Skz Forgetting Their S/o Bday!

Skz forgetting their s/o bday!

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SKZ Reaction To Forgetting Their S/O's Birthday

Genre: light angst, fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks for the request!

Chan:

To be honest, I think it's unlikely that Chan forgets your birthday at all. He's good about those sorts of things and would set a calendar reminder just to make sure. If he did forget your birthday, it would likely be due to his schedule or overwork. Instead of making a huge gesture to beg your forgiveness, he'll simply show up with flowers, an apology, and your gift. It's so sincere that it's enough.

Minho:

He would think Felix was joking at first when he mentioned it was your birthday. When he realized that it wasn't a joke, he would immediately drop whatever he was doing to go get a last minute gift and come to your side. I think he would pretend like he remembered at first, but if you call him out on it, he'll admit it and apologize profusely. Ultimately, you'd get an extra cuddly and affectionate Minho which was rare, so it made up for it.

Changbin:

This poor man would absolutely hate himself. At first, he would isolate to collect himself and his thoughts. Early the next morning you'd wake up to dozens of flowers, a copious amount of your favorite snacks, and an apologetic Changbin. You'd spend the rest of the day watching movies and eating snacks. From then on, he'd set a reminder in his phone to ensure this never happened again.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin would rely on you to remind him because he is hopeless at remembering birthdays other than his own and Kkami's. If he did end up forgetting it, depending on how much importance his partner puts on their birthday, he would sacrifice sleep to take them to dinner. If his partner didn't care too much for birthdays, he would give them their gift a few days late and apologize for missing it on the day.

Jisung:

Similar to Changbin, this man will beat himself up. He'll probably shyly apologize and practically beg with his eyes for you not to be mad. He would spend the next two to three days making it up to you. This may include bringing you your favorite boba, letting you pick takeout every night, and taking you for walks along the Han River. After letting him stew for a bit, you'd tell him that it really wasn't a big deal.

Felix:

Honestly, Felix would be surprised if he forgets his birthday. It would likely only happen if they were preparing for comeback or if he thought it was on a different day. Luckily, he ordered your gifts well in advance and so he is able to give them to you with an apologetic look that makes it impossible to be mad at him. Expect a soft Felix for a few days with lots of forehead kisses, playing with your fingers, and the sharing of a playlist of songs he wrote for you.

Seungmin:

He may not see it as a big deal at first because if you forgot his, he wouldn't care too much. However, if his nonchalance causes a fight, he would realize just how much your birthday meant to you. He'd take you out to a nice restaurant and take you shopping after to pick out anything you wanted. Back hugs, soft and shy compliments, and later he'd send a large text about how he's sorry and how much he loves you.

Jeongin:

Similar to Minho, he may try to joke about it, but for him, this is an awkward deflection tactic as he figures out what exactly he's going to do. When he realizes you're mad mad he'd leave to pick up some of your favorite things as well as the present he had actually gotten you months ago in preparation for your birthday. Still, he knew gifts couldn't totally make up for it, so he'd make sure to be extra gentle and eventually talk about it.

06. sharing a bed series ; skz ; felix

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 6/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. bodyguard au. a dose of angst. open ending. past violence and parental abuse mentioned. ongoing perilous situation and forced proximity. not the healthiest dynamic lol. spanking, some rough play, hair-pulling, throat-grabbing, overstimulation, crying during sex, mention of past unprotected sex, a more dominant felix and a kinda bratty reader.

-

You kick open your bedroom door.  As usual, no one is home except for you and Felix so you are free to scream and curse and stomp all you want. 

“I can’t fucking believe you!” you shout among a flurry of other colourful words.   

Felix enters behind you with his hands in his pockets, looking as nonchalant as ever. 

Felix’s perpetual calmness is half the reason your father hired him.  The other reason is that Felix was the best behaved boy in the world who grew into the most pristine, perfect man.  Your father did not claw his way to the top of the industrial world by settling for anything less than the best.  Lee Felix is the best.  Your father trusts him with everything and anything, including wrangling his rambunctious daughter.  Felix’s job is to guard and protect you – from others and from yourself.   He is annoyingly good at it.    

Felix is the prettiest, loveliest, sweetest man on the outside, particularly selected for his unassuming attributes.  An obvious bodyguard figure draws unwanted attention.  Felix, however, attended high school and college with you, posing as a fellow student and never looking out of place, always appearing gentle and ordinary and kind.  Behind that, he is a lethally competent bodyguard.  Your skinny, freckled, fair-haired watchdog can subdue any adversary. 

Including the one tonight. 

“I was just doing my job,” Felix says.  He closes your bedroom door and locks it out of habit even though you are home alone.  He is still completely uncaring to your crisis, as fucking usual, wandering around like he is a sensitive little lamb, smiling and content. 

You throw yourself down on your bed with a dramatic heave. 

“You broke his arm!” you cry.   

Felix is standing at your desk, removing his work equipment.  He is dressed like a civilian for the most part, denim pants with a windbreaker and a button-down over a t-shirt.  He lays the jacket over the back of the chair and sighs, looking at his reflection in your vanity mirror.   He runs a hand through his hair, still casual, feathering the dyed locks so they flutter back into place.   

“I was just doing my job,” he repeats.  He undoes the button-down and tosses it aside, then kicks his shoes under the desk.  

Felix is all sharp lines and harsh angles, slender but athletic.  His cheekbones are high, his angular face softened by his dark eyes and endearing freckles.   That sweetness is juxtaposed by the gun harness strapped across his back. 

You swallow.  The harness hits the floor, then he grabs the back of the t-shirt and yanks it swiftly over his head.  It joins the pile of discarded articles. 

He sits on the desk chair with a distracted sigh, dutifully disassembling the gun for an inspection or cleaning or whatever nonsense Felix has decided is more important than your conversation.  

“His arm,” you repeat.  “You broke his arm.  He was a completely innocent guy!  I’m allowed to flirt with guys!  Just because you’re my daddy’s good dog and he doesn’t let you get your dick wet, doesn’t mean I have to suffer too.” 

Felix looks at you, his mouth a thin line with his unamused smile. 

“Cute,” he says.  He drops the smile and his distinctive deep voice drops another decibel when he says, “You can flirt.  Just not with him.”

“His arm—”

Felix closes the gun and puts it on the desk. 

“I think he was lucky I didn’t rip it off for grabbing you like that, don’t you think?”  Felix says.  He asks it so nicely too, tipping his head imploringly, like he really wants an answer.  Not that he waits.  Just as soon as the smile comes, it goes, replaced with a eye roll as he gets to his feet. 

“Get ready for bed,” Felix says.  “And, mmm, that’s not a request by the way.  I’m phoning your dad to tell him we’re home safe.” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, just leaves the room while reaching into his back pocket for his phone.  He closes the door behind himself, leaving you to fume by your lonesome. 

Out of rebellious frustration, you do not budge an inch.  You cross your arms and sit back on your bed, still dressed in your evening outfit.  You can distantly hear Felix speaking in a formal voice and it makes you twitch with anticipation. 

Felix being so professional is simultaneously his most annoying and most attractive quality.  Annoying, because he really never falters on the clock.  Attractive, because it wouldn’t be any fun pushing him to the boundaries of his rules if he wasn’t such a stickler in the first place.

When Felix returns, still wearing nothing more than his jeans, his expression immediately turns exasperated.  He closes the door and puts his hands on his hips, staring down at you.  

You stare straight ahead, arms and ankles crossed.   You and Felix have shared a bed since the day he was hired, back when you were teenagers, as you were in the habit of sneaking out at night.  You were not intimidated by the chubby-cheeked teenage boy, gleefully slipping past him while he slumbered – until suddenly you were being yanked back through the window.  You learned the hard way that despite his appearance and disposition, he was an especially skilled martial artist.    

As your father continues to accrue enemies in every market, you cannot live life on your own, not without endangering it.  You still need Felix.  You still share a bed.  Everything you do, you do with Felix, whether you like it or not.  Felix expresses little feeling on that front, a perpetual font of seeming sunshine when he isn’t breaking someone’s arm.

You know you are being mightily petulant by keeping him up, but you don’t care.   If you can’t have what you want then neither can he.   You can stay up all night, just staring and glaring at each other contemptuously.  You are happy to let all that mutual disdain simmer through its achingly slow burn. 

“Really?”  Felix says.  “Do we have to do this tonight?” 

“I’m not doing anything,” you say.   

“Right.”  He laughs dryly but sits gingerly on his side of the bed.  He smiles, his eyes crinkling sweetly with pleasure.  His hair is getting longer again, sweeping his neck, and you watch as he delicately tucks some behind his ear.   He leans on one arm, looking at you.  “I’ll ask you nicely then, sweetheart.” 

Ooh, that’s a low blow and he knows it.  The word sweetheart always sounds so rich in his mouth, his accent softening the heart of it.  Hopefully he misses the way you melt, but you doubt it. 

His smile only deepens. 

“Please, please get ready for bed,” he says.  “It’s been a long day, yeah?  And we’re both so tired.  Come on.  Let’s go.  Just need some rest I think.  Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” 

You do not move.    

You hear him sigh, a melodic sound.  He runs his hand through his hair again. 

“All right,” he says, soulfully.  “All right.  Fine.” 

You hear the sharper inflection in his tone but you react a moment too late.  Your bed is big, big enough you could starfish without even brushing his side of the bed, so it takes you a second to scamper to the opposite side. 

That second is too long.  Felix reaches out and grabs you by the calf, dragging you across the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, kicking at him to no avail.   “I’ll phone my dad!”

He is completely undeterred by your dramatics, only sighing when he hauls you over his lap. 

“Go ahead,” he says.  “I’m allowed to use, uhhh, what’d he say… discretion… mm… to discipline you if I think I need to.” He puts his phone within your reach.  It is not a genuine gesture of goodwill so much as it is taunting you because you both know your father would take his side.   “Well?” he asks.  “Do you want to phone him?”   

“I hate you,” you say.

“I know,” he replies.  “Sorry.” 

He sounds like he means it, though it’s hard to believe him when he flicks up your dress and swings his open palm across your ass.  His hand comes down four more times before he neatly fixes your skirt again. 

“Bed time?” he asks brightly, like everything has been solved with no problem. 

You crawl off his lap while grumbling irritably, doing your best to ignore the smarting on your behind when you turn over to glare at him.  He is just smiling at you, that thin-lipped way he smiles with dry humour. 

“I hate you,” you say again. 

He waves his hand, gesturing the vaguest, blandest sentiment of meh with its wiggle.  

“I’m just doing my job,” he says for the millionth time. 

“Really?” you reply with as much sarcasm as he usually gives.  He hears it, tilting his head like a curious cat, as if he has no idea why you could possibly be upset with him – though the stupid little upturn to his lips tells you that he knows exactly why.  

You hate him.  You really, really do hate him.  You have never hated anyone the way you hate him and you want to shout it from the roof.  But you can’t do that.  You can only say it to his face in private, in whatever way you can.  

You reach without warning, cupping the bulge between his legs and finding a lot more than a denim crinkle.  His gaze darkens, his hand covering yours warningly, though he doesn’t lift it away.

You adopt a saccharine sweet tone when you speak.

“Do you tell my daddy that when you discipline me you get hard?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. 

He moves your hand to his thigh instead, shaking his head. 

“Stop being silly,” he says.  “Go get ready for bed.” 

Your eyes follow him as he stands.  He doesn’t get far when you grab his belt loop and tug him back.   Felix has fast reflexes and is incredibly coordinated, so you find it hard to believe you sincerely bested him, but he stumbles as if you did.   He stands where you want him, where he’s close enough for you to kneel on the bed and press your face right against his bulge. 

He says your name in a warning voice, his already deep voice dropping more.

“I wonder…” you say, nuzzling your nose against the ridge in the denim, where you can feel him hard and getting harder still.  “When my daddy asks you what we do all day,” you say, flicking your eyes up to his, “do you tell him your dick spends more time in my mouth than in your pants?”

His nostrils flare with his next breath. 

You smile, victorious. 

“He still thinks you’re his perfect soldier, doesn’t he?” you ask.  “You can do no wrong.  Little does he know…”

“I do my job,” Felix says.  “And I do a good job.  Okay? That’s all that matters.”   

You start to open your mouth, one hand climbing towards his fly.   You stop with a gasp when he fists a chunk of your hair, tugging your head away from him.  It sends a hot shock rippling through you, flooding you with the recollection of all the times he grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, the times he cupped your head and put himself in your mouth despite knowing better, the number of times he fucked between your pretty lips and forgot to be proper, cursing so much it was practically poetry. 

This time he guides you away and you whimper miserably.  He does not loosen his grip, his fingers threading closer to your scalp so it both hurts less and holds stronger.   He knows better than to just let go.   He knows you perfectly.  You glare at him. 

“Look at me,” he says, because your gaze dropped to his bulge again.  “I said look at me.”   He tugs your hair so you obey, giving him your most annoyed expression.  “You’re listening, yeah?” he says.  He doesn’t wait for an answer.  “You’re going to go to your closet.  Get ready for bed.  Sleep.  You’re going to do that,” his voice turns frighteningly pleasant, “or I’m going to carry you over there and get you ready myself.” 

“Like when we were leaving the club tonight?” you ask just as sweetly.  “And you put me over your shoulder then, oops, something happened when we were in the limo, didn’t it?” 

He lets go of you, exhaling tiredly in a high-pitched breath.

“Where did all your pretty rings go, Felix?” you ask, reaching for his bare hand, usually adorned with rings.  “Did they fall on the floor in the limo when you decided you had to shove your hand up my skirt?”   

Leaving the club, you were both wired.  Felix was honestly justified in breaking that guy’s arm.  You purposefully chose the creepiest, shadiest guy in the club to lead on, knowing Felix would appear two seconds later to rescue you.   He always does.  No one else ever pays you any personal attention and your life is too complicated for romance, so you thrive on the feeling of someone caring enough to always find you – even if it’s literally his job. 

You also like getting mad at him for overreacting, but you like his overreactions.   Him twisting and breaking that creep’s arm honestly turned you on.  It also got Felix all worked up, a bit pissed because you were being irresponsible again but nonetheless heated.  You thought for sure he’d take you home and go crazy and fuck you in the foyer.  Instead he put up the limo divider and one-by-one removed his rings, giving you ample time to refuse before he covered your mouth tightly and slid his other hand up between your thighs. 

Of course, despite bringing you to the edge several times, he never let you finish.  Because he’s the worst. 

And now you’re all worked up and he’s shirtless and being a stupid, pretty, two-faced bitch.

“I—”  you start. 

He rolls his eyes and says, “I know. I know.  You hate me.  Now go.”

You get up, stomping all the way to your walk-in closet.  You can’t even slam the door because it’s a sliding one, but you make the biggest possible demonstration of closing it anyway. 

You get ready for bed.   You briefly consider dressing provocatively or even strolling out there naked, but in the end you decide to just dress in your ugly, comfy, over-sized t-shirt and march angrily back into the room. 

Felix is gone when you return, probably off to double-check the house security one last time before joining you.   You could try climbing out the window and down the terrace, just to be ridiculous, but he’ll catch up sooner than later and be even more annoying about it.   So you get into bed and turn off the lights, laying down with a huff, blankets pulled up to your chin. 

You get a bit dozy before Felix returns, the creaking door snapping you awake.  You look over your shoulder and watch him finally shuck the jeans.  He gets into bed in his boxers, removing his earrings once under the covers.  He puts on the bedside table, then double-checks his gun is in the drawer, then and then only then does he lay down. 

The big bed leaves an ocean of space between you.  You roll over to face him.  His eyes are closed but there’s no way he is already asleep. 

“Felix,” you whisper, even though the big house is empty, “I’m cold.”

“There’s another blanket in the closet,” he says without opening his eyes. 

You slide across the bed, close enough to reach out and put a hand on his chest.  He opens his eyes and stares straight up. 

“I need a cuddle,” you say.  “Or I’ll have nightmares.” 

“You’re not a child anymore,” he says. 

That is maybe one thing you miss about the time before you and Felix started… this.  When things were still innocent between you, he would often let you snuggle up with him.  Now, he keep his distance.  Now, he doesn’t hug or hold you. 

So no one does.    

“We’re still young,” you say, a dumb argument, but you’re tired and out of ideas. 

“I was never as young as you,” he grumbles, more to himself than you.  He seems to realize what he said and shakes his head.  He pats your hand on his chest then rolls over, leaving his back to you. 

You slowly return your hand to yourself, staring at the back of his head with an uncharacteristic prickling of tears. 

Felix doesn’t talk about his life before this.  You just know that it was somehow worse.   Worse than being a watchdog.  Worse than giving up years of his life to protect someone else.   Worse than the times your father wanted to discipline you but learned that if he hit you directly you would just patch yourself up and move on, but if he hit Felix then you would break down and offer anything to make him stop.  

You can see a couple faded scars from those times, faint lines that cross his back, remnants of old belt lashings.  You touch one now, tracing your finger lightly from one end to the other.  You watch a shiver roll down his spine.   He doesn’t turn around. 

Giving up, you roll away, back to your distant side of the bed.  You close your eyes and will yourself to sleep, but it just makes you well up with tears.  You sniffle, rubbing your nose messily on the back of your arm.    

Fabric rustles.  You suck in a breath when Felix slides up behind you, pulling you into the middle of the bed where he holds you snugly in his arms.   You immediately roll to face him, throwing a leg over his hip and burying your face in his neck. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, nothing else. 

“I hate you,” you say, then press a kiss just under his jaw.

“I know.”  He cups the back of your head as your kisses move down his neck.  “I know.” 

You make it to the middle of his chest before he turns you onto your back and gets up over you.  He kisses you properly, thumbs wiping your tears as his mouth makes you forget about the reason you cried at all.  All that matters is kissing him back, wrapping your legs around his hips and pulling him close as possible.  His sounds of pleasure are so deep and rough and rumbling. 

“Fuck me, please, please,” you say, pushing your fingers into his hair. 

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“You know we can’t do that,” he says. 

“We’ve done it before,” you say, purposefully canting your hips to rub against him, reminding him you are still so hot and wet from his finger-fucking, that only stupid underwear keeps you apart.  It has the desired effect, his brow furrowing as he holds himself still above you.  You peck his lips and string your arms around his neck.  “You know I’m on birth control now for that reason,” you say, a little sweetly, smiling up at him.  “Remember?”

He drops his face in the crook of your neck and makes an even crazier sound, shaking his head. 

“That was very, very irresponsible of us, you know,” he says. 

“Mhm,” you say, sliding your hand down his body to his waistband.  “It really was.  But it felt good, didn’t it?   Dangerous.  Coming inside me like that.”

Felix is right; that incident was very irresponsible.  You had already started your little cat-and-mouse game and ran out of condoms one night.  Because the two of you only have sex with each other, when that happened, you usually just fooled around until he pulled out. 

That time was… a lot.   You were pressed so tightly together and you were being painfully quiet because you weren’t home alone.  It was such a stupid time to mess around, but common sense leaves you when Felix is involved. 

That feeling is mutual.  Felix knew better too.   If he got you pregnant… the fallout with your father would be catastrophic for both of you.   Still, for that moment he was inside you, with your fingers laced together and pressed by your head, with your legs tight around him and his face in your neck, nothing else seemed to exist.  You were two normal people who were allowed to do whatever they wanted with whoever they wanted.  It was a breathless, momentary fantasy, holding him tight and telling him to come, shuddering at the noise he made as he did just that.   You didn’t even panic after the fact.   You let the moment linger for as long as it could, still pretending you were normal, still pretending it was fine. 

You started birth control soon after, telling your father it was to regulate your period.   He waved it off, not wanting to hear more.  

Your father has truly never suspected a thing.  He doesn’t see the people around him as people, just objects, so it makes sense that he sees nothing in Felix but a soldier.  He doesn’t know anything about Felix.  Doesn’t know the pattern of his freckles or how his eyes crinkle up when he smiles.  Doesn’t know he has a sweet tooth and will dump a thing of sugar in nearly everything.  Doesn’t know what he finds funny, doesn’t know what makes him sad, doesn’t know anything at all.  

You drag your calf up the back of his leg.

“Felix,” you say. 

He gives you no chance to say more.  One second you are in limbo, the very next he has shoved down both his boxers and your underwear and is already pressing into you.  Only nonsense leaves your lips after that, your eyes closing as he works your body like a familiar and well-loved instrument.   He knows it as well as you do.  As you do his.  It’s easy to work him up, to get him as close as you. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, changing position so he’s kneeling.  He puts one of your legs up against his chest, levelling you with an amused smile.  “You’re trying to get me to finish first,” he says. 

“What? Noooo…”  Your giggle turns into a gasp.  You can be as loud as you want but you bite your fist anyway, hiccupping with a choked back sob of pleasure when he finds an angle that makes you see stars. 

“Yes, you are,” he says.  “But you won’t win.” 

“I will,” you say.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “Sure.” 

He makes you come twice before he does.  He even starts pushing you towards a third but you are so oversensitive that it makes tears fall.  He cups your chin and looks at you, cursing. 

“You’re so mean,” you say, smiling through your tears.  “Getting off to me crying.”

“I’m—not—I just—”

“Liar,” you tease.  “You totally are.”

He just giggles.  Then he flips a switch and goes from cute to something else, grabbing your throat and fucking into your oversensitive pussy so good and hard that you cry out.

“Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he says.  “Got you.  Got you.  I—”

You kiss him and he comes, sinking into you with dick and tongue and breath, filling you and surrounding you.  

You hold him close, arms tight around him, his sweaty forehead pressed to yours.   When he tries to lift away, you pull him back, making him laugh softly. 

“Stay,” you say, and repay his torture by squeezing him inside you, knowing it will make him twitch and jerk with oversensitivity of his own. 

“You never make it easy for me, do you,” he says with no animosity. 

You shake your head and smile like you’re proud of that.  He laughs then kisses you.   The kiss is good and thorough and sweet, completely loving, affectionate.  It gets your heart racing despite everything you just did.  You rest your hands on his chest and gently push him back. 

“I still hate you,” you say, because you have to say it, because the opposite would be too dangerous to ever say.  You can’t even let that word enter your thoughts, certainly never let it leave your lips.  If you held that word in your mouth for even a second, you would become addicted to it.   So you glare at him with all passion you can muster and say,   “I hate you so much.”   You sniffle when he wipes your tears away.   You turn your face.  “I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anyone.” 

“I know,” he says in a strained voice.  He presses his forehead to your temple and exhales.   “I know, sweetheart.” 

DESTINY’S DESIGN, lee minho

⎯⎯ pairs ‣‣‣ lee minho x fem!reader ⎯⎯ rating ‣‣‣ 16+ ⎯⎯ genre ‣‣‣ enemies to lovers ‣ strangers to lovers ‣ prince!minho ‣ princess!reader ‣ arranged marriage ‣ married!au ‣ royal!au ⎯⎯ warnings ‣‣‣ arranged marriage ‣ women having no rights 🥴 ‣ horrible historical accuracy ‣ inappropriate language ‣ food mentions ‣ sword fighting [training only] ⎯⎯ word count ‣‣‣ 16.4k words ⎯⎯ notes ‣‣‣ i made many promises that i would bring back two (maybe three) of my old royal!au's and this is the first of that <3 the story is easily a personal favourite of mine, i love their dynamic far too much.... and i also may write a smut drabble for this couple as a sort of sequel if people are into that <3

The first time you met Prince Minho was the day your engagement was announced. A chess piece in the politics of royal life, it didn’t even matter that you were only ten years old - for as a princess it was your duty to look after the kingdom. It had been a celebratory ball for the Kingdom of Elaria and its triumph over the beast which had been plaguing it, and yet the King and Queen of Elaria (as well as your own parents) found it best to announce their plans for a treaty that night.

As the princess of the Kingdom of Narin, it was your role to play in the treaty. Just as it was Prince Minho’s job to play his. No one dared consider both of you children - despite your being ten and Minho eleven - because they were far too focused on the possibility of peace between the two strongest kingdoms in the land. 

While you had worn a bright smile at the announcement and played your part as perfectly as one could, on the inside you were screaming. Why was it expected of you to have to create peace, you were but a child, when there were plenty of adults with experience who could unite the two kingdoms in their own ways. Neither your parents nor the King and Queen of Elaria had been forced into an arranged marriage, and yet it was being forced onto you and Prince Minho.

Perhaps that was why, once the ball was over and you were escorted back to your carriage with your heavily pregnant mother, you had glared fire toward the future king of Elara… your future husband. He, unsurprisingly, glared right back at you with as much fury before bowing to your father as he big the royal family goodbye. 

Your mother had seen the exchange and hugged you in comfort once inside of the carriage. I am sorry, my dear, she had whispered into your ear while you attempted to not sully either of your gowns with salty tears, it is for the best. 

You understood that peace was always the most important thing when it came to politics, but you couldn’t help your jealousy toward your parents. When your mother was a princess she was free to marry whomever she wanted - specifically the stable boy, your father, who she had grown enamoured with. It was precisely that which made your situation a reality, the kingdom of Narin had fallen after a non-royal was sworn in as king.

At least your father was a great king and a great father. It may have even been that which fueled your jealousy and anger even more, why couldn’t he be like the evil royals in the fairytales your mother would read to you at night. Even after your mother passed away during the birth of your triplet siblings, he was still the caring father you always knew.

Your curiosity about your supposed fiance had landed you in your current situation; standing on the balcony of the Elarian castle while, yet another, ball went on behind you. It had been ten years since your first, and only, meeting with Prince Minho and you had managed to sneak your way into the ball with your royal advisor, Chan, and personal knight Changbin. 

Bringing them with you was the only way neither of them would inform your father of your plan to infiltrate the kingdom. It wasn’t that you had anything bad planned for him, rather you just wanted to learn about someone you were destined to rule a kingdom with, but you knew that your father would never allow you to leave with only two means of protection. He had grown ever so protective over you and your brothers since your mother’s passing.

The feathery mask you had worn to the masquerade ball was still cast over the top half of your face, just in case someone tried to come onto the balcony - you couldn’t allow anyone to know you were the princess of Narin. Especially before the treaty, and your marriage, were finalised, the people of Elaria still held a certain disdain for your kingdom. 

Chan had already been escorted away by a woman wearing a black feathered mask while Changbin had been caught in a conversation with another knight he had known in training, Jisung. Meaning you were giving the space you needed out in the cool air of the night, exactly what you had been needing through the tension of stupid Prince Minho refusing to show up for his own ball.

The Kingdom of Elaria was known to throw balls for unneeded reasons, case in point, the current ball celebrating Prince Minho’s departure for Narin in two days’ time. The only reason that Elaria wasn’t shamed by all the other kingdoms was because of its overarching power in wealth and strength. Had it been your kingdom wasting utilities in the way Elaria was, there would be a mutiny formed between the two other kingdoms of the land.

“I didn’t realise that another person would be out here,” stopping yourself from leaning on the castle railings and straightening your back, what kind of princess gets caught with such awful posture, you turned to look at the man who intruded on your privacy. He wore a dark red and black suit, with a matching mask across the top half of his face, and you caught yourself staring into the deep brown eyes watching you from the mask. “I’ll give you your space.”

You turned away from the man, in an attempt to ignore the slight fluttering in your chest at how he was watching you, and looked up at the night sky - admiring the stars dancing along the black abyss. “It is quite alright, you may stay.” You glanced back into the ballroom through the windows of the balcony door, it was still overflowing with people in their finest attire and all wearing masks. Only the King and Queen were exempt from the mask rule, the two watching from a slight tower and talking with a palace guard. “I don’t blame anyone for wanting to escape the crowd.”

They had to be asking after their eldest son. This party was in his honour after all and yet he doesn’t feel like showing up? What kind of husband was he to make, or a king for that matter? 

“I take it that you aren’t a fan of dances?” The man came to your side and looked up at the stars with you, his cologne invading your senses. The crest of the Elarian kingdom was pressed into the cuff of his suit jacket, gold lines forming the unfortunately familiar symbol. Soon that very thing would be delicately pressed into your own clothing, marking you like a piece of property to create peace. 

You looked to his face, only to see the man already looking at you, his eyes rushing over the parts of your face in view, perhaps to try and recognise you. “Not in the slightest,” you smiled at him, “I only came here for one reason.”

“Let me guess - a beautiful woman like you,” you tried your best to not physical show how flustered his compliment made you. As a princess, you were subject to many compliments by many different people, it was something you had to grow used to early on, and yet when this stranger called you beautiful you felt butterflies in your stomach, “must be searching for the prince.”

With a roll of your eyes and a groan, two very un-princessly actions that the people of your royal court often berated you for. “Unfortunately, you would be correct.” You tried your best to keep a strong smile on, as you had been taught to do since birth, but you were sure that the stranger could see the tenseness in your jaw and the clenching of your teeth. “And yet the man of the hour has yet to grace us with his presence.”

A teasing smirk found its way onto the man’s face, “I take it you are a part of his fan club, then?”

The knowledge that Prince Minho actually had a fan club, and that it was not just a rumour that Chan had teased you with, made you want to gag. It was no surprise that he couldn’t be bothered to show up at his own ball, it seemed that everyone would send him praise no matter what it was that he did. If you were the one in his place, you shuddered to think of the laws you would be breaking as the future queen. 

But, of course, the future king was free of punishment. He got everything he wanted, was free to do whatever it was he wanted - and you were stuck having to twist yourself in circles just so that you would be given a second look, instead of ignored for being a woman.

“What gave me away then, sir? Was it that I discussed him with an obvious lack of enthusiasm?”

He shook his head, “No, not that.”

While you were curious to ask him more, it wasn’t often you encountered a man that allowed you to joke around, and even play along with them, the sight of Changbin gesturing you inside with frantically wide eyes pulled you back into reality. You dusted off the skirt of your ballgown and cleared your throat, a little tradition you put yourself through before formal appearances.

Yes, they did not know you were the princess of Narin, but you couldn’t afford to be caught unprepared.

“I shall see you inside then,” you walked away from the balcony railing and to the door, looking over your shoulder to smile at the man. “I am off to go and find the prince.”

“Or,” the man walked up to your place in front of the glass balcony door and caught you in his piercing stare, making you freeze in place. He was standing tall in front of you, making you try and match his height by straightening your back and pushing your chest forward, but it still failed, “you could allow me the privilege of a dance?”

Your mother always used to say you could tell a lot about a man in the way he carried himself. She had told you all about how that was what originally drew her to your father, and described him as confident and compassionate despite his lower-class status. That even as the princess who was meant to marry a prince, she was always meant to fall in love with him. 

From the way the man had glided the pair of you to the centre of the ballroom, the way he placed his hand upon your waist and secured your hand in his - you were sure that your mother would have approved of him immediately. Confidence is a very handsome quality, she would tell you when placing her usual three sugars into her tea, however never confuse confidence with conceit. The two are a fickle pair, my love, and do not allow any man to trick you with it.

The man was very obviously a confident person. From his proud smirk as he directed the waltz between you both, obviously aware of the multiple eyes watching him, and the straight posture of his back. The way he spoke, in terms of grammar and wording, showed a history of education - something not a lot of people were fortunate enough to be gifted with - and he was nothing if not observant. A man from a high place in society, if you had to guess, the only question being what position did he hold in the world’s hierarchy.

He twirled you with ease, if you were to hazard a guess he was a trained dancer, and smirked your way. The warmth radiating off of him was nearly sweltering with each sway of the dance, the duos of people dancing around you doing nothing to help alleviate you of the heat. Was there a chance that the confident man knew of your predicament?

Because after the next spin he leaned in close, pressing his sharply dressed chest against the corset trapping your own, and whispered into your ear. “You are a lovely dancer, my lady.” Over his shoulder you could see Chan looking directly at you too, a big smile on his face that made you want to cry aloud - while you did care for Chan, he was far too invested in your love life. 

“I could say the same thing for you, sir,” the words seemed to be interwoven with a certain poison that did not suit a princess, and yet you found yourself slowly getting addicted to that feeling he brought out in your veins. You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, finding the man, once again, already looking at you and smirking. “Am I going to learn your name?”

He shook his head and squeezed your waist slightly, “Names are meaningless in this world,” his words seemed filled with spite despite the quiet tone he spoke with, as though if someone heard him mutter them something horrid may occur, “all that matters is whether you can be used as a chess piece for politics.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, good sir.” 

Nearly word for word had this strange man conveyed emotions that it seemed only you felt. You had always tried your best to keep your frustration at bay, especially when it came to your younger brothers (by ten years) but the older you were getting and the closer you were getting to the wedding date, your anger was getting harder to bear. Why was it that you were to be sold off to another kingdom while three ten-year-olds were to be trusted to overlook the kingdom you could rule yourself?

Why were they free to make their own choices while you were stuck under the choices of the royal court? 

“Then, it is agreed,” the violins playing around you were winding up to the climax, and ultimate ending, of the song - and the pace of the dance joined in the speed of the music. His eyes through the mask seemed to be the only things not moving along with the violins, rather they were staring into your own with a grounded stillness, “no names are to be shared.”

Though you had no plans of telling the man your true name and rank in the world’s hierarchy, the confirmation from the man himself snapped a tight cord in your stomach and allowed your shoulders to sink slightly. A princess should never be too relaxed, Lady Belvielle would always chide during your lessons as if you would pay attention to her words. Yes, you were royal, but you had also been a child who simply wanted to run in the field with the others.

“It seems you have taken the words from my mouth, once again, sir.” The song came to an end and, once again, you saw Changbin gesturing you to his side - with both him and Chan standing off to the side of the ballroom beside the exit. You removed his hands from your waist and took a step back, the butterflies in your stomach dissipating at the lack of warmth from him. “It was a lovely dance, sir, but I really must be leaving now.”

You always knew you were meant to leave early in the night, it was the only way that the three of you could sneak back into the castle without your father knowing. Or your brothers catching you and using it as blackmail, the little devils. Though you knew this, you were angry at yourself (and especially Prince Minho) for not learning about your fiance.

Which was the entire purpose of you sneaking out of the castle in the first place.

“But, you never told me of your fascination with the prince…”

Just what had made this man so curious about why you were at the ball in the first place? Why you were also just as curious as to why he was at the ball, about who he was in the world, but you weren’t asking him questions about that. While both of you were educated and, clearly, trained in the etiquettes of political life, you were sure that your hesitancy to ask came rooted in your differences in said education.

The Kingdom of Elaria as well as your home in Narin were two very different kingdoms, however, both were very similar in the ways they educated and train the people who could afford it. As in while the men were treated like human beings and were gifted the ability of choice, you were stuck being told of your role to please the males in your life.

The constant comments from Lady Belvielle about how your baby brothers were all better than you were a reminder of your situation. Every time she would mutter those words, you would have to bite your tongue at the fact only one of them was able to properly use cutlery during mealtimes.

As a woman, princess or not, you had to keep silent even if all you wanted to do was scream. And yet, you smiled at the stranger, hoping to convey the slight mischievousness you felt burning through your taught behaviours. “A lady must always be two steps ahead, sir.” You took another step away from the man, already feeling cold from the removal of his warm chest pressed against your own. “I, however, prefer to be four.”

It was a rare opportunity that you were able to run around the palace grounds with your brothers, but it was one you took in spades whenever presented to you. You were far too old to be playing around like that of a child, but when your three brothers had come running up to you and interrupting your readings on the history of Elaria. You had decided long ago that if you were meant to become the queen of the Kingdom of Elaria, you would at least do your best to know of the kingdom’s history, its triumphs and its downfalls. 

But you had eagerly put the book away and chased the three ten-year-olds out into the palace gardens for a game. Now, the sun has risen to the centre of the sky and you’d seen many of the palace maids rushing around in a panic - most likely because of the lunch hour ringing closer and closer. 

You were hiding atop one of the trees in the palace garden, your everyday heels laid resting on the grass below to give you better traction against the wood. Your youngest brother had decided to play a game of chase, with himself as the chaser, and you were not willing to let him win just because he was a child. Meaning, you decided to use the fact none of them were able to climb large trees against them.

It had been your mother who taught you to climb the tallest trees in the palace, while your father would stand on the ground and watch with slight panic as you both would climb higher and higher. She had even been able to do so in the largest and most beautiful gowns that a queen could have worn, her golden crown barely slipping off her head as she jumped up the trees. 

Your brothers did not share the same opportunity, and you were too protective over the memories to share them with the boys. They were allowed the freeness to do whatever they wished without judgement, so you rationalised that you could hold onto your only memories of the same thing. 

Palace maids and guards rushed around the garden, vain attempts to track down your brothers and yourself for mealtime. However, once you noticed Mrs Belvielle out amongst the maids and calling your name in her usual venomous tone, you pulled yourself higher into the tree to remain hidden. Had she caught you in the tree, dirt covering your gown and face with twigs complimenting the tilted crown on your head, you would be in for severe punishment. 

Your youngest brother was found relatively fast, his forearm grasped tightly in Mrs Belvielle’s hand as she berated him and wagged her pointy finger at the boy. She dragged him over to where your shoes were, discarded on the bench in front of the large tree you were hiding in, and moved that finger of hers to the evidence.

You’d never been so thankful for Mrs Belvielle having been chosen as your tutor after your mother had passed, she had never learnt of your ability to climb the trees in the garden. “Where if you daft sister, boy?” Her evil tone directed at your brother made your fingers clench around the branch you held onto, he was but a child and undeserving of her hatred. He shrugged his shoulders, something you knew that Mrs Belvielle hated everyone to do, not just yourself. “Use your words! We are educated people here, not lowlife scum!”

“I do not know, ma’am,” his voice was so frail and your heart clenched for your baby brother. He was the timid one out of the three and had always struggled under hateful stares - you were prepared to lose your place as the princess and slap Mrs Belvielle across her face, much like she would do to you during your punishments. “She has hidden, along with the rest of my brothers.”

The middle brother of the triplets was still hidden amongst the overgrown statues in the garden, perhaps the most silent and still you had ever seen him, while the eldest brother was being tugged into the castle by one of his chambermaids. “Blasted girl,” Mrs Belvielle cursed, her hand still tightly wrapped around your baby brother’s forearm, “she knows of what is happening today.”

Did you?

It was common that your father would inform you of the happenings of the kingdom, even if your presence wasn’t technically needed for the role. He enjoyed getting your opinions on what he should do or just what your opinion on certain matters was. There was an incredibly good chance that he had told you about what was happening in the castle today - however, you were not one to forget about these things. As a lady, you had to remember everything taught just to ensure no one would mark you as lesser, and yet you had no clue what was happening today.

Which was not a good thing at all, especially if your father had sent out your hated (which he did know) tutor, Mrs Belvielle. 

“He has already been waiting for five minutes,” she threw down your brother’s arm with spite and gestured toward one of the guards walking toward them both. The guard took your brother from her, something you were rather happy about, and lead him inside, “she is not going to ruin this treaty.”

Mrs Belvielle took your shoes and stomped away to find you and the final triplet, who was no longer hidden amongst the statues. You crawled over to the edge of the branch and looked around for him, spotting the ten-year-old prince running toward the tree where you were hidden. None of the guards nor chambermaids were following him, a feat you were shocked to have seen accomplished, and so you made your way toward the centre of the tree and started climbing down.

You were sure that pieces of bark, as well as grime, were ingraining themselves under your fingernails and toughening your feet as you lowered to the ground. When you landed, with a slight huff and stretch of your fingers to alleviate the slight pain, your brother stared at you with wide eyes.

“Why are you still out here! You were meant to be in the throne room long ago!” His words were rushed, and he continued to stare around the grounds at the guards and chambermaids - one of whom spotted you both and announced his finding of you. As if finding you would award him some prize from the king. 

Why was it that everyone except for you seemed to have known what was happening today? “What exactly are you talking about?” 

“Prince Minho!” 

Oh no. How could you have forgotten that today was the day that Prince Minho was arriving at your kingdom? It had been on the forefront of your mind for the majority of the previous week, and yet after you snuck back home from the ball at his castle - you were too focused on your studies to even think of the prince.

No wonder Chan had been fretting over you all day before you had left to play with your brothers. He had been making sure your hair was done perfectly, your dress suited your frame nicely and that your chambermaids had ensured you would be punctual. All of which were no longer so; your dress was covered in grime, your hair tangled with multiple leaves and you were running behind schedule.

“How could you forget!”

“If I learn of the answer, I’ll ensure you be the first one I tell.”

Picking up the skirt of your gown, you rushed into the castle with many of the maids and guards following you - you were sure they doubted you to go to the throne room on your own. It wasn’t exactly hidden news within the castle that you were unhappy with your engagement to Prince Minho. Your bare feet were crushing against the rocky paths in the gardens, you were desperate to curse out Mrs Belvielle for taking your shoes, and your tangled hair was whipping around in the wind, your crown luckily holding it in place.

How had you not gathered that the prince would be arriving today, Chan had forced you to wear your crown of all things! You knew you were smarter than that, and your little mistake was most likely to reflect poorly of you to the royal court and your future kingdom. Your throat felt as though it was being filled with sand as you ran through the mudbrick walls of your palace, the throne room being on the other side of the castle, what if your tardiness would end up with the engagement being cancelled? 

While the thought had created a stir of joy within your chest, the weight of your position as princess poisoned any relief you felt at the thought. If you did not go through with the engagement to Prince Minho, did not become the Queen of Elaria, then your home of Narin would be overrun and left for dead. 

You knew that there were worse things in the world to have happen to someone, your pain was coming from how you were being made a queen of all things, yet you couldn’t help your selfish sorrows. All you longed for was a choice in your own life, and yet you weren’t even gifted a choice in the dresses your wore every day.

The familiar large doors of the throne room stood tall in front of you, making you skid against the tiled floors of the castle and huff to catch your breath. More guards and maids were following you and calling your name, you even spotted Changbin running toward you with mad eyes, begging you to go to them before entering simply. But you couldn’t allow that - you were already late enough for the meeting as is.

And so you pushed the doors open and glided your way in, head held high while you straightened the crown rested atop your head. The skirt of your gown kissed the tiled flooring of your father’s throne room and you wore a bright, if tense and fake, smile as though you were not the one who was ten minutes late to Prince Minho’s arrival.

Your father, as well as two of your baby brothers, were sitting on their thrones and peering down at you - the two princes biting their lips to avoid laughing while your father was glaring with a fury you only associated with some of the court officials. He was wearing his velvet red robes, lined with the fur of a beast slain in the local village, and sat tall on his king’s throne. You knew that he was disappointed in your being late, and most likely for your decision to ignore your studies and play in the garden with your brothers, but you refused to let it show.

A princess is nothing to those around her if such measly things affect her. The royal court of Narin and the two other kingdoms in the land already despised you enough, if not for being the eldest sibling and female then for your mother’s decision to marry a stable boy instead of a royal. You couldn’t allow them any other reason to want to overthrow your beloved kingdom… your father.

A group of five stood in front of your father. Two of whom wore the armour branded with the royal crest of Elaria, one dressed in the robes of a castle mage and another dressed in an advisor’s uniform. The one who stood proud in the middle, dressed in robes befitting that of a king, was the only one who had turned at your sudden entrance into the room. And with his evil eyes and wicked smirk, you had to assume that was your beloved fiance.

Prince Minho of Elaria, the soon-to-be king.

Your teeth were clenched at the sight of him, still tight in a wide smile you hoped would blind him. How dare he be handsome and dressed to perfection while you wore a gown covered in dirt and hair tangled with leaves, not to mention your lack of shoes due to your so-called tutor. “Prince Minho,” you curtseyed before him and counted down from ten in your mind, your mother always said to do so when you felt like screaming, “it is lovely to see you after all these years.”

His eyes crinkled, the four members of his royal castle turned around to face you, and the prince bowed before you. “I must say the same for you, your highness.” The two knights, one you recognised as Changbin’s old friend Jisung, the mage and the advisor all bowed also. The prince’s head popped back up from his bowing stance and the wicked grin grew, making you halt in place on your way up to your abandoned throne. “There is mud upon your cheek.”

Was it too late for you to climb back up the tree?

After having spent two whole hours with the prince and his group, you had decided that he was going to make a rather awful husband. Your father had decided that it was you who would show the group of five around the castle, instead of Chan as originally planned, as a punishment for being late to the meeting. You had bristled when he decreed it, while the prince grinned at him, but still did your best to keep your true feelings buried deep.

Ten, nine, eight…

The entire tour had been filled with Felix (the other knight) talking to you as though you had been the best of friends, the mage Seungmin barely regarding anyone’s existence around him and Jeongin, the advisor, only joining in the conversation whenever he felt fit. Jisung had spent the majority of the tour watching you with squinted eyes, you had to continuously pretend to have not noticed and only hope he did not recognise you from the ball, but held the conversation between you and Felix well. Finally, there was Prince Minho, who was silent the entire tour unless he wanted to subtly insult you as though you were too dim to realise his true meaning.

It had been a blessing when you finally approached the row of rooms gifted to the five men, and you were finally able to escape them all and hide away in your room. You had practically run back to your bedroom chambers, finding both Chan and Changbin there waiting for you, along with the royal artist Hyunjin.

“All I wanted was for you to make a good impression!” Chan whined from your chair beside the fireplace, Changbin beside him stoking the flames. Had they acted so comfortable while anyone else was in the room, they would have been in for lashing for interacting with you with such commonness - it had taken you years to get them both, as well as Hyunjin, comfortable around you. Perhaps too comfortable considering Chan’s crying over your failed meeting with Prince Minho. “Where did your shoes even go?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed when Hyunjin helped you to tighten your corset of the dinner dress, your father wanted you to look your absolute best for the dinner tonight. “Devil woman stole them,” you grunted out, fingers flexing on your desk as it pulled tighter against your chest, “Christ Hyunjin you could warn a lady!”

“I was under the impression that ladies did not swear,” you could practically feel the smirk from Hyunjin, “I must be confused.”

Changbin scoffed from the fireplace and hung the fire poker away, “You should remember that she can send you to prison for bad-mouthing a royal.” 

The two began bickering, with Chan joining in every so often to provide his own opinions, while you remained quiet, focused on watching the starry sky from your window. You weren’t one for swearing, at least often, but if you ever did it would only be around these three men who you trusted most - your three best friends.

Your mind wandered back to the mysterious man that you met at the ball, the way his mischievous aura had wanted you to spit fire from your lips and dance amongst the flames. There was very little chance of you being able to meet the man again, but your heart was longing for it. He seemed to have posed as some figure of freedom in your mind, despite you not even knowing his name, and presented himself as your wants if you were gifted the ability of choice.

Somehow he had made you feel comfortable enough to want to lower the princess status you constantly compared yourself to. For once, it did not seem to be just out of reach as he shared your views of freedom.

Hyunjin tightened your corset a final time and tied it off, making you cry out as it dragged you back to reality despite your reluctance. You were desperate to stay in that space of delusion where you were free to share your thoughts without the approval of whatever man was closest. “Stop complaining, your highness,” he taunted with a smile, once again causing you to roll your eyes as though you weren’t a princess, “you asked me to help you.”

“I’m beginning to wish I had asked Chan,” you rolled your shoulder and turned back to look at the three men. Chan had discarded part of the uniform he was required to wear as the royal advisor and was left in a thin tunic, while Changbin was fixing up his under-armour for the dinner - your father had assigned him to guard you for the dinner in case of an assassination attempt to you or Prince Minho, “he understands the art of gentleness.”

Chan scoffed and stretched out in your chair, most likely to show that he was sitting in your favourite chair in the entire castle and not you, “There is no such thing as being gentle when it comes to those contraptions you wear.”

“You say that as if I have a choice,” your words were muttered as you pulled the dress on over the underskirt and corset. You were meant to have your chambermaids dress you, as they did all other days, but you had sent them all away for a break before the dinner, meaning you were left to have your own break with your friends. Like any other human would. “What time is this cursed affair, Changbin?”

He was struggling to pull on a part of his armour, so you went over and helped him to lace it up. Many people would have seen the action as the two of you being rather intimate, but this was something you often did for Changbin since you were both children, having grown up together with him always being your personal guard. The only time you two were away from each other for an extended time was when he went to Elaria for proper knight training.

Soon you would be away from him once again, with the wedding only a week away from the current day. You would be away from him, your other friends and your beloved family - all for a stupid agreement. 

Perhaps if you had known your fiance better, your whole purpose for having sneaked out two days earlier, the agreement of peace wouldn’t seem as hateful and terrifying. If you were sworn in to marry Hyunjin instead of a complete stranger you would still be unhappy, sure, but at least you would be comforted with having married a friend. Instead of a man you hated and returned the same emotions.

Never would you see his royal highness as something other than a man you despised. Even more than the men in the royal court.

“Your father wants you there early,” Changbin explained while your fingers quickly tied up his armour. You pulled the armour rather tight at Changbin’s words and quickly apologised to him after he grunted - you were sure that armour being on too tight was far worse than a corset being too tight, “within the hour.”

With his armour successfully on, and you having put on your best pair of heels, Changbin tugged you out of your bedroom chambers. You assumed that by within the hour, he really meant as soon as you were ready, as the knight you called one of your best friends dragged you through the castle halls.

Once you were before the tall doors leading to the dining hall, Changbin stopped and steadied you as you started to tumble. Had he been anyone else you would have cursed him out, but considering the long history you had with your guard, he got a slight pass. Though, you still couldn’t make yourself hold your tongue completely, especially considering the lack of anyone in the halls around you. “A warning is always nice, Binnie.”

“Of course it is,” he helped to straighten out the skirt of your gown while you prepared yourself to enter the hall, knowing that your father was there waiting to have a proper discussion about your earlier mistakes, “but you cannot afford to be late once again, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed your hair behind your shoulders, still getting used to the newer cut that your chambermaids had given you the prior day. “Could you at least try and comfort me before my father attempts to take my head?”

Changbin pouted and, after doing a poor check of the hallway ends for any passing people, placed a dramatic kiss upon your cheek and wrapped his arms around you. “You will be fine, I promise.” He squeezed you tightly to his chest and you took a deep breath. Being in trouble with your father was a rare occurrence for you, but when it happened it was always a dramatic affair. 

He knew that which was why Changbin dared show physical contact toward you at the risk of anyone mistaking the actions for more. Usually, the both of you would be hesitant to show your love for one another, nothing more than familiar, in public - for it was shunned for a princess and her guard to be nothing more than strangers. It was as though none of them even cared that Changbin had been your childhood best friend first and foremost.

Though once Changbin went back to your chambers to collect Chan and ensure Hyunjin left the castle grounds safely, you wished that he hadn’t hugged you and kissed your cheek.  Because, as you opened the doors to the dining hall to meet with your awaiting father, you saw a silhouette quickly turn and run out of the hall - most likely having witnessed your interactions with Changbin.

You could only hope that the silhouette was a figment of your overactive imagination instead of an actual human. 

Jisung, Seungmin and their prince wouldn’t stop staring at you. They were sat at the opposite side of the table, all beside one another with Prince Minho in the middle, and had been glaring at you and Changbin since they first set foot in the dining hall for dinner. You had been wanting desperately to glare back at the trio and had your father not sat at the head of the table you would have done so instantly.

Your father’s chair was placed beside your mother’s - her name still delicately carved into it from when she had been feeling rebellious in her teen years. He sat taller than everyone else in the room and watched over you, and the prince, with tight eyes. He knew of your displeasure with the engagement, as well as Prince Minho’s if the letters from the King and Queen of Elaria were anything to go by, and yet he kept watching you both as if hoping for something.

Yet the only ‘something’ your father would get is the adorable knight Felix being the only one to speak in the tense atmosphere, “We have heard that her highness is a rider? A rather decent one at that.”

“Decent,” your father laughed at the idea and you looked down at your half-finished meal to ignore the oncoming embarrassment. Though there was a part of you that was glad he was still okay with bragging about you - as well as the chance it would make Prince Minho annoyed, “my daughter is the best rider in the kingdom!”

You looked to your left, over Chan and his place at the table, and gave your father a bashful smile. “Only because you are the one to have taught me, father.”

“Exactly right!” His comedically large frame rumbled under his laughter, head slinging back as though you had said something to rival the court jester. “If only I was able to teach your brothers the same talents.”

Jeongin looked up from his plate and eyed your father like that of a fox, “Are you no longer able to ride, your highness?”

“Of course I am!” Your father peered over his wine goblet to stare at the Elarian royal advisor with Jeongin staring right back at him. The three princes of your kingdom sat opposite your father, at the very end of the dining table, all three of their seats together. They were talking amongst each other, with Changbin leaning in to join their conversation every so often, and you looked upon them fondly. It filled your body with warmth to know that your brothers also saw the knight as family. “Those three are just far too erratic for an old man like me.”

“You speak ill of yourself, your highness,” you looked away from your brothers and Changbin to the prince, a sickly sweet grin on his face while he addressed your father. Both Jisung and Seungmin were still glaring your way, however, their prince had turned to stare your father in the eye with a slightly upturned nose. 

Your father smirked behind his goblet and tapped one of his ringed fingers against the metal, “Don’t think me daft for a few simple compliments, Prince Minho.” A princess should never play with her food, something Mrs Belvielle had been constantly reminding you of since she was first chosen to be your tutor, and yet you found yourself pushing one of the remaining vegetables across your plate. Until you felt a slight kick to the side of your left leg and you caught Chan slightly gesturing to your father with his head, making you straighten your back and smile brightly for the whole table. “The King and Queen have already told me of your hesitancy to marry my daughter.”

The prince’s gaze moved to you, once again, and those dark eyes of his burned into your own. “I see,” one of his eyebrows quirked upwards as Prince Minho sipped from his own goblet of wine, a smirk starting to form upon his lips, “I have also heard from my parents that the princess herself is rather opposed to our union…” He placed the goblet down and squinted at you, that devilish smirk on his face only growing in venom. “… perhaps there is a certain reason why.”

His eyes flickered over to Changbin, who had moved back to his place behind you, and you started to glare at the prince. Even if your father caught your actions to the prince, you simply did not care as your ego and reputation grew tarnished under Prince Minho’s hidden accusation. At least you knew why he and two of his followers were watching you the entire dinner, they believed you to be engaging in an affair with Changbin.

How idiotic they were.

“The only reason for my reluctance toward our marriage, your highness,” the words felt like sand to be sat out of your dry mouth. You couldn’t let more of your manners fall when there were far too many people in the room who did not know you well enough, so you had to continue referring to the prince by his titles. Though you were sure that he had done nothing to have truly deserved such things except for being born to the right family, “is from my own beliefs regarding the politics of our world.”

“Then I take that you would not be opposed to informing me of said beliefs?”

“I would be happy to,” your smile grew tense as the two of you stared each other down. There was no chance of the prince sharing your beliefs around arranged marriages and the position of women in the world, it was an insult in your opinion for him to act as though he was. You knew that he was just wanting to gain more of a reason to avoid marrying you, which you would be fine with had you not known that the world would blame you for him breaking off the engagement, “however I do not feel such discussions are to be had over dinner.”

Your father also shared a majority of your beliefs, if the number of debates he had with the court officials over your attendance in their meetings and his own admittance told you of such, however, his tight stare at you said otherwise. You could not give any reason to ruin the marriage, the promise of safety for your kingdom, which you were terrified to do. It may have put your own beliefs aside, but the safety of your people was far more important than your state of ownership.

Though if any of your trusted friends were to give you the opportunity, you would complain about it until the sun went through its daily cycle.

“I see,” Prince Minho’s fingers ran around the base of his goblet, eyes refusing to leave yours. It was as though you had both entered a battle of wits with one another, neither of you stepping down from the unspoken challenge, “then we shall discuss this tomorrow.”

Changbin stepped forward from behind you, his head moved to rest upon your shoulder, “I do not believe that is necessary your highness,” his tone of voice was waving due to his hesitance. You knew that he was trying to keep the best interests of the kingdom, as well as you, in the forefront but simply from his voice you knew that the horrible prince opposite you would tear him apart. Royals did receive the best training in how to wear a mask over your emotions.

“I don’t recall talking to you.” His voice was spiteful, his gaze moved to Changbin with fury and his jaw clenched. You kept your smile wide, though it grew in tenseness, even as Changbin moved away from you due to Prince Minho’s malice. 

You had been slightly expecting for Jisung - a friend of Changbin’s - to have hesitated slightly in his apparent anger toward you, at minimum look at his prince from the corner of his eyes in confusion. But there was nothing, the knight continued to stare at you without pause.

You hoped that he didn’t recognise you from the ball, especially considering how he knew that Changbin had been there that night. All you could hope was that he was daft enough to not tie you both together, or recognise that Chan, too, had been there. They were the people you were closest with, it would only take a few questions to some chambermaids for the clues to align.

“Prince Minho, I would ask you to never speak to my guard like that again.” Smile still wide despite your overactive mind, and the feeling of everyone in the room watching you as your eyes fluttered. As your mother always said, a woman’s best weapon is her innocence - even if it is a lie. “We are to be married despite both of our unhappiness, so please, take your anger out on those who organised it. Not an innocent bystander.”

He leant slightly forward in his seat, “You seem to be looking forward to our wedding despite your apparent frustration, princess.”

“Believe what you wish, your highness, it only proves how idiotic you are.”

“Your words are teasing,” the prince took another sip of his wine from the goblet, “perhaps you are part of my fan club back in Elaria.”

Do not choke. 

A princess does not show her true emotions in public.

Ten, nine, eight…

“Though I have no desire to offend you, I must be honest and say I would rather be beheaded.”

The prince sat back in his chair with a mischievous smirk, something which should not have been attractive in the slightest. “I sense a liar in you, princess.”

The warm candle glow through your chambers kept you awake as you reread the same sentence on the history of Elaria. You were sitting at your desk, only your nightgown providing you warmth through the cold night air, the sigh of your bed to your left growing more and more desiring. Though as much as you longed to crawl into its warmth, you had to catch up on your studies from the day, and so you continued to read over the sentence again and again.

Though the kingdom was founded upon magical properties - magic is a rare trait to come by, with history marking that mages only appear once every hundred years. 

You had already read all about the magical history of Elaria, as well as the supposed rumours of the curse on the royal family, but barely any was sticking in your mind. It was far too late in the evening and too much had happened during the day for you to process more information. 

A loud knock on your chamber doors woke you up from your daydreams of bed. “Come in,” you called out, assuming it to have been your chambermaids with the herbal tea you had requested from the palace mage to help you focus. 

Suffice to say it was not your chambermaid with your tea, but Seungmin and Jisung. 

You felt as though you had been caught in the middle of a crime, your arms immediately going to wrap around your chest - why did your nightgown have to be so thin! The two didn’t seem to entirely care about your state of dress, rather walking inside and inspecting you from their upturned noses. 

“Can I help you both?” Your voice was tight as you spoke through a smile of clenched teeth. You were usually far better at controlling your emotions around others, but usually, you were completely dressed and prepared. 

They both looked at each other, presumably deciding who was to talk and then snapped their judging eyes back to you. “What is your business with Changbin?” Jisung accusingly asked you - nearly using all of your self-control to keep yourself from audibly fuming at the accusation once again sent your way.

Even if there was something between you and Changbin happening, why must it only be you paying the price? Two people were needed to have an affair and yet it seemed in everyone’s unfounded minds that only you were to blame.

“I beg your pardon?” All you hoped for was a few extra moments of time to complete your facade of indifference, or at least wear the slight mask of content with spitting venom at the two. 

Seungmin stepped toward your seat at the desk, looking over your shoulder at the book you were reading. “Before tonight’s dinner, I saw you and the knight together - where he kissed your cheek and hugged you.”

“And?” You should never have doubted that silhouette you saw in the castle hallways, your instincts were very rarely wrong. “He was comforting me before my discussion with my father.”

“Comforting which involves such intimate physical touch?”

You stood up from the desk and straightened your posture before the two men, dropping your arms from your chest. While there was the chance it presented you with less dignity in their minds, in your own it displayed your own idea of confidence and lack of irritation at being caught in such circumstances.

With a still sickly sweet yet tense smile you flickered your hair over your shoulder, “Between Changbin and I that would be correct - although it is nowhere near as intimate as your mind is making it out to be.”

The two waited to speak, as though your explanation was not enough for them. You wanted to scoff at the idea, you owed them no information regarding your life. While you understood how they had to ask about romantic affairs, you were engaged to their prince and friend, it was not as though either of you cared for one another.

“If you must know,” you decided it would be easier to get them out of your chambers if you told them, though your pride did take a stabbing, “Changbin and I grew up together. He has been my best friend since we were children and he also knows how I can be before conversations with my father.”

You would have assumed Jisung to have at least hoped Changbin was not engaging in an affair with the princess, he did actually know him while the others had only seen him in passing. His tense features softened slightly at your explanation, which in itself made you feel slightly better for your friend - Changbin was far too loving a person to be disrespected by someone he trusted.

The two still refused to speak aloud, only communicating in quick glances between each other. You cleared your throat to gain their attention, “Is that all? Or have you both barged into my chambers for another reason?”

“That is all I have to ask,” Seungmin stepped out to the doorway of your chambers and looked over at Jisung. “Be quick, the maid will be here shortly.”

He walked out, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving you seething (though you did your best to keep it hidden) with Jisung still watching you closely. His armour was discarded for a loose black tunic and tight pants, you assumed he had been getting ready for bed before suddenly coming to your chambers.

You looked him up and down, a sneer already built upon your face - your usual mask of content gone. “Was there anything else you wanted to accuse Changbin and me of?” You had to bite your tongue to prevent going too far in your distaste for the accusation., no matter how much you wanted to continue with hidden insults. A princess must be above it, as Mrs Belvielle enjoyed reminding you.

“Not at this current moment,” Jisung looked around the room before walking toward you. His eyes did not meet yours, you were unsure of whether or not to be pleased by that, and instead settled on the way your hair fell without obstruction. “Why did you cut your hair?”

You tried not to let your shock show on your features - of course, Jisung had realised that you were at the ball. Something which would only make the prince believe that you were enamoured by him. 

“My chambermaid found it would be best to cut and tidy my hair before the wedding next week.” You gulped and looked away from Jisung slightly, there was no promise that your lie would work on the knight but you could only hope it would.

Your hopes were almost immediately destroyed once Jisung opened his mouth.

“Are you sure it’s not because you were at the prince’s ball?” The mask was slipping from your face and you weren’t sure if you could effectively put it back on before Jisung caught on. Ten, nine, eight… “Where you danced together before you suddenly left early in the night?”

Where you danced with him? Danced with Prince Minho?

How could you have not noticed? His similar snarky eyes and the way you were always ready to lace venom in your words in the subconscious battle of wits. The way he was obviously trained in the etiquette of a royal and how he was clearly educated as much as you were.

How had Prince Minho managed to tangle your mind into a web of confusion twice in three days?

“I had no idea that was the prince, Jisung.” Your voice was quiet as you looked at the ground, your ego having been completely destroyed in under two minutes. How daft were you to have not connected the dots? “The thought that I had danced with him makes me sick to the stomach. Now, all I can ask is that you refrain from telling him such information.”

Jisung quirked up an eyebrow, “Why would I do such a thing? You were the one who snuck out of your palace to find him.”

“I only did such a thing to learn about who it was I am to be married to.” You looked up at Jisung with squinted eyes. He was grinning, most likely from the knowledge that a princess was currently indebted to him. “Surely you must understand that if you were in a similar position - marrying a stranger is rather terrifying, is it not?”

Jisung nodded, still grinning like a devil, and walked over to the chamber doors. “It is, I completely understand.” He opened the door, showing your chambermaid standing there with your tea balanced in one hand and the other raised to knock. “I shall leave you to your tea, your highness.”

He went around your maid and left to head to his own chambers, and you took a deep breath at his disappearance. You regained your composure and gestured for your chambermaid to enter, “Thank you Ryujin. And please, no questions about why Jisung was here.”

“Of course not, your highness.”

A lady is not meant to fight in physical battles - rather, she is to battle with wits and intellect. The men of the world are meant for the brutish battles filled with swords and grunts. 

That was the idea embedded in the mind of every person amongst the three kingdoms in the land. The idea that women were meant to be saved by men while doing nothing but crying into her handkerchief and waiting. Your mother had been opposed to such ideas, and before her passing, she had been in many arguments amongst the court officials around letting you train in defence.

Your father, too, had wanted you to learn about defensive fighting strategies - his own beliefs that every person should be gifted the ability no matter gender or status. Though once your mother passed away, he had given into the court’s demands of you learning music and dance instead of fighting.

The art of self-defence was something you had wanted to learn since your childhood, and it was only the previous week that you had managed to convince Changbin to teach you. But now, there were only five days before your wedding and you were to be sent to a new kingdom without him, and you had yet to learn proper sword fighting. 

He threw down his sword and groaned while you huffed, “You cannot be giving up, Binnie!” You whined with the sword still held tightly in your hand, you were smart enough to not save it around like a mad woman.

“Yes I can, you’re barely trying!” You could hear Hyunjin and Chan, both of whom had joined your training sessions to both watch you humiliate yourself and make sure no one came near the stables while you were there. 

Your jaw dropped and you huffed once again, “Why don’t you try to sword fight in a gown as opposed to armour.” Changbin had insisted that you wear a dress instead of a pair of his pants to keep your training more realistic - the chances you were wearing a dress when in need of defence was much more likely than in a pair of pants. “And I don’t want to end up hurting you on accident.”

“You would need to know what you are doing to be able to even touch him.”

With a quick glare toward your supposed lookouts, both of whom avoided your gaze and awkwardly stared at the ground, you turned around to come face to face with Prince Minho and his four associates. The prince in the middle smirking at your flustered frame, once again dressed in a dirt-coated gown and a sword held uncomfortably in your palm. 

You smiled at him, “Then it would seem you have realised the exact purpose of my training session with Changbin.” 

“He seems like a rather awful teacher, then.” Minho walked toward you, grabbing the sword that Changbin had thrown down in a fit, while the four others went over to Hyunjin and Chan. You were seething, how dare he interrupt your training! 

He flexed his fingers around the hilt of the sword, as if testing the weight of it in his hand, and stared you down. You felt as though you were frozen in place, the sword in your own hand feeling as though it had been attached to an anchor, all because of his stare. What had happened to you to have made a man’s gaze so intimidating?

You decided to blame it on your still shattered ego and how you didn’t know whether Jisung had told him of your having danced together. Confusion and unknowing had always caused you to act differently.

“Let me teach you.” As much as you wanted to scream aloud at the prince’s words, you kept your composure and merely straightened your posture. From your conversation back at his ball while dancing together (still, you felt like crying each time you remembered the enjoyment you had had with him) it seemed Prince Minho also viewed the politics of the world with as much hatred as you did.

So, in theory, you should not have been surprised that he wanted to teach you to fight. But it seemed to be a far too selfless thing for him to do, especially considering how desperate he was to get the wedding cancelled - it would seem the last thing he wanted was to help you. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because you are not wanting to accidentally hurt Changbin during your training,” he walked toward you and stopped just before your body, unfortunately, those tingly butterflies you felt when first meeting him after the ten years apart came back in your stomach, “you can train with me and hurt me all you want. The fiance you hate.”

You ignored how he had spat out the word tying your fates together, if you had said the word aloud you were sure that you would say it with as much hatred. “How did you know I would be here?”

“Jisung saw you training yesterday,” you gazed over at the knight and glared, if he had caught you training with a sword there was no point in trying to keep your royal mask alive. If he had told Prince Minho of your training in the stables the day prior, then who was to say that he hadn’t told him of your rendezvous in Elaria.

“And what if I end up slicing your lovely face, your highness,” your voice was laced with a venom that you sincerely hoped the prince would not recognise from your masked facade. If only you had been able to keep your true emotions at bay when he was around, “I doubt that your adoring fans would be happy with such a thing.”

He rolled his eyes and spun the sword in his hands, “You say that as though you have the strength to lift the sword,”

You interrupted your future husband’s insult by swinging the sword at his chest with a grunt, his own sword narrowly deflecting the attack. How dare he accuse you of little strength, you doubted that he had the will to last a day as a woman in this world - you would rather he and his friends accuse you of an affair with Changbin again.

Prince Minho smirked at you from behind the glint of both blades, the rest of his body language showing his relaxation while you were positively fuming. How was it that he could deflect your attack - he hadn’t even been prepared! Your body felt stiff as you held the sword in an uncomfortable position, your body contorted as though you had been cursed by the palace mage.

Though, from your limited interactions with Seungmin, you’d assume that to always be a possibility. 

He pushed hard against your sword, and though you tried your best to keep pushing back against his, the prince won the battle. Your sword dropped from your hands once your fingers bent backward and you hissed at the slight pain - while Prince Minho pointed the sword at your stomach, signalling your defeat.

“If you want to properly learn how to swordfight then I would recommend some basic techniques,” he removed the tip of the sword from your stomach and pointed it to the ground, a lazy smirk on his lips, “as opposed to your current tactic of waving the sword around like a mad woman.”

You looked him up and down with a sneer, “You dare call a woman mad when she holds a weapon in her hand? Perhaps you are more idiotic than I originally thought.”

Prince Minho walked up to you once again, close enough that his chest was nearly against your own. His warmth overtook your body as those daft butterflies returned to your stomach for the second time that day, and all he had done was step close to you. The prince stared down at you, that ignorant smirk still placed upon his face, oh how you wished to rip it off.

“You say that I am idiotic and yet it was you who continues to embarrass herself in my presence.” The prince tucked some of your loose hair behind your ear, the first time he had seen it unhindered from either a crown or being done up. “I believe you find me rather charming despite your words.”

Yes, he was definitely an idiotic prince - one who was about to meet the sharp end of your sword.

You kept glaring up at him while he smirked down at you as if he had not been trying to aggravate you. And while it was within your most precious dreams to personally be the one to remove the smirk from his lips, you simply smile and softened your eyes - though you were sure that fire was still angrily lit all over your expression. 

“They are going to have a rather lovely marriage,” you heard Changbin mutter from his seat amongst the other bystanders. You had forgotten that seven others were there, watching as you bickered with your fiance, though you once again decided to blame Prince Minho for that forgetfulness, “I can see it now.”

“You will see nothing if you dare say that again, Changbin.” You stared him down, knowing that he would take your words for the threatful promise that they were - he knew you far too well to suspect otherwise. “I will ensure that much.”

Prince Minho grinned, “For once, I agree with her royal highness.”

A wedding was supposed to be a happy affair. Your mother had told you all about her wedding to your father when you were young, how she had been so excited for the ceremony that all her nerves regarding becoming queen seemed like nothing at all. She had described the way your father’s eyes lit ablaze upon seeing her enter the room and how she had felt as though her heart was going to burst from joy.

It had left your young mind yearning for your own wedding - if not for a husband but for the apparent joy that it would bring. You had pictured having your mother and father watch you lovingly as the man who loved you more than himself slid a ring upon your finger, imagined that you would be dressed in the finest wedding dress throughout all three kingdoms in the land. Your hair would be loose, as you preferred it to be, and none of those nasty court officials would have halted you.

Even Changbin would be at the ceremony, you had always imagined him as having teared up at watching you get married, mostly because of the way he constantly said he would kill anyone who dared marry you. 

Then, the announcement regarding your engagement to Prince Minho was spoken and those dreams you had of your perfect wedding disappeared. How could you be excited to marry a complete stranger? Your husband was supposed to love you with his entire heart and yet you were destined for a cold man who would rather tease than properly talk.

As you stood in front of the wide doors with the perfect white dress adorned across your body and your hair loose across your shoulders, you felt none of what your mother had spoken of all those years ago. There was no excitement for the man waiting for you at the end of the hall inside the room, only nerves about whether or not the marriage would go through. There was always the chance the prince inside would run the second you walked up to him, you knew how much Prince Minho disdained the idea of an arranged marriage.

Then, there was the possibility of you, too, running from the wedding to save your hopes and dreams. Though it would doom your kingdom to anarchy and thus leave all those you loved in danger. No, you had to go through with the wedding - nervous regarding the treaty damned to the pits of your stomachs and the chambermaids opened the large doors and showed you off to the aisles of royals, courts officials and servants.

Perhaps, the only other thing you felt beside the nerves was your selfish sense of sorrow - you had always pictured your mother would be present on your wedding day. Even when the engagement to the Prince of Elaria was confirmed, she was still a firm part of your idea regarding the day. But, no, you only had your father and the three brothers that you cared for just as much.

Still, sometimes all a lady wants is her mother.

You glided down the hall with your head held high, as though you were not losing yourself to the thoughts buried in your mind. This was your entire purpose, your role in society, and you could not ruin it for the kingdom. You had to prove to those bastard court officials who hated you just as they hated your mother that you were not a useless being.

The prince was standing at the end of the hall, much like you had expected, and watching you as you walked slowly down the aisle. You could see your father, as well as the King and Queen of Elaria, behind him and upon a podium, the three watching you with tense eyes. Had they expected you to turn and run? You had hoped your father would assume better of you, he knew of your love for the Kingdom of Narin. 

Prince Minho gave you a tense grin, though it had somewhat worked to drag you away from your hated thoughts. Over the five days that he had been teaching you sword fighting, you had started to communicate with more than just veiled insults. While they were still at the forefront of your conversations with the prince, you had learned a few things about the man that were more than just your educated assumptions.

Though not much, you could say that the prince had grown from a hated stranger to a reluctant acquaintance. Had it been for the wedding, you were unsure either of you would communicate at all - that was even if you had chosen to take out your frustrations regarding the situations on each other.

You stood tall beside Prince Minho, chin upward as the priest began the ceremony of your union, with he too straightening his posture. A perfect couple if someone who knew neither of you was to assume - it was a talent of both yours and the prince’s to hide your emotions for the benefit of others.

The priest droned on with the usual words of a marriage ceremony, words which you had memorised years earlier from the countless weddings you had to attend as the Princess of Narin. It astounded you how it was finally your wedding day and you couldn’t even force yourself to pay attention to the words spoken by the priest. Only when it was called upon you did you bring yourself back to the ceremony at hand.

Then, before you even knew it, the ceremony was at its end - leaving only the two words left for you to say. Two little words with such a large meaning that you felt tied to an ocean floor at the thought of speaking them to a man you did not love. The eyes of everyone in the hall were on you as they waited for you to say them to the prince in front of you.

“I do,” you finally announced, though you were sure that the majority of people in the hall knew of the unhappiness in your tone. Prince Minho also had to know of the deflation of your voice, you assumed it was from his own eventual frustration to be spoken in those two words.

The priest continued with his following line, but you couldn’t stop yourself from staring into Prince Minho’s eyes. The two of you were stuck in the situation together, and there was no longer any turning back for you. 

He, however, still had a chance to escape the arrangement your parents had made for you both.

Instead, he raised his nose and spoke as clear as one could, “I do.” 

And thus, it was made official, you and Prince Minho were married. You were officially an object to be used as a means of peace, no longer a chance of escape for either of you. You could see the proud grin on your father’s face from the corner of your eye, at least someone was happy with the situation at hand, as well as the two stoic faces of the King and Queen.

You shouldn’t have been surprised considering how their son acted. You were unsure how you would have grown up if your parents had not been the openly loving parents they were. 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

You felt your eyes widen, of course, you had forgotten about that part. From the, first-ever time you had witnessed, shock upon Minho’s face - he too was surprised by the final part of the ceremony. You weren’t sure whether you could blame Prince Minho for your forgetfulness this time around.

He delicately placed his hands upon your cheeks while you blinked rapidly, your heart pounding with nerves. You were sure that you were only nervous because of the intimate act you were to perform both with someone you did not love, barely tolerated for that matter, and perform the kiss in front of a large group of people. Prince Minho thumbed your cheek gently, perhaps he had seen the shock upon your face, and slowly leaned it.

“I am sorry,” he whispered, though his voice was barely loud enough for you to have heard yourself. You still nodded slightly to him, if not to show that you had heard him but to remind yourself that the kiss was to happen one way or another - at least the prince has some decency to show he knew you were not excited about it.

And then, his soft lips met your own if only for a moment. Slight butterflies began to fly around in your stomach as warmth spread through your body. Though, after the quick kiss to seal the marriage between you both, he pulled away his lips and his hands - both the butterflies and warmth immediately disappearing.

The priest announced you as married to the crowd of onlookers sitting behind you, but you could barely pay attention to anything besides the emotions spinning in your gut. You were supposed to be happy on your wedding day, and yet you felt nothing but sorrow at your own situation. And a slight want to feel Minho’s lips against your own, once more, even if it was only for a moment more.

Your new, and shared, chambers were much larger than your ones back in Narin, though that was always to come with now belonging to the Elarian kingdom. There was a desk as well as a small bookshelf with little books, though the ones there were ones you enjoyed, and numerous paintings of cats hung along the walls. Two plush chairs were placed in front of a large fireplace, already lit by one of the chambermaids belonging to the castle.

In theory, the chambers were perfect. However there was an issue, right in the middle of the room - there was only one, admittedly large, bed.

You should not have been surprised, this had originally been Minho’s own chambers before becoming your shared ones, but when you realised you felt like screaming. Of course, there was only one bed, you were married, but you would rather sleep in one of the chairs before the fireplace before sharing a bed with someone you did not love, much like like.

You may have tolerated Minho now, his stunt of apologising for the intimate kiss before a crowd making him a little more likeable in your opinion, but you were not at all ready to sleep with him. Oh, you were meant to sleep with him.

It was your wedding night after all, and from the passing looks by everyone in the ball downstairs when you and Minho left, you were expecting to consummate the night. You had been trained for this (the women’s educator on the topic had ensured you remembered that it was your role as a wife to please her husband) but at the realisation, your heart started to run in your chest.

“What are you stressing over now?” Minho walked past you and removed the outer layer of his clothing, as though he had no idea what was expected of you both that night. “The wedding is over and we are now married, we are unable to escape fate now.”

You rolled your eyes and went over to the fireplace, its warmth felt nice against the cool sweats running down your neck. “I know that your highness,” you watched as Minho sat down on the bed and stared you down, his dark eyes sparkling from the fire behind you, “I am simply worried over the bedding situation.”

“We are married, are we not?”

“I had thought you were intelligent enough to have gathered that, perhaps I was wrong.”

He glared at you while you laughed, “I will let that slide because of today’s events.” Since Minho had begun to teach you sword fighting, you both had begun developing a slight banter between one another - much like you had that first night while you danced together. 

Had you imagined that only a week prior you would be, slightly reluctantly, getting along with Prince Minho of Elaria, you would consider yourself mad. “How lovely of you to do, your highness.”

“Before we even consider our sleeping situation,” he sat up and walked over to you, his chest practically pressed against your own while he peered down at you. You challenged him, as you always would, and stared up at him with your own devilish smirk, “you must stop calling me ‘your highness’, we are married, so you can call me Minho.”

Your smirk fell slightly, you had not entirely been expecting him to ask that of you. There had only been two select moments you had heard someone refer to him without a title, both of whom having been done by Jisung when in private - you had been walking through your old castle each time and accidentally overheard them. 

Part of you felt pleased to know that he trusted you enough to have you only call him by his name, as opposed to his usual honorifics, while the rest of you was terrified of just what it meant. Was he doing this purely for appearance’s sake? Or is it because the two of you had actually moved on from childish annoyance for the greater good of the land?

“And as for the bed,” Minho sat down in one of the plush chairs, and though you were now taller than him he still felt twice as large. You detested when people managed to feel as though they were overpowering you, it was a feeling you got far too often for your liking, though somehow it felt different with your husband. His felt more protective than the usual judgement power you felt over you by the others, “we are husband and wife - so we shall share our marital bed.”

“Minho,” it felt weird to say his name on its own, the words leaving a foul taste on your tongue, but you tried your best not to show such emotions as you sat in the opposite armchair, “that is only one of my worries regarding the bedding.”

“Then, please my dear wife, tell me of your troubles.”

Your face scrunched up at his name for you, though you did end up joining Minho in his laughter - it was rather infectious when not laced with malice. “We are expected to consummate our marriage tonight.”

The warm light cast over Minho’s face brought your attention to his features. You had recognised him as attractive the first time you saw his full face back in your throne room, though you had never completely appreciated it until this moment. He was like one of Hyunjin’s portraits come to life, near perfection in a world full of flaws. 

It was rather unfair in your mind, why was it that Minho was able to be beautiful no matter the circumstances while you were nowhere near the sort. Though you did have a more tolerable personality than Minho, that you were certain of.

“And?”

“And?”

“It is our marriage - one we only went through to provide peace among two kingdoms. They cannot force us to do anything unless they want the treaty to be nulled.” Minho’s logic was rational, and while your logical side could agree with that the part of you that had grown pained by the constant judgement you received hated the idea. Even if it was your marriage and people claimed to not know whether or not you had lain with your husband, there would always be the glances of people who somehow knew you had not. “You are overthinking once again,”

You huffed and looked over to the crackling fire, your skin starting to feel hot under the layers of your wedding dress. “It is my role as a woman to do so,”

“Even when there is nothing to think on?”

“Minho, there is always something to think about…” you trailed off and twirled some of your hair between your fingers, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control your emotions. “They will all know and they will all judge.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his, unfortunately also attractive, arms over his chest. “They will not judge us,”

“You are partially correct, you will be free of judgement.” Being aware of the state of your world was a cursed thing. While you enjoyed being able to prove men wrong about their ideas regarding you and women as a whole, you also had the knowledge that no matter what you did there would be judgement for you. “I however will be blamed for not pleasing my husband.”

Minho cursed, “And there are people who wonder why I dislike politics.”

“Another thing we share, so it seems.”

The two of you continued talking about topics that were otherwise shamed upon to discuss. There had been times you had talked about similar topics with your father, or even your friends, though you had never been able to fully indulge in your opinions to any of them.

Perhaps that was a perk of being tied into a relationship with Minho. You did not care enough about his judgement of your opinions to overthink them, rather you shared them openly and found him agreeing with each opinion you held. Another perk, so it seemed.

At one point Minho had brought up the rumoured curse on his family bloodline, you believed it was because of the comfortable area you had both created with the steadily dying fire. It had been real, a royal secret he had divulged, that the bloodline was cursed to lose a piece of themselves until the bloodline eventually died out.

You had been reluctant to believe him, though you looked at him and asked him to continue talking. Minho may have had his moments where you wanted to slap him right across the face, but you were still a respectful person and wanted to allow everyone their time to speak - except for Mrs Belvielle. 

“What is that you lost?” You had asked him, barely expecting Minho to show you what it was that the curse had caused him to lose.

You had been expecting even less for Minho to remove his shirt without warning, making you gasp and look away in embarrassment, until he gently turned your head to look back at him. There was a brand over his heart, resembling the crest of Elaria, and your fingers itched to trace it despite the intimate act it would create.

“I lost my heart. I was cursed to be alone for my entire life, unable to find or be loved… the end of my bloodline.”

It had taken a lot of your self-control to not make an awkward joke around the situation, had the chambers not felt as tense as they had been, you probably would have. Minho had been vulnerable with you, something you had never expected to happen with him, much less as soon as it did happen, and so you had opened up to him similarly.

You had told him about your mother, many of the memories you shared with her and the pain of having lost her so young. You had ended up crying, despite your best efforts to not show your emotions in your vulnerable state, and Minho had lightly squeezed your hand to show you that he was there.

The two of you had talked for many hours after the sorrowful moments between you both, the air between you both lightening up and allowing the pair of you to once again banter with each other. You had been thankful for the change in tenseness in the chambers, though you were also glad that the conversations had not ended.

You wondered whether Minho also felt the same. Though if he did, you could not say whether you would be happy or upset at the news.

Eventually, you stood up and stretched your back, the warm fire nearly completely extinguished from its lack of wood. The sky was still black, bright stars scattered across them once again, though you were expecting the morning sun to begin its ascent shortly. “I think it is time we sleep, dear husband of mine.” You still found it slightly awkward to speak Minho’s name aloud, so you settled for your playful nickname to avoid the distaste.

“Are you no longer anxious about sharing a bed with me?”

You rolled your eyes, you had long since given up on pretending around Minho - whether it was from his similar training or good instincts, he could always tell when you were lying. “You flatter yourself, it was not you that I had been worried about.” You ran your fingers through your hair to try and detangle it as best you could without your comb, Changbin would be arriving at the castle in two days time to bring forth your preferred belongings. “It was the idea of sharing it with a person.”

“Well, I hope that you are not worried about it anymore, dear wife.” Minho stood and walked up behind you, making you wish you had still been wearing your thick wedding dress as opposed to your awfully thin nightgown that you had changed into an hour prior. 

Butterflies flew around your stomach the closer he got to your body, you were sure that Minho had noticed your stilled reactions to it. “I’m afraid that you would be correct, despite my best efforts.” You turned around to look at him, trying your best to not shrink under his gaze and the fact you were only in your nightgown. “It seems that you have a talent for making me comfortable.”

He grinned, “My best talent to date.”

“You flatter me far too much,”

“In my opinion, you are deserving of much more flattery than what I have already shown.”

When had Minho gotten so close to you, his body flush against your own while you stared into his eyes. You were sure that the feeling of lightning running along your skin was caused by his touch or a mix of your own flustered emotions at the situation - but the butterflies and warmth spreading from your stomach were always caused by him. 

You couldn’t be the only one feeling such things, right? You had to know whether Minho was as affected by your presence as you had grown to be by his. Though if it turned out he wasn’t you would most likely steal a horse from the Elarian royal stables and ride away.

His hands lifted to cup your cheeks, much like they had back in the ceremony the previous day before he had kissed you. And just like they had also, he thumbed at your cheekbone and bore his sparkly brown eyes into your own.

Was it normal for your knees to feel like buckling? You had never felt such a feeling before, you had only read of it in romance novels belonging to the royal library in Narin. Though it made no sense in the current situation, you were sure that you had not felt any romantic feelings toward Minho of all people.

You would rather kiss Changbin than Minho!

“May I kiss you?” His voice was soft as he spoke, the vulnerability from when he was confiding on the curse his family had trapped him with returned to his body. While he stood tall and had a confident expression on his face, you had also been trained in the art of covering emotions, and could see through his hesitancies.

Whether they be the slight jumps in his eyes as they widened slightly, or the slight flexing of his fingers while they held your cheeks. You could see through him just as he could you, and for once you were not terrified of that knowledge.

“Please,” you finally whispered, and again his soft lips locked onto yours.

You, once again, found yourself standing on the balcony of the Elarian ballroom while the party went on inside. Only now, you were free of the feathered mask you had worn and now dressed with a large crown fit for the queen - which you now were. Your coronation ball was a splendid affair, which had been surprising, and you had been having a great time.

Though you always still needed your own peace and quiet despite the ball for you, and your husband, still going on in the ballroom. It was something that you had been like since you were a child and you were sure it would remain well into your years as you grew old.

“Why is it that you must always exclude yourself from my celebrations?”

You grinned and turned from the night sky, finding Minho standing before the glass doors of the balcony. He was wearing the large crown of a king atop his head, formal robes still covering his lithe frame, although they were now haphazardly thrown on after many hours of dancing together. “You do realise that it is also my celebration, right?”

“Of course I do,” Minho walked up to you and caged you between him and the railing, tilting your chin up to face him while he smirked, “which is even more of a reason to head back inside.”

“How could I do such a thing when I am in such a position?”

“You are right,” Minho looked between you both, his smirk still worn across his face, and he played with your loose hair behind your ear. “I suggest that we stay out here together for the rest of the night.”

The idea was tempting, you already found yourself wanting to agree, but a quick glance to the glass doors of the balcony - finding Changbin pointed with a devilish grin upon his face while Jisung handed him a small bag, you assumed, of gold - reminded you that there were too many people inside that would be disappointed. Though not the people who had attended for the booze or because they wanted to attempt to seduce either you or Minho, despite your marriage and literal coronation that day, but your family and friends who had travelled from Narin to visit you.

It had been two months since you last saw your father and brothers, the day of your wedding marking the final goodbye. Originally, your family had been unable to visit you for the coronation, due to the royal court of Narin being their evil selves as you had always known them to be. Though, without your knowledge, Minho and his father had spoken with the court and managed to convince them all to let your father, as well as your brothers, leave to see you become Queen of Narin.

Your husband had known just how much you missed your family, and though he claimed to only know because of his knowledge of your body language, you knew it was from one of your many midnight talks. The tradition you both had accidentally started on your wedding night became a near-daily occurrence, even if you had nothing of complete importance to discuss.

“There are far too many people expecting us to return, your highness.” You taunted him, dangling your arms around his neck and mischievously grinning at him while Minho groaned.

His arms moved to grab onto your waist, the tight corset you found yourself wearing once again doing nothing to stop the heat spread through your body. “Let them wait then,” he lowered his head and kissed your exposed neck, his crown barely tipping from his head, “I have found something far more important right before me.”

“You still flatter me…”

“Whenever I see the opportunity, my love.”

You pulled Minho’s head from your neck and leaned forward to press your lips against his, smiling happily into it while Minho took his time to realise your actions. He had a taste that one could become quickly enamoured with, you had quickly learned over the two months since marriage. Perhaps, Minho had gotten addicted that night he had softly kissed you in your shared chambers.

His hands clenched on your waist as his lips, finally, kissed you back, leading you to twirl your finger in the pieces of dark hair near his neck. Somehow, his lips were always soft, no matter the time of day or the weather plaguing the outside world - Minho was just perfect all of the time.

Even his hair was perfectly soft!

Minho was the one to pull away, though you knew there was slight reluctance in his actions as he groaned, and he pressed his forehead against your own - your noses slightly nudging against each other. “Will you be kissing me whenever I compliment you?”

“Perhaps,” your eyes were still softly shut while his head rested on your own and a lazy smile found its way upon your lips, “that is up to you to find out.”

“You should know better than to tease me,”

“And what is it that you will do about it?”

“Is that something you really want to know, princess?”

Your eyes fluttered open and an eyebrow raised to challenge Minho, you were not one to let him get away with everything because you were somewhat enamoured with the king. “If you think that I do not, then you do not know me at all,” you leant forward and whispered into his ear. “And it’s queen.”

Minho groaned once again and rested his head atop your shoulder, you quickly adjusted his crown to prevent it from falling over the railing and shattering on the castle grounds. “Must we go back inside? They will not miss us!”

“It is a ball to celebrate us, Minho.”

“My question still seems relevant in my eyes.”

“Now presenting the King and Queen of Elaria!”

Minho whined into your shoulder while you laughed, slipping your hand into his and interlacing your hands. You pushed his head off of you and lead him by the hand to the glass doors, recreating the night of his farewell ball all those nights ago, merely with reversed roles. “Now, come along, your highness, people are waiting.”

© COMET-FALLS 2022

Heyy!! Love your writing so much, and I wanted to request a skz getting reader flowers but reader is allergic to them. Lots of love<333

SKZ Reaction To Them Getting You Flowers, But You're Allergic

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: Enjoy! Sorry it takes me a while to do requests, but I try to always get around to them as inspiration strikes.

Chan: This poor baby feels sooooo bad. As someone with allergies and similar problems, he blames himself for not thinking of it earlier. As soon as you sneeze he'll put it together and immediately take the flowers outside, even if you protest. Once he comes in, he'll change (or just take his shirt off) so that any pollen on his shirt doesn't further bother you. Wrapping you in his arms, he promises to get you something else. The next morning, you'd wake up to the flowers arranged prettily in a terrarium where you can enjoy them without an allergic reaction.

Minho:

A lesser known fact about Minho is that he's a very good and thoughtful gift giver. He's always bringing you little trinkets and snacks from abroad. So, it is not out of character for him to bring you flowers, but with spring in full swing, your allergies simply cannot handle flowers in the house. When you sneeze and have to leave the room, he doesn't immediately get it but follows you out of the room. When you tell him it's the flowers, his eyes soften significantly and he grabs the bouquet and is gone for around twenty minutes. This time he returned with some rose shaped chocolates and he gave the flowers to your elder neighbor.

Changbin:

Changbin didn't know that lilies were so infamous for how many people are allergic to them. He simply saw them when he passed a florist and had to stop to get them for you. They were beautiful and he just wanted you to have them. But, when your eyes start watering and become red, he looks between the lilies and you a few times before getting rid of the flowers as quickly as he could. Changbin would jokingly and cutely ask you to forgive him, which, of course, you do.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin made this mistake early in your relationship--before the two of you were even official. Therefore, it's become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you. It was your third date and he'd come bearing a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he had helped arrange. Though, it only took a few minutes for your body to react and a flush to come over your skin and tears to stream down your cheeks involuntarily. Hyunjin panicked. Luckily, you both find the whole thing hilarious now and on every anniversary of your third date, Hyunjin paints you a flower bouquet.

Jisung:

Ngl, he might cry. Jisung hates to think that he caused you to have an allergic reaction, even if it was minor. Even if he didn't, he would not hesitate to throw the bouquet away and try to salvage the situation he thinks is a complete disaster. Some part of him is even convinced that you might break up with him over this. Of course, you know it was an honest mistake and even find it a bit cute. The two of you spend the rest of the night watching anime and cuddling.

Felix:

Felix had flowers delivered to your work none the wiser that you were allergic. When he comes to your place afterward, he sees the flowers placed in a vase on the table. But, he knows something is wrong when he sees your reddened nose and red eyes. When you tell him it's because of the flowers, he chastises you for bringing them in and carefully removes them, placing them on the balcony instead. Lightening the mood with a joke about how he's the only flower you need, he holds you the rest of the night.

Seungmin:

One of the ways Seungmin shows that he loves you is by buying you small gifts and leaving them somewhere he knows you'll find them. So, when you wake up one morning to flowers on your doorstep, you know they are from him. Your allergies were hit or miss, so you hoped you wouldn't react to them. Unfortunately, an hour later, you're sniffling and have a headache. He FaceTimes you not long later for your reaction and he's so horrified by your reaction that he finishes his work as quickly as he can to go be with you. Throwing out the flowers, he brings over a few sheets from his diary--dated from after your first date and the way he felt about you so immediately.

Jeongin:

Jeongin is excited as he approaches your place with flowers in hand. His was handpicked, having collected wildflowers and a few from a friend's garden. He knew that you would love the thoughtfulness of the present and he was right, beaming as he noticed your surprise and delight at how he assembled the bouquet himself. You didn't want to tell him about your hay fever and how some of the flowers he picked you were very allergic to because he was too sweet. Eventually, though, Jeongin noticed you wheezing and met your eyes to find them red and irritated. He feels bad when he finally gets the truth out of you and he will apologize, taking the flowers back with him. A few weeks later, he brings them back dried and pressed onto a framed canvas.

Ugh I love some good hurt and comfort 😩

*•.¸♡ ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕔𝕠𝕞 ♡¸.•* | ch.16

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre: smau, online best friends to enemies to lovers (lol), crack, angst, fluff.

A/N: BEFORE YOU START READING. I have exams for the next two weeks, so updates might be slower than usual. I'll try to post whenever I can, but let me tell you... there's no many chapters left! Maybe 6 or 7? and then we move onto Changbin's story! Also, I'm trying a new tagging system (in my old account i had to write one user per line or they wouldn't get tagged) can you tell me if you get tagged? Thanks a lot <3

Warnings⚠️⚠️: angst,ateez being the bad guys (but all of them?), mentions of alcohol, violence, kidnapping. presence of food, seminudity, fluff, lots of fluff, caring!chan bc that deserves a warning.

Updates: Monday to Friday (if I can)

Summary: you need to be taken care of

Reblogs are appreciated and comments fuel me! ❤️

| masterlist

This is not how you imagined the end of the day: coming back home with your ex boyfriend after he spends hours trying to find you because you have been “kidnapped” by the cute new guy that arrived to class a few days ago. 

If you put it like that, it sounds even crazier. 

“Earth to Rei.” 

His voice takes you away from your thoughts, making you shake your head to regain focus. “Sorry, I got a bit lost in my head.” 

Chan nods, pressing his lips together. “Rei, I know it’s gonna be the hundredth time that I ask you this but… Are you physically okay? Did he touch you?” 

You grab his hand and squeeze it softly. “I promise that I am okay. He didn’t touch me.” 

“Okay, good.” Chan sits next to you on the sofa, covering your legs with a blanket that you always have close in case you get cold. “I won’t have to go back and finish him.” 

His left cheek is swollen and red; it will probably bruise tomorrow. You pay attention to his hand, noticing the broken skin on his knuckles. He didn’t leave without a fight. “How did you find me?” 

He turns on the sofa, his body facing you while he rests his face on the back, the new position allowing him to watch your face. “You still share your location with me. I found out an hour ago.” 

You smile a bit, resting your head on the back of the sofa too, watching the ceiling with interest. “I actually started to share it with you when “Chris” gave me his phone number.” 

“Lucky guy, that Chris.” 

You snort, shaking your head. “It all happens for a reason, right?” 

Chan frowns, not understanding your words. “What do you mean?” 

“Maybe it was meant to happen that we got reunited again. I don’t share my location with anyone else.” 

“Maybe you should start.” 

You sigh. “I’m making the kids share their location with us first thing in the morning.” 

“Yeah, they definitely need to do so. I don’t want to feel like this ever again.” 

You try to swallow a lump of feelings, but to no avail. You can’t even imagine how he must have felt. “Are you okay?” 

Chan looks at your face, eyes darting all over your skin, as if making sure that there’s not even a scratch. “We need to take that makeup off.” 

And that’s how Chan dodges a bullet. “I’ll go to the bathroom, you can go if you want. I’ll lock the door.” 

He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “I am not going anywhere, Rei. I’m gonna stay here. You went through a bad situation, and I won’t let you be alone when you snap out of it.” 

“Snap?” 

“You’re way too calm for what you just went through. Maybe you’re in shock.” 

You shrug, covering your body with the blanket. “I don’t know what you feel in that case, so I can’t tell.” 

He gets up from the sofa. “Which door is the bathroom?” 

“Last one.” 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Chan comes back with cotton pads soaked in micellar water and softly rubs your face with them, cleaning it. “Your hair is sticky.” 

“I think someone knocked out Seonghwa’s cup when I was trying to pull you away from Yunho. I don’t have energy to wash it now.” You sigh, leaning back once he finishes removing your makeup. 

“I can wash it for you, if you want.” He offers, wanting to help you in whatever way he can. 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I want to. Let me take care of you.” He insists, grabbing your hand again. 

“I can do it tomorrow, don’t worry.” 

Chan’s free hand, the one that isn’t holding yours, cups your cheek, softly turning your face so you can look him in the eye. “Rei, you don’t have to be brave and strong all the time, okay? You just went through a horrible experience. You might need to be taken care of, but that’s okay! We all need to be taken care of sometimes.” 

Those words seem to be the final straw, and you end up breaking down, crying, and letting it all out. You don’t notice Chan’s sigh of relief when he notices that you have finally snapped out of it. “I was so scared…” 

“Come here, princess.” He says while opening his arms for you. You move close to him, letting his arms engulf you and hug you. Right now, this is the safest place in the world. He looked for you for hours, went to Yunho’s house, and took you out of there. It is probably the bravest thing someone has ever done for you. 

He lets you cry all you need, and when you have calmed down, he takes you to the bathroom and washes your hair. His hands are soft as feathers, and he checks constantly to see if you’re okay, but the soft, satisfied smile on your face tells him that you’re enjoying this small moment and that it’s making you feel more relaxed. He could kiss you right there and then, but it’s not the moment. 

Once he has dried your hair, he takes you back to the living room, sitting you on the sofa and kneeling in front of you. Your eyes are closing due to sleep, but he has to take care of something else before putting you to bed. “Are you hungry?” 

“Oh, no. Don’t worry.” But just as you say this, your stomach growls, betraying you. “Maybe a bit.” 

He chuckles a bit, going to the kitchen. “I see what I can do.” 

“There’s only ramen.” 

“Ramen it’s good, right?” 

You shrug. “It’s too late to order takeout, so… Ramen it is.” 

It takes him a few minutes to cook ramen for the both of you, and when he comes back you eat in silence, both of you are too hungry to even talk. 

“I don’t think they’re doing this because they want to.” You mutter once you finish your ramen. 

He watches closely, interested in your words. “You mean Ateez?” 

You nod. “They were talking about a man… They called him “Fedora man”. I don’t know much about it, but it seems like they need the money for this guy.” 

Chan thinks for a second. “Do you think maybe this guy got them involved in something illegal?” 

“It could be. But, at least, we know three of them. We could find the rest by looking at their socials.” 

“Yeah, this Seonghwa guy.” Chan recalls the guy who had been trying to stop Changbin. He didn’t stand a chance. 

“Park Seonghwa. There was also another one, maybe you didn’t see him. Song Mingi.” ”

“Well, we know three now. Only five more to go.” 

“Six.” You correct him. 

“What?” 

“They’re adding a new member soon. They’re not precisely secret about their stuff, you know.” 

Chan nods, all his preoccupations leaving him when he sees you yawning. “Go to bed.” 

“Where are you gonna sleep?” 

He looks at the sofa. “Do you have a spare pillow?” 

“You’re not sleeping on the sofa, Chris.” 

He smiles, something melts inside him every time you call him Chris. “Are you offering me your bed?” 

“It’s big enough for two.” 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” 

You take him to your room, quickly lying on your side. He looks lost for a second, his hands gripping the edge of his shirt. “You can take it off. I know you sleep without t-shirts.” 

“You sure?” 

“Absolutely. You have nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

But he definitely has something that you haven’t seen before. A delicious six pack. Where does he get time to go to the gym? You turn off the lights before he can notice how you’re staring at him. 

Once he's under the blankets, you turn around to face him, even though you can’t see him, the room is only lit up by the streetlight outside your house. “Don’t ever let me do that again.” 

“Unless you want me following you around on every single date you have, I don’t know how I can avoid it.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have any more dates.”

He snorts, shifting around, trying to find the perfect posture. “Don’t you want to find love?” 

All you can hear right now is your heart beating in your ears. Do you really want to find love? No, that’s not a good question. Do you really need to look out for love when you have him in front of you? Why keep looking? 

“I found it already, but let it go twice because I am an idiot.” 

You can only hear his sharp intake of breath. “Don’t. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. I don’t know if I can take it.” 

You get closer to him—to his warm body and his calming essence. “I mean it.” 

He gets close too, and you can feel his nose touching yours every time he takes a breath. “I want to kiss you.” 

“Do it.” 

“No… You’re not emotionally okay right now, princess. I can’t do that.” He groans, frustrated with having you so close but being unable to do anything. “It’s like kissing someone who’s drunk. You might want it now, but will you still want me to kiss you tomorrow?” 

“Ask me again tomorrow.” 

“You need more time. I’ll ask you again when I see that you’re okay. I promise.” 

You sigh, feeling frustrated too. “You do?” 

“Trust me, I won’t miss the opportunity to kiss you again.” 

You remain silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you hold me all night?” 

‘All my life’, Chan wants to answer, but he knows he can’t say that. So he decides to just hug you close and close his eyes, hoping that time passes quickly for him to finally confess all those things he wanted to say to you for the last few months.

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SKZ MTL Enjoy Giving Oral

Genre: smut

Warnings: smut

A/N: based on the receiver having a vagina. I can do one for penis having people later :)

Most

Chan Felix Minho Changbin Jisung Jeongin Hyunjin Seungmin Least

The Aussie Line, Chan and Felix, are always apt to please their partners. Also, have you heard some of the songs Chan listens to? He is absolutely not opposed to eating you out and will do so eagerly. Felix tends to prefer it as foreplay and a precursor to actually fucking you.

Minho and Changbin will do it if you ask, but it may not necessarily be something they offer all the time or do during a spur-of-the-moment encounter. That said, they do enjoy it and will occasionally surprise you by heading downstairs. They likely enjoy it as much as receiving.

Jisung and Jeongin may prefer receiving slightly more, but will still be in the mood to give you oral sometimes. Similar to Felix, I think they are going to do it more as a form of foreplay and will rarely do it without actually fucking you after. They also like you to reciprocate later.

Hyunjin and Seungmin are not against it by any means, but definitely prefer receiving over giving. Hyunjin may offer it, but Seungmin rarely will unless he's really teasing you. Still, if you enjoy receiving, they will still give it to you, especially to reciprocate.