❝I'm Kimmon Warodom Khemmonta, and you are?❞
♡
Kimmon's a heartless man, no doubt about it. He's cruel, arrogant, and simply lacks empathy. That is until he suddenly changes overnight, and Copter doesn't know what the hell to do.
A KimCop Fanfictio...
●○● A/N: Hello and welcome to another adventure! u-u This story is one of my two entries for the KimCop Fic Exchange held in AO3. It was an activity hosted in which authors give other authors prompt ideas and it's up to you to write it as you wish, and this is how I've written mine. The prompt was requested by joymeljin and she is one of the talented authors in our community! Check her works out- you won't regret it. <3
I've already noted this in AO3, for anyone who has already read this story through there, but this story is considerably long (longer than I expected it to turn out to be), so just take your time and don't rush with it. I'd also like to mention that this story will be containing mature language and mature themes; which I'll recommend you to steer away from if you're not comfortable. I'll put one warning before said chapter, just in case.
That's all for now. Enjoy!
BOOK STARTED: July, 18, 2021. BOOK ENDED: July, 28, 2021.
- To Joy Melanie. ♡︎
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The papers drop all over the floor, accompanied by the noisy clatter of the pen that followed most irritatingly. There's a sharp exhale of frustration as Copter crouches down, trying to grab the fallen things while at the same time running his fingers between his brunette locks, the obvious hair gel feeling icy against his skin.
Of-fucking-course he had overdone it with his hair gel today, he didn't even notice.
Or perhaps, he did, but he was way too angry right now to acknowledge anything. His heart was rattling in his chest, his brain was clouding up heavily, and Copter willed to do nothing but scream. Just scream. His friends, even parents, once said "If you're ever feeling stressed, just scream and you'll feel better!". Well, damn right to that. He wanted to scream so bad, he was about to pluck his hair right out of his head, one by one.
Or maybe all at once like a bandaid so it will hurt less.
At this point, it doesn't even fucking matter, Copter curses inwardly, tucking the papers under his arm and shoving his pen back into his breast pocket.
