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kookslastbutton · 1 year ago

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When I Say Forever ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: Today’s your wedding day and the slightly shy yet handsome, doe-eyed stranger who chased after you when you dropped your wallet on the street three years ago just happens to be the man standing before you today.

Original request: can you please write something about oc's and Jungkook's wedding? Your readers just need to witness it. We would highly appreciate it. Thank you!

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/AU: fluff, smut, wedding au

word count: 4,696

warnings: a cute wedding where jungkook gets emotional and is very eager to be married, they get a little scolded during the ceremony ahaha, jk is romantic and prepares something very special for his lovely bride, mentions of absence of parents on oc's side (nothing gets too deep but I chose to go this route due to the very real factor that parents aren't always around), and finally sexual content bc come on it their wedding night 🥺

sexual warnings: soft dom!jk, sub!reader, swearing, explicit s*x, jk asks for consent bc yeah i don't even need to justify it, f*ngering, oral (both m. and f., multiple orgasms, dry humping, t*tty suck, heavy making out, overstimulation, possessive!kook, m*ssionary, c*wgirl, oc claws at his back which jk seems to have a kink for, a little bit of steamy rivalry at the end (just a hint), our kook is attentive even though it gets kinda rough

now playing: My You by jjk

a/n: my you has been one of my on repeat songs and im not sorry. Also, thank you for the request, i hope this is alright! Anyway pls enjoy! ❤

Dozens of cherry blossom trees are sky-high in the air, covering you as you walk down the aisle in the grass. Some of the blush pink and white blossoms shake from branches every few steps to shower over you in a cascading effect. The temperature is also perfect, a steady 68 degrees.

This is why you and Jungkook chose to marry in the spring–it was beautiful.

You look to your left, then to your right. Rows of seats filled with family, friends, and co-workers stare at you in awe. The only two people missing, however, are your parents.

With the passing of your father years ago and your mother's absence in your life since then, your half of the guest list isn’t extensive by any means. It's for those reasons that you both agreed a small wedding would be ideal.

Still, even with the minimized guest list, you find it difficult to hold eye contact with any of them. It's not because you're nervous exactly–you simply don’t believe your reality is real.

Was this another one of your silly dreams?

Are you going to wake up just as you reach the front?

You keep your eyes straight ahead and towards the man who's waiting for you with tightly clasped hands. He makes all your worries melt away in that instant.

No, you remind yourself. This isn't a dream.

The veil you’re wearing drags on the ground behind you and flows over the small train of your delicate, white gown. You chose a form-fitting sheath dress that’s made from the softest satin fabric. Its clean, sharp lines allow the semi-deep-v neckline to appear more elegant than revealing.

The closer you get the more Jungkook’s cheeks wet with his tears. He knew he was going to cry today. But he was hoping it’d happen towards the end so he could see you walking down the aisle to him without his vision blurring.

“Hi,” he whispers to you once you’re fully in front of him. He wipes his face with his thumbs as subtly as he can.

You bow to each other in greeting and, with the request to join hands from your officiant, you hand your bouquet of fresh-cut flowers to your maid of honor and place your hands in his gentler ones.

“Hi,” you reply, equally quiet and with a small smile.

Jungkook’s dark, raven hair parts in the middle with a few strands tastefully out of place. He’s wearing a black, pin-stripped suit with a matching vest and plain black tie. The white dress shirt underneath is buttoned all the way up to the top too and he’s kept all his piercings in, including his lip ring. He’s unbelievably handsome–and he’s yours.

When your officiant begins making the welcome speech, the guests settle down in their seats all at once. Yet you and Jungkook keep whispering to each other as softly as you can.

“You look amazing.” His thumbs rub soothing circles over the top of your knuckles.

“So do you.” Your gaze holds his reddened ones. The fact that he’s still on the verge of tears causes you to form watery eyes as well. But you blink them back. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I know. I feel the same way.” He pauses and grins at you. “Did you see who came with whom?” He gives a side-eye, gesturing at Jimin, one of his best men.

“I saw.” You and Jungkook start giggling at once because the person who Jimin brought as his plus one is perhaps the most annoying person in the world to him–your co-worker who’s had an insane crush on him for the last year. They insisted that Jimin be a “gentleman” and show them a good time while at your wedding.

“Do you think they’ll…you know,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively to finish the sentence.

Jungkook shakes his head lightly. “I don’t know, maybe. I can’t really bother to think about who’ll sleep with who when you’re gonna be the one under me tonight.”

Though he says it with the most sincere tone, more endearing than flirty, you swallow hard. It’s not your first time with Jungkook but you’re unsure what to expect tonight. You’ll be his wife after this.

“Why do you get to top?” you mouth.

Jungkook gives a half-smirk.“Why do you pretend to hate it?”

You open your mouth to form a response but the harsh clearing of a throat behind Jungkook orders you to stop.

“Everyone-ahem-can hear you,” Taehyung coughs. “Stop it for god sake.”

“Yes, if the bride and groom could please save the after-wedding affairs for later, we can move forward with the ceremony. Thankfully I don't see many children in the crowd today,” the officiant adds as humorously as she can and the crowd chuckles.

Oh god. You bite down on your tongue to keep from embarrassing the two of you further.

Once your officiant is able to finish her welcome speech she turns her attention to you. "__ do you want to marry Jungkook, to be your husband, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always?

"I do. Yes."

She looks at Jungkook afterward. "Jungkook do you want to marry __, to be your wife, to love and to cherish all the days of your life, today, tomorrow, and always?

He stares at you, wordless for a moment as every memory between the two of you hits him like a tidal wave. His hand starts shaking in yours, and tears start spilling from his eyes again.

"You okay?" You whisper and this time it's your turn to rub soothing circles on his hands, calming him down.

"Yeah," he sniffs. "I just never imagined myself to be standing here today. I love you so much."

Your officiant decides it's best to wait for the right time to speak but Jungkook smiles at her softly. "That means yes by the way," he jokes and the guests laugh in unison.

She turns to the ring bearer, aka Namjoon's eight-year-old son who stands on Jungkook's left by his father. "May we have the rings please?"

The boy walks over to her, hands over the small gold bands, then returns to his previous position.

"The couple will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and devotion. I understand they have prepared their own vows thus binding promises to love, honor, and cherish one another. __, please place this ring on Jungkook’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

You take the ring and begin slipping it on Jungkook's finger. "They say when you marry someone you become one. You consider each other in every decision, make compromises for the other, and be the strength when the other cannot. We've been together for three years now Jungkook, doing those exact things and I couldn't fathom stopping now. I love you and I promise I'll always be here next to you, however and whenever you need."

"Jungkook," your officiant hands him your ring. "Please place this ring on __’s finger and when you're ready you may begin."

"When I saw you years ago, waiting at the crosswalk, I thought you were the most beautiful and intriguing person I'd ever seen in my life." He puts the ring on your fourth finger. "And then you dropped your wallet and it gave me the best opportunity to approach you. Little did I know, the sight of a man running after would make you run too. But you took my number in the end and three years later, the love of my life is standing before me. Everything I am and have belongs to you __, always and forever."

Your officiant smiles at you both as Jungkook struggles to keep his distance from you a few seconds longer. He's been waiting for this very moment since the day you agreed to be his boyfriend. He just can't take it any longer!

"In the presence of...oh for the love of might," your officiant stops mid-sentence when she sees Jungkook shuffling his feet closer and closer towards you. "Never in my twenty years of performing marriages have I seen a groom this eager to get married. Go ahead and kiss your wife hun! Mr. and Mrs. Jeon Jungkook everyone!"

Massive grin on his face, Jungkook grabs your waist and dips you low into a romantic kiss. The crowd goes wild at the dramatic gesture, whistling and clapping behind you.

After about a million more tears, speeches, first dances, a surprise song preformed by the wedding party, and Jungkook practically ripping off the lace garter around your thigh with his teeth, the wedding festivities come to an end. But not before you both find yourself being guided to a secret place led by Taehyung.

The wedding party insisted you be blindfolded beforehand. So here you are, almost pitch black out and clinging to Jungkook's arm.

"I don't understand why I need to be blindfolded and you don't," you say.

"I'm not sure," he replies. "Maybe they got you a gift or something."

"We're here! Stop!" You hear Taehyung shout from a few feet ahead and Jungkook freezes in place. You're body jolts forward a little with the sudden pause.

"__." Jungkook calls your name softly. "Open your eyes."

You flutter your lids open and at first, the sight before you is hazy as you adjust to the night sky. But then, your jaw drops to the ground.

In front of you is a charming river surrounded by perfectly arched cherry blossoms with lanterns hanging from the branches. All the lanterns illuminate the entire length of the stream, including around the bends and curves. At the edge of the stream is a small dock where a wooden row boat floats with a set of oars inside.

"Oh my god." Your eyes trail as far down the river as you can. You've only ever seen this in movies, so you're incredibly overwhelmed by the sight. "Jungkook, are we-are we going in there?"

He watches as you openly gape at the scene in front of you. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

You whip your head in his direction. "Are you kidding? It's amazing! Did you know about this?"

His big grin tells you everything you need to know.

"He planned everything himself," Namjoon speaks up. "Come on, your boat's waiting. It'll take you all the way to one of the best hotels in Seoul. I know you're going on your honeymoon tomorrow but we thought a night up in a five-star hotel might be nice. Unless you want to go back to Jungkook's house of course but...we kinda already grabbed your suitcases for the trip and had them put in your room."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious __."

You snake your arms out Jungkook's arm and swing them around him. "I can't thank you enough for doing this, Joon."

He places a gentle hand on your upper back. "Of course, but like I said. Jungkook planned everything so you should thank him more than me." He laughs and breaks away from you when he sees the younger man eyeing the two of you excruciatingly close. "I think your husband would like you back now."

Jungkook comes up behind you and sneakily slips your hand in his tatted one. "Are you ready?" He gestures towards the boat.

You nod and he pulls you towards the dock, helping you into the boat first when you approach it. He sits across from you after and grabs the oars of the boats, lowering them into the water one at a time.

"Wait!" Taehyung lunges over the edge of the boat with something small and black in his palm. "Don't forget this." He clips a tiny microphone to his shirt and you scrunch your eyebrows.

"What's this about?" You ask.

Taehyung only half-smirks at you and backs away from the boat. "We'll see you when you come back from the honeymoon okay? Have fun! But please, for the sanity of us all, don't text us any details. In the words of the wise, keep the private things private!"

Jungkook laughs and starts rowing the boat forward and down the stream. You, on the other hand, wave goodbye to everyone as you drift further and further away from the dock.

"So, husband," you sit with your elbows on your knees. "What's the mic for?"

Jungkook doesn't reply but shushes you instead. He tests the mic a couple of times before soft music comes from either side of you. Apparently, there are stereos lined down the banks of the river.

When he starts singing, you cover your mouth in overwhelming joy.

"Summer has already spread in the air

Breeze is already blowing.

The last cold snap is going out

The days were getting longer and longer

But my days were still going on and on and on

I got wet in the sunshower, I looked up at the night sky..."

At this moment the lanterns start twinkling, reflecting like raindrops in the water. You look all around you, taking in the change of atmosphere. Jungkook's cool eyes focus on you intently as he continues serenading you.

"It was quite a lonely night

In the blink of an eye, the dark faded out

Blooming under the sunlight

Memories with me and you..."

The boat rows left and you peer over your shoulder. Taehyung and the rest of the wedding party are barely visible by now. When you look ahead again, you see that you're about to go under a stone bridge. On the other side are more cherry blossom trees and a glimpse of downtown Seoul.

"All these lights are colored in by you

All these times are precious due to you

Four seasons have passed with you

Four scents were left 'cause of you

All the reasons why I can laugh out

All the reasons why I sing this song

Thankful to be by your side now

I'll try to shine brighter than now..."

Jungkook rows the two of you closer to the city as he finishes his song, passing a number of other couples taking night strolls together. The wind blows a little but it doesn't make you shiver at all—his voice warms your soul.

And when you lean in to kiss him once the boat reaches the dock near the hotel, fingers grazing his cheeks, your body yearns to be near his.

It takes little to no time for the two of you to find your hotel room. Jungkook swipes your keycard in the door and in you both go, your hand shamelessly yanks at his tie.

He presses you up the back of the door once it's locked shut and kisses you with a fiery passion. It's different from all the other times; neither rough nor soft, as he sucks on your bottom lip, eagerly begging to deepen the kiss.

"Kook," you let out a muffled moan when his tongue finds its way into your mouth. It's a wrestle at first, your tongues toying with each other. And once you get the hint that he's not about to back down you start threading your fingers through his hair.

"I love it when you do that," he groans and pushes himself against your body, grinding his growing bulge against your center.

You whine against his lips and grind your hips back into his. "I know you do," you tease and a strong pair of hands wander your waist before traveling behind to grip your ass.

You yelp when he squeezes your cheeks and starts rutting himself into you faster. He moves his pillowy lips to the side of your neck too, peppering you with kisses from the the sensitive area right below your earlobe and all the way down to your collarbone.

"Fuck," he grunts, nothing short of frustrated, when your dress stops him from kissing down any further. The hands gripping your ass move up to find the zipper of your gown. "Please, baby, can I remove it?"

"Yes, go ahead," you nod and retract your hands from his hair to let the gown fall off your shoulders. Jungkook watches lustfully as your bare breasts are revealed to him little by little. He's seen them a million times but each time is always like his first, his eyes never fail to dilate.

"Perfect," you hear him whisper under his breath. And when the gown pools to the ground around your feet with a heavy thump, he can't hold himself back any longer.

He needs you.

One by one he starts tearing off his suit jacket, then his vest and leather belt until he's left standing in nothing else left except his black underwear. His muscles bulge without even having to flex and his pecs are more than solid.

If he weren't the love of your life, you'd say he was damn intimidating. Yet the pleasure you get from simply viewing his perfectly toned body is ridiculous and what pushes you further is the gold band wrapped around his fourth finger.

Jungkook must be feeling the same as his hands are back on your hips in the seconds following, pushing you to the wall adjacent to the door and attacking the area near your collarbone again with his plushy lips. You whine when his large pecs rub against your pebbled nipples.

"God what have you been lifting these day Jeon? Half of Seoul?" You rest your hands on his biceps which tense at the touch.

"Uh uh," he tsks in response. "Can't call me that anymore. We share the same name now." He kisses your shoulder then moves his mouth over to a nipple. He licks one first, teasing it with the tip of his tongue until you moan for him to keep going.

"You have such soft boobies," he comments before finally sucking on one. Your head falls back from the pleasure it sends up your spine.

"Do you have to say it like that?"

He switches to the other breast, licking and sucking it firmly like the he'd done previously. "What's wrong with boobies? I like the word."

You chuckle and decide to let him have his fun. Pick you battles __, you hum to yourself.

Jungkook tugs at the string of your underwear after placing one last kiss atop each boob. He slowly pulls the thin material down your legs at your consent and you step out from them.

"Lean against the wall and throw your leg over my shoulder," he tells you on bended knees.

You do as he says, swinging a leg over his shoulder. The movement has his head face to face with your cunt which is not in the least bit dry from all the teasing and grinding earlier.

Jungkook sticks a finger in his mouth, wetting it with his spit and then rubs it back and forth between your folds. The lubrication mixes with your own arousal.

"Jungkook," you whine when he doesn't sink his finger in right away, despite the fact that you're well prepared for it.

He blinks at you through his lashes with a devious smirk. "What?" He asks. "You don't like this?"

"I do but I need more. Please," you beg. "Fingers. In me. Please."

He groans at the way your voice seems to crack the more you beg. Well, he's made you wait long enough. Jungkook pushes his finger into your velvet walls all at once, dragging it back and forth in search of your sweet spot.

He knows he's found it when you instantly buck your hips and the leg that's over his shoulder reflexively clamps down on him.

"Right here?" He curls his finger inside you and it has your pussy already throbbing for him. You don't even have to ask for a second finger before he does the honors himself, sliding another into you then proceeding to make a scissoring motion with both digits. "Or here?" He asks again.

"Anywhere," you barely make out through your gasps. "Just don't stop what you're doing."

"What if I wanna lick your pussy?" He pumps his fingers faster all while maintaining focus on your face. "Make you come all over my tongue."

"God Kook, do whatever you want," you reply and it's all the push he needs to remove his fingers from out of you to replace it with his mouth. "Fuck!" You cry as he desperately licks long stripes up your slippery folds, tongue dipping inside for additional pleasure.

He repeats the motion several times until he decides its not enough and sucks on your clit.

"Oh, that feels so good, fuck, fuck Jungkook," you moan with eyes closed and a shaky breath.

Your legs start trembling as your first orgasm of the night builds inside. It gets closer and closer as Jungkook works faster and faster before finally, the cord inside you breaks free.

Jungkook happily swallows as much of your cum as he can. He uses his wrist to wipes his mouth after, cleaning up any leftover.

"First time eating my wife out," he starts, guiding your leg over his shoulder back on the ground. "What a fucking turn on."

Jungkook stands up and pulls you into an embrace with both hands, your bare bodies press tight against each other. Then, without any warning, he swoops up your legs with one hand supporting your lower back and lifts your into his arms.

"Kook!" You call his name in suddeness of the action.

"Yes? What is it wife?" He carries you to the large, king size bed that's covered in rose petals and lays you on top. His handsome face leans over you with careful, attentive eyes while a hand reaches for one of the soft pillows nearby to slip under your head.

It's now that the weight of the moment hits you, as if you've just doven off a steep cliff and head first into the rushing rapids of the ocean.

"I love you," you say.

Jungkook sticks his thumbs in the band of his underwear and pushes it down until he can easily remove them. He's fully hard when he crawls over top of you after, and places his hands on either side of your head.

"I love you too." He lowers his head to capture your lips into a deep kiss. "Now," he continues, sitting up on his knees and shimmying his thighs up your frame. "I think I might need some help here."

He grips his pulsating length, tan tip leaking with pre-cum. You widen your mouth gladly and he shoves his length to the back of your throat.

"Mm!" You gag but to say you hate it would be a lie.

Jungkook doesn't move at first, letting you get used to the weight of his cock on your tongue first. He bites his lip as you hallow your cheeks the best you can.

"I don't want to come, I just want it wet okay?" He tells you and you nod in understanding. "Fuck, so good," he lets out a throaty growl after the first thrust.

You suck him as hard as you can as he fucks your mouth at a steady pace, making sure his cock will be nice and well-lubricated with your spit this time.

"Can't believe we're married," he thrusts faster, teeth clenching together. "My wife, mine forever. No one else can have you. I won't let them."

You blink your glassy eyes at him, thighs struggling to rub together due to the arousal pooling between your legs for the tenth time tonight.

You love him so fucking much.

Jungkook pulls himself out of your mouth while you're in thought, a string of spit following. He backs himself down your body until he can properly hover over you in a straddling position.

"Legs up," he commands and you wrap them around his waist in a criss-cross position. His wetted length finds your entrance with little guidance and pushes forward, stretching your walls so deliciously well.

"Oh my god," you shudder as his cock sinks all the way in thanks to both of you being incredibly worked up and lubricated. Your hands fly under his arms after two thrusts, to grip his back. "Fuck, you're so deep Kook."

"I know, holy shit," he grunts and beats himself into you. He likes the feeling of your body bouncing up and down underneath him so leans down on his elbows to fuck you faster and harder. "I think this might be the deepest I've been in you baby, so wet for me—fuck!"

He moans loudly when your nails claw his back. "Shit I'm sorry!" You relax your fingers immediately when he winces at the slight pain.

"No," he nips at your jaw. "I like it, keep doing it. Mark me up." He snaps his hips into yours and you claw at his back again, harsher than the last time; not enough to hurt him but enough to make him moan in your ear over and over again.

"Jungkook! Too much," you pant as he burries his head in your neck, trailing hot open mouth kisses to the area. "It's too much, I'm gonna come!"

"Fuck, that's the goal baby!"

"Yeah but, don't wanna come so soo—"

He shuts you up with his tongue shoving between you lips, kissing you with a purpose. You's body squirms at the pleasure and you find yourself clenching around his thick length that yes, twitches in response.

"Three years together and you still think I'll give you one round and call it quits. Since when baby?" He groans as he feels himself achingly close to his high (you too). "Tell me, since fucking when?" He emphasizes once more.

You're too lost in how close you are to your second orgasm to give him an answer.

"That's right, never."

One hard thrust later and you come on his length. It takes little time before he releases in you as well, yet he continues his pace.

"That's one down," Jungkook says, riding out both your orgasms which slowly works you up to another. "Not including any eating out. And if my memory serves our record is five. Don't you think we should surpass that now that we're legally bonded to each other Mrs. Jeon? In sickness and in health was it?"

"I'm still trying to recover from the first two orgasms I had tonight, including the fingering and you relentless dry humping."

"Baby," he coos. "My sweet baby, come here." With both arms Jungkook lifts your body with his until you're both in an upright, seated position. Your legs that were once wrapped around his waist rest on the mattress as he thrust up into your cunt. "Don't you know I just want to make you feel good? Why recover when you can be wrecked so heavenly over and over again?"

You moan and squeeze your hands on his shoulder. Jungkook studies your face, maintaining slow, calculated thrusts into you.

"Come for me again," he says.

And you do, sticky white liquid dripping down to the base of his cock and onto the sheets under you.

"You enjoyed that didn't you?" He smirks. "Let's see you get on all fours now. I'd love to see how well my wife takes it from behind."

You catch him off guard by pushing on his chest and guiding him flat on his back. "Mm no," you refuse him. "I think I'd like to get a taste of my husband as a bottom instead."

Jungkook's cock hardens inside you and his fingers settle around your hips as he smirks up at you. "Go ahead then," he tests. "Try getting yourself off."

"You think I can't do it?" You narrow your eyes and grind forward on his cock, earning you a deep growl from your new husband.

"We'll see how long you'll last before I have to flip you on your back and take over," he spats. "But good luck beautiful."

With a huff and determination in your eyes, you start a strong pace. Jungkook watches you with lustful eyes as you bounce on him– enjoying the show a little too much.

a/n: Thanks for reading! Lmk what you think 🥰

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breakyourrxles · 2 years ago

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❥of floral lace (m)

↳ Wedding planning is a stressful enough job as it is, without the added trouble of a handsome best man who can't seem to take his attention off of you.

But when it comes to 'meant to be,' maybe he knows something that you just don't quite know yet.

best man!bang chan x wedding planner!fem!reader — strangers to lovers, meet-cute, unrequited (?) pining, explicit sexual content. [11,2k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, protected penetrative sex, Chan wants it bad-bad, a lot of teasing and wanting and flirtatious banter.

In February, the weather is still cold. Bitter and icy, some days. Windy, with occasional snow, and it’s days like this that make it feel as though the warmth of spring and summer may never come. Sometimes, it’s the small reminders that life – the world itself – is ever changing. Spring will always come, winter will always end.

Such is life, isn’t it?

Walking up to the glass and platinum plated front doors of the expensive building, Chan muses the thoughts. Despite it not being for him – simply being an accomplice, of sorts – being involved in the wedding party tends to bring about the thoughts of ones own, personal love life. Life in general. Cycles of love and loss, all encompassing. A tall, white, building in a busy and upper class side of town – not where Chan is from, but where the bride-to-be was from. Completely foreign while simultaneously being familiar in proximity. Stepping forward and reaching for the door with his dominant hand, opening it for the couple and attempting to push his long, blonde hair out of his eyes with his other hand, the woman that his best friend would marry looks towards him kindly and chuckles – a comment about knowing the struggles of women with long hair versus the wind, and Chan smiles in response to her.

He likes her. Always had. Nothing romantic, but he was proud of the choice that his best friend of many years had made in a life partner. Chan often found himself hopeful that he, too, may one day make such a choice for himself.

The three enter the building as he continues the attempt of wrangling his hair – best friend in question, Lee Minho, laughing under his breath as to not disturb the quiet ambiance of the room they had just entered.

“Are you gonna cut it before the wedding?” he asks, lightly nudging Chan in the arm, and Chan looks at him in a slight state of shock, as if the thought had never even dawned on him for a second previously.

“Should I?”

“You don’t have to.”

Looking around, briefly at their surroundings: white furnishings, carpeting, walls – gold accenting mostly, with hints of forest green among the well-kept plants and coming together along the counter outline of the desk – he feels wholly out of place. It was much too expensive for him, and if he ever were to be planning a wedding in the future, it likely would not be here.

He brings himself back to the conversation, “does she want me to?” referring to the bride in question, and Minho only shakes his head. “No, she doesn’t mind.”

“I’ll be with you in just a second!”

A woman’s voice calls from another room – back behind the desk they stand before. Beige envelopes and paperwork lightly strewn across it; it’s somewhat messy, but nothing completely unmanageable, and the phone begins to ring at that moment.

Chan hears the same voice that had just called to them curse lightly under it’s breath. He cracks a smile at the break in character, as it were.

It’s in that moment that he finally lays eyes on you – beige pant-suit and hair in a ponytail, pen in mouth as you fly around the corner and attempt to answer the phone with the item still snug between your teeth before you realize that that simply will not do, hurriedly tugging it from your lips and lightly tossing it on the desk in front of you. You look up to the party of three in front of you, waiting patiently, and smile.

“Just a second.”

“No problem, take your time,” the bride insists.

Chan can only watch on in awe, though.

It’s a relatively quick phone call, confirming an appointment for flower arrangement the following week and then it’s all eyes on the individuals in front of you. You look at the bride, the groom, and then Chan – quite obviously not the one getting married. Messy, wind-swept golden hair and beady brown eyes – but in jeans and a hoodie with a small spot on it that looks akin to a child who had accidentally spilled some sauce on himself and forgot to clean it up.

A little charming, due to the fact that he’s good looking. Turns out that can get one pretty far in and of itself.

“Right so,” you begin, taking a deep breath before continuing, “what can I do for you?”

Minho and his soon-to-be wife begin the discussions that they had gone there for, Chan listening on and truly as if he were playing the part of the son that had been dragged along for the ride due to no childcare being available. Your eyes can’t help but creep towards him every now and then – watching the way that he looks around the room, almost as if in awe of the sights – not that the interior was anything to call home about. You found it charming, his simple appreciation for…white, you supposed.

Calling for them to come into the back with you, the group sit at a table filled with thick binders with numerous labels atop them. Things like “reception,” “flowers,” “lighting,” anything that you could think of and even many that you hadn’t lined the table, and Chan considers for a second that maybe he won’t get married, after all.

He brings his attention to Minho, who happily dives into one of the binders – evidently delighted by the prospect of wedding planning. A complete disintegration from the stereotypical male response – the response that had just immediately come to Chan, himself.

He figures that maybe you have to be there, then.

“These are the more basic, common options up at the front on these pages, they’re labeled with this color,” you point out towards one of the binders displayed in front of Minho’s fiancee, “the further back, the more expensive and intricate the options become. It’s good if you have a budget in mind so that we can plan accordingly, of course.”

And of course, Chan is listening. Of course he is. But he can’t help but get lost in his own thoughts, as well as he watches you work. Taking notice of your smile and how pretty it is, the few loose strands of hair that have fallen away from the rest that lie bundled up into a tie at the back of your head. Chan watches your eyelashes when you blink and notices their length, and how pretty the color of your eyes are. Your earrings – expensive looking, hopefully not expensive in price, he thinks to himself as he loses himself in wishful imaginative thought – because if the two of you were to date, he wouldn’t be affording anything of the sort, and Chances are, that if they were expensive, then you wouldn’t be interested in dating him, anyways.

Chan had a habit of romantically getting ahead of himself, that much was evident.

“Chan?”

A sudden, vocal intrusion once again pulling him back to earth, it’s the sound of his best friends voice calling towards him. “You okay?”

“Oh,” he says, clearing his throat and sitting himself up in his chair properly. “Yeah, sorry, was spacing out. What’s up?”

“What do you think of this color? We need an outside opinion, that’s what you’re here for.”

Chan leans himself forward and out of his chair to look over the shoulders of the couple. Napkins. They forced him to stop fantasizing about dating the cute wedding planner for napkins.

Because obviously what he had been doing was of much more importance.

“Um, I like the lavender.”

“See, I think I like the pink, actually,” the fiancee replies.

“Keep in mind you don’t have to commit to anything today,” you remind them, “this visit is really only to get an idea of where we want to go, we’re not setting anything in stone.”

“Says you, I’m planning our own wedding,” Chan thinks to himself in response.

With pinks and roses decided among numerous other items, it’s a couple of hours later that the four of you bid farewell. You shake the hand of Minho, and the bride-to-be hugs you – much to your surprise, but with Chan, it’s a bit more awkward of a goodbye – due to the necessity of his being there in any capacity being up for discussion. However, you smile, thank them all for coming, and wish them well on their day.

Little do you know, however, the plans that the airhead friend have already set into motion.

According to him, of course.

The sound of the doorbell rings through the room as you look up from your paperwork in the back office. Gently pushing things aside in an attempt to find your schedule book, you gaze on in confusion to find that you have nothing on the agenda for this hour – and with the firm not taking walk-ins, you fail to guess what it could possibly be.

It does, however, make more sense upon finding out what the wind had blown in today.

“Hey!”

You’re shocked to find Chan standing at the door. Less the shock of it being him, and more the shock of him looking just as disheveled as he had the few days prior when you had met him. How could an adult man be so not put together, and especially on this side of town? It’s something you contemplate but only for a moment, as you are forced to address him now that he is presented before you.

“Uh, hey, so we don’t take walk-ins—“

“Oh no, it’s not like, a thing, I was just asked to drop by to relay some information.”

“Why you?”

“Was in the area.”

“You were in—“ and you pause, trying to think of a polite way to carry on with the thought, “—the area.”

Chan sort of realizes that the gig is up at that moment, in his shorts and his hoodie in twelve degree weather, and smiles gently. “Yeah.”

You roll your eyes, but motion for him to follow you into the back office with you nonetheless in order to take notes about whatever it is that he had gone there for – chuckling to yourself about the fact that he showed up to a very expensive office in winter, wearing shorts.

You don’t even want to do the soul searching it would take to figure out why you find that endearing, perhaps best left for therapy.

Sitting down in your chair, you pull out the file for the bride and groom in question and pick up a pen. “Has the client changed their mind about something we had discussed the other day?”

“Yeah,” Chan begins, but it’s slow, as he looks around and takes in the sights of the somewhat chaotic back office space that you call your own. You gently, playfully, call out a “hey” towards him to bring him back to the topic at hand. “Oh uhh, yeah, so instead of the pink, they decided on the lavender after all.”

“Interesting, your choice,” you respond.

“You remembered?”

Realizing what you had done, that you had, in fact, remembered what his input had been, you feel a bit of the heat of embarrassment rush into your ears – but attempt to play it cool.

“Of course, you were a part of the planning.”

He doesn’t respond, and only smiles down at you, shoulder holding him upright against the wooden frame of the doorway.

“And they decided on lilies instead of roses, also.”

“Good choice,” you answer, scribbling onto the paper in front of you and quickly penning something over the mark to replace it. “I preferred the lilies, myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Chan answers, and it’s so smooth it sounds as if he never said anything unusual at all.

You know he’s flirting with you, you simply choose to ignore it.

“Is there anything else?”

“No, just those two things.”

You stop, furrowing your brows in confusion and taking a moment to truly consider the oddity of the scenario before you. “Why…didn’t they just call me, why did they send you in person? These sorts of matters can be dealt with over the phone.”

But Chan merely shrugs and continues smiling at you. “Dunno, didn’t ask.”

You don’t take yourself for much of a detective, but figure it’s pretty simple to see what’s going on here. It’s cute, but you’re not interested.

You stand, motioning out towards the main lobby of the building and walk ahead of the man.

Chan takes it upon himself to view all of the ways in which you exist before him. Your hair, your eyes, your clothes.

Perhaps a moment where most men would objectify you, Chan is merely finding all of the intricate details, all of the little things – tiny ways in which he can talk himself into falling in love with you.

And you’re just trying to get the work day over with.

“I think if it were my wedding,” Chan begins, elbows on the desk and chin placed into his palms as you sit at your swivel chair and gently look up towards him as if he’s somewhat of an inconvenience to you. “I think, forest green and gold, a bit like this,” he says, pointing towards the detailing of the marble just under him. “What about you?”

“You think about wedding planning?” you can’t help but ask, unusual for a presumably straight man. You consider for a moment that you had been picking up all of the wrong vibes from him. Maybe he wasn’t into you, after all.

“Yeah, well,” and he pauses, thinking again, “well, truthfully, I hadn’t until the first day we all came here. I have been since then.”

“That’s cute.”

“So what about you?”

“I have work to do, if we’re done here,” you respond, ignoring his question entirely and instead meeting him with a tonally cheeky reply, avoiding eye contact as to not laugh.

“Answer me and I’ll leave then!” Chan whines in response, and you really wish you didn’t find this sort of behavior endearing in any way.

But you sigh in defeat, putting the pen that you had just picked up back down in a huff and looking up at him in gentle irritation, “fine.”

“Burgundy,” you start, pushing papers around to find a tablet of color swatches beneath them, and you point to a color on it with a freshly manicured nail. “Similar to this, more blue-toned. and then—“ you pause, pushing the present swatches aside in favor of different ones that you had located in the meantime. “Gold accenting, like this. And yellow roses.”

“Why yellow?”

“I just like them.”

Chan knows that he responds to you, although if you asked him just after he had left what he had said, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Instead, the man loses himself immediately in thoughts of a quickly developing crush. He watches your fingers dig through papers and point to colors – watches the way that your lips move with the words that you speak and the way the corners of them pull up when you talk about the things that you like in particular. It’s all in the way that you so matter of a factly say that you “just like” yellow roses – no other thoughts, no other reasoning. Just because.

Chan wonders if this is love – an absolutely, mind-numbingly, all-encompassing smittenness for another person that you barely know anything about. Juvenile and reckless and for all of the wrong reasons. Love at first sight. The honeymoon period that hasn’t even begun yet, and Chan was full-swing all the same.

And you wish it had been different for yourself – a child-like innocence to him that you found so charming and disarming in so many ways. a cute crush that surely would never develop past the phase in which it had already reached – you found yourself daydreaming about cute dates and picking out colors with him regardless, before shaking yourself out of it and returning back to your work.

bad idea, dating the clientele – even if only tangentially related as such.

“Hey.”

The smile on his face carries through the simple, verbal notion and you manage to pick up on it, even with all of the hustle and bustle going on around you.

That doesn’t stop him from having scared the shit out of you, though.

You watch Chan grin in response to your sudden yell and turn, “Jesus Christ,” escaping through your lips in exasperation and he still only carries a hopeful, happy curl of his lips.

“Bad time?”

The irony of the question being, of course, that he is asking it all the while you pick up the numerous sheets of paper, spools of lace, and other such items from the floor – items that had been suddenly relinquished from your grasp at the ill-timed intrusion of a man, a man not even getting married.

“Yes, you could say that—“ you respond, an attempt not to sound rude but perhaps failing ever so slightly. He was being irritating, after all. “—if we’re going to talk, then we’ve got to talk and walk,” you say, finally pulling everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder just before hurriedly rushing out from behind the desk and past the man before you – nearly dumbfounded in appearance at the way you move about in the middle of the day – even if for work. “I’ve got places to be, so make it quick.”

Rushing down the sidewalk, heeled shoes clattering against it, Chan watches in amazement at his inability to keep up. He wonders how you muster up the strength and ability to do this day in and day out – and with a smile on your face, at that.

“You need to take this,” you finally say to him, stopping only briefly enough to push some of the things in your hands, into his own. “Make yourself useful.”

“Happy to,“ he begins to respond, but only to watch as your back turns towards him again – ponytail in full swing, rushing back towards where ever it had been that you had been roped into stumbling towards.

Chan stops to smell the flowers – literally. As a few of varying different types had been thrown into his arms – but it’s quickly off to the races again, as to not disappoint.

And he can’t help but watch in complete, smitten, awe of you as you dart in and out of shops and doorways as you go. He never goes in with you – waiting patiently out front of where ever it is that you end up in the next moment, but he finds that he is never waiting long – that you work quickly. And he knows that he doesn’t know the workings of your job, your career, really at all, so maybe this is normal, but he smiles to himself at the way that the details of the situation don’t even really matter to him. Chan makes sure to watch you in a sort of make-shift slow motion that he crafts himself from scratch in the moment – capturing you and your essence and all of the things that he finds himself oh so quickly becoming enamored with, even just the way the wind some times catches your coat, it feels like a movie to him…the way his heart seemingly gets swept away in the same gust.

You step out of a building, as Chan is mid-thought, watching your every movement as he does. You don’t even notice it. Notice him. Not really.

He knows that.

Smiling, you bid the client farewell and give a sigh of relief towards the man that had aided you in your short, but fast-paced journey. “Thank you, sorry to make you—“

“Go out with me.”

The question arrives as a shocking on, albeit looking back on the situation, perhaps it should not have. You actually do give it some thought, as well – which in and of itself comes as a bit of a surprise to you, as well.

And you’re almost disappointed when you have to turn him down.

“Tonight, let’s get a drink.”

“Chan, that’s nice of you but—“ pausing briefly, you consider how to word the dismissal delicately…and sort of in a way to not shut down the possibility of going out in the future. “I have too much work to do tonight, and tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

You don’t want to talk to him like a child. Like someone to pity, but the refusal always finds a way to come out that way anyways. You watch Chan smile at you all the same, nodding to himself and simply saying “okay” as a response.

“You have a good night then, alright?” he adds, turning to head towards where home would be, and you’re not sure which part it is that’s yelling – the head or the heart – but one of them certainly is not being quiet about it’s desire to change it’s mind about the drink matter.

But you stand strong. There’s always more men.

“I will, you do the same.”

“I will.”

Chan loves watching you work. Hell, suffice it to say Chan fell in love watching you work. And perhaps it’s too much, too quick — something he tells himself from the logical part of his brain. You don’t even know her, dude. Which is true and he knows it, but the truth is that Chan has sort of taken it upon himself to fill in all of the blanks in the most shining, beautiful ways that he can. A man that lives on the precipice of a romantic comedy at all times — he’s always only been waiting for this moment. for someone like you. Someone to come in and sweep him off of his feet, as it were.

Just a hopeless romantic, that Bang Chan.

“Now’s not really the best time—“ you manage out towards him, mouth full of safety pins and fingers attempting to fumble through loads of white, shimmering fabric.

Dress fittings, the best part of the whole getting married gig, to some.

He doesn’t reply, carefully discarding himself from the doorway as to not be an obstruction physically in the same way that his presence is in every other way. He does smile, though. Halfway. A sly curly of the lip that you catch before pressing more pins into the bodice of your client.

Chan watches the whirlwind before him — feeling like the exaggerated display of floral lace and shiny shoes being tossed up and around like in the cartoons one sees when growing up weren’t actually that far from the truth — he smiles all the same, because he’s charmed by it all.

He especially takes note of your tied back hair and the way your jacket had been discarded probably long before he had arrived. How it appeared as though your day had already been a long one, despite it only being the early afternoon.

It’s the first time that Chan thinks to himself that you might really be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

But his attention is pulled back to reality, a woman gently leaning towards him and softly addressing him — as if she had known that his thoughts weren’t there with them at the time.

“Are you with the bride?”

Taken by surprise, Chan shakes his head — hands up in submission. “Oh, I’m with her!” he says, and points towards you as you continue diligently working on the fitting before you.

“Oh my God,” the client suddenly exclaims, turning towards him so suddenly that it sends you reeling. “You’re getting married, too!?”

Fuck sake.

“Wow, what a coincidence, huh?” the staff smiles towards Chan, before heading towards the small cooler behind the counter and pulling out a bottle of champagne. “We certainly have to celebrate this!”

It’s a roller coaster, for sure — and as hilariously charming the confusion is, Chan’s eyes can’t help but stay glued to your figure. Scanning your reaction. A chance you don’t hate this? A chance you might be willing to play along? Play pretend? Just for him, just for today?

The staff member comes back over to Chan without any time wasted, handing him a glass of bubbly gold liquid before sauntering over to you and handing you the same. Drinking is pretty strictly against the rules while on the job — except in situations where not drinking could cost you the job, of course. It’s up to your own discretion, case by case basis.

Suppose we’re pretending we’re getting married today. Just another check mark off of the list of completely insane things that the job every so often required of you.

Chan finally makes his way to the back and towards you, gently smiling — it says sorry that this happened, but it’s kind of fun, right? And you wish that you could deny him the pleasure of being right.

“So, have you started dress shopping yet?” the bride asks, eyes sparkling and excitement lacing her voice. You found it so lovable — the absolute delight that she seemed to receive from just the mere prospect that someone else might be just as happy as she was — who were you to ruin her day, then?

“N-no, not yet,” you stutter out, bashfully smiling towards Chan and then quickly away from him, because what the fuck? “I’m quite picky.”

You can see Chan trying to reign in the curl of the corners of his mouth at the response. He’s enjoying it way too much for your liking, possibly more than the client before you.

“You should try something on with me! Oh my God, please!” she gasps, grabbing at your free hand and shaking it gently. “Please! It would be so fun!”

“Oh, I—“ suddenly looking up towards Chan — full on smiling, now — and back at the client, you feel a bit outnumbered. “I shouldn’t, I’m working…”

“Yeah, for me!” she answers, hands on her hips in a playfully authoritative way, “so I think if I want you to try on a dress with me, that you should probably do it!”

It’s a mischievous threat, not backed by any actual ill-will, but you do have to consider any possible implications behind it — she is a big client, an expensive client.

You should probably just do what you’re told, right?

Running your hands down the front of the beaded bodice, it’s sort of an impulse to avoid your own reflection in the numerous, angled mirrors before you. Set up to show you every inch of yourself — you find irony in the fact that you wish to see none of it, because it feels wrong. It’s out of place, and not how you had dreamed your first dress try on to be — to appease a rich, pushy client and for a man that for all intents and purposes, you don’t even know. Playing dress up and pretend at your big age, it wasn’t the ideal outcome.

You hear the woman call out for you — indiscernible words that you know the meaning of all of the same. Hurry up, come out, become a spectacle. But you had already agreed, and the faster you begin, the faster it will end. You look up, finally making eye contact with yourself in the reflection, and your heart drops — but not for any of the aforementioned reasons you had expected. In a flash, all of your previous concerns simply melt away, just like that.

You looked beautiful. Ethereal.

And in the moment, you became painfully aware of all of the years that you had spent attending to the romantic wants and needs of everyone but yourself. Seeing yourself in the dress became an acutely stark reminder that maybe — just maybe — it was time to allow yourself to focus on you.

And despite barely knowing the man before you, watching the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you as you gently strolled into the room — as if he had never seen a sight more beautiful in his life — you think to yourself that if this guy can look at you this way, then imagine the way that someone who loved you would look at you.

Irony.

A few hours later into the evening, the sun setting and air cooling, the four of you say your goodbyes as the staff locks up the shop and the client joyfully heads off and on her way. When only the two of you are left — you and Chan — you let go a heavy sigh of relief, one that feels as though it had made a happy home in your chest, never to be evicted or removed in any way.

“What a horrifically stressful day,” you start, as to set the tone of the conversation and not let the man before you get any ideas that you may have actually enjoyed any part of the goings on of the day. “But she was happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Is that so?” Chan replies, a hint of doubt in his tone. “You really hated it that much? You looked pretty.”

The compliment sends heat rushing to your face. Since when was that a side effect of engaging with this gentleman?

“I guess it’s good that you played along,” you say, pulling your messy ponytail out and beginning to put it back up into a more well-maintained one. “It’ll be a really positive memory for her, and that’s my job, after all.”

Chan simply watches you, taking in every moment as if it’ll be the last because really, who knows.

“Anyways, since she was so happy, if you don’t have anything going on tonight—“

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you respond in a playful-yell, slapping at his arm, but Chan only laughs.

“I do know what you were going to say! You were going to ask me out! I said yes!”

“I wasn’t going to ask you out!” you quip, slightly embarrassed by how transparent you had seemingly been. “I was going to agree to going out with you, since you had asked me before, they’re different things, actually.”

“Ah, I see,” Chan replies, only playing along with your asinine explanation but not willing to push it any further because in the end — he was getting precisely what it was that he had wanted all along. “Well in that case, I know just the place.”

Only a few blocks down the street and a quick right, Chan stops and holds his hand out as if you usher you ahead of him. Gray, stone steps trailing down into what appears to be a basement, hole in the wall type establishment — you’re almost a little concerned. This is an upper class area of the city, and this is where he takes you? And it’s as if the man just behind you is capable of reading your mind, chiming out “just trust me, you’ll like it.”

You open the door, holding it for him to follow, and the dimly lit atmosphere almost sweeps you just off your feet. A beautiful, antique adorned establishment, decorated as if to appeal to numerous generations before; but in the most swanky, high class, way. The type of surroundings that just about anyone from any walk of life could find charm in.

So shocked, you forget that you had stopped to take in the sights.

“Come on, let’s not linger in the doorway,” Chan says as he passes, cheeky-toned and knowing that he had caught you.

Shrugging your coat off, you hang it on the rack and take a seat next to him at the bar. Drinks are ordered and quickly served due to it not being a busy night, and Chan wastes no time getting into the nitty-gritty of what it was he was interested in: you. Everything about you. Where you’re from, where you live now, where you went to school and what you studied and your hobbies — it’s all things that he, of course, has a genuine interest in — but that doesn’t change the fact that they are but stepping stones to the meat and potatoes of what it was that he really wanted to know.

Your relationship status. Are you single. Are you looking. Are you open to the possibility of falling in love, and not just with anyone, but with him, specifically.

Although, perhaps he would not be one to lean so hard into the tail end of the obvious.

“Truth is,” you begin, shimmering glass of red wine pressed delicately to your already stained-red lips. “I’ve been single for a while. Sort of on purpose, I suppose. I wanted to focus on work and really get my career going for a while before I put time and effort into adding another person into my life.”

“Is that serving you?” Chan questions, his own glass mirroring yours against his mouth.

You pause for a moment to consider the answer — remembering how you felt in that fleeting moment back at the dress shop, seeing yourself in that dress. Was it serving you?

“Yeah, I think so,” you finally answer in an accompanying nod, “I think it’s important to be able to be happy by oneself before attempting cohabitation of some sort.”

And Chan chuckles in response, much to your surprise. “'Cohabitation’ makes it sound so clinical, like the concept of dating someone is a science experiment.”

“Isn’t it sort of?”

“Yeah, suppose it is, in ways.”

“What about you?”

And now he pauses, thinking himself through the slew of potential replies that bounce through his mind in an instant — some more insane than others, admittedly.

“Happily single, but always open to the possibility.”

“I think that’s a good way to look at it.”

Chan takes a slow sip from his glass and eyes you intently, as if trying to gauge your interest in his answers based purely off of a single, minute, change in facial expression. Hell, he wanted it so bad he was willing to make it up himself.

It’s the gentle curly of your lip at his reply that catches him off guard — burned into his memory forever and always — or at least until a moment were to come that the two of you would have made enough memories together that such an insignificant one need not be held onto for so long anymore.

Drink glasses emptied and coats slung back over shoulders, the two of you head back out and onto the chilled sidewalk to head your own separate ways. You can’t help but take notice of the way Chan looks at you — eyes shining in the florescence of the street lamp just behind you — the first time that you acknowledge to yourself that you think he is handsome, as well as the first time you acknowledge that feeling in your chest that you get when he happens to come around.

It’s a bad time.

“Look, I had a nice time but—“

Chan rolls his eyes in response already, and you haven’t even finished the sentence.

“What? You’re a client…kind of.”

“I’m not, and on top of that, I can assure you that they would not care at all! They’d probably think it was cute, actually. I’m sure Minho would already have so many stories to tell at our wedding from the first consultation.”

“Well that’s not reassuring,” you snort, “telling me I was already so memorably unprofessional from the beginning, huh?”

“Only in my eyes, don’t worry, they loved you.”

“Chan!”

“Come on, I’m kidding,” he replies again, “it’s not a big deal, they wouldn’t think anything of it. You’re making it into a bigger deal than it would be in your head.”

You know that that is likely the case. You also know that it’s just so easy to say one thing — like that one is ever so willing to look for love — and then construct the simplest walls given to you to avoid it at all costs.

The two of you still in silence for a moment, as if in a stand-off of sorts, but you more than capable of breaking the silence and constructing just one more wall — for good measure, of course.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say, with finality. “Thank you for tonight, I had a nice time.”

Chan thinks to himself as he watches you walk away, that if it were any other woman, in any other circumstance, he would have already live and let live. That even in watching the way you turn him down and walk away, that you’re still simply the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Musing about every word that you said and the way in which you said it — how your glass of red wine stained your lips just the perfect amount that it made it nearly unbearable to not kiss them, how pretty your hands looked around the wine glass and how cute your smile was every time he said something that — purposefully, of course — you found mildly irritating.

Making his way to his empty apartment again, and standing just outside, Chan knows that there is progress made.

But what are you running from?

When you hear the jingling of the front door, and look down to your planner to find nothing having been scheduled for that time, you know that trouble is awaiting you in the lobby — trouble in the form of a kinda beefy, 171cm handsome gentleman by the name of Bang Chan.

Eh, suppose things could always be worse.

Lazily buttoning the deep maroon button of your vest as to look presentable, you look up and lock eyes with him as you come around the bend and into the front of the establishment. Chan — in all of his glory — a fitting pair of jeans for once and a shirt to match, you’re a little surprised. Had he made the effort all for you? Charming, if not for the fact that you told him you weren’t going to date him only a week prior to now.

Some men have a problem taking ‘no’ for an answer, unfortunately, sometimes it’s kind of charming when that’s the case, as well.

“Honey, I’m home!” Chan chimes, and you roll your eyes as you make your way to the front desk and seat yourself down.

“Yes Chan? Can I help you?”

“Always.”

“With something involving my job in some capacity.”

“Oh, right, that!” he answers. You know that he knows what you mean, he’s always just doing his utmost to be as much of a problem as possible. You’re not happy about how charming you find that, either.

“So, rehearsal dinner is in two weeks, on Thursday.”

“I know that, it’s my job to know that, I already talked to the bride two days ago.”

“Well I’m not here to tell you about it, I’m here to ask you to be my date to it.”

The brazen admission takes you off guard. It wasn’t really the first time Chan had ever asked you out, but this felt…different. Perhaps because of the night at the bar not too long prior.

You weren’t particularly fond of the way it made your stomach flip, either.

“I’ll be there, but for work, not for fun.”

“For pleasure, I think is how they call it,” he corrects, and you’re not proud of what the implications of that do to your mind.

You clear your throat, Chan watching all the while with a grin, and avoiding eye contact altogether, you stand again — pulling some items from the counter top into your arms and heading into the back from where you came.

“Right, well,” you say, attempting to play off how flustered you’ve now become in his incredibly flirtatious presence. “I have work to get back to, so, I will see you at the rehearsal — because it is my job and I suppose that you will also be there.”

With a smile on his face and eyes never leaving your form, before you’re able to scurry off to freedom, one last thing leaves his lips — because of course it does.

“Do a little something nice with your hair, it’s an occasion, isn’t it?”

You had never felt the need to keep a pillow to scream into in the back end of your office prior, but perhaps now were as good a time as any to invest.

On rehearsal night, catching your reflection in one of the mirrors of the wedding venue, you sort of wish that you had been a stronger person. You wonder how it was, exactly, that this man that you truly, barely knew, had managed to wear down your resolve in such a way that you were playing dress up for him. No, your attire not different than a typical work day — you were still on the clock, after all.

But your hair. And you can’t stand the way Chan looks to the floor with a smile when he first catches glance of you. Well, can’t stand it, and also sort of adore it.

“So, the brides mother, father, and sister we’re thinking of having here — but if there’s something that I’m missing, let me know so I can arrange it in a way that—“

“Hey there.”

Frozen in place, you don’t have to turn to check who it is anymore, and meeting eyes with the catering planner you had been speaking to, you smile gently before motioning that you need a moment, and turning towards Chan. “I’m working, can you give me a moment?”

“We need you to sit in for rehearsal, we’re missing someone.”

“Absolutely not, are you crazy?”

“Come on, you only have to pretend you have a crush on me, you don’t really have to have one.”

Turning back to the caterer in an instant, you insist that you’ll email the finalized plans over to him right away in the morning before finishing your conversation with Chan.

“If you keep interrupting me at work, I might not have a crush on you, real or make believe.”

“I think it’ll take more than that,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and nodding his head over towards the table, “now get over here and pretend you’re in love with me.”

It’s sort of sick, how easy it is for him to talk you into it. All of it. Any of it.

When the seating plan goes smoothly, and all of the wedding participants stand to take in slow views of the rest of the venue ahead of the big day, as you finish off some notes, Chan saunters over towards you with two glasses of wine in hand. “Come out with me?”

Stepping out and onto the large, white stoned balcony, you sigh in relief at how smooth the night had gone. You explain to Chan that — even in spite of having done the job for years, there’s always parts of every new client experience that feel brand new, that you feel as though you’ve never done before. Chan gazes on intently as he watches you speak with vigor, with self-respect, and with love and adoration for yourself. He thinks, in that moment, it might truly be the sexiest thing about you — at least, thus far.

When the gentle wind blows your lightly curled hair to one side and sends a shiver down your spine, Chan reaches out and pulls you towards him — into his warm embrace.

“It’s still chilly this time of year, yeah?” he says, and it’s almost a whisper. Perhaps the quietest you think you’ve ever heard him.

You opt out of responding verbally, and silently enjoy the warmth the man brings to you.

“Hey,” he says again, suddenly, and pulling you from him ever so slightly. Again, you choose not to reply, assuming that there were to be more words following up such a statement.

But you were soon to find that to not be the case — as Chan leans down and into you, plush lips gently pressing into your own.

The warmest you had felt all evening, you think to yourself — and perhaps interested in more where that came from, after all.

A short drive in Chan’s car lands the both of you in front of your apartment building — a gentleman, having offered his services of bringing you home in one piece — albeit, the thoughts of being torn apart by him figuratively becoming more and more of interest to you as the moments near him pass. Surely, one glass of wine wasn’t enough to throw all caution to the wind.

Unless…?

“Can I walk you up?”

Grabbing your belongings from the floor of the front seat, you chuckle. “Not much to walk, my building has an elevator.”

“Wow, fancy,” he replies smugly. “Didn’t know you had elevator-money in this sort of economy.”

“Go to Hell, yes you can walk me up, sheesh.”

His playfulness was what really had you, and you hated to see it. Broken down by the childlike innocence and joy of someone who was becoming more intriguing, more desirable, and more sexually attractive by the second. Truly, what had happened to your resolve?

Manicured finger pressed into the up arrow button, the elevator is silenced completely — no indication of it ever having registered the button being pressed at all. You press it again, and still nothing.

You sigh.

“Broken?” he says.

“Probably just asleep,” you quip back, “yes it’s broken. Have to take the stairs I suppose — you don’t have to come, I live on the fourth floor, I’m sure I can make it.”

“Better safe than sorry, really.”

Rolling your eyes, the both of you head towards the stairwell — all the while you hoping the slamming beating of your heart against your chest won’t reverberate through the echoing halls of the winding concrete cave that you are about to enter.

Floors two and three go without a hitch — well, mostly. It’s between three and four, that you realize there was never any Chance of you getting out of this stairwell unscathed. Or un-somethinged, at least.

He had plans all along.

“Hey,” Chan quietly calls towards you from behind, a hand reaching out and snatching your wrist from behind. It’s gentle, but enough to have you stumbling ever so slightly. He catches you — turning and pressing your back against the cold, white, wall — and them himself even harder against you.

Hot breath ghosting against the skin of your face, Chan’s lips fail to make contact with your own — instead opting to press into your jaw, and then your neck — and not without the direct contact of his hard thigh wedged into the apex of your own.

You’re a little ashamed of how little it took for him to pull from you a verbal response. It wasn’t much, but a breathy whine all the same — and you can feel the curling of his lips against you in affirmation that he had, in fact, heard it.

“I want you,” he whispers into your flesh, and the admission makes you dizzy with desire, pressing yourself down and against his leg for friction even more — as if to say that you felt the same way.

“Do you want me?” he follows up, mildly irritated at the fact that he’s asking, given the physical cues, but you still manage the breathy “yes” that he had been waiting oh so long for.

Chan thinks that it sounds so much better than he had ever even imagined it would. Unfortunate that this was not to be the time nor the place.

Pulling away, the loss of body against your own leaves you confused and frazzled — chest heaving and eyebrows furrowed, but you choose not to speak, because surely he would.

Because what the fuck?

And right on cue, “not now, I mean—“ he pauses, looking down at the tenting in his own pants and adjusting as for it to be not as obvious in the case of running into other people. “Not here, or now.”

“My apartment is right there—“

“I know,” he nods, “trust me, I want to — obviously — but I like you, so—“

“You can’t have sex with someone you like? Are you one of those Madonna-whore type guys? I knew there had to be something wrong with you.” You spiral off, adjusting your pants and trying to gather yourself properly. Chan merely laughs in response for a moment.

“No, it’s nothing like that, I’m perfectly capable of fucking you,” he answers clearly, and with decisiveness. “And I will, presumably. But let’s get to know each other a bit more first, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you exclaim, a little annoyed at the games that Chan seemingly loves to play with you, and yet, willing to continue playing them on his terms all the same. “Fine, I guess I’ll get to know you or whatever.” Playful sarcasm dripping from the tail end of your response.

He laughs, gentle smile taking his features — and in his mind, all of the ways he plans to have you when the time is right.

When Chan shows up to your place of employment only three days later, it’s bad timing. The truth of the matter, is that it’s always bad timing, that’s the nature of a fast paced job such as your own, though. Shoving items into a bag and slinging it over your shoulder — followed by desperately trying to free your ponytail from the confines of the sling as you run towards the door, you only manage out with a “let’s go, move, move!” as you rush past the man in the doorway.

By now, Chan knows better than to ask very many questions. He’s quick on the uptake. He knows what he may sign up for upon arrival. Today? A handful of miscellaneous binders — sticky notes and fabrics sticking out of the tops, bottoms and sides of them.

“Already comfortable with bossing me around, huh?” he says, a brisk stride catching him up to you on the sidewalk as the both of you hustle down the concrete path.

“You know how it is,” you say, “if you’re gonna be here then I’m gonna put you to work.”

“I kind of like it,” flirtation lacing his voice. “Being told what to do by a beautiful woman definitely isn’t the worst way to spend the day.”

“That’s what you like? I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Maybe, can’t give everything away on the first date, I’m not easy.”

“So I noticed.”

You take notice of how easy it is now to engage in these types of conversations with him. Cute, curly blonde hair flowing in the breeze as you both run-walk towards the destination a couple of blocks away — you’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a charm point — his absolute willingness to go above and beyond already. Carry things. Help you at work. Hell, he had sort of already showed up for you better than a lot of the guys you had dated in the past.

And now the flirting — playfully toying with each other in tone and topic that borders, if not fully crosses, the line of appropriateness — especially with you being on the clock.

Not that anyone is with the two of you to monitor the conversation. Or know that he took you home the other night. Or any of the other misdoings of that particular evening.

“Place is up here, did you come by for a reason or do you have a sixth sense for when I need help carrying things?” you ask, finally slowing down when the time on your phone insists that you have perhaps a minute or two to spare extra.

“Yeah, actually—“ he starts, slowing down next to you and stopping to face. “I wanted to ask you to be my date to the wedding.”

And you’re floored. That’s your immediate, gut, response anyways, but the more you grant a second to it, the more unsurprising you become.

He either genuinely does not understand how your job works and what proper boundaries are, or he just truly does not care. You’re fairly certain you know which it is.

“Chan, I’m working the event—“

“No, I know!” he interrupts suddenly, and for the first time it appears as though he had actually put some thought into it, and the inappropriateness of such a situation. “It can be our little secret. Just between us two.”

Looking down at your phone to check the time, and following it with an exhausted sigh, you roll your eyes. “Then what’s even the point?”

One corner of Chan’s mouth pulls up, and now you know he put thought into this. Which may or may not be advised, after all.

“The real fun would be after the event, obviously.”

Visually, you give off no tells, that of which you’re sure, but inside? Screaming, at the top of your lungs.

You’re not entirely sure if he means sex, or a date, or sex and a date or what he means at all. A man with something sly constantly up his sleeve, you simply had to assume: all of the above.

And so, you agree.

Weeks pass, and you’re surprised by the fact that when the night of the wedding comes around, Chan is actually no where to be found all of the time prior. The man that could not resist the urge to bother you at work, suddenly ghosting you? Were you being ghosted? Did he lose interest? Perhaps the allure of sleeping with the cute wedding planner had worn off all just before the big night itself. Tragic, you think to yourself, you didn’t even get to sleep with him, after all.

But when he meets you for the first time at the reception near the open bar — a smooth hand brushing the small of your back — so brief that no one nearby would ever catch it, the glimmer in his eye is enough to let you know that the plan is, in fact, still on.

And through the sound of a private bathroom door slamming against the wall, and your back up against it — met once again with the enticingly crushing weight of him against you as his mouth meets your own in fervent, needy kisses — you forget why you thought it was ever off anyways.

“W-we have to go back out there, Chan—“ you manage out between mouths and gasps of breath, fingers curled into the white coat of his blazer. “You wore white? That’s so tacky.”

“Not my choice, bride wanted it,” he answers back in similar neediness and much more expressed disinterest in the topic. “I want you.”

“Last time you said that—“ and Chan kisses you on the mouth hard again. “—last time you said that you didn’t do anything about it.”

“And I can’t again, not yet anyways.”

“Not into exhibitionism?”

“I don’t perform well under pressure.”

You laugh as he pulls away from you, allowing you to straighten yourself up to go back out into the public eye. “You’d be terrible at my job.”

“I know, just the most soft-dicked wedding planner ever, it’d be humiliating,” Chan chuckles, leaning back to check himself in the mirror as well before reaching forward and placing his hand on the door knob. “Good?”

“Good.”

As the reception carries on, you stand back to watch from a distance — available when necessary but for the most part, out of the way. For all intents and purposes, the large portion of your job was finished. The clients were happy, and the night a beautiful one — dimly lit fairy lights and silver plating along white, linen tables. You watch as Minho and his bride share a dance together, smiling into one another's eyes. Truly and madly in love.

A moment later, you catch Chan’s from across the room — a look held in time longer than it would typically be held. You feel it in your chest more than anything, and more than that, you’re hopeful that he might be catching the same.

When the night festivities finally come to a close — shaking more hands than you remember ever having mingled with in all of your time working with the client, Chan finally makes his way over towards you as the crowd dissipates — two glasses of wine just as he had offered on the rehearsal night, and you grin at him knowingly.

“Remember what happened the last time I had a glass of wine on the terrace with you?”

“Nothing much, as far as my recollection goes.”

Following him out and looking out towards the view, a breeze passes by the both of you — warmer than the last time, inviting, almost. Your gaze pulls from the trees and the buildings before you and towards the man next to you — handsome and charming and seemingly full of love and passion.

Had he…all of the things that you were looking for in a man?

Feeling your piercing gaze, he turns towards you — ashamed at your gawking, you chuckle lightly and bring your wine glass to your lips, but Chan only smiles in adoration of you.

Inhaling, Chan begins to speak.

“I’m not going to sleep with you—“

It’s sudden, and sends Chan visibly reeling — so much so that you feel the need to amend the statement in earnest.

“What I mean is like, like a one night stand…hook-up sort of thing.“

Eyebrows gently furrowing, Chan remains silent as he watches you talk through your thoughts in real time, not wanting to interrupt where ever it was that you were intending on going with this.

“I— I have feelings, so,” you stutter out, avoiding direct eye contact and instead, choosing to speak to the golden liquid in your glass. “So I don’t think it’s a good idea, is all. Sorry.”

Silence takes the balcony briefly. Seconds that feel like years to you, but in real time, Chan responds quite immediately. To that, you are thankful.

“What? Of course I’m interested in you. I’ve always been interested in you,” he says, “I don’t carry around binders full of color swatches just for any ol’ woman I want to sleep with, are you kidding me?”

“Chan shut up! I’m being serious!”

“I know, I know—“ he giggles, avoiding your playful slap to his arm. “I am, too. I’m serious.”

And taking a step forward, Chan leans down into you once again. It’s not the first kiss that the two of you have shared, and hell, not even of the night.

But it was different. It was new in all of the ways that love is and can be. The blossoming feeling of being seen and held by the one person that you wish to perceive you.

Walking back inside as the catering staff begin cleaning up the remains of the evening, Chan turns to you and takes a deep breath, as if somewhat insecure about where to go now.

“So,” he begins, the word exhaled through his mouth as if attempting to mask it to be as unheard as possible. “Want to come back to my place, then?”

You look at him with feigned surprise before replying, “aww, look at you. You look so shy now. What happened to tough guy in the bathroom a few hours back?”

“Tough guy has to perform now, if you say yes. Remember what I said about pressure?” Chan laughs in response.

You lean in to whisper, as to not allow any passerby into your banter. “Are you warning me of something?”

“Doubtful, but imagine how good it’s going to be if you go in with low expectations.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Turning off his car, you take a deep breath before grabbing your bags and moving towards crawling out of the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Nervous?” he asks. It’s obvious, after all.

“A little, I guess? Kind of silly since I’m a grown woman.”

“Not really, pretty normal,” he says, opening the car door and ushering himself out as well. “On the bright side, you don’t have to climb any flights of stairs, my building elevator works.”

“Elevator? After everything you said about mine! Jerk.”

Finally stepping foot into the mans apartment, you realize in the moment that you had never given even an inkling of a thought to what it would look like prior.

Nice furnishings, a clean kitchen area, and a bed that’s made — despite a relatively small apartment, it was well kept, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that he weren’t a single man at all.

“Want anything to drink?” he asks from behind you, rustling around with keys and coats by the door. You hum in response that you don’t need anything.

The next thing you know, you’re being hauled off towards the bedroom, in a set of arms much more muscular than you ever remember them being.

Dropping you back first onto the mattress, Chan wastes no timing climbing up the length of your body and nestling himself between your legs — mouths making contact yet again, and more needy than ever before — Chan only stops long enough to pull his own shirt off and over his head, thrown across his bedroom before settling back down and against you.

It lasts only momentarily, however — the heat of the moment quickly over taking him as he becomes acutely aware of how much clothing you are wearing and how much he desperately does not want that to be the case. Ushering himself up and onto his knees, he begins fingering at the buttons of your blouse, and smiles as your own hands reach down towards the buttons of your slacks.

“Can I take this off?” Chan asks hurriedly, already gently pulling you up and off of the mattress as if he anticipates the affirmative response. He receives it, of course, and slings the fabric along with the previously discarded of his own.

“In a rush?” you giggle, lying back down and watching his hands work in a rush against all of the confines keeping the distance between his skin and your own intact.

“A little bit, should I slow down?”

“No, it’s okay, we have more time for slowing down in the future.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Chan responds, motioning himself in reverse to create space to pull your pants from your legs. “That reminds me though, be my girlfriend?”

“You’re asking me now?” you laugh, the only clothing remaining on your body a pair of panties.

“Should I wait until i’m in?”

“You should shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a 'yes’ then.”

Chan makes fast work of his own jeans, kicking them along with his boxer briefs off before climbing back onto the bed, and you realize that you’re staring.

And unfortunately, that he notices, too. A cheeky grin, followed by a bright redness to his ears. It’s not often that you see him shy, but you can’t help but enjoy the sight.

Well, both sights.

Reaching down and hooking fingers into the remaining fabric, he pulls them from you and wastes no time pressing two fingers against — and then into you. A dull stretch, relieving in a sense — the feeling that this is finally going to happen, and apparently you had desired it much more than you had thought going in.

Chan leans down, pressing his mouth against yours only to trail his lips down your jaw, up and over towards your ear. Gently pressing his hand into you, you exhale a whiny — and you can hear the way it makes his own breath hitch.

“I want you,” he whispers into you, and if not for the fact that you knew it would finally happen, you might be annoyed by the admission.

“Please,” is all you can groan out, but thankfully, it’s all that he needs.

Pulling back and off of you again, Chan leans over to his dresser, opening the small wooden drawer and fishing out a plastic packet before ripping it open with his teeth and gently motioning it along himself.

As Chan leans back down into you, you feel the beginning of his gentle intrusion — guided by his hand in the beginning, then by the sharp inhale of your breath at the stretch. Forearms flat against the mattress on either side of your head, biting into your lip and eyes screwed shut — Chan groans under his breath as he presses himself all of the way into you, fully buried in your warm, wetness.

“God—“ he exhales into your mouth, you swallow it down happily, his admission of submission to you. “You feel amazing.”

“You feel—“ you begin, feeling as though it necessary of you to meet him halfway in the discussion. After all, no one likes to be left hanging all alone. But it’s the slow, drag of his pull out, followed by another velvety push inside that catches the words in your throat and only allows them out in the form of a groaned out “fuck.”

Only a few more strokes before Chan is able to get his head screwed on properly again — enough to make use of himself at least — and settles into a slow, strong pace against you. Bringing a hand up, he finds your hair and wraps fingers into it — not pulling, but as if you keep you grounded, keep you in place for him — for the both of you, in a way.

“Ch-Chan, I—“ you whisper against his cheek, voice shaky and seemingly already fucked out.

He snaps his attention to, albeit a bit surprised by the fact. “Already?”

You nod quickly. Followed by a sigh of relief from him.

“Oh thank God, I'm so cl-close—“

Digging your nails into his strong shoulders, you feel your abdomen tighten in impending release, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s pulling it from you — teeth gritted hard, unsure about the potential of a noise complaint from any neighboring people and not wanting to risk it — you groan loudly into the flesh of his arm, only causing him to meet you the same — three, four especially hard, rough pounds against you before he’s clenching his eyes shut and emptying into the barrier between you.

Rolling off of you to lie in next, chests heaving even in spite of the short session, Chan tosses his arm across his face and chuckles to himself after only a minute or two of silence between you.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for weeks.”

You giggle, snuggling up towards him. “Yeah? I could tell.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” he snaps back, bringing his closest arm to you up and around you. “Give me time, it’s been a while, alright?”

Tying off the condom eventually and getting up for glasses of water, he hands you one as the both of you sit at the edge of the bed.

“Burgundy and gold, right?”

The sudden thought catches you off guard, because what does that have to do with anything?

“Wh-what—?”

“Your wedding colors, burgundy and gold, was it?”

And now you’re really caught off guard, because he…remembered that?

“Yes, how do you remember that?”

You watch him smile, looking down into his glass of water before turning back towards you with his grin never diminishing. Chan leans in and kisses you on the forehead delicately before answering the question.

“Gonna be important,” he begins, “can’t hire you to work your own event, now can I?”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

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rnakamura22 · 1 year ago

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When they heard that you found your way home

Random　Characters

Prefect is female! Yandere vibes! Her name is Yu!

Malleus　Dragonia

Oh, Don't mind the sky getting pitch-black and thunder striking down rapidly! What? Flying classes got canceled? You saw Jack and Epel were totally soaked? Where are you even looking? Another man? That’s unacceptable!

You’re his first friend and crush! To him, you are like the first sunshine of spring! A beautiful blue butterfly in the meadow flying above the flowers! A gem more precious than any treasure he has! And now you’re just dumping him? Nuh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen! He’s one of the most powerful magicians in the world, so it takes no more than a flip of his hand to crush any form of way back home. He could lock you up in his room, mess with your body, destroy any form of mirror, etc. Hey, this was gonna happen one way or another since he already decided for the future Queen of the valley long ago(AKA when he met you).While he locks you up in his Diasomnia room, he could happily come and discuss the wedding plans. He already decided on the crown by the way, but he made a promise to discuss the dress colors with you since taking your opinion into account is necessary. Lila would be teary eyed of Malleus’s growth. You have no choice to accept your fate since even if you escape, he will come searching for you. After all, can a mere human win against a loving dragon?

Lilia Vanrouge

This 700 year old vampire fairy has more knowledge and experience than any of the villains. He thought his love ended with Malleus’s mom. But then, you came along. A cute little innocent human who only lived about a little percentage of his life! You are like a baby! You’re too young to survive out there! What if your way back home never worked! What if some thing got messed up? No, you need to be in the world safe and sound! He will protect you! He still has feelings about the age gap though. I mean, what happens in family day at school with your future children? Well, not to worry! As for making you stay, just break a few mirrors or take out any bad memories! He needs to look out for his juniors after all! He won’t break you, but he will punish you if you disobey. Fairies are possessive. Blame your own luck for shooting the heart of the vampire fairy.

Rook Hunt

At first, he seems happy for you! A lost deer should run back to her herd as quick as possible. But you forgot he’s a hunter. And a skilled hunter like him NEVER fails.

He casts his unique magic on you as you are about to leave. A part of him wishes for your happiness, but he couldn’t help it. A large part of him couldn’t forgive you. The most valuable prey were about to outrun him. He could never accept that. His magic will find you. Wherever you go, however you try to escape, the chase continues. Until you give up your world and return with him, they would be absolutely no peace.

Epel Felmier

(Anyone else love peel’s smug VILLAN faces from the ghost bride?)

Epel acts happy but inside, he’s devastated. He wanted to visit his home village again just the two of you. He knows he’s got competition when it came to you, and it was all for nothing. Well, he ain’t admitting that, that’s for sure.

From that day on, with the help of Vill and Rook, he creates a special gift for you. An apple red as the roses. A glittering poison apple just like the Beautiful Queen of his dorm created. To trap you, his one and only Snow White. He still wants to have fun with you and the first years. He wants to graduate with you. You gave him courage, and made him happy. He wants to return you with his own thankful emotions. #Yeah, Right.

On the day you were going to leave, he comes up to you and thanks you, than he says the magic words.

“Prefect…I want to give you something. Please have a bite. It’s a special apple I picked. It’s the most delicious apple I harvested and the most beautiful one! I cared for it so much!”

Epel now understands what Vil said for so long. His cuteness can become a weapon. Look at your eyes! You melt for his cuteness, and bites the apple without thinking twice, I mean, who can resist his cuteness. Instantly, you fall unconscious.

“Whoah!? That was close… but now you can be with us forever Yu! Snow White won’t hold a candle to you…. Let’s graduate together Ok? And we can be together forever…”

He’s a poisoned apple, what would you except? As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

Sebek Zigvolt

Ah, he says like 90% of the time about how fairies are better than humans, but for you, it’s an exception. He might not show it, but he cares a lot about you. He’s a tsundere after all.(No, you cannnot tell me otherwise) But he blames you for dumping him and making him feel bad.(AKA you two are not dating)

“This is your own fault human, you made me fall to your schemes and now you’re throwing it all away? Unacceptable!”

He may not show it, but he enjoyed school life with you and the other humans of his grade. He wants to live with you at the valley of Thorns. But your comment of going back to your world snaps something.

Better run away because lightning bolts are coming down in 10 seconds to smash that mirror. He will not let you go. And is you disobey…say goodbye to your eardrums and your freedom.

Silver

(Anyone else love this Silver’s face? I believe Silver can be a villain too, you won’t change my mind)

He is SHOCKED with a capital S. He’s a human, but raised by Lilia and fairies so he has fairy values and they may be SLIGHTLY different from humans especially about love.

He wants to be with you after graduation. He already planned a few preparations so you won’t be getting away.

Before you go, he casts his unique magic on you to appear in your dreams as a dashing prince. Saving you, chasing you, maybe choking you a little bit. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Convincing that your world is horrible and terrible, and you should come back to Twisted Wonderland and live with him. Silver is a prince, and you are his princess. To him, the bad witch is your world. After all, he needs to defeat the bad witch to save his one and only princess. Than he can live happily ever after.

#yandere twisted wonderland #malleus x reader #female reader #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #lilia x reader #rook hunt #rook x reader #epel felmier #epel x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek x reader #yandere silver x reader twst

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afsosville · 6 months ago

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Listen, ik BingJiu is basically a breeding ground for dead doves but ISTFG that this fandom is just not seeing things the way I do. And so here I am spreading the soft BingJiu agenda coz they both need to be honestly and wholeheartedly loved so fuck canon just let them love each other PLEASE.

Anyways, does anyone have cute BingJiu recs? I can't seem to find anymore so I'm here now lol. Here's all the ones ik:

Lost my heart to you (there in the dark, under the stars) by Saccharinings

You are not alone, not anymore and Goodbye, my past reality by Elis98

Unconventional Baby Trapping and The Father-In-Law is Unknowingly the Bride? I Must Train Hard to Become Best Husband! by Munyusz

Bamboo, fire, and ink by Draconili

Ghost SJ by Unknown103User

Once upon a winter morning by NazakiSama166

Do I really need to give you away...? by Ivy_Aishi

Have a nice day! by Ehann

An easy lie by Nythtak

Rustling leaves by Jeejaschocolate

Two lilies blackened, two lilies grey by Texturralize

Honestly, it's like you've never seen a man and his demon before by Anon

My little baozi and Shen Jiu's options by Airei

Puppy love need not be temporary by Myakachan

Finding home in you and A lifetime with you by Shorimochi

Responsibility by Anon

I have no time for confession | for I'm too busy committing sins by Space_Samurai

Being a girl is great by Anon

When does a ripple become a tidal wave? and Falling, Falling, Falling for You by The_Binding

Unfinished business by Kitsunealyc

The faces you forgot by Probablyaceok

Melodies of the Heart and The Innocence of Spring Blossoms by CrazyNekoChan

Spite my way to happiness by Misto713

How to keep my favourite beast alive by Tomyam

What once was by Revesdelimonade

Sweet dreams by ari_sunshine

The Stallion Protagonist's Villain-Wooing System and Black Lotus Binghe by tpfw01

The Peak Lord Who Didn't Want a Damn Dog by Silver999

To be your Shizun is not my Destiny by SleepySsnail <3

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natailiatulls07 · 1 year ago

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part two to lemon sherbets!! it was so so cute!!

Lemon Sherbet Pt.2

Mafia!Lando Norris x female!reader

Summary - He did it, Lando Norris did it. He managed to get her to marry him

Warning - swearing, Mafia??

A/n - This is also inspired by a scene from Legend (2015) <3

Lando had her. With much fight, Lando managed to be vulnerable for Y/n. He showed his gentle side, he always did. And in amongst Landos chaotic and dangerous lifestyle, the gangster proposed.

Today, a bright and colourful spring day, was the eagerly anticipated wedding day. Close family, friends and gangsters gathered in the small church. All dressed in the requested colourful dress code, but one.

The mother of the bride, M/n L/n was dressed head to toe in black. It was like she was attending a funeral. Sticking out like a sore thumb.

A black McLaren pulled into the small car park, Lando Norris emerging in a smart and slick suit. His usual.

Whispers were heard. Everyone immediately noticing the infamous gangster. “Look it’s Lando…”

The curly hair gangsters eyes flickered around, well aware of his surroundings. Until his eyes stopped, stopped on the mother of the bride. The only person dressed in black.

Max Fewtrell, his bestfriend, immediately walked up to Lando when he saw how his face turned to a scowl. “All right, all right”

Eyebrows frowned, Lando just stared at M/n who stared back. “She’s wearing black” He only wanted today to be perfect for Y/n and her own mother was ruining that.

“Yeah, I know I know…” All Max was doing to calm down his bestfriend, not wanting to cause a scene. “She read it wrong, hasn’t she? She thought it was a fucking funeral”

Max had grown to like his bestfriends lover, was very friendly. “Wearing black, that fucking bitch” Lando muttered, fighting off his ongoing anger.

“Don’t drive yourself mad” Lando turned from his bestfriend to look at M/n again. Still staring down at him, she had unimpressed look.

Never did she want this relationship. Always telling Y/n that he would just use her for her beauty.

Max muttered. “Wait until you see the daughter” He knew how Y/n calmed Lando down. “She looks unbelievable in white…” And he was hoping this would do just that.

The guests and the Mafia boss gathered in the chapel. Lando and Max stood at the alter, looking down the aisle. “What do you see in her?”

Lando took a deep breath, he saw everything in this women. “Well, I see…” The lad paused. “I see me self, yeah, I see…”

In that moment Max knew his bestfriend, the once shell of a man, had a heart and Y/n had full control of it. “I see what I could be. You know?” Lando continued, he had a nervous facial expression.

“If I weren’t scared”

Max stifled a laugh, his bestmate was never scared. Y/n really had an effect on Lando, so much effect. “You’re not scared of anything”

Turning for a second, Lando looked at Max. “Yeah” Their faces holding knowing grins. Both well aware of the womens effect on him.

Just outside, Y/n and Leo had just arrived in the wedding car. She was dressed in her chosen dress, flowers in hand and vail pulled down over her face.

They climbed the stairs to the doors of the chapel, where their mother stood still looking unimpressed. In a hushed whisper, Y/n spoke. “What’s she doing?”

Leo annoyed at his mother for trying to ruin the day. “Well you know what she’s gonna be saying” He knew how much their mother hated this relationship but Leo just wanted his little sister to be happy. “So just take it easy, deep breaths”

The pair had reached the top of the stairs, now face to face with M/n. “Why you not inside yet?”

Without a beat M/n spoke. “Are you sure you wanna go through with this?” Leo tried to interrupt and quieten her but Y/n stopped him.

“It’s all right, Leo…” She inhaled a deep breath before turning back to their mother. “I love him”

M/n’s eyes were piecing. “Love” There was a pause. “Do you even know what love is?”

Looking down, Y/n replied quickly. “I know it’s not an answer to anything. But love is a witness, Lando sees me” She was so used to being berated and criticised by her mother that to Y/n, Lando made her feel free and loved. “And I see him”

She shook her head. “And who are you to refuse that?”

Leaning down slightly, M/n spoke again. This time harsh and bitter. “I’m your mother.” And with that, she walked off into the chapel.

The two siblings watched their mother walking in, silence filled the air around them until. “Wow…” Leo broke the silence.

Y/n turned to look other at her brother. “What?” Confused evident.

“Nothing it’s just…” He paused and Y/n could swear that she saw tears welling up in his eyes. “You really love him, because you would never talk to mum like that…”

It was safe to say that Leo was baffled. Y/n never once spoke back to her mother, but now she had that confidence to. All because of Lando.

It was the same for Lando. He was becoming softer, just for her. More gentle and sympathetic. There was a small difference in each, but everyone could see it as clear as day.

“Let’s get you married then!”

#formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #max fewtrell #mclaren f1 #mclaren racing #mclaren #mafia au

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monster-disaster · 8 months ago

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Request: Chimera inspired monster

Not necessarily a traditional chimera, just a monster that you mish mash together yourself since you’re the author! I wanna make sure you have a lot of creative reign to design the creature how you want to!

Scenario/Plot: A retelling/inspired story of Beauty and the Beast, but female reader agrees to be his bride from the very start. She has abandonment issues and just yearns to be loved by anyone who’ll take her. And reader found her monster groom to be very attractive from the beginning. She’s just enjoying her life living in opulence with a man that’s fully devoted to her. *Cute shenanigans ensue between the couple, that ends in a Gomez and Morticia Adams romance*

Not sure if this’d be good for NSFW, or just a super fluffy romance would be better!

It's spring, and I'm in my historically inaccurate Regency Era. I hope you will enjoy it!

chimera!Lord Elohim x human!Reader Good to know: no warnings, and I can't promise anything, but there is a chance that we will meet Lord Elohim again because I have more ideas for their pair

A soft 'thank you' slips past your lips as the carriage door opens, and a hand reaches out towards you, offering help. Your fingers find a firm grip as you step out onto the gravel path, gathering the soft fabric of your dress to pull it out of your way. The pebbles creak under your shoes, mixing with the bustling noises of the others around you. Your gaze scans your surroundings, finding a few familiar faces among the guests. The ladies are adorned in their latest gowns, following the fashion and expectations of their titles. Their necklaces and earrings glint and shine under the warm light of the lampions and candles like the stars in the dark sky above you. In contrast, the men appear dull in their dark coats and trousers.

"Y/N?"

Your attention shifts from the guests to the mansion before you. Your gaze sweeps over the sturdy walls and delicate carvings and details. Candles glow in every window, dancing and pulsing among the lush vines that climb the grandiose building.

"Y/N?"

A slight frown pulls on your brows as your attention pauses at the wide window above the entrance door. A tall shadow stands firm and straight. The lights streaming out from the house make it impossible to see clearly.

"Y/N!" Your gaze tears away from the sight as an arm curls around yours, pulling you away from the next carriage in the long row of arriving guests. You need a moment to drag your focus away from the window. The back of your mind still lingers on the dark figure, though. "Mother?" "What are you doing?" She asks. Your frown again with confusion this time. "What do you mean?" "Come." Despite her small, delicate form, your mother has every power in her body to drag you into the house after showing the man standing at the door your invitation. "Wow!" Your amazement escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your eyes are on the chandelier hanging from the painted ceiling. "Don't be so crude!" "I'm not!" You reply, looking at the older woman with an amused smile. It's so easy to rile her up. "Come on! Don't tell me you are not surprised." She looks around more discreetly than you. Her attention lingers on the wallpapers with golden details, lush plants, and framed paintings. "I mean…" You can't help but laugh. "See?" "Well, the King was generous," she hums quietly, making sure you are the only one who can hear her while the others come and go around you two. "He saved his nephew," you reason. "He almost died."

The ballroom is already buzzing with life as you and your mother continue further into the mansion, her arm still linked with yours. "Wow!" "Y/N!" You don't even bother with a reaction. You're too busy taking in the green walls with their glinting decor, the flickering candles, and the sturdy wooden furniture. The windows, wide and tall, are framed with dark curtains, offering glimpses of the garden behind the mansion filled with lush greens and flowerbeds. From what you can see, the whole house is elegant and stylish, with the obvious preferences of its male owner.

"I will bring us something to drink," you tell your mother when you see the familiar form of your neighbor coming your way. The woman's face is red with excitement, and her eyes shine with news and the latest topics to gossip about. You already know most of them anyway. "Thank you, dear," your mother replies, letting go of your arm to face the other woman.

The excited voice of your neighbor soon disappears in the cacophony of the soft music that is quiet enough to give space for the chatter in the room. Young couples dance in the middle in each other's arms, whispering and swirling at the melody while the others stand around with drinks. Their voices mingle together to the point you can't understand them.

Maybe it's for the better.

After the King bestowed a title, fortune, and lands upon a monster who saved his nephew from certain death on the battlefield, it became impossible to avoid the whispers circulating through the streets and social gatherings. Allowing monsters to earn wealth and find a way to integrate into human society, primarily through the military, was one thing; however, granting them titles and authority was an entirely different affair. The Ton found themselves uncertain of how to react without angering the King.

They don't dare to express their opinions to the monarch; they are not dense, after all. Yet, they can't readily accept the monster into their social circles, either.

Then, a week ago, everyone received an invitation from Lord Elohim, putting many between a rock and a hard place to your utmost amusement.

As you survey the room full of people of the society close to the King, you notice that their curiosity outweighs their resentment. For tonight, at least. The lack of your surprise is understandable; you are sure this party will provide rich fodder for gossip for weeks, if not months. You glance back at your mother and her friend, already chatting in hushed whispers. Yes, you think, it's already started. It started even before the night began.

The table is pushed next to the wall between two windows. Your eyes scan the various drinks, cakes, and fruits, all fresh and ripe. You're about to reach for two cups when your attention shifts to an archway nearby. Through it, you glimpse a narrow corridor and another open door with a tall bookshelf. Your hand hesitates in mid-air, halfway to the drinks.

You shouldn't.

Your gaze sweeps over the guests, observing everyone having a great time. People continue to dance under the watchful eyes of the wallflowers and eager mothers, while the men chat in small groups.

Your mother would kill you.

As you stand still, unnoticed by the others, you find yourself repeatedly turning your attention back to the door outside.

It would be really rude of you.

You take a few tentative steps away from the table, still focusing on the people around you. A few of them smile when your eyes meet, but nobody stops to start a conversation with you.

Just a quick glance, you tell yourself as you slowly back out of the ballroom. Nobody will know.

The corridor appears much darker in contrast to the ballroom, and when you step into the other room, you have to light a candle you find on the small table next to the door.

The small library is much simpler than the other rooms of the house you've had the chance to see. The walls are hidden by bookshelves, with two sofas and a small coffee table in the middle. From there, you have a full view of another part of the garden spreading out behind the mansion.

You move quietly and slowly with the small, burning candle in your hand. The floor creaks under your steps. The dancing flame warms your face as you lean closer to read the spines of the books. The soft glow illuminates the line of your eyes and the slope of your nose. Most of the books are worn and faded.

You glance at the entrance every now and then, making sure nobody has noticed your absence yet. The noises of the music and the guests seem far away through the half-closed door.

You should go, though.

You nibble on your lower lip until it's red and slightly swollen as you reach up to the shelf. The book you grasp is dark red with a golden title. You can see that it has been regularly read.

Just a peek, you try to convince yourself, and you'll be ready to go.

Before you know it, you're sitting on one of the sofas with the candle on the table and the book on your lap.

Your mother will definitely kill you.

"It's from a friend." The deep voice coming from the door almost makes you jump out of your skin. You grab the books at the last moment before they slip from your lap to the ground. "Oh!" Your heart throbs in your throat as you gasp for air. "He wrote it," he continues, stepping closer. His hands are behind his back. The dark blue coat stretches on his broad shoulders. "While he was traveling."

You have seen monsters before. Even though humans are not particularly fond of them, they are not banned from cities and towns. At least, not anymore.

But you have never seen anything like him before.

Your eyes rake over his tall, sturdy form. At first, you think he is a rakshasa, with a thick yet lean body and a dark mane around his head, but there are goat horns peeking out of the thick fur. And instead of the delicate lion tail, a crocodile one swings behind him, dark green and covered in scales.

"Lord…" You gasp again, standing up from your seat. You can't hide the surprise in your voice or wipe it away from your face. Your fingers are tight on the book, still open. "Lord Elohim," he says with a slight bow. "And you are…" "Lady Y/L/N," you tell him. You are still so overwhelmed by him that you forget your manners entirely. You stare at him openly without shame. He is barefoot. The white shirt he wears is a bit bigger than him, showing off a bit of his chest, and tucked into the creamy-colored trousers that hug his lean waist perfectly. A slight grimace pulls on his face, letting you see his sharp canines. "I'm not doing it right, am I?" He seems easy and amused. Even a bit awkward. Your tense posture relaxes a bit. Your shoulders fall. "I mean," you dare to tease him with a small smile. "You should be outside, socializing, but I shouldn't be here either. And for that, I'm sorry." "Don't be," he says, stepping even closer. Your breath hitches. "I love being here too, so I understand." His gaze runs over the shelves full of books before his attention falls on you again. "How do you like it?" He nods to the book still in your hand. "It's interesting," you tell him. "I didn't know orcs have such a rich culture." There is a glint of amusement in his eyes. "How many orcs do you know?" Heat creeps up on your cheeks. "None." "You can take it with you," he says, motioning to the book again. "It's really good." "Oh, I can't…" "You can," he says immediately. "I'm offering." He is so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face. The male is handsome, with his almost black snout and golden eyes. The realization shocks you. You didn't think monsters could be so attractive. "Well," you clear your throat. Your nose is full of his scent. Warmth and nature. "Thank you." You put it down on the table next to you, though. Maybe you can sneak in before you have to leave and take it home without your mother noticing. She wouldn't be happy with you leaving the ballroom and being alone with a man, monster or not. "You are here with…" "My mother," you tell him. "She is outside… where I should be." He grins. "Me too." None of you move. "Do you want me to introduce you?" You ask him. You can't just leave him here. Not after he offered you his book and was so kind to you. "It can be scary around the ton for the first time." There is something wolfish in his smirk that makes your insides tremble with excitement. You understand, though. You don't think there are a lot of things that can scare him. "Thank you," Lord Elohim says in the end, holding up his arm for you to take. He is warm under your touch as you accept his offer.

Your heart flutters at his closeness.

Eyes fall on you the moment you step into the ballroom on Lord Elohim's side. Your fingers tighten on the curve of his elbows, and he squeezes your hand softly as a reassurance. The room gets quiet as you make your way to your mother through the crowd. Her eyes are wide with shock as you approach her. "Mother," you smile at her, not caring about the heavy gazes on you and the monster. "Let me introduce Lord Elohim." Your mother curtsies, taking back the control over her face. A soft smile appears on her lips, and she looks up at the tall male. "My Lord." "Lady Y/L/N," he bows, still holding onto you on his arm. His paw-like hand is warm on your glove-covered skin. "Please," he straightens, looking around the room. "Continue. Enjoy the night."

His words are followed by silence, and everyone needs a few seconds to regain their composure and focus on their business. Quiet murmurs ripple through the guests, the music starts again, and the weight of the others' attention lifts off your shoulders a bit. Not entirely, though.

"Thank you for the invitation, my Lord," your mother says. You know she feels awkward even though she is really great at hiding it. "I hope everything is for your liking." "Of course," the older woman nods. Before another tense silence could fall on your small company, you turn to the male. He is already watching you, and you can see your mother's eyes widening with fear about what you plan to say. You understand her. "It would be really gentlemanly of you to ask me to dance." You hear your mother gasping, but your focus is on Lord Elohim and his sharp canines as he smiles at you. There is something satisfied and cheeky in the curve.

His golden eyes bore into yours as he gently tugs on your hand, leading you to the couples dancing in the heart of the ballroom. You're aware of the gazes fixed upon you, analyzing your every move, yet you couldn't care less. Your attention is consumed by the chimera before you. His paw-like hand trails from yours, grazing over your arm until it settles on the small of your back, drawing you closer until you're enveloped by his embrace. A tingling sensation courses through your entire being. A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. "Are you alright, my lady?" The rumble of his chest echoes within yours.

Are you okay? You're uncertain. Unable to tear your gaze away from his, you feel like a raw nerve, sensitive and on the verge of bursting as he encloses you against himself. The air around you grows hot and heavy, causing your chest to ache and throb.

A smirk plays on his lips. "Are you thinking of running?" Lord Elohim teases, regarding you like a deer he often spots in his garden at dawn. With wide eyes and slightly parted lips, you gaze up at him. He's certain the soft skin of your cheeks would be warm under his touch if he dared to act as he desires despite the attention of his guests. Oh, how he longs to send them all home and keep only you for himself. The pretty little lady with the tendency to sneak around.

"No," you breathe out, fighting for air when you find your voice, holding onto his shoulder more firmly as if he is the only one who keeps you on your feet. You can feel the softness of his mane on your fingertips. Your other hand is in the air in his grasp.

It takes a moment for you to register the orchestra and your body's response to the gentle melody. You move mindlessly under Lord Elohim's guide. Swaying back and forth, you follow the male's lead on the dance floor. His embrace envelops you in warmth, leaving you feeling giddy and breathless as he twirls you, pulling you back to him moments later. You smile up at him, on the verge of laughter.

"You're quite the dancer," you compliment him. "Well, thank you," he hums, his gaze still firmly fixed on yours. "In that case, I hope you won't mind if I ask you to dance with me again." And a few more times.

You don't answer immediately. A sense of certainty washes over you, Lord Elohim will be your lifelong dance partner. The thought fills you with excitement for your future as you stare up at him. It seems like the gold of his eyes swirls under the lights that dance in sync with you.

"I'd love to dance with you some more, my Lord."

For an eternity, if it's possible.

#sweet asks #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster x reader #terat0philliac #chimera x reader

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