#Oops I sprinkled some angst in my fluff fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

changbunnies · 1 year ago

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Connected (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight!Bang Chan x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: angst, fluff, royal au, historical au, knight x princess au, arranged marriage (for reader), forbidden love, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining (they are so oblivious)

♡ Word Count: 15.9k (oops lmao)

♡ Summary: Y/N, as princess of the kingdom, is destined to marry for politics and financial gain, but all she wants is to marry for love. Chan, her childhood friend turned royal knight, has to either come to terms with her inevitable marriage, or finally confess the feelings he's been harboring for years.

♡ Warnings: very brief minho x reader, extremely jealous chan, also lowkey possessive chan, (he's not in any toxic way at all but still), reader is implied to be plus size, old timey traditions and expectations of women to suit the setting, i think thats about it ??

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): petnames (princess (mostly as a title), darling, my love) loss of virginity (both reader and chan are virgins), nipple play, fingering (f rec), unprotected piv, creampie, overall very soft sex with some shyness and teasing sprinkled in, breeding kink if you squint

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my a03 here and if you're interested, you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams ! and thank you so much for all the love my works have gotten so far, i appreciate it sm !!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

A sigh passes your lips as you stare out at the sprawling nature before you from up on your balcony. The sight of trees swaying in the wind, flowers blooming towards the sun, and animals skittering about on the earth below always helped to ease your troubled mind.

You always found yourself here when the worries of life and your duty proved too much for you. As the kingdom’s heir to the throne, you weren't often afforded the luxury of leaving your castle, or dirtying your soles by prancing in the nearby forest.

Instead, you often had to settle for the next best thing– simply observing it. Normally that was enough for you, but on days like today, where you were constantly bombarded with responsibility and expectations, you wished you could flee into the forest and never look back. It would be difficult to flee your life, but surely it would be better than this. You were tired of feeling so stifled all the time.

"All that sighing isn't going to help, Princess," a familiar voice speaks from the doorway of your bedroom. "I know that," you frown, turning to look at your childhood friend turned royal knight with crossed arms and a glare on your face.

You know Chan doesn’t mean to add to your frustration, and normally you wouldn’t snap at him over a comment made in jest, but you're really in no mood for it right now. You’ll apologize later when you’re less quick to anger; right now, you are currently too stuck in your feelings to respond kindly.

It'd been a week since you were informed of your inevitable marriage, and you still hadn’t come to terms with it to any degree. Your father, the current King, informed you that the eligible men who desired your hand would be arriving later in the month, and how you were expected to be on your best "womanly" behavior when meeting your suitors for the first time. You knew it would happen someday but you still loathed the idea of it.. It made you feel like an object, like a pawn to be used rather than a person with her own thoughts and feelings.

"My apologies Princess, but you've been really down these past few days. I thought you might enjoy some company," Chan explains with his perfectly rehearsed politeness that you haven't quite gotten used to hearing yet. "Stop calling me Princess when it's just the two of us, it's unnecessary," you complain while Chan looks at you with a playful smile.

"Very well, Princess," he teases in response, laughing when you scowl at him for it. Chan has been your knight for a little over a year now, and while you did enjoy having him around more often, the tone shift from friend to knight was jarring. There were times where you missed your old dynamic, when he'd speak to you with no pleasantries or titles (though it did often incur the wrath of your attendants for being 'disrespectful' to the princess.)

You never found him disrespectful however; you actually quite liked that he always spoke to you candidly and without pretenses. Even as a kid you'd noticed the way commoners treated you differently from everyone else, and you liked that Chan didn't. Though he was just a child like yourself at the time, and most likely did not realize the impact it had on you, you enjoyed being able to feel like a normal person.

He was often on the castle grounds due to his parents, his mother a maidservant and his father a horseman. And while he was never supposed to have met you due to the difference in station, you two often found yourselves in each other's path.

You learned to ride horses together under his father's tutelage, he would accompany his mother around the castle as she cleaned various rooms, and he’d always wave to you with a goofy smile while you were studying (even if it ended in a scolding from the adults around him.)

You had quickly become fond of him, your only friend in an otherwise lonely world. You can remember fondly the days where he would distract you from your lessons by making silly gestures behind your tutors' backs, and how he’d gift you trinkets from outside the castle’s walls, such as cheap dolls and freshly picked flowers.

They were “plain” by royal standards, but you still loved them dearly, as they were things you had never had in your life until he brought them to you. He would even bring delicious pastries and fresh bread made by his mother, which had become your favorite things to eat simply because it was so different from everything else you were allowed to have.

Chan steps onto the balcony, taking his place next to you. He leans against the banister, staring out at the scenery that held your attention moments ago. "I don't want you to get married yet either," he admits after a brief moment of silence. You look at him, taking in the sullen expression on his face. You are initially surprised he looks so sad, allowing you to catch a glimpse at his usually hidden vulnerability.

You know very well that he, like anyone, is capable of feeling a depth of complex emotions, but he rarely shows you that side of himself. You spend so much of your days stressed or tired or daydreaming about being anything other than what you are, so he chooses not to burden you with any feelings he has. You've told him many times that he could, even encouraged him to share with you, but he always said he'd rather focus on making you feel better because that would make him feel better too.

“You don’t..?” you ask, though you wonder what you are even expecting to hear in response. He’s your best friend and he cares about your feelings, so obviously he doesn’t want to see you go through something you hate. It obviously it saddens him to see a friend hurting– but despite yourself, you still hope for his feelings to go beyond that.

You want to hear him say he cares about your inevitable marriage not as a concerned best friend, but as a man. A man who loves you, a man who wants you, a man who would fight for your hand in marriage against all odds. It's foolish, you know this, but you can’t stop yourself but hoping for it.

Your heart ignores the logic your brain provides, disregarding that he'll never be allowed to marry you even if he did have romantic feelings for you and was willing to fight against tradition for you. It doesn't matter that he has devoted his life to protecting you, that he's extremely well read or gifted in combat, or that he grew up within the same castle walls that you have. He will always be "beneath you", his merits never good enough, all because he was born to commoners.

You always hated that. Why do the circumstances of someone's birth have to matter so much? Why does fate have to be decided based on what family you are born into?

And you can still remember vividly the day you realized you cared for him as more than just the best friend you grew up with. When he stood before you, handsome in his weathered training armor and practice sword in hand, smiling proudly as he devoted his life to your care, your heart fluttered.

Chan worked hard to be your knight, practiced with his sword to the point of exhaustion, spent countless hours reading about affairs between nations and studying combat techniques, all to be the one who protects you. He dedicated his life to you, to being by your side through everything, even if it meant putting his personal affairs on hold.

There were times where you still didn’t understand why he sacrificed so much of his freedom for you. The life you lived was so stuffy and restricting, and he could do anything. He could do whatever he wanted with life, live anywhere in the world, choose from a myriad of careers, yet he chose to be stuck in the castle with you for the rest of his youth.

The day you turned 14, you confessed to him that you were dreading the day you both became adults because you knew your lives would take you different places. Even if he followed in his father’s footsteps and became the castle's horseman, you'd likely rarely, if ever, see him. It was something you thought about a lot, as you were often reminded by your elders of your responsibilities to the kingdom, but that day it was hitting you particularly hard.

That day sticks firmly in Chan's head as well; he can still remember the way tears pricked the corners of your eyes, the reality of getting older and the responsibilities that were soon to follow already bearing heavily on you.

That was the day he decided he’d work hard to always be near you, as he never wanted to see you cry over his separation from you. If there was no reason for him to stay, he would make one. If it meant freedom and choice was taken from him, he was willing to let those things go. If it was for you, it would be worth it.

When you asked him why he decided to become a knight despite the sacrifice and responsibility it entailed, why he was willing to give up so much to stay in the castle with you, he simply smiled at you. “It’s where I am meant to be,” he replied, dimples lighting up his face in an expression so sweet it made your stomach flip.

You fell in love with him that day. Or maybe you always loved him, and that was the day you fully realized it. That intangible feeling that always lingered whenever you looked at him, that you couldn’t hold and understand but knew was there. It was love, all that time. You knew it then, and you still know it now. Chan is the only person you will ever love.

He spends the rest of the afternoon comforting you, as he always does when you are feeling unhappy and indignant. Giving you kind words or gentle, comforting silence when you need it, transitioning into his goofy side who makes jokes and does his best to make you laugh as soon as you show that you are feeling better.

And it does help, but in a way it also makes it worse. Because unbeknownst to him, he’s just reaffirming your love for him. For every gesture that endears you to him, it also makes your heart sink even further. And worse of all, you can’t even be upset about it– because he doesn’t know your feelings, he doesn’t know how his kindness feels akin to a knife in your gut.

And it’s likely he’ll never know. Because when can you tell him? How can you tell him? It’s not meant to be, and it never will be. For as long as you are royalty, he’ll never be allowed to love you, and you’ll never be allowed to love him. The sooner you accept it the better off you’ll be, but you don’t know if you ever can.

How do you make yourself stop loving someone so perfect? How do you put aside your feelings, how do you pretend that they never existed in the first place? You’re lost, you’re stuck, and you know nothing will change it.

You suppose the best you can do is enjoy the little time you have remaining. Live in the moment with him instead of worrying so much about the future, because once it’s here you won’t be able to get this time back.

That’s why you smile for him, earnestly. You laugh with him the way you always do, you reminisce about your childhoods, you talk about all your favorite things instead of wallowing in what you hate. You don’t allow yourself to frown or cry until he’s gone for the night, the setting of the sun beckoning him out of your room and to his own.

You cry as you wash off the day's grime in the bath, you cry as you towel off in front of the mirror, and you cry as you lie in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as you think about all the joy you will never have.

Because you will lose Chan before you ever even had him. Never being allowed to hold his hand, to kiss him, to lie with him.. Because he is your knight, and a princess isn’t supposed to fall in love with one.

It’d been over a month since your suitors first started arriving at the castle to meet you, settling into their guest rooms and (frustratingly) occupying your days. You were as respectful as you were expected to be, but you really didn’t put in any effort to get to know them more deeply. You just weren’t interested in any romantics with them.

If the situation were different, and these were men you were meeting with the prospect of friendship or strengthening ties between allied kingdoms platonically, you would be much more susceptible to the pleasantries. As it stands now, you can’t put yourself out there for them the way you are expected to.

Most of them seem nice enough, and for the ones with gentler personalities you do feel bad for your standoff-ish attitude, but showing your disinterest firmly is the best way to not give anyone false hopes. You know you won’t fall in love with any of them, and wouldn’t it be worse to lead them on by having no backbone?

Sure, you could be a bit nicer, but why would you be? They are all here with the intention to marry you, they all have a goal in mind– to win you over by any means necessary. Even if they had the purest of intentions, it wouldn’t sway you to change your mind so easily.

At the end of the day, no matter who is here for a chance at genuine love and who is here for political gain, you are being treated like an object, and it’s something you detest with your entire being. And even leaving aside your feelings for Chan (which undeniably also plays a part in your disdain for your situation), you still wouldn’t enjoy this process.

Maybe it was your own fault for idolizing fairytales and spending your free time daydreaming about what your perfect life would look like, but what can you say? You’re a hopeless romantic, even to a fault, it seems. Is it truly so bad for you to want genuine love with someone? A love that happens organically, unforced by any outside factors pushing for it?

And now here you are, letting your maids prepare your attire and dress for tonight’s ball, where you will be expected to mingle with and accept the advances of your suitors, even if it is performative in nature. You try your best not to scowl in disapproval when your maids talk excitedly about your “romances”, who they think is most handsome out of your suitors, and who they hope you will choose.

You wish you could scream out, “I choose none! I don’t want to marry any of them!” You’d gladly let these girls take their pick of the men who came for you. It seems that the fan favorite, as it were, is Sir Minho, the handsome son to Duke Lee in the western lands. Apart from being attractive, he’s well-mannered, compassionate with animals, and skilled in battles of wit.

If you were being truthful, he was an easy pick. He was easily the most desirable of every suitor, not just from a personal standpoint, but also from a political standpoint. Keeping relations with the west positive would lower chances of revolt or separation into their own independent nation.

Yes, if you were smart and not at all stubborn, you would most certainly pick Minho. But stubborn you undeniably were; opinions firm and unbending, resistant to compromise or sacrifice.

And honestly, shouldn’t that be expected? Why wouldn’t the princess, who is capable of having everything material she ever wanted, not be selfish when it comes to love? You like to think yourself a reasonable person, one who makes sound decisions and goes through life with a firm sense of rationality. However, when it comes to Chan, all rational thought and decision making seems to leave you, replaced solely by emotion.

Your heart overtakes you, arguing fiercely with your rational and intelligent brain, as if making the logical, sensible choice would be foolish despite the reality being the opposite. You let out a sigh, that your maids thankfully mistake as one of exhaustion. While you arguably had the easiest job in the room, just sitting around and letting others doll you up, it was still tiring in its own right.

Layers upon layers of petticoats, chemises, and skirts, tight garters to hold up your stockings, squeezing into a corset and then adding even more layers on top of that.. If the end result wasn’t so gorgeous, you’d absolutely hate this process. And god forbid you needed to use the bathroom at any point– that endeavor in itself was hellish.

After the grueling task of fitting you into your finest royal blue ensemble, your hair and makeup came next. You begged for it to be on the simpler side, as you would be occupied for hours tonight and really didn't want to worry about keeping it pristine the entire time, and they thankfully obliged the request. There’s a few moments of downtime when they are finished, which gives you time to breathe and prepare yourself mentally for the night’s festivities.

There is a knock on the door, which the maids closest to the door don’t hesitate to open. It’s Chan, of course, as it’s his job to come collect you whenever it’s necessary for you to leave your room. That’s another reason this night you’re upset about tonight– you wish you could walk together to the ballroom as a couple, instead of as a knight and princess.

“It is time to go, Princess. The guests have begun arriving in the ballroom,” he says, keeping his gaze professional under the watchful eyes of the maids in the room.

But God, is that hard for him. You're so unbelievably beautiful it makes his heart feel like it's twisting in his chest. He’s lucky that no one in the room seemed to notice the way it stole his breath away, or the way his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they should have before he directed you to follow him out of the door.

You thank your maids for their help before you depart, and they all say some variation of “have fun!” as you leave the room. “Fun” is doubtful in this scenario, but you’ll certainly try to not be miserable. Try being the keyword– you make no such promises of how things will actually play out.

You put on the best smile you can manage when you enter the room, letting various guests greet you, briefly indulging them in small talk before Chan helps you move your way past them. You take a seat next to your parents, with Chan standing just a few feet away– a respectable distance as to not intrude on the royal family, but close enough to reach you quickly if something went wrong.

As is to be expected, sticking close to your parents and away from the dancing doesn’t spare you from any attention. Those who are permitted to speak with the royal family appear to you in a near constant stream, with monotonous questions about how you’ve been and how you feel about your inevitable marriage in tow.

God, the night has just begun and you’re already tired. Is it too early to retreat back to the safety of your room? You take a quick glance around the ballroom, taking note of all the guests you have an obligation to talk to and who you could feasibly get away with staying away from.

Unfortunately, it seems like your evening will be full of talking to people you don't want to deal with. You said you'd try to have a good time, but that didn't mean you had to right this second, did it? You're definitely staying at the table for as long as possible, even if it causes your guests to think of you disfavorably (and if you're lucky, it will.)

It's probably about two hours into the gathering when your parents seem to grow tired of you doing nothing but sitting with them at the head table. You can tell even before it happens that your mother and father have something to say about your silent protest.

"Why aren't you out there, dear?" your mother asks, taking a gentler approach despite the obvious frown of displeasure on her face. Truthfully, she understands your sadness and feels for your plight, but she can’t allow you to wallow in it.

You are very clearly sulking, proper manners ignored as you sit with crossed arms and a pout. “Don’t like to dance,” you lie, but everyone near you knows that isn’t true.

You normally loved dancing. You would attend your dance lessons enthusiastically, and later you would sneak Chan into the ballroom to teach him everything you learned. Although he loved music and followed rhythms easily on his own, his initial steps with you were always awkward. His excuse was that he was nervous to be dancing with the princess, but you would remind him that since being the princess never made him hesitate with you before, it shouldn’t matter now.

In all honesty, a majority of his nerves came from being afraid of making a mistake in front of you. Chan could normally dance very well, often being complimented and told he was a natural at it, but doing it with you made him especially nervous. What if you felt how sweaty his palms were becoming just from having you closer than usual? What if you could hear how loudly his heart was pounding? What if the nerves made him do the steps wrong?

He really liked you, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in your presence. Chan is often goofy, yes, but it was always willfully. He liked making you laugh and smile, but he didn’t want that side of him to be out in that moment. He found himself wanting you to see a different side of him, he wanted to impress you with how easily he picked up what you taught him, he wanted you to compliment him with your sweet voice.

To his own relief, Chan eventually managed to conquer his nerves, and he was able to pick up the steps and lead the dance without making an embarrassment of himself. Soon enough, the two of you would regularly spend hours in the ballroom together, dancing until late into the evening. With no band to play music for you, the both of you would take turns humming melodies, though you always preferred when Chan was the one doing it as his voice was so melodic and beautiful to you.

With your memories of each shared, secret dance so clear in your mind, how can you dance with any of these men and not think of Chan? How do you look at any of them and not compare their differences? How can you be with them without thinking about how you’d rather be with Chan instead? Even if they were lovely, even if they were without flaw, they weren’t who you wanted to be with.

You glance at Chan, who has to remain stone faced in these moments. Your parents are aware that you became friends with him well before he was inaugurated into knighthood, but they don’t realize to what extent.

They don’t know about the countless hours spent together, how you’d disregard rules to be near him, or how you’d sneak him into spaces he normally wouldn’t be allowed in. He can’t make them aware of how close the two of you truly are by reacting, and you know this well, but you still can't help but seek him out in every moment.

Noticing you looking at him, Chan shoots you a small look of sympathy before your parents can notice, doing his best to ease you despite the restrictions. He knows you don’t want to do this, and that you hate being scolded and reminded of how “important” it is to have a “good” husband.

“Good” meaning having power, or wealth, or a prestigious lineage in this case. You don’t want to care about formalities, traditions, or responsibilities. You don’t want to prioritize superficial qualities or be in a loveless marriage purely for alliance.

Is it really so terrible for you to just be in love with someone for who they are instead of what they have? You don’t care about what they have to offer or what legacies their families hold. You want to be with the person whose smile lights up your world. You want to be with the person who sacrificed so much just to stay within your realm. You want Chan.

“Your suitors would love to dance with you,” your father says, “You should at least try to get along with them, don’t be stubborn. You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.” Chan watches your expression change, the mix of anger and sadness bubbling within you becoming increasingly more apparent. He wishes he could rush to your side and help, but he can't. So instead he stands in place, fists clenched in a vain effort to ground himself as he remains frozen to his spot.

“Of course father,” you say as you stand, biting your tongue so as to not make a scene in the middle of an extravagant ball. Despite your tumultuous feelings, you're not foolish enough to disrespect the king with an audience. “I need a moment, if you’ll allow it,” you say and your father nods, finding it a reasonable enough compromise.

You bow politely before you go despite how badly you wish you could storm out and give a bitter display of resentment. Chan moves to follow you, (which he would do even if it wasn't his job,) but your mother calls for him to wait a moment. “I’m aware my daughter is unhappy about this, but try to talk some sense into her for me, will you? I doubt she’ll listen to us, upset as she is. She may find it easier to listen to someone unattached to the situation.”

‘Unattached.’ If only she knew Chan was terribly, terribly attached to the situation– attached to you. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he answers politely, bowing before he steps away to follow your path out of the ballroom. It doesn’t take him long to find you despite his delay leaving; he knows you well enough to know where you prefer to be when upset.

You are outside, sitting on the steps leading to the garden, arms hugging your legs with your head against your knees. You feel trapped, and looking out at nature always helps (even if in this case said nature was still confined within the castle’s walls.) You lift your head when you hear Chan’s footsteps behind you, wiping stray tears from your eyes as he approaches. “Y/N..” he speaks softly, heart tugging at him painfully; he always hated seeing you cry.

He sits next to you, deciding comforting you was more important than worrying about who would see the two of you being close. If he gets in trouble, so be it; you need your friend right now, not your knight. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you carefully to his side. “I hate this,” you mumble with a trembling voice, burying your face in his shoulder.

Chan swallows, trying to find the words to say. He hates it too– unbearably so. Every time he pictures you being in love with someone else it makes him physically ill. He doesn’t want to think about how devastated he’ll be hearing you say ‘I love you’ to another man, how excruciating it will be for him to watch from the sidelines while you build a future with someone he can never be.

He knows his heart will crumble when he sees you make your eternal vows to someone else, so beautiful and demure and forever out of his reach. He made his promise to be your knight for the remainder of his days knowing this is what it would entail, but fuck, it still hurts.

Chan has always considered himself a strong and resilient person, and he felt like he could handle this inevitability, but maybe he was naive to think so; nothing could have prepared him for how painful the reality actually was. His mistake wasn’t falling in love with someone unattainable– his mistake was thinking he could survive the heartbreak.

In all his life, he’ll never regret falling in love with you or becoming the knight you need, but he’s still human. A selfish human, who wants more than he can be granted, who wants to marry his beloved princess more than any treasure or title in the world.

Chan does his best to keep his breathing steady, not wanting to alert you that he was affected by this way more than a friend or knight should be. He thinks about what your father said to you shortly before you left the ballroom. ‘You won’t grow to love any of them if you don’t try.’

As much as he hated to admit it, your father had a point. And he could see why your mother wanted him to make you understand, but did he really have it in him to follow her request? Could he encourage you to try to fall in love with someone else knowing how it’d tear him apart?

It’s the last thing he ever wants to do, but devoting his life to you meant he had to put aside selfish desires. He couldn’t let his love for you cloud his judgment, he couldn’t sabotage your chance at happiness to make himself feel better. How can he be a proper knight if he puts his selfish hopes above what is best for you in the long run?

“Listen.. I know you might not want to hear this but.. Your parents have a point. You should get to know them better,” Chan speaks cautiously, trying to prepare for whatever reaction you might have. It kills him to say it, not just because he doesn’t want to see you with someone else, but also because he knows you won’t want to hear this from him. He watches you freeze, staring at him in something akin to saddened disbelief.

You feel as if your cracked heart has now completely shattered. If there was any doubt before, now you know. Chan doesn’t love you the way you love him. He wouldn’t be okay with this if he loved you, he wouldn’t want to see you marry someone if he wanted you the way you want him. Your feelings have always been one sided. You swallow, trying not to cry any more than you already have or show how hurt that made you feel.

“So you agree with them then..” your voice is quiet and defeated. What do you even say..? Should you admit that one of the reasons this is so hard for you is because you’re in love with him? Would that even change anything? You always knew being in love with him was a fool’s endeavor, and now that truth was solidified.

“It’s not that. You know I don't want you to, it’s just– I know you’re miserable right now. And the reality is that you’ll have to marry one of them. If you get to know them and grow to love one of them, it’d be better for you. The way things are now, you’ll never be happy, and that's all I want for you.. Just to be happy,” he says, trying his best to show you how earnest he is.

He’s so fucking in love with you, of course he doesn’t want to see you marry someone else, it’s the last thing he ever wants. He doesn’t want to watch you fall in love with one of them, he doesn’t want to sit on the sidelines while you give your love to someone else, but he can’t keep denying the reality before him. Despite how selfish he is, he can’t put himself and what he wants above you.

And putting those selfish desires aside, he just wants you to have a good, happy life, even if that happiness comes from someone else. No matter how badly he wishes he could be the one you spend your forever with, it’s not the life that is meant for him. He has to come to terms with that, now more than ever. He has to, because it'll break him apart if he doesn't.

You look at him now, and as much as it hurts, you can see the sincerity. Even though it’s not what you wanted to hear, you know how much he cares about you. Even now, he’s looking out for you and trying his best.

Maybe he doesn't love you the way you love him, but it is a form of love nonetheless. His actions have never shown you anything different, and even if it’s not the sort of romantic love you want it to be, you should be happy with what you already have with him.

You separate yourself from his gentle hold, standing quickly as you do your best to wipe your tears without ruining your makeup any further. “You’re right. I’ll try,” you say, forcing yourself to find the resolve you desperately need to get this night over with. He smiles at you, albeit strained as he suffers with his own tumultuous emotions, and rises to his feet as well.

Chan gives you one last gesture of comfort, a gentle squeeze to your hand, before he leads you back to the ballroom where everyone waits for you to return. “Are you ready?” He asks when you are both stopped in front of the doors.

You sigh, taking just a small moment before you nod and allow yourself to enter the bustling room. You’re not ready, but it will never get any easier, so you suppose you’ll just have to accept that and get on with it regardless.

You leave Chan standing with your parents, where he can still have you in his line of sight while not intruding upon anything you need to do. You suppose if you’re really going to commit to this, you should go with the obvious choice– Lee Minho. It doesn’t take you long to spot him either; all you had to do was follow the gaze of infatuated maids to see him standing in a bubble with other high society guests your father invited to the event.

“Sir Minho, are you occupied?” you ask as you step forward to him, the crowd that had gathered around him easily dissipating to allow the princess closer to her suitor. “Of course not, Princess. Would you like to dance?” he smiles politely as he holds out his arm for you, and you accept it, letting him lead you toward the center of the ballroom.

Another thing you suppose you should do if you’re really going to commit to this is apologize. You doubt anything will genuinely come of it on your part, but it’d be best to not have a marriage start off with bitterness in your heart if it does miraculously develop into something more.

Honestly you’d rather scream and kick than offer an apology you don’t entirely mean but.. What other option is there at this point? "Listen, I'm sorry for how cold I've been towards you. It's not due to any fault of your own, it's just.."You pause briefly, trying to think of how best to continue that line of dialogue, but Minho speaks up before you can.

“It’s just that you are being forced into a marriage you don’t want?" Your eyes widen, mouth opening and closing as you desperately try to find a way to dismiss his accurate assessment. Were you that transparent? 'Of course you were, idiot,' you curse yourself. Maybe you should've practiced subtlety.

"I get it. You aren’t the only one unhappy about this,” he continues, further surprising you. He chuckles at your shocked expression, amusement in his voice. “What, is that hard to believe?”

"I.. I guess I just assumed everyone is here because they want to be. It didn’t occur to me that you would be in a similar situation to myself,” you answer truthfully. Maybe you would have realized sooner if you hadn't been so stuck in your ways, so quick to ignore and dismiss every suitor that came close to you.

“I don’t blame you for thinking that. I’m sure most of the men are here because they want to be. I consider myself an outlier,” Minho speaks nonchalantly, but now that you are really looking at him, you can tell he is just as unhappy to be forced into this as you are. You also get the impression that he’s good at keeping a cool exterior, likely due to years of experience at suppressing his actual desires, the same as you.

“Is there someone else? Someone you love, back at home?” you ask, and Minho smiles sadly as he nods. “There is. They mean the world to me. I asked them to wait for me, I told them I wouldn’t leave them but.. I don’t know what will happen, if I'm being honest.” He tries to mask how upset he is to admit that, but you can see it.

Maybe you’d be as oblivious to it as everyone else seemed to be if you weren’t dealing with similar emotions. You feel a strange sort of kinship with him now, realizing how parallel your situations seem to be. “I’ll make sure you can be reunited. I may not have much power as it stands now, but I can do that at least.”

Minho smiles at your reply, but shakes his head, as if your act of kindness would be futile. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it would only be temporary. I’m sure even if I don’t marry you, my father will just send me off to another castle to find a spouse. It’s all he cares about.”

You frown, about to speak reassurances or some other comforting statement, but he stops you before you can. “What about you, Princess? Is there someone you love?” Minho asks, easily shifting the focus off of himself.

You hesitate a moment, debating on whether it would be wise for you to talk about. But, Minho already shared with you even if it could be a risk for him to admit, so.. You decide to be honest. “There is. He.. is the best person I've ever known.”

“I thought so. Not to sound overconfident, but most women fall at their feet for a chance to speak with me,” Minho smirks and you laugh, the first genuine laugh you’ve had all evening. “Well, you are handsome. I may love someone else, but I’m not blind.” Your reply makes Minho laugh as well, the conversation turning into something you can actually enjoy.

“It’s good to know the Princess isn’t rejecting me for my looks. I can sleep assured about my handsome features tonight,” he jokes, and if you weren’t in public you’d most certainly slap him on the arm. You didn't expect his personality to be what it is, but you suppose that's one of the charms that draws people to him.

“The person you love– do they know how you feel?” He asks after a beat, and you frown, trying not to let too much emotion out as you speak. “I’ve never told him, nor my parents. I’ve wanted to, but.. I’m scared he won’t return my feelings, and.. He was born a commoner. People won’t approve of that.” Unconsciously, your gaze shifts away from Minho and turns towards Chan.

Minho notices, of course, and follows your gaze, seeing the way Chan is overtly staring at the pair of you dancing. Oh, he is in love with you, if the way he’s staring daggers into Minho is any indication. He almost wants to laugh at how oblivious you seem to be about it, but he also sympathizes.

He was there once– afraid to confess, afraid of what the reaction would be. And even now he’s still afraid of how his father will react if he ever confesses to his hidden relationship, so he’d be a hypocrite to tell you to not worry about it.

But at the very least, he can be on your side. He can be a friend, an encouraging presence, a person who understands what you are going through. “I think you should tell him how you feel. Even if things don’t turn out how you hope, at least you tried. I think that’s better than having never tried at all, and living with regrets.”

Honestly, he hopes you do confess your feelings, because he feels like he might burst into flames any second if your knight keeps staring at him with fire in his eyes. He’s so obvious, Minho isn’t sure how everyone else seems oblivious to it. But maybe he only recognizes that look in his eyes because he was there himself not too long ago, when others made advances on the person he loves most.

There’s a brief moment of silence as you contemplate Minho’s words. What is better? Accepting your fate as it is now and never telling a soul how you feel about Chan, or confessing your feelings and experiencing what it’s like to openly love Chan, only to have it ripped away from you when your family doesn’t approve? You really don’t know..

“Hey, if it doesn’t work out, maybe we do get married and act as each other’s cover,” he says jokingly, hoping it can make you feel comforted to some degree once he notices you being trapped in thought about what to do next. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you say with a small laugh, “Though if there is anyone I’d choose to be in a fake marriage with, it’d have to be you.”

Honestly, despite the unorthodox way it came to pass, it felt good to talk about your feelings for Chan. You didn’t have anyone to talk to about them, always keeping them completely to yourself. And you felt like you had a real friendship with Minho blossoming, one that could be maintained for years to come. “I enjoy your company. Platonically, of course,” you say with a smile.

“As do I, Princess,” he smiles back, “Want to cheer to a good friendship?” “Let’s!” You say enthusiastically, letting your dance come to a close and allowing him to lead you to toast refreshments.

If there was ever a time in Chan’s life he wishes he could disregard everything he’d ever been taught about rules and decency, it was now. He’s never felt so bitter in his entire life, the first time he’s ever felt spiteful at the unfairness of his situation.

“Thank you for talking to her, she looks to be enjoying herself much more now,” the queen says with delight as she leans towards Chan, ensuring that he hears her thanks. All it does is effectively rub salt into his open wound.

“..Yes, she does,” Chan says, having to put effort into sounding anything other than gutted. The jealousy sizzling in his veins, envious desire stuck like bile in his throat.

He knows you well enough to know what a genuine smile looks like on you. He recognizes your body language, can see all the minute and subtle changes. It makes him physically ill, watching you be so happy with a man he knows you are likely to marry. Chan knew he was selfish, but he never realized how jealous he was capable of being.

It was a luxury he didn’t realize he had– never having to see you in the arms of someone else. Sure, it was bound to happen, and he assumed he would be devastated when it inevitably occurred, but this? This all encompassing jealousy, this unadulterated greed– he doesn’t know how to process it, he doesn’t know how to calm himself down or mask it.

A realization zaps him suddenly, shocking his system as the feeling settles over him. He can’t let you go, he can’t put his feelings aside the way he thought he could. He’s not as strong as he thought he was, not as mature or as reasonable as he always thought himself to be. He can’t watch you be with someone else and be okay. If this is how he reacts to a situation so small, how will he feel when you actually marry?

He’s fucked. Truly, unequivocally fucked.

His body and mind scream at him to act, to do something, do anything, but what is there for him to try? What can he do that isn’t hopeless? No, even if it is hopeless, even if it doesn't change a single thing, he has to regardless. That’s what every nerve in his body screams at him– if there was ever a time for him to conjure his bravery and win you over, it was now.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the night's festivities finally draw to close, eager to finally relax after hours of dancing and talking. Minho made the night more bearable at least; it was much easier to get through the evening when you had a friend to cling to and keep a good deal of your other suitors at bay. As soon as you finished bidding your goodbyes to the guests that were in attendance, you rushed over to Chan so he could finally lead you back to the privacy of your room.

“Princess.. I’m sure you’re tired, but can you wait for me here for a bit..?” Chan asks, hoping the nerves he feels aren't being conveyed in his voice or facial expression. You tilt your head, slightly confused but agreeing anyways. You really have no reason not to after all, especially if it’s a request from Chan of all people. He smiles and thanks you, running off quickly while promising he wouldn’t take too long.

You stand in the center of the ballroom alone, wondering what on earth Chan is having you wait here for. He could also get in trouble for leaving you alone here without anyone to watch over you, but whatever he has planned must be worth the risk he’s taking.. Is he trying to make sure no one is going to come back so that the two of you can dance together?

The thought makes you excited if you're being honest– you always love dancing with Chan, but you hadn't had many opportunities to after he began training to be a knight. And you’d happily do so if he wanted to, even if your feet were screaming at you from exhaustion.

You also have to admit, you enjoy the idea that after watching you dance all day, Chan wanted to have one with you too, even if it had to be once the event was over and within privacy. You wait as patiently as you possibly can, watching the doors to the ballroom, eagerly waiting for them to open.

And when they do, and your eyes fall on Chan entering dressed in what is possibly the most beautiful suit you've ever seen, your heart feels like it's going to burst. "You stayed," he smiles as he steps closer, his dimples on full display. His unruly hair that normally falls over his face has been tamed enough to show his features more clearly, the full extent of his handsome face on display just for you.

“C-Chan, you– I, wow, you look–” You try to speak but you stumble over your words, his beauty leaving you even more speechless when viewed up close. It really is the most beautiful suit you've ever laid eyes on. Or maybe you only think so because he is the one wearing it? Either way, he looks so incredibly handsome that you feel almost dazed, your brain quickly malfunctioning as you stare at him.

Truthfully, he had to save his salary for months to afford a suit this nice. You lived in a world of extravagant gowns and beautiful jewelry, and he knew that if he ever got the chance to dance with you again, he wanted to look like he belonged with you– even if it was just this one time. You don't care about aesthetics, he knows that, but it's still something he wanted to do. Looking at him the way you are now, he knows it was all worth it.

He always wanted to belong in your world, to look like someone that a princess could be with. Soon enough, you’ll have to decide which of your suitors to marry, and on that day he will lose you. If this is the last opportunity he has to share a dance with you, then he wants to make the most of it. Even if it's just for this short moment, he'd like you to see him as something more than a friend or knight.

He wants to live in a bubble where it’s just you and him, where he can show you the side of himself he always wanted you to see. A bubble where only the two of you exist, where everything but each other is background noise. His every moment, all he sees is you, and he wants to be the only one you see in turn. No one in your eyes but him, his every word hanging in your ears and gesture embedding in your heart.

He will allow himself this final selfish act before he lets you go, before he has to bury his feelings and lock them away for good. He will dance with you not as your best friend, your knight, or your student who is still learning the steps, but as a man in love with his princess.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” Chan asks, smiling up at you as he bows, holding out his hand to you. You feel like your brain is short circuiting, all dance etiquette and rules leaving your mind as you stare at him. Your face has turned bright pink and your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, but you manage to nod and let your hand reach for his. How will you even survive this dance when he’s smiling at you like that while looking so devastatingly handsome?

Despite the glaring fact that all your knowledge is lost on you as he holds you closer, he leads you through your daze well. Humming melodies with his beautiful voice while he guides you through the steps– you feel like you’re in a dream. He’s looking at you so intently, smiling so charmingly between melodies, you feel like you’re melting. His eyes are sparkling with an emotion you’ve never seen on him before.

No, that’s not true. You have seen it. Fleetingly, in quick moments where it would flash on his features, a moment so small you’d miss it if you blinked. Moments like now, where it was just the two of you, free to be yourselves, to talk and laugh and dance with no restriction. Every time you noticed that look in his eyes, his expression would change in an instant, or he’d turn his face away and not let your eyes linger on it.

Affection? Care? Love? Is that the feeling that shows on his face when he looks at you? Is love the emotion that always makes him smile bashfully before he looks away from you? The one you sometimes catch, but is gone before you can really commit it to your memory? This is the first time you’ve been granted the pleasure of seeing it on his face for more than a few seconds, and it makes goosebumps erupt on your skin.

All you can do is stare as he leads you through the dance, the entirety of his being capturing your undivided attention. A shyness bubbles underneath the surface, neither of you used to staring at one another so overtly, but you couldn’t possibly turn your gazes away. You decide that if you did somehow fall asleep at some point and this is a dream, that you’ll enjoy it for all its worth.

You don’t know how he feels about you, really. At best you can guess, you can hope, but there’s no way for you to truly know. But what you do know is how you feel about him, and that’s enough, you think. It’s enough to make this moment the most special you’ve ever shared. It’s enough to lift up the shattered fragments of your heart and reconstruct them into something beautiful and new.

Does he love you as much as you love him? Regardless of the answer, you’ll never forget how you feel right now. A love beyond words, a happiness that transcends everything else.

Chan, who was feeling confident until now, begins to feel a stutter in his heart. He wanted to impress you, to show you the most ideal side of himself, to make you see him, really see him, in the way he desired to be seen. But now that you are looking at him with such ardor in your eyes, with his hands on your waist and your arms around his neck, he feels like his heart could burst.

Was he once again naive to think he could put his feelings to rest after this? Foolish to believe that this moment would be enough for him to part from you satisfied with what little he had?

Yes, he definitely was. Because the way you look at him now, he knows he can never go back to how things were before. He will want to see it again and again, paired with your sweet smile and cute mannerisms. Again, he realizes he's selfish. He doesn’t want you to look at anyone else this way, to give anyone else your affection, to smile at them the way you do at him. For better or worse, you’ll be there, in every thing he does and in every thought he has.

Most selfish of all, he wants to kiss you so badly, to claim you as his. He wants to pull you even closer, to feel your warmth against him, to tell you that you are all he ever has, and ever will see. It’s always been you that lights up his world, always been you that gives fire to his ambitions, always you that makes his heart race and palms clam up. Since he was a child, for as long as he can remember until now, you were his everything. You became his world, everything he does revolving around you, forever drawn to you.

Before he can stop himself, his lips are on yours, connecting with you in the way he’s always dreamed of. There’s no time for him to rationalize his choice or scold himself for giving in to his selfishness. Chan has always been weak when it comes to you, after all. Unconsciously, his hands hold you a bit tighter, though he himself is unsure whether that’s because he’s afraid to let you go or because it just feels right to have you in his grasp while he kisses you.

You blink in surprise, time feeling like it has slowed to a complete stop. You feel like the air has been knocked out of you, your brain desperately trying to catch up with reality and make sense of its own racing thoughts. When Chan pulls back, you can see a panic forming in his eyes, apologies lingering on his lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have, I–”

You pull him back to you before he can continue to ramble, continuing the kiss he started. He can’t regret this, can’t second guess letting the moment take him over; you won’t let him. You want to be lost with him, enveloped in his embrace and consumed by his touch, damn the consequences. You don’t care who catches you, you don’t care about what punishment either of you could receive; this is all you’ve ever wanted for so, so long.

And maybe you should care, maybe you should stop him, stop yourself, but you refuse. If pushing him away is right, then you’d rather be wrong. His world may revolve around you, but yours revolves around him just as much. You can’t live without him, can’t bear to be apart from him. You want to stay with him, even if it causes everything else around you to crumble.

You’re both breathless by the time you separate, his eyes searching over your face desperately for any sign of hesitation, because once he really has you, he’s never letting you go. “Princess, Y/N, I–” He pauses, words lodged in his throat, but his eyes convey everything. You see it, the clearest that you ever have.

“Do you love me?” You ask, watching intently as his face heats up all the way to his ears. “Please tell me. I love you, and I need to hear you say you love me too,” you all but plead, watching him swallow as he tries to conjure the words he wants to say.

He kissed you, so he can’t really deny it, but admitting it could make life even more difficult for you. Chan knows you well enough to know you’ll fight against your parents wishes, that you’d abandon your life here if it called for it, but can he let you do that?

This is the last chance he has to listen to reason and walk away, his last chance to bury his emotions down deep, his last chance to use even just a modicum of self control.. But no, that's not what he wants to do.

Selfish, selfish, selfish. That’s all he’s ever been with you, and maybe all he ever will be. Because as much as he logically knows he should let you go, he just can’t. Because the thought of anyone other than him kissing you fills him with dread. Because even if it makes your reality harder, it’s still all he wants.

All along, his answer has been there. He can’t turn away from you, and you won’t let him. Both of you are stubborn in your wants, both of you pulling to each other like magnets, unable to be drawn apart. That’s what makes you perfect for him, he supposes.

You're both a pair of reckless fools, willing to throw everything away for the other person. How can his answer be any different, especially when you’re looking up at him like this? Desperate to hear his answer, desperate to be loved by him and him alone.

“I love you. I always have, from the very beginning,” Chan confesses, “I know it’s wrong, I know I’m not supposed to love you, and I’ve tried to hold it back but.. I can’t stand watching from the sidelines anymore, I can't stand the thought of you being with someone else. I love you, and I want to be the one who spends his life with you.”

‘I’m not supposed to love you.’ You hate that he had that thought, but you understand why. No matter how close you became, even when he never treated you any differently from anyone else, he wasn’t oblivious to your difference in station. Neither of you ever let your circumstances affect your friendship, but that didn’t mean the difference between you wasn’t still there.

He recognized long ago that someone of his birth wasn’t meant to be with a princess, and he tried his best not to let his feelings for you show. You understood now too, why he became your knight despite all that it meant. Because he loved you, and that was the only way he could guarantee he would always be beside you. If he couldn't be your husband, that was the next best thing.

"If there is anyone in this world who deserves to marry me, it's you. It's always been you, I've never wanted anyone else," you say with full sincerity. There’s no one else you would ever pick, no one else you’d ever give your life to. No matter how much time passes, how your life changes and how far apart you may end up, the love you have for your best friend, your knight, will always remain.

He kisses you again, with all his love and affection poured into it. Years worth of repressed feelings bubbling to the surface like a wellspring. His self restraint dissolves, kissing you over and over again as if his life depends on the repetition of the action. He holds you tightly, squeezing you closely to him, in a gesture that is as full of desire as it is love.

You’re both breathless when he finally allows you to separate, lips swollen and red from the continued use. You lost track of time, having no idea how much or how little the minutes have passed. All you know is Chan’s all encompassing presence, and finally knowing the feeling of his lips against yours.

You don’t want the night to end here, you realize. You don’t want to return to your room and carry on tomorrow as if this never happened. You don’t want to pretend that you’re not impossibly in love with him, you don’t want to pretend you don’t know how his body feels pressed against yours, or how it feels to have his lips on you.

“Take me to your room, Channie,” you plead, and he swallows, your request making his heart race impossibly fast. The majority of knights live in barracks, but as a royal knight in charge of the princess’ protection, his room lies close to yours, separated only by a few halls.

But despite the relatively close proximity, you’ve never actually been to Chan’s room before due to the risk. Even with your friendship being apparent, going directly to his quarters and staying for a prolonged time ran the risk of spreading untoward rumors.

For royalty, their reputation is of the utmost importance, and while you didn’t care what people said behind your back, it was still something you had to be careful of for the sake of Chan himself. Even if you could easily recover from rumors, Chan wouldn’t be afforded that same luxury– it would undoubtedly follow him everywhere.

And this led to him often being in your room, using the pretense of his knighthood to enter your space and have private conversations and talk like friends, the way you did before he became your knight. But that was always during the daytime, and with other knights still standing out in the hall.

If those same knights saw him enter your room with you during the night, and not come back out until morning, it would certainly raise suspicions. Really, no matter what the two of you do tonight, there is risk, the probability of consequences you can’t come back from higher than it’s ever been.

“Are you sure..?” He asks, clearly worried about what could happen as a result. He wants to be with you, of course he does, but if it’s found out you stayed with him in his room for an entire night, the consequences wouldn’t be pretty. He needs to know you understand that, needs to know you want to be with him regardless of what could happen afterwards. You nod, resolve clear as you hold his hand tighter.

You were aware of the risks, but your love for him outweighed the concern. If anyone wanted to question you about being away from your room during the night, you had the confidence you needed now to fight for what you want. Now that you know he returns your feelings, you won’t let anyone get in the way of keeping you together, you’ll fight for it with all you have. And besides that, you're a princess. You were raised with the belief that the world was in the palm of your hands, so shouldn't you be allowed to have the things you want?

“I’ve thought about this a million times, Chan, I’m sure,” you tell him. Nothing will deter you from being with him– not anymore. “A million times, huh?” He teases with a smile as he pulls you along with him to exit the ballroom, his playful side coming back out as he leads you out to the hall and in the direction of his room. “Shut up,” you smile shyly as you slap his arm, a blush creeping across your face.

You have to suppress the giggle that threatens to leave you as you wind the halls together, a nostalgic sort of feeling welling in you despite this being the first time you are sneaking to his room like this. You snuck him into so many spaces, always sharing fond moments with him in secrecy, and really this is just an extension of that.

The roles may be reversed in this instance, but the way you hold each other's hand and smile at each other is the same. The way you speak in hushed voices, the way you contain your gleeful giggles and the way you look at each other with pure joy, it's all the same.

When you reach his room, he ushers you in the door first, following behind swiftly and locking the door behind himself. “Just a moment,” he speaks softly as he moves carefully past you, lighting the candles he has on his nightstand. You use the dim light to survey your surroundings (as much as is possible, anyways,) taking note of all the things that make his space different from yours.

Chan watches you with subtle amusement; his room really isn’t anything special, but you’re looking around it as if it’s the most interesting thing you could ever see. (And to be fair, it is a stark contrast from the luxurious space you’re used to living in.) His space, while decently sized, still pales in comparison to the size of your room. His furniture is much less exuberant in style, and bed significantly smaller than your own. But you like it better that way, you think– it feels homey.

There’s a moment of silence that follows, not necessarily awkward, but rather hesitant as you turn your attention back to Chan. He’s sitting on his bed, looking incredibly handsome even in the dim candle light. Or did that add to it? You aren’t really sure. All you really know is that the way the subtle illumination and shadows frame his face makes your stomach twist. He really is way too handsome for his own good.

Cautiously, you sit next to him, taking his appearance in more closely (despite the way it makes your heart feel like it’s going to implode.) He looks at you as well, taking you in just as attentively. Now that he can freely gaze at you without restriction, he wants to commit you to his memory. He wants to know your every blemish, every freckle and every line.

You’re so impossibly beautiful– you could appear to him covered in grime and wearing tattered rags and he’d still think you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Has he ever told you that? No, he doesn’t think he has. Every time he was awed by you, he’d look away before you could notice his blatant stare, never commenting outwardly on how incredible he thought you were.

“Can I kiss you again?” Chan asks tentatively, eyes full of eager trepidation. It may be beyond his capabilities to tell you how gorgeous you are, but he can show you. You nod, a small "yes" leaving your lips. His hands seek you out first, resting themselves on your waist before he kisses you again.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss, one that leaves you full of butterflies. All the romance novels you read couldn't have prepared you for how it actually feels to be in the moment, for how it feels to have his hands holding you firmly as he kisses you.

You want to move without restriction, you want to feel him closer, want to feel his touch on your bare skin. You separate, Chan watching you curiously as your face heats up in preparation for what you intend to ask. “Help me take off my dress?”

“W-What?” Chan stutters, bright red blush traveling from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Did he hear you correctly? He’s certainly mistaken, right? “I-I mean, unless you think I should keep it on for the rest of the night..?”

“N-No, right, of course not,” he says, swallowing as he watches you rise from the bed. He follows, hands trembling as watches you turn your back to him, waiting for him to help you untie your corset. He reaches out slowly, untying it as carefully as he can despite his shaking hands.

The layers of your dress follow rather quickly after that, eager to get all the extra weight off your body and allow yourself to feel Chan's touch directly. It's not until you're at the final layer that you feel shyness creep back on you, Chan's hand stilling on your shoulders as his own nerves pick up as well.

When he pulls it down, you'll be strictly in your underwear, the most exposed you've ever been to a man in your entire life. But as much as it makes you shy, it excites you almost equally as much. You turn around now, so that your back is no longer facing him. You cross your arms, placing your hands on top of his, looking up at his face as you guide his hands down your arms, pulling your dress down along with it.

He swallows, eyes following the path your hands lead him on, his face easily the hottest it's ever been in his entire life. You lower your arms once you are no longer able to guide his hands, letting the last piece of fabric fall to the floor around your feet.

Fuck, he really should be looking at you respectfully, but it feels impossible. You are standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear, and you encouraged it, guided him to remove your clothing with your own hands. God, you're going to ruin him.

"Can I?" You ask as you rest your hands on his chest, the buttons of his suit easily within your reach, ready to undo them the moment he gives his approval. He does so easily, even helping you with the buttons and letting it fall to the floor the same way you did with your dress.

You watch as he pulls the undershirt over his head, tossing it to the floor with everything else. Your eyes scan his torso, face heating up as you take in his toned physique. You assumed he was strong given his status, but you've never actually seen the proof of it until now. You'd be embarrassed for blatantly staring if not for the fact that he'd done the same to you just moments ago. It's only fair to stare at him as much as he stares at you– tit for tat, if you will.

Chan's hands reach for his pants now, but he stops before he proceeds with removing them, looking at you as if to ask if it's okay with you before he does. Well, if the eager glint in your eye is anything to go by, you certainly want him to. He pulls them down easily after gaining your approval, kicking them off the rest of the way, (perhaps a bit unceremoniously, given the unprecedented circumstances,) not worrying at all about where they land.

You look at each other, an electric tension filling the space between you. The juxtaposition between the bashfulness and the desire leaving you temporarily stuck in place, a silent battle being waged between ‘should I act, or shouldn’t I?’

It’s typical for the man to make the first move in situations like this, isn’t it? But since when have you adhered to the stereotypical things that were expected of you? You hesitated before now out of fear– fear of what could happen to Chan and fear of your feelings being unrequited, but the minute he laid his feelings out for you, you decided there was no more time for fear, no time for hesitation.

When you want something, you get it, and what you want right now more than anything is Chan, simple as that. You lay back on his bed now as if you own it, looking so relaxed, so assured, as you prop yourself up on your elbows and wait for him to return to your side. Fuck, do you even know what you're doing to him?

He slots himself between your legs, his body weight pressing down on you when he lowers himself to kiss you again. Your torso falls back against the bed when you lift your arms to hold his face in your hands, not letting the kiss break and dragging him back with you. His hands travel up and down your sides, always stopping just under the line of the fabric containing your breasts.

He pulls away from your lips, looking at you closely as he lets his thumbs under the fabric ever so slightly. He’s silently asking for permission again, you realize, searching your eyes for any semblance of hesitation or regret. There’s none to be found, of course– all you feel is desire, is love. You want this as badly as he does, undeniably so.

He pulls it up slowly, carefully, and you lift your back off the bed, allowing him to take it off you completely. You watch him swallow as he stares down at you, taking in the unfamiliar sight of your exposed chest. He’ll never admit how many times he envisioned this moment in his mind, but the reality is much better than anything his mind could have conjured up.

When Chan finally tears his eyes away to look at your face again, you offer him a smile, one that makes his heart stutter. It’s soft, yet completely radiant, and patient. There’s no need for you to rush him along, nor do you judge him for taking his time to look you over. When it’s something special, something you’ve both wanted for so long, with more intensity than you can express, why would you rush? It should be savored, with even the smallest of details committed to memory.

“I love you,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss you for what feels like the millionth time. His hands cup your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms for the first time, squeezing (gently, of course,) every so often. When the calloused pads of his thumbs rub over your nipples for the first time, and you let out the most sinfully sweet noise he’s ever heard, he’s done for.

He wants– no, needs, to hear it again. Again, and again, and again, all for him, only ever for him. The small, soft gasps, the shuddering breaths, the shiver that runs along the entirety of your body when he touches you– it’s addictive, so terribly addictive. “Channie–” you whine into his mouth, and he has to suppress the groan that threatens to leave his throat in response.

“Again,” he says as he begins to trail kisses beneath your ear and down the expanse of your neck, “Say my name again.” You oblige his request easily, each small whine turning into a soft moan of his name.

Your voice, so dovelike, its sweetness all encompassing, commandeering all his senses. His hands travel lower, rubbing over the plush territory of your thighs, his fingers always coming dangerously close to your center before being taken away.

He chuckles when you huff, a small pout on your lips that he finds adorable. He doesn’t mean to tease, but he has to admit he likes the reaction it grants him. “What’s wrong, darling? I didn’t think you were so impatient,” Chan says with an amused tilt in his voice, because at the end of the day, beneath all the shyness and desire that was at the forefront, he is still the playful person he’s always been.

“Don’t be mean, Channie,” you all but grumble, your pout growing larger. It’s not like you’re trying to rush anything, it’s just.. He knows what he's doing, and he’s doing it on purpose! Making you all needy for his touch, being so close to where you want him but not actually granting it to you.

He smiles, that dazzling one that makes your stomach twist, confirming that he does indeed know he’s tormenting you on purpose. “Apologies, my love. You’re just so cute when you pout.” You would definitely punch him if the statement didn’t make butterflies erupt in your gut. “Chan, please,” you shamelessly whine, and oh, how that instantly turns the tables back in your favor.

He’ll do anything for you, whatever you ask, everything he can offer, it’s yours. You realize that, don’t you? That even if he teases, even if he pretends he’s fine and not completely and utterly enamored by you, he can never actually resist you. “Tell me what you want, Princess. Anything you want, it’s yours. Anything.”

“I-I–” you start, but quickly stumble over your words. The way he’s looking at you, waiting with bated breath for your answer, eyes eager and so willing to give you his all– it sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow, willing your racing heart to calm so you can speak properly. “I want.. To feel you. Inside me.”

Chan’s breath catches in his throat, cock twitching unceremoniously in response. He wants to, it’d be pointless to pretend he doesn’t, but.. “Are– are you sure?” he asks, the question laced with genuine care despite how eager he is for you to say yes. He wants to care for you, wants to make love to you, to claim you as his in the sweetest of ways, but he doesn’t want you to move faster than you’re ready for.

Even if your confessions were a long time coming, even though there was years worth of yearning and desire, it’s still a lot to entrust yourself to someone like that. To trust them wholeheartedly, to grant them such pleasure and believe that they’ll take care of you in return.

And he needs to know that you understand the risks and the changes it will bring, and you aren’t saying it out of some spur of the moment obligation to please him. Because he’ll be happy, no matter how long he has to wait.

“Channie,” you place your hands on his face, forcing his eyes to stay locked on your own, “I love you so much. I want to do this with you.” You can feel his face heat up under your fingers, but he smiles– one that is shy, but at the same time full of unfiltered joy. Chan leans down to kiss you once more, showing you all the love and care that he can’t express with his words.

His hands resume their original path, tracing up and down your thighs for a few moments before he finally hooks his fingers into your underwear. He pulls them down slowly, not with the intent to tease you this time, but because he knows when he finally sees what is waiting for him underneath the fabric his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

You adjust your legs position to make the removal easier, watching Chan with nervous excitement. It is scary, you admit, being so exposed and vulnerable in front of someone else, but there is no one else in the world you trust more. No one but Chan makes you feel this safe and secure, and he’s shown you over and over how much love he carries for you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he admits for the first time aloud. Would it be cliche to compare you to a goddess? Maybe, but that’s the only thing that comes even remotely close to conveying how alluring he thinks you are. More radiant than even Aphrodite herself, with even the wonders of the world paling in comparison to you. “Gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

You watch him bring his hands to his own underwear, slipping them off with relative ease before settling himself comfortably between your legs. “I need to get you ready, okay darling? And then I promise, I’ll give you everything you want,” Chan speaks softly and you nod, entrusting yourself to him completely.

He’s never done this before, so he follows his instinct, doing whatever feels right in the moment. His fingers rub carefully between your folds, spreading around the wetness that accumulated there. Your breathing halts when the pads of his fingers press against your hole, body tingling with overwhelming desire. Slowly, carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside.

The sensation is unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant– in fact, the back and forth motion of his finger as it slides in and out quickly begins to draw soft whimpers from your lips. Soon enough, he’s adding a second finger, watching how they disappear in you with an almost mystified gaze. He can’t believe how snug you feel around his fingers, how wet and warm and fuck, he can’t even begin to imagine how good it’s going to feel around his cock.

“Ah-!” you gasp loudly when, after some exploration, his fingers find a bundle of nerves that makes every nerve in your body erupt in pleasure. Your head falls back against his pillows, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the slew of loud noises that threaten to leave you everytime he rubs over it again.

His fingers pump in and out at a steady pace now, not too fast as to overwhelm you, but enough to have stars constantly erupting in your vision. Your hands tightly grip the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and knot tightening in your gut unbelievably fast. Chan’s name leaves your mouth over and over between breaths and whines, like a looped mantra, the salacious melody you create music to his ears.

You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the loud whimpers and moans that rip through you as you come undone on Chan’s fingers. Would it be sacrilegious to call your noises heavenly when the reason for them is so sinful? He wishes more than anything he could hear them unfiltered, to allow them to flow freely from your lips without a care in the world about the volume and who could hear them.

He slowly stills his fingers as you come down from your high, taking in the sight of you and memorizing every detail. The rise and fall of your chest as you catch your breath, the rosy tint of your cheeks, the beads of sweat that linger on your brow, all coming together to create an ethereal image.

Chan plants soft kisses on your face as he gently slides his fingers out of you, complimenting you on how pretty you sound and beautiful you look. "Channie–" you start, and he smiles, knowing exactly what you intend to whine about. "Don't worry, my love. I'll keep my promise."

He takes his fingers, still wet with your release, and rubs them up and down his length, mixing his pre-cum with it along the way. As you watch you realize that his cock is much bigger than his fingers, and you wonder how it'll fit when just two fingers alone already felt like so much.

“Are you ready?” Chan checks in with you when he’s lined up with your entrance, ready to stop at a moment's notice if you decide this is too much too soon. He can see the subtle worry beneath the anticipation, notices the way you unconsciously hold your breath when he presses against you. It's true, you are nervous, but not enough so to make you change your mind. So you nod, and he moves one of his hands to yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Squeeze if you need to, okay? I'll go slow,” Chan assures you, placing a soft kiss on your temple before he begins. There’s a sharp intake of breath from you when he slowly begins to push inside, the sting being much more intense than you had anticipated. It goes beyond the discomfort you expected, eyes squeezing shut and your grip on his hand tightening.

The minute Chan feels you squeeze his hand tighter, he pauses just as promised. You open your eyes after a moment, looking up at Chan to try and push the sting to the back of your mind. He's breathing heavily, brows knit together in a combination of pleasure and concern, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

It takes all his self control to not get lost in the sensation around him, needing to make sure he takes care of you properly. He can't hurt you, can't lose himself before making sure you'll feel good too, needs to put you above all else.

"Do you need me to stop?" he asks, and you quickly shake your head no, expressing again how much you want to be connected with him in every way possible. Leaning down now, he kisses you until the discomfort subsides, whispering sweet words to you when he resumes the push, praising you over and over again until he's completely within you.

You're still squeezing his hand, not due to any pain or discomfort this time, but to ground yourself through the overwhelming sensation of Chan being deep inside you. He continues kissing you softly, going above and beyond to ensure that you're relaxed and comfortable. "Love you so much Channie," you tell him, and he smiles sweetly, heart so full of adoration and infatuation for you.

“Love you more,” he kisses you, ”so much,” another kiss, “never letting you go.” You giggle softly between his kisses, his words making your heart flutter. After graciously accepting a bit more of his doting, you soon notice that no trace of the initial sting or discomfort remains. In fact, being so full of him feels good, your body unconsciously seeking friction.

“Channie, I’m ready now, want you to move, please,” you beg with such a soft and cute voice, he knows there is no way he can resist. Well, not that he would ever deny you what you want in the first place. With one last kiss, and reassuring squeeze to your hand, he finally allows himself to move.

Slowly, as gently as he can, he pulls out, pressing back inside in one fluid motion when only the tip remains, repeating the action through shaky breaths and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Even with the languid pace, it's enough to drive him insane. Every detail of you, from the way you look, the way you sound, the way you feel wrapped around him, so snug and warm and inviting– it’s intoxicating.

Chan’s arms reach beneath you, hooking under your back and hands holding your shoulders, keeping your body closely pressed against his own. His face is buried in your neck, low groans beneath your ear, for you and you alone to hear. You make your own effort to keep him close as well; one hand tangling in his curly hair and the other tightly gripping his bicep.

He’s going slow, not just for your sake, but for his own. Because if he doesn’t he’s going to blow, because he wants to live in this moment for as long as he possibly can, because being close to you like this is everything he’s ever dreamed of. You’re his, finally his, and he wants it to last, wants to indulge in the feeling and the emotion of being your chosen lover.

It takes him a few tries to find the spot that makes you see stars with just his cock, but he knows he’s found it when you (unwittingly) let out a loud moan, nails digging into his skin and eyes rolling back. He picks up his pace now, chasing the sound of your pleasure-filled voice, wanting to hear you call his name over and over again.

He kisses you again when your combined noises begin to grow in pitch, muffling one another in a desperate attempt to keep the sounds of pleasure confined to the 4 walls of Chan’s room. You want to be quiet, you know you should be, but you truly can’t help it. But if he’s being honest, he likes that you can’t keep your voice down, likes that he’s making you feel so good that you can’t suppress it.

Chan is getting close now, and he pulls himself away from your lips, wanting to look at you once more before his approaching orgasm overtakes him. Even now, when you're breathless, cheeks red and hair sticking to your forehead due to the sweat, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

"Wanna cum in you," he manages to say between his low moans, “will you let me, please? Need to fill you up, need to make you mine forever, just like I'm yours."

Once again, your stomach flips, the words having an immense effect on you. "Y-Yes, yes, cum in me, I'm yours, only yours," you answer easily, wanting nothing more than to feel (and watch) him come apart because of you. His pace stutters following your permission, thrusts growing quick and sloppy as he chases his high, groans turning into drawn out whines.

The faster pace sends you reeling, toes curling has the knot in your stomach tightens and snaps in quick succession. You pull Chan back down to you, kissing him deeply as you cum around his cock, both to muffle yourself and as a gesture of the all consuming love you feel for him. He lets out soft, desperate whimpers as he releases inside you, ropes of cum painting your walls white.

You both stay like that for a few moments– breathlessly wrapped in one another's embrace, sharing soft kisses as you come down from your highs, soft admissions of love leaving your lips. You wince when Chan’s softening length pulls out of you, feeling extremely sensitive following the loss of your virginity.

Chan blows out the candles before he lays down next to you, leaving the moonlight coming through his window as the only illumination. He intended to pull you close to him, but he didn't have to– you snuggle up to him the moment you can, laying your head on his chest and wrapping your arm around his torso, legs tangling with his.

His racing heartbeat begins to slow, an extreme relaxation sweeping over his body. He closes his eyes, your soft breathing serving as his own personal lullaby. Carefully, he reaches his free arm out for his blanket, pulling it over to cover your nude bodies.

He’s nearly asleep when he hears you softly call his name, voice quiet but still loud and clear in his ears. “What is it, darling?” he asks as he opens his eyes and lifts his head to look at you. There’s a moment of silence that follows as you consider how best to voice what you want to say, but Chan is patient, looking at you with a soft gaze.

“Do you.. Think we can really get married?” You finally ask, and Chan’s heart squeezes in his chest when you do. He can hear the tremble in your voice so clearly, feels the way you hold him tighter as you wait for him to answer.

If he’s being truthful, he doesn’t know. It’s what he wants, what he hopes for more than words can express, but just doesn’t know. And it breaks his heart to see you like this– clearly vulnerable and unsure. You’ve always sought out Chan for comfort, but it’s different this time. Different because you now know the depths of love you both share, the desire to always be together and the fear that you’ll be driven apart.

You’ll fight for your love, of course you will, because there is no happiness to be had if Chan isn’t by your side. But you don’t want to have to fight for it, you don’t want either of you to suffer, you don’t want Chan to be driven away from you by people who don’t understand and don’t value him for who he is. You want your love to be accepted, to openly profess your love, to marry the only person you’ve ever had eyes for.

Tears are welling in your eyes, and he can see them even in the dim moonlight. “Y/N..” he uses his free arm to reach for your face, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall with his thumb. “I’m going to marry you. No matter what I have to do, I will,” Chan tells you, voice gentle but resolute. He meant it when he said he’s never letting you go, meant it when he said he’ll always be yours and always be beside you.

He doesn’t know what the future holds– if things will come easy for you both, or if you’ll have to fight tooth and nail just to be with each other. But he knows that no matter what the answer is, he will be with you. Whether in your toughest moments or happiest, he’ll be there. Holding your hand, giving you his love, sticking with you until the end of his days.

Whether it’s tomorrow, months, or even years from now, he’ll be your husband. You’ll be the one he shares his life with, the one he starts a family with, the one he sees every morning and every night. He’ll hold you close, starting your days with ‘I love you’s’ and ending them with the same, giving you all he has to give.

“No matter what happens, we’ll get through it together, okay? I love you so much,” Chan says and you nod, a soft smile on your face as you wipe your eyes and lay your head back down against him. “Love you, Channie.” He kisses your head softly, urging you to relax, to fall asleep, and not worry about what could be, but indulge in what is.

Indulge in the love you share, the feeling of closeness as you lie together in his bed, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear and his gentle reassurances. He’ll still be here when you wake up, will keep you in his arms, holding you close and making sure you know how much he adores you, how much he loves you. Because no matter what the future brings, you still have this moment. You still have each other.

#skz x reader #bang chan x reader #skz smut #bang chan smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz angst #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 2 years ago

Text

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 - Tom Bennett

Oh boy, this one's...a lot lmao. My first fic of the year and probably the only one for awhile. I was so stoked to write it so hopefully anyone who reads this is stoked about it too. This took so long, especially cause I have a super tedious boring class this semester, hence why I'm not writing as much as I used to. But here it is, primed and ready for ya. Enjoy!

Summary: You and Tom work at the same FBI agency, the both of you having a tense rivalry. Sprinkle a little friends-with-benefits relationship on top of that while going on an undercover mission where you must get along to get the job done, what could go wrong?

Warnings: modern!special agent!Tom Bennet, undercover mission (haha the title, get it, okay..), enemies (?) to lovers/rivals to lovers, more like FWB to lovers, Tom's kind of a dick (so is reader) but like to protect himself (and some misogyny, also to protect himself), smoking, tw guns (violence and injury), slight whump, oo boy this one's gotta lot of gratuitous SMUT (MINORS DNI), dubcon-ish, fingering, forced exhibitionism, public sex (kinda)...on a plane, oral (m and f!receiving), ANGST and feels, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, kinda toxic relationship, confessions, eventual fluff, light dom/sub vibes, orgasm denial and control, slight praise kink and degradation, conveniences will convenience (all I know about undercover missions is what I watched on White Chicks okay, so don't expect some well thought out plans)

word count | 10.8k (oops)🤙🏻

You weren’t planning on signing up for a high risk mission when you went into your agency’s meeting this morning, but something overtook you when you learned Tom would be going on this mission as well.

You never planned to care about him ever since the two of you got involved. You were just coworkers with a little something on the side, nothing serious. In fact, the two of you hated each other ever since you started working with him. You both always took every chance to one up each other, trying to clamber over one another to get higher rankings in your profession, never hesitant to step on each other’s toes to succeed.

The two of you only started hooking up almost a year ago. You were both drunk, celebrating another hard won mission and it just happened. You both were lonely, your profession not always making it easy to trust someone who’s not yourself. It was purely transactional. But then Tom started being more vulnerable with you, making you laugh and happier than you had been before you met him. It made your head spin. You thought about calling it off immediately, but the sex was just so good, his company even more, and you did actually start to care for the man.

Though, it made your rivalry at work dial the intensity up to eleven, taking out your frustrations on each other when the sun went down. But the look Tom was giving you after you had volunteered to your director, you had a feeling your benefits relationship might end sooner than you’d like.

After the meeting ended, you walked out with the onslaught of other agents that were desperate to beat the five o'clock traffic to get home. But you were yanked back by Tom, him grabbing your arm and forcing you to trail behind your other coworkers. “Take it back.” He seethed.

“What?” You bit back, your brows furrowing and instinctively trying to pull back from him.

“What? You know what. Tell our director you changed your mind.”

You scoffed, ripping your arm out of his bruising grip. “No, fuck you.”

“You did this to annoy me, I get it. Good job, you fucking succeeded, now take it back. This is my mission. I don’t need you getting in my way.”

“I’m just as good of an agent as you, dickhead. If anything, you’d be in my way. Now stop complaining, cause I’m not gonna change my mind. So, are we done now? Or are you going to continue whining like a little pussy?”

Tom only growled in response as he stormed off, throwing a tantrum like he often did when he didn’t get his way. It didn’t deter you. This mission would do wonders for your career, it would surely boost your rank to a higher level. No amount of whining from anyone was going to make you miss that opportunity.

Suffice to say, Tom didn’t show up for his nightly visit at your apartment. It was probably for the best, he’d just spend the entire time trying to make you quit the mission. But you were too determined, and you weren’t one to chicken out. You needed to prove to yourself that you could take on a mission such as this.

When you came into work the next morning for the debriefing, Tom was standing up against his car smoking a cigarette, clearly waiting for you. You only scoffed and walked past him, but he didn’t take too kindly to that. “Have you changed your mind yet?” He asked as he stood in front of you to block your path, blowing smoke in your face because he knew how much that annoyed you.

“Like I said yesterday, Bennett: I’m not changing my fucking mind.”

This time when you tried to walk past him, he let you. You could hear him angrily stomping out his cigarette with the sole of his shoe before he sped up to walk beside you into the agency building.

You, Tom, and your handler all lined up in front of your director to go over what the mission would entail. It was intense, the most difficult mission you would probably ever have. You were tasked with helping catch a crime boss. The man would be at a hotel on an island resort in the middle of the Caribbean. Your agency’s sources say that he’s planning on making a big deal in order to gain a new ally. Guns, ammunition, drugs, so many things you both would need to be on the lookout for. It was intimidating to be sure, but not enough to scare you away like you knew Tom was hoping for. No, you wouldn’t give in that easily. You were up for the task. You wanted to do anything you could to put away such an evil man.

But clearly, Tom didn’t notice the pure determination on your face as you walked out of the debriefing. “How ‘bout now?”

“Nope. Stop asking. I’ll keep telling you the same thing again and again.”

“This isn’t some low risk mission, L/n. We’re not trying to catch a fuckin’ lowlife predator here. This is a crime boss. An extremely dangerous man that can have us killed with one word if he even suspects what we’re doing there. Don’t you get that?” Tom whisper shouted, trying not to draw attention to himself despite the outburst, poking into your collarbone roughly.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

“Stupider.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know what I’m getting myself into, Bennett. I wouldn’t have signed up otherwise.” Honestly, it wasn’t the danger of getting killed that made you nervous about this mission, it was the fact that you and Tom would have to pretend to be newlyweds on your honeymoon. A perfect cover for where you two were going. It almost made you laugh.

All your time preparing to travel to this island, Tom would barely talk to you, only glaring at you and giving you one word responses or hums whenever you’d try to talk to him. If he wanted to be petty, fine. You could be petty too, not in front of your boss though, unfortunately. You were sure if your boss knew what you and Tom got up to outside of office hours, he would not be sending you on this mission with him. Although it was well known how you and Tom rivaled with each other throughout the workplace, you had to be somewhat professional, up until you were alone with him of course. You had no idea how you’d be able to share a bedroom with him without resorting to killing each other…or refrain from hate fucking each other. Even the morning plane ride over would be difficult, especially with the way Tom kept looking at you.

“Ya know, it wouldn’t be too late to back out. No one would judge you.” Tom spoke up as you both were waiting to board your flight.

You just kept your mouth shut tightly, just so not in the mood to argue with the man at such an early hour, especially since you weren’t able to have caffeine. You prayed you could just sleep all during the flight without arguing or crying babies. There weren’t babies on the plane, but Tom didn’t seem to notice your purposeful ‘don’t talk to me’ bitch face. Either that, or he just didn’t care.

“I still don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Bennett? No, I didn’t, so shut the fuck up.”

Tom only smirked, smug that he managed to get under your skin once again. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He whispered, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat.

“Oh, the feeling is mutual.”

The animosity didn’t end there like you hoped it would, instead Tom took it upon himself to try to embarrass you as much as possible. You gave him a stern look as you started to feel his hand reach underneath your thin blanket to trail up your thigh. “Do not.” You scowled, trying to push his hand away but ultimately failing. He was too strong.

You inhaled sharply as he cupped your center roughly, wincing before glaring at him. Your glare faltered as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “You think you can talk to me that way?” He teased gruffly, forcing his hand in your sweatpants and underwear, a surprisingly soft smile pulling at his lips as he felt the slick that was pooling at your entrance. “Whore.”

You gripped onto his forearm tightly as he toyed with your clit, purposely digging your nails into his skin to try to get him to stop, but all he did was wince and pinch you, causing you to gasp. You quickly put your hand over your mouth and subtly looked around to see if anyone noticed, but everyone seemed to be sleeping or occupied with something else. Truthfully, no one was even thinking of glancing in your direction, but you were so paranoid that you’d be caught. “I don’t want to get an indecent exposure fine, Bennett.” You snarled, trying to come off as angry as you were, but Tom’s fingers had already tamed you into a state of submission as they had done so many times before. It wasn’t any less irritating, but god, he was good with his hands.

You flinched in your seat as Tom pushed two of his fingers inside you right off the bat, your eyes briefly rolling to the back of your skull, trying not to moan by taking slow deep breaths. You were suddenly very thankful that you spent so many of your younger years trying to keep as quiet as possible while masturbating so as to not alert any potential family members in the same house of what you got up to in the privacy of your own room, but this felt way more difficult.

You whimpered into your palm as Tom’s dexterous fingers curled against that sensitive spot along the front of your walls, biting into your own skin to keep your whines in your throat, your brows furrowing obviously to anyone that might pay attention. “Fuck.” You cried softly, looking up at Tom with pleading eyes as your chest heaved against your now suffocating t-shirt. “I can’t.”

“You can, darling.”

To make matters worse, the seatbelt sign turned off.

People around you started to rise up out of their seats to get stuff out of their carry-ons or go to the bathroom, and the flight attendants started to make their rounds to give the passengers their stupid complimentary peanuts. And of course, a flight attendant peaked around your row with a smile right as you felt your climax grow rapidly. You bit the inside of your lip hard, feeling the metallic taste of blood coat your tongue.

“Hello there, we’re handing out some crisps, pretzels, and candy if you’d like any.” The lady asked you politely, hopefully completely unaware of what was going on beneath your blanket. You quickly shook your head, a pained hum escaping your lips as Tom focused his efforts on your clit. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Just a stomachache.” You lied, the wavering timbre in your voice bringing a sympathetic frown to the flight attendant’s face.

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I can bring you a Sierra Mist, if you’d like?”

Jesus Christ, lady, just fucking go away. “No, thank you. Really, I’m fine.” You cleared your throat a bit too loudly to cover up an oncoming moan, your face flushing with heat as a couple people from other rows looked over at you curiously.

“Okay. And how about you?” The lady directed her attention to Tom, who did not even attempt to hide his smug smirk. “Would you like any snacks, sir?”

“No, thanks, miss. I brought my own.” Cheeky bastard.

“Okay, well, we’re almost to our destination. So, make sure all your belongings are overhead before we land.” And with that, the flight attendant finally left you to continue suffering.

“I’m going to kill you.” You hissed, slapping Tom’s shoulder as you allowed your head to lean back against the chair as you felt the first pangs of euphoria wash over you. You grit your teeth and leaned forward to cover your face with your hands, hiding your orgasm face from Tom and the rest of the plane. You took shuddering breaths as you rode out your high, tapping his arm aggressively when pleasure veered into oversensitivity.

You felt your ears pop as the plane lowered closer to the ground. You didn’t even realize the pilot had spoken before you felt the plane bank to the right, unintentionally forcing you to lean closer to Tom, whose face you couldn’t even stand to look at. He pulled his hand away from you, making you look at the mess you made on his fingers. You looked away in fury as he started to suck on his fingers, quietly moaning at the taste of you. You could hear his chuckles as you refused to watch him mock you.

“Hope you had a good flight!” The same flight attendant lady chirped as you and Tom exited the plane.

Fuck you, you so badly wanted to say, but Tom didn’t allow that. As if he could sense your hostility (that he caused) and unwillingness to imitate niceties, he quickly uttered out a polite thanks before guiding you off the plane like you were a child who couldn’t take care of themselves.

Man, this was going to be a long, miserable “vacation.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed with the honeymoon suite you’d be staying in. Though, checking in was a nightmare. You never thought pretending to be all coupley and in love was part of the job description. Alas, you walked into the lobby with Tom’s arm around your shoulder and the two of you wearing the most genuine fake smiles you could muster. One plus was you had already spotted one of the crime boss’ henchmen.

“Are you sure?” Tom had asked.

Of course you were sure. You had studied every picture of every face the agency presented you with, down to the freckles and moles they may have had. You weren’t going to fuck this up, you’d never live it down; Tom would make sure of it.

You both informed your handler that you made it safely to the resort, already finding evidence that the crime boss was indeed there too. You just had to lay low, look out, and not get caught. This is what you lived for, it was so exhilarating and you wouldn’t let Tom ruin this for you.

“We should head down to the pool, see if we can spot another guy.” You voiced, pulling out your bathing suit from your suitcase, but Tom stopped you by placing a hand on yours. “What, Bennett? We can’t waste time on this.”

“You still haven’t paid me back for what I did for you on the plane.” He spoke with a dark lust in his eyes, his pupils almost completely swallowing his bright blue iris’.

You rolled yours. “I didn’t ask for that, if you recall.” You said with a scoff and moved to get changed, but he didn’t let you go, instead forcing you to your knees where you found his already hardened cock trying to burst through his tight shorts. You silently cursed to yourself as you already found yourself throbbing at the sight of him looking down at you hungrily.

“Well? My cock ain’t gonna suck itself.”

You resisted the urge to smile, lifting your hand to gently palm his cock through his shorts before tugging them down, your mouth watering as it bobbed up at you. Tom hummed as you licked a stripe up the underside of his dick, even the slightest of approval making you whine as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Uh, uh.” Tom rebuked, lifting you up from the floor to make you sit at the edge of the king sized bed, forcing your legs apart and standing in between them. “None of that. No pleasure for you. Just be a good little whore and suck me off.” He threaded his fingers into your hair, curling his hand into a fist to tug at your roots, pushing you forward until your lips hit the tip of his cock. On instinct, you wrapped your lips around him and sucked hard, earning a guttural groan from him. “That’s it.” He didn’t hesitate to buck into you, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag just to tease you. He kept doing that until tears were streaming down your face, causing him to smirk. “So pretty.” He whispered, wiping a tear away with his thumb, but continuing to fuck your mouth with little care how you felt.

Meanwhile, you didn’t know if you were crying because his cock kept making you gag or because you had absolutely zero stimulation to your clit. It was throbbing painfully, and Tom still kept your legs apart. Was this still punishment for talking back to him on the plane? He was one of the most pettiest men you had ever known, so you wouldn’t put it past him. But not allowing you to pleasure yourself felt like a new low, even for him.

Your hands gripped onto his thighs, squeezing them whenever you needed a break, him pulling away briefly to let you breathe before slamming back into you again. But he was close, you could tell. The way his moans got louder and breathier, and his hold on you tightened to the point you were almost afraid he’d rip the hairs out of your head. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” He announced with a groan, stilling in your mouth as his release shot down the back of your throat.

Tom slowly loosened his hold on you as he tried to catch his breath, petting and soothing the spot on your head where he gripped the hardest. “Okay…” He spoke with a stutter. “Yeah, let me clean up and I’ll meet you at the pool in a few minutes.” And with that, he left you sitting on the bed while he locked himself in the bathroom.

Well, that was a little odd, you thought. But you didn’t think about it any further. You quickly got changed and headed down to the pool, hoping a short dip would rid you of the overwhelming heat you felt in your body from not being able to do anything about your arousing situation. No matter, if Tom wasn’t going to help you out then you’d just get yourself off in the shower that night. You had bigger issues to deal with at the moment.

Scanning over the crowd at the extravagant looking pool, you couldn’t seem to spy any persons out of the ordinary. Just a bunch of families and couples and the occasional old rich woman. Feeling a bit disheartened, you sat down on a poolside chair with a quiet huff, throwing your towel over the backrest and laying out, the sun quickly warming your skin. It felt nice, but it would feel even nicer if you knew you weren’t on the clock.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Tom’s voice jolted you out of your sunbathing intermission, now sporting his own pair of swimming trunks and tank top, any sign of being flustered from your previous tryst was completely gone. Only now, you could tell he was flustered for a different reason.

It probably wasn’t necessary, but you had bought a bit of a slutty bathing suit for this occasion. You figured if on the off chance you had to seduce a criminal, it would be best to do it in an outfit that showed off all your…assets. It definitely seemed to be working on Tom. Maybe it could work on someone else. “My super special undercover swimsuit. What about you, Mr. Palm Trees?” You teased, eyeing his obnoxious colored print on his shorts.

“It’s called looking the part, wife. We’re on our honeymoon, not a dating show.” And with that, Tom lifted his tank up and off himself, the sight of his toned torso making heat flood to the apex of your thighs. He smirked when he caught you staring. “Think you’re drooling a bit, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” You chided, but it only made Tom chuckle. You huffed in defeat, returning to your previous position of subtly checking out the tenants around the pool.

“We should go in.” Tom gestured to the pool, but before you could refuse, “We have to look believable, remember? Who goes to a pool and doesn’t get in the water?”

You couldn’t hide your clenched jaw as you rose from your seat, standing at the edge of the concrete ground and delicately dipping your toes in the chlorine loaded water to check the temperature. It wasn’t too cold, but you’d definitely wanted to slowly ease your way in. Unfortunately, Tom didn’t give you much of a choice, promptly pushing you off the edge. Your body tensed up as the cool water enveloped you, goosebumps rising all over your body as you quickly came up for air, gasping loudly. You wore a deep scowl on your face as Tom’s boisterous laughter polluted the area, able to hear it even when you were submerged. “Arsehole.” You spat, splashing water up at him aggressively.

“So, you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing to me if you had the chance?” He raised a brow, his crooked smile on display, the sight making unwanted flutters swirl in your stomach.

“Touché.” You grumbled. “Still a dick move.” Tom didn’t waste anymore time on land, crouching and leaping into the water, careful not to let the water go above his head. He swam over to you with a mischievous look on his face, and to you, that only meant one thing. “Don’t come anywhere near me.” You warned.

“Oh, come on, Mrs. Bennett. I don’t bite.” He teased, taking your unamused expression as a sign to grab your hips and pull you onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding you up by your bottom effortlessly thanks to the water. You had no choice but to let him, not willing to risk your cover. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders reluctantly, trying your best to wear a loving smile on your face. But you soon faltered as Tom leaned in close, his lips right next to your ear. “I know this isn’t what you wanted when signing up for this mission, but you have to at least tolerate it. Behind closed doors when no one is around, you can bitch and whine all you like; but in public, you have to be in love with me.” He pulled away to look into your eyes seriously. “Understand, wife?”

You swallowed your pride and smirked seductively. “I understand, dear husband.” You took advantage of his slight surprise and captured his lips in a searing kiss, the cold feeling of the water not comparing to how heated this kiss felt. Tongue and teeth clashed with each other as you retaliated in the only way you could at that moment, biting his bottom lip hard before pulling away with a sickeningly sweet smile. Tom’s eyes darkened as he gripped your hips tighter, causing you to wince. He looked as though he was going to lean back in for another kiss, but you spotted someone, in the corner of your eye. You hugged Tom, using the position to whisper in his ear just as he’d done to you. “Another henchman.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s a bulge at the base of his spine, covered by his shirt and jacket.”

“Who wears a jacket at a pool?”

“Exactly. 9 mm is my guess.”

“That’s a lazy guess. Wanna bet? .38.”

“Wow. Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“Wait-”

You quickly interrupted him by pushing his head below the water’s surface, ruining his perfectly styled up hair. He came up with a scowl, ready to scold you, but before you could allow him to, you pushed him off and you got out of the pool. Drying yourself off and giving a wink to a now distressed Tom, you made your way to one of the bars that served the hotel guests.

You were a decent actor, but you had no idea if it would be convincing enough to fool the henchman of an intelligent criminal; you had to try, if you wanted to get information early on. The smallest piece of info may help.

With your margarita in hand, you played oblivious to the figure in your path, knocking into him and hearing the glass shatter on the pavement. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, sir!” You exclaimed, pulling an embarrassed face and getting on your knees to start cleaning up your mess. You hide your smirk as the man quickly stopped you, apologizing for being in your way. You could tell the way his eyes bulged and ran over your body that you made the right decision picking a skimpy bathing suit. Hook, line, and sinker.

“You should watch where you’re going.” The man, who introduced himself as James, said with a smirk, his tone holding no semblance of anger or irritation. “I’m sorry about your drink, maybe you’ll let me buy you another one?” Wow, bold. It made you feel like bile was going to come up your throat any moment, but you plastered on your best fake smile.

“I’d love that. You’re so sweet.” You giggled, “subtly�� running your hand down his arm, his eyes piquing with interest.

“I’ve been told that before, yes.” He gently guided you over to the bar, lifting his arm so that it slightly touched your upper back, his jacket lifting just enough for you to be able to see the pistol sticking out of his pants.

.38. Damn.

Your little acting display got you this far, you supposed you might as well take it up a notch. This man didn’t know how many drinks you’ve already had. Maybe that ruined margarita was your fourth or fifth one of the day. Hell, you were on vacation. So, you decided to be a little drunk as you sipped on your new drink, graciously paid for by a dangerous criminal. “You don’t look like you’re here on vacation, no offense.” You slightly slurred. “I mean, who wears a business suit at a resort?”

James laughed, albeit a bit nervously, but answered you anyway. “I’m not here on vacation unfortunately. This is, ultimately, a bit of a business trip.”

“Meeting with some rich CEOs?”

“Something like that.”

You grinned. “Oh, a mysterious man. I like that.”

“And why are you here, hm?”

You wore a tired expression, lifting up your left hand to show off the fake wedding ring on your finger. “Honeymoon.”

“You don’t seem to be happy about that.”

You shrugged, taking more sips of your drink, the low levels of alcohol being barely enough to give you that liquid courage you could’ve probably used. “He’s a drag. Boring.”

“Let me guess…he has money.” You gave him a knowing smile.

“Don’t judge. A woman has needs.”

“Oh, I’m sure she does.” He inched closer to you. “But I’m sure he doesn’t satisfy all your needs.” The urge to throw up came back. The idea of being with someone other than Tom made you ill. But you had a job to do, no matter what it takes.

You took every opportunity you could to snoop around that man’s room. He must’ve been one of the dumb ones, you could spot his gun briefcase peeking out from underneath his bed. A rookie hiding spot. You got lucky, really lucky. So lucky that he fell asleep pretty quickly after the fact. Prime snooping time.

Every second that passed, the hammering in your heart grew faster. You rummaged through desk drawers, bags, cabinets, closets; the only thing you found as evidence was a post it note briefly detailing the time and place the meeting with the crime boss would take place. How amazing just a simple little note could have so much power.

You let yourself smile as you quietly escaped the James’ hotel room, making your way to the elevator and pushing the button to your floor. You could finally take a sigh of relief, the nerves slowly but surely exiting your body; that is, until the elevator doors opened to reveal Tom standing there waiting for you, his body leaned up against the wall opposite of the elevator.

“Had fun?” He snarled with contempt, his lips curled into a malicious sneer, his eyes dark. You rolled your eyes, way too exhausted to deal with his hot and cold nature. You walked out of the lift and tried to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your upper arm tightly, forcing you to him. “Are you forgetting that we’re supposed to be a couple on their honeymoon?” Tom seethed, loosening his grip on you when he saw the slightly pained look on your face.

“No. I just saw an opportunity to get some intel, which we need if you’ve forgotten.” You snapped back, tugging back to get completely out of his grip.

“You could’ve done that without fucking the enemy. Jesus, I can smell it on you.” He frowned in disgust.

“It wasn’t even good, if it makes you feel any better. You jealous, Bennett?”

Tom surprised you when he said nothing. No reply, no witty comeback. His frown only deepened as he walked back to your hotel room, not looking back to see if you followed or not. You were almost afraid to, as if you hadn’t just risked your life mere minutes ago. You had nowhere else to go, so you followed, silently watching as he slid the key in and unlocking the door. You both still said nothing as you walked further into the room, taking off your shoes and sitting down on a chair adjacent to the bed.

“I found out where the meeting is going to be, and when.” You spoke up timidly, gaining Tom’s attention, his gaze on you heating up your face.

“You found that out back there?”

“Yep, so you can’t tell me it didn’t pay off.”

He nodded curtly. “Right. Well, I’ll contact our handler and we’ll pass on that information.”

It wasn’t like Tom to be so…compliant. He always had something to say, even when the situation didn’t call for it. You figured he just loved the sound of his own voice for a while. But now he was quiet, stoic, he barely even pitched in when you were talking to the handler about what you found. Was he really that upset that you got info before he did? How petty of him, at least that didn’t change.

“It was a .38, by the way.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “What?”

“That man’s gun. You were right.” He only let out a hum of acknowledgment. “What? You’re not gonna brag like you normally do when you win a bet?”

He shrugged. “We have a long weekend ahead of us. I’m not gonna waste my energy on stupid bets.” He snapped, walking out to the balcony to smoke a cigarette. You huffed in irritation, flopping down against the bed, watching the slow whirl of the ceiling fan.

Tom still was out smoking as you were getting ready for bed, showering and changing into your pajamas with a frown on your face. You quickly got tired of the silent treatment, joining him out on the balcony that seemed to look over the whole resort. “You chain smoke now?” You teased, earning a glare from the man. “Seriously, what’s up your ass, Bennett?” You snickered, stopping with a flinch as he turned to you suddenly.

“Do you realize how stupid that was?” Tom growled lowly, putting out his cigarette angrily and tossing it over the railing.

“You just littered.”

“Jesus Christ!” He grumbled, running his hands over his face in frustration, looking at you in exasperation. “You’re not even listening to me!” He shook you by your shoulders, making you finally start to take him seriously. “You shouldn’t have done that, Y/n.”

You scoffed, pushing him off you. “I got us valuable information. You should be happy, Bennett.”

“Well, sorry, I’m fuckin’ not.”

“Okay, well, there’s nothing I can do about that now. What’s done is done. I’m tired of you being pissed at me all the damn time for doing my job. Just keep being your indifferent self from now on, please.”

Tom growled, pushing you up against the railing of the balcony with a hand on your throat. “You weren’t supposed to be here! But of course you had to be here. Tagging along, like a tick on a fuckin’ dog. God, you’re insufferable.” He ranted, finally letting you go when you didn’t falter, but unaware how hurtful he was being with his words but you only chuckled bitterly.

“Oh, I’m aware. You’ve made that clear ever since we even started this mission. But trust me, I regret it now. If I could, I’d leave this island and never bother you again.” You huffed. “God, do you wanna outrank me so bad that you’d do this mission by yourself?”

Tom huffed. “It’s not that-! Ugh, you shouldn't be here because it’s dangerous! You could’ve died earlier! If that man wasn’t as dumb as you thought he was, he could’ve killed you! Then what would we do? What would happen to this mission, your friends and family, to me?” He snapped, taking you by surprise.

“To you?” You asked timidly, your heart pounding in your chest as Tom’s expression softened at the sight of your unshed tears.

“You think I’m indifferent? That I don’t care about you? I care about you so much it hurts! That’s why I’m livid you came here. If you die on this stupid mission, a part of me will die too. I…it wouldn’t be a life worth living without you in it. I fuckin’ love you, Y/n. Don’t you get that?” He spoke angrily, a deep contrast to the softness of his words.

Your breath caught in your throat, your mouth gaping open but no words seemed to come out, not until Tom looked down dejectedly. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Tom. It was supposed to be just sex, that’s all.” Your voice betrayed you, wavering and on the verge of spilt tears.

Tom sighed shakily, taking out another cigarette and resting his arms on the railing. “I know…I’m sorry. I should’ve called us off as soon as I started catching feelings.”

You bit your lip, hesitantly taking a step closer to him, mirroring his stance and taking his cigarette from his fingers, bringing it to your own lips. You had stopped smoking a long time ago, but you felt you could have just this one, considering the circumstances. You coughed as the smoke filled your lungs, flinching when Tom gently patted your back, causing him to frown. You sighed, looking at him in pity. “Well…what happens now?”

“I know you hate me, so I understand if…if you wanna call us off.” Tom sulked, taking his cigarette back from you.

You shook your head, looking back over the railing, seeing the moon disappear behind the clouds that drifted by. “I don’t hate you, Tom. I never have.”

He chuckled. “Coulda fooled me.”

“I was an idiot and caught feelings for you too.” You confessed sullenly, hating the way your heart beat against your ribcage and the fire that was lit beneath the skin of your cheeks. You absolutely refused to look back at Tom, whose eyes you felt on you intensely. You couldn’t look into his eyes, you knew you’d break with just one glance, so you kept your gaze fixed on your fiddling hands.

You closed your eyes when Tom placed his hands on top of yours, squeezing them gently to encourage you to look at him. “Y/n…” But you couldn’t. You never opened your eyes, even when you felt his body up against yours, his constant warmth enveloping you and making your body relax despite yourself. His arms wrapping around your waist, his head dipping and his chin resting on your shoulder. “You don’t have to be scared, not with me.” You finally opened your eyes when he lifted your chin, your eyes instantly meeting his and you felt yourself melt against him. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop seeing you, but I couldn’t help it. I care about you too much to leave you alone.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You replied softly, causing Tom to look at you with those big blue puppy dog eyes that never failed to make your heart melt, even when they were filled with fury or irritation directed at you, even when you were often the cause.

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop Tom from surging forward to capture your lips in a kiss. This one felt different than all the others. You didn’t kiss often, only spur of the moment and they were always rage and lust filled. But not this one. This one was soft and slow, Tom’s lips moving against yours languidly, making sure to take his time. You felt your knees threatened to buckle as his tongue moved against yours, and brought his hands up to cup your jaw lovingly. You weren’t the biggest fan of fairy tales, but this felt like a fairytale kiss you always imagined one to be.

It didn’t take long for Tom to push you back into the hotel room, holding onto your waist until the back of your legs touched the bed. He gently sat you down at the edge, removing his shirt before helping you remove your clothing. You watched with heavy lidded eyes as he got on his knees, running his large hands up and down your upper thighs until you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. “Tom…” You whispered as he placed feather light kisses down the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

“Shh.” He spoke before continuing down the path of your legs until he reached your ankles, looking up at you with a crooked smile before pulling your underwear off your body, biting his lip when he saw the state he was able to put your pussy in. “Always so ready and willing for me, huh?” He teased, running the tips of his fingers up and down your slit, causing you to whine quietly. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare try to be quiet. We’re not on that plane anymore. I want you to be loud for me.” He pinched your clit to elicit a cry from you, which made him hum in approval.

“Fuck.” You whimpered as he lapped at your clit, one of his hands holding your leg up and the other using a finger to gently tease your entrance. You moaned and tilted your head back as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing two fingers completely inside of you. You were already so embarrassingly close as you rutted against his face, the way his tongue swirled around you and his fingers curling against just the right spot making your head dizzy. A gasp got caught in your throat as Tom suddenly pulled away and slapped your pussy, the sound echoing loudly around the room.

“You don’t get to come, not yet.” He growled before diving back in, making you keen loudly. The pleasure was so intense you had no idea how you could obey his command. You curled your fingers through his hair tightly, trying to ground yourself and also trying so hard not to lose yourself and come accidentally. “Fuck, your cunt is squeezing my fingers so hard. You’re so close, aren’t you, love?”

“I’m right there.” You sobbed, tears streaming down your face as Tom fucked you hard with his fingers, the borderline pornagraphic sounds coming from your cunt making heat rise to your cheeks. But you were too out of it to care. “Please, Tom, please…”

“I bet that man a couple floors down couldn’t make you feel this way, hm? Was he even able to make you come?” He snarled, his fingers curling against you more aggressively.

“No…” You stuttered with a strangled moan. “It took him—fuck! Took him six thrusts to come.” You chuckled tremulously, unable to stop your moans even if you tried.

“You counted?” He grinned.

“It was hard not to.” You cried out as another pang of intense pleasure coursed through you. You were so fucking close it was painful not being allowed to, Tom completely neglecting your clit even though it felt just as good when he was fingering you. It was too much and not enough. You needed him. You needed his cock. You needed to come. “Please…” You whined loudly, obnoxiously so.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” You nodded frantically. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to. Tell me, who’s the only one allowed to fuck you from now on? Who’s the only one who gets to taste this sweet cunt of yours?”

“You, Tom.” You howled, his words only adding to your pleasure to your surprise. “Oh fuck, I’m yours, only yours, Tom. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“Good girl.” Tom growled as he grabbed you by the throat and pulled you into a passionate kiss, using the leverage from his fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and the grip on your neck to force you back towards the headboard on the bed, only pulling away from you to shed off his trousers and underwear. He was so rock hard the tip of his cock had turned into a lovely shade of pink, the sight making you drool as it came closer to your entrance as Tom crawled on top of you, resuming that passionate kiss. He pushed into you with no warning, splitting you open and causing you to gasp against his mouth, allowing him to bite your bottom lip before pulling away.

The pace he set was different too, just like that previous kiss on the balcony. It was slow, purposeful, and calculated; the thrusts were so powerful and deep that it made the top of your head hit the headboard and your tits bounce violently. His cock stretched your walls so perfectly as it always had, his thickness never the easiest to adjust to, but the slight sting of him made the pleasure all the more intense. You were still so close, but now with no stimulation to your clit, it was easier to hold back.

“You’re so beautiful.” Tom murmured, his eyebrows furrowed tightly in concentration. Even with him being balls deep inside of you, his intense gaze made you feel even more naked than you already were. He never used to look at you this way before, but it was a nice change. He didn’t even try to hold himself back as he picked up the pace, holding you in his arms and rocking you with his sped up thrusts.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” You cried, your moans becoming more breathless and high pitched. “I wanna come so bad.”

“Not yet, love. I want us to come together.” Tom lifted himself up on his knees, grabbing onto the fat of your hips roughly to have the purchase to pound into you relentlessly. He hit the ends of you over and over again, your stomach starting to ache deeply and the knot inside you was tightening more and more, one right move threatening to make it snap. “Fuck.” Tom moaned, his cock twitching inside of you, his body tensing as he got nearer to that edge.

“I want you to come inside me, Tom.” You whimpered, placing your hands on top of his, digging your nails into his skin as your grip tightened.

Tom reached down to rub your clit, the action practically making you scream. You moaned his name over and over again along with taking gasping breaths, your pleasure melting your brain and turning you into a babbling mess. “Yeah, yeah, that’s it, love. Come with me. Please, come with me. Come all over my cock.” You didn’t need any more encouragement for that band inside you to pull taunt until it snapped hard, that wave of ecstasy knocking the breath out of you and making your vision hazy. But not hazy enough to see Tom hit that climax along with you, each of you letting out strained moans as you released together, you soaking his cock and his cum painting your velvety walls. He stilled inside you as you rode out your highs, slumping over and placing delicate kisses all over your neck and collarbone. “Fuck…” He breathed out with a chuckle, pulling out and laying beside you.

“Fuck…” You agreed, trying to catch your breath.

Tom started to reach over to pull you against him, but hesitated when you flinched. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t cuddled after sex, but it was mostly after a particularly rough session as a part of aftercare. You rarely cuddled after a gentle night like this one, especially not after confessing feelings for one another. But your skin already thrummed for attention, for his skin to be on yours even after having sex. It was scary, to open yourself up to heartbreak. But looking at Tom’s painfully hopeful gaze, you suddenly realized you wouldn’t mind getting your heart broken by him.

You reached out to him with a shy smile, allowing him to pull you closer and rest your head on his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He didn’t hide the large grin his mouth broke out into; it was way too endearing. But now, you supposed you’d be seeing those more often.

“We need to discuss our strategy for this meeting.” Tom spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

You chuckled lightly, looking up at him. “Now?”

“At some point.”

“How does tomorrow morning sound?”

Tom smiled, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. “Sounds perfect.”

The next morning, you woke up in Tom’s embrace. You may have cuddled before, but you had never actually slept together like this all throughout the night, on purpose. You were surprised you had woken up first, considering how much you hated early mornings. Tom was always the early bird, but you had the chance to watch him while he was still asleep. You didn’t think it would affect you that much, but goddamn he was adorable when he slept. The permanent curve of his lips made it seem like he was smiling in his sleep and he looked…soft. Very soft. You always envied his perfect smooth skin, but this was ridiculous. No matter how hard you tried in the past, you could never find a single flaw on his body. It irked you, but you couldn’t stop staring at him, even when he started to stir awake.

His lips upturned in a sly smirk, already smug after a second of consciousness. “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to wiggle out of his grip but he was stronger and kept you in place. “We have a busy day, we can’t lie in bed all morning.” You lightly scolded, pride filling you as you felt his grip loosen, allowing you to rise from the bed. “We should stake out the room where the meeting’s gonna take place.” You spoke, cleaning up and getting dressed, while Tom just watched you as he cuddled a pillow. “Like what you see?” You mocked, smiling when he sneered.

After getting ready for the day, you and Tom followed the instructions that were hastily written on the post it note. The hotel was rather large, but you found the room somewhat easily. It was a conference room on the first floor, occupied with a long table with too many chairs to count. It was empty, or at least it seemed to be. Nor you or Tom saw anyone hanging out anywhere near the room. No guards or people preparing for this possible meeting, but you figured it was normal since the meeting wasn’t taking place that particular day.

“Alright,” Tom voiced, “you keep watch while I set up the bugs. Just signal if you see anyone coming, and don’t hesitate to get the fuck out if anything happens.”

You scoffed. “Like I’m gonna leave you to fend for yourself.” Tom’s gaze softened, causing your face to flush with heat. “Cause you definitely wouldn’t survive without me. You don’t have social skills to get yourself out of trouble.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but you could see a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Right.”

You leaned against the wall opposite of the double doors to the conference room, keeping a sharp eye out from anyone who might’ve been walking your way. You hoped Tom could set up the bugs in time and get out before anyone notices. But it seems the luck you had last night in getting the information ran out as the same man you used started to come walking down the hall. You quickly pressed on your small hidden walkie, hearing the buzz in your ear piece. “Henchman, incoming. I’ll distract him.” You whispered into the mic.

“No, get out of there. Do not engage, you hear me?” You ignored Tom’s frantic orders as you plastered a fake smile on your face, greeting James warmly.

“Well, hi there, stranger.” You teased flirtatiously.

James’ eyes flashed with shock and confusion at first, looking around curiously. “Hi? What’re you doing here?” He asked in suspicion, making your heart hammer in your ribcage.

You sighed dramatically. “The husband isn’t too happy with my disappearance last night. Came here to get a break from his constant glares.”

His face flushed red, smiling nervously as if he just remembered what had taken place the night before. “Oh, right. You didn’t tell him, did you?”

You scoffed. “Of course not. I may be a stunner but I’m not dumb either.”

“I never implied you were.”

You giggled. “I did have fun last night though.” You lied, swallowing the bile that threatened to come up your throat.

He nodded. “Me too. Do you…think we can do it again?”

You smiled sadly. “I’m afraid not. Our vacation is almost over and I don’t want my husband getting too suspicious.” Just then, you faintly hear the creaking of a door opening. From behind the henchman, you spotted Tom’s concerned face. But before James in front of you could react to the noise, you pulled him to you. “But…how about a goodbye kiss? For the memories?” You grinned, capturing your lips with his, a surprised noise coming from his mouth. You opened your eyes and gestured for Tom to get out of there. He gave you one last angry reluctant look before obeying you, running off as silently as possible.

James pulled away with a breathless chuckle. “Man, I will miss these pretty lips of yours.” He wiped his thumb over your bottom lip, making you shiver uncomfortably, but he took it as a good thing. “I hope you’ll be thinking of me whenever you’re fucking your boring husband.”

Not likely, creep. “It’ll be hard not to. Well, enjoy the rest of your vacation.” You blew him a kiss before walking away, trying to calm your heart from beating out of your chest. That was the worst. You wanted to wash your mouth out with soap.

Right around the corner, Tom pulled you to him, making you almost let out a yelp of surprise. “Are you alright?” He grabbed your face gently, looking you over with an adorable concern.

You smiled. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Told you I could get out of trouble better than you could.”

Tom’s eyes darkened. “Well, I’m sure it’s easier when you have these.” You gasped as Tom groped your breasts from over your shirt, making you lightly slap him, but he only giggled mischievously.

“So, did you plant all the bugs?”

“Yep, thanks to you. You gave me more time. I owe you one.”

“You sure do. I’ve had my fair share of that douchebag.” You cringed with a groan, the taste of that man’s mouth still sticking to your lips unbearably.

“Me too.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean you too? You didn’t have to sleep with him.”

Tom frowned. “Yes. But I gotta tell ya, I was mad jealous. I felt like I was gonna punch a wall or something. I almost pulled him off you back there to do exactly that: punch the bastard.”

“Then our cover would’ve been blown.”

He shrugged. “Not if I played the husband role, angry that my wife was with another man. Which…isn’t that far off, if I’m being honest.”

You chuckled. “Well, when this mission is over and we’re back home, you have my permission to punch any guy that tries to hit on me.”

Tom stopped in his tracks, just steps away from your shared hotel room. “Wait…” He suddenly blushed bright red. “Does that mean…I’m your boyfriend?”

You couldn’t stop your own blush painting your face, looking down and smiling bashfully. “I mean, yeah. If you want to be?” Tom grinned widely, suddenly picking you up and spinning you around, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your giggles bounced around the echoey hallway as he placed quick pecks all over your face and neck, tickling you until you gently pushed him off. “Happy, are you?” You laughed in amusement.

“You have no idea.” You may have had an idea…

For the rest of the day and every day after leading up to the actual meeting, all you and Tom did was listen in through the planted bugs. It was surprisingly super boring. Anything heard was very few and far between. Nothing of substance was ever said. All the noises that came from the bugs was the shuffling and creaking of people moving around and moving around furniture you assumed.

Your handler informed you and Tom that a team was being sent in, and your job was to make sure to tell that team when the meeting was well under way and to make sure every person of importance was there so they could be arrested. It didn’t sound like a difficult process, but you made sure to prepare for anything.

The day of, you were loading and prepping your weapons while Tom was listening to the live audio feed, his face in deep concentration. He looked cute and you wanted to say so, but you figured it would’ve been inappropriate at a time like this. An uncomfortable tension filled the air that forced your hands to shake, which couldn’t have come at a worse time. You tried taking deep breaths, but it didn’t work. You hid it as best you could. You and Tom already had gotten into an argument about who was going to be the one to direct the rest of the team where the meeting room was. He did not want you down there, at all. But your stubbornness got the better of you and you didn’t let him win. You’d be fine, you were sure of it. You were going to have to head down to the first floor of the hotel soon, staying with the team until Tom radioed that the meeting was almost over.

“Don’t try to be a hero.” Tom told you. “Self preservation before anything else, got it?”

You promised him, if only to ease his nerves. You weren’t going to make any dumb decisions, that wasn’t like you. But you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t get hurt even if you made the smartest choices, the job couldn’t guarantee it, you knew that. But you’d rather get hurt than Tom, that much you were sure of.

The shake of your hands stopped as you loaded your gun’s magazine, just as Tom turned his head to you and nodded. “Be safe.” He spoke, his brows furrowed in worry.

You gave him a reassuring smile. “I will. I’ll see you soon.”

“You better.”

You shook off your nerves and exited the hotel room without another word or glance back at Tom, leaving him and praying you’d see him again, maybe take him on a proper date after all this nonsense was over.

You met up with the team, and they gave you your own bulletproof vest in case things went sideways. You briefed them on where this meeting was and how to get there, pointing to the place on the map of the hotel layout. And after almost an hour of standing around and waiting for shit to hit the fan, your walkie finally sounded off and Tom’s voice spoke over the radio. “They’re starting to trade.”

That was the cue.

You and the team went out, speeding down the halls to the conference room. You could feel your heartbeat in your pulse as the doors were kicked open, threatening yells and weapons being pointed, but the crime boss ordered his henchman’s weapons be pointed back at them. That’s when shit finally hit the fan.

You ducked as bullets went flying across the room, at everyone on either side, the shots echoing loudly and making your eardrums ring. You didn’t let it bother you as you were preoccupied with finding cover, getting your own weapon out and finding a target. You never thought your life would come to this, taking another human being’s life. But it was either you or them. It was at this moment you wondered if you ever should’ve joined this field in the first place. A bullet flying way too close to you snapped you out of those thoughts, forcing you to shoot back. You locked eyes with a familiar face, one you hoped you’d never see again. But of course it was him, James. You watched as the man’s face furrowed in anger, clearly fooled and feeling stupid himself. He should’ve known something was off about you, but too little too late.

The shooting suddenly stopped as the crime boss yelled out in surrender, holding his hands up above the table he was hiding behind, telling his men to stop their own firing. Your team shouted at everyone to put their weapons down and put their hands up, and they all complied fearfully. Your team came out from their cover as the dust seemed to clear, moving to finally apprehend these people. You watched, trying to calm your heartbeat as you felt relief wash over you. You did it, you and Tom. You almost couldn’t believe it.

Just as you realized everything was going to be okay, three shots rang out.

Before you could comprehend what had happened, you were on the floor. Pain surged through your entire body, making it difficult to find the source of the pain. You groaned as a team member ran to you, getting on their knees and quickly putting pressure on what you figured was a bullet wound. You struggled to lift your head to figure out what exactly happened, and you managed to see James on the floor dead, bleeding a puddle of blood beneath him. Karma’s a bitch, you thought. You didn’t think fucking him for information would come back to bite you in the ass, but here you were, bullet not in your ass, but your shoulder. The two other shots thankfully hit your vest, but it still hurt like hell. The bruises you felt instantly forming from those other two shots made you wince, more pressure being added from your comrade making you cry out.

“Shh, don’t move.” The person above you spoke. “Medic!”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You grunted.

From another room, you could hear angry shouts, immediately recognizing the voice as Tom’s. Man, he was going to be pissed at you. But you found it hard to care as you felt blood leaving your body in copious amounts, even with the multiple hands putting pressure on it and miles long amount of gaze being stuffed onto your shoulder. “We need to get her to a hospital now.” The medic spoke urgently. You felt like a loser as your vision started to dim, trying your best to keep yourself awake. But it was out of your control.

Everything after that was a blur. You could hear the sound of sirens, lights flashed above your fluttering eyelids, the smell of cleaning supplies and chemicals making its way into your nostrils, the feeling of a warm hand holding yours. You couldn’t make any sense of it, not until you finally regained full consciousness laying in a hospital bed.

Your eyes squinted as you tried to adjust to the light, even if they were dimmed for your sake. You moaned as you tried to sit up, but you were quickly held in place gently. “No, no, don’t try to move.” The anxious tension in your body alleviated slightly as your eyes landed on Tom’s face, a weak smile coming to your lips. “The doctors said you can’t move yet.”

You inhaled deeply, despite the awful smelling chemicals of the ER. Your mouth was horrifically dry, your lips chapped and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Water.” You choked out, cringing at the hoarseness of your voice. Tom helped you take a few sips of water, which made you feel so much better but also embarrassed that you couldn't even help yourself at that moment. “What happened?”

Tom’s lips upturned in a wry, amused smile. “You were shot.”

You scoffed, chuckling lightly even though it hurt. “I know that. I mean, what happened after I blacked out. I don’t remember, obviously.”

Tom lost his weak smile, grabbing and holding your hand. “Doctor said the bullet hit your brachial plexus. You had to go into surgery to repair it.”

“Well shit, that doesn’t sound good. I’d be more upset if I knew exactly what a brachial plexus is.” You joked, which earned a reluctant chuckle from Tom.

“It’s nerves that allow your arm to move, basically.”

“Oh…” You frowned. “That is bad.”

“...yeah.”

“Well? Did the doctors fix it?”

Tom’s eyes briefly lightened up and he nodded slightly. “They did. They got you to the hospital fast, thankfully. But it looks like you’re gonna be out of commission for several months while you recover, lots of physical therapy and bedrest.”

You groaned. “Ugh, not bedrest.” Tom sighed in exasperation, putting his head in his hands. “Tom?” You tried to reach out for him as you started to hear soft sniffles, coming out muffled from behind his hands, but it sent a spark up pain through your body. “Tom, come on, look at me.”

Tom’s eyes were a bright blue from the tears that were flowing down his face. He looked exhausted, both physically and emotionally. “You lied to me. You told me you were gonna be safe.” He exhaled a shuddering breath.

“I was…until that asshole decided to get revenge on me.” You slightly chuckled, but Tom’s frown only deepened. “I’m sorry. I never wanted you to worry. It’s just…this is part of the job. There was always a chance I’d get hurt, any of us.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted to be down there and not you.”

You shook your head, well, tried to. “No. I’d have rather died than put your life in danger.”

Tom scoffed angrily. “Why? Why do that?”

“Because if you died…a part of me would’ve died too.” Your voice wavered, unwanted tears spilling over and falling down your cheeks. “I love you too, Tom.” You looked away from his intense and unwaveringly loving gaze, too overwhelming to handle. You sniffled. “I’m sorry if that’s selfish of me. But I simply care about your life more than mine…I’ve never felt this way before, about anyone. It’s terrifying.”

You looked back at him as he took your hand with his, running his thumb over your slightly bruised knuckles. “I guess I’m selfish too, because I feel the same way. Which is why I’m fuckin’ pissed at you.” He spoke, but his tone held no semblance of anger and his gaze was just as loving as before.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You can’t be mad when I’m injured.” You teased, causing him to roll his eyes and look down to hide a grin of his own. “Can’t complain when you’re taking care of me either. You have to listen to my every demand.” You giggled.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” He raised a brow, making you blush furiously.

“Uh, I, um, only if you, uh-”

Tom interrupted you with a laugh, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. “Of course. Besides, you couldn’t keep me away even if you tried.”

“That’s good to know.” Then you realized, “Hold on, wait. How’d you even get in here? Isn’t visiting for family only?”

Tom smirked as he held up his left hand, the fake wedding ring still on his finger. “Can’t keep a husband away from his wife, can they?”

uh...kinda overdid it, didn't I? oh well haha

#world on fire #world on fire bbc #tom bennett #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x fem!reader #tom bennett x f!reader #tom bennett smut #modern!tom bennett #special agent!tom bennett

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glowinggator · 11 months ago

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Current WIPS (Lackadaisy)

Sorted by character, updated semi-regularly. (Note: Some request notes are abridged here for space: Written works includes still include full details!)

Last Updated: 8 April 2024, 12:00am PST (oopsie) (♣️=Most recently updated categories)

Rocky Rickaby ♣️

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Headcanons Requested: Yes Request: rocky x gn!reader who frequents little daisy's cafe not knowing there's a speakeasy underneath it, only to find out and stop going there? i wanna see how rocky tries to get their love back.

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Headcanons Requested: Yes Request: romantic relationship headcanons w/ rocky? preferably with a male (he/him) reader? (A/N: HELL yeah brother. I've missed seeing you in my notes <3)

Untitled ♣️ Status: Finished & Queue'd! Type: Drabble; 327 Requested: Yes Request: Rocky x reader who's just as chaotic as him, when they get confortable, but when they aint they're just really shy and polite?

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request: Rocky/Reader, wherein Reader is a little too aware of the narrative.

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request Notes: Rocky/Reader, who is a really strong assassin. Akin to Yor Forger.

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Oneshot Requested: Yes Request Notes: bursts into readers shabby apartment in the middle of the night, clearly very hurt physically after a rum running gig. Rocky says he didn’t know where else to go and reader practically forces him to let her patch him up at stuff. After a while (and a lot of tension) reader finds out Rocky’s homeless and forces him (again) back to stay with her in her apartment. Sprinkle in some purring, affectionate head bumps, and tail twining.

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request Notes: rocky rickaby x reader celebrating their bday?

Temperate (Or, the 2 times you ran, and the 1 time you didn't. Rocky/Reader, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst at parts, ultimately Fluff.) Status: In Progress (30% complete, currently at 1.4k) Type: Oneshot Requested: Yes. Request Notes: Reader first denies his romantic feelings for Rocky, because of this reader is distant from Rocky, but then, either gradually, or due to some accident, reader still confesses to Rocky. Ends in fluff.

Codeswitch (Or, the Lackadaisy cast's reaction to the reader's colder, working alter-ego. Includes all members of main cast, sans Atlas and Asa Sweet) Status: In Progress (10% complete.) Type: Headcanons, may include drabble for some characters Requested: Yes Request Notes: See Above.

Untitled Status: Not Started Type: Headcanons Requested: Yes Request Notes: Rocky/Reader, Reader is very loving and caring towards him and also everyone else and is also very eccentric, theatrical and has a very maniacal laugh.

Double Sided Cloth Status: Not Started Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request Notes: Rocky/Reader, reader is nonverbal or doesn’t talk much, yet it is kinda social? Idk, basically someone whose more reserved yet is still rlly kind. (Bonus points if the reader is an artist like him!)

Nothing Money Can Buy Status: In Progress, 60% Complete, 1.3k. (Taking back burner until next Christmas due to overshoot (oops). Rocky/Reader, Kissing under the mistletoe.) Type: Oneshot Requested: No

Soranna Sorcha Status: In Progress, 40% Complete, 600. (Taking back burner until Rocky's next birthday due to overshoot (oops x2). Rocky/Reader, A kiss for each year of age, birthday fic. Type: Oneshot Requested: No

Mordecai Heller

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Requested: Yes Type: Undetermined Request: Mordecai Heller with a fem or gn s/o who runs their own business making clothes and costume designs for theatres?

Dorian "Zib" Zibowski

Nothing here! ...Send something in?

Sedgewick "Wick" Sable

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request Notes: Working class reader who never got the luxuries he has in her life

Ivy Pepper

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Headcanons Requested: Yes Request Notes: Can I get general relationship headcanons with Ivy Pepper dating a fem reader? (If not gn is ok!)

Calling her by her government name Status: Not Started Yet Type: Headcanons Requested: Yes

Serafine Savoy

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request Notes: can I get some stuff for snuggling with the crazy Creole gun lady? (I am down bad, please assist) (A/N: Real and True :pensive:)

Viktor Vasko

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request Notes: How would Viktor react on working with lackadaisy with his wife(reader)

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Undetermined Requested: Yes Request Notes: **VAGUE SPOILERS FOR COMIC** Viktor reacting to seeing his wife -- the reader -- again.

Untitled Status: Not Started Yet Type: Headcanons Requested: Yes Request Notes: Headcanon on how being in a relationship with Viktor would be.

Mitzi May

Calling her by her government name Status: Not Started Yet Type: Headcanons Requested: Yes

Wes Clyde

None, yet! ...Send something in?

Avery

Untitled Type: Undetermined, likely a drabble or oneshot Status: Not started yet. Requested: Yes Request: Avery (One of the pig farmers from Lackadaisy!!) x a male reader who is very well read? A smarty pants that though a farm would be a quaint calm place to be,,, And it turns out is not. A/N: Your brain is huge, and I LOVE this idea. MUAH

#lackadaisy x reader

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ravs6709 · 6 months ago

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Ravi's KOTLC Fanfic Masterlist

my pinned post too clogged and i cant even edit it on mobile since too long or too many links or something like that. So here is all like ~40 kotlc fanfics of mine!!!

Organizing by dynamics for easy access. Some fics admittedly better than the others, but I've been writing kotlc fanfic for several years, so bound to happen

*Represents some of my favourites!!!

~~~~~~

Oneshots

Sokeefe

Hair- Sokeefe Romantic Oneshot (very fluffy, no warnings). 0.4k words.

*Protection- Sokeefe Romantic Oneshot (angsty, fluff sprinkled in, and then more at the end. Caps tw). 1.4k words.

Keefex

Butterfly Kisses- Keefex Romantic Oneshot (very fluffy, no warnings). 0.4k words.

Marry Me (There's Free Desserts)- Romantic Keefex Oneshot (fluff, human au, food, one swear). 2.5k words.

Don't Need Your Voice To Understand You- Queerplatonic Keefex Oneshot (Canon divergence, heart-warming, non-verbal communication). 0.9k words.

Sokeefitz

Together- Sokeefitz Romantic Oneshot (light angst, poly-phobic moments + alden bashing oops, but fluff at the end). 1.1k words.

The Days That Come And Go (They'll Be Beautiful)- Romantic Sokeefitz Oneshot (post-canon, fluff and comfort. No warnings. 0.5k words.

Keefe/Tam/Dex

Fire And Foil- Kamex (Keefe/Tam/Dex) Romantic Oneshot (very fluffy, censored swearing. Human au). 1.1k words

Cake Eater- Romantic Kamex Oneshot (very fluffy, censored swearing, human au). 0.7k words. (same au as prev, but not connected)

Kam

Hoodies- Kam Romantic Oneshot (very fluffy, no warnings). 0.8k words.

*Our Very Own Melody- Kam Romantic Oneshot (fluff with a side of angst, soulmates+human au. Censored swearing). 5.1k words.

*All This Love (I'll Show You How It Feels)- Ambiguous Kam Oneshot (human au, fake dating, shenanigans). 2.8k words.

Tam & Linh

Our Hands Linked, Side By Side- Linh and Tam Platonic Oneshot (mostly hurt/comfort, fluffy ending, not really any warnings but Quan is rude). 1.4k words.

*A Desperate Attempt At Understanding- Tam & Linh Platonic Oneshot (sibling angst, arguing, during stellarlune). 1.1k words.

Sophiana

This Great Distance- Sophiana Romantic Songfic (based off Coney Island by Taylor Swift) (post breakup, angst, no warnings though). 1.0k words.

Sweet Treats- Sophiana Romantic Oneshot (mild hurt/comfort and fluff. No warnings). 0.9k words.

Hidden Meanings- Sophiana Romantic Oneshot (pure fluff, no warnings) 1.6k words.

Labels (Or The Lack Of Them)- Platonic Sophiana Oneshot (pure fluff, no warnings. Human au) 1.2k words

Lights Glowing Bright- Romantic Sophiana Oneshot (pure fluff, no warnings). 0.7k words.

Sophitz

The Stars In The Sky (And In Your Eyes)- Sophitz Romantic Oneshot (pure fluff, no warnings). 0.7k words.

Confessions- Romantic Sophitz Oneshot (pure fluff, no warnings). 1.0k words.

Fedex

Our Very Own Story- Queerplatonic Fedex Oneshot (fluff, soulmates+human au, one swear). 7.4k words

*An X-Ray Ain't Needed To See Within- Dex Study (ish), Romantic Fedex Oneshot (canon rewrite but with new element, angst, depictions of canon torture and stabbing, copious descriptions of heart). 7.9k words.

Don't Worry Yourself Sick - Fedex Romantic Oneshot (sickfic, no warnings). 0.8k words.

Other (stuff that only have 1 fic)

No Murder Allowed- Marellinh Romantic Oneshot (very fluffy, jokes about murder). 0.3k words.

Imp-Sitting At Rimeshire- Dexiana Romantic Oneshot (very fluffy, no warnings). 0.9k words.

Inventions- Platonic Dexphie Oneshot (mild angst, but then fluff, no warnings) 1.0k words.

Affection- Platonic Keefitz Oneshot (mostly fluff, slight angst and hurt/comfort, no warnings?) 1.2k words.

Within The Background- Platonic Marellinhiana Oneshot (some fluff, deals with Biana's scars so slight injury tw). 1.0k words.

*Euneirophrenia- Romantic Solinh Oneshot (fluff and hurt/comfort, dreamsharing au). 6.2k words.

Way Too Weird (Even For Me)- Gen Oneshot (crack, eating inedible stuff). 0.6k words.

I've Come A Long Way- Sophie & The Foster Family (family feels, no warnings). 1.1k words.

As Pretty As The Petals- Romantic Four Horsegirls Oneshot (fluff, no warnings?). 2.1k words.

Just One More Chance- Romantic Bianuca Oneshot (post breakup, getting back together, mentions of internalized homophobia). 1.5k words.

Multichapter/Series

*Won't You Shine With Me (Oh Distant Star Of Mine)- Romantic Hekster, Kam, Marelliana and Fedex Fanfic (6 chapters, Revue Starlight au, theatre, fluff and angst with a happy ending)

*The Prankster Team- Keefex Romantic Fanfic (Wattpad, and also on ao3) (mostly fluff, but deals with some homophobia (not in detail), abuse (but not in detail) also censored swearing)

*These Feelings Inside (How Deep Do They Go)- Sokeefitz Romantic Fanfic (mermaid+flowershop au, based off Siren's Lament. Fluff and angst. Mentions of death)

*Open Up My Heart (And Let My Feelings Fly Free)- Kam (but relationship type unspecified) Fanfic Oneshot Collection (omniscient reader's viewpoint au, angst with happy ending, check fic for warnings)

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #writing masterpost #ravi writes a thing #<- very vaguely #kotlc fanfiction

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danpuff-ao3 · 2 years ago

Note

Hi hello, Liv, I have been summoned 😈 I'm sure your Anon can help but I'd be remiss not to help such a lost, lovely Liv out 😇 (Also c'mon I love a good excuse to talk about my OTP!) (I can't be tamed, or silenced, so sorry.)

Introducing...

Liv a Lil (and Read Some Snarry!)

Warning: at some point I realized this list was getting unwieldy...oops. And by that point I figured: why not go to 30?? That's my age after all and a good number to cap it off at!

Anyway, RIP Liv's TBR but also RIP me and the like 20 fics I had to cut, for the sake of pretending to be a reasonable, rational human. (It's all a front, but y'all can keep a secret, right??)

An Awkward Customer

by AnyaElizabeth. Rated E. 10k. Postwar. Shopkeeper Snape. UST. Wooing & romance.

Snape can't figure out why Potter is hanging around his shop.

This is a good time. There's tension between them, but not too much. A nod to their animosity, without it being overbearing. Bits of drama and angst, but well balanced by the unfolding romance and sprinkles of humor.

Anybody Else

by Dementordelta. Rated E. 27k. Postwar. Parseltongue.

Severus Snape has a project for Harry Potter, Harry has other ideas.

Dementordelta is always a win. Boys work together/research together. Cool magic stuff. Unusual sexual situation...angsty cuz of past trauma, but also...really really friggin' hot?? Anyway this one is great and probably my favorite Dementordelta work?? Maybe. It's hard to choose but it might be!

The Beating of This Fragile Heart

by Writcraft (@writcraft.) Rated E. 33k. Insecurity. Serious injury. Fluff and angst. Praise kink. Romance.

After the war, the last thing Severus Snape needs is the memory of a fleeting wartime kiss and a very persistent Harry Potter thwarting his plans to live a peaceful and solitary life. It’s only when Harry’s life is endangered that Severus is finally forced to confront his feelings head on.

Okay so you might have read it, cuz Writcraft. But if not: you should! And if you have: read it again! It's one of my all-time favorites! Which should say something. Snarry has been my OTP for nearly 20 years, after all!

Close Encounters

by bleedcolor (@bleedcolor) & Likelightinglass (@likelightinglass.) Rated E. 35k. Hurt/comfort. Matchmaking. Anonymous sex. Pining. Dom/sub. Romance. Idiots in love.

Years after the war, Harry Potter and Severus Snape meet and fall in lust, then love.

Too bad they don’t know who they’ve fallen for.

....so....you wanted spice? 👀 I'll give you spice. 🔥 This is great. Super awkward, heartwarming, sweet, sad, and hot as all heck! Everything one could want or need in one story!

Contempt

by danpuff (oh look, that me!) Rated E. 20k. Minor Hinny. Cheating. Angst. Shame. Unhealthy relationship. Mental health issues.

Harry hates Snape, and he always will. (He will, won’t he?)

Shameless self rec, cuz why not?? I wrote the Snarry of my dreams, dang it! Anyway, it's pretty big on the love/hate. Big complicated mess. Big flawed characters. Mild/minor student/teacher, but all actual sexual contact happens after graduation, and even the student/teacher feels happen 8th year. Best thing I've ever written, hands down.

The Darkest Corner (of My Heart)

by Necromanticnoir (@necromanticnoir.) Rated E. 30k. Dark. Dubcon. Fetish. Weird? Mpreg (brief mention.) OOC (but explained.)

Snape has gone feral, but what caused it, and how will Harry cope now that his once impotent and repressed partner is suddenly all for giving in to his more… primal urges?

Yeah..."feral" and "primal" explain a lot here. It's weird. It's questionable. Definitely not okay. But also...really hot?? Super interesting. And complicated. And full of love (you know, beneath the mess of it all.)

Going Concern

by crystalusagi. Rated E. 26k. Postwar. Temporary Hinny. Emotional infidelity. Divorce.

Tired of the work they are doing, Harry, Ron, and Hermione take over a small business together, running a magical antiques shop. When his marriage begins to fall apart, Harry turns to an unlikely confidant.

The Golden Trio runs an antique shop!!!! Like that's all you need. Just kidding, but I really dig the idea. Anyway. Severus gets dragged into things, of course, and he's his snarky unpleasant self, but LOVE happens and it's great. They move on with life, grow up, figure themselves out, and each other. Very feel good, enjoyable read.

Hypothermia

by [Anonymous]. Rated M. 19k. Unhealthy/abusive relationships (not Snarry.) Alcoholism. Underage. No sex. Angst. Grimmauld Place.

Prompt #4: Sirius isn’t quite right when Harry goes to live with him. No one believes Harry, since Sirius acts fine when other people are around. No one, except for Snape.

Not only some good Snarry dynamic, but really questionable and problematic Harry/Sirius dynamic. Really delves into mental health issues, and Harry being much too young and having too much put on his shoulders, and so few people actually stepping in and looking out for him.

In Between Days

by atrata (@atratum.) Rated E. 68k. Underage (15-16.) Mental health issues. Stockholm Syndrome. Angst. Extremely dubious consent. Morally ambiguous Snape.

Snape kidnaps/rescues a clinically depressed Harry from the Dursleys, but nothing is quite what it seems.

This is a classic and you have to read it. I'm sorry, it's the rules. Just kidding, but it really is very good. And dark. And sexy. And incredible. And messed up. It's a long oneshot but 100% worth it I promise. MFL if you have to, please and thanks!

In Time, Once Again

by avioleta (@avioleta.) Rated E. 17k. Time travel. Student/teacher.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry uses a Time Turner in an attempt to rewrite history. However, something goes wrong, and he’s thrown back fourteen years into the past.

I love avioleta and all of their works, but this one is still my favorite. Which is funny because I'm generally not a time-travel person. But you see...it still has that student/teacher tag, so...👀 And it's so well done! I just love it.

Learning to Speak

by ThreeSidedOrchid. Rated G. 10k. Postwar. 8th year. Anonymous letter writing. Mostly pre-slash. Hogwarts.

"Most men spend their lives trying to either brush off the ashes of their youth, or rekindle them. The truth is that the only way to move forward is to accept them. "

One of those I've reread often over the years. A connection during anonymity. Then, trouble ensues when identities are revealed. Very lovely, and one I'll always come back to!

The Lighthouse Keeper

by drawlight (@ripeteeth.) Rated E. 10k. Postwar. Hurt/comfort. Past relationship. Melancholy. Love confessions. Regret.

Harry visits one Severus Snape every year on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. This year, he brings a bottle of scotch (single-malt, 100-proof, excellently-distilled).

Here we have another writing crush 🙈 Everything Teeth writes is just plain stunning. Excellent prose and always touched by traces of their interests and knowledge. I don't know how better to explain it, but they are such an interesting, intelligent person with so much character, smarts, sharpness, skill, etc. Anyway! This story in particular. All that aching and loneliness and regret and longing and love. It's just...really bittersweet and beautiful. This is such a special story, I love it so much.

made to be broken

by theshopislocal. Rated E. 10k. Postwar. PTSD. Established relationship. Mild dubcon. Sexual dysfunction. Porn with feelings.

For all Severus is softer, warmer with Harry than he is otherwise, he’s still a prickly bugger and notably maladjusted, with strange, almost inexplicable habits that Harry is only now beginning to truly understand.

In hindsight, Harry wonders how he hadn’t seen it before.

I'm not always drawn to established relationship, but this is GREAT. Boys have issues...or, well, especially Severus has issues. And seeing so much love and care on Harry's end, his dedication to supporting his lover, and being a generous lover himself. Very gorgeous. Very romantic. Also hecka hot.

A Matter of Time

by danpuff. Rated E. 3k. Underage (16.) Student/teacher. Tragedy. Angst. Reverse chronology. Alternating POV. Open ending.

Severus is outed as a spy and grievously injured. Harry doesn’t react well, leading those closest to him to wonder: Just why is Harry so devastated about Severus’ condition?

Another shameless self rec! Big juicy angst and secret, forbidden relationship!

Not Quite Kissed

by atrata. Rated M. 1k. ANGST. Azkaban. Did I also mention angst?

Severus remembers. Then he forgets.

Are you ready to have your life wrecked in under 2,000 words? Good!

On the Deficiencies of Translation Spells

by LilaDiurne (@liladiurne.) Rated E. 41k. Postwar. Beaubatons. Professor Harry. Angst & romance.

Divorced, single, and free, Harry lives a completely unapologetic life in Paris. Between casual hook-ups and an easy, comfortable job, he likes to think he is as close to happiness as he'll ever be. And when he gets offered a teaching job at the prestigious Académie Beauxbâtons, he thinks he may have found exactly what was missing. But Harry is thoroughly unprepared for what he finds there - a familiar face that's been haunting his dreams for six years.

Lila's writing is always so gorgeous, and she especially writes pining so well! Harry's an adult, mature, and confident, but also a bit lost and confused, still figuring life out, and so very human.

One for Sorrow, Two for Joy

by elmyraemiilie. Rated E. 21k. Postwar. Mystery. Romance. Illnesses. Healer Harry.

A tale of chance and change in two parts; written for two prinicpals, several secondaries, a choir of children and a bird.

Snape has a problem. And of course it's up to Harry to solve it! I love the idea of Harry as a healer. And the "mystery illness" is so well done and so super cool and interesting. Cool magic stuff!

Orange Blossoms

by danpuff. Rated T. 3k. Student/teacher. Fluff & angst. Language of flowers.

These are foolish times to have hope, and more foolish still to be in love.

Last self rec I swear! And yeah: student/teacher without the spicy smut?? That surprised me, too. (Yes, me, the writer, what about it??)

Post Mortem

by inarticulateimbecile (@inarticulateimbecile.) Rated E. 17k. 8th year. Student/teacher. Severus POV. Reluctantly falling in love.

"You're disgusting," Potter quietly bit out.

It was an insult, so why did that mouth-watering heat race downward like he'd been called brilliant and wonderful and all things nice?

"And what does that make of you, I wonder?"

A tale of hero worship and failing to pretend.

My friend here really gets me and all I love about Snarry. This is postwar, set during Harry's eighth year. It's not just a Snarry story, but a Severus story; really delving into his character, and seeing bits of the past and how it's impacted him, on top of the development of his relationship with Harry. And you can see how he struggles with it because it's Harry, but also...Well. This is a man prone to inner turmoil of all sorts, so it's unfair to overlook how complicated it all is and how it's more than just that. (Though really, isn't it being Harry plenty enough reason to have a crisis??)

Quid Pro Quo

by AuctaSinistra. Rated E. 28k. Postwar. Romance. Professor Snape. Auror Harry.

Here’s a novel idea *g*: Harry’s cursed, and he comes to Snape to ask for a cure.

Not much to say, the summary really says it all! Just a nice convenient excuse to get our boys in close proximity to annoy and seduce each other. Good times to be had by all.

The Red Cloak

by ThreeSidedOrchid. Rated E. 2k. Wartime. Intel. Secret meetings.

"He allows himself to get lost in the smooth skin, its illusion of perfection, and understands -- with the brevity of comprehension that accompanies all universal truths -- how an apple could have consumed Eve with desire."

Hot hot hot hot hot hot hot.

The Secret of Seeing Rightly

by Quill_Lumos. Rated E. 25k. Postwar. Injury/illness. Hurt/comfort. Bonding. Spinner's End.

Severus Snape can cope alone no-longer, he needs help. At the end of his energies he forces a bond on the one person who might be able to help him – Harry Potter.

Starts with plenty of animosity. Bitter, petty, unwell Severus; reluctant, angry Harry. But our Harry is too sweet for his own good! Forced proximity leads to getting to know each other leads to LOVE. Also, pretty sure this is the fic that gave me feelings about Severus and The Little Prince...

Snape: Home Fries Nazi

by pir8fancier. Rated E. 27k. Postwar. Arizona. Yeah, Arizona. Angst. Drama.

When Harry defeats Voldemort, all those marked by Voldemort lose their magic. Snape decamps to the United States, where he becomes a fry cook in a diner. Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry comes to him for advice. AU, obviously, as Snape was still alive when I wrote this story.

A classic. A+ work. Snape is bald and living in the U.S.A. Despite how weird it sounds it's actually super touching and romantic, with great characterizations and a captivating relationship development. Very bittersweet.

Sooner or Later

by PinaNaponi (@vulnerasanenturmyprince.) Rated E. 27k. Postwar. Mental health issues. EWE. Idiots in love. Mutual pining. Angst.

Ten years after the war two men without purpose confront themselves with their most uncomfortable thought. And because it always happens when you least expect it, they also fall in love.

Nina is my dearest love. Genuinely one of the kindness, most supportive, most compassionate people I've ever met. She also has mega talent. Various skills, various interests. Anyway. This is one of my favorite of her works, and all the better because I know how meaningful this work is to her personally. Just two men being giant messes and coming together and falling apart and coming together again. Growing up, finding their way. You see how their history, with the war, but also their history prior to the war, how it's all impacted them both. And how it impacts their relationship. Beautiful, heartwrenching and heartwarming romance.

Sudden Light

by LilaDiurne. Rated E. 48k. Memory charms. PTSD. Strangers to lovers. Angst. Open ending.

Seven years after the war, in the dead of winter, Severus Snape meets a beautiful stranger on a train. Inevitably, he falls in love.

Inspired by D.G. Rossetti and Paul Celan and based on the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

This was the first of Lila's fics I read, and I followed it while it was still in progress. And I hardly ever read WIPs!! But this one was worth it and I remember how thrilled I was for every chapter update. And how my heart ached between times. And right to the end. Please bring the tissues and prepare to hurt a bit (but only in the most beautiful of ways.)

Suspiria

by drawlight. Rated E. 5k. POV second person. Severus POV. Angst. Self-hatred. Alcoholism. Light BDSM. Under-negotiated kink. Unhealthy relationship.

You like to cut yourself on his bones, and he likes to let you.

It hurts. But also: it's hot. Also, beautiful, like everything Teeth writes.

Thee and Thy Treasures

by VioletSmith. Rated E. 11k. Postwar. BDSM. Bondage. Knife-play. Professor Harry.

There's something about revisiting the places of your childhood that is perspective-altering.

Harry learns about Snape's kinks and...Well...he's a Gryffindor. Cue the hotness.

This Time of Ours

by emynn. Rated E. 35k. Postwar. Time travel. Afterlife (ish.)

Severus Snape wasn’t supposed to die. Neither was Harry Potter.

Idk what to say other than I love this one. Emynn has so many good works and this one really stands out. I love Harry and Severus meeting again in the afterlife, more or less picking up where they left off, and growing from there!

Where He Belongs

by babygray (@babygray.) Rated T. 10k. Time travel. Universe hopping. Hogwarts Sad ending.

While drinking alone one night, Severus Snape finds himself entertaining a visitor who, technically, does not exist.

Love this author so much, and this is one of my favorites. Touches on the multi-verse theory, and done in a way where Harry finds himself in a world where he never existed. (His parents had a daughter instead!) Cool/weird magic stuff. Love the characterizations and the relationship development.

The White Road

by perverse_idyll (@perverse-idyll.) Rated E. 47k. Lily POV. Afterlife. Voyeurism. Redemption. Romance.

One day, comfortably set up in the afterlife, Lily Evans Potter switches on the telly and gets hooked on the Harry Potter show.

This is the first PI fic I ever read, and I'm pretty sure I found it around the time it came out. PI has been my writing idol ever since! Prose? Stunning, every time. Characterizations? Always on point. Dynamic? Forever intense and raw and deep and perfect. I reread this fic every single year, and have since it came out. Also now that I've chatted with PI a bit I know she's a lovely human, which makes being a fan all the better!

are you taking snarry recs? 👀

YES I AM!!! Now I’m following @danpuff-ao3 and thanks to @writcraft’s spectacular writing I’m going down that rabbit hole again 💀🤘🏼I’ve read Snarry before and am familiar with some authors like mia_ugly and suitesamba, but I’d love to explore this ship further. Pls feel free to send new recs my way!

#danpuff recs #snarry #for liv #recs for sitp-recs

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neversatisfiedwithlife · 3 years ago

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Angst is like seasoning, just put that bitch in there, don't measure it out. Let it fucking sucker punch me in the face

#im a deranged hoe for angst tbh!#i try and write fluff and oops it's 90% angst #oh you want to talk about your angsty fic idea? here let me sprinkle some more angst in it for you #<- literally me and my friend rn lol #don't mind me

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cotccotc · 4 years ago

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genre/s: felix x barista!reader (gender neutral), fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers au, bakery / barista au (feat. baker / bff!minho, (strict) manager!chan, barista!jeongin, and baker!seungmin)

wc: 6.9k 😎

warnings: many mentions of food (specifically sweets such as cupcakes, brownies, cookies, etc.), some swearing, arguing, probably very poor editing oops <3

a/n: this is part of the @districtninewriters “dear skz, with love” event :D THIS IS ALSO THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN AHHH i’m really really proud of it !!! i hope u love it besties !!!!!!!!

it was a frostbitten february evening when you met the boy at the bakery.

you were seated upon the counter, back turned to the deep brown door through which you’d first entered months ago, eager to apply for a barista position. minho sat across from you on the cashier stool. he was always better with the baked goods. you were a great team. the two of you were bored; a familiar feeling that accompanied weeknights at the bakery-cafe. people tended to arrive either in the morning time or late in the afternoon, and very seldom later. plus, your manager trusted the two of you enough to lock up on your own. and so, the two of you would be left to your own devices for a few measly hours a night per week.

“i bet you couldn’t make a batch of sugar biscuits without instructions,” he teased with a snarky grin. he was right. that was more his thing than yours.

so, you retaliated. “i bet you can’t do the same with a mocha frappe. or even simpler: an iced americano.”

“please!”

“oh yeah? step right up, biscuit boy,” you retorted with a giggle, gesturing to the coffee maker that sat beside him. there were multiple in the shop, and truth be told, he had no idea which was used for what types of beverages.

confidently, he grabbed a cup from the stack on the table behind him, striding over to one of the machines. he then took a look at all the knobs and buttons, clearing his throat. you chuckled. with his finger ghosting over one of the buttons, he turned back toward you to check for your reaction. “not even close,” you remarked. he clicked his tongue, turning back toward the coffee maker. “just a hint,” you added, “the first step isn’t coffee.”

he simply looked up, bewildered. he turned back toward you, dropping his hands to his sides and parting his lips into a circular expression of disbelief.

suddenly, the sparkling tone of the door chime behind you caught both of your attention. peculiar. nobody was usually around at that hour. as minho put his cup back on the table, you hopped off the counter, turning toward the front of the store.

in walked one of the most strikingly handsome boys you think you’ve ever seen. if not the most handsome. an angular face; fair, slightly pink-tinted skin decorated with the most endearing assortment of freckles. they were almost reminiscent of the chocolate sprinkles minho used to top off the cupcakes situated inside the glass counter case. his hair was a vanilla blond and long enough to delicately cascade over the side edges of his face. cherry red lips that parted upon his arrival, chocolatey brown eyes staring right back at yours. he was astonishing.

“how can we help you?” minho asked him, stepping forward. he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes seemed to be bugging out of your head. he had to stifle a chuckle or two.

the boy’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment. or maybe you dreamed it that way. regardless, he walked up to the counter, inquisitively placing his hands behind his back and bent over to glance at the contents of the case. “hi! uh…” he seemed sweet, though his voice was much deeper than you’d expected. it was unique. he was unique. and in quite a rush, as well. “...shit,” he cursed under his breath. he seemed to have startled himself with his expression. he looked back up at you, then at minho, a tight-lipped smile and strawberry-pink blush appearing on his face. “sorry,” he said.

minho finally let out a chuckle. “no worries. what’re you looking for?” he was always so good with the customers. smooth yet considerate, witty, yet firm. you always aspired to be a little more like minho when it came to customer service.

“do you have any of the salted caramel cupcakes left? they seem to be gone.”

“ah, we seem to have run out of those. could i interest you in a peanut butter cupcake instead?”

the boy shook his head. “no… she likes caramel.”

she. there was a she.

“may i ask what the occasion is?” minho asked.

“it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’ll be home from work soon... hopefully. i would’ve made my own gift to her but i didn’t have the time…”

“enough said,” your coworker assured him. “does she like chocolate? we have a few salted caramel brownies in the back.”

he almost gasped. “that’s perfect!” he paused. “um… how much is that? i-is it more than the cupcake, or…?”

minho glanced through the glass at the tag beside the brownie tray. “nope. less, actually.”

the boy let out a short sigh of relief. “great. thanks so much.”

“ah, it’s nothing. one sec,” minho said before walking into the kitchen to grab the brownie from the fridge. an awkward silence ensued between you and the boy.

“a name for the order?” you blurted. dumbass, you thought to yourself.

“i’m… the only one in the store…” he replied.

heat rose to your cheeks. “i… um… it’s protocol-”

“felix.” he cut you off before you could embarrass yourself further. he could tell you were nervous.

a unique name as well. of course.

“coming right up, felix,” you murmured, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. both of you chuckled.

minho came back out to the counter holding a small blue box with the cafe logo on top. “you’re all set! that’ll be…” he pressed few buttons into the cash register before continuing. “ten thousand won.”

“perfect.” felix grabbed his wallet out of his coat pocket. he pulled out a few bills from the black leather case, handing them to minho with a small smile. he was excited to surprise his mother, and happy that it wouldn’t cost as much as he’d thought it would. and you found it adorable.

minho took the money, ringing felix up and inserting the bills into the register. he handed felix the box, which made the boy’s face light up even more. it was hard for you to suppress a similar countenance. “i hope she likes it. have a good night!” minho said, closing the register. he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter as felix waved to the both of you and began walking back toward the door.

“thanks so much. you too,” he said, giving minho a small bow.

with his hand on the door, he glanced back at you once more. you smiled. he returned the expression. and just like that, with a brief gust of cold air sweeping through the shop, the boy was gone.

“you, uh… you know we only take names when there’s a line, right?” minho teased as the door shut, the chime letting out what seemed to be a pitied laugh.

you held your hands up to your forehead. “ugh, i know! i’m such an idiot,” you replied, letting your nerves go with a chuckle. he patted you on the shoulder, laughing with you.

in between laughs, he remarked, “he really made you that nervous, huh?”

“you could tell?! oh, great… wonderful!”

the two of you carried on for a moment, making light of the otherwise mortifying exchange. but finally, minho glanced at the clock and asked, “would you mind locking up tonight? i’ve got a date.”

“ooh!” you cooed, taunting him. “a date... who’s the not-so-lucky lady?”

“what joke book did you get that one from, hm? i had no idea you even knew how to read!” you gave him a playful punch in the arm for his sarcastic dig, causing him to giggle. yet, he answered your question, saying, “it’s a girl i met on the train home from school the other night. chaeyoung.” he looked off to the side, seemingly entranced. “she’s really witty and smart… and gorgeous. like... gorgeous.”

“ah, yes… so gorgeous that it causes men to leave their posts… and friends…”

“if i bring you back some takeout, will you quit being an ass?”

you pondered the question for a moment. and, while you’d be bored as hell in his absence, closing up the shop wasn’t much of a hassle on weeknights… and, well, you could always go for a free meal. “...pleasure doing business with you, lee minho.”

“thank you. as with you,” he commented in return. he took off the periwinkle blue, involuntarily worn apron which you’ve both been made to wear, revealing what you hadn’t even noticed was a dressy outfit. well, dressier than usual. he’d opted for a pale blue button-up shirt, tucked into black skinny jeans, all tied together by a chic black belt and a pair of black loafers. not to mention the small silver hoop earrings and matching necklace. you had to admit, he did look dapper.

he quickly strode to the back of the kitchen at which there resided a small storage room where you and the other employees usually dropped off your belongings. he grabbed his backpack and put on his long black coat, quickly making his way back up to the counter and walking around to the front of the store. “catch you tomorrow! thanks again.”

“takeout! don’t forget!”

“i couldn’t even if i tried,” he retorted, opening the door. the two of you waved to each other before he took his leave.

moments later, the door opened once again. you figured minho must’ve forgotten something. looking up, you began to ask, “what’d you forget this ti-”

it wasn’t minho.

it was felix.

he paused in his footing, little blue box still in hand. you jumped just a little. he noticed. “s-sorry… i just, um…” he looked off to the side. “i guess this is a bit of a long shot... considering the two of you seem to be more than enough staff… but…” he paused again, taking a moment to straighten his posture and scratch the back of his head. “is there any chance you might be hiring… any time soon?”

the answer was no. undoubtedly. he was right in thinking that you, minho, and the other employees were perfectly capable of handling the cafe. though some mornings and weekends were a bit tight, the team made it work. if this was anybody else, you could’ve easily said no.

yet, he persisted. “i can bake! i like to think i’ve been getting better at it… and i can clean as well.”

you couldn’t turn him down. you simply couldn’t. not with those kind eyes locking themselves with yours, the enthusiasm in his deep voice, or the hastening beat of your heart. “i’ll talk to my manager!” you affirmed. you smiled, causing a similar reaction out of him. an idea popped into your mind. if only for a moment, you thought it was the best you’d ever had. your eyes averted themselves to the pale yellow note pad and ballpoint pen on the counter, used to take orders from seated customers. “here,” you said, reaching for the pen and paper and handing it to felix. “if you’ll give me your number, i can text you with any updates.”

he walked back up to the counter for the second time that night, taking his number down on the pad. as you watched him intently, eyes fixated on his concentrated face, you silently praised yourself for being so brave. especially after the whole name debacle. your heart was at its wits’ end. “there,” he said, placing the pen down on the counter and sliding the notepad back to you. “i really appreciate it.” he sounded so genuine. he flashed you another smile. he had such a grand, bright, toothy smile. it would stay in your memory for days, weeks, even months to come. you can still recall it now.

“it’s no problem,” you responded. “...i really hope your mom likes the brownie.”

“thanks. i’m sure she will.” he turned to walk toward the door. you almost turned away as well, excited to examine the style with which he’d written on the pad, until he spun back around once more. “oh! one more thing… can i get your name as well?”

the question came as a bit of a surprise. you nodded to him, letting out a short giggle. “y/n.”

he grinned again. it was smaller that time; a bit more subdued. effortfully so. “ah. well…” he began walking backward, eyes connected with yours as he headed toward the door. “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, felix.”

and thus, your pursuit for a job offering began.

your manager, chan, was reluctant to accept your proposal for him to give felix an interview. however, you made note of how eager he’d seemed that night and the skills he’d mentioned having. you also mentioned how he’d been so enthused to find out the price of his order. and so, after a couple days’ worth of mulling it over, chan finally gave in.

you weren’t supposed to be at the cafe when felix was being interviewed. however, your saturday afternoon shift had just ended, and the place was essentially empty. well… apart from you, chan, felix, and then jeongin, who wandered in from the storage room to find you eavesdropping from behind the wall separating the kitchen and the dining area.

“y/n?” he asked. “what are you-”

you inaudibly shushed him, motioning for him to come closer and hide with you. he did so.

“chan’s interviewing someone,” you whispered to the boy.

“ah…” he responded, his tone hushed. “so why are we hiding?”

“because we’re not supposed to be listening.”

“so why are we doing it?”

“because i want to know how it’s going.”

“so why can’t you just-”

you shushed him again. he obliged, covering his mouth with his hand.

from the other side of the wall, chan asked, “so felix, do you have a resume?”

“uh…” felix stammered. you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“let me put it this way,” chan offered instead. “do you have any prior working experience? at another cafe, another store, a completely different place...?”

“oh! yes. i’ve bagged groceries at the supermarket on third street for the last few months. that’s where my mom works. but i’d much rather work here, if i’m honest...”

“ah. okay.” chan nodded, jotting down some notes in his notebook. “so y/n told me you could clean...”

before chan could finish, felix proudly exclaimed, “i can! i do a lot of cleaning at home.”

“perfect.”

the interview went on for a few more minutes. jeongin let out a few silent chuckles every once in a while, mocking your state of concentration. but who could blame you? you just wanted to make sure felix got the position. he seemed to need it.

you totally weren’t in it for his smile… the freckles… the adorable creases that formed at the edges of his eyes when he grinned with that sweet, genuine, toothy grin of his… no, not at all…

nevertheless, he got the job.

“i love this apron,” felix had said to you on his first day. he was quite fond of your uniform. everyone else in the shop hated them; what, with the pale blue color, white pinstripe pattern, and the ‘one-size-fits-all’ design. yet, in every sense of the phrase, it fit felix perfectly.

“i’m glad someone does,” you replied. he laughed.

“when i got the cleaning job, i wasn’t sure i’d get to wear one. but i’m happy i do.” he smiled at you, his pearlescent teeth on full display and face aglow with joy.

after about a week of training, felix became a natural at his job. though it wasn’t much, he took great pride in his work and enjoyed taking any opportunity he saw to do a little extra sweeping, some more dish washing, and even some dusting here and there.

he also fit right into the employee dynamic. every once in a while, you’d find him playing hand games with jeongin. or, sometimes, minho would discuss baking with him, as he often noted his affinity for it.

“have you ever tried using oats in your chocolate chip cookies?” felix asked. it was monday night. and, as per usual, the shop was devoid of customers.

minho looked puzzled. “oats?”

“yeah. it adds a little nuttiness. it’s really, really good.”

“huh… i’ll have to try it out sometime. i like to add a bit of coffee grounds to the flour when i make mine.” then, he leaned in to whisper, “don’t tell chan, though.” felix let out a nervous giggle.

“don’t worry,” you said to him. “minho’s only kidding. i’d never let him touch my coffee grounds.” this made all three of you laugh.

after the laughter died down, felix looked at the clock. it was four in the afternoon. “well, my shift is over,” he said. you were disappointed. hanging out with felix had become a bit of a highlight for you. he always carried himself so kindly. he had a bubbly soul, and a pure twinkle took residence in his eye whenever he smiled. you couldn’t help but feel light and airy while around him.

“hey, i’ve been meaning to ask,” minho started to felix. “do you bike here?”

the other boy was confused. “no. why?”

“oh… then, do you walk?”

“yeah. it’s only a few blocks,” felix responded, shrugging.

“do you need a ride?”

felix paused to think. “don’t you need to stay here? to lock up and everything…”

“i’ll come right back.”

you chimed in, suggesting, “i can close tonight.”

“you sure?” minho asked you. “i don’t have any food to bribe you with this time.” you both chuckled.

“it’s fine by me,” you said.

minho thanked you, stating once again that he owed you. the amount of times you’d done this for him was countless. but you never seemed to mind. and so, off they went. you were glad felix had integrated into the friend group so well. you supposed that he was just that loveable.

when it finally came time for you to close up shop having not received any other customers for the night, you waltzed into the storage room to grab your things. however, you noticed something strange sitting atop one of the shelves that hadn’t been there that morning.

an envelope. with your name on it. and a tupperware container filled with a single slice of what looked like chocolate cake.

your heart flinched. you were shocked. flustered, flushed. confused… but endeared. you hesitated. shakily, you tore open the cream-colored envelope’s seal, careful not to rip too much. you wanted to preserve its crisp smoothness.

“y/n,” the note said...

“a gift to you,

a chocolatey treat,

a token of thanks

for being so sweet.

~ me”

your heart fluttered. you ran to the kitchen, opening the container and grabbing a freshly-cleaned fork from the metal sink. you dried it off on your apron before excitedly digging into the dessert. it was more of a brownie than a cake, you realized, with melted chocolate chunks stuffed inside. it tasted amazing.

you began wondering who this mystery gifter could’ve been. it couldn’t have been minho… it simply couldn’t have. the two of you were much too close. and he was always more confident than anybody you’d met. if he liked you, you would have already known. besides, things seemed to be going well with him and chaeyoung. no… this had to be someone else. jeongin, perhaps. he did always made such high praises about your cappuccino-crafting abilities. you looked to your left and right, peering around the kitchen for signs of life. but alas, you were all alone in the cafe.

then it hit you.

of course...

felix.

you recalled the first time you met. when you had him jot his number down on the piece of paper. you remembered his handwriting; the way some characters curled on the ends, the rounded shape of his letter e, the squiggly line he used before he signed his name… it was felix. it had to be.

and you were ecstatic.

the next day, you entered the shop to find a full house. it was a saturday morning, after all. you enjoyed the breakfast rush, mainly because you got the chance to show off your coffee-making skills. you made your way to the kitchen, greeting jeongin at the counter on your way in. you said hello to minho and seungmin as well, who were busy stand-mixing and hand-folding various types of batter. they were a great team, especially on mornings like those. though they tended to bicker about ingredients and proportions, the sweet treats they’d concoct always turned out excellently.

finally, felix emerged from the storage area, duster in hand. when he saw you, however, he froze. with his eyes wide and cheeks beginning to flush, he greeted you. “h-hi, y/n… good morning!”

you let out a bit of a giggle. does he know that i know? you asked yourself. granted, the mysterious gift giver signed off as ‘me,’ so you couldn’t say you were positive… but this reaction told you otherwise. “morning!”

he nodded, smiling nervously. he gestured to the storage room. “the shelves in there are all dusted now.”

“great! i think i’ll… um…” you pointed to the room, slipping past him to stash away your belongings and put on your apron.

“yep! you… do that…” he muttered as you walked away.

however, when you walked in, you found something peculiar displayed upon the shelf.

another envelope. and another container.

you turned back toward the door to find felix peeking in. you chuckled. “so it was you!”

he stepped to the side, coming into full view. “how’d you know?” he asked.

“i just… had a feeling.” you grinned.

he paused, a tight-lipped smile spread across his face. “well, open it.”

you placed your coat and bag on one of the shelves below. you then opened up the envelope just like you had the previous night: meticulously, yet enthralled. it read,

“another dessert

for a person so sweet

will you honor me kindly,

and go out with me?

YES / NO

~ me”

once you looked back up at him, felix commented, “you were supposed to circle one…” he then began rambling. “i thought you didn’t come in until later. you don’t have to say anything right now, or at all, and-”

though you thought it adorable, you cut off his nervous prattle, stating, “yes.”

his eyes grew even wider, his strawberry tinted lips forming a circular shape. “you mean…”

“i’ll go out with you, felix,” you confirmed.

his face lit up. and yours did, too.

thus, one date became two, two became four…

by the end of february, you were officially a couple.

you were a perfect match. each of you complimented each other so well, rivaling the bittersweetness of a good cappuccino when paired with a light and fluffy slice of cake. like minho, felix’s baking abilities and knowledge never ceased to amaze you. you explained the ins and outs of coffee brewing while he told you all about how he bakes his tasty treats. he even showed you some of the recipes his mom handed down to him from generations past.

his mom sounded so wonderful… yet, a part of you felt so sorry for her. felix’s dad left when he was young, and she’s always had to fend for herself and her son all on her own. however, when she was let go from her office position the previous year, things began to spiral. she took up two jobs: one at the local grocery store and another waitressing at a restaurant in the next town. she was always so busy. but felix understood. he tried helping out, especially by working at the supermarket with her that fall. nothing seemed to get any better.

that is, until he landed his job at the cafe.

felix constantly thanked you for helping him out. chan paid him a considerable amount more than what he’d received at the supermarket, which helped him and his mother out greatly. anything would. aside from telling how lovely, smart, witty, and gorgeous you were, felix’s mission in life was to remind you how you’d saved it.

one monday, you entered the storage room on your break to find a sight all too familiar. a handwritten note and small sliver of baked loveliness, all wrapped up in a metaphorical bow of allure and intrigue. nevertheless, however, you were still just as giddy as the first time you’d received one of felix’s treats. suddenly, you felt a finger graze along your shoulder, moving your hair to the side as an arm wrapped itself around your waist. two warm, pillowy lips made contact with your cheek, gently pecking the skin. felix.

you let out a giggle. “is this for me?” you asked, facetiously.

“of course,” he muttered beside your ear, his tone low, entrancing, and chill-inducing. he kissed your cheek again, holding you close and swaying you from side to side. “it’s another brownie. try it,” he suggested as his chin settled upon your shoulder.

you did as he said, biting into the small slice of fudgy goodness. to your surprise, chunks of melted caramel oozed out of the dessert, cutting through the rich chocolatiness of the brownie with a tangy edge. you hummed in satisfaction. “a salted caramel brownie,” you noted, swallowing your bite.

he chuckled. “i figured i’d finally try it out, maybe give some to my mom… do you like it?”

you placed the sweet back into its container and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you smiled. “i love it, lix. thank you.”

he grinned back at you. pulling you closer by the waist, he sealed the space between his lips and yours with a kiss. his lips were always even softer and more captivating than the texture of his confections. sweeter, too.

after his lips left yours, he gazed into your eyes, holding you close. “open the note, love.”

you excitedly spun back around, doing as instructed. opening the crisp white envelope seal and pulling out the folded sheet of paper, you read its contents.

“a caramel kiss

for you, my love.

i can’t give you the world.

but i hope i’m enough.

~ felix”

you paused. you were puzzled. visibly so, you figured, since when you turned around the look on felix’s face shifted.

he took your hand in his, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. he kept his head down as he spoke. “i wish i could do more. i wish i could take you out to nice places, bake you batches of your favorite sweets, get you real gifts…”

a sharp pain struck your heart. “lix…” you murmured. “i don’t need any of those things. and as far as i’m concerned, these are ‘real gifts.’ they come from your heart. that’s as real as it gets.”

“i know, love, but…”

you placed a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look back up at you. “you don’t even have to do this stuff for me. i know that you care.”

he gave you a forced, shy smile. “okay. i’m glad.” he placed his own hand on top of yours, warm fingertips pressing gently against your skin.

“felix! y/n!” chan called from the kitchen. it was saturday night, and the last of the day’s customers were taking their leave. you were standing by the coffee-makers, in the middle of telling felix about the time you’d bested jeongin in a macchiato-making contest during a breakfast rush.

both of you turned toward the kitchen door, concerned. chan poked his head out. “can you come here a minute?” he looked serious. something was wrong.

nevertheless, the two of you obliged. holding hands, you made your way to the kitchen, led by chan to the cooling racks. “what’s up?” you asked.

chan cleared his throat before shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have reason to believe that one of you, or both, has violated protocol.”

you quickly grew confused. felix’s hand tightened around yours. you glanced at him, noticing how his face flushed pale. “uh…” he stammered.

“early this morning, seungmin pointed out that we’re low on cocoa powder. now, that’s odd, especially considering we had three cans of it yesterday. now we only have two.” you both nodded at him, following along. “...so i took a look at the camera footage.”

felix let go of your hand. “c-cameras?” he stuttered. you were even more confused.

“yeah. the cameras,” chan confirmed, looking felix dead in the eye. “i watched the footage from yesterday. and the day before.”

felix gulped. “you… you did….”

“what the hell is going on?” you asked.

chan let out a bit of a sigh. “y/n. were you aware that felix has been taking ingredients from the kitchen?”

your heart dropped.

you glanced at your boyfriend. he glanced back at you. he then bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes down to the floor. you looked back at chan, calmly answering, “no… i had no idea.”

“is that true?” chan asked.

“yes.” you then turned to felix, face ablaze. “it’s true.”

“then in that case, you can go for the night. i’d like to talk to felix. alone.”

after one last unreciprocated look at your boyfriend, you quickly rummaged through the storage room, collected your things, and left. you stood outside of the cafe, waiting for whatever might happen next. your stomach was doing flips. you couldn’t possibly believe what you’d heard.

minutes elapsed. it felt more like hours. all you could think to do was lean up against a lamp post and watch the gloomy clouds shift overhead. the sun was close to being fully set, casting a deep purple tint over the whole street landscape. and it looked as though it was about to rain.

after what felt like an exorbitantly long time, felix emerged from the shop. the door closed behind him as he bolted down the steps and onto the pavement, that familiar chime sending a chill through you. it sounded almost eerie that night. out of place. taunting.

“lix,” you called. you walked behind him, despite his quickening pace. but he wouldn’t stop or slow down. “lix,” you exclaimed again. no answer. finally, you grabbed his arm, realizing his apron was gone, and shouted, “felix! slow down.”

he scoffed, stopping dead in his tracks. “he fired me.”

you stared at him, blankly. once again, you couldn’t believe it.

“i tried to do something nice, and he fired me.”

“do you think it makes me feel any better?” you asked. “you getting yourself fired so you could make me little brownie experiments?” you paused, taking a deep breath. you were outraged. more so with yourself. you should’ve asked how he was finding the time or the resources to be doing what he was doing. you should’ve known. “i thought you needed this job. when were you gonna tell me you were a thief?”

“a thief?!” felix’s eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head. he was surprised at your verbiage. he’d never seen you upset like this. “y/n, i’m not a thief.” you rolled your eyes. his cheeks flushed crimson. a prickling sensation began around his eyes. a stinging, almost. tears. he looked down at his sneakers. tattered white converse. the same ones he wore every day to work. the same ones on which he’d splattered a few droplets of brownie batter during his latest attempt at making you a gift. now, it just looked like a stain of mud. “i didn’t just take cocoa powder. i took eggs… some milk… a couple cups of flour here and there… my mom got demoted at the restaurant. she works the bar now. she thinks i asked for the stuff. so yeah, i did need this job! i do need it. i just fucked up...” under his breath, trying not to give into the tears that prodded at his eyes, he remarked, “‘little brownie experiments’... that’s all they ever were to you? little brownie experiments...”

you realized what you’d said. of course that’s not all they were to you. they were everything to you. but that isn’t what you’d said. “lix… i-”

“you know what, you’re right,” he muttered, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes rapidly blinking to avoid the inevitable. “they probably weren’t even all that good.”

you took a step closer to him. a drop of water fell onto your shoulder from above. “no.. no, that’s not what i-”

but, as quickly as you approached him, he stepped back. he locked eyes with you once again. his eyes were glossy; tainted with the aftereffects of a broken heart. suddenly, a steady stream of drizzling rain began to fall from the night sky above you. felix’s lip quivered. yet, with a furrowing brow, he continued. “you know what, maybe this was all a mistake.” his voice cracked a bit; frayed at the edges. “maybe i should’ve gotten a different job. at a place that would pay me enough to be able to buy my own shit and pay my mom’s bills.” the rain fell harder now, coating his hair and dragging it down over his face. you didn’t even feel it as it completely drenched you as well.

seeing him like this affected you just as much as your words did him. guilt. the panging, crushing weight of guilt laid heavily upon your heart. “felix…” you whimpered, tears of your own beginning to cloud your line of sight. though, you could still see clear enough to watch him shake his head, turning around and beginning his ascent up the avenue. clear as ever. even despite the pitter-patter of evening gloom.

sopping wet, you marched back into the shop. you ripped off your apron, throwing it down upon the counter. you then walked back behind it to start preparing to close up for the night. all you wanted was to go home.

that is, until you spotted an envelope tucked beside the cappuccino maker.

a creamy white envelope, with your name and a heart inscribed on the back. and a tupperware container. a single teardrop descended from the corner of your eye, resembling the droplets of rain that covered your form. you carefully took hold of the envelope. you gently tore it open, making sure not to rip it, just like you’d done the very first and subsequent times.

“another present

for my love;

my dear y/n,

sent from above.

~ felix”

a drop of rain fell from your hair onto the page, dampening his name. the black ink began to run, the letters seeping into each other.

you could no longer control your tears. you took a seat on the floor, back resting against a leg of the table upon which the coffee makers stood. the metal was cold. but you paid it no mind. with your head on your knees, legs bent and arms wrapped around them, you cried. audibly. you couldn’t believe how you’d spoken to him. you should’ve known that he didn’t have the money to bake you these little presents on his own. you should’ve realized from the moment he confirmed it was him. at least, that’s what you thought to yourself as the tears expelled themselves from your system.

he just wanted to make you something special. yes, he broke the rules. yes, he stole from the cafe. and yes, he knew it was wrong. but he just wanted to make you something special. it was the only way he believed he could. and you wish you’d seen that. not just so you could’ve prevented it, but also so you could’ve appreciated it even more. so you could’ve seen that not only was he working overtime to make you something you might enjoy, but that he was risking his job for you and his mother. it wasn’t a perfect gesture - not by a long shot. but he meant well. he always did. and you didn’t even give him the chance to explain.

you loved him.

after a few moments of solitude, you regained your breath. you sniffled, looking down at the note. you then stood back up, taking hold of the container. its contents looked delicious. but you couldn’t consume it. not even if you’d been hungry. so, you dumped it into the trashcan beside the table. and, with a deep, shaky breath, you ripped up the letter and envelope into tiny pieces. it was a bittersweet feeling, letting go. but you had to do it. and so, home you went.

a week passed. things never really changed at the cafe once felix left. weeknights were still as slow as ever. maybe even slower. you missed him.

minho emerged from the kitchen one evening to find you wiping down the cappuccino maker with a coffee-stained rag. it was the third time you’d done it that day. twice more than you were getting paid for. and of course he noticed. “how’re you holding up?” he asked.

you barely glanced up at him, busy rubbing the same spot on the metal machine over and over. this stupid stain just wouldn’t budge. each time you’d gone over it that day, you couldn’t seem to make it go away. it plagued your mind, infiltrating your subconscious when you least expected it until you finally decided to go back to it for the second time, then the third. it was a real mood killer. though your mood hadn’t been very lively when the day began, either. “‘m fine,” you replied through gritted teeth, brows angled inward as your focus remained on the task at hand.

“are you?” he questioned, playfully. he leaned on the counter behind you, crossing his arms and watching you scrub. “you’ve been going at it with that thing for hours now. what’d it ever do to y-”

“i’m fine!” you interjected. you then paused, both in speech and action. suddenly, you were aware of how fast you’d been rubbing the machine. as well as how loud your voice had raised itself. you turned around. “...sorry.”

he gave a pitied smile, crossing his arms. “it’s ok. i’m fine,” he replied, mimicking you. it made you chuckle. he was glad it did. “is, uh… is this a bad time to ask you to lock up? i’ve got a.. uh…”

“a date?” you supposed, unfeeling.

he cleared his throat, glancing between you, the clock above you, and his shoes. “yeah,” he confirmed. “with chaeyoung. would you mind?”

“not at all.”

“you sure?” you nodded. “alright… i owe you one… or ten...” he joked, untying his apron.

“no you don’t,” you murmured, eyes drifting to the side. you almost turned back around, heart set on getting to that stain, until you felt his hand on your arm. you glanced at each other for a moment. he looked sad. sorry. he pitied you. and you hated it. yet, as he took you in his arms, wrapping you into a tight, benevolent hug, you became a little less tense. a little less angry. you hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder. this was the first time you’d ever engaged in such a gesture with your coworker. sure, you were friends. and sure, you’d talked about some deep stuff on nights like these with nothing better to do. but this was different. meaningful. sweet.

after a moment, minho remarked, “you know i miss him too, right?” he sounded mockingly peeved. “he was your boyfriend but he was my friend.”

you looked up at him, confused. “you’re not still friends?”

he chuckled. “no! he’s avoiding me the same way he’s avoiding you.”

laughing with him, you responded, “shit… i’m sorry, minho.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.” he let go of you, hands remaining on your sides for a moment. “you both messed up. it’s not all your fault.” you nodded to him, a reluctant, close-lipped smile upon your face. he glanced up at the clock again before pulling his apron off. “i’ve gotta go. thanks again for locking up, y/n.” he walked past the counter to the front of the store. “i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he added, pointing at you while striding backwards toward the door.

“see you tomorrow,” you replied, waving to him. “have fun.” you still sounded a bit bitter. you couldn’t help it.

“thanks,” he said. the chimes twinkled as the door closed. it haunted you.

and with that, he was gone. nothing but you, your rag, and that unnerving coffee stain for another half-hour’s time.

you heard the opening and closing of the door behind you once again. with a sigh, not even bothering to turn around, you blurted, “we’re about to lock up for the night.”

no response. odd. maybe they didn’t hear you. you tried again, raising your voice a bit but continuing your attempts to clear up the stain all the while. “i apologize, but we’re closed for the night-”

“one salted caramel brownie, please.”

a familiar voice. a familiar, low-toned, nostalgia-inducing voice. the voice that, at one time, softened for you… close enough to your ear to make your stomach tie itself in knots. the voice that made you giggle, the voice that called you “love”... the voice that cracked when faced with the realization that it was never to be heard by you again. you spun around.

a familiar face, too.

felix.

his eyes gazed into yours. somber, silent.

“y-you...”

“hey.”

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @ncityluvvs, @vera-liscious (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

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heyitsmerose · 3 years ago

Text

Waterworks - Yeosang

Genre; Angst, a sprinkle of fluff. Hurt-comfort

Words; 982 (including the prologue, oops~) 634 (excluding it) 250 (for just the main part/italics- see I kinda did stick to the limit)

Request; "AHHH CONGRATS ON 250 FOLLOWERSS! Heres my request, I would appreciate if you did mine. Please call it 'waterworks' for yeosang. fluff and angst would be nice. So you have a bad day, and you come home crying, little do you know, he's had a bad day too, so you both end up just having a little cry seshhh together. thank you again ahhhh!" ~@atinyytrashcan (tysm ahh!)

Summary; Unable to solve a recent case, you can't help but feel incompetent and helpless... besides, you're a cop, it's what you do for a living. It takes a toll on you, as you breakdown from guilt, ranting to your best friend. Unbeknownst to you, Yeosang has been feeling the same way from his stressful life as an idol. You both breackdown in each others arms, resorting to letting out your tears in the comfort of each other's embrace.

Warnings; way too much angst and a lottt of whump

Once again, I couldn't stick to the 250-word word limit. Enjoy this longer than intended fic I guess. I tried my best to condense it, and made most of it a prologue just so I could give context. The italics part (aka the main plot is exactly 250 words to I guess that counts) Regardless I had wayy too much fun writing this, so thank you for sending it in! I hope you like it :)

prologue

Your hands shook as you gripped your phone, frustratedly ranting to the person on the other side of the line. Your voice shook, as you rambled, the lump in your throat growing.

"Her family approached me today, and I- I just couldn't..." You sighed shakily, your breath laboured as the corner of your eyes stung.

"Y/n, take a deep breath, it's not your fault, we'll find her don't worry-" Your friend reassured you from the other side of the line before you interrupted her.

"Han-ah you don't get it, I saw the looks on their faces, they just- I can't- I- I'm so incompetent" Your voice broke, as the tears starting cascading down your face. You sniffed, as you felt your eyes filling with more tears.

"Y/n, don't cryyy" Your friend whined as you rubbed at your nose roughly. "Haneul, I should have found her, this is my fault, I'm so- I just- I- I can't-" You choked on a sob, before muting yourself, and covering your face with your hands. You sobbed into your palms as you recalled the previous incidents.

You were working in law enforcement as a detective and one of your most recent cases tugged on your heart strings. A 9 year old girl, had been taken away, and you had been working on the case for more than a week, but still couldn't locate her. Today, her family came in for updates, their emotions when you revealed you still had nothing broke you. You felt helpless and blamed yourself for not being able to find her.

You picked up the phone, mumbling something about calling her later, before cutting the call and setting your phone aside. You sobbed as you gripped the roots of your hair, your cries reverberating across the room. Your breath laboured and you gasped, choking on your cries. You were interrupted by the door knob of your home jiggling, as you heard keys jingling from the other side. You immediately got up from your spot on the ground, rushing over to the bathroom, before locking yourself in.

end of prologue

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You knew it was Yeosang, your boyfriend as his practice probably got over by now. He also had the keys, so there was no doubt it was him. Despite this, you couldn't let him see you like this, so you rushed over to the washroom to freshen up. You turned on the tap, covering any noises you made while, you washed your face, rubbing at your nose, to get rid of its slight red tinge. You splashed some water on your face as you freshened up.

Meanwhile, the noise of soft sniffling and the occasional cry from the other side of the door startled you. You immediately wiped under your eyes, making sure there were no remnants from earlier, as you rushed out the bathroom. You saw Yeosang, tossing a gym bag over one of the chairs, before taking a seat on the sofa. He buried his head in his hands, as he let out silent whimpers, occasionally cutting himself off by a string of sobs.

Your eyes widened, as you immediately rushed to his side, pulling his head into your stomach as you stood in front of him. He hesitantly hugged back, wrapping his arms around your waist, as your played with his hair.

"Hey, hey, hey, Yeo, what's wrong honey?" You asked, as his sobs got louder. His tears wet your shirts as he finally raised his head, his bloodshot eyes, looking right into yours. His eyes widened as he pulled you to sit down next to him, taking your hands in his.

"Y/n, what- what happened, are y-you okay?" He cut himself off with a sniffle trying to hold in his emotions to check up on you. You realised he must have noticed your red eyes and nose, and being the selfless angel he was, he wanted to know if you were alright.

You nodded, eyes filling with tears as you saw the state he was in. You nodded, as you cupped his cheek, bringing his head to your chest. He shakily sighed, before you felt your shirt get wet with tears again. You sighed as well, before closing your eyes, as your tears fell.

You ran your hands through his hair, as you cried, sniffling from time to time. Yeosang knew something was wrong. He wanted to suck it up and comfort you, be there for you as you cried in his arms, but having quite a rough day himself, he couldn't find the strength too, instead resorting to finding comfort in your embrace as you both silently cried.

No words needed to be spoken, the soft sounds of the both of your cries being the only noises in the room. He sniffled harshly, before rubbing at his nose and under his cheeks, wiping his tears, before sitting up to face you.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I've just have a really shit day. I couldn't hit one of the notes during our recording and it bothered me for the rest of the day, causing me to mess up during practice too. I just-" His voice broke as tears started flowing once again. "It was a lot... I feel incompetent" He sighed as he took your hands in his. Hearing his words, you started crying too... because thats exactly how you felt too; 'incompetent'. "Please tell me what's wrong" He whispered as he sniffed loudly, trying to suck up his own emotions.

"I feel the same... incompetent. I'm supposed to be a cop, but I can't even do my job right" You whined as you roughly rubbed under your eyes, trying to get rid of the tears. He simply pulled you into his embrace as you snuggled your head into the crook of his. His hands, running through your hair, calming you down. "Let's stay like this for a bit"

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cchocolatekat · 4 years ago

Text

fanfic rambles ft. chicken scratch

these are just some of my own thoughts about my first completed multi-chap fic!

feel free to read it, feel free to ignore. Not reading will not impact your fic-reading experience, reading it might make you notice more things/make you wonder “yo wtf is op’s mind ON” and I will have to reply “a lotta hamsters being injected with 90% angst concentrate with a side of circus music”

Proceed at your own discretion <3

background tidbits about secrets hidden in the chicken scratch:

originally was supposed to be a one-shot, ~3k (lmao I tried, and then the feral hamsters in my brain went NOPE)

og scenes were everything in chap 1, then gojo’s (sorta) breakdown and yuji’s comment in chap 3. EVERYTHING else was a result of me adding too much sprinkles of headcanons and “what can I do to make this fic hurt more >:D” ideas

whenever i write fluff i am spiritually making an expression of extreme pain; yall that shit is HARD. fluff writers, how do u do it??? I cant even write simple kisses; the extent of my abilities are gushy-mushy descriptions of hand-holding send help OTL (actually there was that one scene in chap 2 that went from fluff to lowkey thirsty and im just like ???? how did i get here confused.gif)

may or may not have accidentally slipped into haibaraxnanami hell... when I was first making additional scenes, I wanted something to show the kouhais realizing Gojo was never quite easy to interact with, that having Geto made communicating easier (lol my hand slipped hard and oOps half of chap 2 was given to them and I am not sorry)

love heavy foreshadowing of death...also nanami being scared of making promises...*chefs kiss*

Geto being the one sent to rescue them was purely headcanon and rather last minute; in the manga we only see him being in the morgue with nanami, but it stood out to me--why wasn’t gojo there?

Shoko is a GIFT so where’s all the platonic friendships fics huh??? (sigh gotta make what I wanna eat TTATT)

she will always be a part of their story--i will die fighting for this lmao

on that note, the pinky promise came out of nowhere. it wasn’t even an aha moment; my hands moved by themselves that day I kid you not

One of my favorite scenes is Nanami telling Gojo he is leaving. They are both so broken by the absence of their partner, and those rough edges would clash in the most tragic way possible without either realizing it. Gojo’s forced admittance that he was the strongest was an absolute delight to unleash >:D (sadkjsaas if we ever get a manga scene i will honestly cry)

tagging is a mess and i changed it like 5 times...i wasn’t too explicit or graphic (I don’t think??) so hopefully whatever I tagged covered everything ^^”

Angsty Easter Eggs that people might cry to me about:

chap titles (lol go take a look at the sentence they form! im really proud of this uwu)

geto’s coping mechanism/side hobby being origami (I swear it’s not me salty about getting papercuts)

it’s cuz i needed some sort of dragonfly motif in this piece (lmao if you know why, you know why) and origami was the best way to do it...plus arts and crafts IS a good therapeutic way to destress, dr.shoko approved! 😤 😤

origami from chap 2>shoko finds it (or did she =w=)>gojo

the test

The cleaner turns back and removes something framed on the wall. It is something strikingly familiar, but Gojo does not have the energy to remember why. (chap 2)

Chap 3 had a flashback about Gojo scoring lower than Geto and then Geto commenting he will frame his test on his ways--he does go through with it!

Geto’s death

Shit, I still need to update Shoko. (chap 3)

Headcanon territory but there’s something in the way vol0 played out that makes me think Gojo sort of knew?? that it was it for Geto?? Sorta like he knew going in that he was going to have to fight to kill, so it makes sense that he would tell Shoko before hand (ahem again, me pushing forward my sss trio friendship agenda)

#jjk #satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru #fanfic #fanfic rambles #this is probably not the extent of all the easter eggs but tbh i cant really remember anymore...lmao short term memory oopsies #me writing satosugu is basically dumping all my angst salt into the cooking pot and shimmering for a few months #if i had an easier time writing fluff i wonder if my fics would be more sweet and more happy endings TTvTT #buT at the end of the day it all balances out bc my fics are angst af but my ART is usually pretty crack :>>#or so i say as i consider drawing some angsTY nanabaras lmao #secrets hidden in the chicken scratch #It would be neat if I can come back in a few years and read the thoughts of me-who-just-finished >:3 #jjk spoilers #this is very much a self indulgent post but if any of my readers actually read thru all this i hope you have a fantastic weekend ;>

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evergreen-dryad · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 신의 탑 | Tower of God Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Khun Aguero Agnis/Twenty-Fifth Baam | Jyu Viole Grace Characters: Khun Aguero Agnis, Twenty-Fifth Baam | Jyu Viole Grace, Rak Wraithraiser, Ship Leesoo, Team Ship (Tower of God), Team Sweet and Sour (Tower of God), Team Novick (Tower of God) Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Fluff, Canon Compliant, somewhat resolved sexual tension, Christmas Episode of a Floor Fic Really, Christmas, Birthday, Christmas-Birthday, Surprise Party, Attempt at Humor, slight sprinkles of angst Summary:

They are on the 76th floor, aka the Christmas floor. Right in time for Baam's birthday.

The test is simple, and it is not. The only test is for Khun: his patience when it comes to organising a surprise Christmas-birthday party with other people.

[FAIL: If Baam finds out. RSVP?]

//Merry Christmas everyone, here’s my work for the khunbam nation discord Secret Santa revealed!! For Erika: who asked for a Christmas-birthday fic and Khun getting super stressed about it :DD

Basically... my attempt at a floor fic and it grew out of control again oops.

excerpt below!

They are on the 76th floor, just in time before the season crush begins — where it will be the heart of the stampede that occurs every December.

For it is the Floor of the Saint's Forge — one of the seven headquarters of the Workshop. It is notorious for being ruled by a legendary figure that purportedly hands out A-grade weapons through its tests.

It's a very good way to ensure the Workshop stays in business in this area — land is already cheap up here, in the floor right below Wolhaiksong's, where Baek Ryun's living forest still exerts some of its force.

They say some of the pines can be seen growing through the cracks of the shinsu sky here, tenacious in their age and long curling roots.

Crisp air nips at the skin on his nose, and Khun shivers slightly as he pulls his jacket closer round him. He wasn't a fan of the cold climate here, but there's nothing he can do about it but grit his teeth and stay there till they've got what they've come for.

They're also right in the Christmas season, how irritating. Bright lights and neon ads flashed everywhere to lure in the storm of Regulars sure to come.

Their test admin is also irritatingly nowhere to be found. Apparently, according to information from the lightbearers' network, they insisted on remaining scarce, and could only really be found at night, following the lead of that legendary Ruler of theirs. Most irritating.

Hence why in the meantime, they were living on this floor. It wasn't a bad place to be — there was easy access to supplies, and there were blissfully quiet cottages available for accommodation.

Most of all, Baam seemed to really like this floor.

From the moment they had stepped in here, his eyes had perked up and he had never stopped looking round in clear fascination. The trees going up, with all their gaudy decorations had arrested his attention, and he could stop in front of the displays for long, whether they were strings of stars in between lanes or murals of choirs of angels.

The mini snowmen and reindeer would bring a little smile of awe if he noticed them dancing about in displays or on cards, or if he heard the holiday's carols blasting out of shopfronts to the peal of bells.

It's definitely the smell of gingerbread wafting on the breeze, and the sight of rows of peppermint canes that stopped him longest in his stride.

The wonder of it on his face. Khun couldn't help but smile seeing it.

"What's the name of this festivity again, Khun?" Baam asks, catching up to where he and Rak were waiting behind the others. The little smile, still on his lips. It was perhaps the happiest he'd seen Baam in a while.

It occurred to Khun then that Baam had, most likely, never taken part of this kind of festive holiday. There are no holidays for gods, after all. Not in particular for those on the run.

"Christmas." He finds the words after a while. "When people celebrate the birth of a sun god or indulge in mass revelry with gift-giving. I never celebrated it much." Rak gawks at him also, but pretends not to just as immediately. He didn't hide his smile at that. It seemed this was something they all had in common after all.

Baam blinks a few times, pace slowing. "I think I might have heard of it before," he says finally.

Khun shrugs the easy joke of you've been living under a rock off, "Hard not to with Quant Blitz's face everywhere." He points out, the ranker's grinning mug on a billboard selling fried chicken. This one even has one of those red hats on his head, whether it's real or edited in.

Rak snorts out long and loud at that, and then growls, "We're looking for these test admin turtles," and the subject is closed then

Later, Khun does point out where on the pocket calendar the holiday falls to him, and tucks away the little grateful smile Baam directs towards him, along with the pang of warmth it brings.

#tower of god #khunbam #khun aguero agnis #25th baam #twenty fifth baam #kami no tou #tog #jue viole grace #team shibisu #rak wraithraiser #my writing #ed fics

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saladejin · 4 years ago

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Writing Tag Game ❤

Thanks dippie (@bangtanloverboys) for the tag 🥺

I might put a read more since my answers were a little on the lengthy side, but I love and appreciate everyone who follows me and thought you guys might want to know a little more about me, so here u go

^-^

What is your ideal setting for focusing on your writing? - When I actually do write (oops), it tends to be in my bedroom. Somewhere comfy and quiet where there are not many opportunities for people to interrupt. I also pretty much always write at ungodly hours too ... something about being a night owl and finding solace in the peace of nighttime I guess? My brain juices A C T I V A T E.

What is your favourite genre to write? - Whew, well I guess I love writing fluffy romance scenarios (you see a lot of canon-compliant stuff in my masterlist), or domestic fluff with some angst and sometimes smut sprinkled in there. Lately though, I’ve been mad interested in fantasy/supernatural/adventure tropes, they seem so fun to play around with. (also idk if slow-burn is a genre but I CAN’T HELP IT WHEN IT COMES TO SERIES).

Do you prefer to write on paper or digitally? -Oh digital for sure. I need to be able to edit and fix mistakes from the get-go otherwise I’d be wayyyy too frustrated. I use pretty notebooks for ideas and brainstorming though 🥰

It’s the middle of the night and you suddenly wake up with an idea. What do you do? - You bet that bitch is getting written right then and there ... if I can, at least. This kind of thing doesn’t strike me too often, so that’s why I’m not dishing out fics like it’s some kind of buffet, but the inspiration 9 times out of 10 hits me when I’m travelling - from overseas holidays to a simple road trip. If i can’t write it in that moment, I’ll make an elaborate plan in my notes app or write it in my physical planning notebook. (P.S - Most likely I’ll be trying to sleep at night and keep coming up with ideas for the same fic. lol, when you trade sleep for writing bullet points in your phone a hundred times a night u go a little crazy 🤪)

Who is your favourite person to write about? - Well I really do enjoy writing about OT7, but it does take a lot of time and management to get perfect in one fic, so I’m not really sure if I can say it’s my favourite, even if I do love it to bits. I think my answer to this could be Seokjin, because I love coming up with witty crackhead-ish dialogue (and we all know how he can be a muse in that aspect). Other than that, maybe Jimin because his soft, affectionate and playful personality just gets to me. I love writing it so much 😭 (Yoongi is a close second).

Do you like making your own characters, or do you usually write about real people? -When it comes to OC’s, I tend to only implement them if they move the plot forward or provide some kind of benefit/dilemma to the overall story and characters. I’m not one to really enjoy manifesting a bunch of characters on my own, because my brain would never be able to keep track of everything (without extensive planning that I just don’t have the energy for lmao). That’s why I turn to fanfiction 😄 Using real people allows for more creative freedom regarding other aspects of writing, such as plot and world building, character dynamics, even genres. If you have a grasp on a personality of someone real out there, it can become easy to make characters (that u base off that person) seem more dimensional and human. And that opens many doors with putting those personas into various situations. Writers can practise consistency and development, until one day they feel confident enough to branch out and write their own characters into a completely new story. BUT THAT’S NOT SPEAKING FOR EVERYONE! Fanfiction is purely whatever you want it to be for you haha. A lot is just self-indulgent because we love the people we write about. I get it, and I’m very much the same lol (damn who said people couldn’t ramble in tag games? because I sure as hell just did oopsies).

Have you ever written a book/story with more than 15 chapters (100K words)? -Haven’t reached that word count quite yet, but CAU is in the 90k range and there are 20+ chapters ... so not far off 😗

How often do you get ideas? -Hmm well I’ll admit it doesn’t happen often on my own. The ideas I have that materialise out of nowhere ALWAYS want to be some kind of long series, because I can’t help myself (and that’s why I hold off on posting wips). But occasionally a one-shot/short chaptered fic idea might strike me. Oftentimes when I ask for requests I get motivated to really brainstorm and plan something, but I think that’s just because there’s some kind of set goal at play. Someone requests ‘fluffy honeymoon seokjin with some smut’ and I instantly try to plan for what I can do with that specific idea, if that makes sense. I do requests here, but keep in mind I’m not the fastest writer!

Do you ever get an idea that you really like, but just can’t seem to finish? - Please sjsjsjjshdkjsh, I think many of my mutuals on here can vouch for the way I scream and fuel on people’s ideas, but struggle with writing or finishing anything of my own. I go through literal writing bursts, and that means I can generally get down as many as 5-10k words in one sitting, but then also have long breaks in between. IF ONLY MY IDEAS WEREN’T SO SLOW-BURNING 😩

What is your least favourite plot? - There’s not much I don’t enjoy if it’s written well tbh (except yandere maybe). But the clichéd plots that revolve around many high school AU’s usually annoy me to no end (tedious jealousy and stereotypes etc.). I also detest when the main conflict of a plot is centred around a massive unnecessary misunderstanding, and there’s all this pain for no reason. I have to prepare for angsty plots anyway because I don’t want my heart hurting in general, but those get me MAD.

#tag games #kat plays #moots #I'M SORRY FOR THE LONG ANSWERS LOL

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vanaera · 6 years ago

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Mikrokosmos

[Moodboard made by the wonderful @bluesxde] Synopsis | There are three times in Jungkook's life where he has fallen in love with you and most of the time, they are more than what they appear to be (Or the three times Jungkook learned what falling in love felt like because of you). Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, drama, some angst (surprise hons!) Wordcount | 7.8k Warning | Mentions of bullying A/N | Some parts in this installment have references of the garden talk Jungkook and the OC had when he was 17 (read “The Sprout”) and the Lee Taeyong Incident (mentioned in “Melodies in a Distance”). You can view these stories first before reading this, although this fic can be read as a standalone (though reading the garden talk would give you a better view of the concerns Jungkook was holding, hence, it will explain the depth this installment will give to the whole series).

Read more football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose!

Some things do not seem what they appear to be. A frown appears to be a sign of discontentment but can actually be an intuited expression in unprecedented incidents. Smiles do not always mean satisfaction and pleasure but can also be a forged sign of strength and invulnerability. Likewise, a home does not automatically signify an establishment composed of four walls and a roof. It can be a hobby, a memory, or even a person. Despite being bound by the sense making of people and the laws of the world, every bit in this universe is more than what they are. Each represents the special and significant intersection of the world and its phenomena that can only happen once and never again. And just like how you told him that the universe the people live in are more than what it is, Jungkook came to realize that his affections for you are more than what they seem to be.

The first time Jungkook encountered this knowledge, it was through your story about the star prince.

“Did you know, the Star Prince lived in a kingdom called Constellatia?” you close your giant storybook, a sewn stack of papers Jungkook learned was just filled with your random sketches, and grinned at him. Broken teeth and all.

Jungkook scrunches his nose. “That name sounds just like normal constellation. It sounds lame.”

“No, it's not!” you huff behind him and Jungkook feels your presence behind him when a sprinkle of sand lands on his castle.

“Oops. Sorry,” you mutter and Jungkook, your ever-stubborn seven-year-old neighbor that moved in beside your home six months ago, clicks his tongue. He turns his back to you and decides to build another castle.

You seem unbothered by it as you plopped beside him. You’re already used to your neighbor turning his back to you that you started to see this as an endearing quality about him.

Jungkook has always been this aloof since he moved in with his mother. He doesn’t speak to anyone at school, not even to you! Sure, it was unsettling to know that a kid like you does not care for wonderful stories and playdates and prefers to play alone but as your mother told you, you shouldn’t give up and Jungkook just needs time to warm up. And yeah, you learned that friendship takes time to bloom as after a few months of your constant befriending tactics, Jungkook for the very first time, met you halfway with a shy “You already know I’m Jungkook, right? So…yeah, can you...can you tell me about the story you told at school yesterday again?”

Anyway, you started blabbering again. “You see, the Constellatia is the universe we see. The stars up above us at nights belong to the Star Prince’s kingdom.”

Jungkook still has his back turned to you and you pout. You made your voice louder. “The Star Prince is really cool, no? He lives in a world full of stars! How amazing can that be?”

Jungkook hums as he piles another bucket of sand.

Seeing his disinterest, you realize it’s time to bring out your big guns. “You know, I found that the cosmos are not what they seem to be.”

This time, you successfully caught your neighbor’s attention. Jungkook halts on his third bucket of sand and looks at you, suspicious. “How did you know?”

You find yourself smiling. You knew this will work. “Well...I saw the 'cosmos' on the TV. It showed some pretty pink and purplish waves of skies and I've never seen anything prettier than that in my whole life,” you glance at Jungkook and after assuring he's interested, you smile wider. “And I figured that my toys are not what they usually are, I thought then that the cosmos are more than what they really are.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “What do you mean you found your toys 'not what they usually are'“?

“I found out that they're actually alive! Mom even assured me that they really are living and breathing! She said they just come to life when people are asleep because they are afraid of capitalism?” your eyes wander to the right and after recalling that your mother used the same term, you affirmed it with a grin. “Yeah, capitalism.”

When you see Jungkook scrunching up his forehead, you shrug. “Don't ask me. I don't know what capitalism is. My mom just said so, but I bet it must be really bad because it prevents us from having an animated conversation with our toys.”

You may have not actually narrated the story of the Star Prince to Jungkook, he came home with a story on the tips of his tongue and an excited jump in his steps. Although the effect of your cosmos thingy and the toys turned out to be something you didn't expect when Jungkook informed you the next day that his mother scolded him for knowing something adults should only deal with.

“She even told me I'll get plenty of white hair if I continue talking about it. Don't bring it up again, okay?,” Jungkook looks into your eyes. “My Jeon Effect will be in danger.”

“Okay, I promise,” you give him a small smile and raised your pinky for him to interlock with his own. He locks it and presses his lips on his thumb.

“Promise sealed. For the sake of the Jeon Effect.”

“Yeah, for the Jeon Effect!”

“Oh!” Jungkook sputters, almost jolting as he remembers your unfinished story yesterday. “What about the Star Prince again?”

You cross your arms and wiggle your eyebrows. “I thought you weren't interested yesterday?”

Jungkook instantly finds his cheeks and ears heating up. “I uh–um I–”

“He lives in a kingdom called Constellatia,” you chuckle at the way his eyes widen.

“And?”

“That's it. I'm still doing my umm research? Yeah, research about it, so that's what I only know as of now.” Seeing his shoulders deflate, you immediately reassure him, “But! You'll be the first person to know of him once I figured out his story!”

“Promise?” Jungkook holds out his pinky but what he said seems to just pass through your right ear and out of the other.

“Don't you think we're doing too much pinky swears?”

“There's no such thing as too much pinky swears–do you promise or not?”

“Fine, fine, okay, I promise,” you lock your fingers again and press a soft kiss on your thumbs.

The both of you went home with fingers interlocked, eventhough it was only two months ago that Jungkook told you he hated any kind of skinship because it's corny. He didn't mind the dampness of your sweaty hand that afternoon, so you relished the warmth of his hand with a big, goofy smile.

The story of the Star Prince was brought up again a year later, coinciding with your neighbor's birthday, and therefore, was told in a pillowfort the both of you made in his bedroom.

“His hair is made of stardust and starlights?” Jungkook aks and you nod, opening your flashlight.

“Yeah, the Star Prince's hair glows so much that when he feels happy or excited,” you press a button on your flashlight, turning the scope of the light much bigger than before, “his whole body can emit light that can enshroud the whole room around him just like this.”

Jungkook's jaw drops in amazement when he sees how gigantic the light of your flashlight shined on his wall that it almost mimicked a spotlight.

Happy with your neighbor's reaction, you continue, “Because of these instances that makes him burn up with so much light, his kingdom Constellatia can easily provide the sun enough shine to light up every planet in our galaxy for a few years. On the usual basis, his optimism provides enough daylight to our world. When fortunate enough, his light crosses to the dark realm which allows the Midnight Princess–who balances the light he casts with darkness and also his destined bride–to pull up the moon and use the stars the Star Prince created to draw constellations on her skies.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jungkook says, eyes shimmering and for a moment's second you thought the glow in his eyes can rival the “spotlight” you created on his wall. However, it soon diminishes and you're left staring at his honey brown eyes again when he pulls his lips into a small frown. “But, how can the prince and princess meet if they're separated by two realms? Of course they have to meet face-to-face to fall in love, right?”

“That's where you're wrong, Kook. You don't need to physically meet to fall in love.”

Jungkook just looks at you more confused than ever.

“You see, the eyes are not the only ones which can see,” you reach out to him and Jungkook freezes in his spot as you place your palm flat against his chest. “Your heart can see, too. Far more than what your eyes could.” You giggle, “See? You're nervous. I can't see it on your face but I can feel how fast your heartbeats are.”

Jungkook lets out a squeak and before your eyes can see the reds that must have colored his cheeks, he swats your hand away. You laugh and he feels his cheeks become hotter. “Wh-what? I-I'm not nervous.”

“But you didn't deny that your heartbeats are really, really fast, Kook.” When he didn't reply, you let out a chuckle.

“Anyway, as I told you, you need not to physically meet to fall in love. The constellations the Midnight Princess lays on her skies manages to dwell a little longer on daybreak just enough for the Star Prince to have a glimpse on. Most of them have messages, others just artworks of the princess, nevertheless, it warms the heart of the Star Prince. In return, the Star Prince creates more stars for her to use and paint on the skies, each containing a secret message that unravels once the princess touches it. Some of them express the Star Prince’s admiration for the princess’ artworks, but most of them tell how much love he feels for her.” You smile at him, “Remember the star we saw yesterday at the playground which our teacher pointed out wasn't actually a star but a planet?”

Jungkook nods.

“That’s Venus. The joy the Star Prince felt when the Midnight Princess returned his feelings made him shine so much that the planet Venus caught tons of his starlight enough for her to shine like a star even in broad daylight up ‘til evening to carry the message ‘You’re utterly beautiful’ for the princess.” You turn to Jungkook, “See, Kook? Essential entities like love are invisible to the eye and can only be seen with the heart. And with that, here’s another gift of mine for your birthday.”

You turned off your flashlight and immediately, the two of you are surrounded by darkness.

“Look above you, Kook.”

Jungkook raises his head and his mouth opens in wonder, “Whoa.” Above him were thousands of constellations, lining up every corner of his room with glowing stardust and starlight. Some were red, orange, and pink, the others in blue, purple, and green, while almost all of them are yellow. Most of them even look like they’re glittering gold. They fill up every space in his room and for a moment, Jungkook feels he isn’t in his room but in the outer space–in the Constellatia you painted for him and you, a secret world only both of you know.

The stars you placed on the ceiling with the help of his mother that morning when Jungkook is playing outside are only glow-in-the-dark sticky stars you bought with your mother in Walmart. However, they looked so much more than what they really are when they are spread above you, blanketing the both of you in comfort and wonder no other world can do.

As if taking the words straight from your mouth, Jungkook gasps in wonder, “This…this is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is,” you feel your smile growing into a grin. “It’s the masterpiece the Midnight Princess created when she and the Star Prince finally met in the first eclipse a thousand years ago.” You turn towards Jungkook again and he looks at you with surprise when you place a soft peck against his cheeks. “Happy 8th birthday, Kook.”

You came home that night with your end of the metal-and-strings phone he crafted (“so we can you know…call each other whenever we feel like it,” Jungkook mused while running a hand through his hair) along with a new milestone in your friendship with your neighbor.

When Jungkook’s mother came to bid him goodnight, she found him smiling in his sleep for the very first time. That same night, you found yourself dreaming about one single sentence over and over again:

“Y/N, you know…you’re my very first friend.”

The second time Jungkook encountered your view of things being more than what they seem to be, it was because you followed him when he ran away from home.

Teenage years have done Jungkook no good. A complete 180 turnover from his peaceful childhood, the seventeen-year-old him was not someone he could ever be proud of. He lost hope on his dreams, he never had any plans for his future, fucked up everything he built his life on, he traded your friendship for some twisted kind of brothership with Lee Taeyong and the other hotshot kids, and he even got into constant fights with his mom about his growing bad reputation in school. Sure, he asked for forgiveness from his mom and you when he woke up from his horrible mindset after the Lee Taeyong Incident which involved you six months ago, but it's not enough. It will never be enough. So Jungkook decides he'll stop fucking up everyone's lives by leaving everything he’s ever known. He've already caused everyone he loves enough damage to last their lifetimes.

However, all of his plans started to go downhill the moment he spot the beanie he gifted to you three years ago on some hunched up gal in the bus. The seconds seem to fast after that–he jumped off on the next stop, started sprinting for God knows where, and now you're here running with your breath leaving you as you try to keep up with him.

“Jungkook, stop!”

"Y/N! Just go home!" Jungkook yells over his shoulder before he faces forward again, biting his lips in frustration. He wills his legs to fasten his pace. He’s already a city away from home and only now when he stepped down the bus stop did he know you’ve fucking followed him. Why the hell did you follow him? How come you’ve known his plan of running away? Do you actually think you can convince him to come home, when what–after he just screamed at his mom that she can never help him with his feelings of un-usefulness? When he knows he’ll never lead a meaningful life even if he tried? When he knew that everyone’s right–he’s just a scum dragging down everyone around him and it took him one stupid year to realize that they’re true? When he’s hurt everyone he loves, even you, far worse than what he intended? Jungkook chokes down a grunt and pulls the straps of his backpack tighter. He’s not coming back. Looking behind will only hold him back and he didn’t need that as much as you don’t need him and he’ll be fine with that–

“Jungkook, can you fucking stop and look at me, just for once!”

Jungkook pays no heed and continues running but when the absence of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind him dawns on him, every limb in his body ceases into a staggering stop.

Even if you didn’t follow him, Jungkook simultaneously feels sick and relieved to know that you’ll never leave him alone.

“Jungkook–”

“What were you thinking?! You knew I would fucking do this and you even thought of fucking following me–Why did you even follow me?!”

“I–uh–I–“

“It’s fucking midnight, Y/N–”

“Do I look like I fucking care?!” you scream and under the pale glow of the streetlight did Jungkook notice the streams of tears cascading down on your pale face. “You just bolted out of your home with no qualms of turning back. What do you want me to do? Wait until you’ve finally really left for good? I can’t fucking do that! You’re my fucking bestfriend, for Christ’s sake!”

Jungkook remains unmoving in his spot and you found this enough of a reason to take a step forward. “Don’t pretend that I don’t fucking know why you’re doing this. Yes, rumors about you and your bad reputation about your constant fights have spread like wildfire in high school. Yes, you’ve hurt your mom even if she’s the only family member who have stuck by your side. And goddamn sure as hell you’ve also hurt me when you figured my weirdness and nerdy-ness is out of place with your pursuit of so-called manliness. You’ve pushed me away, turned blind eye to my bullies, and even joined Lee Taeyong and others in their bullshits. But are they enough to fucking change how I see you? Hell-fucking no! You’re still the shy seven-year-old boy I met when I was four–the one who I took time knowing and befriending through letters pasted under your desk in preschool. You’re still my friend who would do anything it takes to make his mom smile because he loves her so much. Remember the tons of thank you cards you send to her monthly up ’til now?”

Jungkook nods, his huge backpack dropping to the ground, but he doesn’t look up to meet your eyes.

“If that’s not a sign of how much you love your mom, I don’t know what else, Kook. Yes, your father fucked up real bad with your mom, but don’t you dare think you’re anything like him. Yes, you have your flaws, but unlike him, you learn from them and you try your best to right them. You always made it up to your mom whenever you fight. You always told her you’re sorry, you clean the house, try to do better in school. You told Jimin to help me with Taeyong even when you’re far away in the city with your team for your teambuilding camp, remember? And you finally said your apologies from the shits you put me through the second you came back to town.” It was only now did you realize you’re only a couple of steps away from your bestfriend without him running farther away. You sniffle from your sobs, hopes still raised. “I know your mother will forgive you from the things you said which I know you didn’t really mean. I have already forgiven you, Kook, and you know that’s a big deal because you know how bitchy I am when I hold grudges,” your lips try to attempt a smile but you can’t will them to, “So why not give yourself a chance to forgive yourself?” You realize you’ve began sobbing again as you continue, “Remember what I told you in the sandbox when you were seven? That things aren’t really what they appear to be? Tha-that-that they are more than what they seem to be? That shit I made up when I was four is still true until now, you know. I figured that people are more than what they seem to be. Tha-that we can create beautiful things much larger than ourselves–that we can become our own worlds we create for ourselves. And with that,” you look at his eyes for the first time, warm brown and homey like the first time you met him. “You are more than what your flaws make you to be,” your voice flattens in a heavy sigh and you push away your fringe to wipe away your tears.

You raise your arms to encircle around his frame, not fully enclosed enough to keep him to stay in your arms, but not loose enough for him to easily slip away. “I-if you still want to run away, then put down my arms and I assure you I’ll never be in your way again. B-but if you choose to come home with me, you know I’d gladly take you back in my arms again.” You know how volatile your situation is right now–that it’s possible you’ll never see your bestfriend ever again–but you still wanted him to have a choice, to freely believe that he is more than his mistakes and regrets, that he still has so much to become. He’s still unmoving and you close your eyes, unknowingly whispering, “Please stay.”

Seconds do not need to drag too long as the moment your wish fills the empty street, you feel Jungkook immediately engulfing you in a tight hug with his tears wetting the sleeves of your jacket as he continuously mutter “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

"You know I’ve never been those first benchers, Y/N, right?” he chokes on his sobs but he continues, “I never had grades worth to be proud of. I’m just always there–doing whatever insignificant, fucking everyone’s lives, just being a nobody. Trying to prove something I cannot prove from the start. It hurts to know you aren’t good in anything, you know? It pains to know you have no dreams for yourself.”

“But you have,” you interrupt him.

“I have?”

“Yes you do,” you look up at him and hugged him tighter. “People say it’s okay to not have any dreams but I dare to disagree. Not all dreams can be grand, you know. They can be little things like growing up a dog, finishing a day’s work, living ‘til you make it to another day–they’re small things but ironically big. Remember the number systems we studied in Algebra?”

Jungkook huffs. “Yes but why you bringing up Math, Y/N? You know I’m a shithead in that–”

“Shush,” you chuckle, “I know, I know. I’m not good in that either. But do you remember the infinity the numbers held? Thousands and hundreds of numbers can go on and on. Decimals go on and on but they’re much smaller than those thousands–sometimes even insignificant, especially when we’re talking about bucks and dough. However, they also hold an infinity, Jungkook. Small things can have immeasurable value. Small worlds of their own, small universes of their own, they are more than what they appear to be. And knowing you, Kook, I know you want to make your mom happy. That’s more than enough to be a dream. That’s more than enough to be a reason to motivate you to keep living.”

Jungkook nods and he sinks further in your embrace. “But you know I still want to find my passion, Y/N, right?”

“You’ll find it, Jungkook. I know you can. If you need help, I’ll be here by your side.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Thank you so much.”

A moment of silence passes before Jungkook breaks it again. He sighs, “I'm sorry for-for doing all these. It's dumb, I know."

"It is,” you pat his back, “But it’s okay, we’ll get over them eventually. Part of growing up.”

"I'm sorry I've always been a shitty friend. I can't forgive myself for what Taeyong and the others did to you."

"It's okay. You've already apologized and I've long forgiven you."

“I'm sorry I’m not yet someone you could be proud of."

"Don't say that. You know I've always loved you being my friend. It's all I could ever ask for."

"I-I just thought I’m becoming too much like my dad–fucking up mom’s life, fucking up other’s lives, never doing anything right. I’m afraid to be the source of my mom’s sadness again so–so I figured if I left her, she’ll do and feel much better.”

“Do you think she’ll actually feel better if her one and only knight in shining armor leaves her?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No.”

He could feel you smiling against his jacket. “You already know the answer, Kook, so stop comparing yourself with your dad. You’re not fucking up anyone’s lives here.” You pull yourself away to look at him again, “Oh and I’m sorry too for talking too many shits about your dad. It might have been too painful for you.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook pulls you and presses your head against his chest again. “I got over him already. He’s just plain horrible to me. He deserve all those shits.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

Jungkook hums and he feels you flutter your eyes close as you sink again in his embrace. He relishes the feeling of your warmth he has missed for long months. He shifts in his place to have his arms in level with your head and before you could ask what’s wrong, he caresses your hair and whispers against your head, “Can we stay like this for a while? I kinda missed my little peanut otor-nim.”

He could feel your smile grow into a grin. “Of course, Kook. I missed my StarKook, too.”

The last buses have long been gone on the streets, the night much darker than the one in your hometown, but the stars that twinkle above the two of you have never burned this bright. You knew this midnight can easily outshine the million ones you’ve had in your whole lifetime.

In the morning, you and Jungkook went home. He went straight to his mom to ask for forgiveness and he’s never been happier in his life to feel his own voice reverberating again on his end of your metal-can-and-strings phone.

"Hi, Y/N. I-I'm back. Thank you for bringing me home."

The following day, Jungkook finds himself in a green field two blocks away from his home and a football shoved under his nose.

“What’s this?”

“A football.”

Jungkook scoffs. “yeah, no shit, Y/N.” You open your mouth and before you can utter some witty comeback, Jungkook cuts right to the chase. “Why are we here anyway?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, lips tugged into a smirk. “I thought we’re going to find your passion?”

“In here?” Jungkook gawks, “We’re no longer kids to be playing, Y/N.”

“Oh but we, are!” you grin and you start running ahead of him. “You already know my passion is to write, Kook! And when I write, I feel like a child! Children have this thing of knowing what they want. They find it easier to be happy than adults. But remember, we adults have been children before. We only need to really open our hearts to remember what it felt like. We can do paintings tomorrow, miniature sculptures the next day, visit the planetarium on the other day; but for now, let’s do football. It was our favorite game when we were toddlers, remember?” You turn back to him and spread out your arms. “So what do you say, Kook? Play football with me?”

“Fine with me,” Jungkook hollers and he kicks the ball so far he could already see losing your breath running for it. The rustle of the grass felt too new in his ears as the greens bend to the loud crunches of his shoes. He could be running close behind you but he could tell you’re already sporting a large grin growing on your face.

You giggle, nearing the spot where the ball has stopped. “We haven’t set our goalposts yet!”

“Worry about it later! Just worry how you’ll catch up with me with your cute ass legs!”

“You’re really asking for it huh? Here you go!” you kick the ball farther away, but not as far as your bestfriend did–just a couple of five large steps Jungkook knows he can easily make. “Argh! Damn my short legs! Hey, Kook, wait for me!”

Jungkook laughs and before he knew it, you two have become children again getting acquainted in the sandbox where the story of the Star Prince originated. Unheeding to the the noise of the city, to the stares of other people, the both of you let the green field become your own world, your own universe filled with countless wonders of lights and stars just like the utopic Constellatia you created for you and him. However, this time, the stars don’t reside in Constellatia, but in yours and Jungkook’s eyes.

When you went home, he told you he wanted to play football again and for the following weeks, you led him to countless green fields to play with you. It wasn’t until the next month came did he find his passion for the sport. You came home muddy and messy but Jungkook returned with a newfound dream and a song in his heart he never heard before. You don’t need to place your hand flat on his chest for him to know his heart started to tune itself to the melody of your name.

The third time Jungkook was reminded again of the philosophy the four-year-old you have created, it finally had a name. Unknowingly, the things you said no longer involved the universes in general, but instead him and you, and the things he started to feel for you.

“’Microcosm, from the Greek words micros kosmos. To have humankind be regarded as the epitome of the universe’,” Jungkook looks at you, smirking. “Wow, you’re doing real good with our project for our literature class. How come you can easily define these words without using a dictionary? I mean,” he scrambles for his own paper, “look at mine: ‘Microcosm means small cosmos.’ I struggled for like twenty minutes just for this four-worded shit!”

“It sounds fine to me,” you shrug.

“No, not for me. Yours still look the best.”

“I still think yours is okay,” you lay your back down on the mat Jungkook has spread on the grass. “Leonardo da Vinci once said ‘simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.’”

Jungkook chuckles and follows suit, hands supporting his head as a pillow, his eyes set straight towards the night sky.

University ended early today, which granted you and him to spend the rest of your free time biking and chilling. Of course it was Jungkook who did all the biking with you sitting behind him on the makeshift seat he added behind his on his bicycle. You’re still learning how to ride a bike and Jungkook would rather cut his arm than let you on a bike again so soon as the last time you did, you almost crashed into a speeding car. Nevertheless, the night was fun. You had dinner in Mark’s, stopped by an arcade, bought keychains for each other at a street event you passed by (a pink bunny for Jungkook and a blue sleepy cat for you), and now you’re here, stretched out on the mat you packed, staring at the stars while you compare your notes in your class.

Glancing at you, now talking about another piece you’re writing, Jungkook wonders how he’s been too lucky lately. He was able to snag the same class with you in Comparative Literature even if it wasn’t even offered in his program in Computer Science just so he can have one common class with you. Hell, he still can’t believe how he managed to get in this prestigious college with a sports scholarship just so he can be by your side as long as his chances could let him. He first thought it would be pretty weird not to have you by his side when you practically grew up together. However, now, the heat that creeps in his chest, cheeks, and ears that makes his fingers tingly and his feet jumpy whenever he’s with you, he’s no longer sure if his initial reason to study in this college was still the same as the one he now holds in his heart. If there’s proof, it had to be his stubbornness to tell you that he actually just applied in Comparative Literature to see your sappy face (that weirdly started becoming too pretty in his eyes) and the sparkle of your eyes. They said when people talk about their passion and dreams, there’s some otherworldly light and shine you can see in their eyes that makes them glow with so much beauty and God was your beauty utterly astounding when he saw those stars in your eyes in that class for the very first time. He hopes that he also looks that attractive to you when he talks about football even if he’s practically showered in sweat and mud– wait, what–

“Jungkook,” at the sound of your voice, Jungkook whips his head to you, warmth searing in his chest and his ears. You seem unknowing to the thunderous beats in his ribcaged heart as you say, “I…what do you think about sending my story about the Star Prince to a publishing company? I know I just wrote, like, two chapters about him and his adventures, and of course I’m still not sure about them but I think they would be nice enough for a debut work, right?”

Jungkook turns to you on his side. You follow suit and as soon as your gazes interlocked, Jungkook felt the need to look a little bit away from the hazels of your eyes before he stutters on his own words. “I-I think it would be great, Y/N. I mean, the Constellatia was a pretty awesome world and I bet other kids would also like to hear about it just like how I did back then and still do now.”

You shift closer to him and Jungkook gulps. “You sure? You’re not just sucking up to me just because I helped you with our define-it-yourself project?”

“Wh-what are you saying? Of course not. I know you’re good and I’m not lying when I say so.” Jungkook bites the corner of his lips. “When are you sending the copy to the publisher?”

“I’m planning to send the online copy tomorrow and the hardcopy on the other day. It would have been better if I could give them the hardcopy tomorrow, too, so by the time my birthday comes,” you giggle, “I can have their feedback as a surprise birthday present. But I think it would be impossible to do since finding a ride to the city is hard and–

“I’ll drive you tomorrow there.”

“With your bike?” you scrunch your forehead, “won’t it be too hard for you to drive that long with another person adding weight to the back?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what the hell he’s spewing out right now but he feels it’s right to just let them out. “But I want to. So you can have their feedback soon as you said. And you know I can,” he smirks, “I have the Jeon Effect by my side.”

“Oh, fucking stop with that!” you laugh, playfully punching his shoulder, and Jungkook chortles as he makes faces at you. When the hysterics tone down, you brought his attention back, “But no, seriously, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I want to do that.”

True to his word, Jungkook drove you to the publishing company the next day. You submitted your work, your bestfriend treated you in a café (“Early birthday gift so I won’t bother to remember the date again and again–” “Damn you, Kook!” “Just kidding, sappy face!” “Don’t call me that!”), and went back to your dormitories with a smile on your faces and your hearts warm enough to keep you from the cold of the night.

Jungkook believed in mutual exchanges. He believed in order for a relationship– whatever form they are–needs some giving and taking. These instances provide the knowledge of assurance: assurance that the promises uttered will be kept, assurance that you mean good and nothing else, assurance that one is not alone in this connection. Such things are needed because it provides solace to a disturbed mind and soul, like some new batteries for a flashlight stored in the emergency kit. All his life, Jungkook felt it was you who kept on giving and giving in your friendship and he felt guilty for not being able to do anything for you in return. Night upon night, he wishes to his lucky stars to give him at least one shot to let him return the favor and day after day, his wish gets delayed. So when his chance came when the stars aligned in your birthday, Jungkook, for the first time in a long while, didn’t know what to do.

“What do you mean she hasn’t turned up in her night classes?” Jungkok’s voice sounded hoarse and exasperated as the worry wears on him in beady cold sweats on his forehead.

“I told you, man” Jimin says on the other line, “Y/N’s not here. I asked Hoseok hyung and Seokjin hyung who were in her communication class before the one I’m taking with her right now and they also said she was nowhere in sight.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses in his breath and immediately changes his training shoes into the sneakers he wore earlier that day, phone still lodged between his ear and shoulder.

“You alright, man?” He could hear Jimin’s own worried voice on the other end but he can’t will himself to focus on his friend as he crams his training clothes in his gym bag, along with his birthday gift for you.

At the lack of response, Jimin decides to give some assurance. “I will keep looking around for her, too, and I’ll let you know immediately.”

“Thanks, man,” Jungkook manages to mutter and by the time he ends the call, he’s already sprinting away from the football field, leaving Taehyung and his teammates perplexed and shouting for him to come back.

Times like this, Jungkook thanks himself for having enough knowledge about you that you share in bits and chunks that can easily help him in piecing things together. That’s why at the twentieth minute mark of running around the campus, Jungkook isn’t surprised to find you sitting on the abandoned swings of the park behind your dorm you two always frequent. What he didn’t expect to find though were the fat tears running down from your swollen eyes.

Jungkook immediately rushes to your side, falling on his knees in front of you from the sudden skid he did on a downslope but the pain didn’t bother him as he cups your face in his large hands. “He-hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You shake your head, “I-it’s nothing. I-it’s stupid.” You try to tear your gaze away from him to wipe your tears but Jungkook beats you to it when the rough pads of his thumbs wipe them away for you.

“It’s not nothing when you’re crying about it, especially when it’s your birthday.”

At the mention of your birthday, you cry harder and Jungkoook bites his lips as he hugs you, running his hand soothingly on your back, breathing in even breaths for you to follow to calm down. He can wait until you’re ready to talk.

Jungkook remembers why his mother meant when she told him that when he cries, it also breaks her heart. He’s always seen you smiling whenever you’re with him that when he sees you crying, it becomes too painful to bear. It hurts much more when he knows the times he’s seen you cried like this was because of his stupidity and insensitiveness. He closes his eyes to shake those memories away as he hugs you tighter. It’s different now. He swore to himself he’ll never make you cry again.

It takes a few more minutes for you to calm down. When your breathing finally evens out, Jungkook feels you pulling away to look at him. You don’t meet his eyes but the squeeze of your hand on his own reassures him you’re ready to talk.

“The-the manuscript we sent was rejected.”

Jungkook’s eyes widens. “Wha-what?”

“The publishing company thought that my idea of a universe created by one single prince for his princess is ridiculous. The-they said tha-that it would have at least an once of chance of getting published if I didn’t lack so much in my writing skills. I-I really tried my best, Jungkook, and I also expected rejection bu-but I didn’t imagine it will hurt this bad.” You start tearing up again and Jungkook instantly opens his arms to let you fall in his embrace again.

“I-I thought I really had my shot, you know,” you try to stifle your cries in Jungkook’s shoulder, “But you know what, maybe they’re right. I’m not that good, Kook. Not even close.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Jungkook pulls away to look at you. He wipes the fresh tears that have fallen and tucks your fringes that have stuck on your tear-stained cheeks away from your face. “It’s just the first time we tried to send a copy for publishing. And yes, rejection is highly probable but this doesn’t mean you have to stop. It always happens! Look at me! I was rejected in the football tryout in our last year in high school, but did that stop me from continuing football? No. No one can tell me what to do with my life and my dreams, except me. No one can bring down the Jeon Effect, you know?” Jungkook tries a smile and when he sees your lips curve a little, relief slowly creeps to soothe the tightness in his chest. “Not only in football, I was also rejected in the drama club! The people there told me I got no experience with the sound and light controls but did that hindered me from doing just that? No. I tried for another application in the second semester and they got me as a trainee but at least, I’ve got better chances now.” Jungkook rubs his neck, “I know this probably really rubs off on me, like I’m probably the King of Rejections right now, but you get what I mean right?”

You nod and when he sees you wiping your tears with a smile growing on your tired face, Jungkook feels like he could straight up go to paradise.

“Maybe that publishing company isn’t ready for you yet and that’s okay because we will keep trying and working hard, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So don’t cry anymore, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Here, I got you your birthday gift.” Jungkook rummages through his gym bag and before you can have a clear view of what he’s pulled out, you could already feel his gift’s warmth on your chest.

“I knitted you a scarf; scarlet red like your favorite color. I kinda wanted to put more effort in your birthday this year so yeah,” Jungkook finishes the loop around your neck, “I made you this. Hope you like it.”

“This…” you trail off, eyes still in wonder of the fabric, “wow it feels so soft. I can’t imagine you actually made this.”

“Believe me I did,” Jungkook chuckles. “You know you’re the only one who I’ll spend this much effort in making gifts.”

“R-really?”

Jungkook smiles. “Yeah.”

The night dwindles further into midnight yet the two of you didn’t mind. The bitter cries and sobs were now replaced with laughter and wonderful stories. Jungkook told you the first escape from training he did tonight and you told him the classes you skipped classes today for the very first time. Jungkook talked about the gingerbread man story he wants to animate for his class and you brought nostalgia to the both of you as you narrated the story of the Golden Prince and his Rose just like how you first told it to him. All of it have been a blur of solace, happiness, and innocence in Jungkook’s mind. However, Jungkook felt the whole world stop when you looked at him through his eyes and said one sentence that changed everything about you, him, and his feelings for you that don’t seem to be the way they appear.

“I remember the night sky I saw in my childhood whenever I look at you.”

Jungkook stills, throat dry, eyes wide. “I-I-Why?”

You chuckle, “Because you always remind me of everything we’ve been through a-and everything we can be.”

Jungkook slept that night running your words in his head over and over again. The warmth that have constantly resided in his chest ever since you’ve taken him to the green fields have now turned into a widespread wildfire, waking up every nerve in his body and lighting them up as if he is made of every bit of starlight and stardust in the universe.

Jungkook felt the need to lay his palm against his chest to feel id his heart is still actually intact or has it already gone with the wind with his brain cells who kept on singing the syllables of your name. Little did he know, this will just be just the start of his own pursuit to match the gravitational forces of attraction between your universe and his, not as the Golden Prince, but as Jeon Jungkook–your childhood bestfriend and your little prince.

Epilogue

1. Falling in love is similar to the feeling of belongingness. To be in love, is to become a friend.

2. Falling in love needs self-discovery andself-development. To be in love is to love yourself.

3. Falling in love feels like owning a whole other dimension you've never heard of with another person. To be in love is to be brave enough for the fall, all risks and benefits be disregarded.

Jungkook bites the cap of his ballpen. Yeah, this is enough of a storyboard for the animation for his project.

On the table beside his notebook for his major Computer Science and his letter from the Korea Football Association, is a pink envelope with a golden crown. Peering from it is a cream-colored paper with his illustration of your golden prince and a red rose.

"Dear princess,

By now, the sprout I have sent you last year’s Valentines must have bloomed. Sunflowers symbolize longevity of love, adoration, and joy (I researched about this, you know ;D). They’ve always known how to find the light and all throughout my life, I’ve always been motivated by your light and the light of the worlds you created for your readers, for you and me. I know this is getting cheesy but I figured they’re enough to carry the message and the weight of my feeling for you and I hope, these flowers have made you happy.

On the side note, please enjoy this film I created of how I came to love you, just as much as how I enjoyed falling in love with you.

Love from a faraway land,

Jeon Jungkook, your little prince.

P.S. By the time you finish reading this, I’m probably behind you now with a bunch of roses and a cheesy eyecandy outfit trying to ask you out for a date. I hope you say yes”

A/N pt. 2 | HI HONS! I MISSED YOU ALL! I know I’ve been off the site quite for long so I this is my way of making it up to you guys! Lately, I’ve been struggling with writing and when my uni announced a week-long break, all my lucky stars aligned to help me sleep more, write more, and enjoy more. I worked on this fic for like a whole week after weeks of inactivity, so please send me what you think about it! (Seriously, I need this, hons. I need to know if I’ve improved or not. *Lowkey me trying to get some compliments and love too because balancing my life between being a content creator and a uni student can be quite hard and some love can really do wonders for me, you know? Hehe)

Thank you for the support you’ve all been giving me! I love you, hons!

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