i just learnt the whole dance routine to tom’s umbrella lip sync battle and if i do say so myself i’ve had many regrets but trying to dance as hot as him is not one of them

i’m still waiting for toms well deserved recognition from rhianna for his lip sync battle performance because i watch that video religiously and tom LOOKS SO FUCKING HOT AS A WOMAN

bilateral contracts

❧synopsis: a relationship turned contract… or has the relationship always been a contract? no longer does it matter, just kiss and make break up

❧pairing: koh!tom x fem!reader

❧genre: semi-angst, suggestive

❧warnings: break up, mentions of hickies, make-out session with a bit of escalation, plot twist (?)

❧a/n: if you get it, you get it. also this came out shorter than i expected, but i liked how it turned out so i didn’t want to change anything lmao. listen to kiss and make up when reading this <3

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It started with the thundering echos in the room then ended with the inaudibly loud sound of hearts shattering. 

Now, you were resting on a cool, marble bench, breathing in the fresh, must-filled air. The chilled material of the seat ran a shiver down your seat, causing the heat from your anger to depress. 

Lately, you and Tom weren’t getting along as you used to. Constantly, you were being reminded—by Tom—that you knew what you had “signed up for” when you began dating him, ever the cliche. Had you known that you were dating via contract, you would’ve never accepted the offer; you would’ve rejected the offer whole-heartedly, as it is known, contracts can’t—and don’t—last forever.

Tom, on the other hand, went back to hoarding himself with work and planning out large events—usually for his own enjoyment. Being the king, after all, meant luxury and bliss, albeit the load of work and duty. 

Maybe the great lord feared by all was being selfish; maybe the young maiden who put her heart out on the line for said lord was insecure. It all narrowed down to a “maybe.” One thing that was certain, though, was the maiden’s love for herself.

Contracts aren’t unbreakable. They can be discussed and terminated. Besides, even if you “break” the contract now, you technically wouldn’t be the first.

With fast steps, you composed yourself, preparing for the risk you were about to take. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you also knew it was plausible. Your pride and self-love wouldn’t back down just by a simple glare or bark. 

Pushing the doors open, you stepped into the room, head high and shoulders wide. It felt as if the atmosphere had some confidence booster hidden in the air. Tom was already staring at you with peculiar eyes, silently asking you what you were doing.

You were tired of talking, letting useless words slip from your lips. You no longer wanted to hear any feeble “sorry’s” from either him or you.

Thus, without any words, you stomped over to his desk, pulling him by his collar and smashing your lips against his. You could feel him stiffen in your grasp, shocked at the sudden action and its roughness.

Pushing him back onto the desk, you looked him into his chocolate-brown eyes. Your hand laid flat on his chest, fingers skillfully unbuttoning his dress shirt. You attached your lips to his bare neck, sucking dark marks filled with ill-intents onto to supple skin. You could feel the brunette begin to relax under your touch, allowing you to continue. 

His hands touched you in such a familiar yet foreign way, touching you like he’s touched nobody. The soft pads of his fingertips trailed, bruised, and gripped onto every centimeter of your perfect body as if he’s been starved of touch for decades.

It was as if both of you could see and feel what was coming.

Pulling away, you slipped your clothes back on, leaving Tom tousled where he rest. A haze in his eyes told you that he was out of his body, floating in the clouds. Using his dazed moment to your advantage, you declared, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Before he could collect himself to think straight, you’ve already escorted yourself out of the room, leaving his door wide open to give him a show of you with your bags and luggage—walking away with a light sway of your hips—your figure dissolving into nothingness as you gained more distance. 

Tom didn’t chase after you like a dog on a leash. He let you leave without reluctance or doubt. After all, why would he? Everything had worked out in his favor.

The contract is now terminatedended.

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❧ synopsis: after the collapsing of an unhealthy relationship, each side begins to improve and thrive, one for the other, one for themselves. coincidentally, they meet at the same dreaded party that led to the breaking of their relationship. will this unfortunate series of events lead them to opportunity?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: fluff

❧ warnings: mild angst, fluffy-ish ending, exes to friends to lovers, one or two curse words, lil bit of crying, mentions of alcohol

❧ a/n: it’s finally over. thank goodness. this also is so long it can be considered a second part fuck. i know i took a whole month to write this, but i barely have free time to write nowadays and the times i do, i don’t have much inspiration. anyways this came out better than i expected so hope you guys enjoy.

in order to understand this ending, please read this first: her hidden crystal tears 

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In the first month you spent broken up with Tom, you, for once, felt at peace, with no burden of hiding relationships and denying feelings. You had forgotten how free living singly was. Within that month, you were able to reshape your life. Your grades began to improve, and your mental health had phenomenally developed for he better. Your friends had even gone out of their ways to help you with a “glow up.”

Tom, on the other hand, had tried to shape him into a better person in hopes of salvaging your crumbling, if you could even call it that, relationship. He worked harder in class, and every time he saw you sitting in the lecture hall, you were surrounded by other classmates, giving him no place to fit in. He also started to distance himself from his old group of friends, looking for a better, influential group.

Tom couldn’t help but feel a tug at his heart when he saw you walking with one other friend to class, laughing at something they said. He saw how your under eye-bags turned bright and how you shoulders straightened up after the breakup. It broke his heart to know the negative impact he had on you, which you never complained or spoke out about.

The brunette wanted to improve for you andhimself.

How you ended up in a pair of high-waisted, black, denim shorts and a black bandeau with a sheer, cropped, long-sleeved shirt overtop you didn’t know. After much begging and bothering, your friend had convinced you to go to the afterparty of the football game. You tried your best to deny their attempts but failed when they baited you with money.

This would be your first time attending a party, for you were always driven home and away from them. You couldn’t deny, though, the chills that snaked down your spine at the mention of it.

Stepping into the house, you noticed how similar it looked to a fraternity. People were dancing, pushing their bodies against others and grinding their hips onto drunk partners. Other students were playing beer pong, stripping on tables, or resting on couches with a red, plastic cup in their hands. It smelled terribly of sweat and oversaturated body spray, making you gag on your breath.

“How do so many people like this?” You shouted over the pounding music and loud voices.

“How do you not?” You friend giggled, dragging you through the crowd.

Dodging and pushing people off of you, you gripped your friend’s hand tightly, afraid of losing them.

“Where are we going?” You asked, eyes darting all over the place in uncertainty.

“Before we party, we’ve got to get drinks,” they pushed the door of the kitchen open, revealing the alcohol infested space.

Scrambling over to the bulky cooler, they grabbed a can of beer, popping it open and downing it.

Flinching in disgust, you commented, “Don’t you want to wash that, first?”

“What d'you mean? It looks perfectly clean to me,” they shrugged, throwing you a can.

You clumsily captured the condensated drink, before putting it on the counter behind you, “I don’t drink.”

They groaned, “Why are you such a doormat? Come on,” they nudged your shoulder, “Live a little.”

You laughed, “I can "live a little” just fine with water.“

"Ugh, fine. I’m guessing you also want to sit in a corner and become a hermit,” they spoke, sarcastically.

“Actually,” your eyes lit up, “I do.”

“You,” they pointed at you unsteadily, “annoy me, but since I already brought you along,” their finger moved to point at an idle seat in the corner of a calmer room, “There.”

You nodded, eyeing the isolated spot with glee. However, before your friend could escape into the crowd, you told them to stay safe and slipped away to occupy said seat. 

Although Tom no longer associated himself with his old group of friends, he couldn’t avoid them forever, as they were his teammates. Also, as the captain of the football team, it was practically an obligation for him to attend the after parties. 

Honestly, ever since you had broken up with Tom, he had developed a small fear of being whisked away by his fangirls and teammates, constantly thinking you were waiting in his car for him. His guilt had piled on top of his conscious, leaving him an insecure wreck.

Nevertheless, he stepped into the filled building, nodding and waving at familiar faces. One face he wasn’t expecting to see sat in the corner of the room was yours. 

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, he murmured to himself, “She’s not there, you idiot.”

“Tom, buddy,” a familiar voice hollered.

Through your peripheral vision, you swore that you saw his chocolate curls, but when you looked up from your phone, he had disappeared. Your eyes began to dart through the crowd of people, looking for the man you supposedly had gotten over.

Quickly realizing your mistake, you shunned yourself for willingly wrapping yourself around his little finger. You returned to scrolling through your phone, distracting yourself with the illuminated screen.

Tom watched as his teammate, and former friend, grabbed at a girl swaying her hips, pushing her ass against his friend’s crotch, into a grind. Suddenly feeling highly uncomfortable where he stood, he moved into the kitchen to grab a drink.

The room let in muffled sounds but ultimately was the quietest room in the building. The white LED lights left the room bright and easy to navigate, albeit the clusters of finished drinks and used cups littered on the counters and in the sink and overflowing out of the trashcan. 

The brunette drifted over to the fridge, locating the fresh water bottles hidden from other partygoers. 

Feeling quenched, you stood up from your seat, unwillingly. You looked for a quick and precise path to the kitchen, though you failed to do so. Deciding to extemporize it, you awkwardly squished your way through the crowd, mumbling “excuse me” and “sorry” periodically. 

Pushing the white-paint clad, wooden door open, you stumbled your way into the room, glaring at the sudden brightness engulfing your vision. 

Hearing the music and sound of people cheering grow louder, Tom turned around to see the oh-so familiar girl he had fallen infatuated with many months ago.

You stood, blinking your eyes as they tried to adapt to the sudden change of lighting. Groaning, your hands began massaging and harassing the poor skin of your eyelids. 

Your unnoticed ex, still stood in front of the fridge with a cool bottle of water in his hand, smiled at your adorable behaviour — widely contrasting your provocative outfit — watching as your cheeks puffed out in frustration. 

Feeling the haze leave your eyes, you looked ahead of you to see a silhouette emerging. Embarrassed, you blushed, looking down at your shoes. 

You felt a cool presence resting beside your cheek, and quickly looked at the item.

Water?You thought, confused.

Eyes trailing up the arm holding the bottle, your met with the sight of your former boyfriend smiling at you.

“Tom,” you breathed.

After avoiding and ignoring the boy for so many weeks, you already had forgotten how sweet he looked with a smile and soft blush grazing his cheeks. Maybe you hadn’t forgotten; you were just rarely, if ever, given the opportunity to admire it.

“Hey,” he responded, shyly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

You glanced at the bottle then back to Tom, silently asking what he was doing with it.

“O-Oh, I just thought you’d want a bottle of water, since you don’t drink, but if you do now, that’s totally cool too,” he rambled nervously, like a little boy talking to his crush on the playground. 

Although you had only broken up with him a bit over a month ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to trust taking the drink from him.

“Thanks, but I can get one myself. I’m sure you wanted to drink that too.” 

You gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile before walking past him to the fridge. Reaching into the cool container, you pulled out a frosted water bottle. 

The situation was strange. Everything felt so familiar but so different. It didn’t feel right to talk to each other like you knew how they slept in bed at night or how they loved warm cuddles on the couch as they binged shows and movies. 

“Look, Y/N,” Tom spoke up, breaking the tension with a breath, “I know that I was a jerk we were together. I also know that I neglected you. I shouldn’t have cared about what everyone else thought about our relationship. 

“Looking back, I understand why you were so frustrated with me, and you had every right to break up with me. I was a wuss that used protecting you as an excuse to keep you under covers. I reveled in the popularity and attention I got, back then.

“I’m different, now, though. I’m not saying you have to take me back. You don’t even have to consider it. All I want to do, right here, right now, is to apologize to you, so, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the anguish and sadness I caused. I’m sorry you had to waste your tears on me. I’m so fucking sorry, and if I have the slightest chance to even be your friend again, please let me take it.”

You felt a churning in your core, and tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You didn’t understand where your emotions arose from. You thought that you had moved on from Tom. You thought you had left him behind, left him in the shadows of your life. 

You turned around, hand reaching up to quickly wipe your tears away. That is, until a calloused hand grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t,” the accented voice choked, “It hurts me as much as it does you.”

Your words were caught in your throat. You tried to say something, anything, but nothing but sobs slipped your lips. 

Everything became a blur. You could only feel warmth enveloping you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, darling,” Tom murmured into your hair. 

After the encounter at the party, you and Tom went on with your life as normal. 

Although, nothing that happened that night could be considered normal. You cried while he held you tightly in his arms. He apologized for his faults and asked for a second chance, as a friend or more. You forgave him and gave him the chance. 

Will you ever want to have the same relationship you had with Tom as before? No.

You and Tom are working on building a better, healthier relationship for the both of you: an open and honest relationship that won’t be hidden from anyone, especially not his “fangirls.” 

“Don’t ever hide your tears again,” Tom whispered into your hair, “Let them flow.” His pointer finger gently lifts your chin, locking his eyes with your tear-filled ones. He brings his thumb to your cheek, wiping away the shining streaks of pain, sadness, desperation. 

“Let them flow because I’ll be here. I’ll be here to wipe them away every and any time.”

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❧ synopsis: keeping a relationship under covers isn’t an easy feat. when a popular, successful jock of a college, who has many obsessive fans, dates an average student, they decide that it’s better to keep their relationship secret due to safety reasons, but when the jock starts to become more ignorant of how their s/o is feeling, what might happen to their barely stable relationship?

❧ pairing: jock!tom x fem!reader

❧ genre: angst

❧ warnings: lots of angst (?), petty girl fights technically harassment, crying, pent-up emotions, unhealthy coping

❧ a/n: this is an unedited fic, as always and I didn’t know how to end it because I had two endings in mind. I might write both endings (angst and fluff) or maybe I’ll let you guys suffer lmao I’m kidding I originally was writing a blurb about the reader hiding their emotions/hiding their tears by feigning happiness, but I ended up writing like a 2500+ word fic lmao. also if some shit seems wack, it’s because I posted this on my phone.

alternate fluff ending here:let them flow

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Swerving through the large crowd, you found yourself a seat on the filled bleachers, squeezing to fit in the front rows to spot your boyfriend. Looking about, you located your brunette partner jogging into the field arms raised in the air, pointing towards the crowd you were hidden in. He waved his hand mindlessly, eyes scanning the ocean of screaming schoolmates and “fangirls.” His gaze finally fell on you, and his face lit up, bringing a pink haze to your cheeks as he blew a kiss in your direction. The girls sat beside you screamed out, pretending to catch his kiss and sending one back. 

You and Tom decided to keep your relationship under covers, due to the overly obsessive “fangirls.” Both of you knew it would be the best option to keep you safe. If you were ever injured or threatened by one of his “fangirls,” Tom wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

Tom held the leather ball in the crook of his arm, with the other pushing his way through the attacking team. Calculating his success, he dove into a touchdown, scoring him and his team the winning point. 

The anticipating crowd jumped up, cheering loudly and hugging one another, whereas the visitor team’s crowd let out a loud, mutual sigh of disappointment. 

You jumped out of your seat, screaming out your lungs as you stared, wide-eyed, at your beaming boyfriend. His teammates had lifted him into the air, tossing him about. You giggled as he caught your eye, slyly winking at you. 

Lost in your own world, you almost ran down to where Tom was before you saw a hoard of girls jumping and reaching their arms out to grab at him. Frowning, you walked away from the crowd to retreat to the warmth of Tom’s car. 

You scrolled through the collection of images you and Tom had had together, warmly smiling at the memories. You let out a breathy laugh, selecting on one specific memory: Tom’s head laid on your lap, eyes shut, and lips puckered lightly as he let out even breaths. 

The car door beside you opened, shaking you out of your train of thought. 

“Hey,” your eyes were met with the blue pupils you weren’t expecting. 

“Haz?” You looked behind him, hoping to find your beloved boyfriend. 

“Tom — um — he told me to drive you back to the dorms, said he would be heading to the celebratory party,” Harrison explained, eyes shaking with concern and sympathy. 

“Oh, I understand,” your smile not quite making it to your eyes.

“He was being hoarded by his,” Haz hesitates, “fangirls. He didn’t want you to get involved.”

“It’s all good, Hazzy. No need to worry about me,” you let out a feigned laugh. 

You stepped into the warm building, waving Harrison goodbye. Another football victory, same schedule. 

You go to Tom’s game to support and cheer him on, Tom wins, you avoid him, Tom’s “fangirls” hoard him, you wait in Tom’s car, Harrison comes instead of Tom, Harrison brings you back to your dorm while Tom goes to his party, you fall asleep in your own arms: the ‘Tom’s football victory’ schedule, named and created by you. 

To say the least, you weren’t fond of the last half of the schedule. You always were left alone to celebrate Tom’s victory on your own, while Tom was doing who-knows-what at the afterparty. 

In full honesty, you were slowly growing tired of hiding your affection for one another. You didn’t know how much longer you could hold onto this style of dating. If the pair of you were going to date, you would date publicly and however you wanted, whether it meant risking your safety or not. Besides, you weren’t some helpless girl that doesn’t and can’t protect herself.

The next day, you woke up with an aching head and puffy eyes. Groaning, you looked into your mirror located at the corner of your room. You flinched at the sight of your pink, tear-stained cheeks and tangled, mop hair. Pushing yourself off the soft mattress, you stumbled into your bathroom, prepping a warm shower to start your day off fresh.

With your laptop and notebook resting in your arms, against your chest, you made your way to your next lecture. You walked sluggishly across the large campus, occasionally catching a glimpse of passing football team members. 

A specific group you walked past caught your attention. You saw the familiar brunette curls in your peripheral vision, immediately making you turn your gaze towards it. You saw his warm smile as he chuckled with his group of friends, some of his “fangirls” giggling along with the group. 

There Tom stood, laughing and joking about with his peers, radiating happiness. He was basking in the attention he received from his friends and “fans.” 

You tried to catch his eye, and you swore you did for a split second, but he only walked past you as if you weren’t even there. Not even a hidden smile or wink of acknowledgment was sent your way. 

Your walking came to a stop as you frowned at your boyfriend’s back. You wanted to shout out his name, call for his attention. You wanted to nuzzle into his chest, breathing in his scent. You wanted to look into his chocolate-pooled eyes, see the twinkle of adoration as he stared at you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything with Tom in public, for you were just another girl on campus, trying to get by, and Tom was the successful jock with a bright future ahead.

You walked into the large room, taking a seat, conveniently, in front of Tom. This time, you were the one to not spare him a single glance, albeit he probably wasn’t expecting or looking for one. 

You tried your best to listen and focus on the lecture, but the consistent whispers behind your back began to nag at your patience. You leaned your down further into your notes, as if it could fix the slowly kindling fire in you. Checking the clock, you saw that only five minutes of the lecture had passed, and your professor had barely said anything. 

“Five minutes? I swear it felt like half of the lecture had gone by. And the professor. I swear he had just said like tons of important information,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, catching a few students’ gazes. 

You gently pounded a fist into your temple, forcing your attention onto the lined sheets of paper on your desk. You expected to see notes, not illegible scribbles. You silently groaned, switching the sheet for a new, clean page. You took a deep breath and began jotting down the key points of the presentation that was being projected onto the large whiteboard. 

A feminine voice cleared their throat beside you, “Excuse me.”

You looked up from your work, a glare on your face as you were pulled out of your focus once again.

“Can I help you?” You asked, irritated. 

“Uh, yes, you can. You can help me by moving yourself to that seat over there,” she pointed at an empty seat across the room, “and giving this,” she placed her hand on the desk, atop you notes, “seat to me.”

You scoffed, “And why should I?”

“Oh, honey,” you cringed at the nickname, “Tommy, here,” she nodded towards Tom, “shouldn’t have to suffer by looking at your terrible hair. Like, honestly, do you even care for your looks?”

You were practically fuming in your seat, but to avoid trouble, you responded with a monotonous voice, “I’m sure “Tommy” can take care of himself. Spare us both the inconvenience, and go sit yourself on that empty seat because if you couldn’t tell, I’m occupying this spot.”

“Who do you think you are?” She shouted, hand crumpling your notes.

Furrowing your brows, you grabbed at your notes, hoping to spare them.

“Move your ugly ass before I kick you off this seat,” she threatened, pulling you by your hair.

The professor stopped talking, glaring at the pair of you. You took it as a sign to shut up and not fight back.

Fist clenching, nails creating red crescents in your palm, you stood up, pushing the girl off of you, ignoring her gasp. You grabbed your notes and laptop, turning to see if Tom would defend you, but when you saw his passive expression, you let out a quiet laugh of disappointment, carrying yourself to the back of the room. 

For the rest of the class, you stood in the back, writing your notes with blurry, tear-filled vision. Although you were still in shock due to the event that had unfolded minutes into the lecture, you wouldn’t let it falter how you were doing in school. 

As soon as you were dismissed, you bolted out of the room, heading to your safe haven on campus. 

Not many people, if any, knew about the hidden garden located within the campus’s vast park. You had only discovered it by accident when you were a freshman looking for your way around campus. 

The first thought you had when you walked in was that you were transported into a different dimension. Thinking back on it, you were naive to think that, but you were still justified. Anyone would think such a beautiful place couldn’t belong to the aggressivity and rashness of this world. The variant shades of light green and pastel pink flowers growing between the weeds of grass gave the place a heavenly feeling, followed by the mist that sparkled under the sunlight. 

You dropped yourself at the thick tree’s stump, letting your notes and laptop slip out of your grasp. You cried into your knees, pouring out all of your stresses. Your breaths were short and heaved, occasional hiccups bubbling from your lips. Your sobs slowly lulled you closer to sleep, emotional and physical fatigue catching up to you. That is, until you heard the recognizable clang of the door handle hitting against the wooden door.

“Darling,” the accented voice you longed to hear spoke up.

Quickly wiping away your tears and sniffling away any evidence of your sorrow, you stood up, “Tommy!” A feigned smile lay on your supple skin as you ran over to your boyfriend, embracing him in your arms, “What’s up?”

“Are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t speak up for you during class. I should’ve told that girl to get her hands off you,” he stroked your hair, “She didn’t hurt you, did she?” 

Letting a pained giggle out, you shook your head, “Nope, I’m fine. You know how strong I am.”

“I really, really did want to speak up, but you know that we should keep our relationship under covers, for your sake,” he spoke gently, placing a kiss on your head.

You scowled into his shirt but kept up your cheerful facade, chirping, “Mhm, safety.”

“I knew you’d understand,” he sighed. His hold on you weakened, “I should get going, though. The group will start to wonder where I’ve gone.”

You frowned, pulling away from him.

“Don’t be like that, darling,” he cooed, “I’ll come over tonight. Don’t worry.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “Of course, as you always do.”

His brows furrowed at your sudden mood shift, “What are you on, darling?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirp, hopping back to the tree, collecting your notes and laptop. “Go ahead, meet with your friends. Leave me behind like you always do,” you murmur the last half.

“Love?” His voice neared you, and you barely registered the stray tears betraying you, rolling down your peachy cheeks. 

Quickly bringing up a hand to wipe the wetness away, you keep your back facing Tom.

“Shouldn’t you be going? Don’t want your friends to worry,” you laughed, lightly. A hand placed itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact startling you. “You scared me, Tommy. You shouldn’t do that,” you giggle, hiding your true emotions, “You know how easily scared I am.”

“Darling, can you look at me?” He asked, quietly, concern lacing his tone. 

“What for, Tommy?” You inquired, nervously laughing.

“You’re acting quite… strange,” he explained.

“No need to worry about me, bubs. I’m as peachy as always,” you quipped, shoulders bouncing in emphasis.

“I’m giving you one more chance to turn, or I will do it for you,” he said, sternly. 

You stayed, unmoving, forcing Tom to turn you with his raw strength. At first, you tried to fight it, but you came to the revelation that there was no way you could overpower him.

When you met his warm, liquid eyes, you felt your own tear up, and suddenly, your shoes were an intriguing sight. 

“Baby, please look at me,” he whispered, hands rubbing up and down your arms.

You shook your head in denial, trying to keep your weakness hidden.

“It breaks me to see you this way,” he lifted your face with a finger to your chin. His thumb moved to wipe away your crystal tears.

“Then leave,” you hissed, weakly.

“W-What?” Tom stuttered at the unforeseen reply.

“I’m tired, Tom. I’m tired of hiding, of you ignoring me and me, you. How long are we going to do this? It’s so stupid, all of it,” you dropped your head again, this time of fatigue.

“B-But, you know why we’re doing this-” you cut him off.

“I know, and I can’t help but think that this was a stupid choice,” you motioned between the two of you, “You’re barely around me, and on campus, you don’t even acknowledge me. On the slim chance I do have you to myself, it can only last for so long. At this point, it feels like we’re not even together.”

“I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?” Fear filled his eyes as the pit in his stomach became more and more noticeable.

“I think it would be better if-” you stuttered in a breath, “if we took a break.”

“Why? Just because we’re hiding our relationship? You know why I- we chose to keep it secret,” he rushed out his words, hands gripping yours.

“Do I? Do I really? Today was display enough that even though we act like we don’t know each other, I’ll still get harassed by those “fans” of yours. Not to mention, you saw it all unravel, and what did you do? Nothing. There’s no practicality to keeping our relationship hidden because either way, some “fans” will go overboard no matter who the person. Also, I think I showed that I can defend myself from crazy people when I pushed that girl off of me today,” you spoke, ferocity and resentment spurring you on.

“I know I messed up when I didn’t help you, but I thought about our relationship-” you scoffed.

“So what? Even if we weren’t in a relationship, you should’ve helped a girl out. Especially when she’s getting harassed because of you,” you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“Tell me how to make it better. I want to make it better. Don’t end us, please,” he begged, gripping your hand tighter.

“Stop, Tom. I told you that I want to take a break. Besides, it won’t be any different to how our normal relationship is,” you laughed. Pulling your arm out of his grasp, you walked away, “Now, I won’t have to waste any tears on you anymore.”

❧prompt: you and tom grew up together but always as enemies — nothing more, nothing less. as you grow older, you must realize it’s time to be mature. you either must throw tom out of your life or take him in as an ally. which will you choose?

❧pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader x prince!park jimin

❧genre: angst, barely any fluff, e2l

❧warnings: light swearing, slight verbal abuse (nothing too heavy, only degradation), heartbreak ?

❧a/n: lmao there are so many hidden symbols in this fic except some are revealed so i’ll explain the color symbols in this fic: orange is the change of attraction, pink is romance, and purple is the two characters coming to peace with each other. also this is a bit longer than what i usually write so ;P hopefully the second part makes up for the shitty first chapter lmao. shit, i was originally not going to write a third part but umm… shit. ok see you in the third chapter lmao smh

←chap. 1     chap. 3→

masterlist                     prompt list

In your white organza, you let your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the gorgeously growing gardenias. Your dress flows with your movement as you step forward, observing the chrysanthemums. Looking as perfect as usual, you moved ahead to observe your candytufts. All flowers were white, like your dress. 

Truthfully, how you obtained these enchanting flowers still puzzles you. They just suddenly appeared one day when you were considering doing something with the empty space the flowers had suddenly occupied in the garden. However, you don’t care. The flowers are perfect.

Life has become quiescent ever since Tom has left you alone, almost to the point you regret pushing him away. Of course, there was a reason to why you acted the way you did. It was time for you to mature, and Tom wasn’t helping that growth whatsoever. Although the more you think about it, the more you realize that you could’ve taken him in as an ally. You couldn’t avoid him forever, and neither could he. Eventually the two of you would grow to rule your kingdoms as king and queen.

Shaking off the growing feelings of regret, you twirl back to the kingdom, hair whipping around with you. Taking one last breath of the fresh air surrounding you, you drag your heavy body back into the same, old, stodgy castle you’ve been living in for years. 

To your surprise, a handmaiden is waiting for you, instructing you to follow her on behalf of the king, your father. Leading you to the doors of the dining hall, she adjusts and cleans off your dress, combing your hair until it neatly falls onto your shoulders.

“She’s ready,” you hear the handmaiden whisper to the tall standing butler before quickly rushing off.

“Madam,” he says sticking his arm out as the door opens, “Her royal highness, Princess Y/N L/N.”

Awkwardly curtsying in your dress, you look up to see unfamiliar faces sat across your parents’. The first face to draw in your attention is a man that looks young — a bit older than you but almost your age. Suddenly standing, the man bowed, no words spoken. You smile awkwardly before moving to take the seat beside your mother and across from the man. 

“Ah,” the woman sitting across from your mother spoke, “how nice it is to finally meet you.”

You smiled warmly, though forcibly. Your hands rest in your lap, each finger toying with the other. You look down at your manicured hands, taking a moment to put together the pieces, but nothing came to mind. Looking up in frustration, your eyes meet the man across from you. He looks angelic.

His silver hair and pale skin made him look soft. Not only that but his eyes are enchanting. They are a beautiful crystal blue color, reeling you in like you are under a spell. He has plump, pink lips, glistening every time he licks them. 

You hear someone clear their throat, “May I introduce King Park and Queen Park of South Korea and their son, Prince Park Jimin.”

 Looking around expectedly, waiting for your father or mother to speak up, you are only met with eyes staring at you.

“O-Oh,” you cough gingerly, “It’s a honor to meet you, King Park and Queen Park.” Looking over at the silver-haired boy, you shyly smile, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Park.”

He smiles, and you feel your heart clench at the sight, “And I, you, Princess L/N.”

He stands as you do, bowing to you before stretching a hand out for yours. Hesitantly, you place your hand gently in his and watch as he lightly kisses the back of your hand. Sitting back down, you feel heat rising to your cheeks as your thumb strokes the tingling sensation on the back of your hand. 

“Great,” your father quips, “Now that we’ve familiarized ourselves, let’s talk about the marriage.”

At the word, your head snaps up to look at your father. Your gaze seems to be searching for something, a sign that tells you that your ears are deceiving you. Sadly, nothing suggests that your ears are wrong. 

For the rest of the discussion, you’re not in your body, soul floating about and out of the kingdom. What pulls you back to reality is the sensation of the chair attempting to be pulled out from underneath you.

Abruptly, you stand up, curtseying the Park Royalty goodbye.

“See you soon, princess,” Jimin says, exchanging the title for a cheeky nickname, before kissing the back of your hand once more but letting his lips linger longer. 

You blush away from his touch and give him a shy smile as you watch his slim figure slip out of the large doors.

Once the family is no longer in your sight, you burst at your parents, “Marriage? Seriously?” 

You are infuriated. You never expected to be married off to some stranger, nonetheless at such a young age. You had just turned 21, for fucks sake. Moreover, they didn’t even consider discussing the situation beforehand.

“Look, darling,” your mother places a delicate hand on your cheek, “We’re growing old and soon we won’t be able to protect this kingdom. We need to pass it on to someone more reliable and trustworthy.”

“Yeah, then pass it on to me. Just me,” you clarify.

“As much as I’d love to do that, you know it’s not possible. You’re not possibly strong enough on your own,” she gives you sympathetic eyes.

“I’m- Excuse me? Not only are you stripping away my freedom of choosing my own significant other, but you’re now degrading me?” You snap, seeing red. 

“You know that’s not what I mean-” your father cuts your mother off.

“Enough! We gave you a chance already,” he huffs, anger rising as well.

“What chance? Vincent? If I had known that-”

“Vincent? That silly boy? No, that was show enough that you can’t choose the right people to help rule this kingdom, but albeit that wasn’t your chance. There’s someone else that’s been beside you all your life. It’s been planned for ages, and you just had to go off and ruin it,” your father roars.

“Who else is there? My handmaidens?” You laugh sarcastically, tears filling your eyes.

“Think, you foolish child! If you can’t even figure out who it is, you definitely won’t be able to rule a kingdom alone,” you shake angrily at your father’s debasing words.

Thinking as hard as you can through your sorrowful rage, a face pops into your head.

Tom.

“Has it finally clicked yet?” Your father’s voice breaks your trance.

“Tom,” you whisper, weakly.

Without any other words, he nods, escorting your mother and himself out of the room, leaving you to think to yourself. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a handmaiden spoke up, “would you like us to prepare anything? Like a bath or supper?”

Shaking your head, you dismissed her, thoughts racing in your head.

It suddenly got all too stuffy to be staying in the kingdom. You had to get out. You had to breathe in the fresh air of the wet grass, old, growing trees, and your precious flower garden.

Moving as fast as your heel-clad feet could take you, you rush out and towards your white flowers when you notice a silhouette standing above them, watering them.

His brunette locks shine in the golden light of the setting sun. As you move closer, you can see his well-constructed body through his garments. What he wore wasn’t anything special, just a white button down and grey trousers. 

“Did you know?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Of course I knew,” he replies, quietly, voice soft to soothe you.

“Why didn’t you-” you felt yourself choke on your words, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to force you into falling for me,” he simply shrugs, hands playing with your flowers. “Although, seeing where we are now, I can’t say that what I did has encouraged us towards marriage.”

Standing in silence together, the pair of your stare at the flowers, the white of the petals turning orange, then pink, and then purple, following the shifting colors of the sky. 

“I’ve missed you,” you suddenly blurt out.

Tom turns his head to face you, “I’ve missed you as well, darling.”

Tears erupt from your eyes, and you fall into Tom’s chest, arms wrapping around his torso.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I didn’t mean what I said at the ball. I don’t know what got into me.”

You felt him press a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s alright, darling,” he sighs, hand rubbing the arch of your back.

“It’s not. What I said was wrong. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” you shake your head, hair sticking onto your wet skin.

“I forgive you, darling. Please stop crying,” he says sweetly before pulling back to wipe away your tears.

You look at him with glistening, doe eyes. Your hair is a wild mess, and the minimal makeup you wore had smudged off, revealing your natural beauty.

“Do you want to know something about your flowers?” Tom asks, trying to change the subject and cheer you up.

Nodding, you give him a silent answer.

“These,” he points at your chrysanthemums, “mean truth,” next, the candytufts, “indifference, and finally, my favorite,” the gardenias, “secret love.” He looks over to see your sparkling eyes of fascination, “Ever wonder how you got these?”

“Yes, I wonder every time I see them. Do you know who or how?” You ask, completely oblivious to the fact that he knows you didn’t personally request for the flowers to be planted.

He chuckles, “It was I, darling.”

You turn to face him in shock, “You?”

“Let me explain,” he smiles, “I first sent these to you when I realized my feelings for you. The gardenias represented my hidden love for you, the white chrysanthemums represented that I was going to tell you soon, and the candytufts represented you and your indifference for my feelings. You were perfect. You are perfect,” he corrects himself, “Then, when you started Vincent, I became jealous, and I was mad that you chose the man that you had barely known over me. I was beside you all of your life, yet you chose him,” Tom’s face contorts in jealousy. “I became bitter, and whenever I saw you, I saw him. He was always beside you. I treated you more harshly because of him, but when I heard news of your breakup, I immediately regretted the way I treated you. I should’ve protected you, rather than ignoring you.”

With eyes of awe, you whisper to yourself, “Tom likes me?”

“I’d say ‘love,’ but if you’re more comfortable with ‘like’ then I happy that you’re happy,” he chuckles.

You warm smile drops, “I’m sorry I treated you with such dislike. If I’d known, I would’ve respected you.”

The smug look on his face drops as well, “Does this mean you don’t feel the same way about me?”

“Well, to be honest, Tom, up until a couple weeks ago, I thought we had a mutual hate, but I do think that I have potential feelings for you that are slowly but surely arising. Although, even if we wanted to be together, it would be impossible,” you look down at your hands, tears developing in your quivering eyes at the mention of the arranged marriage.

He smiles lamentably, “I know.”

The two of you stand in silence, heads hanging in despair. None of you have anything else to say, only there to enjoy being in each others presence. You only move when you hear sniffles that don’t belong to you.

“Tom?” You say his name, hopelessly. Not receiving a response from him, you look up to see his shaking figure. “Oh, Tommy,” you coo, taking him into your arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you rub his back, face snuggled in the crook of his neck.

You let Tom sob in your arms until he ran out of tears to cry. When he finally collects himself and is in the right state of mind, again, he places a gentle kiss to your cheek before running off and leaving you to yourself in your dark garden.

You look up at the sky. The sun is already long gone, and the stars have come out to play with the moon. A tear falls down your cheek, left with confused feelings and a broken heart.

Jimin sits on the marble seat of his balcony, staring up at the dark sky, wondering what you were up to at the moment. He was infatuated with you at first glance; your beauty lures and traps him. 

Jimin smiles at the twinkling stars, a sense of thrill flowing through him.

There were three stars that shone especially brightly that night. One of said stars twinkled its last day, falling unannounced, leaving the one star sad and confused and the other excited and ready.