#modern au shizz

[godgiftcd-blog]

munday have passed but i drew modern jean w/ Old Man, his dog, and also him in army clothing <3

[ktheist]

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced  first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

x

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

x

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

x

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been  proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

x

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left,  boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

x

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school,  taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

x

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Hi there! Is it okay to request a matchup? ( this is the same trashy anon who got that super cute Soliel matchup, and by the way my heart melted- i don’t know if I’m allowed to ask for another match up and shizz but I thought id ask for another one with more info anyways- ) I’m a bisexual female, I’m 5’0 and a bit slender I’m a huge nerd when it comes to video games or anime, I like to doodle a lot when I’m bored and I’m always sleepy like ALWAYS, I also make a bunch of puns

I don’t have many match up requests currently so its no problem! And I’m glad you liked it uwu

I’m pairing you with Dwyer this time around!

He’s so tall? He’s probably a whole foot taller than you, how cute? He likes to tease you about it, but it all comes from a place of love, I promise. In a modern au, I could see him being the same kind of anime nerd– not that he would ever dare say it first– but he enjoys it.

Did someone say naps? Half the time the two of your bond by napping together. Tucked away, warm and cozy how sweet~ He actually enjoy your puns, but he acts annoyed at them, that is before making a pun himself!

[prfm-uk]

Get to Know Me Uncomfortably Well (Filled Out)

@southeastasyano wanted me to completely fill out these 100 questions and a bonus one, and an anonymous asker wanted me to answer just a few. So here ya go! Go on and stalk me, young ones.

For the questions below the cut, I tag: @southeastasyano, @fukigen-na-boy, @prfm-au, @prfm-us, @housekinoame, @cosmog-explorer, @jenmarii, @chrism-sol, @p-r-f-m, @securitylucy, @a-chan-san and @jeffhardys!

What is your middle name? I never use it on my passports or regularly, but I do have a middle name. But I don’t wanna say it >///<

How old are you? I am currently 17 years old!

When is your birthday? June 24th!

What is your zodiac sign? Cancer (yes, I’m that mentally unstable b*tch)

What is your favorite color? Green all the f*cking way!!

What’s your lucky number? 3

Do you have any pets? I had two fish, but they died when I was 11 :’(

Where are you from? While I was born in London, United Kingdom, my family originates from Sri Lanka

How tall are you? I am 6 foot 1 inch.

What shoe size are you? I am only UK size 7.

How many pairs of shoes do you own? I own only five pairs of shoes.

What was your last dream about? It was a dream in which my best friend committed suicide... Yeah, it was grim, and was more of a nightmare :(

What talents do you have? I am pretty good when it comes to learning foreign languages, and I play piano maybe kinda semi-decently well? I can also do that thing where I can show the red bit inside my eyes, and I can fit my whole fist in my mouth.

Are you psychic in any way? Ask @prfm-us

Favourite song? ‘New Americana’ by Halsey or ‘I Know Places’ by Taylor Swift or ‘Warm Blood’ by Carly Rae Jepsen...

Favourite movie? It would have to be ‘The Emoji Movie’

Who would be your ideal partner? James Wright <3 Well, he is my bf so, um, yay?

Do you want children? Yup, I’d love to see my kid go through life and me be like “ha, I remember when I went through that shizz”

Do you want a church wedding? Well, I’m a Buddhist and I don’t know how they do weddings, so I guess I’d be fine with a civil ceremony of sorts..?

Are you religious? Not at all, and I’m not really sad about it either.

Have you ever been to the hospital? So many f*cking times, honestly. Some weren’t as bad, whereas there is one in particular that will always be my worst ever day alive.

Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Nope, I’m pretty submissive with the law, I’m too scared of punishment haha

Have you ever met any celebrities? When I was in primary school, I was chosen to go meet the Queen and that was pretty cool. We gave her like this bouquet of flowers and she didn’t seem very appreciative. (Just kidding, I love you, Lizzie)

Baths or showers? I prefer baths, but I always have showers because otherwise I might never come out.

What colour socks are you wearing? I’m wearing black socks which say “Thursday” in green font. And yes, it is Thursday where I am, my OCD is too much.

Have you ever been famous? Well, Kyary tweeted my video once and I f*cking YELLED, but no, I’m pretty irrelevant!

Would you like to be a big celebrity? No haha, I wouldn’t be able to handle that much attention to be honest.

What type of music do you like? Electropop, I guess is what it is. I also like modern 80s pop (does that make sense) and also EDM.

Have you ever been skinny dipping? No, haha, I think that just isn’t a very common thing in Britain.

How many pillows do you sleep with? Just one, under my head.

What position do you usually sleep in? I sleep like a fetus does in the womb. Enjoy that mental image.

How big is your house? 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms. Not amazing, but my family is somewhat well-off.

What do you typically have for breakfast? Basic cereal, generally.

Have you ever fired a gun? Yup, I spent a short while in my school’s combined cadet force before deciding that it wasn’t for me.

Have you ever tried archery? No, I think I have terrible hand-eye co-ordination anyway haha

Favorite clean word? If you mean normal, random word, then my favourite is kumquat.

Favorite swear word? My favourite swear word on it’s own is c*nt because I love how it rolls off the tongue, it just sounds like pure spite. In an insult, definitely f*cknut or f*cktard is a common resort for me.

What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 4 days, powered by a coffee each day. And I wasn’t even tired, people basically forced me to have coffee.

Do you have any scars? I have one on my leg from a surgery where they put a metal screw in my hip to make sure that it grew straight (well I didn’t turn out straight, but my leg did). Also, I still have a few old ones on my thighs and wrists...

Have you ever had a secret admirer? Ahahahahahaha, as if anyone would go to that effort over someone like me.

Are you a good liar? If I do say so myself, yes, I am. Or was I lying there?!?!?!?!

Are you a good judge of character? Ask @prfm-us

Can you do any other accents other than your own? I can do an LA valley accent..?

Do you have a strong accent? I have a strong British accent, and then I have a semi-strong Essex accent layered on top, so words like “fam” and “lit” just sneak their way into my speech.

What is your favourite accent? Canadian and Australian are my favs!!

What is your personality type? Unstable, but caring..? <3

What is your most expensive piece of clothing? I have a £45 tie that someone gave me as a bday gift. Yes, I don’t get spending tons on clothes...

Can you curl your tongue? I can do it into a U shape and that weird W shape thingy.

Are you an innie or an outie? Innie. Is this really helpful information to you?

Left or right handed? Right handed!

Are you scared of spiders? DON’T GET ME STARTED. I get terrified of the world’s smalliest spiders and I will legit scream and chuck my phone across the room and everyone else will just be confused.

Favorite food? Profiteroles..?

Favorite foreign food? Um, maybe, poutine? Tim Horton’s? Basically I love Canada.

Are you a clean or messy person? Clean, always clean. I cannot function in a messy environment.

Most used phrase? “I put the SAD in Social Anxiety Disorder”. Yes, I am too real sometimes.

Most used word? Well, it’s probably “the”, “a” or “lopsided”

How long does it take for you to get ready? Literally around ten minutes.

Do you have much of an ego? I mean, I don’t have a shred of self-confidence, so no..?

Do you suck or bite lollipops? I don’t know what this shows about my gay self, but I suck... yeah.

Do you talk to yourself? When I’m intensely lonely or need to calm myself down.

Do you sing to yourself? All the time. I cannot listen to any music without dancing and/or singing to it.

Are you a good singer? Hell no!

Biggest fear? Losing those who are closest to me. Oh, and f*cking spiders.

Are you a gossip? Nope, I guess i’m just not in that circle.

Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? I can’t name the best I’ve ever watched, but I recently watched a British-made film called “I, Daniel Blake” and I really liked it.

Do you like long or short hair? Short hair.

Can you name all 50 states of America? No, I’m British.

Favourite school subject? German or Physics!

Extrovert or Introvert? Introvert 100%

Have you ever been scuba diving? Yup, I’ve been in Sri Lanka

What makes you nervous? The dark and silence.

Are you scared of the dark? Oh, I just accidentally answered that. Yes, I am.

Do you correct people when they make mistakes? Only when it’s appropriate, I don’t want to bother people!

Are you ticklish? VERY ticklish! If you touch my neck, I’ll be on the floor in a few seconds.

Have you ever started a rumour? No haha I’d get baited out so quickly.

Have you ever been in a position of authority? I was an editor for my school newspaper? I mean, it wasn’t that thrilling at all

Have you ever drank underage? In the UK, the legal drinking age is 18, I’m 17, and although I’ve never gotten hammered or drunk vodka and stuff like that, I have had very light alcohol for the taste!

Have you ever done drugs? God no, and I intend never to!

Who was your first real crush? Ugh, it seems so immature when I see it now, but there was this cute guy called Josh in my class who kept paying so much attention to me, so I asked him out, and he was like “How’d you know I was gay? Oh, and I’m not interested”. Yeah, I cried that night haha

How many piercings do you have? None!

Can you roll your ‘R’s? I can <3

How fast can you type? Around 75 words-per-minute (I used an online typing test just now!)

How fast can you run? I think I run pretty slow! In school, I was just average, in the middle, but I’m not going to be winning any fun-runs :P

What colour is your hair? Jet black, but any other colour would look out out place on my brown skin :D

What colour are your eyes? A relatively dark brown, but they are still visibly brown in the sun.

What are you allergic to? Nothing, as far as I know :)

Do you keep a journal? I keep a kinda mood tracking thingamajig through an app called ‘Pacifica’. It’s great for anyone tackling stress or any mental disorders such as depression, anxiety, bipolar, etc. But other than that, I don’t keep a journal as such, no.

What do your parents do? My father is a physiotherapist, and my mother is a fraud investigator; she works for the government to find people who are illegally claiming benefits.

Do you like your age? No, because it’s too ‘in the middle’! If I was below the age of 14, I’d be able to relax and be pretty carefree, and if I was above the age of, say 25, I wouldn’t be studying random crap that will never come up in the future and will actually be doing worthwhile things. Instead, I’m 17 and I need to study stuff that won’t come up even in my degree, and it’s almost impossible to find motivation right now.

What makes you angry? People making mistakes when I literally warned them not to; they were just that f*cking ignorant.

Do you like your own name? Some people know, but no, I don’t like my name. I feel like it just sounds a weird, so whenever I tell someone my name, I always include some disclaimer like ‘Oh, it’s a weird Asian name’.

Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? Nope, I haven’t thought of any! I mean, unless I name my kids Dan and Phil...

Do you want a boy a girl for a child? Call me sexist, but I want a boy!

What are you strengths? I can fit my whole fist in my mouth, and I’m pretty good at languages.

What are your weaknesses? I’m quite sensitive and sometimes I get carried away with jokes.

How did you get your name? Well, my parents called over some kinda psychic name-giver as soon as I was born, and they’d use my star sign, read my palm and use God knows whatever info they could make up, and then name me based on it. That gave me ‘Yasath’, which I’m pretty sure means ‘treasure’ or something.

Were your ancestors royalty? No, but they were pretty high up in government jobs :]

Do you have any scars? That’s Question 39, so just refer back to that :3

Colour of your bedspread? It is white and brown. Hey, it’s like me! Sorry, bad joke.

Colour of your room? It has generic, textured cream (I think) wallpaper.

Does it ever get better? I like to think so, and it’s usually the only shred of hope I have left. But if you think it will never get better, then it won’t ever get better, because you won’t let it get better! So yeah, just have that small light at the end of the tunnel in mind whenever you’re starting to lose hope in yourself <3

Jeeeeeeez, that was long! I hope someone enjoyed that at least haha

[godgiftcd-blog]

cause im a fckin Slut™ for this verse lately, here’s the full disclosure about what actually happened and how I imagined it all played out with Jean in a modern setting featuring headcanon galore and badly arrangement of how things built up as I’ve imagined in my head that may or may not have the potential to change as I go on with my portrayal of him. Of course, some aspects of this settings may be modified according to specific AUs. 

AGE 00.  Jean Kirstein was born to the Kirstein couple in Germany, and was christened by the name “Jean” which gave the meaning of “a gift from god” by his father. He was also named Jean partially because his dad was a big fan of Les Misérables, both the novel and the musical adaptation. 

AGE 02.  Jean was that fat baby (who’s hella cute) but is far too attached to his mom. Like, the kind that would cause a scene if his mom wasn’t around and is generally a difficult child to get along with. He began speaking at this age, and played a lot with his papa while the man planted away in their small garden. (His dad is a botanist.)

AGE 03.  His family moved to France, and papa got a bigger garden. His mama is probably that person who bakes a lot for the neighbours and sometimes during the holidays she made it into a business but overall they’re a very close-knit and happy family. Jean loves his omelettes, and papa tried breeding chicken for Jean but they stepped on a lot of papa’s plants and that made papa sad. Mama laughs, kisses papa’s cheeks and said it’s fine. They sold the chickens, fixed the garden and everything turned out okay.

AGE 04.  Jean started reading for papa, and he remembered being difficult and causing tantrum a lot and mama always had this pinching sort of look to her face that means she disapproved, and she yells a lot too because Jean would throw books and stuff, but papa was always patient, never yell. He would always pet Jean on the head with this small smile, says that it’s fine, it’s okay. “Jean is still a good boy,” he’d say and Jean would sniffle, calm down, watched as Mama went away with a huff and picked back up the books he threw. He read.

AGE 06. Mama said, “be good” on his first day of going to school and Jean kept bouncing up and down because school sounded so fun even though papa doesn’t talk much about it. School ended up terrible, because nobody seemed to like Jean and he came home crying lots because kids around always picked on his hair and took his bag and one day they even poured milk all over Jean’s stuff! Jean hated school, and sometimes wished — like the chickens he remembered stepping all over papa’s plants — could be sent away. Jean destroyed papa’s plants, just to see if it’ll work, and mama yelled so much and papa was so sad and Jean just didn’t stop crying and everything was so, so, so, so terrible.

AGE 07.  Jean came home and there’s a dog in the living room. Papa told him, “it’ll be okay from now on” and said the dog’s name was Javert. Javert is so silly and it drooled a lot and it pooped everywhere too, and mama made faces a lot when it did that. But one day Javert just didn’t poop anywhere like it once did and Jean was lying on the floor with him and he’s smiling a lot because Javert would bark sillily every time Jean played with his norse and mama said, “there you go, my sweet boy finally smiled” and Jean felt - better. For that moment. School still sucked, and going there was still a hassle. Most days, he just didn’t. Papa taught him most stuff, anyway. It was fine.

AGE 09. Jean took a test at this school where people kept saying how they knew Jean’s dad — “Your dad was an excellent student!” — and the school there was bigger and looked older and it smelled funny (like old books and old everything), and it turned out Jean’s a pretty smart kid, which was nice to hear, because mama seemed so proud. They said more that Jean performed just as well as his father did on the test, and they’d be excited to welcome Jean into their school from now on with a “scholarship” and Jean didn’t know what that meant, but mama said that maybe this is good. Maybe Jean can start over again, and “wouldn’t it be great, Jeanbo? You can make new friends! And studied where papa once went to.” Papa is awful quiet during the whole ordeal, and Jean didn’t really understand anything, because he didn’t think a new school would’ve made much of a difference, but he remembered how excited mama was — how hopeful — and, honestly, even at that age Jean knew he didn’t have anything to lose. So he said okay and continued to play with Javert. Life went on.

AGE 11. It didn’t get better. Turned out, people at that school didn’t like chubby kids nor students on a “scholarship” much. Said that Jean was poor, Jean was fat. Like his mama. Jean got angry a lot, the rage spilling and overflowing, and some days Jean didn’t know how to make it stop. It got much, much worse when the year was almost finished — and Jean got into trouble with these kids who kept pushing Jean around, shoving, taking his bag away, and calling mama “fat” and Jean “ugly” and Papa “retarded” and the next thing Jean knew he was caught with his body on top of the boys and his knuckles stained with blood. It wasn’t his. Jean didn’t remember much of what happened next, just that mama cried a lot and papa was quieter than usual and Jean felt like crying too but didn’t, and this kid’s father turned out to be “important” but he agreed to not press any charges as long as Jean didn’t go to that school and meet his child anymore. Papa said, “Okay.” Jean never looked at his parents the same anymore.

AGE 14.  The teacher at the public school insisted that Jean could “do better than this” in exams, but it’s whatever. Jean didn’t care, nobody does. He lost so much weight, tasted his first cigarette this year, and pierced his own ears with needles. Mama yelled some more when she found out, but Jean didn’t care. HE DOESN’T! So the old hag should just shut up and let him be. They screamed a lot, and Papa mustn’t like that very much, because whenever they do, he retreated to his garden or room — alone. It’s the first time Jean thought Papa was a coward. 

AGE 15.  Jean spent a lot of time with a street artist, Old Man Toni, who paint beautifully with anything he could touch. Old Man Toni was okay — he wasn’t rough or demanding or stupid like the group of people Jean would somehow found himself spending time with during recess or after school — and didn’t ask too much questions even though he probably should. Jean brought Old Man Toni warm bread a lot, and sometimes warm milk. He seemed to appreciate that. So much that one day he gave Jean a paper and a pencil, told, “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at the way I paint, Jean.” Jean learned how to sketch.

AGE 18.  Jean finished school, and signed up for the French Military Armed Force ( possibly would change it to Air Force though? ) — partially just to get away from his parents. Army was fine — difficult — but fine. Somehow, Jean never felt all that content.

AGE 23.  Due to a shoulder-chest injury that he’s sustained during his army career, Jean was honourably discharged. He was shipped back home and for the first time since years, cried when he saw mama and papa standing by the edge of his hospital bed. Almost three months later, papa accidentally brought home leaflets for colleges, told it’s a mix-up from by the mailman, probably. Jean looked up Political Major, and Mama laughed, “Finally somewhere where you can yell and people will actually hear you, Jeanbo.” Jean grinned, and signed up for it.

AGE 23, FALL.  College began, and while Jean didn’t particularly care much about what he’s going to be in the future — it was fun. The talk of assignments give him something to do, and the lecturers give him something to think about. Jean started working at a local art shop, just to make himself feel useful, and there he helped sell art supplies and art work by college students online (the art shop’s website became a platform). It was nice.

EXTRA NOTE: 

Yes, when Jean was a child, he went to a private school — but only because his father was an alumni, and his dad was this freakishly genius child who skipped like two grades or whatever. The school thought that Jean might be the same, so they were fine offering Jean a scholarship.

Jean isn’t a genius, just to make it clear, but he’s relatively smart for a kid who supposedly ditched the first years of school like, a lot. But he’s entirely logical and actually very quick in grasping stuff — so passing anything academically is generally easy for him. In later years, he just didn’t try hard enough and his academics suffered.

Jean went into Politics & Law because he likes the topic that he’s studying. He’s aware that he might never be a politician or whatever job he’s able to do with the degree. And, considering he just got wounded, his folks didn’t mind paying for it despite knowing he was just in college for the sake of just wanting the experience. In a way, everybody felt guilty that Jean never really had a good childhood and the parents weren’t able to help, as well as Jean felt guilty that he gave his mom and dad such a hard time growing up — which was why college seemed like a good thing to compensate for all of that. Jean went to school happy, and his parents didn’t have to worry as much. It works out.

Jean’s papa has high-functioning autism (which is exaggerated, I know, but I have this whole debate and argument to sort of back up why I favour this storyline which I will link later if I’m up for it) but it really means that his dad is... different, but is able to function rather well in mainstream setting as well as he’s able to fairly pick up on social cues. But, still, his dad has these characteristics — and is fairly quiet, doesn’t get mad if ever, and also doesn’t really like looking at people in the eyes and is generally a jittery person in nature (Jean inherits that). It sorta irks Jean when he’s a kid, but he’s also very used to the guy so it doesn’t really matter. What I meant to say is: this is a feature I specially headcanon for Jean and, from my point of view, it contributes partially to why Jean grew up the way he did and how he reacts to people talking about his parents now. (Again, it’s all in the argument and debate that I will hopefully link soon lol.) Still, should you disagree, I’m fine with not specifying this part of Jean’s father.

Jean doesn’t have an anger management issue. He just has a serious attitude problem (more so when he’s a kid) and a natural dickhole. The gizz of it that he’s a very blunt person and tends not filter whatever he wants to say. This doesn’t always make him popular, which he knows, and sometimes it even gets him into terrible fights. When he’s much younger, he fights dirtily and clumsily, having all of his experience of fighting limited to what he had to learn from the bullying he got. As he grew older and out of the army, his fighting became more accurate and sharp — but he tends to avoid that because sometimes overworking his muscle hurts his wounds.

Jean can’t draw all that prettily (mainly because he’s a beginner), but he has an eye for catching exquisite drawings / arts / photography. He’s very hipster-like, but not overly stylish; his clothes usually a button-up with fitting jeans and boots / or a sweater and a shirt — overall a clean and simple get-up. He has three holes for piercing on each of his ears and possibly a tattoo.