#close enough!!!

"Wife of 21st Century's Grand Prince" Is set in a modern-day constitutional monarchy. IU is playing an heiress and Byeon Woo Seok is playing the modern day prince!!

I drew a floor plan of what I've always imagined Ingo and Emmet's apartment to be!

-Not everything is to scale, obviously, since this is just a freehanded plan

-The dining area and kitchen are based on my grandparent's house; the rest was supplied entirely by my brain

-Corner apartment means plenty of windows :D

I was tagged by the the loveliest @salutmonmec @livvyblxckthxrn @smblmn @lallemanting @lucasseliott to create a cute lil picrew 💛 now updated to show how my hair and my roots have been growing out in quarantine 🤠

Imagine being in a relationship with: June

There were no labels. They had had them beaten, cut, burnt, branded into them before. They had avoided words and feelings for so long they wondered if they had forgotten what it felt like to be something to someone. Dante had tried. Dante should have known better. Fear was a contagion, a scar that never healed. It turned even the noblest person feral, and June didn’t even have the privilege of being that. They were bloodied teeth and nightmares; to survive was not to keep secrets, but to become one. They had no qualms with cruel words twisting deep like a blade, with physical pain if necessary. Any hurt now would save the agony of later. Keep them away, keep them safe. They could break so easily into shards of ice, they couldn’t inflict those cuts onto anyone else. No-one.

But you. Oh, you. You took them by surprise.

Taco found you, because of course he did. A walk in rain that was a few degrees from snow, coat collar turned up against the cold. Irritated by the sting of the cold air and the slow pace their companion made, nevertheless allowing him to pad along at his own speed as they sank further and further into their own thoughts. A jerk on the lead and Taco was suddenly dragging them through sheer force of will toward a stranger. They could have set their heels and pulled him back. Could have, would have, should have. They let him do what he wanted and sealed their fate.

It was only when they caught the waft of hound-scent from you that they realized you weren’t just any human. Their spine stiffened, mind flashed back to any memory that might explain it. You stank of human rot, and yet... Ah, yes, Dante had mentioned something about a mortal. It had been a bad night and they had been doing their best to drown their troubles - and everything else - in red wine and smoke. That was also the night they had drunk too much and ended up nodding off in his lap. How fucking humiliating.

You had recognized them in an instant. The diminutive figure, sleek black hair, jagged teeth visible behind parted, thin lips, and the ink-dark eyes gave it away. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” you said. You weren’t sure of the truth in that statement yet, but Taco was scrabbling his little paws on your leg and whining for more petting, so it was at least half-true.

“Don’t get so excited.” June’s eyes bored into yours for three unnervingly long seconds, before they tugged Taco back and turned away. “You’ll see me again soon.”

Of course you did. Dante was thrilled he had finally found somebody they didn’t immediately despise and decided to immediately push his luck. They were just surprised by how often you agreed to come to their darkened den of an apartment, where Taco threw himself at you with his tail wagging a million miles an hour and the slightly stagnant air smelled like wine and almond soap. Maybe Dante had told you what an oddity you were, maybe you were curious, maybe you liked Taco’s obnoxiousness. Whatever it was, they didn’t care. You weren’t too bad, for a mortal. You rarely asked stupid questions, and when you did you didn’t ask them twice. You also didn’t break anything, try to pry into their business, or annoy them too much. You even managed to keep up with them when they talked. But they didn’t care. They didn’t.

It crept up on them, the whatever-it-was. It was a fine adversary, a cunning hunter. They didn’t even see it coming until it was too late. Small-talk graduated to discussions, in which June tried and shockingly failed to outwit you. You seemed to enjoy games too, judging by your grin at the almost-invisible indignity on their face. You slowly graduated from the table to the couch beside them (they graciously ignored you.) Eventually they ran into you again on the way to dinner, and since Taco refused to leave your side, they grudgingly invited you to tag along.

“Scaring the mortals is an essential part of dining out,” they explained causally after flashing their teeth at a young waiter, who paled slightly.

“I’m a mortal, remember.”

“Yes, but you’re not like them. You’re not scared of me.” They leaned forward, claw-like nails resting on the table between you. “... Are you?”

You knew the truth now, so you said, “No.”

“You shouldn’t be proud of that. It just means you’re stupid.” But their grin had lost its edge as they leaned back, and you caught them watching you thoughtfully during the meal. The meal itself was awful, so greasy you could feel feel it getting stuck in your arteries already. June, however, seemed to enjoy themself a lot, terrifying the poor waiter and criticizing the meal with gleeful abandon. When you asked, they shrugged delicately while wiping oil off their nails. “I’m a connoisseur. It’s not fun if it’s not terrible.”

“You’re terrible,” you told them with a smile.

It was only later, lying awake in bed as they did every night, that they realized with a sinking dread what this feeling was. Why they felt the urge to smile at you, let you stay at their apartment for as long as you wanted, even without Dante’s interference, why you allowed Taco to get so attached to you and why they invited you along. “Fuck me,” they breathed out to the empty room.

The relationship was rocky, spanning floors laced with broken glass, harsh words, ice and fire. There was something underneath that scarred skin, lurking in the endless shadows of those dark eyes: something not altogether whole or right or human. But they tried, for you. For the first time, they tried. They picked their pieces off the floor, sliced open their fingers as they tried to put themself back together. You were the last bit of the puzzle, pressed close enough to keep them from falling apart again. You got them to quit smoking, despite their protests that they only did it when they had no other choice. Opened the windows to let in light and fresh air. You limited the alcohol, replaced it with blankets and trashy books and trashier movies and the expensive face masks they loved. In return, they were your refuge. Tentative kisses like they were learning how not to hurt, sharp edges melting to softness under your touch. Their hand always seemed to find its way into yours, though they pretended they hadn’t noticed. They listened with endless patience when you needed to talk, entertained you with the idea of them going after whoever was upsetting you. They played quietly on the piano for your benefit, forced themself to touch the keys they had avoided for so long. Your mind games continued, playful and quick. You tried and fail multiple times to get your bitter grinch to use technology. Their apartment became the home you never knew you needed, and you became the one they had been unknowingly waiting for for years upon years.