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foxymoxynoona · 2 years

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To Kill A King (CH. One)

Banner and linebreaks by the talented @awrkives

Summary: What's more charming than Prince Seokjin? Nothing, obviously. Except maybe the rotating palace guests who each smile and bow and charm in an attempt to hide their true motives. Fortunately Seokjin has a close circle of friends (well, servants) who watch his back and endure his humor and help him navigate the tumultuous seas of heartbreak, love, and an arranged marriage, not necessarily in that order. If only they had helped him keep a closer eye on his bride-to-be's handmaiden, who arrives with her own agenda... or maybe it would have been better if he had noticed her less? One thing is certain as this royal drama of the heart plays out: there are many people competing to kill a king.

Main Pairing: Prince Seokjin x Female OC Characters: Bodyguard JK, Valet Jimin, Stablehand Taehyung, Cook Yoongi, Tutor Hoseok, Princess OC, Maid OC, ?? Namjoon. Other pairings but I'm not giving away who yet 😉

Genre: Historical Fantasy World, political conspiracy, romance

Rating: 18+

Content Warnings & story tags: includes explicit sex (mxf, fxf), possibly graphic violence/injury later, love and sex triangles or uh quadrangles?, sort of e 2 l, sort of bodyguard trope, sort of arranged marriage, a lot of plotting murder (it's literally in the title), maybe character death, grief, pining, angst, love, oral (f receiving), I don't know everything yet as the story is long and still being written,

Ch. 1 Wordcount: 11k

Seokjin met his own gaze in the mirror, holding out his arms as his footman Jimin slid his silk coat up one arm and then the other.

“Your arm span is too wide, hyung,” Jimin snickered, ducking under and coming around in front of him, effectively blocking his critical stare down. Jin looked down at him, smirking. Jimin shook his head, “It doesn’t reach your eyes, you don’t have to pretend right now, you know. No one can see you yet.”

“You can’t see me?”

“I can see you,” Jungkook called helpfully from where he sprawled in Jin’s desk chair, tossing and catching a heavy glass paperweight with a whip of his arm.

“Don’t break that,” Jin immediately scolded, turning to wag his finger. “It’s a priceless family heirloom!”

“Stay still,” Jimin grumbled, ducking under again so he could do up the buttons.

Jungkook leveled a look at him and argued, “Priceless! It’s from that glass-blowing shop--”

“Worth more than your salary! The glass has the spirit of my ancestors fused inside!”

“I’m well-paid,” Jungkook said and tossed the paperweight onto the desk. It landed heavily but sounded like it did more damage to the fine mahogany than to the glass.

“Turn,” Jimin ordered, nudging Seokjin back around to face the mirror. “Ah… I should have starched the ruffles more--”

“I thought they’re supposed to be floppy.”

“We don’t want the future queen to think you’re floppy ,” Jimin scoffed. “No, no, it’s all wrong, let’s take it off and put the other one on.”

“But isn’t that one cream? Jimin, you know what cream does to my complexion…” Seokjin teased. Jimin did not look amused.

“You look perfectly fine in cream.”

“Perfectly fine! I don’t need to be fine , I need to be perfectly perfect!” Jin corrected. But he did strip the jacket off and untied the white shirt, tossing it onto a chair after he’d tugged it over his head. His hair was slow to settle after the disturbance, and he surveyed the soft style in the mirror. With his broad shoulders and trim waist disappearing into the silk black pants, he thought he looked pretty damn good.

Jimin, meanwhile, was monologuing, “Of course you need to look perfect. You will, hyung. She’ll be dazzled --more dazzled than if you emptied the treasury onto the floor right in front of her.”

“I hope we have more in the treasury than can be dumped onto the floor like that,” Seokjin laughed. Still, he appreciated the support. It kept him docile as the new shirt was put on; the ruffles stood up nice and stiff , as required by Jimin. The blue silk of the jacket still contrasted nicely with the cream, which picked up more of the gold threads shot through the silk. Jimin buttoned his cuffs and he untwisted the lace spilling from them as Jimin grabbed a brush.

“Keep it light,” Seokjin told him, flopping down into the chair so Jimin could reach better. He pulled his own shoes on in the meantime, then tugged at the lace cuffs again.

“Don’t futz with that,” Jimin scolded. “Hobi will get after you.”

“I only futz when I’m nervous and why would I be nervous? I’m only meeting the woman who is to be my wife in six months. Perfectly ordinary day. Not a thing bothering me.”

Jimin grabbed his arm and frowned, “Maybe we should change to a shirt without frills--”

“Don’t take my frills,” Jin quickly begged. “I need this.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but pulled his hand away and asked, “Jewelry?”

“Wear the long earring,” Jungkook suggested. “It looks good.”

“He’ll fiddle with it.”

“I will not!”

“It will distract her from his ears going red,” Jungkook continued.

“What is he saying? Don’t say that! Why are you saying things at all, you’re a body guard, you’re supposed to just guard my body and not say anything like that around my future wife!”

Jungkook had moved to the window and glanced out it, arms crossed as he sighed, “You’re boring to guard, no one ever tries to hurt you.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin frowned.

“Yah! I’m sorry you’re bored with your cushy job guarding the handsomest prince in the realm but--”

“Maybe today will be exciting. All these new people…” He drew closer and reached out to flick Seokjin’s earring once it was threaded through. The long gold and diamond chain swung as Jin batted him away.

“Ok, stand and let’s see you,” Jimin said, pushing Jungkook out of the way. Despite being taller and bulkier, the younger man let himself be moved so that Seokjin could stand. Both of them faded into the background as he stood before the mirror.

“Make up?” Jimin asked, knowing the answer. It was the style, certainly, but Seokjin had already decided to forego it for today. All of it. He wanted to meet his bride as himself. He wanted her to see from the start that while he was part of this whole thing, he would never be anything but honest and forthright and kind to her. He couldn’t be sure what she had heard about himself or his father, since she came from a principality across the wide Mebbe River, or what things might have been distorted about what sort of husband his father had been. He had been a good one, whatever other criticisms some might have about King Dong-gun. There certainly had been none of the late Queen So-yeon. She had been kind-hearted, outspoken, a bleeding heart, and very, very beautiful. The people had loved her. King Dong-gun had loved her. But no one had loved her as much as Seokjin had.

Damn, he really wished his mother was here for this today. On the day he was meeting his future wife, the woman he would spend his whole life with, who would someday be queen of the people his mother had dedicated her entire life to, short as it wound up being.

“Make up,” Seokjin said, a little subdued as he sat back in the chair.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, it’s the style,” he insisted. “I’m meeting my wife today. I need to look my best.”

“What about–”

“Enough.”

The word silenced Jimin and Jungkook both. Seokjin didn’t look at them. They couldn’t understand, even if they were friendly. Their life had limitations but nothing compared to his. After a time working for him, they would leave him and go on their way and meet their own wives and fall in love and live freely. The only people who would ever understand him were his father, uninterested in any sort of close, emotional conversation, and his wife.

He needed this to go well.

“You’re doing that blinking thing,” Jungkook whispered as he slid past Seokjin to take his position flanking him a meter on the left.

Seokjin knew what he meant. He tried to concentrate and not do “that blinking thing” because his father loathed that about him. He’d been in constant trouble about it and once his mother wasn’t there to intervene, the punishments became so constant that he had developed a brief nervous stutter to go along with it and picked his lips bloody. The stutter was now banished, thanks to years with the father-son deportment and etiquette tutors who had “finally been able to shape him into something with a dash of grace,” as his father said. His lips were soft and smooth and perfectly pouted.

But the blinking thing returned when he was tired or nervous or over-worked. Like now, when he was all three things. Why wouldn’t he be all three things? There had been much to do to prepare for the arrival of the Prince and Princess of Marvono and their allegedly beautiful daughter. His bride. Well, fiance. Bride to be.

He was going to mess this up.

As if reading his mind, Hoseok bowed and drew close to fix his collar and encouraged quietly, “You look handsome and you’ll do great.”

“Of course I look handsome,” Seokjin quipped, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“You’ll have her dazzled from the first look. Just be your charming self like we practiced.”

“If I had to practice, it’s not really myself.”

A flicker of a stern look crossed Hoseok’s face before he smiled again brightly, then scurried away as King Dong-gun sauntered up the stairs.

“Father,” Seokjin greeted, bowing.

Dong-gun grinned and patted him on the shoulder, “Are you shitting yourself?”

“Hoseok told me it’s bad form.”

Dong-gun laughed, “Yes. Don’t do that. The women don’t like it. Now that you finally have one, you’ll understand.” Yes. Yes, because Seokjin couldn’t have guessed that regardless of whether or not he’d been with a woman before (he had.)

His father had cut it close, but then, a king waited on no one, everyone waited on a king. The trumpets from the courtyard gates echoed through the city over unfamiliar drums that had been going on for some time, the arrival announcement that the Marvono royal party brought with them lauding their presence from the moment they entered the furthest city gate. Seokjin felt the drums and trumpets like they were perched on his shoulder shouting into his ear, louder and louder. His hands shook so he tucked them into his pockets, but the pockets were a little high and he could see on Jimin’s face at the side of the dais that it looked awkward, so he put them behind him instead, the same way Jungkook was standing, because it looked powerful and strong. His shoulders were even broader than Jungkook’s. But women always loved Jungkook, what if his betrothed fell in love with his bodyguard? That sounded like something straight out of a Kalamouche novel…

“The Prince and Princess of Marvono have arrived,” a herald announced at the furthest doors of the palace. “They are dismounting now.”

“Shall we go to the courtyard to meet them there?” Seokjin asked his father. Often they met guests there so they could walk in together.

His father curled his lip and corrected, “No. This is a Prince who owes fealty to us and the daughter he brings to marry my son. They will come to us.”

That was exactly the reason Seokjin thought maybe they ought to fetch them. He wasn’t sure suddenly what the best first impression was to make. This was more formal, to be sure, but did he want that layer of formality with the woman who would be his wife? His father spoke like it was only on offer but actually the betrothal had been brokered years ago and was a done deal. They could back out now but it would be… bad. It would be a bad look for the royal family to cast aside a woman after they’d made her wait so long for marriage –Seokjin was nearing thirty now and the woman was only a few years younger, late for a Prince’s daughter to be wed. And to be cast aside, if she decided she didn’t like him after all… well, it would devastate his ego. Yes, there were many other options, but he’d already had one betrothal fail and to have it happen again from within Yeonhabi… probably his ego would never recover, no matter how many local women swooned and smiled when he walked by. Which they did, to be clear. He was a catch!

He better understood now why his father had not been in a rush to get here. The drums had marked their slow passage through the entire capitol city to the palace on the summit, but they didn’t seem to be in any hurry from the courtyard either. Maybe they were waiting to be greeted there?

But before he could suggest it to his father a second time, the herald strode to the center of the floor and the massive doors opened at the far length of the hall and the light washed out the people marching in so that Seokjin couldn’t see anything, could only hear the click of heels and the rustle of skirts and tinkle of metal as the herald announce,

“Prince Hamisi and Princess Simisola of Marvono and their daughter, the Princess Nasimiyu.”

Seokjin watched the entourage as it approached. They were beautifully dressed, obviously here to show up and show out –clothing in the popular fashions but in bright gem tone colors that looked absolutely royal in the throne hall. He felt pale and flat in comparison, but even that didn’t prepare him for Nasimiyu, walking in between her parents as an equal.

“Her hair is big,” his father mused in a quiet voice that Seokjin hoped was quiet enough not to echo around the hall. It was true, one of several amazing qualities immediately observable.

Seokjin tried to neither stare nor blink and failed at both as he admitted, “She’s beautiful.” He’d seen a drawing of her once but had no way of knowing how accurate it was. The nation of Yeonhabi was vast and Marvono was far to the north and his father had never allowed him to leave Priva anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to leave the city, much less the kingdom.

Nasimiyu was tall, her arms and legs long and willowy but not clumsy when she bowed, not curtsied. It made her look strong. Her movements were precise, graceful, and confident. Her right hand tinkled with the sounds of her gold bracelets when she ushered her skirt to the side so she wouldn’t trip. A gold and emerald crown nestled in the halo of her curls, trying its damndest but failing to draw Seokjin’s attention from the confident smile as the princess lifted her face.

Damnit, a confident woman. That was obvious. With the beauty and wealth and probably the brains to back up the confidence. Seokjin was immediately intimidated. It flustered him so badly, in fact, that he bowed as well.

“Seokjin,” his father hissed and he quickly straightened.

“Ha, but,” he said, loud enough to be heard, “Father, the Prince and Princesses are to be family with us. A deserving husband greets his wife as respectfully as if she is a queen. And Mother, Father…”

King Dong-gun was horrified, that much was clear. The Royal Prince bowing to a mere princess in this context was unheard of. He didn’t have to look over to feel the forced smile of the Jungs at this faux pas. Seokjin was too embarrassed to look over at the Prince and Princesses but knew his only hope of survival was to stick the landing.

Suddenly Prince Hamisi laughed. His face lit up with a smile as he wagged his finger and argued, “You aren’t married yet! But the respect is welcome. I am a very stern father-in-law!” Nothing about his smile seemed stern, though, nor his body language as he opened his arms in a wide gesture. Both women beside him gave him a side eye. Seokjin felt like he read a closeness, an amusement, in just that quick interaction, but maybe he was reading too much. As an only child with a dead mom and a busy father, he tended to enviously read closeness in every family he saw. The suggestion he might marry into such a family made his nerves sharper.

King Dong-gun was talking, welcoming them to Priva, but Seokjin didn’t listen to it. He tried to study Nasimiyu without staring. He tried not to blink. He tried not to fidget. She was the kind of woman who made even a royal prince fidget. She looked perfectly calm and comfortable and not at all intimidated even though King Dong-gun and Seokjin were standing on the dais above them and it was the proper thing to do, to look a little impressed. Maybe she was an intimidating, mean kind of woman?

But her smile looked so nice and warm as King Dong-gun began to walk down the stairs and Seokjin hurried to keep up.

The King and the Prince clasped hands and elbows now, grinning like old friends. Seokjin knew Prince Hamisi was his father’s favorite of the princes and that was why his daughter wound up being accepted for this betrothal. Not that everyone had daughters of the right age, but when King Dong-gun had begun looking for a bride for Seokjin, there had been enough interested parties to soothe Seokjin’s ego from that earlier slight, almost back to his old self. Seokjin had agreed to an arrangement at a time he didn’t feel his best but he was a man of his word so he’d see it through. Love could grow out of respect. Hoseok had told him that once and he believed it, even if Hoseok was single and probably didn’t know what he was talking about.

Nasimiyu was going to make that very easy. She dazzled him as King Dong-gun continued,

“Please, let us show you to your suites so you can rest after your long journey. When you are ready, my son will be glad to show you around the palace grounds. You may wander wherever you like.”

“Anywhere?” Prince Hamisi clarified with a mischievous glint in his eye.

King Dong-gun replied simply, “We have nothing to hide. As my son said, we will be family soon. Please, make yourself at home.”

“We shall. Thank you for the warm welcome.”

The Prince and his wife turned and Seokjin had a fleeting panic because they were walking away and he hadn’t said a word to Nasimiyu. This greeting had been so short. Yes, they had just traveled many days to get here and deserved to refresh themselves, but he’d wanted to make a dazzling introduction and wasn’t sure that he had. If Nasimiyu didn’t leave with a good first impression, he’d have to work extra hard to make up for lost ground later and what if he didn’t?

“Princess Nasimiyu,” he called just as she started to turn after her parents. She paused and glanced down at the hand he held out before slipping her fingers against his palm. “Before you rest, please accept my welcome. It is an honor to finally meet you. If you have need of anything while you are here, please let me know and I will personally see it is done.” It was kind, but this woman was going to be his wife . “I hope you will be very happy here,” he added.

She arched an eyebrow and suggested, “Maybe you can show me where here is after I wash the dust from my skin.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, I forgot to mop before you got here…” He meant it as a joke. She just raised her eyebrows.

Oh no. She doesn’t think I’m funny.

“Nasimiyu,” her father called.

“I looked forward to the tour of your palace,” she told him. He braced himself for the coolness, but instead she gave him another confusingly warm smile. But she’d said your , like it would never be hers . Or, well, ours . And someday it would be. Someday she’d be queen here. Queen of all Yeonhabi. He would be King!

A King who couldn’t tell from his future-queen’s face if she thought anything about him at all.

He stood there as the throne room emptied, turning as Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok flocked to him. He wore a confident smile, and slowly lifted his arms wide like Prince Hamisi had done, and announced,

“I think it was pretty clear she liked me.”

“She did, Your Royal Highness,” Jimin agreed, bowing and nodding. “She did.”

“How could she help it, right? With a face like this and charm like mine?” He looked to Jungkook and Hoseok for confirmation. Jungkook gave a short nod, lips pursed and shoulders squared as he looked around the hall, making a show of checking for threats as the Marvono’s entourage began to roam, ushered around by the royal palace staff. They’d brought their own handmaids and butlers and some guards and who knew what else, it was really a lot considering they could provide anything they needed…

“It’s good to see you’re as confident as ever, but we should fix your makeup before you give the tour, your ears are redder than I’ve ever seen them,” Hoseok suggested, motioning to JImin to lead him away.

Yes, confident. He was confident. He knew these three, whom he considered as much of friends as a Prince could have, saw through it and were too kind to comment. Seokjin had been faking his father’s confidence since he was a little boy. He didn’t know any other way to be.

He hoped it would be enough to convince Nasimiyu.

“The palace was built in 1425,” Seokjin said, gesturing across the garden back towards the main building, white stone against the bluest sky. “The white stone was brought here over many years from Rinsk, where King Chin-ae’s wife was born. He accepted the stone as her dowry. It was a joke at the time that he was paid rocks for his bride which he, uh, did not find very amusing…”

Nasimiyu quirked her eyebrow at the story, like she did for most of Seokjin’s jokes. It was beginning to fluster him. Apparently he was so sweaty that Jimin had approached and tried to offer a lie –that his father was looking for him– so he could break away and sit down. But he didn’t need a break, he needed to keep powering through until Nasimiyu and her parents felt welcome here, and he’d made a good first impression, and he could feel like he’d met her. They’d eaten lunch together and toured the palace grounds for almost two hours now and she’d barely said a word. She was judicious with her words, he could already see, because when she did make a comment, it was striking and intelligent and impressive. And when she didn’t make a word, she could convey a thought with just her face.

Seokjin’s plan was to double down on impressing her parents. They both seemed to enjoy the tour, even though Prince Hamisi had wanted to know why King Dong-gun wasn’t joining them. Seokjin’s quip that he was the betrothed had earned him a polite nod from the Princess.

“If I were to pay my daughter’s dowry with something from my kingdom, what would you ask?” Prince Hamisi asked. He had a friendly smile and walked with his arms folded across his belly in a casual way for a Prince, but Seokjin felt threatened. Which he shouldn’t because he was the royal prince. He glanced at Jungkook, one of four guards accompanying the party, but his own guard was just still busy sizing up the other guards like he was bored and dying for a fight. It had been such a long time since there had been an attempt on Seokjin’s life. Maybe Jungkook would get too bored and leave him…

He saw by Jimin’s raised eyebrows he’d been asked a question and quickly recalled himself. He put on a pensive look, staring up at the sky to consider carefully.

“Medicine,” he finally said. “I understand you have some of the most advanced doctors in the world. A dowry of doctors and medicine would be far more valuable than gold,” Seokjin answered. His heart danced in his chest, proud of his answer both because it was true and because it made him look good, he could see that on all three of their faces.

“I expected you would say sand,” Nasimiyu admitted with a small nod of her head.

Prince Hamisi meanwhile mused, “I shall talk to your father, see if he can change the terms of the agreement?”

“If he would, you would hear no complaints on my part, Sir. We have plenty of gold anyway…” Thinking of his father’s face if Prince Hamisi brought this plan to him almost made Seokjin laugh. King Dong-gun would never go for it, and would never agree they had plenty of gold, and would certainly not appreciate Seokjin discussing the terms of the betrothal without him. There were in fact other things wrapped up in the arrangement besides gold, but not doctors or medicine. More like trade agreements, tax adjustments, that kind of thing.

Worried now that this would all lead him into trouble with his father, he quickly dismissed the serious nature of his answer and added, “Sand would be welcome too. We could line our streets with it. It’s hard to walk in so I suspect we would all get very shapely legs and Priva could become known for it…”

“Do you think our legs shapely, Your Royal Highness?” Princess Simisola asked. Her daughter looked very, very much like her, which made it doubly intimidating.

Seokjin couldn’t see their legs under their long, finely-pleated gowns, and so answered, “I suspect you are all perfect in every regard as fits leaders of your station, but before you discount me, you must notice that I too have very strong, shapely legs. That’s because there are 2,183 steps in this palace.”

“Is that a fact for the palace tour as well?” Nasimyu asked.

“I counted them myself,” Seokjin bragged, before adding with a grin, “I can count very well, Princess.”

“What a relief,” she said, clever but smiling like she didn’t find him that amusing.

Damnit.

He decided to show them through the sea-side garden then, even though it was down about a hundred stairs. They said they were up for it. It was Seokjin’s favorite part of the palace, actually, and he hoped maybe Nasimiyu would love it too.

At the bottom of the stairs into the garden, he turned to make sure she was all right on the stairs; her handmaiden walked beside her, their arms clasped, and now he realized he ought to have offered his arm as Prince Hamisi had done to Princess Simisola because it was a steep climb. He had just been thinking about whether to amp the jokes up or down. Many had advised him to roll them back until she got used to him, and that had even been his plan, but she was just… she was a lot more beautiful than he had anticipated! And the reality he was not going to be the most beautiful in his marriage was a difficult pill to– see?! He couldn’t even not make jokes in his own thoughts…

This garden cleared his head though. Midway down the major hill upon which the palace was built, it was not often visited, even though he thought it was by far the most beautiful garden on the palace grounds. His mother had designed it and spent a great deal of time in it herself, hands in the soil up to her elbows as she worked alongside the gardeners to keep it nice. The ocean glittered like a blanket of diamonds on the other side of the blue and red rooftops of the city below, the salty scent of it carried in on a breeze. Near the docks stunk but up here the ocean scent was crisp and nice and not overpowering.

“The scent of the sea is very strong,” Princess Nasimiyu mused, coming to a standstill beside him at the upper tier’s railing.

Seokjin felt himself deflate. She didn’t like it here, that’s what he understood from their interactions so far. She didn’t like the ocean. She didn’t appreciate the flowers. She found his humor obnoxious. She thought the stairs and white stone were too much. She asked why the palace was so inefficiently built on the top of a mountain.

“What does your home smell like?” he asked to give himself time to think.

She tilted her head at the question, like she hadn’t expected it. It was a rather odd question, except she had just commented on the smell of his!

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never smelled anything different. It just smells like home… fresh linen and warmth and spicy food and aromatic meat.” A beat and then, “Yes?”

He thought she’d meant him, but instead her handmaiden added, “It smells of cumin and red chili peppers and oranges and laundry soap.”

“Yes, the oranges are nice… I don’t believe you have citrus here.”

“We ship them in…” he admitted. “We are never short on the fruits we want.”

“But it doesn’t compare to–” She broke off and glanced at her handmaiden, then smiled, “It’s a good location for accessing everything you could want from any of the principalities.”

“Yes…”

“This garden is beautiful,” Princess Simisola called as she and the Prince strolled past. “Come look at these blossoms, Nasimiyu.”

Seokjin trailed them, answering their questions about any flowers they weren’t familiar with. He explained his mother’s connection to the garden, and how the sunset in the evening was perfect. He knew he sounded romantic, that was the point. Women loved romance! And flowers, and the sea, right?

He sent Jimin a glance; he followed along a bit behind Jungkook. Jimin just gave him an encouraging smile, not that sympathetic grimace as if things were going up in flames. Maybe to someone not in his head, it looked like he was doing better than he feared?

“These will be lovely in Nasimiyu’s hair for the wedding,” Princess Simisola said, pausing to point at a tree branching out over an ornately carved bench.

“Magnolias,” Seokjin said. He stepped around them and broke one of the blossoms off. He showed it to them, then raised his hands to tuck it into Nasimiyu’s hair.

She quickly pulled it from his hands and corrected, “I can do that myself.” The correction stung and he stared blankly at her, confused and embarrassed. Just as quickly, she smoothed it over, saying, “Thank you for the flower. I have to tuck it in just right…”

“Of course,” he gave a slight bow. All right, fair enough, he shouldn’t assume he could touch a woman’s hair he’d just met… He saw Jimin sweating it out nearby and realized Hoseok had also materialized from somewhere. Jungkook , meanwhile, was waving away a bee that had left a bud to hum instead around his face.

Nasimiyu let her hands drop away, the large flower nestled high in her curls.

“Ah, yes, you make the flower look good,” he praised. “I’m afraid it will wilt quickly, it will throw a tantrum because magnolias are used to being the most beautiful flower but now it’s eclipsed by your face.”

Jungkook stopped waving at the bee and screwed his face up and tilted his head in confusion. Unappreciated! Seokjin laughed uncomfortably and gestured for everyone to move. Nasimiyu just looked at him, before bobbing her head.

“Thank you… I think…”

If she was less beautiful, I could give a better compliment , he sighed. He was good at flattery! Flattery was only hard if you were afraid of looking like a fool, and Seokjin wasn’t, or if you felt like praising someone else made yourself look weak, which he didn’t, or if you were afraid that drawing attention to someone else diminished your own attractiveness, which he wasn’t.

But Nasimiyu was going to be his wife. He was going to shower her with a lifetime of compliments and someday look back on this first day and laugh about how flustered he’d been by her beauty.

He hoped.

“Come,” he said, “I’ll show you the rest of the garden and then let you rest before dinner. I have to make sure you’ve worked up an appetite so you can fully enjoy our food. I know Marvono is best known for its beef and lamb dishes but our seafood is–”

“I’m allergic to lobster and shellfish,” Nasimiyu said. “I believe you were already told? I hope it’s not a problem…”

Seokjin stopped walking and looked at her with alarm.

“How allergic?”

“Pardon?”

“If you breathe near it or smell it–”

“I’d already be dead, everything smells like shellfish,” she admitted. “No, I just can’t eat it.”

“Ah, ok. That’s all right.” He glanced at JImin, who gave a small nod and ran off. Seokjin would go check in the kitchens too as soon as he deposited these guests back at their rooms, just to make absolute sure. That would need to be known. Very known. Lots of dishes around here had lobster or shellfish, seeing as lobster was his personal favorite…

He gave Nasimiyu a warm smile, “We will make sure you are absolutely safe here.”

She nodded as her parents moved on ahead, and came to Seokjin’s side, her voice lower as she said, “I also can’t kiss it.”

“Ah.” He didn’t need to see Jungkook drop his gaze and scratch his own ears, signaling to Seokjin how red his were becoming because now Nasimiyu meant– because she’d referenced– well, but it was important to know!

It was important to know that he needed to not kiss her after he’d eaten lobster or shellfish.

“Uh, for… for how long?”

“How long will I be allergic for?”

“No, I mean, how long would someone be dangerous to you after eating those foods?”

Her eyes narrowed, eyebrow arched, “Why, are you planning something?”

“Planning to avoid accidentally causing– yes,” he laughed. Had she really asked that? She must understand what he was saying, for her to have said that in the first place!

“I haven’t exactly tested it to find an exact time… Is this a problem for our marriage?”

No more lobster…

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I am glad you told me! Er, reminded me! I will make sure it becomes law around here!”

“But you can’t go telling everyone the easiest way to murder me,” she laughed.

“No, right, of course… I will simply say you dislike those things and that you shouldn’t be fed them, it will be upon pain of death for the cooks!”

“That’s…”

“Prince Seokjin, what flower is this?” Princess Simisola called. Nasimiyu looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. He took that as leave to go answer her mother, but worried, as he explained the purple heart plant, that Nasimiyu might have thought he was serious about killing the cooks.

Sun set late at this time of year, so a warm glow still flooded through the floor-length windows of the gilded dining hall as dinner was officially served. Though on a normal day the royal family might choose to eat at-will in the palace’s cafeteria hall or be served privately in the royal dining room, the arrival of their very special guests (and very large traveling party) instead saw all seated together in the dining hall.

King Dong-gun never ate here, so it was strange to watch him take his place in the center of the head table at the far end of the hall. Guards lined the windows behind him, battling the gauzy curtains that billowed in the sea breeze. It was a show; usually the windows were kept boarded up because King Dong-gun didn’t want to leave his back so exposed.

Seokjin glanced to his Princess Nasimiyu seated beside him, separated from her parents who sat on his father’s other side. They weren’t the only honored guests in attendance; at any given time there were plenty of lords and ladies who dined here, eager to partake of the fine palace kitchens at the low low cost of free. However the first night of their visit was cause for a grand showing, and so even King Dong-gun attended in full dinnerware splendor after his afternoon disappearance. Seokjin had changed outfits as well, into something more suitable for dinner but also because he’d managed to drag his wrist lace through sauce when he’d gone by the kitchens to make absolutely sure no one was about to kill his bride-to-be on her first night in the palace.

“There’s no lobster or shellfish,” he assured her the moment she lifted her spoon for the soup starter. “At the whole table.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“You are safe to eat, converse, and kiss anyone at this table,” he continued. “But I would avoid the other tables. Some rogue shellfish may have snuck into the stews being served at the further end of the hall and besides that you are… engaging but also engaged.”

She gave him a concerned look and assured him, “I am well aware of my betrothed status.”

“Of course you are,” he smiled. She did not smile. Damnit. “Ah, did the ring I sent get to you?” he asked the question he hadn’t thought of until later. “Was it not your style?”

“Oh.” For the first time she looked a little sheepish. “It was lovely, just a little too small for my finger.”

Seokjin felt a waver in his heart because that ring had been his mothers and Nasimiyu now made it sound like it had been lost or, even worse, thrown away.

“We have fine jewelers here who could resize it–”

“Yes… wait a moment.” She lifted her hand and the handmaiden with the nose for national scents came running to her shoulder. The young woman’s dark eyes only flickered to Seokjin before she ducked her head close to hear what Nasimiyu whispered to her. With a nod, she was gone again, flitting away like a little bird. “My maid will set it out for tomorrow, your jewelers can resize it.”

“Ah,” he sighed, clasping a hand to his chest. “You still have it. That’s good.”

“I do not take a gift from you lightly and I am not careless with my things.”

Seokjin grinned at her, “I shall shower you with gifts so often you may often misplace things and it will be months before you notice because you’ll be so blessed by my generosity!”

“That sounds… generous of you,” she said with a forced smile. “But I assure you, there’s no need. I am not overly concerned with gifts or jewels, I have plenty of my own.”

“Ah.” Seokjin kept his smile plastered on. Not that he trusted his own father’s advice on women much, considering as far as he knew, King Dong-gun had been with no one since his mother died, but he knew that gifts had been a constant from his father. His mother had wanted for nothing. “What things do you like? That’s something I ought to know! Is it… food? Flowers? Music?”

Nasmiiyu shifted uncomfortably as King Dong-gun laughed loudly beside Seokjin. Mostly he was trying to ignore his father, whose attention was primarily on Prince Hamisi and the servants bringing the food and drinks anyway. It was indeed rare for his father to dine in the dining hall or cafeteria with others, but when he did, he tended to be loud, nervous, and who knew what might turn his mood.

“Don’t concern yourself, he usually dines privately,” Seokjin told her, trying to reassure her this would not be her daily ordeal while also not disparaging his father. “Do you prefer the dining hall or a private dinner?”

“The dining hall,” she told him with a hand delicately over her mouth as she swallowed her food.

“Yes? Is this one all right? You can change anything about it to suit yourself once you’re the Princess here… and someday Queen!”

Something flitted across her face, he noticed it right away, before she said, “I am not overly concerned with titles, either.”

“That’s because you have one,” he smiled, trying to be clever and self-aware to impress her.

“I am not a title seeker,” she argued. “I agreed to this betrothal because I believe I can do good work here in the absence of a queen.”

Quickly Seokjin soothed, “Yes, it’s a large hole to fill but I’m sure you’ll be up to the task. I’m not very good at planning balls and I’m not very creative about entertaining guests. Visitors get tired of my garden tours and fishing trips.”

“It’s more than that– you enjoy fishing?” she asked halfway through her own remark. He belatedly realized his accidental implication, that the Queen did nothing but social things. The queen could do anything she wanted! She also oversaw education and participated in diplomacy and… and Nasimiyu could do anything she was passionate about!

But she’d thrown him a line with the question about fishing, and he decided to side-step the whole misunderstanding and confirm,

“Oh yes. That’s what I do. Ah… do you like it?” He doubted it. He doubted it very much and was not surprised when she admitted,

“No.” Just as quickly she added, “Well I have never been.”

“Ah. Well, there’s time for it later if you enjoy it…”

“I enjoy riding,” she said. That was unfortunate, because they lived on a small mountain in the middle of a city by the sea. There really wasn’t good riding until you cleared the outer walls of the capitol which was already a long ride just to get there, unless you took the backway down the hill but that was dangerous and he wouldn’t suggest it to her. “I enjoy dancing and reading and painting.”

“Ah! Lots of good things to paint here,” he assured her, and motioned to his face. He knew he shouldn’t. He screamed at himself internally to stop joking because it wasn’t working with her but it was like his mind just decided to double down. “See anything that inspires you?”

“The sea is very beautiful,” she answered. He wished she was teasing him, but she looked sincere.

At least he could agree, “Yes, it’s very beautiful. You didn’t travel here by sea though, do you want to go on it? Don’t worry, I’ll take you–”

“Is there no music tonight?” King Dong-gun shouted. “Our guests have listened to my son talk all day, they would like some music!”

Immediately Prince Hamisi answered loudly, “We do not mind whatever entertainment His Majesty provide for us, whether it’s music or conversation.”

But King Dong-gun didn’t need to ask again; within seconds the instrumentalists were set up on the dais at the far side of the hall. Seokjin already knew they had been asked not to play during dinner because the acoustics meant music overwhelmed everyone dining. He himself had been the one to ask, because he wanted to talk to his betrothed.

Apparently that was King Dong-gun’s point though, because a moment later, when beautiful but loud music crashed around the room, he leaned in and scolded in Seokjin’s ear, “Don’t talk her ear off! You’re a prince, act like it! Let her fucking eat!”

“I’m getting to know my future wife–”

“There’s time for that unless you chase her off with your jokes,” he scolded. “Is that what the Jungs guided you on? That’s not how you impress a princess. You are the future King! Act it!”

Seokjin did not think he was not acting like a future king, but he did know what his father meant. Be strong. Silent. Enigmatic. Leave some mystery. The exact opposite of Seokjin’s natural instinct. But since so far he didn’t seem to be doing well, maybe there was something to it… maybe that’s what Nasimiyu wanted…

Nasimiyu touched his arm. It gave him goosebumps just because he hadn’t expected it, even though he had a thick sleeve on so it wasn’t even skin contact. He turned to her as she leaned in close and gestured to the latest dish placed before her.

“What is this?”

“It’s skrei with braised squid and cannellini beans,” he told her, thrilled she had asked. If there was anything he could talk about with pride and knowledge, it was food! “Skrei is –maybe you aren’t familiar– it’s actually from Therepin to the south, they have icy waters full of great icy islands. They pack the fish in big carts of ice to import it –it’s a fine delicacy here.”

“And… squid.”

“Do you know what a squid is?” he asked gently.

“Yes, I know. I forgot people eat those…”

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” he grinned. And watched, waiting for her to take a bite. Yes, he picked up on the fact she was nervous about it, but she lifted her spoon under his gaze.

The dislike was obvious on her face, and if Seokjin was honest with himself, he felt a jolt of panic in that moment that this marriage was doomed. She didn’t like the food. She didn’t like the food! How was the future Queen of Priva supposed to love the kingdom if she didn’t like the food it produced?

Ok. OK, he just had to make the best of it! He’d think about this later.

For right now, he was relieved to let himself be dragged into conversation all up and down the table, even though it was awkward to call down over dishes. Not that he particularly wanted to speak with his father, who’d got going on politics –he wanted to hear Prince Hamisi’s take on each of the principalities as if they’d never talked about it before, which inevitably set someone else in the dining hall off because they had people from all over here. He knew it was a tactic his father did to put people at ease and also learn about their hot buttons and political leanings, though surely he knew those things about Prince Hamisi by now, as they’d met many times over the course of their reigns.

He thought Nasimiyu looked uncomfortable too, so in a romantic rush, he asked, “Do you want to dance?”

“RIght now?” she gave him a confused look. “There isn’t dancing.”

“It’s my palace, we can dance whenever, wherever we like, if that would amuse you more than politics. Honestly it would amuse me more too. You said you enjoy dancing.”

“I do but… not at the moment, thank you. I look forward to the ball you are planning.”

Further disappointment. Not that he particularly wanted to dance with her in the middle of dinner but he was willing to if it gave them each a reprieve to politics and food she didn’t like. But she’d rejected that too. Frankly, he was getting frustrated. He wasn’t sure if the frustration was because she seemed to be rejecting everything he offered or because she was so much more regal in doing so, leaving him looking like the juvenile fool. No wonder his father was disappointed in his showing so far.

He dipped his spoon into the desert tart and called for more wine.

“How am I going to be married to someone who doesn’t even like our food ?” Seokjin sighed, slumping back against the wall behind the counter he’d made his ass comfortable on. Jungkook leaned against the counter, eating from the plates laid out between them, new things to sample for worthiness on the palace rotating menu. Jimin stood back but had nothing to say as he devoured the kind of tarts only served to distinguished guests. Those who worked for Seokjin ate well.

“And she didn’t think I was funny or charming at all,” he added. “Right?” He motioned to Jimin and Jungkook.

“Maybe she was just tired from her long trip–” Jimin began, but Jungkook shook his head, “Yeah, she didn’t think you were funny. But you were trying too hard.”

“Listen to my bodyguard talking to me like this!” Seokjin cried, gesticulating wildly, even though he had literally just asked for it. “How dare you say I’m not funny and charming? Of course I am!”

“ I think you are,” Jungkook corrected, unbothered by the shouting. “She didn’t.” They’d known each other for too long for some scolding and shouting. Jungkook’s father had died protecting Seokjin’s father long ago and the Queen had seen to his education and training; it had been his own decision to follow in the footsteps of his father and become a royal guard. He’d earned this role after conveniently saving Seokjin’s life in a situation Seokjin preferred not to talk about and while he wasn’t Seokjin’s only bodyguard, Jungkook was his favorite, and he knew it. Not that any of the guards were scared of Seokjin. When he got seriously angry, which was rare, it tended to confuse rather than frighten people.

He sighed, wishing for a moment he was taken more seriously, knowing he didn’t really do much to get taken seriously.

“Didn’t Hoseok tell you to be dignified and sincere?” Yoongi asked. At this time of night, he was the only one left in the kitchen, though a few servants on call dozed in the rooms right off it, ready in case anyone called for something in the night. Yoongi was often the last one to leave and the first one to arrive for the day of work, disappearing in the middle of the day to get the other half of his sleep. It was an odd sleep cycle that hadn’t earned him many friends –except a Prince.

“I was dignified and sincere–”

“You joke to avoid sincerity,” Jungkook pointed out.

“I was sincere with her!”

Jimin tried again, “She’s exhausted. She traveled so long to be here. That’s why she retired immediately after dinner–”

“No, she did that because she hates me,” Seokjin grumbled, and slumped back against the wall.

Beside him, Yoongi continued to knead the bread he’d leave rising overnight. The bakers had taken care of most of that already, but Yoongi had grumbled about no one making the King’s favorite raisin bread, so now he was doing that. There was always something he fixed before he left. Despite not being the head chef nor head of kitchen, Yoongi was the glue that kept the kitchen going, and Seokjin genuinely believed it would crumble without his culinary genius. He had attention for detail and if not for a bit of politics after the last cook was… done away with… Yoongi would now be in that place. But… politics.

“She doesn’t hate you–”

“You have to say that because you’re my valet.”

“I don’t have to say it,” Jungkook argued. “But I don’t think she hates you either. She just seemed tired to me.”

Yoongi shrugged, “I didn’t see her, I don’t know anything. But I would think it’s all more overwhelming for her than it is for you.”

“Sure, but–”

Yoongi threw a handful of flour down on the mat and spoke through the cloud of it wafting up, “You’re meeting your new bride. But she’s meeting her new husband, the Prince and future King. She’s seeing her new home far away from her family. Everything is different. If you were making jokes all day maybe she just wasn’t in the mood for it.”

“I wasn’t making jokes, I was just trying to be my charming, happy self. My father was stern enough for both of us.”

But Yoongi continued, “I suggested we have some of their home foods available for dinner but King Dong-gun said no.”

“We don’t have an expert in their food here,” Seokjin pointed out. “I don’t think serving her a less good food from home would be better.”

“You underestimate me. I’ve been to Marvono.”

“You studied there?” Seokjin teased. Yoongi gave him a narrow look. Seokjin knew exactly when Yoongi had been to Marvono, and if anyone else knew, he definitely wouldn’t still be allowed to work in the palace.

“I can try to make some of the food,” he offered. “Or I can see about finding a Marvonese cook.”

Seokjin thought about this, nodding, “Yes. Both. Do both. Why not? We have to try everything.”

“Your father’s advice may be worth trying too…” JImin suggested. As Seokjin opened his mouth to launch into a tirade that Jimin would side with King Dong-gun, Jimin quickly clarified, “Let her warm up to your humor! That’s all I mean. She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know yet when you’re joking.”

“Maybe Marvonese people aren’t funny,” Jungkook shrugged.

Yoongi mumbled, “ Privans aren’t funny…”

“I’m funny,” Seokjin scoffed.

“Yes, you’re the only one,” Yoongi assured him with a wide smile revealing his sarcasm. It made Seokjin laugh and throw a fistful of flour at him. “Are you going to clean that up, Your Royal Highness?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ah!” a voice called from the doorway –Hoseok. “I hoped to find you here… Are we discussing today?”

Seokjin groaned, “Nooooo, Mr. Jung…”

“Yes, me. Would you rather I send my father?”

“No.”

“I thought the tactic we agreed on was to keep the jokes at bay for a few days –we already had intel that she doesn’t have a great enjoyment of humor!”

“Who had intel?” Seokjin huffed. “I didn’t have any intel about her! If you had intel–”

“Your father had the information, which he told me while you were standing right beside me,” Hoseok said slowly.

Seokjin sighed, “Ah, I wasn’t listening to that… Anyway, it’s not my fault. This is who I am! You want me to be someone else–”

“No, we just want you to let the Princess get to know you, which she can’t do if you brick yourself up behind jokes,” Hoseok argued. “Be sincere and honest. Demonstrate your intelligence and your competency and your knowledge of–”

“I did do that,” Seokjin defended. “I showed her the whole palace, all of it. I tried to show her my mind. Everything I said was uninteresting…”

“You made a lot of jokes,” Jungkook mumbled.

“What are you doing listening to my conversations?!”

“Listening for threats obviously.”

“Look why are you all blaming me for this? She didn’t leave me yet, it was only the first day. She was a little too tired to laugh with me but tomorrow will be fine,” he assured them, waving his hands to settle them down. “Don’t blame me, it was her fault. Go scold her.”

“Scold her for what?” Jimin took the bait.

“She was too beautiful. It was troubling. I’m supposed to be the beautiful one.”

“I think you need to go to sleep now,” Jimin laughed while Yoongi and Jungkook rolled their eyes.

Hoseok agreed, “You need to be well rested during this delicate time. I’ll walk you. Let’s talk on the way about plans for tomorrow.”

“I can make my own plans!”

“Let’s talk on the way about plans for tomorrow,” Hoseok simply repeated and motioned for him to slide down like he was still a child. And Hoseok was two years younger than him! Offensive!

Yoongi interrupted his outrage, assuring him, “I’ll find a Marvonese chef. They have currant porridge for breakfast, I’ll have some ready in the morning.”

“Thank you, Yoongi. At least one of you deserves praise!”

“Yes yes,” Hoseok nodded, as if he’d predicted every word. Maybe he had. Maybe these four individuals –all of working class, all employed by his father, all by his side because they were literally paid to be– were best of all at predicting both the sincere and the protective. His favorite people were all hired help. Should he tell the Princess that? That his only friends were paid to be that? Surely that would impress her! Or that he had been so isolated from sincere interactions with women that he didn’t really know anything about how to engage with the opposite sex? For all he knew and suspected, every woman he’d ever had any social interaction with was just pretending to be charmed because he was the son of the king. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that! So he had to rely on his deportment tutor and valet and favorite bodyguard and a mid-level cook to help him navigate these waters because his father’s guidance was so unhelpful as to make Seokjin think that actually King Dong-gun wanted him to throw the match and die alone, like he himself no doubt would at this point.

“Don’t worry,” Hoseok told him as Jimin ran ahead to make sure the room was ready for him. “Tomorrow is a new day and she’ll be dazzled.”

“Uh huh. Yes, why wouldn’t she be–”

“I mean that sincerely,” Hoseok insisted and gave Seokjin a stern look. “You need to believe it too.”

Seokjin gave him a big grin and agreed, “Yes, I believe it too. That’s the truth.”

But the truth was that Seokjin did not think anyone had ever sincerely liked him, and it did not seem likely Nasimiyu would be the first.

Nasimiyu glanced lazily over her shoulder as the door to her bedroom suite opened and then closed. She couldn’t see the door from behind the screen curved around the bathtub corner of the room but she recognized the footsteps –or lack thereof. Dulce was the quietest walker she had ever met, only partially explained by those light leather boots she wore.

Sure enough, a moment later Dulce stepped around the screen, face hidden by a massive stack of towels. Her long dark braid swung around like a whip with her quick movements as she set the towels all on a wood shelf.

“Why so many towels?” Nasimiyu asked, eying the stack.

“Because no one stops a stranger if they look like they’re about to fuck up an important errand by, say, dropping a stack of towels on the dirty floor,” Dulce answered.

“The floors are kind of dirty, aren’t they?”

Dulce arched her eyebrow and Nasimiyu sighed. She knew exactly where Dulce had come from and felt like she ought to mask her visit with the disguise of an incompetent servant.

“Well? What did my father say?”

“I think you already know, my lady,” Dulce said with a belated little curtsy. Nasimiyu didn’t care about the curtsy, though her parents certainly did. If it was up to her, curtsying wouldn’t even be a thing, but then her parents weren’t quite as radical as she was. Besides, it would look suspicious if Dulce kept forgetting to show proper deference.

“I wasn’t!” Nasimiyu sighed and let her head fall back against the rim of the tub. The water was starting to lose its warmth; she’d been sitting in it for a long time. Avoiding the chill in the air from the sea. Avoiding any social engagements in this foreign place. Avoiding the lecture she knew was waiting from her parents. Instead she’d taken the coward’s route and sent her handmaiden instead, leaving Dulce to deal with the rumors should they arise from her handmaiden leaving the private suite of the Prince. Well if rumors of an affair started, they’d find out how to work with it. It wasn’t like Dulce needed a lengthy clean reputation here.

Dulce’s mouth twitched as she settled on a wooden stool beside the tub. The other maid had sat there earlier and scrubbed the dust and salt from Nasimiyu’s body and oiled her hair to protect it, because it was all in the air. Salt and dust everywhere. Nasimiyu couldn’t believe that out of all the regions of Yeonhalbi, the Kim royal family had chosen Priva as their royal kingdom. Granted, it was in the center latitude, but still far too remote from the second ring of principalities, of which Marvono was one of them. The port was valuable when dealing with other kingdoms, sure, but for ruling his own far-too-vast territory, King whatever-his-name-had-been made a poor choice. Destin to the east would have been a better location, but it was full of flats field and poor farmers, so none of the glitz and glamor of a port city.

Nasimiyu could not remember that king’s name. She knew all the Kim kings but she didn’t want to think about them right now. She knew the promise implicit in this betrothal, that her son would be the king either after Dong-gun or Seokjin, depending on who died first. That before that she might spend time as Queen or Queen-Regent. That her home principality would be blessed by this union into the royal family after they had married only Privans nobles or foreign princesses for generations. It was all supposed to be appealing. This was the betrothal of any princess’ dreams.

“I wasn’t unkind,” Nasimiyu said again. “I was just tired and… and franky, unprepared for Prince Seokjin to be quite so…”

“He’s very handsome,” Dulce teased.

“He’s an idiot. ”

“I think you make him nervous,” Dulce said. “His ears turn red a lot and he blinks strangely, and when he does that valet of his gets all fidgety.”

“I noticed. I also noticed his bodyguard doesn’t seem to mind him closely.”

Dulce disagreed with a small shake of her head, “No, I wouldn’t say that. His reflexes are remarkably fast. I think the bodyguard plays dumb but time will tell. He also seems to tease the Prince which seems… strange.”

“Maybe they’re all dumb and this will be easy.”

“This sort of thing is never easy, Princess.”

“I know, I don’t know why I said that,” she admitted. She closed her eyes, wishing for a little more warmth from the water. But she did know why: because she was tired . This place was strange and not like home and she did not feel like herself right now.

As always, it was as if Dulce read her mind, “It’s only because you’re tired. You’ll sleep tonight and feel better for it tomorrow. There’s no rush –unless you provoke him into calling off the betrothal.”

“My parents are worried about it?”

“Oh, very,” she nodded. “Your father was railing about the egos of Kim rulers and that if King Dong-gun had seen how cold you were to his son–”

“The son didn’t seem prickly about it,” Nasimiyu argued.

“I think he was too busy being flustered by your beauty.”

“Don’t laugh,” Nasimiyu glared, smiling herself, but Dulce only grinned. She’d never heard Dulce laugh before but supposed you didn’t laugh much in that line of work.

“I’m telling the truth. So far I don’t think your parents have anything to worry about. But if you continue to be too tired to humor and entertain Prince Seokjin… I don’t know. You know more about royal egos than I do.”

“You don’t need to lecture me. Do not forget your place.”

“I won’t, my lady. But it makes my job much harder.”

“And it makes my job impossible,” Nasimiyu pointed out. “I do need to actually marry him first.”

Dulce nodded and looked at the window, which Nasimiyu had closed to try and keep out that cold sea air. Apparently the guest rooms on this side of the palace were the best ones because of that view of the sea, but Nasimiyu didn’t want it.

She closed her eyes again and let out a deep breath. She was throwing a tantrum like a child. It was beneath her. She was better than that and she would be better than that. Or she’d be no better than King Kim Dong-gun and his pompous, spoiled son, her future husband. More useful in death than in life.

“You’re right,” Nasimiyu admitted. “I’m just tired from the journey and from the work that lies ahead. I only need to sleep and I’ll be myself tomorrow.” Dulce didn’t say anything. “I’ll impress him quickly. The marriage will go through. It won’t be a problem.”

“You’re the one who sets the timeline,” Dulce shrugged.

“But we can’t do anything without the close intelligence from you. I want as brief a time as possible between my wedding and my widowhood. Don’t let us down, Dulce.”

“I won’t, your grace. You have no need to worry.”

Nasimiyu studied the young woman for a moment. They’d known each other for years by now –long enough for Dulce to know her mood by her mannerisms. Nasimiyu understood her pretty well too and yet, looking at her in her simple black dress with her simple braid and her simple leather boots, she had that familiar feeling that she didn’t actually know Dulce at all.

And yet ironically she trusted Dulce more than almost anyone in the world. She wouldn’t prefer anyone else by her side on this life-changing journey.

“Do you like it here?” she found herself asking, as if the answer mattered at all.

Dulce stood, “Cities are all the same to me, my lady. Do you want me to help you dress for bed?”

“No, call the other girl,” Nasimiyu dismissed her. “You need to rest as well. We have important work to do so that I may become the queen Yeonhalbi deserves.”

“We do,” Dulce agreed and left her, a solemn, dark shadow. Nasimiyu watched Dulce’s reflection this time in the mirror as she slipped from the room. She felt far more embarrassed by Dulce’s nod at her misbehavior than she would have been by any of her father’s shouts or mother’s scolding. No wonder they had trusted Dulce to deliver the message and not come themselves to lecture her, though she supposed her mother was also shielding her from her father’s anger. He had so much riding on her right now. His expectations had always been high for her and now they were even higher.

But she wouldn’t disappoint him. She’d do better tomorrow and Dulce would help her see it through. Too many lives depended on it. Nasimiyu had the opportunity to make the world a better place, to be right there at the head of it, and she would not fail just because she couldn’t manage the idiot prince for a few months.

MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

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onlyfreds · 3 years

Text

Blue Skies and Calm Waves | F.W.

Title: Blue Skies and Calm Waves

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Fred and Y/N return to the beach where they first confessed their feelings. Fred will be trying his luck at something else.

Warning/s: alludes to sex, mention of crashing a car into a tree

A/N: This is basically part 2 for “Sand and Sea” because I couldn’t help myself

Part 1

“Well, with the holidays coming up, why don’t we go to the beach?” Ginny suggested as all of us nodded in agreement.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Hermione said, “It’s been a while since we last went to the beach.”

“Is it the same beach we went to last time?” Fred asked, he and Ginny exchanging a look I couldn’t exactly read.

“Yep.” The youngest Weasley confirmed, “The exact same one.” She said, giving a subtle wink to her brother.

“So, when are we leaving?” George asked, clasping his hands together.

Ginny smiled, “The best time to go would be next week.”

“Is that everything we need?” I ask as Fred and I finish packing our stuff for the trip.

Fred nodded, “Yes, that’s everything.” Then he wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing his chest against my back, “Unless I can also stuff you into the suitcase.” He joked as I smacked his arm.

“Hey, just because you’re taller than me, doesn’t mean I’m that tiny.” I said.

I glanced at the clock that was in our room, we needed to be at the Burrow in ten minutes.

“Freddie,” I said, stepping out of his grasp, “as much as I want to keep on cuddling with you, we need to be at the Burrow in ten or else your sister will never let us hear the end of it.”

He pouted, “Fine.”

We then took our bags and immediately apparated to the Burrow.

“Thank goodness!” Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as she engulfed Fred and I into a hug, “I thought you two were going to be late.”

Fred chuckled, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world sis.”

“What are we waiting for then?” George asked, “Let’s go!”

As the boys loaded the bags into the Ford Anglia we were taking, Hermione asked, “Who’s driving?”

Ginny smiled as she threw the keys at me, “Y/N is! She’s the only one I can trust who won’t crash the car into a tree.”

I laughed, “Wow, thanks Gin!”

I then climbed into the driver’s seat, the rest of the group following suit, Fred sitting next to me.

Fred held my free hand the whole journey, rubbing his thumb along the back.

The beach was a bit far from the Burrow so it was a long hour drive.

It was around late afternoon, George and Ginny were debating about the latter’s latest Quidditch match, Hermione was reading a new book that she got while Ron and Harry were both asleep.

I noticed that Fred was a bit quieter than usual, I managed a quick glance at him, “Hey Freddie, is there anything wrong? You seem quiet.” I asked.

He shook his head, offering a reassuring smile, “Everything’s fine Princess.”

“You sure?” I said.

He nodded, leaning slightly and pressing a kiss on my cheek, “Positive.”

After few more long hours later, we arrived at the beach and were able to get settled into our rooms.

“You know what I just realized?” I said, as I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What?” Fred asked, coming out of the kitchen.

I smiled, “This was the exact same room we slept in the last time we were here.”

His eyes widened before checking our hotel card, “You’re right.” He said with a small chuckle.

“Funny.” He said with a small smirk, resting his hands on the space by my side, trapping me in. “Since we are at the exact same beach where we first got together and we’re staying at the exact same room where we had to deal with the ‘one bed’ situation.”

I giggled, looking right into his eyes, “Yeah, I wonder if Ginny had anything to do with this.”

He licked his lips, “Who knows? Maybe Ginny isn’t the only one.” He said before leaning forward and capturing my lips into a hot kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, laying back down onto the bed, bringing him down with me.

“Oh, you’re so in for it sweetheart.” He whispered as he trailed kisses down my neck, sucking on my sweet spot, “You might not be able to walk tomorrow once I’ve had my way with you.”

“Oh Merlin.” I groaned as I rubbed the remaining sleep out of my eyes, my body feeling a tad bit sore after last night’s adventure.

“Tired you out, didn’t I?” Fred asked, his morning voice laced with a bit of smugness as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to his chest.

“Hm, A perfect ten out of ten.” I mumbled, burying my head into the crook of his neck.

He hummed, his fingers trailing down from my arms to my waist, “Ten out of ten? You always say that.”

I giggled, “That’s because you always manage to reach that and more.”

After cuddling for a bit longer, we went down to meet the others for breakfast.

The whole time we were walking, I was being careful with my legs and may or may not have a small limp in my step. To which Fred just smirked smugly at.

“Morning guys.” Fred and I greeted as we joined them at the table.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Hermione asked, looking a bit concerned.

Fred grinned, “She’s fine ‘Mione, she just didn’t get much sleep last night.”

George groaned, “That’s it, I don’t want to hear the rest of that story.”

The group bursted out into laughter, feeling my cheeks grow hot as I buried my head into Fred’s shoulder out of embarrassment.

After having breakfast and changing into our swimwear, we then headed down to the beach to go swimming.

Fred wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder, “You look absolutely sexy love.”

Ginny smacked Fred on the shoulder, “Hey! We came here to have fun. Not for you to seduce Y/N every single minute.”

She then looped her arm around mine, pulling me out of her brother’s gasp, “Now come on, let’s get away from that idiot.” She said with a small smile while George, Ron and Harry were laughing so hard as Fred glared daggers at them.

Ginny, Hermione and I were sitting in the sand, building a sand castle while the boys chased each other around in the water.

“So,” The youngest Weasley said, giving me a mischievous smile.

I looked at her, a bit confused, “So, what?”

She and Hermione exchanged silent message as the latter said, “Well, it’s been years since you and Fred first confessed your feelings, so, why not tie the knot already?”

I giggled, looking down, trying to hide a small smile, “Well, Fred hasn’t exactly proposed yet.”

“But, if he did, would you say ‘yes’?” Ginny asked.

‘Of course, I would.” I answered without hesitation, “Being with Fred has been the happiest memories of my life. I couldn’t imagine a future without him in it.”

I then raised a brow at the both of them, “Why suddenly the talk about a proposal?”

They laughed nervously, “Oh, nothing, we were just curious.”

I sensed that there was a lot more to the story than they were letting on. But I decided to let the matter drop.

“Princess, princess. Wake up.” Fred whispered, tapping my shoulder.

I pulled the covers higher, “What do you want Freddie? I’m still sleepy.”

“Please princess.” He pleaded, “I want to watch the sunrise.”

“Fred, we watch the sunrise almost all the time.”

“Yeah, but we rarely watch the sunrise at the beach.”

He kneeled down in front of me, giving me his best puppy dog eyes, “Please.”

I opened an eye to look at him, “Fine. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He sprang up from his position excitedly, stuffing me into one of his sweaters the moment I had got out of bed as he dragged me out of the room and down to the beach.

We sat down in the sand, while I rested my head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

I am sure glad that Fred dragged me out to watch the sunrise, because it was the most beautiful one, I’ve ever seen.

As the brightest star in the Solar System painted to sky red and orange, Fred stood up as he gestured for me to do the same.

He smiled sheepishly, “I may or may not had a hidden agenda when I wanted to bring you out to watch the sunrise.”

I moistened my lips, “And that is?”

Fred pressed a kiss onto my forehead, before getting down on one knee, pulling out a small, velvet box and opening it to reveal a glimmering diamond ring.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.

He started his speech, “Y/N L/N, you are the most amazing, the sexiest, the hottest, the kindest, the sweetest, and the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met. I have absolutely no idea how I manage to live my life before I met you. I messed up a lot of stuff in my life, but you were the one thing I got right. I’ve been indecisive a lot of times, but I am more than sure that I want to have my future with you, I want to grow old with you. I don’t ever want to let you go. I asked you to be my girlfriend on this exact spot years ago and you said yes. Now, I’m willing to try my luck again, will you give me this honor and marry me?”

The words died in my throat, I managed as small nod as Fred grinned, slipping the ring onto my ring finger before pulling me in for a kiss.

We pulled apart as Fred lifted me up and spun me around in a circle, “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“You two are up early.” Harry said as we met the group at breakfast.

Fred then took a glass, dramatically tapping a spoon against it, causing everyone’s attention to be directed towards us.

“We have an announcement to make.” Fred said in a as a matter-of-fact tone.

“Will you hurry up because I’m hungry.” Ron said, causing Hermione to smack him on the arm.

“Y/N is no longer my girlfriend.” My fiancée said.

Everyone was stunned. Ginny was the first to break the silence, “You broke up with her? Why?”

Fred and I exchanged a look, trying hard not to smile, “That’s because,” he started to explain, “Y/N has been promoted to my fiancée.”

I grinned as I held up my left hand, the ring sitting proudly on my finger.

Everybody cheered as Ginny ran forward and engulfed me into a hug, the force enough to have me stumble backwards.

“I finally have a sister.” She said with a smile.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@lumosandnoxwriting @wand3ringr0s3 @famdomhideout @nova-darling @gaycatlord-stuff @pandaxnienke @escapingrealitybyreading (If you are crossed out, that means I can’t tag you)

#fredweasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fredweasleyfanfic #fredweasleysmut #fred weasley angst #fredweasleyoneshots #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you

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priyankaraa · 4 years

Text

How To Love Your Boss

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland × PA!Reader

Warnings:Jealousy, A little violence, Tom being a bit of a douche in the beginning, Smutt (18+), Oral (Male receiving), Fluff

Summary:The reader is Tom's PA. He is in love for her but she thinks that all he wants is sex.

A/N: I got this idea because I have been reading alot of these type of books on Wattpad. Then I came up with something smutty and funny at the same time. Hope you'll enjoy and thanks for the follows and likes. Thanks so much for over one hundred followers.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open and out came the World's most sexiest CEO - well at least he thought. You thought the exact opposite. His cocky, arrogant, asshole attitude took away from his good looks. To you he was nothing but a shallow guy that hooked up with countless girls, but you couldn't deny the tiniest attraction you had towards him. You were never going to let him get to you. All he wanted was to get in your pants, and you were better than that.

It was a usual Tuesday morning. You had a cup of steaming hot tea on your desk for Tom. His agenda for the day had been completed. He had a few meetings and then his hook up from the accounting department would be with him. As I have said before, it was a usual Tuesday. Okay, maybe not so usual.

It was around eleven, Tom cancelled half of his meetings because he was tired. He hardly slept thinking about you. He had tried so hard to get you. At first he wanted a good fuck, a one night stand but as time went on he found himself wanting you more the more your rejected him. Of course he wasn't at all accustomed to this thing called rejection. He was a famous actor and then he went on to taking over his father's company. Women usually threw themselves at his feet.

You had seen it too. There were women that used to drop by the office. They were indeed gorgeous. You thought they were better looking than you. They had plain, smooth skin with an hour glass figure. They had amazing hair that always set in the perfect curls. You were just you. Plain ol' simple Y/N.

These women came to see Tom. They would give him a quickie in his office. You pitied the cleaning staff. The women would often look at you with disgust and make hurtful comments about the way you looked. You didn't appreciate this, you didn't sign up for this when you signed the contract. You didn't sign under Tom. Although you are the same age, you started working here when he his father was still CEO. Tom wanted to get rid of you but his father only trusted you and once Tom saw you, he wanted you. Plus, your father is also a close friend of Doninic Holland.

Tom decided that he needed a break, not like he was doing much work. He just sat at his desk looking at security footage of you.

Creepy, I know.

You, on the other hand was extremely exhausted. Sincing Tom stayed in his office the whole day you decided to help a friend down at the accounting department. Adrian West. The both of you started working together. You'll instantly got along.

Tom hated Adrian. The fact that he always made you laugh made him even more upset. He saw you talk to him and hang out like friends would do. This made Tom jealous. He couldn't even get you to have a conversation with him that's not related to work. Tom tried hard so make you like him, even in a platonic way.

He would compliment you and try and hold back on the sexual innuendos. He would bring you coffee just the way you like it. He would give you longer breaks and sometimes half days off, sometimes he even took you for lunch. You appreciated it but still wasn't entirely sure about his intentions.

A part of you had feelings for Tom. He was good looking and when you look past his cocky, conceited side he is actually a great guy. You started seeing a whole new side of Tom. Not the side that the whole of London knew, a side that you wanted to call a friend or possibly even more.

"Miss Y/L/N, I'm going out for lunch. Would you like to join me?" He did have an effect on you when he addressed you by your last name. Not the reaction that had butterflies in your stomach, the type that makes your squeeze your thighs together.

You were going to say yes but then you saw Adrian exit the elevator. Your were on the last floor of the building. That was where Tom's office was situated.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I need these documents to be printed out and these emails to be sent, among with a sign of gratitude. Then, you will need to arrange these files according to date." You flipped through the files and saw that the documents in them weren't dated, making your task almost impossible.

"How do I file them accordingly if there are no dates on the document?" You would much rather have lunch than work. You left home in the morning only having eaten an apple and a granola bar. At this point you were sure that you had no stomach lining.

"You can figure it out. Maybe ask around." Tom wasn't happy at all. Firstly, you are his PA. Secondly, he knew you hadn't eaten properly. Your father had phoned and told him to make sure you get a decent meal, and he was going to make sure you eat even if he had to feed you.

"I can't ask around. I have other things to do." You said sincerely. Tom stood next to your table, silently staring at Adrain with hatred. It was now more than just being your friend. He was stressing you out. Tom knew that you practically worked your ass off sincing he was watching you on the surveillance cameras like a creep.

"Listen, woman! I need these things done. Anyways, all you do is sit here and stare at the walls occasionally pleasing Holland." That was all it took for Tom to lunge at him, punching him hard in the jaw.

"Don't you ever insinuate such things. You have no right to speak to any woman like that. Another thing she's my PA not yours. She does more work than you will ever be capable of. And before I forget, YOU'RE FIRED!" It felt good to finally get that off his chest.

Adrian laid there on the floor in bewilderment, shocked as to what the hell just happened. He just lost his job because of you. You felt guilty and shocked. Tom just punched and fired a guy because he was stressing you out. It meant a lot to you.

Eventually Adrian picked his sorry ass off the floor and left. Tom made sure that he cleared his things and sent security for a personal escort out.

The plans Tom made for lunch were long forgotten. He sat at his desk looking over documents. You felt bad for cockblocking Tom sometimes and decided to show him your gratitude by giving him what he always wanted - you.

Tom proved that he is worth it, that he truly genuinely likes you. He had this whole game plan where he asks you out and the whole first date planned. He had changed alot for you and all you had to do was go along with it.

You just needed the right time to confess. You wanted to make sure everything was right so you decided to wait a few days. Tom didn't want to pressurize you so he waited. He knew that you felt something towards him and he wanted you to admit it.

You waited out the rest of the week. Tom even gave you Wednesday off. Once Friday came you were ready to tell Tom everything. You walked through those elevator doors and went straight into Tom's office.

He had just gotten off the phone with his mom. He told her everything about you and about his plans. His parents did like you. In their eyes, you were perfect for Tom. You were just what he needed to keep his cocky ass grounded.

You stood in front of him at the doorway, he tried to hide his knowing smirk. You smiled at him before crashing your lips on his. You can't deny how nervous you was. Tom wasted no time in kissing you back. His lips instantly moving against yours. It was complete bliss on both your sides. He sucked and nibbled on your bottom lip, shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

He pressed your back into the wall and continued kissing the shit out of you. His hands groped your hips, pulling you flush into him. He had the urge to feel energy inch of you, to memorise every curve, mark and flaw. To know all your sweet spots and the effect of kissing you in certain places.

His fingers clumsily fumbled with the buttons on your silk shirt. You came prepared for this moment. Yesterday evening, you made a trip to Victoria Secret with your best friend. You bought a sexy black lace set and wore it under your work clothes. You weren't exactly sure that this would happen but you prepared accordingly.

Once he had removed your shirt, his lips travelled down your neck, kissing and sucking every spot. There was no doubt that he had left marks everywhere. You threw your head back and moaned at the feeling of his warm tongue against your skin.

He pinched the underside of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his hard on. He carried you over and placed you in his desk, shoving out whatever was on his way. He didn't give a shit about the lap top and stuff. All those things can be replaced. His attention was solely on you and making you feel good.

He broke the kiss and placed his forehead against yours, allowing you both to breath. "Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice was filled with love and concern. Tom had never asked a girl if she was sure. Normally they would be drunk and desperate. They would be all over him and he wouldn't even think about double checking.

You nodded before your cupped his cheeks and kissed him softly and sweetly. He stood between your legs with his hands laying on your thighs. He rubbed gentle circles with his thumbs on your radiant skin. The kiss soon got more heated and your hands soon removed his shirt.

Your tongues were down each others throat while your hands roamed his chest, feeling ever ab and muscle. Tom's hands travelled up your skirt and brushed your your clit though the thin material that was your underwear. He could feel your dampness through the material.

"What's got you so wet, darling?" He pressed the pad of his finger against your clit and you whimpered at his touch. Your mouth hung open as you enjoyed the feeling on him pressing against your clit. "Use your words for me." He pulled away allowing you the chance to speak.

"You Tommy. I'm wet for you. Only you." Calling him Tommy made him reach a whole new level in hornyness. The growl that left his lips made you even more wet if that was possible.

His lips attacked you neck, tugging down your skirt and discarding it somewhere across the room. Your fingers traced every muscle on his chest and stomach. You trailed them down and touched his boner. You felt him shudder at the contact. You wasted no time. You quickly undid his belt and slid his pants down his legs.

The both of you were in nothing but your underwear out of breath and about to fuck. Your hair was messed up from having Tom's fingers in it, probably looked like a fucking bird nest. Tom lips were pink and swollen. His pupils were almost black and he had a few red scratch marks on his chest.

He placed his palms on either side of you on the table and stared into your e/c orbs. "I love you." He placed a sweet delicate peck on your lips. He was scared that maybe you would reject him knowing all that you do but you didn't. "I love you too."

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him. It was passionate at first but gradually got more heated. He unhooked your bra and slid it down your shoulders. He placed a kiss on the valley of your breast and gentle pulled a nipple into his mouth.

Your back arched as he flicked his tongue on the sensitive nipple, massaging the other one. He then did the same to the other one. He ripped of your thong. He literally ripped off the thong that you just bought yesterday but you didn't care.

He laid you down on the desk so that your head was towards him. He peeled of his boxer briefs and his long, hard member sprung out. He jerked himself a few times. You understood what he was doing so you reached and jerked him, putting him in your mouth. He thrusted his hips and his hand reached out. He played with your tits for a while before reached down and gently stroking your clit.

He tangled his long fingers your locks and bobbed your head, pushing him further down your throat. You moaned sending vibrations through his cock. It hit the back of your throat making you gag. You pulled away wiping your spit that was leaking down your chin with the back of his hand.

He pulled a condom over his dick, lining it with you leaning his head against your forehead. He eased into because of the wetness filling you up to the brim. Of course, you were a virgin. You never got around doing it with your ex and now you were glad you didn't. You were able to give yourself to Tom fully.

It hurt at first as tears lined your eyes. But over time, the pain turned into pleasure and you found myself moaning out in joy. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pounded deeper into you.

He gripped your arms and pulled you into his chest so that he was hugging you. His body was warm and his body heat was radiating onto your body.

"You feel so fucking good." Tom moaned into your ear as he gently nibbled on the shell of your ear. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking on the delicate skin on your collar bone.

The air was steamy and filled with sex. Your bodies were one as he pounded into you, making you feel immense pleasure. Your body has never been loved like this before. Your senses were in overdrive; you couldn't make sense of what was happening. All you could think about was this feeling in the pit of you stomach.

You felt this knot come undone and your legs started to shake. You shut tight eyes tight enjoying the euphoric feeling wash over your entire body.

"Fuck... Cum for me, baby." You felt myself letting go at him command, releasing onto his cock. White spots clouded your vision and profanities rolled off your tongue effortlessly. Tom came after, moaning your name in his sexy husky voice.

You finally came down from the high and Tom pulled out, laying next to you on the table. Both of your chests were heaving, rising and falling with every breath you took.

When you caught my breath, yoi stood up and put your clothes back on. You gave into Tom and you thought that now he probably doesn't want to ever talk to you again. Now you felt stupid because you have done whatever those other girls have done. Only, you slept with your boss - the person thar signs your paychecks.

"Where are you going?" He asked as he grabbed onto your hand pulling you back into his toned chest.

"I'm leaving. You got what you wanted." You choked out, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

"No, Y/N. I want you not only for sex. I want to wake up next to you; I want to always have you in my arms; and I want to make love to you every night and only you. What I'm trying to say is that I love you." He wiped your tears with his thumbs as he cradled your face with his hands. "Why are you still crying?"

Launching yourself into Toms arms, you wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your head in his chest.

"I love you too, Thomas." You said and he wrapped his arms you, tight enough to feel him. There was absolutely no space between the two of you'll and you was content.

You are content knowing that Tom is yours and only yours. And of course you're only his.

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #fanfic #tom holland imagines #fanfiction #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland ? reader #peterparker

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baekchelor · 4 years

Text

𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

pairings: George Mackay x reader genre: romantic comedy rating: pg13 synopsis: on the set of his new film, golden boy George Mackay learns a basic human truth: that the heart is deceitful above all things. warnings: slight smut

❝i love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions and him entirely and all together.❝ ― emily brontë

FOUR | ENDINGS & BEGINNINGS ◄ ᴘʀᴇᴠ

George has six different scripts waiting for him on his red mailbox when he gets back to his apartment building. The tail end of this autumn is a chilly, constant rainfall —one of the coldest London has seen in recent years.

Alma rolls down her window and waves, "Call me if you need anything." She's in the passenger seat of the Range Rover that picked them up from the airport.

"My sister sent over food," George responds. Daisy's text came in shortly after they landed. "I'll survive, Alma."

"That's not what I meant," his manager replies pointedly.

A mob of fans had been queuing in wait at the airport. George knew they were in for the hysterical cries and invasive photography, the obstacle course of thrust-out gifts and feet to trip over. He wished he could have had his last goodbye in peace, a memory in a hushed corner, however brief. But the sheer mass of bodies had been too much to contend with. In the end, he and Y/N were escorted out through separate gates. She took a flight to Los Angeles, he to London.

So again, with only the slightest fluctuation in tone, George says, "I'll survive." Because he and Y/N's friendship remained on good terms, and now that her T.V. Series promotion summoned her to L.A., he will have time to get over his little infatuation. When they see each other again, George's heart won't be able to jeopardize their relationship, and the prize will be to have Y/N in his life forever.

Not even an hour later... his plan goes to shit. George considered himself a man with a strong will. Apparently, when it comes to the girl who stole his heart in Mumbai, his resolution is tossed to the trash. He played London Boy first, then the Heartbreak Prince song, and before he noticed, he had ordered Chinese, simmered his ass on the sofá, and listened to Taylor Swift's entire discography as thoughts of Y/N, Mumbai and the way she makes him feel invaded his mind.

It takes almost a month for George to meet up with Dean, who's finally back from his filming schedule in France.

They kept in touch via texts. Dean asked for advice in certain scenes, described his character and his approach to him, and narrated funny anecdotes on set. In turn, George told him about Mumbai in vague, emotionless terms. He's had no contact with Y/N since they got back to their real life, and instead of making him forget, it filled him with a deep sense of loss. George partially blames Taylor Swift for that, but he doesn't tell Dean. It would be too humiliating, especially since George has never been lovesick before. The feeling is persistent and tactile, and terribly unsettling.

Today, they're at Dean's flat, smack dab in the centre of Soho. Dean has got his head bent over his phone, reading some table nonsense to not lose the habit. George nurses an iced coffee he ordered from UberEats and delves upon the fact he doesn't even like Taylor Swift's music yet his phone automatically play her songs whenever it is connected to Bluetooth.

George still holds out hope that he's going through a phase. A Y/N induced phase. Maybe, sometime soon, it will pass.

"You okay, Geo?" Dean is looking at him with concern.

George blinks, and he realizes belatedly that his friend is no longer at the table. He's standing by the water dispenser in the kitchen.

"I'm just thinking," George says dismissively, eking out a smile. He doesn't want to talk about this.

Dean smiles back, understanding, but he refuses to cave. Once his glass of water is filled, he returns to the table, and with a sigh, he asks: "Have you read the news lately?"

"No, not recently." George drums his fingers over the table. They produce a dull sound. "Why?"

"I'll show you," Dean says, handing the phone with a window open in a gossip article that headlines Henry Cavill and Y/N Y/L/N had ended their long term relationship. This time for good.

George's mouth quirks, "I see."

Pressing his elbows to the table, Dean nestles his face between cupped palms. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"About what?"

Dean's eyebrows slope and George traces the wood grain of the table with his fingertip. "You could be happy, you know? If you tell her," Dean addresses him openly.

There's that all-too-familiar twinge again; a heartstring plucked. "You don't know that," George bites the inside of his cheek. "We never even..." He trails off, and of course, he remembers: Y/N's fingers lacing into his, Y/N's warm body wrapped around his… Y/N's mouth, slick and soft and open for a kiss.

"That doesn't mean nothing happened," Dean mutters. "I know you, George. I know how much you're keeping from me. Your texts were dead giveaways if anything at all. Do you know how sad you look right now?" That word, again. "It's the first thing I noticed when you came in. I've never seen you like this. Like you're lost, or something." He puts his hand on the back of George's chair. "You realize everything's changed, don't you? And it's never going to go back to the way it was, no matter how much you force the issue?"

"What do you want me to do, Dean?" George says, feeling caged and itching with defensiveness. "Throw away our friendship, this special bond we have for an infatuation? For all I know, she can only think of me as a friend. Nothing else." He's embarrassed by the tremor in his voice. "I don't even know what I'm doing, pining over a girl like this, and she and I —we never discussed what this was, between us. And it's like you're asking me to risk it all, our friendship, Daisy, my peace of mind, so I can try for something uncertain with, with..." He hasn't said her name in a while, so his tongue stumbles over it. "Y/N."

"Yes." The word is as solemn as a prayer. "Because, clearly, you don't love Daisy, you never had, that's why things between you were nothing but a fling. You love Y/N. It's not just an infatuation."

George breathes silently, heavily, staring at the table.

The next words that come out of Dean's mouth are gentle, designed to coax, not provoke, "You have to stop torturing yourself, George. It's just making you miserable."

"Dean..."

"Listen," he sighs, clearly exasperated. "You say you don't want to put your friendship with Y/N at risk, but you already did. You're losing her in every fucking way possible. You haven't talked to her in weeks. Right now, you two are as close as strangers. All because you're scared."

"I am not scared. I am rational."

"You are not, Mackay. And you need to realise it."

They would've most likely kept going in circles if friends-with-benefits Daisy hadn't chosen that moment to text George. He replies because he wants a distraction and needs reassurance that what he is doing is the right thing to do, but the words of a dinner date and romantic plans sting nonetheless because it's something George wants with Y/N and can't have.

When George leaves the apartment, promising Dean to meet on Sunday for a match of Call Of Duty, the latter looks over and asks for George's well being.

George pulls up a smile to reassure him, but it's acted, and he knows it. All he can think about is that barely-there brush of lips in a hotel bed, that Thank you for Mumbai, that last look at the crowded airport, that question Y/N never asked him fading away like so many summer days.

It takes another four more months after that, and up until the very end, George vacillates between doing it and not doing it, making up his mind only to change it again at the last minute. But when he finally ends things with Daisy, it's almost like she's prepared for it.

They're sitting in her car, in somewhere's basement parking lot. Daisy doesn't have a speck of makeup on. It makes her look younger, more fragile.

"I wondered who was going to end it first," she says, thumbing at the steering wheel. "I thought it might be better if it was me. Maybe it would hurt less." She shrugs, and a lock of hair falls over her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," George mumbles. He brushes it back, out of habit, before he realizes he doesn't have the right to do that anymore. His hand recoils. "I never wanted to hurt you."

She shrugs again, but her mouth twists this time. It's a defence mechanism. "I shouldn't be this upset. We weren't dating, you didn't love me, and since day one you made it clear you didn't seek for commitment," George can't stand the look on her face —one of pure defeat. "I told myself so many times that I could win you over. For a while, I was convinced I would actually get you to love me. There used to be this shiny little space in your eyes, reserved just for me... but when I visited you in Mumbai, I'd already been replaced without even knowing why."

"Daisy..."

"Do you really think I believe you want to end this because of your agenda, George?" she murmurs. Her laugh is brittle, like clattering metal. "Don't lie to me. I know it is because of Y/N." Her lip trembles, so she sucks it into her mouth.

She had known, after all. And she's angry, of course, she is. George deceived her. The shame of it makes his stomach roil with acid.

"Daisy," he entreats her, "She never...we never...I didn't..."

"It's worse that way," she hisses back at him. "It's even worse." She doesn't expound, but George understands her perfectly: a betrayal of the heart, not of the body.

When she adds, "I always knew you would fall in love. I just thought it would be with me," the blood rushes straight to George's head.

"I am not —I am. I don't know," George answers helplessly. He's dizzy, and he feels naked. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I loved you so much," unrelenting, she whispers. A plump tear rolls down her cheek, followed swiftly by another. She draws herself up; proud as the Ophelia she plays in the theatre. "I don't want to see you anymore. Not anywhere. Delete my number. Delete our pictures. Don't bother sending back anything I've left at your place —you can have it all. Throw it out, if you want. I don't care."

George thought he'd been prepared for the consequences. He didn't realize it would feel like he was tied to a whipping post, his back exposed, as Daisy's words lashed him again and again.

The worst part is that she probably feels the same kind of pain, too.

"Why couldn't you love me?" she shakes out. Her cheeks are wet.

And George doesn't care if she hits him, doesn't care if she bruises his chest and his face with her balled-up fists that still smell like the coconut in her lotion. He reaches across the passenger's seat, pushing right past the boundaries he'll have to observe from now on, and he envelops her in a fierce, hopeless embrace.

She cries silently, her tears and sobs suffusing his shirt with damp heat. He holds her through the whole thing, knowing full well it will be another one of those last times until, after a long spell, she calms.

"I did care for you," George says then, tenderly, his voice breaking. "How could I not?"

Her entire face gentles, just a moment, before the softness is gone; the keenness of fresh heartbreak taking its place.

Daisy nods, perfunctory, and looks away.

When the door on his side unlocks with a quiet click, George knows she's telling him to go.

The bitter afternoon turns worse as George settles down on his couch, back at his apartment. His phone rings with a notification from Dean claiming it is better if Georges hears such news from him. A link is attached, and as soon as George opens it, he feels his heart rip apart.

All along, Dean was right. The time spent worrying over Dev Patel and Henry Cavill was a waste. He never saw Luke Hemmings coming, the thought didn't even cross George's mind, and now Luke and Y/N had been spotted together. Several times.

They went to Trader Joe's, left the store with bags of organic food and bottles of pink lemonade. They spent a weekend in San Francisco, Luke's nails painted red, and his fingers resting on the small of Y/N's back. They shared a cigarette at Sunset Strip, outside some old bar 80's rockstars use to hang out at. It annoyed George the most. She smokes with Luke but refused George's cigarettes the many times she came along to watch him poison his lungs with nicotine.

Dean was right.

Taylor Swift is right too, it feels like death by a thousand cuts. There's no use to get drunk, it won't be enough, he knows it. George pretended it was okay for so long when it isn't. The morning will come, and Y/N won't be his baby, won't be his friend. She is Luke Hemmings', and it is all George's fault.

At the pre-screening party for Dharma, two days before the film is slated for release, George finally sees Y/N again.

It's been months since Mumbai, months since Daisy, months since Luke Hemmings and months since they've had any sort of contact.

George's dyed his hair chestnut in preparation for a new role. Tonight, he wears eyeliner under his eyes (it reminds him of those days he filmed Hamlet) and a leather jacket. Greta thought it would be fun to throw a rock-themed party, she hired a band to perform live and required the dress-code to be inspired by the Age of Rock.

Y/N is wearing a black chain embellished mini skirt, a white turtleneck underneath a fucking 5SOS t-shirt, and she's, again, hanging off Luke Hemming's arm. His hair is a blond silk sheet draped over his forehead, and his lips hover close to Y/N's ear, speaking into it confidingly. It gives George a pang, right in the centre of his chest.

There's no avoiding each other. Not when Y/N is looking at him, all smiles and excitement, and she excuses herself from the conversation with Luke, Timotheé Chalamet and Florence Pugh to run straight towards George. He is tongue-tied, yearning, and all he manages is a lame nod that suits neither him nor the object of his affections. Y/N stops right in her tracks.

"George." Not London Boy, neither Heartbreak Prince. It sounds unnatural.

"Y/N," he replies. Not Gorgeous. "It's been a while."

They shake hands, and George is satisfied with that, but Y/N encircles her arms around his neck, hugging him as tight as George had wanted to hug her all those months they spent apart.

"I missed you," she says, a whisper. If only she knew how much George missed her, and the lengths he went to get her out of his head. He tried to hang out with new people, meet new girls. Hell, he even went out with his ex-girlfriend Doone. Twice.

Before George can be honest, his body tingling from the embrace, Luke greets him. He is polite and keeps things as brief as possible, but George forgets about him immediately after. Y/N is here, right here, within his grasp. She's with a handsome man, and it's been so long, and George is afraid she's forgotten all about their time in Mumbai. But there it is —that blessed, steadfast question flickering behind Y/N's orbs, and George clings to it like a port in a storm.

The moment Luke excuses himself to the stage (he will bless every guest with a song —George want to roll his eyes at it), the atmosphere shifts between them. She attentively waits for Luke to start singing; everybody is cheering and excited, and people let out awe sounds when Luke strums the first chords of Eye In The Sky. Of course, he would sing such a hit. Of course, his voice sounds perfect, and George grows embarrassed over his two songs from the Been So Long soundtrack. Of course, he feels, once more —The first time was when he walked inside and Here I go Again blasted on the speakers—, attacked by a song tonight.

"How've you been?" Y/N murmurs, eyes trained on a point across the room. The stage. "We haven't spoken to each other since we got back." She licks her lips into a cautious smile.

George follows the movement closely. "I ended things with Daisy," he says. Just like that.

"Did you?" The smile falters. "I mean if that is what you wanted... I'm —I'm glad..." If George hadn't spent so much time with Y/N before they stopped spending so much time together, he would have missed the subtle quake in the girl's voice. "How are you holding up?"

"Better." George looks over at her. He doesn't mean he felt terrible because of Daisy, and now he is better. George is better now because she's here, near him. "It was a big mess, but now I feel free." He licks his lips too because they've gone dry. And then he catches it —Y/N's gaze darting quickly to his mouth.

He places his hand on Y/N's thigh. It tenses, just for a second, before giving in. George realizes, at this exact moment, when Luke sings about how he can read someone's mind by just looking at them, that he can read Y/N's mind, and gaze, and body language, and he knows what Y/N has wanted to ask him. He's just been a coward.

"That's good," she exhales. "I'm glad."

Well, he won't be a coward anymore.

"We should talk," George says, voice pitched low. "You should come over to my suite, and we should catch up."

"Tonight?" her limbs tense again, muscles shifting under George's palm.

"If you like." George wants and wants and wants. "But only if you haven't got anything planned with your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," Y/N tells him, and George knows there's an unspoken yet in her words. His heart skips a hundred beats. He still got a chance. He can still get the girl. And he can't wait for this party to be over.

"I'll come over tonight," Y/N agrees. "After this, whenever it ends. Wait for me." She passes her hand over the one George's resting on her thigh. Every meeting of skin on skin is a promise. George wants to hear it out loud for once.

"Perfect," the last of George's fingertips traces over her knuckles. Luke is weaving his way back through applauses and clinking champagne flutes.

"All right then, Geo."

George French-exit at ten, because he just can't sit still any longer. Plus, parties ain't something he is kneen of, they are a part of his job, and he has to endure it as much as filming in cold-ass water. He didn't even attend The Oscar's after-party, to begin with. Tonight he decided to come along because he wanted to see her, be near Y/N at least one more time. If everything goes well after midnight, he will lay eyes on the girl of his dreams forever. It gives George hope.

He squeezes his way out of a cluster of guests and quickly pulls Y/N aside.

"I'll see you around midnight," she whispers. George's thumb traces soothing little circles into the underside of her wrist.

"Midnight." He feels the skinship all over his body, like concentric ripples of water. "I'll be waiting."

George is wearing sweats now, showered, changed, and just...ready. His bangs are flopping into his eyes (he grew his hair for the same role he dyed it, and it is long enough for him to tie it in a small bun at the back of his head). With arms exposed to the warmth radiating from the fireplace, George rests on the duvet in front of it, staring at the flames and cursing himself for blowing it out of proportion. The fact he has felt blue since Mumbai is his own doing, and taking such responsibility, is what tells him this love is worth the fight.

The clock on his wrist reads half-past twelve. It's not that he is afraid Y/N won't come —although the thought of it makes him lose his mind. It's that the build-up to this moment has been torturously slow, achingly indefinite and he just hopes this thing, whatever it is, works out the way he wants it to. Which is Y/N, telling him that her heart belongs to him, that they'll be just fine.

It's a quarter to one when the doorbell sounds. On the other side of the door, Y/N's face is exhausted. "I'm sorry. I couldn't get away until now."

"It's fine," he says, stepping aside so she can come in. "You've never been late before."

Y/N slides off her jacket at the entrance. She's still in her party outfit, and even though she's still wearing that damn 5SOS t-shirt, George has never seen anybody look so perfect. Perfect for him, especially.

He doesn't know what his body is telling his brain, but suddenly he's reaching out and curling his fingers into Y/N's hair.

Both freeze on the spot, unsure of their actions. When she looks up, George's ocean eyes are perilously wild.

"I don't wanna lose this with you," he says.

And finally, velvet-toned and whisper-soft, she asks: "How do you feel about me?"

George is standing in the portal of the foyer, a step above her. Barefoot, in a tanktop, shutting the door close. This is it, he intones, brimming with everything he's kept to himself all these months. Finally.

"How do I feel?" he mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. Then he rests his forehead against Y/N's, his hand cupping her face with such love, if they were still filming Dharma, Greta would have gone nuts. He once told Y/N that James and Marina's love seemed out of this world, and now, he understands them. He feels such. "I'm in love with you."

All the resistance seeps out of Y/N's body —a vapour, escaping. Her shoulders sag in relief. Her expression softens, turns bittersweet.

They've wasted so much time.

"That's good to know," she breathes out, shaky "because I am in love with you too."

It's George who steps forward and presses her against the wall. Y/N is ready for him, craning up, so their lips latch together like magnets. At first is gentle, soft, almost fearful, but it slowly morphs into a kiss hot and heavy, deep and merciless. They breathe in through their nostrils, so they don't have to stop kissing. There are no polite introductions, no tentative licks against the seams of their mouths. She opens up for him willingly, without being asked. Their tongues circle in a primal dance and George gets completely drunk off of it, plunging in for more.

The sound it pulls out of her makes George kiss her harder. He takes one hand from where it's tangled in Y/N's hair and trails it down her neck, her shoulder, her chest, and back around to her bum. When he creeps a hand under the skirt to palm her legs all the way up to her smooth back, the girl breaks away for air.

"Do you know," George rasps, "how crazy you make me?"

"Do I?" The question isn't provocative, is innocent. Y/N really is clueless about how she makes him feel.

"You're making me jealous all the time," George mutters. He pushes their hips closer together, and they both let out sibilant gasps.

"I thought you were in love with her. When you brought her over." Y/N is trying to regain control, but George presses in to make her shudder. "Thought it was over between us."

"It was never over." George tugs at Y/N's bottom lip with his teeth then lave over the spot with his tongue. "My body is mine, my lips and skin as well. But I am not. I am yours."

On cue, Y/N slips a hand under his tank. Her fingers meander over the grooves of George's abs, searing the skin. "Your body is yours, your lips are yours, your skin is yours. And I am. Yours," she murmurs, chest heaving.

George shuts his eyes. It feels so good. All of it. He brushes his thumb, feather-light, over her lips. His voice is dangerous, "What parts of you?"

"Everywhere," when she answers, George pulls the girl flush against him, peeling away from the wall so he can walk them both in the direction of his bedroom. Y/N lets him lead the way, as she sucks at the side of his neck. She's going to leave marks at this rate —a row of dark red roses—, and fuck it, he wants her to, so he can see the evidence of their mutual longing tomorrow. Y/N feels George's heat and his strength, there, between her legs, and it's enough to make her shudder. "Everywhere."

They don't say it while they're naked, writhing at every touch to uncharted territory, sweating from their exertions towards climax as they come together as one.

George does say, "I didn't look at anyone else since I saw you," and Y/N whispers, " I didn't think of anyone else since I thought of you."

They say it in the daylight, over the pot of coffee Y/N brews and the out-of-a-magazine waffles she blushes at when she sheepishly serves it to George, sprinkled by powdered sugar and syrup.

"Hey," George says, pushing around the berries. She's sitting on his lap, wearing his shirt, his scent on her skin, and George feels in heaven. "I love you."

He strokes the side of her face, slowly, sweetly, shyly, until the two of them are blushing. He suspects this is one of those moments he will carry around with him like a photo in a locket —a small and lovely secret.

"And I love you, Geroge Mackay," she says in return. "More than anybody else."

►

A/N: aaaand, that’s it. Hope you enjoy it. Next week I will post the Epilogue and the heartfelt message for all of you who have read this. Lots of love. xx

#did u see the captain fantastic easter eg?? haha #George mackay #dean charles chapman #Luke hemmings #Henry cavill #william schofield #schofield #Thomas blake #blake #1917

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mattygraygubler · 4 years

Text

our campus: chapter 8 (tom holland fic)

summary: frat!tom and reader go to the same college and y/n is tasked with being his tutor, they don’t really get along at first (because i love reader and tom hating each other trope)

warnings: drinking, drinking, more drinking, mentions of sex

word count: 2.6

a/n: sort of a cliff hanger at the end???? we’ll see what happens!

as always texts are bolded

for a list of characters click here

to be added to the tag list send me an ask !

masterlist

✰✰✰✰✰

You slowly opened your eyes and were immediately confused. You were in your room, but you felt someone’s arms around you.

You drank almost an entire bottle of wine last night, so needless to say, you didn’t really remember anything. You didn’t think you slept with someone… But did you?

The body groaned, but you still couldn’t figure out who it was because the lights were off and blackout curtains closed. You pushed their shoulder a bit and heard a british voice say “Whaa?”

“Tom?” You asked incredulously.

“Good morning, darling,” he said. His voice was raspy and low, so incredibly sexy.

“What are you doing here? Why are you shirtless, where are my pants?! Did we- ohmigod tell me we didn’t…”

“You don’t remember?” He asked and you shook your head, still very aware that his arm was around you and your legs were intertwined. “Relax, we didn’t have sex, love. We just hung out and then watched a movie and fell asleep.”

“Then where’s your shirt?” He laughed.

“You’re wearing it. You were cold and wouldn’t let me leave the bed, so I gave it to you.” You bit your lip, very uncomfortable. It was one thing to sleep with someone and not remember it, but to spend the entire night cuddling? You weren’t a couple, who does that?!

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You said and sat up, untangling your body from his.

“What are you apologizing for?” He asked.

“I mean… I’m your tutor, we’re just becoming friends, it’s weird for us to-to sleep in the same bed together and-”

“Y/N, slow down. We’re friends. It’s really not a big deal, totally platonic. I mean, c’mon, you’ve never slept in the same bed as Kyle? Or Emily?”

“No, I have…” “Then what’s the big deal?” He asked.

“I guess there isn’t one…” You replied. Tom swung his leg over the side of the bed, stretching and getting his stuff together. You couldn’t help but watch his back muscles flex when he stretched. You wanted to run your fingernails along it.

“I gotta take care of some stuff, I’ll see you later today?” He asked. You nodded.

“Sure, I’ll see you later. Wait, Tom!” You said before he could walk out the door.

“Yes?” He turned back to look at you.

“You’re, uhm… You need your sweatshirt back.” You started to take it off.

“I’m only going down two floors. You look comfy anyway.” He said and smiled at you before walking out.

You lied back down in bed, picking up your phone and checking the alerts. You scrolled through all the drunk texts from last night, laughing at a lot of them.

♡girly girls♡

GUYS

whaaaaaat em

GUYS GUYS GUYS

em what happened

NOTHING HAPPENED

YET

CHECK THE WEATHER REPORT

You rolled your eyes and checked the weather report, unsure of what she was referring to. It was the first weekend in February, so you weren’t expecting your weather app to show you a 100% chance of snow starting in a few hours and lasting until Monday night.

THATS RIGHT LADIES

SNOOOOOOWWWW DAAAAYYYYYY

Y/N we’ll be over at 9 to play games, iz you and i are goin to grab the booze, em youre in charge of food

You

what am i in charge of?

dont you have homework? plus were using your room, we can take care of all the stuff

are we inviting anyone else?

thank you for asking i would love to invite harrison

im fine with that if i can invite cal

Cal was the nerdy boy from delt who Isabelle was seeing. It was really low key, they’d only gone on a few dates, and things hadn’t gotten physical yet.

Y/N! invite tom and we’ll make it a total delt nite !!!

You

yeah ok ill invite him. were gonna be studying anyway.

wow i expected more push back

You

were friends now, it wont be weird. its not like its a quintouple date

it is if one of those delt boys has a gay sister

not interested. besides i doubt more than 7 people can fit comfortably in Y/N’s room

You

fine ill see you guys tonight.

You hopped in the shower, putting on a pair of leggings and a cropped sweatshirt. You decided to text Tom.

You

hey so it looks like its gonna snow i was wondering if we could work at my place instead?

also ive been told to invite you to our game night tonight

Tom

interesting, because i was already invited

what took you so long Y/L/N?

You

sorry i was in the shower

Tom

likely story

but yeah that sounds great ill see you in a few hours

A few hours. That’s plenty of time for you to put your glasses on, earbuds in, and really focus on your homework.

* * *

You were pulled from your law reading by a knock at the door. You opened it, seeing Tom in a soccer tee shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was wet and he ran his fingers through it.

You hoped he didn’t see the fact that you bit your lip, but you couldn’t help yourself. He just looked so incredibly sexy.

“You look... “ His eyes scanned your body and you immediately wrapped your arms around you, insecure.

“What?”

“No, you just never wear stuff like this in front of me. You’re always so put together.”

“Your point?”

“You look cute, that’s all.” Tom said and walked into the room. He thought you were cute? No, you needed to calm down, he’s the biggest player ever, he didn’t mean anything. Just some accidental flirting.

“I brought tequila, Harrison said it’s your favorite.” He said and dropped his backpack on the floor and put the tequila on the table where you kept your booze.

“That’s sweet of you, thank you, it is my favorite.” “Really? I thought he was joking.” “No, why?”

“You’re just… you’re really something else, Y/N.” He said with a laugh.

You grabbed your notebooks and started the session, you checking his homework, him redoing the mistakes, and you answering any questions he had about the material.

“You’ve definitely made an improvement,” you said as you finished reading his essay on the power shifts in England from the 1600s to today.

“Thank you? I think?”

“You’re welcome. You’re almost there, but you’re still not incorporating this source correctly.”

“That’s because that source makes no sense. The writing is so convoluted, it’s mental!”

“Then why don’t you find a new source?” You asked.

“Well… I thought I’d be easier if I just stuck with this one.” Normally you would have rolled your eyes at that, but instead you found yourself laughing.

“Read it again,” You said and handed him the library book he was using as his last source, “And if you still can’t understand it, I can explain it or we can just find a new source.”

You grabbed your own book, Rage Becomes Her, which you were reading for your Women, Politics, and Public Policy class, and started highlighting right where you left off.

You both got lost in your books, highlighting and annotating in silence. Every once in a while Tom would stop to ask you about a particular passage.

It was another hour or so before you both heard a knock on your door. You got up to open it, and as soon as you did Emily burst into the room, Harrison right behind her holding three pizzas.

“TOM!” Emily said and tackled him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again!” “I didn’t realize you two had met,” you said and helped Harrison with the pizzas.

“Just once,” Tom said with a laugh. He made himself comfortable on your bed instead of the floor, Harrison took a seat on your comfy chair and Emily made herself comfortable on his lap.

“I better leave this unlocked,” you said. “I would offer you guys a drink, but Isabelle and Ally are-”

“Did someone say something about a drink?” Isabelle said, pushing the door opened.

“What’s up bitches,” Ally said and put a bottle of wine, svedka, prosecco, and a 30 on the booze table.

“How long do you guys anticipate this storm lasting, because that is a LOT of booze for 7 people,” you commented.

“Lighten up, babe, it’s not like we have to drink it all tonight.” Isabelle responded.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Ally said with a mischievous grin. They greeted the others in the room when you heard a knock on your door.

“I heard there was a party happening here?” Cal said as he pushed open the door. You closed it all the way behind him so no one else could stumble in.

After everyone introduced themselves to each other, Harrison said “So what does everyone want to play first?”

“Oh, you’re new.” Ally said. “See, we kinda of have an agenda.” “Is that so?” Harrison asked. Emily kissed his cheek. “Tell me more.”

“Well the first time we had a snow day, we took turns picking our favorite games, and then we just stuck with that formula. First is A which means kings,” Isabelle said. “Then Emily, which means never have I ever. Then me, which means truth or dare. And then Y/N.”

“And what does Y/N pick?” Tom asked.

“Y/N picks poker, of course. But most of the time were too drunk to get there.” Ally said.

“Yeah I really got the short end of the stick there. It’s a good formula, though.” You replied and grabbed a deck of cards and a beer.

“Let’s go, boys and girls.” You said. Everyone sat in a circle, the beer in the middle like you were worshipping it, and you spread out the cards in a circle around it. You saw Tom and Harrison exchange a look across the circle.

“Something wrong?” You asked.

“Well… Don’t judge us, but we’ve never played this game before. They don’t have it in England.” Everyone else laughed quietly at Harrison’s statement.

“It’s easy. Everyone picks a card, and each card has an action assigned to it. Ace is waterfall,” You said.

“Two is you, so you pick someone to drink.” Isabelle said.

“Three is me, so you drink.” Cal said as you went around the circle explaining the rules.

“Four is floor, so the last person to slap the floor loses.” Emily said.

“Five is guys,” Ally said.

“Six is chicks,” You said and the circle started again.

“Seven is heaven, so last person to touch the ceiling drinks.”

“Eight is date, so you pick someone and whenever one of you drinks the other has to too, for the rest of the game.”

“Nine is rhyme, so you go around the circle saying words that rhyme and the person who can’t continue the rhymes drinks.”

“Ten is categories, so it’s the same as nine but with a category of something, like animals.”

“Jack is never have I ever.”

“Queen is questions, so the next person who answers a question they ask drinks.”

“And finally, king is the ruler, so you make a rule that everyone has to follow until the next king is pulled.”

“Make sense?” You asked.

“Not one bit.” Tom responded.

“You’ll get the hang of it, I promise it gets easier.” You said. “Al goes first.”

“Why?” Harrison asked.

“Gay goes first.” The four of you said in unison. The boys looked scared. They had no idea what they had gotten themselves into.

“One last rule. First drink is a shot of your chosen poison. After that, you can drink whatever you want.” You explained as Isabelle gave each person a shot glass and the handles of hard liquor were passed around.

“Four,” Ally said and everyone slapped the floor except Tom and Harrison. Harrison realized first, so you watched as Tom downed the shot across the circle. He tensed his jaw after, which made you wet already. When he saw you looking at him, he winked at you.

Your turn was next, so you quickly pulled a card, a six, so you and the other girls did your shots and then began to pour yourselves your chosen drinks. For you, that was a second shot of tequila and then a rum and orange soda.

“Two.” Isabelle said with a grin. “I choose our kings sponsor, miss Alexandria Park.” Everyone whooped as Ally dramatically took a sip of her beer.

“Five,” Cal said. The boys took their shots, except Tom who took a sip of his beer.

“My turn then?” Tom said and drew a card. “Eight. Which one is that?”

“Date. You pick someone and for the rest of the game whenever one of you drinks, the other has to too.” Cal explained. Tom looked around the circle, but you already suspected who he was going to pick.

“Y/N,” he said. “Would you care to be my date?”

“You’re exhausting, Holland. What, are you trying to get me drunk or something?” That shut him up, right as Harrison said ‘seven’ and everyone reached for the ceiling except Tom, who groaned and complained about having to drink again.

Cal was the one who finally popped the beer and had to chug it. You put the cards to the side and everyone held up ten fingers, already ready for never have I ever.

Things started off innocent enough, with Emily sharing that she had never peed in a pool. By the time you all went once and it was Harrison’s turn, he made things more interesting.

“Never have I ever slept with more than 15 different people.” You and Tom were the only ones who clapped.

Harrison rolled his eyes. “Jesus fucking christ, it’s like you guys were made for each other.” He commented. Your face got red, which Emily noticed, so she went quickly next.

You finally lost, getting rid of your ten fingers before anyone else. You were always a bag of secrets, and Tom found himself learning more and more things about you he didn’t know. Like that you had a tattoo, or that you’ve gone skinny dipping, or that you’ve never had a gin and tonic.

You were all wasted, that was clear. Isabelle was in between Cal’s legs on the floor, leaning her back against his chest. Ally was lying on the couch all by herself, upside down. Harrison was in your big chair with Emily on his lap, and you and Tom were on your bed, you lying on your stomach and him sitting against the headboard.

“Isabelle, truth or dare?” Cal asked.

“Dare,” she said, looking back at him.

“I dare you to ditch your friends and come back to my room with me.” He said.

Isabelle shared a look with all of you before saying “Sorry guys, I’m not one to turn down a dare.” They grabbed the half-drunk bottle of prosecco on their way out.

“Al, truth or dare?” Emily asked. This went on until Ally passed out from drinking, still upside down.

“We’ll get her home.” Harrison said. He picked Ally up as Emily collected their stuff and bid you and Tom good night. You both sat in silence for a few minutes, when Tom’s phone lit up.

“Do you mind if I chill here for a while? I’ll stay on the couch if you want to go to sleep, but Harrison just said him and Emily want some alone time and her roommate is home.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.” You responded. You stumbled off the bed, going to pour yourself another drink.

“Ok, Y/N.” Tom said, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Truth or dare?” You turned to look at him and saw a dark look in his brown eyes.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

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