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stllmnstr · 2 months ago

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signed, sealed, delivered

Another drabble from an anon prompt! Started with this:

And turned into poor commoner Jaeyun x rich princess oc in a historical kingdom (so different setting but I hope you still enjoyyyyy 🫡) ps I usually write his name as jake but kept it jaeyun here to match the ask!

pps again I wrote this on my phone and it somehow ended up at 3k AND it's 4 in the morning. that's what you call a triple whammy, folks. enjoy and please excuse any mistakes 😭

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Sim Jaeyun is turning twenty-two years old today. It’s an impressive feat, in a kingdom where making it to eighteen without succumbing to disease or illness or something more directly borne of war is becoming more and more rare.

But Jaeyun made it to eighteen. Four long years ago. And the years have only been adding up, surely, if not also incredibly slowly, since then.

The only reason he’s made it this far is because he’s smart. Not in the textbook kind of way. Jaeyun wasn’t born into a family important enough to be literate, so it’s nothing but a blessing that he’s as good with words as he is, considering that he can't read them.

It's mostly because he uses them so sparingly. After all, Jaeyun hasn’t made it twenty-two years by talking. He’s done it by keeping his head down and his mouth shut. Just like any good commoner.

He pays his taxes on time and only participates in illicit activities - namely, harvesting crops from one of the sixteen royal gardens - after the sun goes down. He wears average clothes and eats average meals and spends his days with other average people.

From a lot of angles, it’s uninspired. It’s hardly a life at all. But it’s his reality, and for the vast majority of the kingdom’s population, it’s their reality, too.

So Jaeyun, even on his twenty-second birthday, doesn’t have any grand plans. The only thing he wants to do is barter for enough flour and sugar in the marketplace, and maybe even some butter if the dairy farmer takes pity on him, to make himself something sweet over the fire tonight.

As he walks towards the town square, there’s a lightness in his step. Even with midday sun beating on his back and perspiration beginning to gather on his nape, he’s sure that today will be a perfectly ordinary day. In his mind, that alone is something to be immensely grateful for.

By the time he’s secured minuscule amounts of flour and sugar, his mood is still in high spirits. Even though the dairy farmer does not seem to be in an agreeable mood.

“I’ll bring you an extra bag of corn,” Jaeyun whispers conspiratorially over a stack of delectable looking cheeses. He doesn’t even spare them a glance. There’s no point, really. The grumpy old farmer still seems reluctant to give up a fraction of a stick of butter.

“What am I going to do with corn?” The man waves a dismissive hand at him. Jaeyun suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. At least the woman selling sugar had been susceptible to a little old-fashioned flirting. He has the distinct feeling the same tricks won’t work here.

“Potatoes, then.” Jaeyun has no idea where he’ll get potatoes. The royal groundskeepers have a tight leash on that particular crop, but he’s getting desperate.

That, at least, seems to catch the dairy farmer’s attention. Jaeyun’s gut is starting to twist a bit in dread at the prospect of making good on his promise, but the thought of having butter is already enough to make his mouth water.

Before he has the chance to find out if his offer was accepted, the sound of trumpets cuts through the clamor of the market like a knife.

Immediately, conversations cease. Identical flashes of panic flicker through a hundred sets of eyes.

Three sharp, short notes. A beat of silence, and then they’re repeated. It’s a pattern that every citizen knows well.

The announcement of a royal.

Which also means it’s Jaeyun’s cue to craft a stealthy exit. It’s not that he’s a wanted man, per se, but he’d rather not be on the list of people the royal guard are familiar with.

Turning quietly on his heel, he silently mourns the loss of his precious butter with a small pout. And then he bumps straight into Park Sunghoon.

He’s an acquaintance, more than a friend. But he’s also one of the people Jaeyun is closest to in this world.

“Woah,” Sunghoon raises an eyebrow when he notes the swiftness of Jaeyun’s escape attempt. “Didn’t you hear the trumpets?”

“I think everyone on this side of the border heard them,” Jake grumbles, not pleased to be stalled. “That’s why I’m leaving.”

Sunghoon just shrugs, stepping to the side to let him pass. But Jaeyun barely makes it three steps before he’s asking, “You’re not curious?”

Jaeyun pauses, eyes going towards the sky above him in exasperation. He’s not sure why Sunghoon always insists on speaking in riddles, and especially when he’s trying to be discreet.

Turning back to face him, he bites, “Curious about what?”

Sunghoon smirks. He has a piece of information that Jaeyun doesn’t. It’s a rare situation, and he’s planning to milk the hell out of it. “The princess,” he finally says. “Princess ___” He adds in a sing-song voice.

The space between Jaeyun’s eyebrows begins to crease. “What are you talking about?”

“Rumor has it that’s who’s coming right now. Our lovely, fearless, princess is about to be paraded through the marketplace.”

“You’re lying.” Jaeyun shakes his head. He’s sure of it. He doesn’t know much about the king that he supposedly serves, other than his penchant for stationing rather incompetent guards by the crop fields that grow corn, but he does know how he treats his children. Namely, his daughter.

His oldest son is actively being groomed to become the next king, of course. The second born has a nasty chip on his shoulder about it and tries to make up for it by training until he can defeat every last member of the military in hand-to-hand combat and outsmart them in strategy meetings.

And you. The youngest. The only girl.

Much like your mother, you’ve been relegated to little more than a prop. Rumors of your beauty have spread far and wide, but that’s the only thing you’re allowed to be known for. Your days are spent learning how to sit correctly, how to curtsy nicely, how to embroider with alarming precision. How to please others.

Jaeyun’s never lost too much sleep about it. After all, a life in the palace, even a suffocating one, is still a luxury. He doubts you’ve ever had to wonder where your next meal would come from. You probably have actual cake on your birthdays, not makeshift concoctions that would taste significantly better if only you had a bit of butter.

But Sunghoon is insistent. “It’s true. I heard it from Sunoo. You know, he’s friends with that boy that works at the palace.”

“Well then Sunoo’s lying too.” Jaeyun’s words are clipped. He doesn’t have long to slip away if he wants to be gone by the time the procession arrives. “She’s never been in public before.”

Locked up in a palace for your whole life. For a moment, Jaeyun almost feels sorry for you. There’s nothing he loves more than an open field, wide and endless, under a starlit sky.

Taking a step forward, Sunghoon shakes his head. His voice is low when he adds, “Apparently it’s her birthday today. That’s why she’s here. They want to show her off a bit.”

The shock fades quickly. It’s not that strange of a coincidence, Jaeyun supposes, that the two of you share a birthday.

Jaeyun shakes his head firmly. He hopes it conveys a sense of finality. “I’m not staying.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Suit yourself. But I know a spot with a great view.” He jerks his chin to the left. “Just over the butcher’s shop. An old abandoned attic that no one uses anymore.”

Jaeyun hates himself for hesitating. Mostly because that small window of uncertainty is all Sunghoon needs.

“Come on,” he urges. “No one will see you. I promise.”

And it’s not like Jaeyun has that much stake in all of this, but Sunghoon was right. He is curious.

What is it like, he wonders, as Sunghoon leads him up a hidden set of stairs to the attic he pointed to earlier, to live your life at the epicenter of a well-oiled machine?

Do you know? That people like him have to fight to survive? That making it to twenty-two is something remarkable? Do you care?

Jaeyun can’t imagine why you would.

Still, as the procession draws near, Jaeyun feels his heartbeat quicken with it. Until it matches the cadence of the horse hooves coming closer and closer.

Until finally, finally, he gets his first glimpse of the first real royal procession he’s stuck around for in years.

Until he gets his first glimpse of you.

You’re pretty, he’ll give you that, but the more he studies you, the stronger the strange flicker of… disappointment begins to swirl in his gut.

From your seat in the pristine carriage you ride in, your posture is impeccable and your wave towards the crowd is fit for royalty.

You look exactly like a princess. He’s not sure why he expected anything different.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, doesn’t seem so satisfied with the glimpses of you he gets from the attic window. Eyes still locked on your carriage, he says, “I’m going to get closer.”

“What?” Jaeyun hisses. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, actually. And no matter how much Sunghoon annoys him, he doesn’t want to see the boy thrown in prison. Or worse, dead. “What do you mean, closer?”

But Sunghoon is already gone. Disappeared down the stairs that the two boys entered from only a handful of minutes ago. And now Jaeyun is alone.

Sliding an open palm down his face, he watches as your carriage fades from his limited view. Flour and sugar still in his pocket, he’ll have to wait now. At least an hour, probably, before the coast is clear enough to return home. He just prays Sunghoon manages not to do something too stupid before then.

Maybe he does have a bit of birthday luck, after all. A few moments later, he hears footsteps on the stairs again.

“You finally saw sense,” he calls out over his shoulder. “I tried to tell you that a closer look at some girl isn’t worth risking your life for.”

But Sunghoon doesn’t respond. Eyes rolling, Jaeyun assumes that he must not have found a better view and is deciding to sulk about it now. Fully prepared to rub salt in the wound. Jaeyun turns around fully.

But he was wrong. It’s not Sunghoon that he’s looking at. Or at least, he doesn’t think it is.

The figure who stands motionless at the top of the stairs is covered in a dark, shapeless cloak that extends all the way to the floor and has a hood that fully conceals its wearer’s face.

It’s also at least a head shorter than his friend.

Still, Jaeyun can’t help but hope. “Sunghoon?”

As if suddenly remembering themselves, the figure spins on their heel, turning back the way they came.

A thick sense of unease is building in Jaeyun’s gut. He has no idea who this stranger is, but it’s not Sunghoon. Quickly, awful scenarios begin to plague his mind.

What if it’s a spy? He wonders. A member of the royal guard. Someone here to report him for trespassing, if not one of his worse crimes.

Jaeyun can’t let that happen. Not when he’s made it this far. With all of his reflexes locking into gear, he lunges forward. His long fingers encircle the stranger’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

Still, they try to shake him. And for a moment, they’re successful. The wrist in his hand slips from his grip. But Jaeyun doubles down.

This time, he’s less hesitant. When he reaches for the figure, he grabs them by the waist instead. The struggle is noble, but brief.

In the span of a single heartbeat, Jaeyun has the cloaked stranger pinned beneath him on the attic floor, his knees encircling their rib cage as his hands pin both arms above their head.

Chest heaving, Jaeyun assesses the sight beneath him. In the struggle, the stranger’s hood has fallen loose, revealing a striking set of features.

And hair. Lots of it.

“You’re a girl,” Jaeyun’s breathes, just at the same time a devastatingly feminine voice accuses,

“You.”

“Me?” Jaeyun frowns. He’s never seen you before. Of that, at least, he’s positive. He would have remembered a face like yours.

Delicate and feminine and pretty in all the ways that make his mind spin, you’re a vision beneath him. One that almost has him forgetting the severity of the situation.

That is, until you lay another scathing accusation at his feet. “The corn thief.”

“Corn thief?” Warning bells are starting to sound in Jaeyun’s mind again. He’s been seen. He’s been caught. “You do work for the palace.”

Still on your back between his knees, your hands pinned above your head, your gaze is discerning. With rather flat intonation, you state, “We’re all citizens of the crown, are we not? We all serve the king.”

“Sure,” Jaeyun concedes, “but you actually work for them.” The reality of the situation, the severity of jt, is not lost on him. “You’ll report me to your superior and have me thrown in jail.” Or worse.

The only acknowledgement you give is a slightly raised eyebrow. Jaeyun hates himself a little for thinking that it makes you even prettier. “You make a lot of assumptions don’t you?”

“Are you new here?” He retorts. Sarcasm embeds itself into every word. “That’s kind of how things work.”

For a moment, you just look at him. Even though he’s above you, even though your arms are still firmly within his grip, Jaeyun has to fight the urge to squirm under your gaze. And then you sigh. “I’m not going to report you.” Sending a meaningful look towards his hands above your head, you ask, “Could you get off of me now?”

It’s probably stupid, the way he obeys your command so quickly. But there’s something in your voice, something that rings with authority. He’s scrambling off of you with a speed that’s almost comical.

You are slower to rise, rubbing at your freed wrists while you draw yourself to full height. Looking at you like this, Jaeyun almost thinks that he must have hit his head in the scuffle.

You’re not just pretty. You’re gorgeous. Disarmingly so. Jaeyun would be the first to admit that he hasn’t spent much time around girls, that he doesn’t have much to compare you to, but he’s still certain you’re in possession of a rare kind of beauty. Or, at least, one tailored specifically for him.

Despite his sudden fixation, your last words still ring in his mind. I’m not going to report you.

“You’re not?” He’s hesitant to believe it.

“No, I…” you trail off for a moment, unsure how to phrase your desire. “I want to help you, actually.”

He really must be concussed. “You want to help me?”

“I mean, not you specifically.” Looking around the attic, you seem to be talking to yourself more than him when you mutter, “Ugh. Jungwon swore this room would be empty.”

Still, Jake hears you. And he’s stuck on one word. Jungwon. It sounds so familiar. But why? Why does he know that name?

It takes him another minute of wracking his brain, but he does eventually locate the source of the familiarity. Sunoo. Jungwon is the name of Sunoo’s friend who works at the…

At the palace.

It’s not like he’s surprised that you’re closely associated with the royals, but based on what Sunoo gossips about with Sunghoon, Jungwon works rather closely with the royal family themselves. With the princess.

For a moment, all Jaeyun can do is stare at you. And then he asks, “Who are you?”

Your smile is wry, and it doesn’t reach your eyes. But your curtsy is perfect, even if you’re mocking him. “Princess ___. It’s a pleasure.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes. How stupid do you think he is? He may just be a commoner, but he’s not an idiot. “Does that actually work on people? You know, the whole town just saw her ride by in a carriage. Literally less than ten minutes ago. And you,” Jaeyun makes quick work of scanning you head to toe, “are not her.”

“The whole town just saw Karina ride by in a carriage,” you correct.

Jaeyun frowns. “Who’s Karina?”

“My favorite handmaiden.”

Again, all Jaeyun can do is look at you. His jaw opens. Closes again. He has the distinct feeling he looks rather similar to the fish laid out on ice in the market beneath you. “You… you’re actually the princess.”

“Like I said,” you don’t bother to curtsy fully this time, just nod in a small bow, “it’s a pleasure. It’s actually kind of lucky that I ran into you here.” Jaeyun watches as your demeanor shifts, sarcasm turning to something far more serious. “So, corn thief, what can you tell me about the patrols they run near the corn crop fields?”

“Why?” Jaeyun doesn’t bother to mask his suspicion. “So you can reinforce them? Or apprehend me next time?”

“No,” you counter, “so I can pass the information along.”

It’s far too vague for his liking. “To…”

You look at him for a moment, as if deciding how much or your trust you’re willing to place in him, too. Finally, you say, “To people who might need it.”

Before he can press you further or ask what that means, Jaeyun hears the sound of trumpets again. A slightly different three note pattern than before.

“Shit…” You curse under your breath, Jaeyun hates the way it makes him feel hot beneath his clothes. “I have to go,” you tell him. “You know the old oak tree? The one near the mouth of the river?”

Jaeyun nods, suddenly distrustful of his voice.

“I’ll leave you a note there.” You’re already pulling your hood up over your head again, wrapping the cloak back around your body. “Check it tomorrow after midnight. It will tell you when and where to meet me.”

Jaeyun frowns. “But I—”

“What’s your name?” you interrupt. “I can’t call you corn thief forever.”

“Jaeyun,” he tells you after a beat. “Sim Jaeyun. But wait, I—”

“Tomorrow,” you reiterate, looking at him one last time. “After midnight.”

“But—” Jaeyun tries to protest one final time. It’s no use. You're already gone.

Out loud to an empty attic, Sim Jaeyun finally admits, “But I can’t read.”

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STOPPP I'm kind of obsessed with them......

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#jake fanfic #jake fanfiction #jaeyun fanfic #jaeyun fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #jake drabble #jaeyun drabble #enhypen drabble #jake x you #jake x reader #Enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #jake sim fanfic #jake sim fanfiction #jake sim x you

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