#some notes on royal titles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ugh-yoongi · 3 months

Text

hang up if u want to | kmg

he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 3.6k listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball. thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.

Kim Mingyu Missed Call (2)

Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.

You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.

All part of the script.

Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel Kim Mingyu: you up

Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.

We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.

A royal flush, every single time.

And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.

Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me? Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby

You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.

On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.

In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.

In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.

Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.

That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.

The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.

But he’ll never, ever beg.

(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)

Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.

Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.

You: did you like it?

Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.

i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—

Kim Mingyu: or i could show you

It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.

At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.

All you can do is stare.

Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.

Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.

You: what am i looking at? You: new sweatpants?

On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.

Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.

Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄

This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.

You send it.

You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit

Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.

Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.

Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile You: you first

Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.

Your phone chimes, and when you look down—

Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.

All the sounds he makes.

Kim Mingyu: is that better Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted

Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.

You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.

You send it.

You: depends... is this what you wanted?

The response is immediate:

Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.

You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.

So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.

You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.

The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.

Kim Mingyu: goddamn Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me? Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you

You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.

Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side? Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you

In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.

You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.

Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most? Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you

You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.

You: love that too You: love when you’re inside me even more

Kim Mingyu: me too baby Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight Kim Mingyu: ffuck

Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.

You get a singular character in reply: 응.

show me.

He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.

Kim Mingyu Attachment: 1 Movie

On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.

You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.

“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.

“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, “fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”

If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.

“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”

You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.

Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.

Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.

You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”

You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.

“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”

Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself Kim Mingyu: please

It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.

Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.

A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?

Or does he just see you?

It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.

You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.

Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.

Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum

I think about that all the time.

So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.

You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.

You: you can come, but you know the rule

You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.

thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.

The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.

You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.

Because you know what comes next:

Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon Kim Mingyu: can i see you

And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.

if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

#mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #jewel writes

997 notes · View notes

ew-selfish-art · 10 months

Text

Dp x Dc wherein learning magic is similar to learning how to play music.

So basically, the creation of a summoning spell is like a full composition/song made of smaller components or ‘notes’ for things like gravity shifting, and geolocation, and transportation etc. which is why Magic can be taught and spells can be man-made.

Danny, however, is the equivalent of having Perfect Pitch. He can compose entire songs of spells without really thinking about it due to his royal titles (ambassador/king/high prince) but doesn’t really know how to be specific which lands him in some trouble with Clockwork. His portals are coming along a lot better with the help of Wulf but its critical that Danny learns how to control the range of his magic *something something, for the timestream something* *blah blah according to the will of the ancients blah blah*.

So put on the course to learn Magic, Danny decides to hunt down the House of Mystery and study up by himself. He’s doing community college online, what could a little bit of Magic self study really do to his schedule? This place has literally every magic resource he could need!

Turns out he has a roommate in the House of Mystery- John Constantine does not take well to the fact that half of the spells Danny is creating are causing him issues with the JL. Random shit appearing, random shit disappearing, portals everywhere and don’t get him started on the fucking ICE present on every bloody thing the magic reaches. Not to mention there is no reason a normal human kid should be able to have this much power behind his spells.

John attempts to teach Danny the basics like a little kid gets stickers placed on the keys of a piano. The problem is Danny has the ability to compose entire scores of Magic all on his own, and absolutely abhors the training wheels John is putting on him.

Danny: You’re patronizing me!

John: You deserve to be patronized.

Just like, Danny learning Magic in various ways that you might teach kids to play musical instruments from the various Magic users in the JLD. Causing chaos along the way, found family, the whole nine. Stickers on the instruments for notes, taking away guitar strings that are ‘more advanced’ and replaying Twinkle, Twinkle little star over and over again.

Danny can play the Magic equivalent of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake but cannot play Chopsticks.

2K notes · View notes

reallyromealone · 6 days

Text

Title: fate

Fandom: jjk

Characters: Gojo, original character for plot purposes

Fic type: story

Pairings: Gojo x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, angst, soulmate, Gojo is a jerk, slow burn

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

There was no space for weakness amongst sorcerer's, no space for mistakes and no space to be anything less than perfect.

He had always heard of his fiance, Gojo Satoru... The god amongst sorcerer's...

Though he never met the Alpha, the high and mighty sorcerer never bothered meeting the diamond of the (lastname) clan and did everything he wanted and everyone he wanted while (name) was expected to wait.

The only reason they were fiance's is because of stupid blood work, the two having extreme compatibility and thus an engagement... The Alpha apparently became a teacher.

(Name) Always stood out with people, clothes traditional and expensive as students gawked at the Royal looking omega with two S rank sorcerer's beside him as security and a calm yet serious expression on his face, he was rarely called here... Hell he wasn't even allowed to attend due to being the fiance of Gojo, the Alpha barring it.

That always made (name) laugh, couldn't meet his omega even once and downright ignored him but controlled every aspect.

"You will be expected to marry within the next month, you're both 19 and twenty and after the wedding we expect pups within the first year" Gojo sat beside him, legs spread out and sitting casual as if he didn't make them wait an hour for him to arrive. (Name) Didn't know what to do with the Alpha beside him, (name) expected to wear scent patches at all times and a collar but Gojo had his scent out and proud, it was almost suffocating.

The concept of marrying such an asshole... (Name) Didn't want that.

He didn't want to live a life being this fuckers baby machine.

So, a week after... He left.

Took the jewelry gifted to him by people wanting his hand or favor, once people learned who he was it was like floodgates opened and (name) just kept the expensive jewelry in a box... Now they served a purpose.

That was one year ago, now 20 and across the country away from Tokyo and away from... Him.

(Name) Lived in a farm house on a coastal village, trading his traditional clothes for t-shirts and cardigans, simple trousers and sneakers, all things he never wore before living on his own. The two was nice, the Omega had more money than god with the jewels he sold and worked part time at the small hobby shop in town, the elderly alpha woman introducing him to many hobbies.

For the first time, (name) felt calm.

His shoulders never tensed anymore.

But he knew to never eat his guard down.

(Name) Didn't keep much tech, he didn't really use it back in Tokyo so it didn't appeal to him but he did keep a radio and a small tv in the corner, his boss giving him her old dvd player and (name) would borrow movies from the library, catching up on things he missed.

Currently he was watching a drama as he crocheted another blanket for his nest, humming softly to himself as rain patterned outside against his roof and the smell of his food cooking in the oven.

Knock knock knock.

(Name) Was confused as he stood up, walking to the door and carefully he cracked the door open just a sliver when he smelt it... Pine and peppermint. The smell of Gojo Satoru.

"You are a very hard person to find, surprisingly" Gojo said as he pushed the door open, the smell of distress and anxiety filling the small space as the sorcerer walked in "cute place, not what I would have expected from the (last name)s clans little gem" his voice condescending as he looked around at the little decorations and such.

"I'm not going back" (name) hissed as he stepped away whenever Gojo got closer "im not being some daycare for your pups while you go sleep around japan!" Gojo wore his eye mask though even with that he could feel the glare, the man was done with this.

"So you're going to play farm boy here? We both know you're not even remotely cut out for that" Gojo taunted and (name) glared at him "you know nothing about me! I know you never opened that stupid packet about me! I was expected to give everything to you but you couldn't even muster up talking to me! You treated me like I didn't exist!" (Name) Yelled angrily, all the years of anger and resentment boiling over "you don't get to want me now, I don't care if we are fated or whatever! You are a jackass!" (Name) Felt the air knocked out of him as he was pushed against a wall, the infinity making him feel like the other was pressing against him as he realized that gojos mask was no longer present, piercing blue eyes staring down at him.

"Do you think I was happy with the elders deciding that I was going to marry some prissy Omega? That suddenly I was expected to play house with someone I didn't know!" He growled and (name) wasn't backing down despite the pharamones and pressure "you didn't even try and get to know me! You didn't want me!"

"Well I'm here now, aren't I !"

" A little late, don't you think!"

"God you're annoying!"

"Back at you"

This was not the Omega Gojo remembered, the poised and refined Omega who poured tea and wore pretty clothes was replaced by an angry man in comfy clothes and a heated glare and an attitude "we are literally bound by fate and we can't even hold a conversation without arguing" Gojo found the situation weirdly funny as (name) looked at him with a mix of annoyance and disgust as the sound of his timer went off and (name) managed to get away to go take his food out the oven.

Gojo followed the other and looked at the food, it looked really good "you know how to cook?"

"I was literally trained to be the perfect house wife" (name) said bluntly as the sound of a stomach growling caught both of their attention and Gojo looked at the other and (name) sighed "I literally can't make you leave" he hissed as he grabbed another plate.

Dinner was tense as (name) ate, reading his book as he did so as Gojo took the time to inspect his surroundings "it's like an old persons house, do you even have a computer?"

"Don't know how to use one, don't need it" (name) said as he took a bite of his food and Gojo looked surprised at his words "you grew up with cast wealth, how do you not?" He didn't believe it at all as (name) set his book down "an Omega and an alpha live different lives, you were given more freedoms then myself... You got to attend school and make friends and I was raised to be the perfect mate and technology wasn't deemed important to know compared to the art of tea pouring" he said simply as he looked into the others eyes "I have spent this year learning everything i was deprived of, I lived in Tokyo yet I had never seen it outside my escape"

If it was tense before then it was suffocating now, Gojo never considered these things.

He never once considered the life his fiance was living, having always been told he was living the perfect life of luxury and frankly assumed he was some spoiled Omega.

"I would have shown you..." Gojo started, guilt bubbling in him, "oh? You would have spared me time? Between your whores?" (Name) Tilted his head curiously and Gojo felt a headache form "I hear everything you know? From my maids... They always told me I should be lucky that I'm fated to you" (name) looked away and continued eating, book abandoned beside him as the smell of fury radiated from the Omega, Gojo sighing as he took a bite of his food. The food was phenomenal, seasoned perfectly and not one thing not amazing about it but he didn't comment "we can sort these things out when we go home" Gojo said finally, they would get everything in order when they returned home.

"I am home, I have no intentions of going anywhere with you" (name) said stiffly as he stood with an empty plate.

"Well, tough" Gojo said tired as he followed the Omega around the small farm house, cozy and warm "you're my Omega and I'm tired of this"

"Was I your omega when you screwed across the land?" (Name) Glared at him, he didn't care who he was or what strength he possessed... He was tired of everyone making choices for him! "You can go back to whatever life you had before, say I died or something... I know that there's countless omegas dying for a chance to be your fiance"

"Well if you're not going with me, in not going anywhere" Gojo said simply as he walked to the small couch and plopped down "you're like a child" (name) glared, wasn't even like he could go out, the rain so heavy.

"I'm going to bed" (name) grumbled as he went to his bedroom, Gojo getting up to follow but (name) slammed the door in his face.

This was going to be annoying, Gojo could feel it.

Come morning, (name) wore a loose shirt and sweatpants as he made himself his morning drink and stared at his mug sleepily as Gojo watched from the livingroom curiously, the other rubbed his eyes sleepily as calm and sweet pharamones filled the space. Gojo realized that this was the first time he could smell the others pharamones and not smell distress.

He never smelt anything so wonderful.

(Name) Set a mug of tea, brewed perfectly "how did..." "We were both given packets about one another, you pretended I didn't exist remember?"

Gojo had a feeling (name) wasn't going to let go of that anytime soon.

Gojo followed (name) around all day, when the Omega walked down the path towards the village "you really live out in the middle of nowhere" Gojo commented as they walked along the tree lined path, (name) holding a few bags "you know in Tokyo, I could have food delivered to us right?" Gojo remarked and (name) just ignored him, at least the Alpha had the sense to wear sunglasses instead of his mask so he didn't look insane "there's barely a connection out here" the Alpha remarked, (name) knew what he was doing and it wasn't working.

The villagers looked confused as (name) had a towering alpha follow him, the omega shopping as if he wasn't even there "(name)!" A couple kids ran up to the Omega who looked down curiously "what is it little ones?" (Name) Asked softly as the youngest clung to his leg, a little pup with wide eyes and a sweet smile "play with us!" One of the kids said excitedly and (name) smiled "maybe later little ones, I have errands I have to do" (name) ushered the children towards the small park area, Gojo watching the scene curiously.

"So why did you come looking for me? I thought you would have been elated at my sudden leaving" (name) asked as they walked home, Gojo forcing the other to let him hold the bags "my alpha... It practically destroyed half the estate when it found out you left... Geto ripped me a new one"

"So you had an epiphany and came here acting like everything would be fine" (name) said with a sigh and Gojo shrugged "I mean yeah" "and what? Expect me to be like 'oh thank you alpha! You're so kind and didn't make me feel worthless and your actions didn't cause me verbal and emotional abuse from my family!' been going to therapy and the therapist says you suck" (name) was way snarkier than Gojo thought he would be, he liked that his omega wasn't weak "I spent a year being on my own and doing what makes me happy, I don't want you messing that up"

"What do you even do out here?" Gojo asked and (name) shrugged "I have a part time job and I'm an active member of the community, no stress of either of our families... Everything is good"

"What would it take for you to come back?" Gojo asked "money? I can make sure you have everything you need"

"I don't want money, I don't want that stuff... I'm not marrying someone who doesn't love me and I don't love in turn"

Gojo spent the night thinking about it, while his omega slept peacefully in the other room and pulled out his phone to text Geto... He wasn't sure what to do.

#jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoro x reader #Omegaverse #omega male reader #male reader

448 notes · View notes

inky-duchess · 4 months

Text

Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Jewellery

Royal and Noble jewellery is a staple of their life, a statement of the who is person is, their rank and their wealth. Jewellery simply isn't a accessory, it's an exercise in showmanship and a way to link to a past.

(Disclaimer: Many stones in pieces often have a bloody past, usually stolen or worked from the earth under the reign of Colonialism. It is best to always take this into account when admiring real world pieces)

Providence

Jewellery like this is usually inherited buy can also be bought or even given as a gift. There is three kinds of jewellery in this instance: private, owned by the crown or owned by the state.

Private jewellery is owned by a single person and worn or lent at their own descretion. Private jewellery can be no less grand than state owned jewellery. This jewellery can be inherited by anybody the owner chooses.

State jewellery is not privately owned, it belongs to the country itself. It is not inherited but used by royal family. If a royal family is deposed, the jewellery remains with the state. Such as the French Crown Jewels.

Owned by the Crown means that it can only pass monarch to monarch, worn only by consorts or the monarch and lent to anybody they choose.

Noble jewellery is not quite the same. Much of it is owned privately but there may be one or two pieces designated as official jewellery for the title such as a specific tiara.

The Rules

Jewellery like this are not just trinkets to be borrowed by anybody. Usually the monarch (or titled noble) or sometimes the spouse, is in charge of designating who can be lent which pieces and for what occasion. Even if you are a super close member of the family, you still have to take what's on offer. Sometimes certain jewellery is worn exclusively by a certain rank say the Queen or the noble themselves and would not be offered to anybody else. For example, you will note that into today's royalty you will see certain royals repeating the same tiaras such as Kate Middleton who has only worn the Cambridge Lover's Knot, the Strathmore Rose Tiara, the Lotus Tiara and once, the Cartier Halo Tiara. These would be the tiaras available to them, which usually number only a handful. Certain pieces are designated by for the monarch/Consort as well, the Vladimir Tiara & the Girls of Britain and Ireland Tiara only graced the head of the Queen in her reign. Other pieces such as earrings or bracelets would also be distributed accordingly, more elaborate and expensive pieces would be worn by the higher ranking members. Certain collections are meant to be passed on, such as the Consort's jewels but many Dowager refused to pass on their jewels such as Empress Dowager Maria Feodorovna after the death of Tsar Alexander III.

Treasure Trove

Now, just because a family has a throne or a grand title doesn't mean they have caches of jewels. Many noble families sold off their pieces to pay death duties, most only have a few pieces left today. As for tiaras most noble families would not have access to large quantities, usually only affording one or two. The Spencers for example own two, the Spencer Tiara and the Spencer Honeysuckle Tiara. This is an inaccurate protrayal in Downton Abbey, as the family have at least 6 but then again Cora is a Dollar Princess so it could be possible to own as many but it never made sense considering just how many times they almost loose the estate and never sell any off. Royal families are not exempt from this either, some families have vast stores of jewels such as the British Royal Family (I wonder where those all came from...) while the Greek Monarchy (discontinued) has only a few pieces. The Romanov collection is of course legendary and we may never know it's full extent.

#Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble jewellery #Royal jewellery #Noble jewellery #Jewellery #Fantasy Guide #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #writer #writers #Writing resource #Writing research #Writing guide #Writing royalty #Writing royal characters

643 notes · View notes

lordsukunas · 2 months

Text

the thorn in your side.

synop: nobleman!gojo being annoying asf, but he’s also kinda cute?

tags: fem!reader, royal au, gojo is a nobleman, reader is crown princess, reader is a lil mean to him but it’s really just playful banter, slight suggestiveness..? and by slight i mean very slight. not historically accurate (don’t jump me)

note: dk where this came from. prob all of the historical manhwas thats been on my fyp but wtv. uhh this is lowk fun tho, might make more of this if i have motivation!

“princess! i got a favor to ask.”

“ohhhh, princess!”

“hey, princess?”

your eye twitches in irritation. how many questions can one nobleman have in one day? you’ve answered each one with the dignity and grace expected of a future queen, but there’s only so much of that dignity and grace one can have.

you look up from your book, bright cerulean eyes staring down at you. “yes, lord gojo?”

his grin widens, and you have to resist the urge to slap it smooth off of his face. “do you know where i can find those little cookies? y’know, the ones you had at the banquet last week?”

... seriously?! he’s asking you about macaroons?!

“i believe you’re consulting the wrong person about that. perhaps you should ask the head chef.” your voice is strained, as if answering satoru’s questions for the umpteenth time today is making you physically ill.

satoru sighs and leans back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. “yeaaah, but i wanna ask you. since you’re the princess n’ all. unless...”

he tips his chair closer to yours, and his warm breath ghosts across the conch of your ear. tingles dance down your spine and heat creeps up the back of your neck. does he have regard for personal space?

“perhaps our kingdom’s queen-to-be is too dumb to know where macaroons come from?”

you should just ignore him. satoru’s entire purpose, it seems, is to just get on your nerves and force you to lose your well-maintained composure. you know this. and yet...

“i am not dumb, satoru. it is you who’s the idiot, considering you cannot seem to use basic logic to realize their origin,” you snap, words coming out in a hot, angry rush.

you are sick of him testing your patience, sick of his silly little grin and glossy pink lips, and stupid, ugly eyes that always seem to have a twinkle of mischief in them. how dare he speak to you that way? he’s only a nobleman, and you could easily strip him of that title.

a soft chuckle from satoru interrupts your mental tirade. what is he laughing for? is he laughing at you?

“what’s so funny.” you fold your arms over your chest, your brows knitted together.

“oh, nothing. it’s just...” he laughs again. it’s a soft, light sound, quite unlike the usual hearty and loud giggles and barely stifled snickers. yuck. “this is the first time you’ve used my first name, princess.”

ah.

did you really?

your mind replays what you said, and, unsurprisingly, he’s right. you called him satoru, not lord gojo.

the heat now burns your cheeks, and you look away, focusing your gaze on the nearly infinite rows of books in the library. “a mistake. even i make them, but do not think that will be happening again, lord gojo.”

satoru simply hums, drumming thick fingers against the table. “ah, but my name sounds so nice coming from your lips. are you sure it won’t happen again? perhaps in a different, more intimate context?”

how hard would you have to throw a book to get him to finally shut up?

you all but shove yourself out of your seat, tucking your bookmark in between the pages. you smooth out your gown and get rid of invisible specks of dust. “that... will not be happening either. good day, lord gojo. i hope i will you in the future.”

without waiting for what would definitely be some cheeky response, you spin on your heel and exit the library, rushing down the castle’s halls.

why does satoru gojo have to be so infuriating?!

#﹒writing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo #gojo satoru

436 notes · View notes

heartkyeom · 11 months

Text

be sweet

prince!hoshi x princess!reader (svthub garden collab)

word count: 18.7k

warnings: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, modern royalty au, family issues, descriptions of food, unprotected sex

tag list (only svthub members since I’m revamping my tag list): @bitchlessdino @wondernus @idyllic-ghost @strawberryya @junkissed

notes: oh my god I finally have another fic out!! this one was truly a labor of love, thank you to all the svthub members that beta read any part of this story. this fic is for the @svthub garden collab and I am extremely grateful for the network’s help with this story <3 I’m very happy that this aligned with hoshi’s birthday! and a big big thank you to my beloved @wondernus for making this amazing header for me!!! as always, I hope y’all enjoy this and please leave feedback through reblogs !!!! and the title is based off the amazing song be sweet by japanese breakfast, listen along to it if you’d like!

The day’s events shouldn’t have felt so taxing, yet they were. There were only a few meetings you had to sit in on, both not requiring full participation. That sounded easy enough for you to handle, you were used to the rigor of royal meetings for years now.

It was easy enough to brush off any requests with a short comment of approval or neutrality, never expressing a thought of negativity unless the guest was close to your family.

You didn’t pull the princess card very often, especially since your meetings mainly consisted of fellow royals who knew the pressure of the job, but today felt different.

Maybe it was the dull pressure that resided in your head, making it hard to focus on the topics at hand. You curse yourself for not taking some kind of headache relief earlier, but now it has lodged itself in the middle of your brain.

You almost work up the nerve to speak up, but your aide beats you to it.

“Princess,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, “there's an urgent matter. We should leave immediately.” Her hushed tone makes your heart clench.

You could only hope no one in your family was hurt. You silently nod and clear your throat, bringing attention to yourself.

“I’m so sorry, but something urgent came up. I have to go, but please make sure to send me any notes and I’ll be sure to review them before we meet again,” You offer the room a small smile, enough to garner empathetic nods from the room.

You let out a shaky breath and stand from your seat, your aide trailing slightly behind your side as you both exit the room in silence.

“What’s going on?” You ask hesitantly.

“Someone has requested a private meeting with you, they asked to keep their identity a secret. Everyone in the family is okay, don’t worry,” The aide turns her head slightly to make sure she can see your response.

You can’t help but ask about your family first, it’s the only thought you have as the only child.

If someone’s passed on, you’re stepping up to handle the situation, and the emergency plans start to kick into high gear.

Luckily, that nightmare can remain at rest.

“Okay,” you nod slowly, trying to process who could want a private meeting with you.

Is an elder statesman concerned about his country? An estranged family member asking for a favor? It really could be anything or anyone.

You both keep a consistent pace through the cavernous halls of the royal estate, your footsteps echoing loudly with each step. You soon arrive at one of many conference rooms, and you’re surprised to see your aide face her back towards the door, she steps aside to let you walk in.

“I’ll be out here if you need anything, lest it escalates to that point,” She raises her eyebrows at you before looking away. That wasn’t a reassuring sign.

You brace yourself before going inside, but nothing seems to prepare you for who’s waiting.

“Hi, lovely.” Kwon Soonyoung smiles at you in a menacingly sweet kind of way, it makes your blood boil.

He’s dressed much nicer than you’re used to seeing him, he’s the type to wear baggy clothes that swallow him whole. In contrast, today he wears a crisp button-down with black slacks, his suit coat nowhere to be found. His signature designer sneakers are exchanged for loafers instead. There’s no logical reason why he could be here, considering his own busy schedule as a prince.

Soonyoung isn’t flying in for a private conversation just for the hell of it.

“Why are you here?” Your tone is resolute, not allowing for even an inch of resistance.

“That’s what we need to talk about. We’re getting married,” He lifts the corner of his mouth.

You let out a laugh that is nowhere near polite, in fact, you’re nearly cackling at the prospect of this idea. It’s simply so outlandish, so fantastical that every time you look at his face it seems more unfathomable.

Most princesses knew to let each other know that if they were charmed by him, Soonyoung was ultimately not marriage material. If anything, he was determined to make himself the least suitable husband possible.

He was the typical sweet boy turned party animal, spending most nights abroad drinking his days away with a new girl in his bed every night. He does show up to the occasional political obligation, but only when his team forces him to. That’s one reason why he bothers you so much, he has such little duty to his native country of Aranorin and the people in it that everyone else has to make him care about it.

“You’re joking, there’s no fucking way,” Your body vibrates from laughter, but you slowly come to your senses once you see he’s not cracking another joke.

“I’m not joking, I’m here to start our courtship.” His serious tone makes you start to consider the gravity of the situation.

“Hold on, so you think you can just come into Maritria, coming from god knows where,” You make a broad gesture toward him before continuing, “to formally start our relationship. That’s what you’re saying,” You cross your arms, returning to your originally defensive stance.

“Yes, this isn’t just coming out of thin air. This has been in the works for a few months now,” He raises his eyebrows to punctuate the timeline. It just makes you even more confused. Why wouldn’t anyone tell you about this?

“What do you mean?” You question.

He braces himself one last time. “I’ve been speaking to the king and queen about arranging our marriage for two months,” You almost think his face goes slightly sympathetic at his admission, but that’s wishful thinking.

Regardless, it’s a blow to your ego.

How could they not tell you? How could they so easily shift the responsibility onto him without saying a word?

It would be one thing if they were still considering other men, but to know the talks were final, that Kwon Soonyoung was your future husband whether you liked it or not, was a devastating realization.

“This is unbelievable.” You let out a shaky whisper, you’re so rattled that you force yourself to sit down and close your eyes, willing yourself to take a deep breath.

You open your eyes to see him hovering near you, clearly a stifled attempt to try and comfort you. Yet, he’s the least comforting person you’ve ever known.

“I don’t want to do this either. You’re definitely not my first choice for a wife.” He scoffs at the possibility that he could ever choose you without incentive.

“Yeah, clearly. You’d rather want a girl who would kiss your ass every day instead of being honest with you.” You retort.

The gossip that flitted between young royals all but confirmed your suspicion that he dumped any girl that tried to make a long-term connection with him. It was fine if he didn’t want to get married. Not all royals are meant for it, and he didn’t have as much pressure to marry off as the youngest child. He could get away with being a lifetime bachelor, but choosing that lifestyle wasn’t worth hurting other people in the process.

“Aw, is lifetime celibacy boring you that much to the point where you’re worried about the girls I sleep with?” He cracks a smile that you match with a forced laugh.

“No, I just think you dump them as soon as they realize how small your dick is.” You smile through your response, causing him to form his arms together.

“You’re so lucky now that we’re together, you can finally stop waiting for those nice guys who don’t have a personality to sweep you up,” His condescending tone makes you frustrated but not deterred from bantering completely.

“So I can end up dating one of your dickhead friends instead? Absolutely not,” You shake your head knowing how insufferable most of his friends are. Soonyoung just happened to be the worst of them.

“All jokes aside, I know you’re perfectly aware of why we’re getting married. I don’t have to look at the news to know things are bleak,” His straightforward approach forces you to swallow the lump in your throat.

You knew the country’s finances were not great.

You didn’t want or need to see the exact numbers, especially if it makes your day-to-day duties labored with worry. Although many political teams insist that princesses have no business in the logistical affairs of running a country, it meant everything to you to know how your country was faring in the world. Maritria already maintained a longstanding connection with Aranorin that gave your country some freedom to pursue other lucrative opportunities, but it dawned on you that it wasn’t enough.

“I’m doing this for my country, not out of some pathetic excuse you may have to avoid self-reflection. You can just get married to me and stop pretending to be a good person, right?” You ask bitingly.

“We both know I stopped pretending a long time ago. Marrying the nation’s sweetheart is just a bonus,” He smirks unapologetically, you don’t like the way the nickname sits on his tongue as if it’s his own.

“Is there anything else you want? I need to get back to work,” You stand up from your seat, trying not to look back at the door while you plot your escape. It was hard enough not to completely explode at him, and you needed to redirect your energy elsewhere.

“There is, I got you something,” He retrieves a small velvet box from his pocket. “It’s not an engagement ring, but just consider it a courtship gift.”

You open the box and lightly examine the ring. You know it’s far too expensive than most of the jewelry you’ve ever worn. Your family was wealthy, but Soonyoung’s family had the kind of money that you didn’t need to plan so carefully around. However, you don’t want to seem so easily impressed.

“It’s fine. When are you planning on proposing?” You brush him off easily.

“That ruins the surprise.” He smiles at you yet your face remains stoic.

“I’ll get your number from someone else, I don’t want to drag this out anymore.” You stuff the box in your dress pocket and start to make your way toward the exit.

“It’s been horrible to see you again, Your Royal Highness.” His stiffly formal greeting makes you turn around to face him.

You squint your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“The Royal Highness thing,” You point at yourself before continuing, “I’m not gonna say Your Royal Highness every time we’re in private. Don’t start giving a shit now.”

“Fine. Bye, darling.” He quips.

Your face contorts into disgust before you can stop yourself. “You’re not gonna make that my mandated wife nickname.”

“You don’t get to choose the nickname I give you, honey.” He approaches you and pinches your cheek before speaking, “Besides, it’ll be fun to try to figure out how to mask my hate for you in public.”

You cringe at his touches, but you straighten up immediately.

“Likewise,” You offer a tight-lipped smile before finally leaving the room.

You close the door behind you and take the breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Can you clear my schedule for the rest of the day? I need time to deal with this,” You finally look at your aide with an expectant glance.

“Yes, of course, princess.” She immediately grabs her phone to send notices to those involved. You can’t even remember who you were meant to see for the rest of the day. Your mind simply wanders to your parents, the next targets of your rage.

“I’m gonna go home. I don’t want to see anyone unless it’s my parents. Or him, not that I want him around anyways,” You roll your eyes at the thought of having to voluntarily communicate with him on a regular basis.

“Sounds good. I have his phone number, if you’d like it.” She offers.

“Ok,” You agree and quickly input his phone number. As you type in a contact name, you’re not sure what to call him.

Soonyoung is far too casual, it doesn’t feel comfortable yet. You’re absolutely not calling him by his title, not by a long shot.

The romantic pet names similar to the ones he used with you were not earned, so it left you stumped.

You settle on “headache,” because the ache in your temple is still there, bothering you immensely and now he’s adding to it.

You’re just lucky that you didn’t end up shouting at each other this time.

—

As if they could read your mind, your parents call you in for an emergency meeting before you can make it home. That pent-up rage is starting to make its way out before you even see them, it shows in the way you stomp to your father’s main office, marching far ahead of your aide.

You open the door without knocking, a major sign that you’re not looking forward to the discussion.

Your father gives you a warning look, but you’re not bothered by it. The staff turns their attention toward your bold entrance, immediately preparing themselves to leave.

Your father is sitting in his velvet study chair, poised as always. Your mother stands behind your father, idly leaning her weight against the back wall.

Her demeanor is not as composed, as if she knows you’re about to raise hell.

“We’d like a private meeting, thank you,” He gives a pained smile to the staff and they all file out silently. You watch them with a fiery gaze, waiting for the last person to close the door behind you.

When the door finally shuts, you whip your gaze to face them again.

“Soonyoung? Are you kidding me?” You exclaim.

“Y/N, please,” Your mother tries to intercept, but you’re faster than that.

“Actually, I’d like to know exactly why I was left out of the conversation about me having an arranged marriage, to begin with,” You cross your arms and lean back in your chair, preparing yourself for a bullshit excuse.

“Well, we were anticipating this kind of reaction,” he gestures at you in disapproval, “you weren’t meant to be involved in these discussions in the first place.” He speaks to you so patronizingly that it almost catches you off guard.

“So you can just decide that I’m getting married on a whim, just like that.” You snap your fingers impatiently.

“You know how the country is currently faring, you knew marriage could possibly be an option for financial security almost a year ago. Please don’t act like this is some affront to you,” Your father slowly raises his voice, fists slowly clenching as he elaborates.

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me things were this bad. You didn’t tell me that you had tried everything else. Hell, you didn’t even tell me that you were starting discussions about marriage!” You were trying your best to keep your voice even, but the defeat was starting to show through.

“We ultimately thought leaving you in the dark was best, but we miscalculated.” Your mother tries to cover for your father’s stern approach. You scoff, turning away for a moment before continuing.

Miscalculated is an understatement. You were devastated.

Your father seems to be annoyed that you were showing this much emotion while your mother seems ashamed that the situation has escalated this far. Their conflicting expressions just made you feel even worse, knowing that they couldn’t act as a united front. You wished that it was either complete anger or support from both of them.

“Soonyoung. You can’t possibly tell me he was the only option,” You turn back to them with glossy eyes.

“Sweetheart, you know Arinorin is one of our most important allies. Soonyoung would have always been an option. Even if there were better options, we couldn’t ignore him.” Her comforting tone does little to comfort you at the moment.

A tear finally falls onto your cheek. Her words hurt because she was right. Even if there was a perfect prince waiting for you out there, he wasn’t the prince of Arinorin.

“He hates me, you don’t see how much he hates me.” You shake your head and cover your face with your hands. You’re fully sobbing into your hands and it leaves your parents speechless. You know they’re looking at you with full judgment, but it didn’t matter.

“You’re giving your only daughter away to a man who despises her.” You seethe through your tears.

“He hasn’t given us any reason not to trust him.” Your father speaks up again and it breaks you down even further. He has that immovable stare on his face that signals his word is final.

You compose yourself before speaking again.

“When we get a divorce, it’ll be your fault.” You lift your hand to your cheeks, wiping away any stray tears left on your face.

“You’re being ridiculous, you’re saying that you won’t even try for your country?” Your father shifts in his seat, it seems like he wants to jump up and fully lecture you but it won’t happen.

You finally snap. “I have tried for this country! Every day, I have shown both of you what I’m capable of as a future queen, not asking you for anything. Now, the one part of my life where I should have control, choosing the person I’m married to, I have none.” By the time you finish speaking, your tears are gone by sheer will. Your eyes burn with the familiar sting of fatigue mixed with anger bubbling over the surface.

“I’m sorry, dear.” You see your mother wipe a tear of her own. You were grateful that she saw through you, at least at this moment. It was a quiet show of support that you needed amongst all these difficult feelings.

You put your head in your hands for a moment before looking up at them. “I’m going home and someone will send me the things I need to wrap my head around this entire situation.” Your tone is far more measured compared to before.

Before you can hurt your own feelings by hearing them out, you decide to make your exit. You’re nearly out of the door before you turn around again, letting go of the doorknob.

“I’ll always remember that he told me first instead of you.” With that, you leave without looking back at their expressions.

Hopefully, it’ll hurt like hell for them to hear it.

You ignore the staff members that were peering near the door, eagerly waiting to see who would break first. You’re sure that it looks dramatic, but you were far too concerned with your own feelings before anyone else’s.

—

Once you made it home, you were attempting to forget the stress of the day and it was going relatively well. You were able to catch up on a TV show you’d been forgetting to watch, and finally remembering to do self-care tasks that were left unattended due to your work.

Now, you’re taking a bubble bath with no intention of opening your eyes anytime soon. You needed to just sit, you didn’t have much time to do that most days.

The water is still fairly hot, enough to where you can sink down and continue to salvage any remaining calmness you might’ve had left.

Thus, your vibrating phone didn’t exactly make you feel at ease. You hope that it wasn’t one of your parents, considering your conversation didn’t have a clean finish. Any of their apologies would be falling on stubborn ears.

You glance at your lock screen and if anything, it’s worse.

It’s him. You pick up the phone with an anxious hand and press the accept button.

“What do you want?” You snap at him.

“You actually picked up!” He notes with a hint of surprise.

“Trust me, I didn’t want to.” You shift uncomfortably in the bathtub, the sloshing water calling you out immediately.

“Is that water? What are you doing?” His curious nature already annoys you, so it’ll be easier to dodge the question.

“None of your business.” Your free hand cups the remaining bubbles in the bath.

“Oh my god, is the princess naked on the phone with me?” He sounds far too pleased with himself. You can practically hear his shit-eating grin in the way he replies.

“You’re a horny little freak who hasn’t told me why he’s called yet.” You force yourself to sit up now that the relaxation in your body is quickly dissipating.

“Right. We’re doing intimacy coordination tomorrow. I figured you didn’t look at that schedule they gave you.”

“Shit.” You sigh just out of earshot.

Intimacy coordination isn’t common at all with arranged royal marriages. If a couple looked like they had never met before in their life, it was typically on them for not being more convincing. Yet, the number of public events you two have to be involved in over the foreseeable future warranted different circumstances. If you couldn’t look head over heels for each other at the wedding, it was going to spell trouble for both countries.

“I’m only in town until tomorrow night, so I don’t have to look at your face for much longer than that,” You sigh at his response, knowing that he’s not one to hold back with you.

“I wish you could leave sooner, maybe I could actually enjoy not seeing you even more than I already do.” You reach to open the drain.

“Just practicing my future husband duties by stressing you out, love,” You can practically hear his smile through the phone.

“That one isn’t bad, actually,” Your thoughts trail off once you hear it, but he brings you back to reality almost immediately.

“So that’s definitely not what I’m gonna call you.”

“I’m hanging up.” Your waning patience with him has officially run out and you’re itching to move on with your night.

“Bye, honey!” He’s laughing uncontrollably through the response and it makes your blood boil. It’s clear that this is already a joke to him.

“Fuck off,” You hang up before you have to listen to his laughter any longer. You put your head in your hands and let out a muffled scream.

He already wanted to make this courtship as excruciating as possible.

You finally stand up from the bath and wrap a warm towel around your body, staring at your reflection in the mirror.

Luckily, your parents did listen to your request and a massive document of schedules and timelines of your relationship with Soonyoung appeared in your email inbox.

You had only skimmed the schedule before Soonyoung called you, you stopped looking at it before it stressed you out beyond repair.

According to the timeline your parents created in accordance with his team, you were supposed to have been dating for 11 months at this point.

You can’t possibly imagine putting up a front for 11 months, but then again, you would have to pretend for the rest of your life.

That thought haunts you through the rest of your night routine.

How do you carve your life around Soonyoung when he’s creeping his way into everything?

How do you find peace when you’re with someone who’s determined to misunderstand you?

These questions have you wiping your tears as you attempt to fall asleep that night.

—

To your dismay, the intimacy training was first thing in the morning.

You were barely conscious, but somehow you arrived early with a slightly cloudy mentality and an overall dread for the next 2 hours.

You were the first of the three, besides your personal staff members, to arrive at the dance studio. You figured the space was far too big for what you were working through today, but you forego criticism to admire the room.

Admittedly, you didn’t go into many of the creative spaces throughout the palace because you weren’t a creative type. The arts were simply something you admired from afar, you didn’t have the talent even as a child to pursue these things seriously.

This apparently needed to be remedied as you notice the sweeping mirrors around the perimeter of the room. The hardwood floors were practically shining underneath your feet. You’re sure that whoever used the room was sure to enjoy themselves.

You’re admiring yourself in the mirror when you catch Soonyoung entering the room. He quietly greets the staff, giving short bows to everyone in sight.

It’s the only time you’ve seen him act with a royal demeanor, even in his casual workout clothes it’s a bit surprising to see him this way.

He makes his way over to you with a smile on his face.

“You’re early.” He eyes you up and down.

“Unfortunately, yes. You look.. comfortable.” You don’t mean to raise your voice up another octave, but you were just barely attempting niceties.

“So do you, you actually don’t look like you're trying too hard for once.” He leans against the mirror and gives you another judgmental look.

“It’s far too early in the morning to play this game, Kwon Soonyoung. Don’t get your feelings hurt.” You close your eyes before you get too angry, a slight change of pace from your typical interactions with him.

“It’s fine. I’m sure you’ll be more awkward considering you’ve only had two boyfriends, one who looked like he was your son.” He stifled a giggle.

“Chan was so sweet.” You pouted at the thought of your teenage boyfriend. He really was kind, probably the perfect first boyfriend that you could ask for. You remember how much he cried when you broke up with him. You just weren’t the same person you were when you started dating him at 16, so you needed the space to grow apart.

Unfortunately, Soonyoung was right about the mom thing.

“It’s not my fault I had a growth spurt and the stylists kept dressing me like a divorce lawyer.” You insisted.

You recalled how harsh the style blogs were on you back then, many claimed that you’d never find your own personal style as long as other people kept dressing you older than you actually were. Unfortunately, they were also right. You live and learn though.

However, you didn’t even want to think about your second boyfriend.

“I’m just saying good chemistry doesn’t come naturally to all of us, it’s okay to ask for help.” His faux concern was especially irritating.

You weren’t that awkward with men, were you?

You didn’t have much time to consider an answer before a young woman walked into the studio.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you both! My name is Elise and I’ll be leading you both through training today.” She offers her hand out to you for a handshake and you accept with a smile. She does the same to Soonyoung and moves toward the mirror.

“So, how long have you known each other?” She dives right into discussions with the question.

“Around 15 years or so?” The number that came out of your mouth was definitely a rough estimate, but it sounded about right.

You vaguely remember being introduced to Soonyoung and his older siblings at a fancy state dinner as a child. He was far less mischievous then, a bit timid around everyone except his family. Since then, you’ve ran into each other regularly due to the relationship between your parents. They were far closer to each other than you were with him and his siblings, so the situation feels a bit ironic now.

“Okay, but I’m assuming you haven’t been in contact very often?” She clarifies.

“Not at all.” He chimes in.

“Right, so we’ve got our work cut out for us then. Today isn’t gonna be too complicated, you’re just gonna be trying some physical activities to see how natural that looks.” Elise smiles in order to lighten the mood, but you’re certain it won’t work out.

“So, what are we gonna practice, hugging?” He scoffs, and you’re certain that he thinks this is all bullshit. You weren’t happy about it either, but keeping up appearances was the most important part of this.

“Yes, I know that sounds weird, but I promise it’ll pay off,” Elise continues to offer reassuring statements, but he’s not convinced and frankly, neither are you. You exchange a glance with him and decide to take the lead as the awkwardness continues to sit in the air.

“So where should we start?” You ask out of a mix of curiosity and dread.

“Let’s just have you both hold hands.”

Soonyoung extends a hand out to you with a smirk on his face. You’d rather slap him, but you’d think it would leave Elise traumatized.

You take his hand a bit too forcefully and adjust yourself within his hold. By glancing at the two of you in the mirror, you notice two things.

First, his hands are warm, a bit too warm for this moment.

Secondly, his thumb is absentmindedly brushing against the back of your hand. You can’t call attention to it or else it’ll stop, and you decide in the moment that it’s too relaxing. He probably doesn’t even notice that he’s doing something so romantic, that little bastard.

“Okay, so how does that feel?” Elise asks.

“Fine.” The reply forces itself out of your mouth.

“It’s fine.” He agrees with a nod of his head. He also peers at the both of you in the mirror with a slight curiosity, his head tilting slightly.

“We do look good together, though.” He murmurs to himself. You’re not sure if it’s the arrogance peeking through and he only believes you look good while he’s with you, but maybe for a second, you can see what he’s talking about.

“Good, and what’s a small physical gesture you can do to make each other feel at ease?” Elise’s question causes you to look up at him.

This feels unnecessary since Soonyoung is not a nervous person. No matter what, his particularly frustrating charm and gregarious personality never allow any anxiety to show to others.

“I can just do this.” He calls attention to the thumb thing and that puts you on the spot.

He seems incapable of needing comfort. It’s one of the things that keeps a silent distance between the two of you. You believe that he remains emotionally stunted in order to navigate his world a bit easier.

He can let the girls who want something more from him down easy, and they don’t realize how bad it really felt to be pushed away until they never see him again.

You didn’t want to end up in that position.

“I don’t know.” You let your mind wander for a moment.

Yet, he was bold. He was always decisive in what he wanted, never caring about what his actions made him look like if it was for better or worse.

You figured that you should be bold too.

You intertwine your fingers deeper into his grasp and pull his hand to your lips, leaving a small peck on the back of his hand.

His eyes widened immediately. “That’s quite forward, princess.”

“I needed to one-up you,” You answer nonchalantly, but you don’t miss the slight spark in his eyes. It was unexpected, and you were always going by the book.

Elise ignores your conversation and continues her questioning. “So I assume you both will be interested in PDA?”

“To a certain extent, I don't see why not.” You pull back slightly into your reserved nature, but he runs with it.

“Yes, we’re supposed to be a more open and progressive couple to represent a new generation of royals, so it would be nice to be a bit bolder,” He nods decisively along with his response.

You didn’t really think about the relationship like that until he mentioned it. While you were attuned to a certain sense of responsibility as the singular face of your country’s new generation of leadership, it was known that you fought back against regressive norms brought up in your daily work.

Why not lean into something new when the image of your respective countries so desperately needed a refresh?

“That’s good to know. I know you both have different styles, but I think there are ways we can meet in the middle here.” Elise notes.

That statement proves to be true for the rest of your session. Elise leads you both through hugging and slightly provocative gestures that make you want to crawl out of your skin, but you both fumble your way through it.

Soonyoung seems insistent on embarrassing you with more revealing gestures while yours are relatively contained. He’s being a bit too playful for your liking, but it helps you understand his personality a bit more.

You decide that you want a moment to speak with him before he flies back home later that evening, excusing Elise and the remaining staff to leave you both in the studio.

“When do we see each other again?” You ask.

“You’re a bit too eager, aren’t you darling?” He smirks at you, and you lose the slight bit of faith you had instilled in him before.

“Shut up, I’m just trying to remember this stupid schedule.” You grumble. You resort to pulling out your phone instead, quickly finding the most up-to-date iteration of the relationship timeline in your email inbox.

“I’ll be in Arinorin in a few weeks to meet your parents,” Your brain works through the schedule quickly, scanning the information fast enough to say it out loud.

“Oh shit.” He mutters under his breath.

Oh shit was right. You haven’t had a proper conversation with the king and queen since you were a teenager. It was typical family friend fare, asking how your studies were going, if your hobbies were still things you enjoyed and a faint interest in any other topics that you happened to bring up.

Since then, there were only brief interactions in passing that were fairly positive. They must’ve thought quite well of you if they agreed to have their youngest son marry you, but that was something you’d have to inquire about with them.

“And to go on a date with you,” You mumbled.

That’s what really rattled you. It wouldn’t be real until no one else was around to direct and stage your romance, it was up to the both of you to make it happen.

“Right, I’ll get to choose what we get up to.” You can tell that his brain is creating a vision that will be less than satisfactory, and you can’t fight the urge to attempt to gain control.

“We aren’t going on your yacht, are we? I think you’ve broken enough hearts there.” You tease him.

“Very funny, and no, we’re not going on the boat… anymore.” He admits with an eye roll.

“See! I knew you were gonna take me there!” You interject, letting out the laugh that had been sitting in your chest for a minute or so.

“I’m never anybody’s boyfriend, cut me some slack,” He says it as if it’d get him off the hook for being mentally checked out during this process.

That much was obvious from the lack of planning, but you’d have to give him some space to try and impress you.

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear. I know long-term planning isn’t your strength.” You bite back and he brushes it off easily.

“Get all your jokes out now, but I’m gonna impress you. Mark my words,” He points at you while heading towards the door.

“We’ll see about that, loverboy,” You check your phone absentmindedly while he sees himself out.

“Is that my nickname?” He pokes his head back into the door with an excited tone.

“Bye, Soonyoung,” You grit your teeth into a smile and watch him reluctantly leave the room.

You can only hope your future in-laws aren’t as insufferable as him.

—

A few weeks later, the trip to Arinorin has arrived and all of its possible consequences are driving you up a wall. The culmination of meeting with your future in-laws, the date with Soonyoung, and the idea of being perceived as his partner outside of your home country are all slightly nauseating.

At first, it was just fun and games, but now, as the plane lands, the tension settles beneath your skin. Soonyoung was supposed to be picking you up, but you didn’t have much faith in that happening.

You barely remembered to grab the ring he gifted you so you could wear it while you were in town, simply as a reminder that this was all happening.

You exit the plane with your luggage in tow, only for Soonyoung to be waiting on the tarmac. He’s accompanied by a large black SUV that is clearly not his personal car, but his stance is trying to convince you that it is.

“Hi, princess.” He calls out with a wave of his hand.

“When are you gonna actually call me by my name?” You approach him with squinted eyes, your vision steadily adjusting to the early afternoon sun.

“When this feels less awkward, so give or take a few years,” He jokes.

“Not funny,” You gesture to him to take your luggage, and he catches the hint once you look at him again. You don’t want to shoulder smaller tasks onto his staff, you wanted to see how he would handle these things instead.

“How was the flight?” He calls out to you again, you hear the trunk slam shut and he comes into view again to anticipate your answer.

“It was alright, I’m just tired.” You rub at your temples to punctuate the feeling.

“Hopefully your room will be good enough,” He sounds somewhat considerate while opening the door for you. It feels wrong.

You slide into the back row with him following behind you. He shuts the door and his driver promptly begins the drive to the palace.

“Are you nervous about the trip? My parents aren’t exactly as kind as yours,” Soonyoung chuckles.

You let out a deep sigh. You wouldn’t call them kind considering the circumstances, in fact, you’re barely on speaking terms with them outside of public obligations.

Was it petty? Yes.

Was it also justified? Yes.

You figured that icing them out for a while would help them come to their senses. If worst comes to worst, maybe it could help you gain further control over the wedding.

Nevertheless, you were still upset with them.

“They’re really not that great, and I’d say that I’m pretty good with parents,” You avoid his glance to look out the window instead, taking in the sights of the country.

You don’t have many memories of Arinorin. Many of them were informed by meetings that you couldn’t even remember anymore.

“You’re right. The nation’s sweetheart can charm anyone. Plus it’ll give me time to think about what we’re gonna do on the date,” He affirms with a nod of his head.

“God, don’t remind me. If I’m lucky, we’ll be meeting at a strip club.” You roll your eyes.

“You really have no faith in me!” He pouts. You don’t give into him though.

“It's hard enough just being in a car with you.”

—

Soonyoung doesn’t ever have to think about first dates.

In fact, he doesn’t think he’s been on a proper first date since he was a teenager. Even then, it was low stakes. He could just pick something random for him and another girl to do, and it would be completely inconsequential to his life.

Now, impressing his future wife with an incredible first date feels monumental. He barely knew anything about you besides that goody two shoes personality of yours. It seemed like everyone was suddenly obsessed with you and he was the last to know.

He decides that a midday picnic is inoffensive enough for the both of you to enjoy. If either of you were miserable with each other, there would at least be good food to distract from it. The sunny weather was already on his side, now he just had to charm you.

You waved slightly as you approached his picnic blanket, stopping before your feet could cover the edge of the blanket.

“Wow, this is a lot,” Your eyes landed on the assortment of food spread across the blanket. There was a spread of fruit, snacks, and sandwiches for the two of you to eat together. Soonyoung knew he didn’t completely fuck up by the way you nodded, but you weren’t exactly jumping to praise him in general.

“I don’t get a hello?” He attempts a greeting but it falls flat.

You roll your eyes. “Hi, Soonyoung,” You state halfheartedly, crossing your arms in protest.

“Hi. Does the food look alright?” He takes off his sunglasses and fixes his gaze on you.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be inept at setting up a date, so it’s surpassed my expectations already,” You give him a tight-lipped smile before sitting on the blanket. He attempts to ignore the way your dress hikes up slightly to expose your thigh. The sundress that you’re wearing seems to expose every detail of your body that he’s neglected to look at, but he snaps back into focus when he hears you clear your throat.

Once you both start eating, it’s clear how little you have in common with each other. Sure, he figured it’d be a little difficult to get to know you, but the lingering silence doesn’t exactly make him eager to strike up a conversation.

“How do you feel about all this?” You ask suddenly. It catches him so off guard that he chokes on the piece of fruit he was chewing.

He coughs, raising the attention of the nearby guards. You turn to them, giving a signal that he’s okay before turning around. “Damn, I didn’t think the question was that bad,” You laugh sadly.

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t expect it.” He waves off any suspicion.

He takes a deep breath. “I mean, I’m not thrilled. I know the economic aspect of this is the most important thing, but my parents are practically dying to marry me off,” He reaches for a bottle of wine, grabbing a nearby glass before pouring himself something to drink.

“So I’m not the first?” You ask.

“Absolutely not,” He snickers. This relationship would mark the 5th time his parents have tried to set him up with a fellow royal. He has managed to sabotage all previous attempts on account of pissing his parents off.

The girls they set him up with were nice enough, but he had no chemistry with any of them. He felt like sparing them from a relationship full of misery by ruining it before it even started.

“So your parents figured you wouldn’t want to escape a marriage instead of just dating?” You attempt to clarify.

“Bingo,” He sips his wine before handing you the bottle.

“So, does that mean you’re gonna try to escape this?” You accept it and pour yourself a fuller glass, immediately taking a sip after asking the question.

“I think you’d be pretty fucked if I tried to do that. I’m not that much of an asshole,” He shakes his head and laughs it off. Since being hated by his parents was bad enough, Soonyoung didn’t want to become the center of an emerging geopolitical crisis.

It would fuck everyone over, especially you. He could at least admit to himself that you didn’t deserve that.

“That’s nice, I guess,” You smile halfheartedly at him.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” He speaks in an unusually flat tone before turning away to face the view of sprawling hills and seemingly endless mountaintops. The sight of the burgeoning nature surrounding the houses below him brought a sense of peace.

Before you asked, he hadn't given the entire arranged marriage process much thought. Sure, he knew that you’d be getting married relatively soon, but he had no idea how to present himself as a good partner. He didn’t exactly know how to move forward knowing that everyone expected him to fail.

“You really are a dickhead,” You mumble.

“You’re not exactly sweet as pie either. Everyone loves you, but you’re fucking miserable to be around.” He responds in a piercing tone.

“Well, if you get to be a cunt, then so should I. It’s not like I’m getting anything out of this,” You shoot back.

You were definitely worse off as an only child. Sure, he was the black sheep of the family, but he could get away with plenty of things as the youngest. His siblings were off impressing the world by ruling the country, getting PhDs, having a shit ton of kids, and generally being upstanding citizens.

However, it didn’t make sense for him to try that hard.

“Your country’s finances won’t go to shit, isn’t that enough?”

His question seems to bring out another layer of frustration for you. “No, I want a husband who gives two shits about me past my bra size, but apparently that’s wishful thinking,” You angrily bite into a strawberry and turn away from him.

“Look, we don’t have to do anything except pretend that we’re in love. So, let’s not do anything past that. Alright?” He proposes. Your face is unreadable, but the way you chew on the inside of your lip shows that he’d never get to know what’s eating away at you.

“Alright,” Your body language seems to retreat completely.

The mood of the date is different after that, and his request seems to render you both silent as you eat the rest of the food without interacting. The view of the countryside makes him wish that he didn’t have to deal with any of this, just live in a tiny house where no one had to remind him about his impending marriage.

—

The entire day leading up to the Youth Summit Ball left you feeling incredibly rattled.

You know the staff is perfectly capable of executing your vision for the ball as they've done year after year. It was one of your signature events as a royal, and its annual presence in Maritria brought much-needed attention to the country with the presence of young royals and its ever-popular red carpet.

Tonight, however, would be the first time Soonyoung is escorting you as a “longtime” boyfriend in public. You’ve been seen together in public, yes, but this is a public declaration that you are hypothetically in love with him. As a co-chair of the event, nothing could go wrong since many of your peers would be attending with their families.

Nothing could go wrong, thus you needed him to know the extent of your anxiety.

You heard a knock on the door, and you’re accepting them inside without a second thought.

“You wanted to see me?” He asks as he steps inside the dressing room.

You’re thrown by how handsome he looks. You argued with each other over text about what he should wear, he insisted that it didn’t matter. Yet, your color palettes were not to be betrayed. You internally thank yourself for persisting with a navy suit. It contrasted well with his platinum-blonde hair that seemed to attract as many eyes as possible while you were out in public together.

“Yes, I did. You need to behave tonight, I’m not risking anything because you want to get your dick wet,” You scoff.

“Trust me, I already got this little lecture from your mother. I’ll be fine.” He smirks at you, not doing much to quiet the anxiety that was starting to build in your stomach.

“Well, your girlfriend is telling you herself that I’m serious about this,” Your hands automatically move up to his shoulders, smoothing out the nonexistent creases on his jacket. It was still weird to call yourself his girlfriend, the word felt too stiff coming from your mouth.

“And I’m reluctantly listening,” He moves his hand to your bare shoulder, brushing something off with a few light sweeps. You opted to wear a black form fitting gown, the design was relatively simple but it was still eye-catching. You thought you noticed Soonyoung taking glances at you.

“Do you remember everything I told you about tonight?” You remind him.

“Why wouldn’t I remember, Y/N?” He gives you that “are you serious” kind of look and you’re starting to buckle under the pressure.

“I don’t know, maybe you’re nervous or something,” You turn away from him, peering into the mirror to check if there are any flaws with your makeup.

“I don’t get nervous about stuff like this. Are you nervous?” You see him approaching, but you put your focus immediately back on your face.

“What? No, stop, I’m fine,” You purse your lips to check your lipstick. He mimics you, pushing his lips out like a duck and it startles you.

“Those cheeks of yours are telling me otherwise,” He rubs a finger on your cheek and you slap it away almost immediately.

“Stop, Soonyoung, I’m serious. Let’s just get through the night.” You shoot him a warning look and he puts his hands up defensively.

“Okay, no funny business. I promise,” He smiles. It’s not enough to convince you, but your mind is too focused on creating a good outcome for the night that it’s fruitless trying to argue with him any further.

“Ready for a good time?” He offers his hand out to you, and you reluctantly accept it.

“It sounds bad when you say it.”

—

“You know, she said we should kiss just once to see what it’s like,” His voice was slightly slurred as if the alcohol was slowly taking possession of his words.

“You’re just tipsy,” You throw your purse across the living room and fumble to lock the door shut.

“No, you are, I saw you sneak two shots out of the kitchen,” He points with a shocked smile, “plus a few glasses of chardonnay. You’re not fooling me, princess.”

He was probably right, but that didn’t make it any better. “God forbid that I wanna drink at my own event. Why are you at my place right now?” You’re irritated at his presence almost constantly.

“You wanted me to do everything for you, remember? So you could just hop into bed with no worries,” He waves his arm into the air.

The event went well, accounting for your drunkenness and Soonyoung’s unpredictable nature.

“What are you waiting for then? Take my shoes off,” You flail your arms helplessly, your body is slowly slumping forward but Soonyoung catches you before you stumble.

“Okay, let's sit down, miss bossy. You’re ordering me around when I was a perfect boyfriend tonight,” He guides you to your couch, slowly easing you down onto the seat when you let out an audible sigh of relief.

“You were an average boyfriend who didn’t look stupid in front of paparazzi. Don’t feel too proud of yourself.” Your tolerance for his shenanigans was lower than usual now that you were drunk, and you didn’t feel bad about fighting back at him.

“All of this is extra credit,” He tries to reason himself out of the bare minimum.

“Taking care of me is not extra credit, it’s the standard. You’re supposed to be taking care of me for the rest of my life, not just right now. Idiot,” You roll your eyes and close them briefly before his voice forces you awake again.

“You’re so mean to me, your poor boyfriend is still learning what you like,” He finally takes off your heels and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Better?” He asks with a smile. You know that he wants to laugh at you so badly, but you’re too far gone to care.

“Much better,” You close your eyes for a moment before snapping again. “Take off my jewelry.”

He removes your earrings quite easily, but you still feel a bit flustered when he leans toward your ear to focus on undoing the clasps of your necklace.

He settles his face near your neck to fully remove your diamond necklace, he cradles it in his hand and you think you might go slightly insane. He places it on the coffee table gently and looks back at you with a smirk.

“What’s going on?” You pick up on his expression.

“Nothing, I’m gonna do your hair.” He turns your body so your back is facing him now. He’s sort of just feeling around for bobby pins, placing them down on the coffee table whenever he pulls another out. Once he takes out the decorative pins near the top of your head, your hair finally feels free.

“Soonyoung?” You ask suddenly.

“Hmm?” He’s organizing all the hairpins but takes a moment to look up at you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” Your voice is a bit timid, nervous about how he might react. You would’ve contained yourself in any other circumstance, but now you just needed to head that you were worth complimenting.

“Where’s all this coming from, you’re just fishing for compliments now,” He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

“No, I’m not. It’s just-,” Your thoughts trail off, but Soonyoung catches your attention again with a gentle hand on your thigh. You don’t jump to move it away.

“Everybody was looking at us, but some people looked at us like I wasn’t meant to be with you. Is that true? Am I not pretty enough to be with you?” You feel increasingly insecure the more you elaborate. You didn’t think you’d feel this upset about it, but it meant your work was failing. You weren’t a believable couple and it was obvious to you now.

“Y/N, don’t say that. You’re beautiful,” His voice is noticeably softer.

“Not beautiful enough to sleep with. You wouldn’t sleep with me,” You rub your eyes with your hands and Soonyoung removes them from your face, laughing at the traces of makeup on the sides of your fingers. It seems like he still caught what you said though when he stops laughing.

“And that’s not the point. You’re just saying shit now, all of the guys in there would be lucky to even kiss you,” He insists. He stands up suddenly and walks toward your room. You assume he gets up to find makeup wipes, but you sit with his statement in the meantime.

You contemplate if you’d even want to kiss any of the royals who came to the party. You knew your standards were high and wondered if that would chase them off before they even had a chance to kiss you. He comes back and immediately wipes across your face the moment he sits down. His approach is slightly rough, but you couldn’t exactly get mad at him. He was just doing what you asked of him.

He’s analyzing if he got all of the makeup off when you speak up.

“But you’re not lucky?” You remark quietly.

That makes him clear his throat. You can even spot a hint of blush across his cheeks. It appears that you’ve riled him up slightly.

“I am lucky,” He lowers his head to rub the back of his neck with his hand, “You give me a run for my money.”

“Show me how lucky you are.” You continue to tempt him to see how he’ll react.

“I thought you wanted me to behave tonight?” He’s almost willing to act, but he still waits for your approval.

“I do, but she said we should kiss for practice,” You swallow lightly in anticipation. He rests his forehead against yours and you can hear his breath hitch in his throat.

You’ve been good, you’ve been so good all of your life. You don’t think you’ve done anything worth batting an eye at for your entire adolescence and young adulthood, but it was exhausting.

It was exhausting to be good, the voice of reason, the example of a perfect daughter to your country.

You weren’t in love with him, absolutely not.

Yet, the curiosity about what his lips tasted like made you want to be rebellious.

“I didn’t think you heard me.” He chuckled softly.

“I did,” You nodded your head against his. Soonyoung didn’t ask for permission to be bad, he just did it. That’s what runs through your brain when your lips meet his. Neither of you move for a moment and you’re afraid that you messed up.

That is until you feel Soonyoung’s hand cradling the back of your neck. He’s tilting into the kiss and you know he’s comfortable by the way his tongue slips into your mouth.

He tastes like tequila mostly, but there’s a hint of sweetness that you suspect comes from the dessert table at the party.

It feels so much better than you expected, now you know why girls couldn’t get enough of him. Even if it is just practice, he still took it far more seriously than you expected.

You haven’t had many kisses that were worth remembering, but this was something spectacular.

You know he’s kissed people far more times than you have, but there’s still a hesitant energy there that you can’t describe.

Did you make him nervous?

He pulls away first and it surprises you. He takes a deep breath and looks at you with tired eyes.

“Just a practice kiss, right?” He whispers.

“Just practice.” You affirm, pulling your head back. You’re not sure why it felt so disappointing to not have another kiss. You were sobering up which made the realization even worse.

“I’ll leave now before you kick me out.” He stands up from the couch and you don’t follow him. He makes it to the door and turns around.

“Don’t stay up all night reading thinking you can fight a hangover, go to bed.” He points at you with a teasing finger.

“Don’t lecture me, Kwon Soonyoung.” You stand up and walk toward your bedroom, ignoring whatever expression is on his face. You don’t look back until you hear the front door shut.

He didn’t say goodbye and that was probably for the best. You didn’t need any other memory from this part of the night to linger in your brain.

You rush back to the living room to lock the door again and sulk back to your bedroom. You eye the novel on your bedside table, you left it there earlier in the day to pick up whether you ended up drunk from the party or not.

Damn, he was good.

—

There were now multiple days, even weeks, between your shared schedules with him, and the more time that went by after the kiss only made you want to see him again.

Of course, he was friendly to you in public, and you were both able to handle public events with ease, but

the timing left you with many questions, and one stuck out in particular.

Why was he nervous to kiss you?

Today, he requested a private schedule for the two of you before he left Maritria early next week. There was a sneaking suspicion that it was the proposal since there wouldn’t be another reason for you to be alone.

He never wants to be left alone with you, it’s all about putting on an act for others that makes it so thrilling for him.

That’s what you try to tell yourself, at least.

“You’re here,” He eyes you carefully as you approach the entrance of the private garden. He’s surrounded by endless blooms, it’s almost suffocating how romantic it’s supposed to feel.

“I’m here because you want me here,” You offer quietly.

“Right, well I don’t want to waste any time. I’m sure my princess has lots of work to do today.”

On any other day, he’d be right, but the underlying suspicion of his true intentions made you want to linger.

He grabs your hand before you have another second to contemplate your feelings.

“I know that I’m not the person you wanted this to be from, but that’s how things have turned out. We both can’t get what we want, but I want to make this a good memory for us regardless of the situation.”

He gets down on one knee before asking. “So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

His hands held a small black velvet box and he quickly opened it to reveal a stunning oval shaped diamond ring. There are definitely more carats than you've ever seen on an engagement ring, and the gold band it sits upon feels equally regal.

It almost makes you sick from how ornate and gaudy it is, but it’s yours.

“You know this is the part where you say yes,” He clears his throat.

“Give me a second,” You mumble. You can’t see his glance, instead choosing to look at the ring. Everything else felt like a game before, but this was real.

He is proposing to you, offering a ring to you to signify a love that wasn’t actually real. That kind of sappy affectionate love you dreamed of would never come to fruition, possibly for the rest of your life.

It’s a realization that is entirely too bleak for the moment.

You’re meant to be happy, but if your parents were here they’d pick apart how long it took you to respond.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” You force a smile onto your face to appease him. It doesn’t seem like he notices the pained expression within it, only offering a content sigh.

“Great.” He rises to his feet to place the ring on the appropriate finger. It feels like it’s all over now, you can imagine the rest of your future laid ahead of you on a set path.

The thought of taking constant publicity trips as a couple, having future heirs to the throne, and the idea of bringing him into Maritria’s lineage makes you wonder if you did everything you could to save yourself.

There is no out, just you, him, and the impenetrable distance between you both.

You wonder how a couple might build a life with an unstable foundation.

“Should we kiss?” His question brings you back to your senses.

“What?”

“For the camera, we should kiss.” He points to a photographer making themselves known from a nearby bush.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

This is your duty, right?

You pull him close and kiss him, trying to ignite the small spark you felt when he was at your apartment.

Yet, the feeling doesn’t come and you pull away from him gently after a few moments.

“We just need some photos for social media and then you’re free to go.” The photographer reassures you with a kind tone.

You snap into professional mode in order to speed up the process. Your hand rests on his chest, angling it slightly to show off the ring. You force a smile, trying to indulge in the fantasy of it all. Once he gets a few shots of that pose, you turn back to look into Soonyoung’s eyes.

He was unfortunately quite handsome, it’s a shame that nothing else about him could make you happy.

“What are you thinking about?” His questioning pulls you out of your head once again, but you’re not sure what to tell him.

Being honest with him means making a sweet moment uncomfortable, and lying to him means letting your pain continue to simmer.

You go for the latter, to spare everyone a difficult moment. “Nothing. The ring is beautiful,” You shift the conversation with a quiet tone in order to deflect the topic off of you. He smiles widely, his face tells you that he didn’t expect you to like it one bit.

“I let my team take the reins with it since I don’t know you that well.” He responds so earnestly, and you’re not sure if he understands how hurtful that sounds.

You take it in stride though. “Well, it’s beautiful.”

He only nods and takes a moment to adjust his suit jacket.

You watch him brush over the fabric with his hands, wondering how in the world you ended up here. Even if things were different, fate would probably still bring you into Soonyoung’s orbit in another way.

Regardless, it’s enough to make you even more upset. Once the photographer is satisfied with the variety of shots, you’re about to leave when you feel Soonyoung’s hand touch your shoulder.

“Hey.” He turns your body to face him with his hand. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand in front of him without crying.

“We’re still on for this weekend, right?”

You can’t be bothered to remember what he means, but it’s best just to agree. It’s not like you had much of a choice.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.” You nod at him before leaving. The moment you turn your back, you can’t hold back the stray tears falling onto your cheeks. You can only hope that he can’t hear your sniffling.

—

Now that the proposal news was officially out, your life had an even bigger microscope on it than usual. You’re used to being judged on a public scale, however, there were millions of people who were obsessed with Soonyoung that now wanted to know every single piece of information about his new fiancée.

Your Instagram posts and tweets had an influx of new activity that you could barely keep up with, and the new attention was starting to work into every corner of your life, even the time you spent with Soonyoung.

“Can you tell your fans to stop making video edits of me?” You stuff your phone into your jacket pocket in slight annoyance. You were genuinely trying to enjoy the private dates you had with Soonyoung, even if they were heavily guarded by staff. It was only right that you treated these outings as the dates they were, opportunities to get to know him better in order to connect with him that would hopefully prevent any issues further down the line.

Today, the location of the date was your choice and the staff had elected to leave you alone in light of the proposal news. Thus, you decide to take Soonyoung to a small beach on the outskirts of Maritria’s capital city. You’ve spent many days throughout your teenage years in your favorite spot, a cove in a hidden part of the beach. You figured that it’d be smart to let him in on a few things that you enjoyed, namely one of your most treasured spots in the country.

“That means they like you, and since when are you afraid of attention?” His interest is now piqued as he places his head in his hand to face you.

“Since always, I’m not exactly a Kwon Soonyoung-level attention whore,” You scoff.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” He speaks in an exaggerated sad tone, accompanied by his pretending to cry. He turns his head to face you, sunglasses attempting to hide the goofiness peeking through.

“Still, I mean this is all a lot. I’m not exactly important enough to warrant 700,000 new followers.” You attempt to redirect the conversation.

As soon as the remark leaves your mouth, Soonyoung takes his sunglasses off. He looks at you with a confused glance, as if your self-deprecation was a personal attack on him.

“What are you talking about? You’re a princess and a genuinely nice one at that. That’s pretty hard to come by these days,” He compliments you. It pulls at your heartstrings very slightly, enough to absentmindedly check for a blush on your cheeks before snapping out of it.

“You wouldn’t know, you don’t see anything past the title before you sleep with these girls,” You attempt to defuse the response again, but he’s prepared.

“First of all, those days are behind me. I’m a proper engaged man now,” His thumb grazes your engagement ring and it sends a chill down your spine.

“And second, that statement is funny coming from someone who’s marrying me for financial stability,” He pokes your shoulder and you move to cover it.

“Correction, my country’s financial stability. You’ll have to get used to living here once we’re married,” You clarify.

“Who said we’re living in Maritria?” He argues instantly. You let out a sigh and try to understand the perspective he’s going to bring up.

“Soonyoung, wouldn’t it be smart to show how much the country’s condition would improve with you here?”

“Yes, but imagine being in Arinorin. The optics of giving you away to the country that saved yours seem pretty positive to me.” He suggests. While idealistic, the perspective is shortsighted. He didn’t necessarily have a shining future back in his home country considering his reputation and lack of communication with his parents.

“Even though you’ll never be king?” You didn’t mean for the question to sound so mean, but it’s true.

He was not the country’s future king, not unless there were dire circumstances that would force him into the position.

He scoffs. “Way to rub it in.” He looks into the distance, not acknowledging your glance anymore.

“I’m just saying. At least here, you’ll have the chance to have more of the public’s attention. There’s nothing to fight over, it’s just me,” You add sympathetically.

There’s a lingering silence that you don’t want to fill for the moment. You can tell he’s mulling over your words by the way he’s looking down at his hands, playing with his sunglasses idly.

“You know, you don’t have to stay there. Not to be that person, but if the idea of staying makes you feel worse, then what’s the point?” You soften your tone in an attempt to bring him back.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” He shakes his head resolutely. You feel your window of opportunity to try and comfort him closing rapidly.

“Ok, you’re right, but I’ve kept up with the news. I know a bit about how my future in-laws have treated you. You’ll be okay here,” You place a hand on his shoulder.

“I think they’ve wanted me to leave for a while, honestly. I’d go somewhere where they don’t have to think about me anymore.” He scratches the back of his neck before focusing on a small tidepool that sat directly below the both of you.

His statement is enough to now squeeze his shoulder, gently rubbing it to show your support.

“I’m sorry.” You offer quietly.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t think being a problem child fits me very well anymore.”

“You can reinvent yourself here if that sounds alright with you?” You offer and he laughs quietly.

He smirks. “I’ll think about it,” His slightly hopeful tone makes you feel at ease.

Any true affection toward him still feels too foreign, but verbal reassurance is a step you’re willing to take if it means your shared future is relatively peaceful.

—

The trips back and forth to each other’s countries were becoming a blur of wedding planning, being present at each other’s public engagements, and trying to get to know each other. It was becoming such a tedious process that any opportunity to rest was taken without hesitation.

The big plan for the current trip to Arinorin was to have a joint dinner with both of your immediate families.

You waited endlessly, but Soonyoung never showed up for dinner. It was embarrassing trying to subtly figure out where he was by going to the bathroom and frantically texting him. When that didn’t work, calls went unanswered until you were forced to give up and return to the table in defeat. He wasn’t answering and you were left to deal with two confused families on your own, attempting to answer questions that you had no answers to. Dinner eventually proceeded with an unyielding amount of attention on you, but thankfully, the rest of his family seemed to accept you.

Yet, it was ultimately embarrassing to attempt to cover his tracks and defend his actions throughout the night.

Thus, your post-dinner plans were to relax in your room and attempt to forget how wild the night had been. A knock on the door interrupted those plans almost immediately.

You open the door to see one of the guards that have been assigned to you since the arranged marriage proceedings had begun.

“Sorry to bother you, princess. I’ve just received word of a disturbance with the prince downstairs that needs your attention.” His tone was especially solemn, so you didn’t want to leave him waiting for long.

“Alright, I’ll be ready in a minute.” You nod at him and thank your lucky stars that you’ve already changed into more comfortable clothing.

With his assistance, you were soon traveling through the endless halls of the castle to find your fiancé. It wasn’t long before he came into view, sitting on a bench with his legs tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped around the front with his hands clasped tight. He was clearly drunk, sighing to himself before looking up.

“Y/N! Hi!” He exclaims, waving at you wildly.

“Fucking hell,” You exhale under your breath. You’re extremely grateful that he wasn’t out wandering the streets, clearly under careful watch by his guards.

“Can you give us a moment?” You look around at the surrounding guards. They nod curtly and dismiss themselves, retreating to a nearby room where they could still intervene quickly if needed.

You turn your attention back to him once the door closes. “Where were you?”

“I was out with Seungkwannie and, um, Seokmin. It was so much fun,” He laughed brightly, eyes almost disappearing from his smile.

“We were supposed to have dinner with our families. Remember?” You hold onto your curt tone.

He shakes his head immediately. “They didn’t wanna see me, they don’t care about me.”

You were starting to lose your patience. While you understood his hesitation to face his family, it wasn’t an excuse to leave you to navigate so many different dynamics on your own. This was supposed to show your families all of the efforts that had been made thus far, and there were plenty of efforts that were beginning to show naturally.

He had become more affectionate in public, it was less uncomfortable to smile at him and speak with each other kindly. It wasn’t real, obviously not, but unsuspecting eyes wouldn’t have known any better.

You were almost visibly in love.

“How about how I feel, Soonyoung? I had to deal with everyone alone, deal with everything by myself. That was so hard for me, but you just ignored it and got drunk.” Your voice was tight, barely allowing yourself to feel anything besides anger.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs before running through his hair. He’s affected by it, as his posture starts to wilt like a dying plant.

“You should be. That hurt my feelings a lot,” You felt the intended venom of your words dissipate on your tongue until nothing was left.

What was the point in yelling when he wouldn’t remember any of it anyways?

Honestly, you were disappointed in him. You had earnestly tried to connect with him, and it finally felt like he was trying to do the same thing. Yet, he let you down. You didn’t ask for much of him and adjusted your expectations for him at every step of the way, but he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t be better for you.

“Was being selfish,” His pout seems to get deeper somehow.

“Yeah, you were,” You whisper. You finally take a seat next to him on the bench, taking a deep breath. The silence between the two of you almost felt labored, as if the air held all of the emotions you were both feeling at once.

You shouldn’t be babysitting your fiancé like this, that much was true. If he couldn’t even attend a family dinner, what did that mean for the marriage?

“You don’t have to worry about the wedding. I’ll take care of everything,” You mutter quietly.

“What?” He sits up in surprise.

“I can’t trust you, Soonyoung. You don’t care about this and you clearly don’t care about me, so why would I let you plan any part of this?”

“I can try, just let me try,” He pleads quietly. You can feel the desperation in his tone, but you can’t budge.

“I’ve let you try and this is what happens. I don’t know if this is how you picture our marriage, but if this is it then consider us strangers. I can’t do this, not like this.” You can’t look at him as you stand up.

Your body goes into autopilot as you knock on the door where the guards are stationed, letting them out so you can both separate for the night. You gently request for him to be taken home before starting the journey back to your room, wiping away tears that welled up in your eyes without a second thought.

You hear him calling your name, but what point is there in turning around? You didn’t have the energy for drunk pleas and broken promises anymore.

If you couldn’t stop everything and everyone from falling apart, you could at least try to protect yourself from the wreckage.

—

For the first time, Soonyoung hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It never felt good to be ignored by anyone, but getting ignored by you? It had to be a new kind of pain.

Despite his unbothered facade, he didn’t mind your company at all. He quite enjoyed your little quirks, small things that other people probably wouldn’t notice.

In the chaos of your intertwined schedules, there were moments where he’d just look at you to take in your features for himself, and not anyone else.

He loved seeing how peaceful you looked while you slept during flights or the way your cheeks lifted when you smiled. Since he couldn’t have you to himself often, he could hold solace in the smaller moments.

Admittedly, he had been in love with you for a while now, and he could pinpoint the exact moment when he realized it.

He mentioned to you offhandedly that he’d lost a beloved stuffed tiger toy as a kid, but he’d accepted the loss and attempted to move on. He didn’t think you’d remember the anecdote, much less do anything about it.

Yet, you handed him a silver gift bag while on a flight with him.

When he unwrapped the tissue paper to the sight of the exact make of the tiger he had, his heart momentarily stilled in awe.

“I found the original manufacturer and they still make them. The certain model you had is a collector’s item now, so it took a little while to find but it wasn’t impossible.” You explained everything calmly, your hand propped your head up on the armrest of your seat. You lazily smiled at him as he admired it in his hands.

“This is very kind of you, thank you,” He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

His parents hadn’t thought of trying to replace it for him after all these years, and he surely didn’t expect it from you. The gesture is just so romantic, even if you just wanted to write it off as simply a nice thing to do.

He didn’t cry until he was alone after the day’s activities were finished, realizing just how important it was to him. You were so nice, much nicer than he deserved from his future wife given his standoffish behavior.

There was no reason why he couldn’t confess his true feelings to you at this point. The wedding was fast approaching, sooner than he’d like to admit.

Details about the ceremony were quickly ironed out between your shared staff before he could think twice about asking, and you held to your word that he wasn’t allowed to get involved in wedding planning.

He didn’t remember much from the night you found him drunk, but it was clear that wedding planning was off-limits and you were extremely wary of being alone with him. Thus, he had to make his apology meaningful, and he couldn’t wait until after the wedding. He was determined to mend the relationship before you walked down the aisle.

He started by sending you various bouquets, all carefully chosen by him.

That was a kind gesture, right?

He thought so until he saw you throwing one of the bouquets into a dumpster from afar.

All of his apologetic texts to you were swiftly ignored as well, forcing him to switch gears completely. It was clear that you were subtly hinting at an in-person apology, which was daunting but not impossible for him to do.

He hadn’t been back to your apartment since the night of the Youth Summit Ball, a major oversight on his part. Yet, he figured there was no better time than the present to start taking things more seriously.

He held the bouquet of white and red carnations tightly in his hand, fingers playing gently with the paper wrapping as he sat in his car.

He was optimistic that the rain would hold out until he was hopefully let into your apartment. Yet, he ignored the raindrops periodically hitting his raincoat as he walked up the stairs to your brownstone.

The moment he knocked on the door, it was as if the universe decided to fuck him over. The occasional raindrops turned into a full downpour, and he scrambled to figure out what to do with himself. There wasn’t any awning to hide under, so he attempted to conceal the flowers from the rain, unzipping his jacket enough to sit the damp bouquet on his chest before zipping it up again.

It felt like a lifetime before you opened the door, and the sight of you rendered him speechless.

This was the first time in so long that he was facing his fear of resolving the neverending conflicts in his life.

“Hi.” He smiles despite your unreadable expression.

“Hi,” You were confused, rightfully so. After passive-aggressively sending indirect apologies, he decided to skip everything else and just show up.

“Are you busy?”

“No, but I don’t think I have a choice,” You move to the side so that he can enter your apartment. He takes the cue and makes himself comfortable in the living room.

“These are for you.” He hands the flowers to you, and the hesitancy is clear on your face.

“You aren’t giving up on the flowers, are you?” You ask with a judgmental tone. He doesn’t feel completely deterred when you place them on the dining table instead of throwing them out.

“Well, these are your favorite.”

“This doesn’t bail you out, you know.” You give him a knowing look.

He sighs, steadying his breath before speaking. “I know, and you deserve an apology for everything.” When he notices that you're focusing intently on his words, he feels confident about continuing.

“I know that I’ve made you feel isolated, and I’m truly sorry for that. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this, and I want to make this marriage work. You deserve to marry someone who’s willing to admit their mistakes and grow with you. I’m ready to be that person if you want me.” By the time he finishes, he knows that he was completely honest with you. He’s wanted to be upfront with you for so long, but it wouldn’t have been worth it if he didn’t express himself properly.

You let out a contemplative sigh. He could tell that you didn’t want to reject him, it’s as if your face was processing his statement just as swiftly as your brain.

“As much as I appreciate this, I don’t want to be in a loveless marriage.” You said.

He swallows lightly, but he’s still understanding of your perspective. He knew that he had to lay everything out for you before it was too late.

“Who said it was loveless?” He says.

“What?”

The revelation seems to catch you off guard, but it's not surprising to him. Soonyoung is a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, and this kind of confession feels completely out of his emotional range.

“I love you, and I should've told you sooner. I regret not proving that you could trust me, and you have every right to not have any faith in me.” He walks toward you, internally pleading that the lack of distance will help you change your mind.

“I do have the right,” You mutter under your breath with a chuckle. He lifts your chin slightly with his finger, forcing your eyes to meet his again.

“I will prove to you every day for the rest of my life that I love you.” His eyes are completely sincere, showing that he’s willing to provide the romance that you’ve been grasping for. He can tell that you can’t let him in this easily, he has to earn you completely.

“Every day?” You question him.

“Every single day,” He reiterates. He means it too, his mind was already thinking of dozens of ways that he could start making it up to you.

“That’s pretty tempting, honestly.” You tilt your head in curiosity.

“Anything holding you back?”

“I don’t think so. You just can’t keep coming into my apartment soaking wet anymore,” You scrunch your nose at his appearance and gently tousle his hair, earning a giggle from him.

“That wasn’t planned. It was pretty romantic though, right?” He can’t fight the smile that spreads across his face as he asks.

“A little bit. I forgive you, by the way,” You admit.

He exhales and runs a hand through his hair with shaky confidence. He couldn’t be certain of your decision, so the relief he feels at your words is palpable.

“Does that mean I get to see all the spreadsheets about the wedding now?” He knew he was testing his luck by asking, especially because the process had been under lock and key even before restricting his access to wedding-related documents.

“Yeah, it’ll take some stress off my back. It’s giving me headaches just thinking about everything coming together,” You rub your forehead and close your eyes for a moment before looking back at him.

“You’ve been stressed like this and you haven’t told me?” He frowns.

“I was mad at you, so all my other feelings just kept building up. I’m sorry,” You shake your head, immediately covering your face with your hands. He pries them off just as quickly, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand.

“It’s okay, love. I am more than willing to help you, I promise,” He nods eagerly with a grin.

“Okay. I like that name, you know,” You finally crack a smile and his own smile widens.

“Figured you would.” He’s leaned closer to your face, but there’s enough space to move away in case you reject him. “Can I kiss you?” He asks gently.

“Please,” You whisper.

It’s all he needs to complete the distance between your lips and the feeling of you is almost overwhelmingly beautiful. He’s so lucky at this moment, feeling your hands push his head deeper into the kiss. He was too cautious last time, but now he’ll never take another kiss of yours for granted, not when it feels this good.

He would do anything to make sure you felt loved and cared for, no matter how long it took to earn your full trust.

—

“I just need a moment alone, if that’s alright?” The question comes out a bit shakier than you imagined, but you can’t seem to quiet your nerves. Your wedding day has already taken you on an emotional rollercoaster despite not going down the aisle yet.

As you view yourself in the gown that you meticulously picked out along with the detailed hair and makeup that took hours to complete, nothing looks out of place.

Yet, your heart feels unanchored.

Your relationship with Soonyoung was getting better every day, but it seems like it was all going a little too well. Even though your relationship was transforming from a state of emergency into a promising romance, it was all catching up to you at the moment. Your mutual efforts to improve your relationship had been fruitful, giving you both the confidence to get married without feeling insecure.

You wouldn’t regret it, right? You needed to be certain that you wouldn’t.

“Of course, Princess.” Your head staff member agrees without question before exiting the room along with a few team members who were assisting you for the past few hours.

Your brain can only think of him. The tradition of spending the night before the wedding apart from each other felt more like torture than anything else, as you’ve come to appreciate his comforting presence next to you. In the last few weeks leading up to the wedding, he’s made such a genuine effort to intertwine your lives together that spending time apart felt futile.

A knock on the door breaks you out of your trance. Before you can ask who’s there, Soonyoung’s voice fills the silence.

“Is it a bad time?” His voice makes your heart flutter before you can even look at him.

“You can’t see me before the wedding, it’s bad luck,” You attempt to fight the smile on your face but you don’t allow yourself to look at him.

“Even if my bride has cold feet?” He presses on, his footsteps quietly approaching you.

You turn to reveal yourself to him and his face lights up.

“They’re not cold, they’re lukewarm,” You smile coyly at him. He grabs your hands and scans your body with wondrous eyes, his gaze seeming to land on every detail of the dress before meeting your eyes again.

“You look so,” His voice trails off. You’re sure that you can read his mind, he’s practically grinning from ear to ear. It makes you feel a bit shy, you can feel your cheeks heat up from his complimentary words.

“You’re really inflating my ego here,” You shake your head gently, but the feeling of his hand grazing your cheek pulls your gaze to him. Despite your best efforts, it’s still hard to fight the inner voice that tells you that he doesn’t mean it, that he’s only saying it because it’s something you want to hear.

Yet, his responses are just unflinchingly earnest that it makes you wonder why you ever felt that way in the first place.

“You just look so stunning,” His voice begins to shake before he clears his throat, “I just can’t believe that you’re mine.”

You were certain that you’d never seen that much sincerity in his eyes up until now, but it started to quiet the lingering fears that still sat in the pit of your stomach. He was absolutely smitten with you, to the point where his smile didn’t go away while you were talking to him.

“You can’t cry yet, you have to save it for the cameras.” You chuckle in an effort to push away his tears, but his eyes were still glossy.

“I can’t help it. You’ve worked really hard on all of this and it’s coming together so well,” He sighs with content. Honestly, you needed to hear that it was all worth it, especially from him. Although he’d been offering reassurance more often than not, the sentiment felt different knowing that you were minutes away from getting married.

“I wanna kiss you so badly, but I can’t fuck up my makeup.” You pout. He instinctively places his hands on your shoulders, moving them up and down to make you feel grounded with his touch.

“We can kiss, you know. There are no rules to any of this.” He attempts to get you out of your tradition-focused mindset with a low tone. You do want to indulge him though, considering that this was the first time you'd been alone with him all morning.

“Just go below the mouth.” You nod and he smirks, immediately placing his lips on your jaw to see how you’d react. It pulls a soft moan from your throat, and your reaction encourages him to go down your neck, leaving kisses wherever his lips can find skin. You started to let go of the responsibilities lingering over your head and focus on your fiance’s tongue leaving open-mouth kisses on your cleavage.

He’s practically doing everything but undressing you and his eagerness makes it harder to pull away, but you have to.

“Babe,” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Later,” You have to hold onto your resolve or else you’ll give in, and you can’t let your first time be in a dressing room.

“Later?” His eyes perk up like an excited puppy. The implication of the consummation of your marriage feels daring, it will serve as the reward after dealing with the decadent fanfare of the day.

“Yes, later. I promise.” You nod and he somehow looks even happier than before he walked in. He focuses on your lips but leaves a kiss on your cheek instead.

“I’ll see you out there, okay?” He presses one last kiss to your palm before heading towards the door.

“Okay,” You wave him off and watch him disappear with a smile on your face.

It’s clear that you don’t have anything to worry about.

—

“You’re sure that you don’t wanna come in with me?” Soonyoung calls from the pool.

“Yeah,” You nod with a hand placed above your eyes, acting as a sun visor since you couldn’t find a hat to put on.

You were two days into your honeymoon, tucked away at a small island resort that mostly isolated you from the outside world.

The wedding had thankfully gone far better than you could have imagined. He stopped you multiple times throughout the reception to tell you how beautiful it was, how happy he was to be in the moment with you, and how well you planned it all. It was a day that felt sun-soaked, enveloped in a love that was starting to soften and lose the sharp edges that had restrained it before.

Despite all of the kind attention from family and friends throughout the day, it was evened out with the constant presence of staff and castle officials that made it all a bit overwhelming.

Thankfully, the honeymoon began the next day and you’d have to force all responsibilities out of your head for the next week.

“You’re thinking about something, probably too many things,” He assumes correctly.

You scoff and turn away for a moment before facing him again. “You can’t be this good at analyzing me, we’ve only been married for less than a week.”

He laughs before swimming closer to the edge of the pool to meet you. “That’s my job, angel.”

“But you’re right, I am thinking too much about you moving in and all the press stuff we have to do,” You’re rubbing at your temples just thinking about how much effort it’s all going to take.

“Hey, look at me.” He calls out softly. You reluctantly place your hands at your sides, trying to take in his words.

“You’ll have plenty of time to worry about this, but this is the only time you’ll be on your honeymoon. Hopefully,” He shows his teeth and it succeeds in making you laugh. He smiles back at you before continuing.

“So maybe we can swim together if you’d like?” He tries again, knowing you’ll say yes. You take one last sigh and nod.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” You take your coverup off to reveal a solid black bikini he hadn’t seen yet. You discard the coverup on a nearby chair before turning to face him.

He eyes you for a moment before you clear your throat. “Slow down, loverboy, we’re supposed to be swimming!”

“Just admiring how beautiful my wife is, that’s all,” He bites back a smile but ultimately lets it show. You walk down the pool stairs until you’re swimming next to him. He only stares at you for a second before pulling you in for a kiss.

You’re caught off guard, letting out a small squeak when his tongue slides into your mouth but you give in to the feeling soon enough. You let your fingers card through the back of his hair, pushing yourself further into the kiss. You feel his hands wander across your ass and you let out a moan.

“Just wanted me in here so you could fuck me?” You whisper, finally pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath.

“You caught me,” He whispers back and proceeds to kiss down your neck, not hesitating to leave marks that force moans out of your throat.

“For fuck’s sake,” You sigh. You didn’t need to have control right now, you didn’t want it when he was making you feel this good just by kissing you. You thank your lucky stars that the vacation house is somewhat isolated because you can’t pretend to hold back the noises you’re making.

He picks up on this and presses his erection against your thigh, causing you to hold your breath. “Where do you want me, sweetheart?” He asks quietly. Your train of thought can’t even start because he’s staring right at you, brushing his thumb against your lip.

“Chairs,” You mutter. He bites his lip and turns to look at the unoccupied beach chairs lined up near the sliding glass door that leads back into the house.

“Okay,” He nods. He leads you back to the pool stairs before taking your hand and helping you out of the water. You both don’t think about drying off before he sits you down onto the chair, pulling off your bikini bottom without a second thought. You watch him with spread legs, taking in the sight of his glistening chest and abs. He seemed just as eager as you, taking off his swim trunks in the blink of an eye. The sight of his cock makes your head spin, so you force yourself to make eye contact with him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asks earnestly. He must not know how hot he is because you’re rendered speechless. His freshly dyed black hair is slightly spiky, and it doesn’t help when he runs his hand through it. It all just goes to your clit, and you’re certain that the pressure will make you explode.

“Yeah, I’m good,” You force your mouth into a smile to replace the incredulous look on your face. He nods and settles into the space between your legs, quickly spreading hands across your thighs.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” His eyes are practically dripping with lust, but you want to let him know that the feeling is mutual.

“Yeah, maybe for the 100th time today, but you look even prettier,” Your compliment comes out a bit shy, but it still makes his eyes light up.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” He lets his thumb graze your clit and you whimper. He lingers there for a few more moments before dragging two fingers down your entrance. He ponders for a moment before pushing inside, and the new sensation makes you cry out. The angled position of the chair makes his movements feel even more powerful, and his fingers gliding against your tight walls already have you in shambles.

“It’s not possible because you’re the prettiest person in the world, and I get all your cute noises to myself, right?” His question makes the coil in your stomach harder to ignore.

“Yeah,” You moan. He leans in for a kiss, capturing your lips easily while thrusting his fingers even deeper. How does he know your body like this? Sure, you’ve made out a few times but he's never touched you like this before.

Maybe it’s the anticipation that’s causing him to show out like this, he’s trying to impress you because of how long you’ve had to wait for this. You let your arms drape behind his neck for a moment before clutching onto his back.

You hear him moan from the scratches you leave on the expanse of his back, you savor the noises as they start to blend in with your moans.

“Gonna cum,” You breathe into his ear. He can tell how tense you are around him, and your eyes are becoming frantic from the impending pleasure.

“Just relax baby, take a deep breath, and let go for me. I know you can do it,” His encouragement lets you cum immediately, arching your back off the chair with a soft grunt escaping your lips. Your orgasm washes over you all at once and his fingers only slow down a bit, allowing you to feel every single bit of pleasure that he could pull out of you.

You take a few deep breaths and focus on his eyes once again. You start to register his face again as he strokes your cheek. “Are you ok? Are you up for more?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think you’d get me like this so early, that’s all.” You cover your eyes with your hands for a moment before looking at him again. He has you so shy that you can barely look at him. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you haven’t cum like that in a very long time, but if he’s making you feel like this so early on into the marriage, you don’t think you’ll ever be disappointed.

“Well, that’s good. I just wanna take care of you,” He reassures you sweetly. His eyes are so full of love that it makes your heart pound, swallowing in anticipation.

He meant it when he said he’d take care of you, he had barely let you do anything for yourself since you arrived at the vacation house. It was so adorable that you didn’t have the heart to stop him. It was nice to let him live up to his promise of showing his love for you instead of constantly feeling distrustful of his actions.

Of course, there would eventually be moments where you’d disagree or argue with each other, but it wouldn’t be out of spite like before. You’re lost in thought until he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Where’d you go, pretty?” He whispers, his face now a few inches away from yours. It somehow makes you even more flustered than before.

“Just thinking about how much I love you,” You admit with a smile. His eyes widen at the confession and you burst into a fit of giggles.

“You love me?” He asks in surprise.

“I love you.” You state it confidently. You mean it too, and it feels so easy to express it to him. You knew you loved him since the wedding, he cried at the sight of you walking down the aisle and it helped you realize his sincerity. He seems to let the words settle into the air before giving you a response.

“I love you too. It feels good to say that,” He laughs at his own confession. With a mutual confession out in the open, the air somehow feels lighter.

“Can I show you how much I love you by fucking you properly?” He asks. You can only laugh and nod your head at how sweet it is.

“Not out here though. I need you in bed right now!” He exclaims, sweeping you up into a bridal style hold. You let out a scream before bursting into laughter, you can only let yourself get carried back into the house without protest.

----

“Fuck, right there, please,” You whimper, eyes screwed shut. The feeling of his cock stuffed inside you was indescribably good, it was nearly enough to make you cry. Once he got you on the bed, he wasted no time filling you up and easily pulled moans out of your throat.

He pressed your legs up to your chest, making sure that he was completely inside of you. You quickly learned that your husband had incredible stamina, and you were definitely gonna cum again sooner rather than later.

“You’re so good for me, my love. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of having you like this,” He whispers in your ear. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin brought something primal out of you, you just want to suck him inside of your walls even deeper. You were barely holding on, but he kept pushing you even closer to the edge.

He leaned down to leave marks in the crook of your neck, leaving a hand free to fondle your breast. It was as if he combined every possible move just to drive you insane and it was working.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” His voice is laced with something even deeper than lust, it almost felt demonic the way he asked you.

“Yes, please let me cum, please,” The words spilled out of your mouth, your voice was shaking along with your body. He was practically rocking you back and forth with the impact of his cock, hitting that particular spot deeper every time.

“Go on, then. Cum for daddy,” He grants you permission. The nickname makes you flood his cock, screaming again as your orgasm takes over you. He pulls out in time for you to squirt on his cock, leaving you even more surprised than before.

“Holy shit,” You whimper. He looks so pleased with himself, but also shocked that he was able to push you that far.

He lets you both recover for a few minutes, but you know he hasn’t cum yet. “I’m kinda close, baby, is it alright if I-?” He asks, but you don’t let him finish.

“Of course. I already miss your cock, to be honest,” You let yourself smile and his eyes are already blown wide by your response.

“You’re insane, you know that?”

“You made me like this,” You hit his arm playfully. He slides his cock into you again slowly and he watches your mouth fall open slightly at the sensation.

“I did,” He smirks at you, relishing the sight of how fucked out you look just from him staying still.

He picks up the pace, trying to focus on getting himself there. It didn’t seem like it’d take much just from how intensely he looked at you.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, baby? Should I get you pregnant like this?” His questions felt sinful in your ears, but you were too gone to care. You felt pressure building just from that, and the thought of him breeding you felt exciting.

“Yes, please, I want it,” You whine. He felt so deep that you could feel it from your head to your toes. Every single part of you felt overwhelmed by his cock and his relentless pace.

“Good girl, daddy wants to fuck you like this all the time,” He moves to kiss you sloppily, but it still feels heavenly to have him in your mouth. It wasn’t much longer before you felt his body tense beneath you.

“Are you close?” You ask breathily.

“Yeah,” He grunts. He grabs your hips and fucks into you even harder than you remember, the pain radiating from your thighs forces a tear out of your eye but you know it’s helping. He doesn’t warn you before he cums, and the sudden warmth inside of you makes you moan louder than you expect. He finally falls beside you and lets you both recover for a few minutes in silence. You could easily fall asleep like this, both of you laying haphazardly under the covers while his breathing steadies your own.

“Y/N?” He calls your name and it startles you. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the sound of his voice.

“Oh no, I scared you,” His voice is much quieter than before, lulling you back into a state of calmness.

“No, I’m okay, I promise,” You turn to face him, rubbing your eyes gently.

“Ok good. We’ve gotta clean up now, alright?” He softens the blow of the question by kissing your forehead. It still feels foreign to let him take care of you, but when you see how gentle he is, you don’t feel the urge to take control.

It’s enough to watch him go through your suitcase, observing how his eyebrows furrow while trying to decide what shirt you might want to wear.

You decided that he didn’t have to prove anything else to you, ultimately, you could see how pure his heart was, and it would be doing both of you a disservice to let assumptions of character control the course of your relationship.

You’re attentive enough to follow his cues while he’s dressing you or helping you up to the bathroom, but your mind is consumed by him.

“Doing okay, love?” His question pulls your head toward him. You adjust your posture in bed as he approaches you, climbing into the bed beside you.

“Better now that you’re back,” You hum lowly, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You take a deep breath, taking in the feeling of his skin against yours.

His body vibrates as he chuckles. “I’m glad you’re alright. I was thinking about something while we were in the bathroom,” He leans into your touch slightly, enough to make your eyes flutter shut.

“What’s up?” You accept his inquiry.

“I think we should take the kids here one day when they’re old enough,” He explains it as if it’s fate, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of him being certain that your shared future is meant to expand in so many different ways. You can’t picture yourself being pregnant for a long while, but the idea of building a family with him feels right to think about.

“We’ve fucked once and you’re thinking about our kids,” You tease him in a lighthearted tone, but you hear his nervous laughter.

“It’s just a thought,” He waves his hand gently.

“It’s a very nice thought, you’re really sweet,” You finally raise your head to look at him. You let your hand caress his cheek before kissing him gently. He accepts you immediately, and you let yourself linger on his lips for a few moments before pulling away to look at him.

He searches your eyes, focused on figuring out what you’re meant to tell him. You can’t think of anything profound to tell him, any extravagant sentimentalities you might’ve conjured up don’t make their way out onto your lips.

“I love you,” You whisper. Your feelings are buried too deep to let them all out now, but it’s enough to tell him this. You feel the pressure in your chest lessen the moment he smiles back at you.

“I love you so much,” He mumbles the words against your lips before kissing you, love seemed to radiate from his lips the way he was holding you against him. The day unfolded into the evening, time passing languidly as you were enamored with each other.

As you fell asleep with him holding onto your waist, you realized that sweetness had made its way into your life before your very eyes. The limitless potential between the two of you no longer strikes fear into your heart, but instead sustains you in new ways.

There would be time to flesh out the dynamics of your relationship, determining how you’d show up for each other in loud and unspoken ways, but the present feeling of safety that sat in your chest was enough.

Neither of you was perfect, but the act of showing up and being willing to grow with each other was enough.

You are both trying, and that is more than enough.

#svthub #hoshi smut #hoshi fic #soonyoung smut #soonyoung x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #hoshi angst #AHHHH y’all have no idea how long I’ve been working on this #but I’m finally free thank god

2K notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 10 months

Text

Desperate [Bucky x Reader]

Fandom: MCU Title: Desperate Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 3k

Summary: Enemies? Rivals? It's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the Winter Soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered.

Content Warnings: kidnapping, sex pollen ergo DUBIOUS CONSENT, sexual situations (named acts, non-explicit depictions of vaginal sex), medical elements (needles, IVs, experience of medical distress)

Thank You Notes: BIGGEST SHOUT OUTS to @sgt-seabass who beta loved this into what it is and @vonalyn who helped supply me with some of the vital energy I needed. This was SUPPOSED to be an answer to this little sleepover ask @povlvr had graced me with... but then it became this! Logistical Notes: Filling my eleventh square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - Y2 "Reluctant Teamwork" and @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer Week 9 which is technically a "FREE WEEK" but had sex pollen listed as one of the suggested things to play with, so... that's why we're here now.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You were an old SHIELD contact that Steve knew before Project Insight. He didn't know you well then, but you had crossed paths a few times. You were an analyst sometimes assigned to Steve's missions. You went to work for the CIA after the Triskellion takedown, where you stayed for a couple of years, before eventually moving into the private sector.

When Steve, Nat, Sam, and Wanda were outlaws on the run, they bumped into you again, and you became an ally and valuable contact in your new area of the country - and ultimately a friend. And trusted enough that you knew about Bucky - and Bucky heard about you.

Bucky didn't love that you were an element in Steve's life. He hadn't met you, hadn't been able to get his own read on you.

He'd been wary initially about Nat, Sam, and Wanda, but he'd been able to meet them and build his own trust - and they'd all ultimately put their lives and reputations on the line for him.

It wasn't that he was distrustful of everyone anymore and needed people to put their lives on the line to prove themselves. Those who had sided with Steve over Tony in the Zemo affair aside, he'd also learned to trust others again in Wakanda with so many of the royal family and the royal guard building relationships with him.

But with you he didn’t know you, and so he didn't like it.

What Bucky loathed even more?

You didn't blip out. For five years, you were there for Steve when he couldn't be. You were apparently there so much that when Steve left, he fucking said to watch out for you. The punk.

Bucky didn’t know Steve dropped in on you, too, and asked you to keep an eye out for Bucky the day he gave Sam the shield. You promised you would.

You reached out. Not immediately, but in the weeks after.

Bucky was... less than kind.

Frankly, he was surly, ungrateful, short, and rude.

Pieces were moving and with Bucky's reappearance in the United States, the question of his future was an immediate concern. Public and government representatives were demanding trials, pardons, and all the rest.

You told him you had found an excellent contact for a lawyer.

"No, thanks, I can find my own," the words were polite, but the tone was clipped, flat, low - almost a growl.

Being so abruptly shut down, you decided to cut the phone call first and on your terms, so you wished him luck - managing to be more polite than him, making it sound genuine - and hung up.

You called Matt Murdock yourself, and told him about Bucky's case.

You did it only because of your promise to Steve.

And a little bit because you knew you were fucking right and that Bucky needed your lawyer contact.

Matt chuckled, told you he knew about stubbornness, and that he'd go about approaching the Winter Soldier diplomatically and professionally.

Matt pulled off the best possible pardon deal, even if not everything about it was ideal.

When Pepper decided to get back into some of the Avenger support again - after the Flag Smashers business - so she could provide some more trustworthy resources for Sam and Bucky and the old crowd, you were one of the people she ended up scouting and recruiting to come work on the direct home support team with research and tactical support. Sometimes you went into the field with the team, but usually you stayed at home base and relayed with the agents over comms.

This was not because you weren't outstanding, but because it was clear the less time you and Bucky spent in proximity to each other, the less awkward it was for everyone else on the team. You were both professional enough to keep the animosity out of things during a mission over comms, and that was about it.

Otherwise, it was silent treatment and resentment.

Neither of you extended the woes of your dislike for each other actively to anyone else on the team, keeping your mouths shut about your feelings, and engaging in only occasional and minimal eye-rolling when either of you was mentioned. Bucky made a point of giving you electrolyte-enhanced waters first whenever you did go into the field on a mission with them, as if you were a toddler who couldn’t take care of yourself.

Sitting by you at a holiday dinner at Sam’s you almost thought there was a moment of thaw between you and the Winter Soldier, but you didn’t push the almost comfortable silence between you to anything more - knowing it had been long-established he only tolerated you. It was clearly only a temporary pause, meaning very little as Bucky continued to push for you not being put into the field with them. You didn’t need to be around his close scrutiny. He made getting over any initial crush you might have had on him very easy.

Things were fine like that for a little over a year.

And then you were abducted on your way back from a mission outside of Paris where you had been part of the local ground team, taken and smuggled out of the airport. It was not HYDRA this time, just leftover cretins who blipped away but now were back, stirring up their own operation which hoped to double down on being even more nefarious. They were interested in testing some of their new methods and resources while also trying to extract some sensitive information.

Why not kill two birds with one stone by snatching up a well-connected and informed analyst at the heart of the neo-Avengers operation?

They recovered files from debunked HYDRA facilities (hard drives were wiped, but motivated hackers knew how to dig beneath what had been wiped to recover remnants - in hindsight, SHIELD should have taken the tech to a secure location) and developed an even more concentrated and powerful form of sex pollen. They were interested in how it would be absorbed in both the aerosol and liquid forms they had developed. Why not try out both forms on you?

The aerosol was potent enough, but not in a way that would break you for their line of inquiries.

So, they injected it right into your veins.

Compounding with what had already been ingested into your system, everything intensified, and you - much more quickly than they anticipated - moved past what may have been a state where they could've coaxed the information they wanted out of you.

Quickly you progressed to the point where you were consumed by this toxin, your body raging and desperate for the physical activity that will get you to a sexual release and flush the toxin from your system. You were keening and moaning and crying, covered in sweat, straining painfully against your bonds, unable to focus on anything anyone said to you.

You were incoherent and not far from feral.

Having gone beyond the point you could be giving them intelligence, you were still useful to provide information as the test subject, and they kept you on it through an IV drip to see the limits of what an average female body could take before it was completely broken.

You had absolutely no sense of how long this went on, only that you were not even crying tears anymore, just dry sobbing and wailing, because everything in your throat, and in your veins, and in your chest, and in your vagina burned.

It was an agony you'd never experienced in your life.

You vaguely registered a cacophony of sound around you, but it was like it was coming to you through a long dark tunnel, distorted and distant, and you couldn’t open your eyes to see what is going on, not that you could even think to or were capable of caring about anything other than the desperate purgatory you were enduring until you finally passed out.

Bucky and Sam were nearly back to base ops in New York from the Paris mission when the news of your abduction came through, and they turned around immediately. Teams working at home and in Paris - and Bucky in the air while Sam piloted - narrowed your likely whereabouts down to two locations: somewhere near Versailles (because of course evil operations are drawn to the ideas of opulence) or a compound outside of Brussels.

Time already against them, Sam and Bucky made the tough decision that they needed to split up so they could investigate both options as quickly as humanly possible. Sam dropped Bucky at the well-equipped safe house less than an hour away from the suspected Versailles compound and then headed to Brussels.

After arming himself to the teeth as quickly as he could, Bucky fired up the Ducati in the garage of the safehouse that had been equipped with a noise dampener by your tech engineers, punched in his navigational coordinates, and pushed to top speeds to get to there, stashing the bike half a kilometer away so he could make the rest of the approach in complete stealth.

The operation was much smaller than he anticipated, but because of its size it was almost immediately apparent to Bucky that this was where they had you, and he was also confident he would be able to drop this operation and get to you without as much trouble as he expected.

But in no way could he have predicted the state he would find you in.

He heard your agonizing cries and keening within moments of entering the facility, and he'd already dropped four agents at that point, but the excruciating pain he heard from you was its own form of torture in itself.

He picked up the pace, tearing ruthlessly through everyone else that came between him and you.

He got the full view of the condition you were in only moments before you passed out. He quickly undid all the bindings and removed everything they had attached to monitor your vitals. He unhooked the IV drip but had the presence of mind to take the bag for testing later. It was inelegant, but he hefted you over his shoulder, and everyone else still conscious who got in his way of getting you out was incapacitated with a single kill shot.

It was close to midnight when he reached the safe house and carefully tucked you into one of the beds. He pulled a secure laptop and some of the base medical testing equipment into the bedroom and kept watch over your catatonic form while he started running tests on the substance you’d been hooked up to and sent the base data for his samples to the bioengineering team back at HQ.

Over the next hour your body experienced a few fits of violent shaking, but you didn’t rouse until almost 2am. When you did, it was with great heaving gasps, and your arms flailed, your hands grasping at the sheets, at your clothes, and then at Bucky when he appeared almost immediately at your side trying to soothe you. He had a theory he hoped wasn’t true – that he knew what was running through your veins – but it was confirmed when you clutched and pawed desperately at him. Then your eyes met his, there was a recognition but coupled with devastating desperation, and you started babbling his name and pleading, “Bucky, please, Bucky. Need. Bucky, help. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.”

He’d been in distress over you since he first heard your tortured cries hours before, and he knew you needed him.

He wouldn’t deny you.

He knew the anguish of being a slave within one’s own mind.

He worked both of you out of your clothes quickly, and then laid you back on the bed and crawled above you. “I gothcu, shh, I know what you need.” You cried, but with a glimmer of relief, when he sunk into your desperately wet cunt. He thrust diligently into you while you clung to his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist.

The first orgasm was quick, and provided a glorious wave of relief that helped, but it was not enough.

Not even close.

For nearly two hours he let you use him, pulling him into you, riding him, kneeling under him on all fours while he wrapped an arm around your waist and took you from behind.

It was relentless fucking until you hit the point of being utterly depleted – mercifully coinciding with when the chemicals seemed to have finally been flushed from your system with enough of the endorphins released into your bloodstream from the numberless orgasms.

If anyone but a super soldier had found you, Bucky genuinely worried they may not have been enough to help. Seeing you at the utter extreme of limits, in dangerous territory, had shaken something inside him he wasn’t prepared to discover. There had been no question in his mind that he had to get you through it.

He smoothed your hair off your face and let your body gently sink back into the mattress, then got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He wiped your brow first, and you sighed in relief, eyes already closed in bone-tired weariness. Bucky gently wiped the sweat from your neck, continued moving down your body, and then with a second warm cloth he’d also brought, he gently wiped away the mess of slick that had seeped down your thighs. He carefully redressed your exhausted form, sliding you back into your discarded underwear and his t-shirt that was close enough to scoop up from the floor, and tucked you into the covers. You were asleep before he had finished taking care of you.

As you rested, he continued his vigilant watch from before. You stirred an hour or so later. It was still dark, but with almost a hint that sunrise would be creeping to the edges of the windows soon. He moved to your side again, this time with water, which he pressed to your lips, helping you to set up so you could drink. You began to gulp it down, but slowed when he tried to soothe you and urged you to slow your intake.

When you were nearly done downing the glass, your eyes opened briefly, but catching Bucky’s wary gaze on you, you shut them again. Not before Bucky saw the flash of anguish, however. You scooted away and turned your back, pulling your knees up and burying your head in your arms.

Bucky wanted to reach out and touch you, but settled for softly uttering your name, trying to coax you to look at him.

You refused, consumed with shame and horror.

Your throat was thick with a different kind of agony.

That episode of pain and innate need had ended, but this?

This was a new hell you would have to endure.

“Bucky, I’m sorry, and I know I owe you my life and probably all of my sanity, but please, please go. Please leave me be and don’t put me through the humiliation right now of being here only because you were resigned to helping me despite hating me. I’ll have to bear that forever, but please, just… please at least leave me to myself until we get out of here.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Fuck, I don’t hate you – I never truly hated you,” he said. It was quiet, but perfectly audible in the silence of the pre-dawn.

You raised your head tentatively.

He took a deep breath and continued. “I only kept it up to save face since I drove you to despise me and was too proud to turn it around.”

You were truly overwhelmed. You wanted to say something but had no idea how to respond to that admission, especially when you were already wrung out to the very edges of your emotional state.

“I’ve respected you for a long time now.” Bucky broke the silence.

“You have?”

“Probably more than respected you, if I’m being honest.”

You were still exhausted despite having slept for the past few hours, but you pushed your mind to think… you started to reconsider the thaw from hostility to civility, that he argued with you in group settings less, how everything had become less grudging. But you knew you’d put up your own protective walls to shield you from his scrutiny because it had hurt too much to have been spurned by him when you’d reached out to try and forge that relationship with him after Steve left initially.

And so much of tonight had been a feverish haze, but you had small pieces that were stained into your memory, some of which were him and things you couldn’t categorize as the actions of anything less than someone who cared.

“How do you feel about me?” you ventured.

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes for a few long moments.

“I don’t know that I can explain it all yet – I don’t think I know the words for it, but… let me show you? No chemicals, just us, see what’s really here?” He reached out a tentative hand to cover one of yours.

You nodded.

You let him move in.

You let him kiss you.

You let him lay you down beneath him again, and this time you sunk into each other.

You cried again, but this time from the immense emotion. You could feel it rolling off of him and pouring into you, a balm starting to fill in the anguished pieces of your soul. Your spent bodies pushed through any tiredness and desperately moved together again, relentlessly motivated this time to slake the emotional hunger growing between you. Touches that explored, that carved into memory, that expressed.

This time when you were both only finished by exhaustion, you curled into each other and slept, feeling the beginnings of solace and true peace, a turning of the tide, and maybe the acknowledgement that emotions that had run so deeply between you two were only felt so strongly because you truly valued the other even from the beginning.

READ THE FOLLOW UP DRABBLE: UNCERTAIN AND SURE

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #tw: dubcon #sex pollen #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #hotbuckysummer2023 #buckybarnesbingo2023 #bbb2023 #x reader smut #aspen wrote something #female reader #desperate verse

1K notes · View notes

emsartwork · 3 months

Text

ALL OF DAPHNE'S TRANSFORMATIONS. INCLUDING UPDATED NYMPHIX.

Previously Fairy of the Dragon Flame now Fairy of Embers. She doesn't have any transformations others than these because she was fast tracked into the nymphix path, and unlike the winx the majority of fairies don't pursue additional transformations past enchantix. (i think Daphne would be interested in Dreamix tho, so maybe I'll draw that eventually.

Her major color shifted after dying and being revived, which is shown in her winx and enchantix.

other lore and design notes below!

I changed her major color from orange/yellow to more of a teal/green because. she just doesn't look good in yellow I'm sorry I really tried but it wasn't working. Also little updates to her hair color, nothing huge tho. Daphne's primary motifs are a branching "Y" shape and a double oval/tear drop. She's a pants when possible girlie and a one set winger(yes her nymphix looks like it have multiple wings but they all merge into one stem on each side) . Her scars from her Sirenix being ripped out of her caused her winx/enchantix to change a little to cover them(mostly seen in the arms) due to insecurity. Her Dryadix/nymphix flower is a daffodil! because pun Daph-Daff, and Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings (also creativity, energy, resilience, forgiveness and vitality). Her Harpix wings aren't super specificly patterned, but she has darting wings common in small song and seed birds (robins, finches, brown birds etc.) the coloring is referential of a Shrike (also called a Butcher Bird), because Daphne was. incredibly dangerous and if she had sided with the ancestral probably would have been given a moniker similar to Butcher of Domino or Daphne the Slaughterer. (some people do call her these but its mostly among people who dislike Domino/The Royal Family.)

Lore! Daphne doesn't have a great sense of self, she was planned as a necessary successor to Marion/the dragon flame in a period as the ancestral witches were escalating their attacks and search for the dragon flame. Bloom was a back up baby in case both Daphne and Marion got dead and basically worked as intended haha. Daphne was also much more publicly involved in the kingdom than many of the other royals in winx (Stella, Aisha, Krystal and even Galatea to an extent all had rather sheltered upbringings) in a way Daphne is much more like Sky and Thoren in the since that none of them really had the space to develop their own personality outside of their familial duty.

Daphne's 1st winx and enchantixes are as direct a copy of her mom's Enchantix as you can get with transformations, right down to the more greenish tint of her major color. Growing up Marion used her fairy form liberally, so that, combined with being the next Dragon Flame holder left a deep impact on Daphne's subconscious. Daphne was also heavily influenced by Faragonda during her Alfea and Nymphix Quest years, but since she was older this isn't as deep an influence. After being revived, Daphne's years of defining herself as her connection to Bloom causes her major color to shift more blue in response to her trauma. Daphne is slowly starting to develop a sense of self outside of her titles/connections but it's unlikely her major color will shift again unless she has another major trauma.

(for the record the Winx do have trauma over the timeline I have laid out that would potentially cause their major colors to shift but I didn't do that for a couple reasons 1, their colors are iconic and make them easily recognizable as characters; 2, I'm a tired bitch. )

#winx #winxems #winx club #winx daphne #enchantix #harmonix #sirenix #dryadix #harpix #coatlnix #nymphix #DONT look at these too closely the line art and some coloring is a mess i got sick of them half way through #Fairy of embers title subject to change but i like it for now #something about Daphne is so wrong I want to put her in a jar and study her <3

317 notes · View notes

ranilla-bean · 7 months

Text

culture tips for writing asian settings: calligraphy (pt ii)

in my last post i talked about calligraphy more generally, but here i want to talk about the calligraphy from atla. all of the calligraphy from the show is written by dr siu-leung lee and i'll be using the artbook as my reference.

if you're a writer or artist approaching written chinese, you can think about how script and handwriting might tell us something about a character. dr lee certainly did, and he even tailored writing styles to who he thought might've been writing that text: "If it were a highly cultured royal attendant, he would use a refined, elegant style, but if it were a low-level clerk, he would use a more pedestrian handwriting style."

first thing: modern standard chinese coming out of mainland china uses simplified chinese. this system was developed in the mid-20th century, so it's pretty anachronistic to use this for atla. instead, you should be using traditional chinese as dr lee does (which is still used in hong kong, taiwan, and many diasporic communities). i usually use google translate to switch between the systems.

note the use of simplified 门 (door) instead of the traditional 門 from the aang's unfreezing day comic.

next i'm going to take aang's wanted poster as an example of three different chinese scripts we see in the show. the "title" is in clerical script, the body of the text is in regular script, and the seal is in seal script.

regular script is the standard way you'd learn how to write chinese nowadays. you can see (as i mentioned in part i) how the text is meant to be read up -> down, then right -> left.

clerical script is characterised by fairly compact shapes and a kind of "roundness", and was developed in the late warring states period. this is the script used for the chinese title of the show! in the context of atla, it implies to me that the writer has more specialised calligraphic training than the average person (who, if they can write, would be using regular script). you can compare the difference in styles for the same words between clerical (L) and regular (R):

seal script is the most archaic form of chinese on display; this one wouldn't have been written by the calligrapher, but carved into a seal by a craftsperson and then stamped onto the page.

what's also really interesting is dr lee implies a difference in script between the nations. some of the characters used to write water tribe-related concepts:

this is an adapted form of oracle bone script, the one of the earliest forms of chinese writing. this fascinated me because this script was—as the name suggests—written on bone, and perhaps reflects something about the material of what the water tribes were using to write. (you can input modern characters into this website to see examples of their older forms.)

finally, some cool differences in handwriting! this is from the fire day festival poster:

this uses regular script, but in contrast to the excerpt we saw before, the formation of the characters is more haphazard (excitable?). it's also written left -> right! this suggests to us the writer is a commoner, as opposed to a royal scribe.

these are some things you can keep in mind when you're writing or drawing in this universe—while you're probably writing in english, the characters would be steeped in the writing systems we've been talking about. if a character's sending a letter, what might the recipient notice about the handwriting? what does it tell them about their social status or education? could the shape of the letters signal something about where they come from, i.e. water tribe characters write a more curvy script?

disclaimer | more tips

#atla #atla culture #atla meta #avatar the last airbender #piandao #asian culture tips #chinese culture

584 notes · View notes

meiieiri · 5 months

Text

water’s edge | 02

₊˚.༄ pairing: crown prince!gojo satoru x f!reader | setting: modern royal au | official playlist

₊˚.༄ summary: in a world where titles define their fates, gojo satoru, the crown prince of japan, and his wife-to-be, face a tempestuous court of deception and schadenfreude. as they waltz on the edge of ruin, can their love endure the treacherous waters that threaten to pull them apart, or will the whims of the enigmatic chrysanthemum throne prove strong enough to drown them both?

₊˚.༄ author’s note: did i really just punch out a 12.9k chapter? 😅 thank you again to the loml @angstbot2000 for beta-reading! sorry for the wait everyone and thank uou for the sweet messages! again, reblogs are highly appreciated.

₊˚.༄ masterlist

Flashback: Shinjuku Opera City (a week after the jubilee gala)

Click. Beep. beep. beep Your wristwatch mimicked a ticking time bomb right now. You breathe once to make sure you were still, for all intents and purposes, alive. The smell of the Sauvignon blanc laid in front of you was so heavenly, its grape-like aroma tempting you to take a sip but you couldn’t, afraid that your body will just reject it in its current state of shock. You must have had a few too many earlier, your commoner palette not exactly used to the refreshing and crisp taste of white wine directly sourced from the rolling hills of Pouilly-Fume, and you must be hallucinating all this in your drunken stupor. Yes, all this was a hallucination, some sick naive dream you conjured after sharing a passing glance with the prince of the nation. It had to be, otherwise, why does it feel that your body has shut down? You were unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to think.

And you were adamantly sure that you had also been rendered unable to breathe.

“…Huh?” That probably sounded stupid to your unlikely companions, well, normally it isn’t that stupid if you haven’t said that every five minutes or so during this fateful encounter. “This is a mistake. You really want me to-?”

“-Yes,” he said immediately, his mother nodding alongside him. His finger glided across the rim of his scotch glass. He took it neat, of course, the Crown Prince is a man of good taste. “I can ask my people to help you move your belongings to a more dignified residence tomorrow morning.”

The empress frowned at Satoru’s backhanded comment about your way of life. “Satoru, you’re scaring her,” she whispered worriedly to her son.

“If she’s smart, sure,” Satoru hisseed under his breath. If he was going to propose to you and consequently marry you under his parents’ orders, he was going to do it his way. “Look, Ms…?” he trails off, your name escaping him.

“(Y/N),” you provided. “My name is (Y/N).”

He makes a soft ‘tch’ sound which goes unnoticed since you were too preoccupied in shaking away the haze of thoughts in your mind dimming your ability to think. He continues, “As I was saying. Ms. (Y/N),” he puts emphasis on your name, etching the loathsome sound of it into his mind. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

What did he mean by that? “Excuse me?”

“I know I said that I was just a fan when I sent you those flowers after your performance tonight but, I guess you could say I’ve become an admirer of yours.”

This was all scripted, and Satoru, despite having had a memory good enough to memorize has a good his entire family tree including the collateral branches before he even graduated from primary school, found the words getting stuck in his throat and he trailed off, his mind was filled to the brim with nothing but the face of the woman he is unwillingly betraying in the name of protecting his status.

But wasn’t this what she wanted when she threw herself at the emperor’s feet that night? She was selflessly allowing him to go through with this despite knowing that every false tender word that he says to you would be a dagger to her heart, that every moment spent with you instead of her would make her cry a river of tears.

It feels as if this entire thing was a circus he had been forced into because his crown was hanging dangerously off the edge of the tightrope above him. Forced to perform, forced to act, forced to smile so that he wouldn’t feel the sting of the whip his father, the ringleader, had in his hand. Wasn’t that something Satoru has always done? How was this any different from all the elaborate ruses he’s been ordered to perform? Gojo involuntarily looks behind his seat, craning his head back, hoping to see the familiar figure of the love of his life standing exactly a meter away from him, just as she’s always faithfully done, but that was all wishful thinking; Himiko had been removed from the duty of accompanying him tonight.

“I don’t think I’m just a fan,” he continues, turning his attention back to you, the words confessing his so-called love being uttered stoically. You stop him right there, the amount of bewilderment in your heart at a fatal maximum. His hand finds his pocket, searching for the godforsaken ring he is about to present to you. “And I—“

“—You’re just curious, Your Royal Highness,” you dismissed his so-called feelings with a shake of your head. “You’ve never been with someone outside your circle, and you’re curious about what it would be like to be involved with a commoner like me.”

When the words leave your lips, a stretch of panic washes over your face. Did you just disrespect the prince and the empress by doubting the sincerity of his words? Or did they disrespect you by treating you like a moron? Were you just supposed to believe that Prince Satoru had feelings for you? Your mind was spinning, and you were feeling a migraine aura beginning to form at your peripheral vision. You had to get out of there. Quickly moving the chair back so that you could stand up, you bow contritely to excuse yourself from the room. “Ms. (Y/N), please wait!” the empress sighs exasperatedly when you leave the private dining room of the high-class restaurant, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you hurriedly see yourself out.

Perhaps, they were being too hasty for you to say “yes”, too secretive about their true intentions. If they were to even have a chance of convincing you to marry Satoru, they have to let you in on the truth. Luckily, despite her age, the empress catches up to you just as you are about to hail a cab which was proving to be difficult since it was now past eleven o’clock and even the busy skyscraper district of Shinjuku was starting to look deserted.

“Ms. (Y/N),” she breathes, stopping just a few feet from you. “Please hear me out. I’m sorry, this was a mistake…”

“It's fine, Your Royal Highness, I know the Crown Prince doesn’t like me the way he says he does. I may not be as highly educated as you but I’m not an idiot.”

The empress looks on sadly. “Well,” she sighs, standing next to you. “I knew you would figure it out sooner or later. Still, I’m really sorry for what happened back there.”

You don’t respond for a long while, contemplating what to say; the air between you is one of awkwardness and something’s gotta give, otherwise, you and the empress would be standing in the middle of the empty street like total fools. You are the first to break, “Your Highness. Why me? And what’s this really about?”

Why on earth were you chosen over so many other women in Tokyo’s most affluent families to become Prince Satoru’s wife? You expected that this so-called dinner would be nothing more than a courtesy call to thank the prince and the empress for visiting the last night of your show. One could only imagine the emotional whiplash you felt when the prince suddenly offered for you to become his wife which was totally unexpected considering you have never spoken a word to one another before. Just what kind of a messed up Shakespearean romantic tragedy did you wind up in? This entire thing felt like a work by some deranged author who’s had one too many to drink while writing this poisoned manuscript of a love story.

“It’s exactly as the prince said,” she says succinctly. “The prince isn’t getting any younger and he’s in need of a wife. That’s what I would have told you if you were one of those shallow high society women I’ve had the displeasure of meeting.” The empress bitterly thinks about one specific girl that is so loathsome and vile that she has forcibly brought Satoru on the brink of total destruction. Last week’s fiasco with the emperor was a warning shot, and knowing her husband, there won’t be a second time.

You frown, not liking it when people are purposefully brought down to compliment another. “I’m sure that’s not true,” you mumbled, not really knowing what to say.

“But it is,” the empress insists. “People who are born with everything have this tendency to think they are above everyone else. Maybe that was what caused the prince to become this way, because his own mother was born from nothing,” she chuckled.

Knowing that the prince was the only son she will ever be blessed with, having had him at the age of forty-one, she overindulged Satoru by giving him everything, and bending to his every will. So, Satoru grew up confident that he’d only have to point at a storefront window and his mother would get it for him, otherwise he’d throw a tantrum. Maybe that’s what’s going on — all the scandals, all the controversies — was this another one of Satoru’s tantrums because they refused to allow him to have a relationship with, much less marry, his chief-of-staff?

“Nothing? I thought Your Highness, well before you married His Majesty, was an heiress to a car company. I don’t think you should lump yourself in with us.” Those who were truly born from nothing, you thought to yourself.

The empress puts a hand over her mouth as her shoulders begin to shake as she giggles. “Is that so?” she laughs, reaching into her coat pocket, in search of something. Finally, she feels the familiar feel of the trinket she keeps with her day and night.

You expected her to pull out something more valuable than a five yen coin, and it looked like it’s an old one, judging by its rough and rust-stained edges. “See this?” She carefully places the coin in her hand as if it were a precious item. “This was the first ever money I ever had to my name at only eighteen years old. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it even now,” she smiles wistfully as memories of her youth, albeit a simpler time away from the intrigue of the imperial court. She gently places the memento in your hand.

It was so light, it barely weighed a few grams yet it held so much of the empress’s heart in it, like a personal diary that has kept her company throughout the years, or perhaps it was a compass that led her to the path that resonated with her true self- the girl of only eighteen that had the look of a dreamer in her eyes, or maybe it was an anchor that served to keep her feet firmly planted on the humble ground in spite of her exalted status as the emperor’s consort.

You studied the coin. “Only five yen?” Even you, a musician whose finances are scattered to the wind, could make more than five yen in less than an hour. You were confused. Was this another one of their tricks to get you to say yes? No, it couldn’t be, seeing as how the empress seemed so genuine now, almost like the conversation you were having was like a mother and daughter having a heartfelt chat.

The empress nods. “I was a store clerk at a music shop when I was young. It was the only way I could save up and go to college. Of course, this was all before my father invented that powerhouse of an automobile when he was tinkering around with a few of the customer’s cars in the mechanic shop he ran.”

Listening intently to the empress’s story, a sense of solidarity seemed to grow between you and her. “And this was your first salary? Hard to believe music shops pay so little back then.”

“No, no. That was a tip I received from a customer when I returned her wallet. She left it in the shop and I ran after her. Of course if I were a thief, I would have taken off with it, but it was completely empty.” That caused you to laugh. Who knew that the empress who always carried herself with poise and dignity had such a deadpan sense of humor? “So, she gave me the only coin in the wallet to thank me. A five yen coin. Since then, I’ve kept this with me at all times. Call it an old lady’s sentimental ramblings, but this is what keeps me from letting all this get to my head.”

You nod in understanding. But what did this beautiful story have to do with marrying Satoru? The empress senses the question before you could even form words to ask it.

“What I’m saying is that Satoru was my outlet,” she sulked. “My second chance. So I gave him everything his little heart could ever want. And as a mother I know it was wrong of me to raise him to think he’s above everything and everyone.” She didn’t actively do that, though. Satoru just developed that toxic kind of thinking somewhere down the line. “I’m sure you’ve heard the nasty things they say about my son.”

The atmosphere suddenly turns sullen. You remembered how you watched in horror when Prince Satoru appeared on your TV screen the morning after the jubilee gala. You normally saw the prince attending royal functions such as groundbreaking and ribbon-cutting ceremonies, and while you are aware, just like everyone else in the country, that Satoru had his own share of misfits, you dismissed it as the actions of a rebellious young adult. You never thought for one second that you would see the prince battering a man until he was closer to death than a rat caught in a mousetrap outside of a shady gambling den in an unsavory district in Tokyo.

“I’m pretty sure the press is stretching the truth at times.” That was the right thing to say, you didn’t want to badmouth her son in front of her.

She scoffs humorlessly. “I’m not asking you to defend him. What I’m asking of you is to help him.” She takes your hand in hers. “Ms. (Y/N), this marriage may start out as a publicity stunt, but you could turn into something better than that.”

Maybe you’d fall in love with the prince, and maybe he could open his heart to love another again, someone who was healthier for him than Himiko. While the disbelief in your face was clear, the empress’s words give you a sense of hope but again, being excused from this narrative was what you wanted more than anything. “I think you overestimate my power, Your Highness. What you are asking of me will only end badly, I’m sure of it. It’ll be a disaster for everyone.”

Looks like there was no convincing you. A lot seems to be going on inside the empress’s head and you sympathized with her anxiety, but this was something you couldn’t do. You have been what people call a “pushover” your entire life, but the subject of your marriage is critically non-negotiable.

“I understand,” the empress is now resigned to her son’s fate. It seems, after all that song and dance in front of the emperor, it was all futile in the end. At this rate, this time tomorrow, the son of the empress’s unwilling mistress would probably be declared heir apparent and she would be powerless to stop it.

“I’m sorry, it’s just my mother taught me that marriage is sacred and that I should never mess around with it. You could have asked me for anything, Your Highness, and I would have said ‘yes’ in a heartbeat.”

“Your mother seems like a very wise woman,” the empress smiles softly. “And she’s very lucky to have you as her daughter.”

You stiffened at that. “I…I wouldn’t know if she feels that way, really.”

A wave of confusion crashes over the empress. What did you mean? “Sorry?” she clarifies. You hesitate to let her in on your own pain and you feel a slight prick of guilt poking your heart. She had been so vulnerable tonight, so open with you about her grief while you guarded yours in a titanium safe. She decides not to push the subject further and instead places a hand over yours comfortingly before turning to leave.

A thought occurs in your head and everything seems to slow down. The cars passing by the main avenue of Nishi-Shinjuku seemed to be running at 10 mph instead of the road’s minimum 20 mph. The billboards towering over you have momentarily lagged like some fatal error occurred in the LCD screen.

…This was wrong, you shouldn’t even be thinking of this.

...What would make you any different from a bloodsucking gold-digger?

…Don’t run after her.

She wouldn’t want you to do this. It would kill her if you did this. But haven’t you killed her many times before? What would make this time any different? Absolutely nothing. Your mind is made up.

…

“Your Highness, please wait.”

6:12 AM.

You didn’t know that the smell of flowers could be so vile and revolting.

Sat in the middle of a room with about a hundred bouquets of flowers from a multitude of well-wishers, at six in the morning on the day of your wedding, you gaze up at the huge mural of your new residence in the imperial palace. The pupils of your eyes followed each image on the vast painted ceiling which, compared to your tiny Tokyo apartment, felt like the entire sky altogether. Your eyes follow the image painted by Kanō Eitoku depicting life in the old seat of the imperial system, Kyoto, each blink of your eyes, you hone in on a new aspect of the mural: the mountain of Ryūgatake, the old imperial palace which you were told still existed today, the grasslands surrounding the ancient capital, and the people of Kyoto as they go about their daily lives.

If only those people could speak and were not just plastered images on a lifeless cement canvas to keep you company, maybe you won’t feel as lonely having had to wait for your wedding day to roll by without your husband-to-be by your side.

Sighing, you fall against the carpeted floor, your hands clutching a greeting card from one of your friends who gushed about how you had suddenly become a princess-to-be overnight and how you must be so happy to be engaged to such a handsome man that is prince Satoru Gojo. You hold back your tears, your fingernails digging into the vellum card.

You’ve given up calling the Imperial Household Agency to connect the line to Satoru, they come up with a different ruse each time. “Please, I need to speak to the Crown Prince,” you would sniffle into the line’s speaker desperately.

“His Royal Highness is busy right now in his office.”

“My apologies, Ms. (Y/N), but Prince Satoru is unavailable right now due to [insert name of engagement which is perfectly-timed with the wedding consultations he’s supposed to attend with you here].”

“Prince Satoru is currently away to inaugurate the new building for [insert any imperial charity foundation here].”

But you know all those so-called reasons for his absence were lies, excuses to keep their future consort from overthinking where her distant fiancé could be. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen Himiko around either, that alone should be enough to answer the lingering questions in your head about Satoru’s whereabouts. It wasn’t as if you could suddenly act like some jealous spouse when 1.) You aren’t married yet. 2.) You are the trespasser in their relationship. 3.) You are simply a bandage solution to clean up the prince’s image, someone who had unknowingly been at the right place at the right time. You are well aware of where you stand in the grand scheme of things; that kiss as you drove out of the palace compound that day should have been a good enough reminder that you will never truly be your future husband’s better half.

That title, the one you unwittingly stole from a woman you’ve never even met before, is something you can never truly call your own. You were no different than the typical other woman who would wear the legal wife’s wedding dress like some thief.

Yet how is it that you know all of these things like scripture but you still spent the entire night crying over a man who finds it physically impossible to be in the same room as you? Why did it hurt so much when you saw your fiancé shield his girlfriend from the autumn chill the same way you hoped he would shield you from the many challenging questions during that press conference? Why does it feel like a dagger had been plunged into your chest when you saw Himiko kiss Satoru so tenderly, and your husband-to-be returning the gesture with equal fervor?

You lay on your side, the velvet texture of the carpet somehow providing you some semblance of comfort. What would your retainers say when they come into this room and see the crumpled form of their future empress on the floor, her knees hugged to her chest as she tries to make sense of everything that has happened these past few days? You imagined that they’d probably think you were crazy, and Satoru would probably jeer at the thought of having a simpleton as a wife.

You were only a girl of twenty-three summers, you should be enjoying your twenties by doing the things that you love with the people you love. These sunny days of youth pass by in the blink of an eye, but in your case, you have been totally robbed of it, now being primed to become not just a princess but a wife too. While the former is certainly an intimidating role, the latter is just downright petrifying for someone as young as yourself.

Not a single soul save for the empress went to check up on you last night, the only people you were expecting to keep you company today are the hairdressers and makeup artists to prepare you for the wedding. Of course, the austere members of the Imperial Household Agency are also set to make an appearance in your chambers today probably to make you sit through another briefing session on court etiquette. You glance out the window, it was barely light out due to the winter equinox when nights are longer than daytime, and somehow that made you even more sad than you already were laying down on the floor of your room, desolately alone.

A knock at the door awakens you from your trance and you sit up, arranging your hair neatly and pulling on your shoes. Sighing, you make your way towards the door and see someone who you do not quite expect. He momentarily shifts his attenton to the battalion of attendants behind him, nodding to them. “Leave us alone.”

“Your Majesty, good morning,” your breath hitches in your throat as you hastily bow your head before the emperor who seemed to be more anxious about this day more than you, seeing as he is already dressed in his three piece suit and slacks ensemble with the Collar of the Supreme Order of the Chrysanthemum hanging between his lapels.

The emperor was an enigmatic figure who mostly kept to himself, his chamberlain and main staff often joking amongst themselves how the emperor was really a recluse who had only been born to become the sovereign ruler of a nation by an unfortunate stroke of fate. Your future father-in-law hums in acknowledgement and you are left to wonder if this is where Satoru gets his aloof nature from. “Good morning, (Y/N). May I come in?” he asks as if this entire compound wasn’t his.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He eyes the many bouquets in the room, sighing heavily as he does, the guilt of putting you in this impossible position weighing on him. He admits that he jumped the gun when the empress offered to have Satoru marry someone who could brighten up his public image from the many blemishes it incurred during the night of the jubilee when he and Himiko were seen together, causing trouble in the casinos of the infamous Kabukichō red light district.. To have you bear the weight of becoming a lamb to the slaughter with this marriage was just downright cruel, knowing that his son will certainly make it his life’s purpose to destroy you, but what choice did he have?

It is the crown that makes the choice for him, he’s been told by his own father.

“Listen, do you have the slightest idea of what you’re about to go through?” the man whom you would call your father-in-law in just a few hours asks flatly.

Of course you do, Satoru has already given you a taste of what your marriage is going to be like. You solemnly nod “I think so,” murmuring softly, crestfallenness is evident in your voice. “Satoru has made it clear.”

The emperor purses his lips as he fumbles with a tulip that had been nestled in one of the bouquets in your chambers, “Well, it’s good that you know. I know my son and I am not here to tell you that everything you’ve seen these past couple of days will get better,” he eyes the telephone, one you haven’t even placed the phone back onto the handset in hopes that Satoru would call you. “In fact, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

You frown, crestfallen. “How so?” you asked, your hand gripping the fabric of your dress. “Are you saying that this is just the beginning?” Truthfully, you were fine with this being the beginning, only if you could have the reassurance that all this will come to an eventual end. But it seems now that this was going to be life as you know it, with a husband who gags at the sight of you and has the innate ability to treat you like you were his personal bedwarmer and doormat.

“Yes,” the emperor says gravely, a dark look crossing his features. “So if you’d like to back out now, now is your only chance. Satoru has made enough messes, a canceled wedding will barely do anything to his reputation at this point.”

He’s right; these past days have only proved that Satoru is probably granting you a way out, maybe that’s why he has done nothing else but to ignore you as a final act of mercy if you ever decide to bail. One tiny kiss on the cheek is nothing when he starts to go missing in the middle of the night to attend to his mistress’s beck and call, when he starts to bring home his mistress for dinner to actively spite you with their relationship, or when he, god forbid, starts fucking in her in your marital bed while you’re away on some royal function.

You could live a full life without him, having barely even known him save for his proclivity to emotionally torment you, but it feels wrong to just…up and leave after all that song and dance in the press opportunity.l Shaking your head, the emperor’s offer is refused insistently.

“I’m not going to give up on him, I won’t give up on our marriage before it even begins,” your eyes bore into the emperor’s own. You’ve promised yourself and the empress that you’ll see this through, if Satoru is going to make your life a living hell, then, you’ll just have to take all his blows like a champ.

“I don’t doubt your willpower, (Y/N). I’m just saying that this might be even more difficult for you than you think,” the emperor warns. “Satoru doesn’t just push back, he’ll run over people who get in his way.”

“Your Majesty, it’e alright. I’ll manage somehow.” you mumbled. “The empress and I made an agreement that if I marry Satoru, I…” you trail off, not really wanting to reveal more than you should, the emperor waits for you to continue, his eyebrows furrowed together.

What would you get if you married Satoru if not unnecessary suffering? And even then, that didn’t sound like a good deal, the emperor thinks to himself. You could have gone on happily with your life, blissfully unaware of the trials of being married to the white-haired prince, you probably would have continued climbing the career ladder before finding someone to settle down with, maybe you’ll have a few kids along the way, and Satoru would also be blissfully unaware of a certain (Y/N) (L/N) existing on this plane of reality with him.

Why were you so committed to marrying him?

“I’d be able to…” you stutter. There was no use hiding it now but maybe you could conceal the truth a little longer, if not for your sake, but for the empress — no, a grieving mother — who met you in a hotel café that night with the weight of the world on her shoulders and asked you to keep the details of this transactional union a secret. “I would…”

The emperor raises a hand to stop you, though he is mildly perturbed at your hesitance to open up to him, he decides that whatever you and his wife were keeping from him does not concern him or the throne and that it is simply a thing that should be left unsaid. He really didn’t want to pry into the details of the contract you agreed to, and since you seem to have already made up your mind, all he could do now is hope that you do not give up so easily on his son the same way he did, and that this choice to marry Satoru would not backfire on you or the imperial system in the long run.

“Stop. I understand,” the emperor nods, his shoulders seemingly slumping in defeat as he is unable to convince you to cut it and run from the horrible fate you were speeding towards at a hundred miles an hour. Maybe Satoru was right to make you out to be an idiot, the emperor frowns. “But…don’t say I didn’t warn you, and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the best.”

And just like that, the wedding pushes through as scheduled, having declared before the father of the groom that you weren’t one to give up so easily, or…maybe it’s just your blind optimism talking.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you settle into an ornate curtsy, your foot gracefully tucked behind the other, your hand postured in a cordial handshake with His Majesty. The emperor’s pupils dilate, his mouth runs dry and he feels like something in his body had momentarily stopped working or had broken entirely — he knows that trademark act of obeisance so well — you’ve perfectly captured the image of a younger version of his wife who had perfected royal protocol in just under a year when they got married. She must have sought to teach you everything she knew or rather she was forced to learn by herself when she was in your position in an act of true esprit de corps. And for a moment, he finds himself surrendering to your doe-eyed but unmistakably poised charm, and he starts to become more convinced that you were a worthy future daughter-in-law.

He shakes his head, swiftly snapping him out of his trance, now was not the time for these things. The emperor nods back to return the gesture before turning to leave, just as your attendants are about to arrive to get you ready for the ceremony. “We’ll see you in the cathedral, then, (Y/N).”

But as soon as he is halfway out the door, he turns back to look at you one last time as (Y/N) (L/N), for the next time he will see you, you will then be (Y/N) Gojo, his first daughter-in-law, the first royal bride in centuries who neither hails from a family of politicians nor influential persons alike, the icon of a new chapter for the imperial family.

He sighs, turning back around to face you, having almost forgotten the task he’d been entrusted with by his wife. “I almost forgot. Ijichi,” he calls to his faithful grand steward who is waiting outside your chambers to bring forth a rather special gift he and the empress intended to present to you after the ceremony but he figured now might be a good time. The tall, lanky and sickly-looking spectacled man known as Ijichi bows before you which leaves a strange feeling festering within you, he was carrying a navy blue felt case that seemed so valuable that he had been compelled to wear gloves to prevent his bare hands from touching the fine fabric.

The emperor motions to open the case and your face pales when you see what is inside. “This is intended to be worn by the Princess Royal on her wedding day but since I don’t have a daughter to give that title to, the title will now belong to you.”

The tiara in his hands is a hefty thing, molded entirely from the most of valuable of silvers, it resembled the Queen Mary Fringe Tiara that had been worn by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on her wedding day, with an abundance of baton diamonds dotting every conceivable nook and cranny. It takes some time for you to adjust when it is placed upon your head, it only weighed a modest 1.7 kilograms, it was much lighter than the many tiaras the family keeps hidden away in the imperial vaults but for someone like you, it is an awfully heavy thing not just in the literal sense but also in the figurative side of things.

As of this moment, you weren’t just an ordinarily forgettable face in a crowd anymore.

“Carry the weight.” The emperor’s voice is commandeering. He steps back, scanning how the tiara looks on you from afar and though it looked awkwardly placed on your head with how you are struggling to balance its weight, you still managed to carry it adequately. “Now…you’re one of us.”

8:55 AM.

“Need some help?”

Satoru looks up to inspect the reflection on the mirror and a sad smile crosses his face when he sees the familiar figure of Himiko leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest as she gazes at her beloved getting ready for his wedding day. “You don’t have to be here.” He begrudgingly fumbles with his collar, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he professes, despite having immeasurably hurt you these past couple of days instead.

Himiko shakes her head. There was no use in grumbling about it now when just on the other side of the palace, Satoru’s unworthy bride-to-be was being pampered by her many ladies with manicures, foot massages, and practically anything to make you happy while she, the prince’s true love, was condemned to watch him be cruelly given away to someone else. There was a sense of finality with how hundreds of palace staff rushed through the hallways carrying all sorts of wedding paraphernalia to decorate the Chowaden reception hall and the courtyard to welcome the wedding guests.

Satoru frowns when her hands find his collar, she skillfully untangles the ribbon medal and readjusts the silver emerald-studded necklace that came with it.

Please…just one more minute…one more minute with you, Satoru closes his eyes as Himiko’s thumbs tentatively rub his chiseled cheek as if she were memorizing every bump and every curve of his skin before someone else tries to claim that they know every bit of Satoru inside and out. She knows it will never be true, no one can ever know Satoru the way she intimately knows him, not even if he was going to marry another woman. It may be possible for you steal everything from her — the emperor and empress’s favor, the public’s warm approval, the ring that had been fitted to accommodate the size of her finger before it was given to you — it may have been easy for you to pull the rug from underneath her, but it would be difficult — no, impossible — for you to ever claim ownership of Satoru.

He was hers and she was his, Satoru leans against Himiko’s touch, sighing woefully. “I’ll make her pay, I promise. I’ll break her, destroy her again. And again. And again until nothing’s left of her,” he recites the promise, punctuating the words with a kiss every time, as if they were having an illicit wedding of their own, and his words were a marriage vow — the only one that he will honor with every fiber of his being. Himiko bites her lower lip before she slowly nods, appeased.

“But Satoru, marrying her is the only way for you to be restored as heir apparent. Either way, we can’t win without doing this your father’s way.” Her hands leave his collar and she sadly gazes out the window, her narrow eyes glazing over the ancient ginkgo tree at the center of the palace’s vast atrium which was now shedding their green leaves to take on the tell-tale yellow hue as autumn draws near. She always loved the view of the palace courtyard from above, especially in this room where she and Satoru spent many nights proving their love for one another.

Gojo frowns at her melancholia, he comes up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ll think of something, I promise this won’t last longer than it needs to,” he kisses her cheek, nuzzling it with his nose tenderly.

“I don’t mind waiting, Satoru, I’d wait for you forever, and as much as we both hate her, we need (Y/N),” she spits out your name as if it were rat poison in her mouth. “So, let’s just play along. It’s not like we’re not used to meeting in deserted parking lots at midnight, right?” She offers him a half-smile, reminding Satoru that their entire affair has always been illicit in nature.

It’s not like she was accepted by his parents to be their son’s future consort. They’ve been through this before, hundreds of times rather, even before you came along. They’ve had to deal with so many forces ripping them apart over the past three years from the oh-so-omnipotent emperor who hardly wields any political power to his neurotic wife whom she has called, on several occasions, a bitch.

And yet, together they remained as it has always been, with Satoru cradling Himiko in his arms as he peppers kisses up her neck, sucking at the soft flesh, his hips flush against hers. He does this in front of the window for any unfortunate passerby to see. Hell, Satoru was hoping you’d walk by and see this heartbreaking display and maybe you’ll just run home in your wedding dress with your tail between your legs.

“We don’t have to get used to it, Himiko,” he mumbles into her neck, inhaling her sweet perfume, the one he liked the most. “One day, we won’t have to hide anymore,” he kisses her cheek tenderly, caressing the bone of her wrists which still bore faint marks from the handcuffs that had been wrongfully placed on her with his thumb. “And people can say whatever they want about us, and it wouldn’t matter because I will have been the emperor by then and you, my empress.” He presses their foreheads together, the tips of their noses barely touching in a moment of silence.

After a long while, Satoru lets go of Himiko, his eyes scanning hers as if he were searching for answers hidden deep within her soul. “What is it?”

“I just wish you hadn’t stepped in back there.” It was a thought that kept him awake these past agonizing nights. “Maybe if you just stayed out of my father’s office, this wouldn’t have happened. I was alright with you visiting me in my jail cell, you know.”

“As if I’d ever let that happen,” she sighs when he pulls away to fasten his cufflinks, suddenly feeling a bit disheartened at the loss of his touch. She kisses his cheek, looking at his reflection through the mirror, her eyes alight with adoration. “I promised I’d always be your ally, didn’t I?”

When she and Satoru first met three years ago in the selection for his chief-of-staff, Himiko Zenin, despite coming from the affluent Zenin clan, lagged behind compared to her contenders who aced the exams that tested their knowledge on the law, constitution, history of the imperial system, royal protocol, foreign languages and other aspects that may prove useful for the prince’s right hand. But there was one thing that she had that all the other applicants didn’t have, and she demonstrated that perfectly when Satoru unexpectedly dropped by during the final interviews to speak to each of the candidates himself.

Satoru stared at Himiko with a bored expression that day, his being devoid of any emotion. “Ms. Zenin, it seems you did poorly in all of the exams,” he glances at her file which should have been tossed in the bin by the time she placed last in the jurisprudence exam. “And you’re affiliated with one of the more morally ambiguous families in the country. Looks like today’s just not your day, huh?”

It was true. Having Himiko Zenin as his chief of staff was dangerous from the get-go. The Zenin clan’s head back then during the time of the selection was on trial for graft and corruption. But, there was something Himiko had that all the other applicants did not. At the time, he couldn’t quite put a finger on it but now, after years of selfless service to him, Satoru realizes that it was the ferocious loyalty that hid underneath her then perfectly ordinary shell which he personally refined into the gem of a woman she is now, and she never swore allegiance to the crown but rather to him, Satoru Gojo.

“But, I’ll indulge you,” he reclined against his chair that day, his arms crossed. “Why should I even consider you as my chief of staff? What can you offer me that the others before you cannot?”

Her answer to that question instantly won him over and in that instant, Himiko’s life had changed forever. “Whatever you ask of me, Your Royal Highness, I’d give my very life for you.”

Satoru turns away from the mirror, his lips instantly on hers. His hand dangerously hovered over the hem of her dress. “S-Satoru, what are you doing?” she moans into his mouth as Satoru moves both of them to the bed, he climbs atop of her as she lay on the mattress, her locks splayed over the silk sheets. She knows what he’s doing, this was almost like a film she has seen many times before; this was how tense conversations with Gojo go with him impatiently parting her legs, their hands desperately discarding their clothes until they are left utterly bare before one another.

He wanted to destroy you the same way you destroyed what he had with Himiko. This anger translated into his rough pace. He roughly jostles his hips against Himiko’s, her arms wrapping around him as he buries his cock inside her, his lips covering her milky flesh with dark-purplish bruises, marking her as his.

Call him a sadist but he hopes that Himiko would change into a dress that could flaunt her marked skin so that when you fearfully look around the cathedral, warily searching for her, your heart would break at the sight of the countless hickeys on her neck and collar. He wanted to see you cry the first of the many tears you will shed for the crime of marrying him.

“Satoru…!” she cries out as the luscious feeling of his girth pistoning in and out of her. He grunts as he feels him inch closer and closer to his high. “Mmph—‘Toru,” she whines when he reangles his hips, plunging deeper into her, his arms locking behind hers as he violently chases his release. He’s so close. “I love you, I love you…-a-ah!”

A symphony of pleasured groans falls from his lips, his very being uncoiling as he cums. His hips involuntarily keep thrusting as hot spurts of his cum drips down Himiko’s entrance, mixing with her own release. Himiko frowns as Satoru clicks his tongue at the soiled sheets beneath their connected forms. He groans as he pulls out, sinking into the warmth of her embrace, his still hardened cock poking her inner thigh. “Promise me you’ll only love me?” she whispers as her fingers absentmindedly play with his white hair.

“I promise,” Gojo murmurs into the crook of her neck as he lulled to sleep by her soft, even breaths. “I promise it’s only you…no one else.”

11:45 AM.

Only half an hour left. A crowd of, from what you have heard, 70,000 have gathered on the strip of the main road that the bridal car will pass en route to the cathedral.

“It’s true,” your maid of honor who people refer to as Ieiri says, showing you her phone which showed the many tweets from news agencies, famous personalities and normal people alike about how excited they were to witness your wedding day. There were countless social media posts consisting of yours and Satoru’s official engagement picture and many have taken to hosting their own live-streaming sessions of this monumental day.

“Everyone’s so excited. I wish my wedding would be this big,” one of your bridesmaids sighs dreamily. You manage a small chuckle at her, maybe if she knew of your plight right now, she would probably be eating those words alongside the many petit fours she’s been munching on this past hour. “Look at all those people,” she continues scrolling through her phone.

“It’s the first televised imperial wedding so obviously, it’s a big deal, Riko,” Utahime laughs. “Not to mention, it’s the first time a member of the imperial family would be married in a Western-themed ceremony.” For everyone to see.

One of your newly appointed helpers enters the room, and jogs over to you as quickly as she can in her heels, she has a small jewelry box delicately decorated in an ecru gift wrapper in her hand. “Ms. (Y/N), this is from the prince. His butler told me to give this to you.” You’ve been sad all day and your ladies-in-waiting heave a sigh of relief when they see a hint of a smile on your face, even if it did hold a bit of apprehension.

“Really? For me?” You stand up to accept the small token, careful not to ruffle your wedding dress too much as per the dressmaker’s instructions since the fabric used to construct the piece was susceptible to crumpling. Momentarily setting your phone down on the vanity table mid-text, you graciously accept the wedding gift. Maybe Satoru was starting to warm up to you and that he is now chipping away at the wall he built between the two of you. You hoped that by sending you this gift, this would be the start of something new and better with your husband.

But given how things are, that would be impossible. This was probably just a gift he sent to appease you after many days of effectively acting like you don’t exist.

You open the box and your ladies chatter around you excitedly. “It’s so pretty!” the youngest of your bridesmaids, the daughter of the Japanese ambassador to France apparently, marvels at the pair of earrings. Briefly smiling at her, you then turn your attention to the small letter that was neatly slotted between the groove of the box’s padded interior that held the earrings in place. His handwriting was so conscientiously beautiful that it almost looked like a computer-generated font, there wasn’t a hint of clumsiness in each stroke.

“To (Y/N),

I’m sorry about these past few days. This won’t make up for it, but, I’d like to join you in wishing for a successful marriage together.

– HRH Satoru Gojo”

Your heart slows at the cold closing. He had omitted the words “love” and “sincerely” before his name, but you expected that. If scraps of affection are all you could ever hope to get out of him, you have to learn to deal with it sooner or later; this was your life now, you will always be second to the love of his life. It must have taken everything out of him, and it must have caused an argument to erupt between him and Himiko, to send you this and you understand that he’s also having a difficult time with how things are now but it mattered so much to you to see him try. Regardless if this gift was given to you freely or not, you couldn’t refuse it, even if every voice in your head was screaming at you, reminding you of the horrific scene you saw that day when you caught your fiancé kissing another woman out in the open immediately after you announced your engagement.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” Riko asks. “I’m sure the prince will be happy to see you wear these.”

“You really think so?” you wince when your helper struggles to find your earlobe piercing. “I didn’t know he could be so sweet.” That’s obviously a lie; you know full well Satoru could be sweet, it just pained you to remember that he’s capable being sweet to another deliberately causing you immense grief. Your helper stiffens slightly. She has seen him become sweet before, albeit to another, but she didn’t have to divulge any details and accidentally ruin your wedding day.

She nods shyly, succeeding with the first diamond earring and then the other. She steps away from the mirror. You looked radiant. “Y-yes.”

Noticing her discomfort, you expertly steer the conversation elsewhere. “I see. Well I should probably return the favor.”

You’ve gotten Satoru a wristwatch you and the empress had personally had commissioned by a famed watchmaker that could rival the craftsmanship of a Rolex. It just arrived last night and well, given your current mental state then having taken the brunt of Satoru’s ire the past few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to wrap it. Momentarily deciding if you still had time to have one of your helpers buy some wrapping paper, you realized it would be cutting it too close so you hastily scribbled on a blank dedication card you randomly plucked from one of the bouquets you received. Luckily, some of them had extra cards.

“To Your Royal Highness,

Please don’t apologize, I’m sorry too for being pushy lately. Thank you for the gift, I’ll be sure to take good care of it. Happy wedding day, and I’m looking forward to better days together!

Wholeheartedly yours,

(Y/N) (L/N)”

Reading through it one last time, you affix your name at the end. “You guys are so sweet,” your youngest bridesmaid gushes as she presses a button on the room’s telephone to request for a butler. “I’m sure the prince will love it.”

“Whatever ‘sweet’ means.” You grimace, your unease getting the better of you. A few moments later, a butler peeks into the room. You bound over to him, placing the present in his hands. “Could you please give this to Prince Satoru?” you asked him and the butler looks slightly bewildered at your choice of words. If it was an order, you could have just said so. Perhaps you were still getting used to the idea of having people waiting to attend to your every beck and call.

“Right away, ma’am,” the butler replies obediently nonetheless. “Also I ran into His Majesty’s chamberlain just a while back and he asked me to remind you of the time. Everything’s ready,” he informs you just as he turns to leave in the direction of the palace’s east wing where Satoru's private chambers are. Upon hearing that, the bridal entourage starts to get ready to leave ahead of you, they’ll be going to the venue with a separate convoy from the bride’s since you’ll be driving through some of Tokyo’s major avenues en route to the cathedral.

You watch as they file out of the room in their cream dresses, each one of them, despite having known you for only a little less than half a day, pull you into a bone-crushing hug wishing you well. “Congratulations, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” you kindly smiled at each one of them as they left.

When you are left alone to your devices, you take one last look at (though you could hardly recognize yourself) the mirror, swallowing harshly, your hand absentmindedly playing with the locket which you continued to wear, ignoring the gracious advice of the Imperial Household Agency’s grand steward to set it aside for today’s festivities as it was uncustomary for royal brides to wear articles of clothing and accessories that did not hold any relation to the imperial family.

Only thirty minutes to go ‘till everything changes. Wait no, that was grossly inaccurate. Everything changed the split second you laid your eyes on him. Since then, everything seems to be a jumbled haze like some sort of psychedelic trance that just won’t end. Reaching for your phone one last time, you hastily search for a particular contact number, your finger hovering over the call button. No, there’s no point, you sniffle softly. Calling her would only make things harder than it already is and backing out of this now is out of the question.

Another knock is heard on the door, but it isn’t as insistent as the first few ones as everyone was starting to get a bit frustrated at you. Did they think you were stalling for time? “Just a minute,” your voice wavers. You just received a new text message from the number you were planning to call.

“We’ll be moving her in a few hours. Will send you her new room number when we get there.”

Bringing the phone to your lips, your heart makes somersaults in your chest when you receive the news. The sacrifice you were still yet to make has already paid off and your ledger of personal favors crossed out with a red marker effectively completing your transaction with the empress. Without even giving you time to text a quick “thank you”, another urgent knock is heard on the door. “Ms. (Y/N), I’m very sorry to interrupt but, we should get going now.”

“I’ll be right there,” you said again, quickly typing another message on your phone: “I wish I was there with her. Please hold her hand for me.” The second it goes through, you quickly shuffled towards the door, your head bowed in apology. You hold your breath as you balance the tiara on your head hoping that it won’t fall as it hangs precariously off-center on the crown of your head, your eyes trained on the ground as the door slides open. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries, I’m pretty patient. Ijichi, on the other hand? Not so much.”

His voice is feather-soft and melodious like a harp string being plucked delicately so that it produces a clear and deep bell-like sound, the very language he chooses to speak with is devoid of neither a shrill nor sharp word unlike the fusillade of orders you’ve been mercilessly bombarded with this entire day. Walk like this, speak like that, don’t do this, and most certainly never do that, you must have gone through a decade’s worth of rules and regulations to follow during the ceremony and even after you’ve said your “I do”’s. Still, you found solace knowing that Satoru is slowly warming up to the idea of cooperating with you, and has even found it in his heart to give you an olive branch of sorts which was now hooped through your earlobes, sparkling under the light like a clear drop of water from the sky.

At first, you naively think it’s him. Did Satoru really come over to see you? While that seemed uncharacteristic of him, the very thought of him voluntarily visiting you planted a sense of relief in you regardless. Maybe he wanted to settle things before the ceremony, to be upfront with you about his intentions in this marriage, how the two of you will be towards one another going forward, and if your luck holds out, maybe he’d finally let you in on his acts of impropriety with Himiko.

But, you would recognize Satoru’s indifferent timbre anywhere, this voice was far too different and seemed much kinder and softer than your fiancé’s.

You slowly open the door to greet your guest, confirming your suspicions as you meet the gaze of a man you haven’t met before. He seems severely unfamiliar.

No, wait. That can’t be it, he may seem unfamiliar but he’s definitely recognizable. In fact, you’ve seen him a few times before, standing feebly next to your fiance during the emperor’s birthday broadcast. Then, it clicks. Wasn't this…?

“Crown Prince Suguru?” you blinked. He’s the only senior member of the imperial family that you’ve never been officially introduced to. Of course, you are on speaking terms with the emperor, the empress and of course, Satoru, but never the prince that idly lingered in their large shadows.

The raven-haired man chuckles deeply at your shocked expression. Clearly, you didn’t expect to meet him under these circumstances, and that caused you to accidentally refer to him as the Crown Prince when that title only belonged to Gojo. He looks at you endearingly, finding you intriguing.

So this was the woman his younger brother is to be married to. Suguru has heard a lot about Satoru’s docile bride-to-be, in fact, he received news of the engagement while he was in Rome, the last leg of his first solo tour in Europe. People were so quick to label it as a pivotal point in the history of the Japanese monarchy and that you are the symbol of change, specifically, they likened you to a camellia blooming in a sea of chrysanths, a breath of spring in the imperial family’s everwinter – alluring in every sense of the word. But, alluring isn’t exactly a word he’d use to describe you seeing as you’ve only just met but, right now, he found you to be so adorably cute that he might just start to believe the things they say about you on the news.

“It’s just Prince Suguru. Satoru’s the Crown Prince.” The gentle correction makes you so flustered that you feel blood rush up to your ears, a tell-tale sign of your abasement. “But you could just call me Suguru.”

“Oh, right, my mistake,” you rub your eyelid, growing embarrassed. “Prince Suguru,” you stressed his correct title, remedying your earlier mishap. Despite you being in heels, you can’t see past him, given that he towered over you so easily so you stand on your tallest tiptoes, trying to peek over his shoulder. “You haven’t happened to see Mr. Ijichi, have you? He was right outside the door a few minutes ago.”

Suguru buries his hands in his pockets. “He just left, you’re welcome,” he winks at you, having sent Ijichi on his way when he accidentally stumbled across him furiously tapping on your door as he was making his way to his car.

Ijichi was…difficult to get along with — he’s short-fused, demanding at some times, and he is what people could call a stickler for the rules — Suguru isn’t doesn’t really want to say nasty words about his father’s grand steward and he’d give credit where it’s due since Ijichi is not just efficient when it comes to running the imperial household but he is also fiercely dedicated to every member of the imperial family.

Still, he couldn’t count the many times Ijichi had to scold him for all the mischief he caused while he was growing up even if his life depended on it. The worst scolding he got from the older man was when Suguru went missing on his fifth birthday, having snuck out of the banquet hall with at least ten pieces of bread stuffed in his pockets with every intention to feed them to the many ducks in the imperial garden’s ponds.

“What?” your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, you were going to get an earful later. “You mean he went ahead without me?”

“It’s alright. You’ll see him later, sure he’s probably going to talk your ear off but he means well, trust me,” Suguru flashes you a reassuring smile.

You look at him, your lip curled into an uneasy grin. “That doesn’t sound like fun,” you bemoaned, having had enough reprimands to last you until your next life. “So, with Mr. Ijichi gone, forgive my bluntness, but am I right to assume that Your Highness will be the one to bring me to the cathedral?”

Suguru accommodatingly holds out his arm for you to hold onto. “You assume correctly,” he says warmly. You expect him to hurriedly lead you down the steps leading to the palace’s main driveway, but he does something entirely different. “Are you ready to go or do you still need more time?”

That was the first time anyone in a kilometer-wide radius has asked you what you want to do instead of telling you what to do.

Suguru watches every small change in your expression. He figured that you must be pretty tired of people treating you like some robot, training you to blindly obey every order perfectly. The jet black-haired prince has only known you for two minutes and his heart is already disintegrating for your current predicament of feeling completely and entirely alone. If he could alleviate your troubles even with just a small act of kindness by engaging in polite conversation with you and actually listening to what you have to say instead of talking over you like most of your etiquette coaches have done all day, then, he’ll gladly tune in to listen to you even as you read through an entire book of sonnets if you ever felt up to it.

Being validated comes a long way, and if anyone understands your plight, it was him and even if he didn’t understand, he’ll do everything he can to try regardless.

“I-I’m ready,” you nodded hesitantly and Suguru doesn’t walk ahead right away and allows you to set the pace as you walk past the line of attendants that bowed to you and the prince as you made your way to the imperial family’s very own Toyota Century convertible which had been custom-made for you.

The open top roof gave onlookers access to see their future empress as the motorcade departs from the Kōkyo Imperial Palace and follows a 4.6-kilometer route that will travel to the St. Mary’s Cathedral, the seat of the Roman Catholic archdiocese of Tokyo. Neither you nor Satoru were practicing Catholics yet, the imperial family has decided that a Christian-themed wedding rather than the ancient Buddhist matrimonial ceremony that is usually done away from public view would make the imperial system appear more accessible to the people.

Suguru helps you into the car, gently arranging the train of your gown so that it doesn’t get all wrinkled. “Thank you, Your Highness” you whisper to Suguru who squeezes your free hand as if to say “you’re welcome”. The car’s engine hums to life the minute the two of you are settled in the backseat. “W-what am I supposed to do now?” you asked, readjusting your grip on your bridal bouquet.

The prince lets out a humored snort, having forgotten that this was your first official function. Showing you the correct way to wave and the right angle to face and bow to the crowd, he watches you closely, allowing you to struggle for a bit before stepping in to help with some encouraging words. “Just keep smiling and waving. It’s just like being onstage, you know.” At the center of the motorcade, six police cars patrol every side of the convertible forming a ring of protection just in case someone in the crowd with ill-intentions would try to harm either you or the monarch next to you.

Countless people erupt in happy cheers at the sight of you and Suguru, some are simply content with waving while others are holding up flowers and tossing them to the front of the crowd barriers in jubilation. “It feels a little more intense than just being onstage,” you mumbled, your eyes landing on a little girl sitting in her mother’s arms as she waves a little Japanese flag in her hand which looked like she made it in her arts and craft class. You awkwardly wave at her, chuckling when she happily waves back, delighted to see you directly looking at her.

“Well, you’re doing great.” He inches closer to you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist while the other guides your hand, gently angling it in a more prominent position so that you look a little more assertive. “Like this,” Suguru helps you wave in a more continuous manner, teaching you to center the motion by keeping your elbow mostly stationary and allowing only your wrist to subtly move from side to side. “And keep doing what you’re doing. Make eye contact with them; make them understand that you see each and every one of them.”

Suguru watches you bow and wave to the spectators with a proud smile on his face; the motorcade has now reached the Shinjuku area and is nearing its destination of Bunkyo-ku where the cathedral is and even still, the crowd doesn’t appear to thin out. Suguru feels like he’s watching history unfold before his very eyes. He wonders if Satoru had purposefully chosen a commoner to conjure up a classic “love conquers all” romance of his own wedding day, if he did, then Suguru must congratulate him for a job well done. No one has ever come out to see a member of the imperial family in this sheer number, he daresay, not even the empress on her wedding day or His Majesty on his coronation day.

But with you, this day is nothing short of a revolution.

“Your Highness, you’re staring.” Suguru hums, confused, before realizing that he’s been looking at you funny. “You’re still staring,” you said succinctly.

“Oh, sorry.” Suguru says awkwardly and you couldn’t help but let out a slight snort. “What?” he cocks his head in your direction. You were laughing, though brief, the very sound of it brings a smile to his face. “It was about time though. We’ve been in this car for more than fifteen minutes now and that right there is the first genuine act of happiness I’ve seen you make,” he remarks. He was starting to think that you were incapable of smiling which he found a little unsettling since brides aren’t exactly despondent during their wedding day. Of course, what would he know? His little brother had gotten married ahead of him.

You crinkle your nose in mock displeasure. “That’s kinda mean and probably the last thing I’d say to someone I just met…with all due respect, Your Highness.”

Suguru grins at your tiny jab at his character, and to think that he nearly bought into the whole “as demure as a butterfly” thing they said about you in the papers. Make no mistake though, he sees how elegantly ladylike you are, but he also sees how you are so effortlessly spellbinding with your wit translated into a few short but sweet words. No wonder Satoru fell for you and even gave up his vice-like romance with his chief-of-staff to marry you, he thinks to himself. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry that was a bit uncalled for.”

“Oh— Your Highness, I was just joking.” You waved to the crowd of people on Suguru’s side of the car, grimacing when you see a few schoolboys, probably university students with how tall and mature they looked, pretend to blow you kisses. Indulging them, you subtly return the gesture flustered beyond all measure. Everything feels so public now, and you are left wondering about how you could survive the rest of your life like this.

“…I knew that.” Choosing momentary silence, Suguru finally decides to chip away at the facade you were putting up. He could see it in your eyes, you were a cross between scared and unhappy which is clearly normal for someone who is marrying into the oldest monarchy in the world. You weren’t at all what the members of the Imperial Household Agency said of you when you were out of earshot: a sorry excuse of a future empress who is privileged in every way but can’t find it within herself to stop her endless complaining. “Just trying to make you smile, that’s all.”

Shouldn’t your future husband be doing that? You sighed. Oh right, he was probably busy comforting Himiko. She probably needed him now more than ever after everything you’ve done to torment her. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Suguru,” he corrects kindly. “If you’re going to marry my little brother, you could, at least, drop the troublesome title when you’re talking to me.”

Little brother? How have you never heard of this before? You knew Satoru had a brother, but you never thought Suguru would be the older one out of the two of them. If that was the case, then, why didn’t he get the title of “Crown Prince”?

“Weird, huh?” He breaks you out of your trance, as if he heard the question swirling around in your head. “Why is Satoru the Crown Prince and not me?”

“Are you psychic or something?” you playfully teased, slowly growing more comfortable with the jet black-haired prince that sported an Apollo-like smile - warm, and inviting. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Suguru shrugs. “Why? Whose mind do you want to read?”

Satoru’s, you smiled sadly. Maybe by unraveling the inner machinations of your soon-to-be husband’s mind, you could learn to meet him halfway by understanding him a little better; no person is born inherently cruel and while you had your doubts, you know, in your heart, that Satoru is no exception to that rule. “No one in particular.”

“Ah, well, I expected that.” He grinned at how guarded you are, reclining against the plush seat of the car to rest his stiffening back for a minute. The convoy is about ten minutes away from the cathedral now.

You offered him some consolation though, grateful for this light-hearted chat. “Let’s just trade answers next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Himiko thought this day would be horrible but it turns out it isn’t as bad as she pessimistically thought. If she only knew that this was how the love of her life’s wedding would go with him still inviting her to his bed before he gets hitched off, then, maybe she shouldn’t have been so awful towards you who never stood a chance against her. Competing with you would be like making a rival of a rat; it would be unnecessary trouble. Still, even if she had all but won against you (as if you were worthy enough to even become her opponent), that didn’t stop the Zenin clan’s little darling from causing a little trouble today.

Her eyes flutter open to reveal Gojo’s handsome slumbering face, utterly spent from their lovemaking session, their naked forms still entangled together under the cotton-percale sheets. She stretches her supple body luxuriously, and pulls away from Satoru’s embrace earning a small “mmph” of disapproval from her lover. Giggling, she plants a soft kiss on his chiseled cheek.

“Your Highness?” Someone says from behind the door. Taking one last look at Satoru’s sleeping form, she walks leisurely to answer it, clad only in the prince’s shirt which ran above her knee.

Leaning against the door, she answers for the prince, a detestable act similar to a cardinal sin. It was forbidden for a mere servant to speak for any member of the imperial family. In the past, in the Japanese empire’s golden age, a servant who took the words out of their master’s mouth would have their tongue swiftly sliced off. But Himiko is not a servant, nor is she subject to the rules as long as the prince was around. “His Highness is asleep.”

On his wedding day? The butler nods stiffly. “I see. Ms. Zenin, can I trouble you with this? The prince’s fiancé has sent him a wedding gift.”

Himiko doesn’t answer for a long while and a tense silence fills the room. “Fine, but have you done what I asked?” she relents opening the door, the butler’s face turns red at the sight of her lack of modesty. “Having you run my errands isn’t cheap, you know.”

The attendant bows his head, “Yes. She’s currently wearing it right now, last I saw.”

“Good. I’ll be taking this then.” She shakes the box to get a feel of what’s inside, not that it would be anything of high value though given its cheap sender.

Curiosity gets the better of her and she succinctly opens the gift, her eyebrow quirked. A watch. Very typical. She notes how it’s made out of silver and she scoffs harshly. Even if she didn’t chuck it into the trash, Satoru would have done it himself since he prefers gold pieces over silver and he most certainly wouldn’t want to touch anything that was from you given how he loathed the very idea of you.

The attendant gulps when he sees Himiko harshly discard your gift. “Ms. Zenin, don’t you think that giving her that would be taking it too far? You know how the Crown Prince feels about those earrings. If he ever were to find out that it had gone missing…”

She turns her head in the direction of the bed where Gojo was currently tossing and turning in his sleep. “Then, I’ll tell His Highness that his chief butler,” her eyes were aglow with cunning as the butler trembled slightly at her murderous gaze. “Is a thief who stole from the imperial vaults, and if you ever decide to rat me out, who do you think the prince will believe? A nameless no account like you or me?”

It slowly registers in the attendant’s mind that he had been utterly played when Himiko asked him to give those earrings to you via an under the table agreement, it’s not like Satoru prepared a wedding gift for you anyway thinking that showing up to the accursed wedding in itself is a generous gift already. “…You used me…!” he whispers angrily, not wanting to rouse the prince.

Himiko shrugs nonchalantly. “And you were stupid enough to be used for a few banknotes. Now get lost, I’ll just inform His Highness of your voluntary resignation tomorrow morning.”

She closes the door on the rattled servant and saunters back over to the bed, slipping back under the sheets. Satoru sleepily notices the bed dip with her weight, and unconsciously snuggles closer to her, his arms wrapped around her form. She lovingly strokes his disheveled hair alternating between twirling his locks in her index finger and massaging his scalp as if she hadn’t just ruined a man’s life two minutes ago. Her hands reach for the phone on the nightstand and she scrolls through her feed watching a video of the bridal car pulling up to the cathedral.

She boredly watches you step out of the car with your hand looped through Suguru’s arm shyly waving to the thousands happily anticipating this glorious day while your bridesmaids help you with your wedding gown’s train so it doesn’t snag across the concrete steps. It takes about five minutes for the cathedral’s towering doors to open and she smirks when she sees you slowly make your way inside, completely oblivious to the fact that your groom is not at the end of the aisle where you expected him to be and is instead still soundly asleep next to her.

The silence that follows is indicative of the horrific scene that greeted you and Himiko switches off her phone, settling back into the pillows contentedly. Serves you right, (Y/N), she smirks.

12:30 PM.

Funny how you think that you’re immune to awful things that happen to other people…before it happens to you. There’ve been hundreds of stories like this before, but you never thought that you’d find yourself in the long list of unfortunate jilted brides. Your hands tremble as you hold your bouquet of white calla lilies and baby’s breaths. Surely you must have gone blind or something or this was all some sick dream, you desperately search the cathedral room with abject horror in your eyes. It couldn’t be…you take an uneasy step toward the witness as your wedding guests whisper amongst themselves, their hearts filled to the brim with condolences for you.

Something in you jeeringly mocks you as if to chide you for living too long in the forest of your fantasy, dodging every pocket of reality’s sunlight as it shines through the many trees you’ve cultivated with your delusions that this…whatever the hell this is…could miraculously work out in the end. That you stood a chance against all the cards that were catastrophically stacked against you, and that he could give you even just a scintilla of respect if it was truly impossible for him to ever learn to love you.

“Suguru,” you instinctively clutch his hand as if by him squeezing your hand back, you could miraculously be put together again. You were so heartbroken that you didn't even realize that you just called him by his name, forgoing the mention of his venerable title. “…I-I…” you gulp as you feel the dreaded words lodge deep in your throat, clogging your airways with uncried sobs.

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m so sorry…”

“…Where’s Satoru?”

water’s edge taglist: @dummyf @kentokaze @esthelily @mandysfanfics @userbananababes @strawberryjimin13 @snowprincesa1 @naturallyspontaneous @kooromin @gojoist @dcvilxswish @13-09-01 @peachipeachy @iluv-ace @sawendel @helloitsshitzulover @jjuniescuderia @ackermendick @starrylibras @timetobegone @heelariously @idktbhloley @jeon-blue @8aif9sgbsnn @purpleguk @rednezvous @yeseurri @floralsightings @yoheyyosup @dontwannacry04 @dragonladyy

REBLOGS AND INTERACTIONS IS WHAT KEEPS AUTHORS GOING SO SHOW SOME LOVE ✨💕 mwah! see you all in episode 2.5!

504 notes · View notes

baiwu-jinji · 18 days

Text

TGCF author's notes translation

@/camilikha on twitter kindly provided links to TGCF author's notes and I translated the ones I find informative and interesting. See translations below:

chapter 58 notes: The second book is all about the overconfident Xie Lian with delusions of grandeur and the tender little flower (mxtx means kid Hua Cheng) and their diaries of the downfall of Xianle. Word count is undecided, I'm never accurate at estimating word counts anyway. It's just like the xianxia I write doesn't fit into your regular xianxia, the royalty I write doesn't fit into your regular fictional depictions of royalty - just the outlandish made-up worlds and social customs in the author's imagination...

chapter 60 notes: If we put Qi Rong in a modern context, we could say that he has bipolar disorder.

chapter 72 notes: about the chapter title "To Meet You in the Mortal Realm; to Find Flowers Beneath the Rain" - eventually I feel that "To Meet You" is more romantic than "To Meet Someone". Just think about it, "meeting you" is one of the most romantic things in the world.

chapte 80 notes: Of course (HC) won't give (XL) a handjob or help him [...], but Huahua's sexual awakening starts with this incident... (XL is seriously obssessed with martial arts combat!)

chapter 88 notes: Xie Lian never gets tanned, I envy him... I finally reached this place - in a dilapidated temple, a god about to be forgotten and a believer who's still young - this is the first mental image I have about this story, which drove me to wrote the story. I'm the kind of person who'd make up a whole book just to get to write a certain passage...

chapter 119 notes: Actually Huahua is just being naughty and wants to joke around playing dead, who'd have thought...

chapter 123 notes: So Black Water made his appearance long ago, he's been hanging around before your eyes all along. Wind Master never knew the real Mingyi, it's always been the same person before him - and before you readers. (Black Water) officially recognized as Best Actor of this story! I've been holding it a secret for so long and so has he, now I can finally let it out.

chapter 141 notes: If you heat up Huahua in the kiln, he'll grow bigger~

chapter 175 notes: "Hua Cheng! Your diary! We've read it all!!!"

chapter 229 notes: Huahua low-key sucking up to the elderly to make a good impression

chapter 242 notes: Why do you like to spook yourselves? - why on earth would there be such plots as (XL) waiting for another 800 years - too long, impossible! Happy ending is around the corner!

SVSSS is my first work so it has some exceptions that I won't discuss here, but MDZS and TGCF both only have one main couple. I said this repeatedly in the author's notes when MDZS was being serialized and in other places. As for Mo Xuanyu, he is a little gay dude but he died at the beginning of the story so he doesn't count as a serious character...It's fine to have headcanons you like as long as you don't seperate the main couple. But for me personally, my taste leans towards having only one gay couple in the story, and I have no plans to write about another secondary couple. I'm stating this to avoid some unnecessary disputes.

XL is good at making pickled vegetables. Because pickled vegetables are needed with steamed bun and rice porridge, so XL became quite experienced after practicing for hundreds of years. Also you can just leave the pickled vegetable by itself most of the time and let it undergo chemical reaction. XL mostly fail because he get inventive.

XL and Mu Qing chose the same path of cultivation and are both Daoists. But Feng Xin never studied under a master at the Holy Royal Pavillion so he's not a Daoist and simply a plebeian martial god, so he doesn't need to observe the celibacy rules like XL and Mu Qing.

My passion for inventing new dishes (or rather weapons) cooked by Xie Lian is only slightly less than my passion for making Huahua change into new clothes

Huahua often turn into human forms, in which he has two eyes, so you guys can stop counting the number of his eyes.

In the setting of this story, if you want to be a god,you need to be a human hero first, which means you need to be the best of the best among humans. Only heaven officials who ascended are real heaven officials and belong in the Upper Court. How do you ascend? Firstly it depends on your personal ability, you have to be outstanding in some aspect (such as martial arts or literary talents) to enter the path of ascension. Secondly it depends on luck, if you're extremely lucky and a favourite of fate, and just picked up some rare secret guides (to ascension) or immortal pills by the roadside, that works too. Officials in the Middle Court are appointed, which means someone in the Heavenly Realm could promote you to that position. But Middle Court officials have the opportunity to become a bona fide Upper Court official too if they're capable enough.

Black Water indeed owes Hua Cheng a huge sum of money and is a very impoverished Calamity, seriously lowering the income standard of the Calamities (although there're only three of them). But his debt isn't completely due to eating too much. As for the money Black Water owes, it's an ancient debt - 40% is the cost of buying gifts for heaven officials of Upper Court and planting agents there (bribery!), 30% is maintenance fee for his territory and expenses on pet food, the rest 30% is food (for himself).

Talismans are probably the equivalent of the business cards (of heaven officials)... "Hello this is my consecrated talisman" = "hello this is my business card"

You can't get rid of ghostly essence (which XL is tainted with because he spends too much time with HC) simply by brushing your teeth with plain water...you need to use consecrated spell water (which is super bitter and weird).

The weapon forged by a heaven official is called fabao (literally "dharma treasure"); if it's a weapon forged by mortal Daoists and monks, it's called faqi (literally "dharma tool") - only after their ascension can their weapons be called fabao.

In my imagination, Xianle ia the kind of small ancient kingdom that's overall culturally Han, but has peculiar customs...although I feel like what I wrote on Xianle is mostly just peculiar hahahaha [facepalm] [beat myself up]

Not only are the forms, customs, cultures, and politics of countries in this story made-up, the kind of arcane stuff like occult sciences and philosophical values are all made-up. Although I did research but the records I consulted are too difficult to understand, so I just made things up on my own. Please bear with me If you're knowledgable in this sort of thing hahaha.

Puqi refers to water chestnut.

Look up "Blood-Soaked Fire Social" (xue she huo) if you're interested, it exists in real life and is very thrilling. What I wrote is different from the traditional festival, there're some made-up elements to make it more exciting

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian

226 notes · View notes

iwritenarrativesandstuff · 8 months

Text

Actually I might as well add onto my thoughts and opinions on what's going on with skk right now.

[ID: A screenshot from Bungou Stray Dogs Season 5 Episode 10. Dazai sits against the metal wall, holding his injured shoulder. His blood is spattered on the wall behind him. He looks up at Chuuya, who is standing before him with a gun to his head. End ID.]

I still think the drowning in 101 was a trap set by Dazai for Fyodor before he knew Chuuya would be there - it would be weird for him to sacrifice his partner and I see no reason he would flashback to some of their memories and have such a choked voice otherwise. Dazai is not like Mori. This has been long established since Dark Era - he is selfish, and thus bad at actually making the sacrifice play with someone he has an actual connection with. I think the trap was set, Dazai had no choice but to follow through, but hoped that Chuuya would break control and escape. He tries a speech which seems like it's going to be a very genuine farewell... only to switch tacks and play it off as though he doesn't care. I do think there was a possibility Chuuya could've died in that scene... but Dazai was deeply hoping he wouldn't.

Seems a silly thing, for Dazai to be relying on hope so much as a master strategist, but you have to remember that Dazai has a near unshakeable trust in Chuuya. He thinks very highly of him, and has a "Chuuya can push through anything" kind of mentality that he's had since they were teenagers. Of course Chuuya can break through the vampire brainwashing! He just needs the right impetus!

So we have Dazai do what he does best - try to piss off Chuuya. The "sorry there weren't any", the goading him into punching him - this is very typical behaviour for these two, and it might've actually worked if it weren't for Fyodor's intervention.

"Good-bye!" is probably a plan. It's the same name as one of Dazai-sensei's works (his last, unfinished work, in fact...), and we know Double Black's plans are named after the author's stories/poems. Note that it comes right after the first goading he does, when Chuuya is more likely to be agitated and thus aware. But also note that, if this is indeed a plan, then it's a little strange for it to be named after only Dazai's story, without incorporating Chuuya's. Their plans are named after combinations of their works' titles, remember? So, it can be reasonably assumed that this plan is solely Dazai's, that it's possible he came up with it on the fly, and that he is desperately trying to get Chuuya on board.

Unfortunately, the usual goading isn't working, so Dazai turns to something he only very rarely uses, and rarer still to Chuuya's face - and that is sincerity. He's trying to reach him, and I really think that's genuine. He's changing tactics, trying something else - because a) this plan won't work without Chuuya, and b) Chuuya is being mind controlled and you cannot convince me that Dazai isn't still royally pissed off about that. He needs to snap him out of it, now.

Even if this is a plan Dazai came up with on the fly, Chuuya will be able to catch on quickly and go along with it - but only if he is actually conscious enough to do so. Double Black's plans can only work when they are both on the same page, and right now - that's more than a little ambiguous. Dazai actually has no real way of knowing whether or not Chuuya heard him, or even if he did, if he is capable of acting on it - but Dazai's faith in Chuuya is so strong that he naturally assumes Chuuya can break through it. Having him shoot him like that came as a genuine shock.

Fyodor implicitly accuses Dazai of underestimating his partner... but I think it's the exact opposite. Dazai is so used to Chuuya being able to struggle through anything that for him apparently not to be able to in this situation is genuinely blindsiding.

It appears that Dazai, too, has been relying on Chuuya's strength.

Tldr: There is a plan, but it is solely Dazai's, not a typical joint skk plan and he has been trying to communicate it to Chuuya and break past the brainwashing - which means Dazai is actually being horribly genuine right now. Unfortunately... it doesn't seem like Chuuya is conscious enough to participate in this plan at the moment (though possibly conscious enough to, like Akutagawa, prevent himself from making a killing blow).

#storyrambles #bsd #bsd season 5 #bsd spoilers #i'm actually real curious to see how this goes.#i'm not sure how we're wrapping this up... i'm scared... D:#bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #soukoku #skk #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.

891 notes · View notes

changbunnies · 11 months

Text

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 receiving), 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, but 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, 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.

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” and 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 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 thankfully 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, at least. 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 aggression. 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, and 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 feeling, 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 and effectively rubbing 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 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.

and that's all for this one shot ! i hope you enjoyed it :) i couldn't decide which ending would be best out of the ones i had ideas for, so i decided to leave it more open ended. i personally want them to live happily ever after following this, but you can leave it up to your imagination!

if there's interest i might make a part two that explores one of the endings i had in mind (most likely the angsty one if i'm being honest because it'd be much longer than a purely happy ending) so lmk if you'd like to read that and i'll work on it!

i'd also like to say, this was originally not the chan story in my drafts i was going to post first but i got really inspired during the writing and ended up finishing it before the other one, so expect yet another chan x reader in (possibly) the near future :')

and lastly, i once again want to say thank you so much for all the sweet things you've all said about my writing so far !! i didn't expect to get such kind feedback and i appreciate it sm <3

#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

1K notes · View notes