the royal dinner it's suffocating.
you sit stiffly at the long polished table, nodding along to your parents' endless talk about alliances, responsibilities, the long, boring future they're so desperate to plan for you.
β "you'll be meeting several young men next week," your mother says crisply, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
β "dukes. a few foreign princes. you'll need to make an effort, darling," your father adds.
you stare at your half-finished plate, your jaw locked. an effort. right. you don't want any of them.
you want the boy who's been standing outside this stupid palace for the past hour, waiting for you like he always does.
β "i need some air," you say suddenly, pushing your chair back.
your mother's brow twitches. "don't be dramatic."
β "i'm not," you say sweetly. "i'm being considerate. before i ruin dinner." your mother's mouth tightens into a line. your father frowns. but after a tense second, he waves his hand.
you slip away from the table, heels clicking sharply on the marble as you move faster. you push open the heavy doors and step into the cool night and there he is.
sunghoon.
leaning casually against the sleek black car, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly. his black suit is sharp, his tie loose enough to make him look both deadly and devastatingly handsome.
he straightens the second he sees you, a grin tugging at his mouth.
β "you look thrilled," he calls lightly.
you roll your eyes as you walk toward him, letting out a long breath. "i'm about two seconds from throwing myself into the fountain."
he laughs under his breath, rounding the car and climbing in after you. the door clicks shut. the world outside fades away.
β "where to, my princess?" he teases, starting the engine.
β "anywhere but here," you say, kicking off your heels and pulling your knees up onto the seat.
he pulls out of the palace grounds easily, one hand on the wheel, the other intertwined with your fingers.
β "you clean up nice, by the way," you say after a beat, pretending to inspect his profile.
he raises an eyebrow, flashing you a sideways look. "nice?"
β "yeah. like, seven out of ten." you lean back, smirking. "room for improvement."
he scoffs, "this is the thanks i get? i sit in a car for three hours and you rate me a seven?"
you laugh, tipping your head against the window. "fine. eight. if you buy me coffee."
he shakes his head, muttering, "high maintenance," but you catch the way his mouth curves up anyway.
β "so," he continues, finally parking at an empty parking lot, "besides escaping political matchmaking, how else can i make your night better?"
you blink at him, heart skipping. the way he's looking at you like he knows exactly what he's doing to you makes your stomach flip.
you lean closer, tilting your head slightly. "kiss me." his eyebrows shoot up, and for a second he looks genuinely caught off guard.
β "what, no please?" he says.
β "kiss me, please," you say, rolling your eyes, but your voice comes out soft. maybe a little desperate. he chuckles, before reaching out and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
β "you're really bad at being patient," he says.
β "and you're really bad at following orders," you shoot back, smiling.
β "lucky for you, i'm off-duty right now," he murmurs.
and then he leans in, kissing you slowly, like he's got all the time in the world and none of it matters except for this.
your fingers hook onto his tie, tugging him closer until you're almost half in his lap, giggling against his mouth. he kisses you harder in response, one hand sliding along your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.
when you finally pull apart, you're both a little breathless, smiling like idiots.
he taps your nose with his finger, playful. "still think i'm an eight?"