slowly starts rocking your head back and forth on his cock, low growls coming from his throat.

he starts going faster, tears forming in your eyes. When he feels like hes close to cumming he pulls your head off his cock by your hair, he picks you up and puts you back on the bed, instantly kissing you again.

he soothes the part of your head he was pulling on with his hand before he pulls away again. He kisses down your neck and to your chest, he hooks his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

He looks at your glistening cunt

“fuck, doll, already so wet for me?”

he gathers some of your slick on his finger before pushing it into your neglected hole, you moan, he pumps his finger in and out before rubbing your clit in slow circles, he pushes a second finger in, earning a louder moan from you.

he places soft kisses on your tits, before pulling his fingers out. He looks at the wetness on his digits before pushing them into your mouth.

he watches you lick your own juices off his fingers with a pleased expresson on his face.

“Are you ready for me, doll?”

He says, lubing up his cock with his Silvia and juice covered fingers, you nod, needing to feel him rearrange your guts

“use your words, baby”

he says and he rests his hands on your hips

“y-yes…please”

he chuckles “good girl”

he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in ‘fuck’ he mutters under hiis breath, he leans over your body, both hands gripping on your waist, he whispers in your ear

“gonna tear your tiny pussy up”

he pulls out of you compeletly before slamming back in. He does this again, and again, and again, until your basically sobbing with pleasure, he decides to stop torturing you and starts thrusting, in and out, fast.

Hitting that good spot each time

“fuck..so good”

he leans back to look at you and your fucked out state, he chuckles

“going crazy? Doll”

your eyes roll back so hard they might fall out

“m’..gonna cum”

you manage to mutter through moans

“dont cum unless i tell you”

his movements start getting sloppy, hes clearly getting close too. He looks down at your tummy and audibly groans, you look down too and see your tummy buldging with every thrust

“im so fucking deep in you, arent i?”

he speeds up his thrusts, soon enough, hes cumming deep in you, this throws you over the edge too, your cum mixing together on his cock. He pants and pulls out.

He sits on the bed and catches his breath before running to the bathroom to get a rag to clean you off, he wipes his cock off and carefully wipes you off, he pulls his boxers back on and gets a shirt off his closet

“put this on”

you slip the shirt on and he lays next to you

“hey, i didnt catch your name”

he rests his head next to yours and moves a strand of hair off your face

“its y/n”

“y/n, cute”

you nod “i guess”

“mines jihoon, but my friends call me woozi”

woozi? Woozi….where have you heard that?

“Woozi, cute”

he scoffs “im not cute”

you laugh

"suree“

he chuckles and throws a pillow at you

"im not!”

you guys laugh for a second

“hey…sorry if i was too rough, i can take you home if you want?”

“No, its okay”

you smile at him, he smiles

“okay”

you two snuggle up under the blanket, he kisses you on the cheek and you two drift off to sleep.

you wake to the smell of breakfast being made, you get up and slip your panties back on, only wearing a oversized tshirt and panties.

you leave the room and head towards the kitchen. thats when you see it

jihoon and 12 more men, crowded around the kitchen and living room. thats when it clicks.

woozi

from seventeen.

Request info

Masterlist

[yyxgin]

could u please do svt in a long distance relationship headcanon?? tysm and have a lovely day

heyyy im not really good at this headcanon thing tbh so i hope i did your request justice with this :p have a lovely day and thanks for the ask!

seungcheol - i'm a strong believer that gift giving is one of cheol's primary love languages so i can only imagine him sending you gifts,, like some pretty jewelry or even send you flowers with little notes in them whenever he feels like it!! never forgets an anniversary and always makes sure to visit you on the special day:)

jeonghan - travels to meet you so often you are worried for his health because of how jet lagged he gets. he insists that nothing beats quality time together though, so he doesn't really care. keeps cuddling you when he's around, you can barely move. tells you that it's because he wants to imprint you into his muscle memory so he can feel you in his arms even when he's away.

joshua - sends you covers of your favorite songs or just songs that remind him of you in voice memos. also, he's big on voice memos because it's just easier to talk than to type. loves hearing your voice so he only imagines you do as well. always cheers you up on bad days and just rambles about whatever when he's bored

junhui - double texts you all the time and always sends a long train of messages whenever he tells you a story. replies in memes only. whenever you post on instagram, his comments are peak comedy. somehow always facetimes you when he's sitting on the toilet or rushing somewhere.

soonyoung - randomly calls you in the middle of the night because he forgets about timezones and when he realises its 3am where you live, he gets very apologetic and feels so bad he hangs up and you have to call him back

wonwoo - truth is you two probably met through gaming,, like in league of legends or on a minecraft server lmao. you two call on discord a lot and he buys you nitro from time to time. if youre on a call w your other internet friends they keep complaining abt how sweet the two of you are towards each other. leaves u little notes in your minecraft house or drops a diamond sword in one of your chests >:(

jihoon - writes songs about you and sends you the drafts. jokes and tells you not to leak them. also im a strong believer that he organizes holidays for the two of you whenever you both have free time and insists on getting matching "i ❤ [city]" shirts wherever you two go. the collection of silly shirts reminds him of you. also i know he's a tsundere but i think he gives you a promise ring so you can remember his promise that one day, you'll live together and the distance will no longer be a worry :)

seokmin - sends you letters all the time because he's just romantic like that. i would even go as far as saying he keeps a locket with your picture on him and looks at it when he misses you. sends you postcards from every place he visits and brings you small souveniers or gifts from everywhere.

mingyu - uses snapchat more than anything. documents his whole day for you and also sends a few 'sexy' selfies u shamelessly screenshot. keeps whining about missing you and constantly asks you when he's gonna see you again.

minghao - definitely owns the touch lamps that change colors whenever the other person touches it. sometimes you two go back and forth and challenge each other on who will tap it the last. also, whenever the two of you meet, you go hiking, so you can relax from the technology you two use daily to communicate

seungkwan - whenever you complain about someone that made you mad, he keeps telling you that he's gonna fight them despite living thousand miles away. or when you're sad he tells you he's gonna kidnap you so you two can be together and he can cuddle you all the time

vernon - he's so terrible at texting that you two almost exclusively call. sometimes he falls asleep during the call, but that's okay. when you face time, you have to beg him to turn the light on so you can see his face. sends you spotify links to songs he likes and associates with you. also i lowkey feel like whenever you two meet, he keeps posting insta stories with you to brag.

chan - downloads one of these couple apps where you send each other little doodles or notes! compliments you on them all the time even though they literally suck. also,, has that app where it counts the days, minutes and seconds you two have been in a relationship and posts it on his story on your anniversary

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 14: Disrespectful

Chapter Word Count: 4,646

Anything in Bold Italics are Korean/Another language.

Master List | Prev | Next

The flight from Jakarta was long and grueling. Everyone was tired, staff included, and Jihoon’s exhaustion was bleeding over from the last two days. You were home for just over a week before everyone would fly out to Thailand. You had work, the group had practice, and it was weighing a little on your mental health. 

While you had traveled here and there for work once and a while, it wasn’t to the taxing extent of traveling with Seventeen. There were many rules everyone needed to follow – luckily, that wasn’t the problem –, you had to be careful with fans so you hovered around security personnel on the ground, but the most taxing was always being on the go. Though New York was a fast paced place, the momentum in which Seventeen and their staff moved was mind boggling. 

They were always busy. Between makeup and hair, they were vlogging, signing things, recording Tik Toks, and already working on or discussing what was coming next. You had heard a few murmurs of Caratland ideas, a new album, even whispers of Vernon working on his solo release. There was so much going on that you didn’t know how to mentally handle it all when Jihoon was telling you things, Seokmin and Mingyu were excited, and Seungkwan was trying to help you understand (thank god). 

Jamie and Kazuki were there for you but it was getting harder to talk with them on the phone with the time zone change. Mimi and Papa always called you at the perfect times since they were up early, however they didn’t really understand the degree in which stuff was bothering you.

It was only the second day back in Seoul when Jihoon shuffled into your apartment mid-afternoon (you gave him the code over text because you were too comfortably curled up in the corner of the couch). He had been feeling uneasy all morning. When you tried to text him if he was okay, all he replied back was that he’d be over in a couple hours and you could talk about it. 

“Hi.” You peaked out from your bundle of blankets, only doom scrolling on your phone since you finished your work for the day. 

“Hey.” He said in English, near tossing himself down on the couch, head resting against some of the blankets at your feet. 

“ You okay?” 

Jihoon sighed, pulling the hat he wore over his face and groaning. “ You are gonna hate it.” 

“What- What am I going to hate?” 

“My parents are coming into town tomorrow to meet you.” 

Yeah…yeah you were going to hate that. 

Jihoon removed his hat to look up at you, watching the once relaxed look on your face turn into something closer to stressed out. Quickly he sat up and scrunched his nose up in distaste as he faced you, sighing heavily. “ I’m sorry. My mom called me this morning and said they already have a hotel booked not that far from here and wanted to meet you, more specifically her.” 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, hiding your slightly trembling hands in the blanket around you. The uneasiness Jihoon had been feeling since earlier was still there but now he was worried and a little irritated. By the look on his face, he was able to feel the stress and dread that was growing in the pit of your stomach. 

“ Ruby-ah, it will be okay.” He reached out, placing his hand on your cheek and letting his thumb run over your skin, the buzzing of the bond trying to calm you. “ They just want to meet you.” 

“I’m meeting you parents, ‘Hoon-ah, they aren’t just normal people.” You frowned, unwrapping the cocoon you created to let him in, bundling the two of you back up. He shifted to better hold you now, bringing your head towards his shoulder and letting his arms wrap around you. Gently he placed his chin on the top of your head. 

“ I know, but I’m sure they will like you. If it helps, I’m terrified to meet your grandparents.” The small rumble of laughter he tried to push out had his shoulders shaking. “ And they are the ones that will have jet lag.” 

“ Do we have to meet them…?” 

He snorted, “ Mom would be knocking on everyone’s door and trying to contact my manager if we try to hide.” 

“Mama Bear.” 

That had both of you laughing quietly. You leaned further into Jihoon’s embrace, listening to the calm, rhythmic beating of his heart. 

“ I’m sure they will like you, Ruby-ah.” 

Jihoon was out of your apartment early the next morning, saying he wanted to hit the gym and shower before you were to meet up with his parents at noon. You could feel he was nervous but there was an unspoken agreement that it was nerve wracking for the both of you. He was still calm under the jittery feeling, working out probably was a good idea if it helped diminish his worries. 

For yourself, you did what you did best. You cleaned your apartment up despite them not even coming to your place, reviewed any paperwork needing to be handled for work, and took a shower to get yourself ready. Best impressions were in order so you put on a nice pair of slacks and a not too oversized t-shirt. You styled your hair to look more presentable and shuffled about the apartment to gather anything you need. 

When you sit down for the first time in a couple hours, you don’t know what to do. Everything was clean, you were ready to head out, nothing needed to be done. Your leg started to bounce with jittery energy, drumming your fingers against the top of your thighs. A check of the time on your phone had you still an hour away until you were to meet at a restaurant his mother wanted to visit. 

The buzz under your skin of Jihoon getting close had you springing up and hurrying to the door. Before he got a chance to tap in the keycode, you were already opening the door for him. His eyes were wide as his hand hovering where the keypad was and he looked at you with confusion. Then his expression shifted into sympathy, stepping in and closing the door. 

“ Ruby-ah, everything will be okay.” He placed both hands on your arms, “ Everything will be fine, nothing to worry about.” 

His reassurance was needed but it didn’t reach every nervous crevice of your mind. There were so many worst case scenarios racing through your head. 

“But what if they hate me?” You groaned, turning and stomping towards the couch and face planted, words coming out muffled now. “ They are going to hate me.” 

“Now you are being dramatic.” You could hear his footsteps getting closer before he sat beside your head, patting your back. “ They aren’t going to hate you.” 

That’s how you found yourself sitting beside Jihoon, waiting for his parents, at a popular Korean restaurant. Even with you holding Jihoon’s hand under the table, your heart was beating out of your chest. At his suggestion, you both went and arrived early to secure a more secluded table but the silence that followed after only heightened the uneasiness passing back and forth between the bond. You were glad you weren’t the only one feeling tense. 

Jihoon flinched and released your hand, moving to stand. Quickly you followed, straightening your shirt, following his line of sight to come face to face with his parents. To say he looked like his parents was an understatement. His father greeted you both with a smile, pulling his son close for a hug, patting him on the back. Her mother seemed much more subdued, her smile small, not fully reaching her eyes as she hugged Jihoon. 

When they turned to you, you gave a proper, deeper bow, greeting them formally in Korean, stating your name and taking a few moments pause before standing straight. His father was smiling at you but his mother…she was analyzing you. The smile was gone from her face and her eyes roamed your person, taking in everything and anything she could about you. 

“ It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N-ah.” Mr. Lee reached out and you shook his hand with both of your own. 

Mrs. Lee…she was still quiet and it was unsettling. 

“ It’s an honor to meet the both of you. I apologize that we couldn’t get together sooner between the tour schedule.” You gave them another bow, still deep but not like the previous one. With a small motion of your hand, you gestured towards the empty seats for them. “ Please sit, I’m sure the trip here was long.” 

You and Jihoon stayed standing until both of his parents sat down. When you did sit, you tried your hardest not to let your leg bounce or fidget with anything. Jihoon, thankfully, told them to order whatever they’d like, and a period of quiet fell over the table. Both his mother and father didn’t hesitate to get different dishes once the waitress arrived. 

“ How has the tour been, Jihoon-ah?” 

Jihoon cleared his throat at his father’s question, puffing his cheeks and tilted his head as he thought. “ It’s going well. It’s just tiring with all the traveling and little rest, but it’s overall satisfactory. ” 

“ Has it been hard on you, Y/N-ah?” 

You blinked at him but shook your head slightly. “ Aside from all the traveling, it hasn’t been too rough on me, but I do try my best between the schedules to help Jihoon-ah the best I can.” You wanted to say more but you didn’t know how much you probably should talk… 

His father nodded along. “I’m sure he doesn’t make it easy, knowing my son.” 

Jihoon bulked at that a bit, huffing. “ What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You are difficult.” His father shot back, still smiling, which had you covering your mouth to laugh. 

“ No- Jihoon-ah has been fine, I mainly make sure he is eating and sleeping enough. Despite my efforts to stop him, he has been helping me a lot.” You glanced beside you and Jihoon was trying to suppress a smirk, sitting back in his chair. Looking back at his parents, you smile. “ You’ve both raised a very caring man.” 

“ What do you do for work?” His mother spoke up, her hands folded neatly on the table, raising a brow at you. 

“Oh- I do translation and international communication between my head company in America and Korea, however I also work with Japan and, occasionally, Spain.” The explanation was a little forced under her watchful eyes. “ When I was back in America, I would go into the office, but I work remotely so I can travel with Jihoon and the group.”

“Did you go to college?” 

“Yes, Ma’am. I acquired my Masters in Business Administration and International Relations. I’m hoping to move up the managerial chain of the office we have here in Seoul the longer I work here.” 

She didn’t look impressed, not that you were trying to impress her, but you were hoping she’d like that you weren’t just using Jihoon for money or anything. That was the last time you wanted from this…relationship thing you have going on. 

The waitress had returned in time to give the table a breather, placing down dish after dish with another member of staff until the table was full. Thanking them once they were finished, you and Jihoon waited until his parents took food before grabbing any for yourself. In relative silence, the four of you ate, not knowing what to ask, what to say, nothing like that. You felt completely out of your element. 

“ I’m curious, Y/N-ah,” Mrs. Lee didn’t look up from the food in front of her. “ What can you contribute to my son’s life that makes you believe you can be something outside of a soulmate?” 

Jihoon stilled and you stopped chewing. 

“ Mom-” 

“Dear-” 

“What can you contribute to my son’s life?” She repeated and lifted her head, meeting your trembling eyes. 

“ I- ” You didn’t break the gaze between you, taking in a deep breath to calm your anxiety. “ I’d like to believe that the relationship Jihoon-ah and I have can be meaningful.” 

“I didn’t ask if your relationship can be meaningful,” Mrs. Lee placed her chopsticks down and once more folded her hands neatly. “ To be frank, you don’t seem fit to help him succeed.” 

“Fit to-” You were thrown off, furrowing your brow in confusion. Your heart was in your throat and you wanted to escape but knew you couldn’t.  

“ You seem…immature. I can’t see you contributing more to Jihoon’s life than providing the necessary things for a soulmate to live.” 

There was anger starting to rise within you. The confusion you wore easier flattened into a stony expression. Jihoon whipped his head to look at you then towards his mom. 

“ That’s enough.” Jihoon spoke up but his mother was staring you down. 

“ Lee-nim,” You kept your anger at bay, keeping your tone even. “ I don’t appreciate you assuming things about who I am based on this first meeting.”

The air surrounding you was so thick you could cut through it with a knife. Both Jihoon and his father were stunned silent, neither sure of what to do at the moment. The staring contest between you and his mother was deadly. 

“ I wonder what type of people raised you seeing as your parents didn’t raise you with any respect for your elders.” 

Your heart stopped. All the anger that once built up within was heightened. Around you, things moved in slow motion. Jihoon raised his voice but everything was muffled as if cotton was shoved in your ears. 

“Whether you like it or not, I’m Jihoon’s soulmate. I’ve worked my ass off to get to where I am by myself and I won’t let you determine the type of person I am or how I can help him succeed in life when he has already done so much for himself. You speak about respect for elders but my grandparents taught me to only respect those who show me respect and currently I see none.” You stood from your seat, three sets of eyes staring at you in shock. “ Now if you will excuse me, I will not let myself be disrespected by someone who doesn’t even know me, nor seem willing to get to know me. Enjoy your time with Jihoon. I’m no longer hungry. I’m done.” 

You took your card out of your wallet and handed it to Jihoon before giving a curt bow to his mother and father. 

“ Ruby-ah-” Jihoon looked panicked and you felt the alarm flow between you. 

“It’s fine. Enjoy the food.” 

And with slow, heavy steps, you left the building and walked aimlessly through the busy city streets. 

He was…He didn’t even know how he felt. 

Watching as they left the restaurant, the outrage they felt, it was surreal. 

Never had he imagined that his mother would treat someone so harshly, let alone with such little respect. She was usually composed and kind but now she was down right nasty. 

“ What is wrong with you?” He bulked in disbelief, furrowing his brow. “ What the hell is wrong with you?” 

His mother scoffed and frowned at him. “ What is wrong with me? What is wrong with them!? Disrespectful and immature are an understatement of what they are!” 

“The only person here that is disrespectful is you! You just met them and you are telling them that they can’t be more than my soulmate? Someone that is keeping me alive?” Now he was getting angry. 

“ They aren’t. They will hold you back every step of the way.” Her words were frigid. 

“Hold me back- Mom, you don’t know them!” 

“Clearly I don’t have to, Jihoon-ah.” 

“ Enough. Both of you.” His father placed his hand firmly on the table, causing both his mother and him to shut their mouths. He turned his direction to his wife, “ I’m disappointed in you. You didn’t give them a single chance. You judged them based on whatever you read online from horrible fans.” 

His mother scoffed once more. “ Unlike you, I’m trying to watch out for our son and make sure his future will hold success.” 

Jihoon let out a groan of frustration. “ I’m not a child anymore! I’m twenty-six this year! I don’t need you vetting my soulmate when fate has already picked them!”

“Just because they are your soulmate, doesn’t mean they are perfect for you, Jihoon-ah-” 

“They are perfect.” Jihoon stood, exasperated and annoyed. He couldn’t believe that he was hearing. “ Ruby-ah is perfect to me and that’s all that matters.” 

He held his mother’s gaze, eyes narrowed in a pointed glare. She raised her chin higher, probably thinking she was right. He hated when she let her pride get the better of her. 

“ Think what you want, Jihoon-ah. I’m disappointed fate picked an ill-fit person to be tied to you for the rest of your life.” 

“ The only disappointment here is you for being a judgemental and hateful person. You raised me better than that.” 

She gasped, he didn’t know what brought him to even think those words, let alone say them, but in that moment, he meant it. 

“ Jihoon-ah.” His father started sternly but Jihoon shook his head. 

“ No, dad. The disrespect she showed Ruby-ah was too far. Neither of you raised me like that.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills, placing them on the table in front of his father. “ This should cover everything. Only call me when mom is ready to apologize.” 

Jihoon grabbed his jacket and walked out the door, looking either way down the street, trying to figure out which way they went. Ruby didn’t know the city well and he didn’t know if they were heading home- 

Pulling his phone out, he quickly called them, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the dorms. The blaring ringing went on once, twice, and he continued down the street, picking up his pace. 

“Come on-” He muttered in English when the call went to voicemail after a few moments. He hung up and sent a text message, hoping to get any sort of response. 

Waiting at a crosswalk, Jihoon bounced on his feet, still feeling their anger, but it was calmer than what they felt earlier. To his current displeasure, there were a few people – who he assumed were fans – taking pictures of him on their phones. He pulled a mask from his jacket pocket and slid it on, keeping his head down. While Carats were part of his love for his career, right now he wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at. 

When the street was clear to cross, a text came in and he was bolting down the street in the opposite direction. Ruby had sent a message of their location in the other direction along the Han River. Though he didn’t get out much, he at least knew the basis from all the years of living in the city. 

As he neared the approximate location, the hum that coursed under his skin was comforting. The subconscious pull led him directly to where they sat under a tree, staring out on the still green grass and the flowing water of the river. 

“I blew it.” They said, not looking up as he slid to a squat beside them. “ I’m sorry.” 

“ Why are you sorry? My mom was rude and judgemental.” He shifted to sit, letting his legs splat out on the grass and leaned back on his hands. “ It was uncalled for.” 

It was music to his ears hearing Ruby snort and try to cover up their laugh. “ She is still your mom, Jihoon-ah.” 

“And moms can be overbearing and unaccepting of their kids growing up. I’m sure your grandmother can relate to that.” 

“Yeah. I guess she can…” Ruby sighed, running a hand through their hair before laughing under their breath. “ When I was in my first semester of college, Mimi drove all the way from upstate New York to the city to see me every month. She kept saying that she needed someone to take care of outside of Papa. It took her a while to realize that I was an adult after that.” 

“I’m sorry about what she said about your parents.” 

“ You don’t need to apologize for her, she can do that for herself if she throws her pride aside.” Their voice was laced with a hint of anger, that same feeling was still in the bond. 

“ Say what’s on your mind before I have to deal with you sulking for hours on end.” Jihoon rolled his eyes. 

Ruby huffed, criss-crossing their legs and crossing their arms. “ I know she is your mom and all, but who does she think she is judging me!? I’m not here for your money, I’m not here to use you in any way, and I’m definitely better than some of the people in this world for who your soulmate could have been.” 

He snorted but said nothing, letting them continue. “And learning a shit ton of languages is hard! It came earlier to me than math. Let alone getting my Masters in a double major. And asking me what I contribute to your life? Are we still in the fifties? No offense but you don’t know how to really cook! She should be happy I’m feeding you whenever you come over! And I make you sleep at a reasonable time!” 

That had him bursting out in laughter, face scrunching up and shoulders shaking. They weren’t wrong. Even in just a month, Ruby has been helpful in the caring for himself aspect of everything. And…And Ruby can cook pretty well so he wasn’t going to complain. 

“ I’m serious! She doesn’t know me, she assumes that because I’m ' disrespectful' and 'immature' that I’m not a responsible person. I pay bills, I work a full time job, and I have to deal with you and all of Seventeen! Especially ‘97 line, maybe minus Minghao-ah because they are up my ass!” 

“They will never leave you alone. You’ve signed the figurative contract and now Mingyu-ah and Seokminie will forever be your problem.” He gasped for air, watching them throw their arms up in defeat. 

Ruby pouted, rolling their head back and to the side to look at him. Jihoon easily looked back, but saw their eyes looking over his shoulder. 

“ Are they recording us?” He asked and they nodded. He wasn’t surprised fans followed him or noticed him in general. “ Come on.” 

Lazily he stood, holding his hand out to help them up and patted off their back. Jihoon slid his hand properly into Ruby’s, pulling out his phone to order a taxi. Ruby stepped close, seemingly hiding him the best they could. The fans did keep their distance, but the chorus of loud whispers and phones being held up to videos or pictures were making Ruby uncomfortable, he could feel it. He turned his back to the fans that looked upon them, facing his soulmate and waited for the notification that the car he ordered arrived. 

“ Are we going home?” They whispered, keeping their head down. 

“ Yeah, I’m gonna get us home.” 

“ ...I’m never going to get used to that.” 

“Do you see why I’m a homebody?” He followed their hushed voice, pouting his lips as he looked down at his phone. “ Sleep, exercise, work, sleep, that is my life.” 

Ruby snorted and a small smile spread on their face, “Don’t remind me, loser.” He only rolled his eyes, running his thumb over their knuckles as a small distraction.

Without too long of a wait, the taxi came and Jihoon pulled Ruby along towards the road, matching the car’s plate to the app, and opened the door for them to get in. The ride back to the doors wasn’t long and Jihoon was already receiving messages from Seungcheol asking ‘ why Carats are posting about him and Ruby on twitter when they were supposed to be at lunch with his parents?’ 

“ Wah, he really does work fast.” Ruby leaned against his side, looking down at his phone to better see Cheol’s texts. “ It’s kinda terrifying.”

“ Well, your name has been added to his roster of ‘people I can look up on twitter now when I’m bored’. Congratulations.” 

“I will never know peace between knowing all of you.” 

“Welcome to my life.” 

“No no!” Mingyu whined, throwing himself helplessly to the floor across from you. “ Tell us what happened!” 

“Yeah!” Seokmin tossed a crumpled up napkin at you which you dodged. “ We’ve met Jihoon-hyung’s mom, she wasn’t mean to us.” 

“You aren’t his soulmate.” Minghao pointed out, taking another bite of his takeout. “Ruby-ah isn’t a normal person in the eyes of a mother.” 

“ For example, Jihoonie’s mom loves me.” Soonyoung spoke up and everyone told him to shut up which caused him to pout. “ Mean…”  

“ I’ve never heard her so critical before.” Jihoon spoke up, pushing his food around with his chopsticks. “ She wasn’t even this bad when I told her I was going to be a trainee.” 

“Ruby-ah~ Tell us~” Seokmin said in a sing-song tone, using one of his chopsticks as if it was a wand, pointing it at you and twirling it happily. 

“She like-” You puffed out air, fidgeting side to side as you thought. “ She first asked about my education and my job so I explained all that. Then she asked me something about how I can 'contribute more to his life than just being his soulmate'. Then she called me disrespectful and immature and this mother f-” 

You stopped yourself, getting angry, similar to how you were earlier. “ Sorry, didn’t mean for that to slip…Then she brought up my parents not teaching me respect.” 

The air surrounding the group of you tensed and you sighed. They all knew vaguely (except for Jihoon who got to hear the whole story) of your family with how much time you’ve spent with them. You shrugged, shoveling some food into your mouth, not wanting to get too heated as of now.

“ Sorry Jihoonie, but your mom was a bitch.” Soonyoung said it so casually that you nearly choked on your food. 

“Thank god someone said it.” You threw your head back in laughter, falling over onto Jihoon who was trying not to laugh at it while Soonyoung smirked to himself. The rest of 97 line was in different extents of laughter, Mingyu on the floor and Minghao giggling with shaking shoulders. “I was going to say…Mother fucker but that would have been mean.” 

That made them roar up again and Jihoon followed by throwing his head back, face scrunched up in a wide smile. Seokmin and Mingyu were laying on their backs on the floor, Soonyoung was keeled over on the couch, holding his stomach as he gasped for air. Minghao sat beside you with his back to the couch, shoulders raised and curling in on himself as he laughed. 

You were glad you became friends with Seventeen. They were just the company you needed to deal with this. It was nice to have them as friends when Jamie and Kazuki were halfway around the world.

[minteagalaxea]

behavioral analysis unit | s.v.t

as one of the departments of the federal bureau of investigation, the members analyze behaviors to aid in criminal investigations. they have apprehended many serious threats such as serial killers, violent kidnappers, and terrorists.

lee jihoon: special agent in charge

as the head of the bau, ssa lee jihoon’s vast knowledge in law makes him an agent to fear among authorities and unknown subjects alike, resulting him being in the forefront of negotiations and interrogating particularly reluctant or aggressive criminals. 

outside of work, jihoon enjoys planting succulents, claiming that they’re easier to care for given the constant traveling his work subjects him to, a secret that the rest of the team must take to the grave with them, especially the bit where they know jihoon sings to his plants to try to encourage them to grow a bit taller or be more green.

jeon wonwoo: second in command

the bau’s best shot and for waging psychological warfare against slippery criminals during interrogation, ssa jeon wonwoo is particularly good with words, knowing how to easily get to criminals in the interrogation room, though he’s often utilized as a last resort to interrogate and the first resort to apprehend them.

the team also must take the secret of wonwoo’s favorite plush being on the jet to the grave, but are more fond of divulging his penchant for dominating smash bros at group settings and using animal crossing as a decompressing mechanism for the violence of the job.

boo seungkwan: communications liaison

ssa boo seungkwan’s more personable nature and ability to translate complicated bau terminology to simple language makes him the person in charge of fielding and handling calls from civilians (he was particularly irritated following an incident where wonwoo and jihoon received public adulation for their looks when they took over his station when he was sick).

in his downtime, seungkwan enjoys baking, always making sure to treat himself as well as the team to some sweets, or organize some board games for them to play while on the plane that isn’t always cluedo or some investigative game.

chwe hansol: technical analyst

arguably the heart of the bau, ssa chwe hansol’s office is a safe haven for the most part, filled with paraphernalia that kept the place upbeat in the midst of receiving footage of heinous crimes on his computer screens (which he’ll happily boast about having set up and engineered), providing a consistent stream of information as he digs up info on criminals in question.

hansol’s office is also the home for many movie nights the team has, taking advantage of the large screens and the constant amount of candy he has in the drawers that he does not actually eat, though he’ll occasionally partake in group outings for billiards.

[here4kpopfics]

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