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#went for no color this time to dry and be done sooner and get over my art block?

yandere-daydreams · 8 months

Text

Title: A Cat On The Shrine Roof.

Pairing: Yandere!Ei x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Hybrid AU, Nekomata!Ei, Kidnapping, Mind-Control, and Non-Consensual Touching.

It was your fault, really. For not listening when the priestess told you not to linger at the shrine.

The head priestess had cautioned you against it, her painted lips (a sign of vanity uncommon among women in her position) quirking upward as she warned you of the monsters waiting in the forest who would love nothing more than to gobble up little acolytes who shirk their responsibilities. She told you, in no unexplicit terms, to make your offering, recite your prayers, and hurry back to the village as quickly as you could, but you hadn’t thought to listen for sincerity in her playful tone, to wonder if their way any advice in the childish nursery rhythms she half-sung as she prepared the bundle of rice and saké and silver coins you were to leave on the doorstep. If you’d listened, you might not have been so slow-footed as you wandered through the forest, stopping every few minutes to pick wildflowers or admire the way the sunlight bled through the tree canopy. If you’d listened, you might’ve been so preoccupied with your prayers that you wouldn’t have noticed the muffled sound of a shamisen, wouldn’t have let your curiosity get the better of you and ventured into the decrepit shrine.

If you’d listened, you wouldn’t be standing in front of a monster, praying to every god you’ve ever worshiped that its appetite had already been sated by some other foolish traveler.

It had to be a monster. It had to be. The creature sitting in front of you was undeniably a hybrid, but what kind, you wouldn’t dare to guess. For the most part, she looked like a cat; sleek ears rising out of her neatly braided hair, black-furred paws sitting where her feet should’ve been, hints of pointed teeth hanging over her bottom lip, but the idea that you’d stumbled onto the den of a stray housecat broke down as you went on.

Where there should’ve been one tail sprouting from the base of her spine, there were two, the end of each wrapped in a violet ribbon, and she was far, far taller than any hybrid you’d ever seen. Even sitting on the floor, bent over her instrument, the top of her head was level with your midriff, and you could see evidence of lean muscle underneath her traditional kimono. Most unsettling of all were her eyes – slit pupils sitting in a sea of iridescent lavender, not unsimilar to the color of lightning as it arced through the sky. For a second, while the rational part of your mind was still blank with panic, it occurred to you that meeting her unblinking stare might leave you as scared as its more eye-catching counterpart, but you tried not to think about that. If you let yourself believe she could end you with little more than a glance, you were already done for.

She broke the silence, surprisingly. “Oh,” she started, clearly more than a little surprised herself. “You must be one of Miko’s.”

Your tongue felt heavy, your throat dry. You didn’t realize you were talking until you heard the sound of your own voice. “P-please don’t eat me.”

The stuttered plea earned a pair of widened eyes, a breath of a laugh. “So, you are one of Miko’s. I should’ve known she’d be spreading rumors about me.” She laid her shamisen across her lap, careful to keep her curved talons from scratching the wood. “I’m assuming you know who I am?”

Jerkily, you shook your head, and she softened in response, her expression taking on a sympathetic lilt. “Oh, poor thing. You must’ve been terrified.” You had been. You still were. The only reason you weren’t shaking was because you were too scared to move. “I thought we would’ve been well-acquainted, considering how many times I’ve heard your prayers.”

Instantly, your heart dropped in your chest. Hastily, you fell into a shallow bow, clenching your eyes shut and cursing yourself for not making the connection sooner. “Narukami Ogosho, Almighty Mistress of Thunder, I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“Call me Ei. There’s no need for titles here.” If she was offended by your obliviousness, you weren’t able to hear her anger, to make anything other than pity and a vague sense of amusement out in her expression. You could only be thankful. If meeting her eyes would be enough to kill you, you couldn’t imagine how you’d fare if she actually decided to seek retribution. “Come, sit with me.”

“With all do respect, I think the priestess is—”

“Sit with me.”

You didn’t want to. You were still frozen where you stood, still trying to summon the courage to run, but that didn’t seem to matter. Your body moved on its own, drawn forward by some invisible set of strings, a soft melody playing somewhere in the distance as you stumbled closer to the creature, closer to Ei. You didn’t so much sit next to her as fall into place at her side – your knees buckling and leaving you to catch yourself before you could fully hit the ground.

After you’d settled into a rigid, unsteady sort of kneeling pose, Ei reached out, letting her knuckles brush against your cheek before taking you by the chin. “You might be the loveliest she’s sent so far.” If she’d been tall at a distance, she was massive now. Her hand alone was enough to stretch across the length of your jaw, and you could picture her, no matter how hard you tried not to, crushing your skull with one decisive movement. Your vision blurred, your breathing growing rapid, but if your fear was visible, she didn’t seem to warrant it worth her attention. “I did tell her not to send anything else, but…” A contemplative hum, a padded thumb pressed into your cheek. “She has always been so tricky, hasn’t she? I don’t know what could possibly make a mortal so brazen.”

The melody was getting louder. The musician must’ve been sitting outside of the shrine. “Mistress, I really have to get back to the—”

“You’ll stay here.” Louder, now, as if the strings were being plucked only a hair’s width from your ear. You should’ve run. You should’ve prayed to something else. “You’ll stay here, with me, and you will never stray farther than I can follow. Isn’t that right?”

Eagerly, desperately, you nodded, tears running freely down your cheeks as you rushed to take her hand by the wrist, to press yourself into her palm. Ei chuckled, the sound laced with a reverberating purr.

“I’m glad you agree.”

The music had grown deafening, and yet, you couldn’t seem to imagine listening to anything other the sound of her voice.

“It would be a shame to have to refuse such a fine offering.”

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mae-dwrites · 2 years

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Rue - Chapter 1

Story Materlist | Ao3 | Wattpad

She hadn't felt this numb in so long. She didn't want to believe it, but the evidence was irrefutable. Everything lined up, and the closer she looked back the clearer it became. He had gradually become more distant and tried to cover it up by giving over-blown affection.

Marinette turned the water off and set the plate in the drying bin. Taking a breath in she dried her hands off. She sent a text out as she checked on her girls, she cracked the door open to them peacefully sleeping. She leaned against the door frame and sighed with contentment, her girls were her most important part of her life. Even more so than being Ladybug, or a Guardian. And more important than Adrien, no matter how much he had affected her life he was no longer a part of her life as of tonight. Marinette had grown from being the obsessive young teen, then had been her most embarrassing time but now was the time she most regretted. As much as she appreciated her best friend, she wished she hadn't encouraged her.

Her phone went off.

You got this, just call if you need help. We're here for you and the girls.

She smiled and sent a thumbs up. She closed the girls’ room to head to the living room, she got her knitting project out. Mylène and Ivan were adopting a girl and so she asked for the girl’s favorite color(s) so she could make her a hat. There were commissions or designs she could work on but she needed to get this over with, she couldn’t let herself get caught up with anything. And knitting had become a mindless task, once you’ve done it long enough. She started the brim of the hat.

Knit, knit. Pural, pural. Knit, knit. Pural, pural. Knit, knit. Pural, pural. And onwards. She had already gotten a few rows started for the head of the hat when Adrien finally came home. It was almost ten, just over two hours from when dinner was finished. He locked the door, kicking off his shoes as he hung his coat up. She heard his keys clang into the bowl, his footsteps were hushed as he went down the hall.

“Oh, Maribun, I thought you would be in bed. You didn’t have to stay up for me.” His voice was sweet, but the nerves were clear enough. His smile was fake, it was his model smile. Mari had seen it more and more, but had brushed it off. Adrien took to rolling the bottom of his sweater between his fingers.

“Actually Adrien I wanted to talk to about something,” she expressed. Adrien tensed up enough that Marinette noticed as she put down her knitting and sat up. “Could you sit down please?”

“Uh, um, yeah of course.” His smile was slightly strained and he tried to relax in the seat parallel to hers. “What did you want to talk about?”

Marinette took a breath and clasped her hands together, “I-”she took another breath and started tapping her fingers“-don’t want you to freak out, or try to argue with me. I want a calm adult conversation.”

He nodded, “Of course.”

“I know about Lila.”

“What?” He stopped his fiddling and his head tilted slightly.

“I said I know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please don’t make me say it Adrien.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying Marinette,” he rolled his sweater with more force than before. “Are you well? You really need to go to bed sooner rather than staying up late for work.”

Marinette took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “Adrien don’t lie to me please. Have you or have you not been with Lila?”

Adrien's eyes widened and he frowned at her, “Mari why would you think of such a thing? I haven’t seen or heard from Lila since lycée.”

Marinette thought she would have broken if she heard him lie to her, especially about Lila. But she didn’t, she was hurt beyond measure, yes. But a part of her had expected him to lie. That’s what hurt the most, was that she had been right. If only she could be wrong, if only they had been wrong. She pursed her lips together, and turned away from him for a moment.

“I-“ her voice cracked. She opened her bag and took out a slim binder and folder. “Alya has had her suspicions for a while and you know her. She doesn’t know when to cover her nose. And, um,” she opened the folder to show pictures of Adrien with Lila. Going for walks, him holding her hand, her latching onto him, sitting in cafes together. Adrien smiling, really smiling even in some.

“Mari this is all out of context, I’m-“ his lies were cut off.

“Really?” She grabbed the stack and took the ones from the bottom. Photos of him kissing Lila and going to where Marinette assumed was her house. “Are these taken out of context? What about these? Lie to me again, Adrien.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “Not to mention Chloé bumping into Alya during this and guess what she got Sabrina to look at for them?” She opened the binder, “These are your calls from within the last two years. Two years. Every call you had with her highlighted, and because they go above and beyond. Every word, every breath, is there. Not to mention Alya got video proof of you with her, and we both know how amazing she is with a camera. You’ve seen the Ladyblog videos.”

Adrien was silent until he finally stated, “You had Alya spy on me? Mari what the hell!”

“E-excuse me? I did n-”

“You’re always so paranoid!” He stood up waving the folder.

“Adrien please don’t yell. I just want to talk about this.”

“And you’re spending time with Chloé, when you didn’t even want me hanging out with her back in collegé? You are such a hypocrite!”

Mari stood up, “Adrien please sit down, we don’t need to wake up anyone. I want to sort this out calmly.”

“No Marinette, this is wrong. See this is why I said you shouldn’t hang out with Alya anymore. Cause she pulls bull like this!”

“Do you even hear yourself Adrien? You’re not even ashamed of yourself?”

“What I hear is you had Alya follow me, this is your own fault,” He threw the folder on the coffee table. “It’s all fine when you just give me more of your time.” He went around the table to her. “We’re perfect together, but both sides need to give.” He reached to hold her face but she stepped away. He frowned and kept moving forward.

“Adrien I have been giving, I’ve been giving a lot to our relationship. If you would just get rid of your tinted glasses you’d see that.” She took another step back. “And we aren’t perfect, no one is perfect.”

He kept stepping forward, “No but we are,” he grabbed her wrist. “We’re made for each other, Marinette.”

Marinette tensed.

No, no, no, no, no. It has to be a coincidence. It couldn’t be.

“We’re made for each other, M’lady!”

“No, that’s how love works, Adrien. Please give me space,” She took a step towards the balcony doors. Adrien kept following her steps, “Marinette you’re overreacting, just-“

“Adrien, I believe I’m underreacting if anything.” Adrien put her hand on his chest, she used her other hand to reach behind towards the balcony doors. “Adrien please, I would like some room.”

“Marinette, I love you more than anything. You know that right?” He cupped her face but she pulled away. His brows pulled together as his lips became a flat line.

“Your actions say otherwise, please can we just sit back down and talk this out.” her hand was ready on the handle while she leaned farther away from him.

“It’s okay, Maribun,” he leaned down to her, his eyes going half closed. Marinette unclipped the handle’s hold, slid it open and grabbed it with her foot sliding it fully open. She yanked Adrien with her arm out onto the balcony, he lost his grip on her wrist and fell hitting his head. Marinette pulled her wrist to her chest, her breathing was increasing in speed.

“Marinette,” he growled. “How could you do that?” His voice suddenly soft, sending Marinette for a whiplash.

Marinette went back for her bag shoving her items back in it and grabbed her phone out. She tapped favorites and pressed call.

“What’s wrong? Please tell me it went well.”

Marinette rushed across the apartment to the girls’ bedroom, “Which miraculous do you have?” On the other end she heard yelling between some of her friends. “Mine in the box but Chloé still has hers.” She opened the door and started shaking Emma awake, “Hey baby go wake up your sister, okay?” Emma nodded with a yawn.

“Okay tell her to transform, I grant her temporary access to the box. Get the horse, open a portal to the girls room,” she stated. She looked down to Hugo tugging at her pants, “Maman what’s wrong?” She melted at her daughter's words, “Nothing sweetie.” She grabbed their hands and knelt to their level, “You remember the teleport trick you do with Mommy?” They nodded their heads, Emma with enthusiasm while Hugo nodded her small face with concern.

“Well we need to do that right now, I will be with you soon okay?” Marinette squeezed their hands, Emma squeezed back and Hugo gave a firm nod. “Okay, close your eyes, and don’t open your eyes cause then it doesn’t work.” The girls did as they were told and Mari went back to her phone, “You ready?”

“Yes, just tell me when.” Alya answered worried, her call had been changed to be on her horseshoe. She had a feeling they should have been there with her, but she let Mari do it on her own like she wanted. She resisted the urge to sigh, she should have offered to have the girls but she didn’t.

“When I say the second turn, and detranform before they open their eyes,” Mari said in a hushed voice. “Okay girls ready?” They shook their heads, “Okay turn, turn-“a portal opened in front of them”-turn. Stop and step forward. Mommy will see you soon.” The portal closed, she heard Emma’s squealing to see ‘Auntie Alya’ on the other side of the phone, “Oh my goodness, what do we have here? The Magical Gems in the flesh! there’s juice in the fridge with Chloé and Nino waiting for you.”

“Okay what do you need me to do now?” Alya turned to her phone now that the girls had gone into the kitchen. She could hear Marinette rushing through the apartment.

“I- I don’t know. He hasn’t come instead from the balcony, I threw him on it.” She brushed her hand through her hair as she collected it to put in a ponytail, “I told him I knew he tried to deny it,” she grabbed a duffel bag stuffing clothes and various items in it. “He tried to come onto me and wouldn’t listen to me.” She grabbed the Miracle Box and shoved it into the bag wrapping clothes around it.

“He what.” Alya clenched her fist.

“But somethings off, and I can’t quite place it.” That wasn’t true, she could feel what it was. She just didn’t want to believe til she saw it, just like with the Lila situation.

“You head over here right now or so help me, I will be the last thing you see till your next life.” Marinette chuckled as her anxiety continued to let itself be known. She slipped her shoes on and pulled down one of her hoodies, she unlocked the door and pulled the bag’s strap over. She hesitated at the door knob, she swallowed. “I just need to make sure he’s okay at least before I leave, his head did hit the balcony.”

“Mari, he is not worth your time, just get out and I can open another portal.” Alya had headed to her bedroom and transformed again. Marinette entered the living/dining area and froze looking through the balcony door. Adrien hadn’t come in but he wasn’t on the balcony.

“Open a portal outside my apartment door.”

“Got it,” she spoke the word and a portal opened to Marinette’s apartment door. Marinette ran to the door and stepped through.

#daminette #adrien salt #mlb x dc #maribat #damian x marinette #rue #maribat fanfic #mominette

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kloofspeaks · 10 months

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The Flower Shop of Lemoore | A Bob Floyd Fictional Work

Words: 2017

Sneakpeek:

“Well, if the great Floyd speaks of them so highly, why haven’t you mentioned them sooner? you big goof.” She was still messing around with him, just having light-hearted fun on their joyride to the place Floyd was surprising her with. “You never asked, you out of all people know I enjoy my job.”

“Oh, don’t I know it, You'd rather talk about flowers than spend your day watching paint dry.” Floyd perked up at that, “Oh, come on. You wouldn’t?” She shrugged at him, “I enjoy flowers not as much as you but.. You made me admire them a little closer each time nowadays.”

Flower nine out of twenty

Today's Flower: Unknown

Chapter List can be found : here

Dedicated to: @notyoursbutlewis

Quick A/N: This is a chapter I spilt into two, the second half will be done next week.

A deep sigh left her, she was staring in the mirror admiring the dress she picked out for her and Floyd’s special moment wherever he was taking her. She blew a raspberry, “It’s too floral.” She muttered to herself pulling at the loose fabric that made a fluffy skirt. What was she saying? Floyd was a owner of a flower shop, he would probably admire her like he admires the flowers that surround him. She tilted her hand up looking at her watch, her eyes falling to the window. She snatched up her boots by the door, along with her over the shoulder purse. She hadn’t dressed this nice since her last romantic relationship. She felt safe with Floyd, she knew he wouldn’t be anything like her Ex ever was to her. She just had a growing fear in the back of her mind gently snagging at her.

She brought herself down the stairs, startled by a honk that came from outside.

‘That has to be him’

She grabbed her house keys and opened the door and spooked Floyd who was reaching out to knock, “Seems you beat me to it.” He snickered, he had a button up cream color shirt with a warm sweater vest over it. They both were matching, his vest having a similar looking floral pattern much like her dress. “I guess I did.” She had a small smile gliming on her face.

She had never realized that Floyd was one of the few people that made her break her tired demeanor, he always brought this warm feeling to her chest. She didn’t think much of it often, nor did she think of him other than when she was heading to the shop but she felt at home when he came around. “We’re matching..” He expressed warmly, pointing towards her dress without warning.

“I can assure you, I didn’t plan anything. I just thought Hey! He’s a florist, he would like this right?” She laughed shortly after speaking which made Floyd smile so wide that his glasses slid down his nose. Almost on instinct she reached forward and pushed them up, “Lead me to your car won’t you, Floyd? I wouldn’t keep waiting much longer if I were you.”

“Oh, I could keep you waiting all day.. But thankfully I am not that type of guy.” He put his hand out for her to grasp, she took it without hesitation letting him lead her down the steps towards the car that was resting beside the sidewalk. “I have to be honest with you, Floyd. You’re going to have to cut me some slack.. I haven’t been on a date in a good few years.” She felt old saying that sentence.

Floyd spoke her name with a kind tone that followed it, “Is it because of your last relationship?” He questioned, his brow rising in curiosity. She left a small nod, looking down at their clasped hands that swung with each step they took together.

“It didn’t end well, I don’t remember mentioning my relationship..” She was still gazing at their hands, Floyd gave her a small squeeze.

“You brought it up once I believe, never went into detail. But, I promise you.. I’m trying my best not to fall flat on this concrete.” He laughed which made her look up and laugh with him for a moment, “Trust me, he did a lot more than fall.” She snickered, allowing him to get the door for her and sit inside of his fresh smelling car.

There were small floral designs everywhere, on the dash there were small paintings of swirls and flowers. “You painted in here?” She asked, her pointer finger running over the small details that made the car suddenly have a Floyd-like charm to it. He answered when he was finished getting into the driver's seat and looked where she was brushing over.

“No, actually. I had a friend that cleaned my car and she added a bunch of designs with this guy.” He mentioned, “I call her Phoenix, she’s a tattoo artist.” He hummed, starting up his car with a small twist of the key in the hole. The radio snapped on and the disc he had burned started to play: Superlike.

“I didn’t know Floyd knew a tattoo artist.” She teased, and he gave a small “Ha!” “She used to work with a guy I knew at this cafe, I call him Roo, they both decided to start a tattoo place after the cafe burned down in an accident. They’re a great duo, you should meet them sometime.” He shifted the car into drive, pulling out and heading on his way.

“I didn’t think me showing you flowers would make you admire them.” He shook his head in disbelief. His eyes on the road as he drove, she was staring at him still.

“Well, it did,” She muttered, her eyes flickering back to the road, “It made me love them.” She breathed out slowly thinking about the day they met, if it hadn’t been for the beauty of the store she would’ve never stumbled in. He would’ve never shown her a flower, one that had meaning, the first flower to make a breakthrough.

“Have I said.. I told you so?” He chuckled, “Once you meet a Floyd, You never look at anything the same again!” She knew he was right but she would never admit it.

Y/N was Clever, she knew what would please Floyd if she did tell him he was correct about everything till that moment, in his car that was somehow extremely comfortable, with his non-form fitting glasses that seemed to slip off at every given chance that he would look down. He was as special as the flowers he chose to speak about.

“What’s today’s flower?” She muttered, her eyes still staying on the moving road in front of them. Floyd’s fingers tapped the steering wheel in rhythm as his face twisted slightly, “I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.” He said awkwardly, his voice breaking around the edges.

“Floyd without a flower? It sounds almost unheard of,” She was amused by his reaction. “I know, it’s a bummer isn’t it? I guess things do change.” He had sort of a joking manner behind everything. He took his eyes off the road while they sat stopped at a red light, his gentle gaze laid on her.

“What if I said I had a flower, would that change anything?”

“Maybe,” She was playing into his teasing tone.

“Only maybe?” Bob tilted his head, it seemed like the stop light was going to be red forever at this point.

“Yup,” She gave him a very wide grin, she was amused by him wanting to mess with him, wanting to reach forward and snatch the silver-rimmed glasses off that charming face of his.

“Well, a Floyd doesn’t never come not prepared.” He turned his gaze back to the road finally, she felt her hair standing on edge when he looked at her like that. It was nothing like the flower shop, nothing like their previous banter, it felt almost too real that it seemed fake to her small thoughts.

“So, there is a flower?”

“I guess we’ll find out won’t we?”

“I guess we will when we get to wherever you’ve kidnapped me to,” She laughed, watching the buildings fade away from one of the side mirrors of his ride.

“Kidnapped?” He acted stunned, shocked that she would think so low of him. “I’m never going to look at you again,” He spoke her name with sarcasm, he couldn’t stop himself from snickering.

“I’ll see myself to the pavement then,” She jokingly, reached forward and fiddled with the locked handle, “See, this is why we have child safety laws.” Floyd said with a smile.

“I guess so, I don’t feel very safe.”

“You will eventually..” He leaned forward, trees were surrounding his brightly colored car. She leaned forward as well, seeing light in the distance, it was growing dark, the sun was setting and the sky was a warm violet purple and only getting darker with each minute.

Before she could mutter another word out of her mouth she was met with trees lined with fairy lights. She sat herself back taking in a sharp breath hoping it would somehow break one of her lungs. She knew Floyd did something, something really cute, didn’t he?

He stopped the car, she took a moment to process what was around them. The fairy lights led down to a meadow, a simple clearing between the pine trees, one that someone would have to search for to even find in such a dense forest.

In the middle sat a small blanket, it seemed like it had only been set up in a day. On this day the snow had melted away, the sun had started to show, warmth had finally brought its way to the valleys of Lemoore. She noticed the small basket with a bottle of wine and small matching glasses from afar. She saw Floyd flip the car into park and she almost threw herself out of the car.

“Floyd..”

It was the only word that left her lips, she was in shock. It was truly a beautiful spot. He knew something special. Something he only shared with her.

She slowly made her way to the middle, she could see the twists of the fairy lights, the fresh footsteps from Floyd earlier that morning. His hard work surely paid off ten fold, he was trailing behind her to see her full reaction. He called her name and was met with a slightly turned Y/N, her eyes watering.

She had noticed the flowers.

Aside from the glasses and the wine, in that basket curled up in a neat flower crown for her to wear with her floral patterned dress. They were all the flowers they had ever spoken about. Eight flowers, he remembered all of them.

‘Of course, he did.’

“Too much?” He questioned, worried about her and only her.

She shook her head with a small sniffle trailing behind, “Sometimes.. perfection deserves a few tears.” She let out what seemed to be a sigh of relief, “What else are you going to squeeze my heart with, Bob?”

“Well, I was thinking about putting the flower crown on your head as the first step..” He had kept his distance especially since she was on the verge of crying a waterfall.

“That’s a great step,” Her voice faltered, she didn’t regret a thing about Floyd. She didn’t want to ever take back what she had gained.

What she had gained

Was Love.

She had never felt this feeling in a million years, it was like thousands of prickly fingers had hit her heart. She took in a sharp inhale trying to clear the tears from her rosy cheeks before she could. Floyd had already been there, his fingers already brushing her cheeks and wiping away the salty tears.

He had the brightest smile on his face, “I thought it would be quite shocking, but never in a million years did I think you would cry..” He was being humble, he wasn’t judging her. He was comforting her in the best way he could

She didn’t have any more words to share, she just thought of the song that had sung on in the car.

I think I superlike you

#top gun #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #tgm #kloofwriting #robert bob floyd x you #third person moment #I TRIED A DIFFERENT WRITING STYLE BECAUSE GRAH #AND IT TURNED OUT AMAZING

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pagerunner-j · 1 year

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I know I'm late to the party here, but I picked up Jedi: Fallen Order when it was free on PS+, and have been spending some of my sleepless hours over the last several days playing through it. I'm not done yet, but I'm getting close. A few thoughts about it, in no particular order.

(spoilers, probably, but they're mild.)

Cal, I'm very sorry I was disinterested from early impressions and thought you were kind of bland. You are, in fact, a good, good egg and I'm glad to have you.

Force-based psychometry should have been a thing a whole lot sooner. It's also probably the most elegant choice they could have made for in-game lore drops. Thumbs up.

BD-1: best droid.

Whoever designed BD's holomaps, however, needs to be dragged out back and given a...stern talking-to.

On that note: oh dear god does this game need fast travel. Please. I am begging with all my heart.

I mean, Merrin can apparently teleport wherever the hell she wants, so can't she teach us or something? You can come up with a narrative excuse here, guys. I PROMISE YOU CAN.

Side note: I never did watch the Clone Wars series, and God knows there's too much ancillary Star Wars media to keep track of everything unless you make it your full-time job, so this is my first encounter with the Nightsisters.

They are entirely my jam.

Neeeed mooooore.

Overall thoughts: I appreciate what they're going for with the combat in this game; I'm not very good at it, although I'm getting better; I'd probably get better much faster if I were less impatient on account of not wanting to retrace my steps all the time if I screw up, because I reiterate: OMG THESE MAPS.

Upside? Story difficulty exists. Thaaaaaank yooooooou.

Related: There are some combat achievements I haven't dinged yet and am planning to try in the post-game, and I'll probably change the difficulty back at some point while I'm at it, now that I've got the maps fully cleared and at least kind of know where I'm going? Mostly.

Having found every chest (thank you to whoever wrote the guide at True Achievements; you rock) and thereby discovered pretty much every poncho variant known to mankind -- except for the clear plastic kind they give you at theme parks so you can keep dry in the rain and/or at messy stage shows, and now I wish they'd tossed in one of those for kicks -- I would like to encourage the devs, if they have the time between now and April, to put a few different kinds of collectibles on the map next time. Just one or two. For me.

(Oh, ponchos. The '70s were a weird damn time, okay.)

Elemental Nature II + Magus: pretty pretty lightsaber combo.

I was also super torn about color choice, but I went with cyan and really have no regrets. My personal headcanon for it: you find your crystal in a cave of ice, you might as well stick with the color palette.

Above all, though, the main reason I started writing this list was the scene I just watched, where we got to a pivotal dramatic moment and Cal got properly knighted, with a lightsaber and all, and my jaw fucking dropped, because it's been decades now of Star Wars and all these movies and shows and games and books and shit and -- again, with the caveat here that I absolutely haven't seen everything, but still -- that was the first time I'd seen that happen.

and seriously

HOW WAS THAT THE FIRST TIME I'VE SEEN THAT HAPPEN

all the points to the devs of this game for making the obvious choice that somehow wasn't obvious at all.

(P.S. If you give me a bogling pet for my ship, LET ME PLAY WITH IT. Glimpsing it in the vents now and then is not enough. I pout. Still amused that Greez A: has noticed signs of its presence, if not its actual presence and B: is perplexed by it, though.)

#star wars #jedi fallen order

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nezuscribe · 3 years

Text

their reaction to you dying in their arms (jjk men)

jjk masterlist

genre: angst, headcanons

warnings: death, blood, bits of violence

---

GOJO SATORU

"Y/n?"

His voice is so quiet, so unsure

"Hey there darlin'," He gently drops down to your discarded frame, not caring that his hands were dyed red and that his fingernails were caked with blood

"I'm here," He whispers, "It's okay, I'm here," His eyes rake over your body, his voice caught in his throat as his lips wobble, trying to contain himself as you stared upwards lifelessly

"Oh," He muttered, picking you up, your limp body moving with his movements, "Oh," He'll say over and over again as he checks for your pulse, a flutter of your eyelids, anything to show that you're alive

"No," He squeezes your cold hand, once, twice, three times, something you two made to be your signal of love, "No, no, no,"

He waits so patiently for that small squeeze back, that small sign that he would kill to have once more

"Y/n, darlin'," He chokes out, his voice limited by his lungs closing up, "I'm here. You fought so well, yeah? You did so well," He kisses your bloody hand, pressing the back of it to his watery lips

"I'm so proud of ya darlin'," His tears make the crimson color staining the two of you a watery and unlikable red

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to help, Y/n, but I'm here now," He kisses your other hand, squeezing it again in hopes you might respond to this one

He wants to say more, to apologize, to tell you how much he loves you, to tell you of the future he planned, but Gojo couldn't

So he pressed his forehead to yours, one final farewell until he'd have to leave you for the medics to the find

---

TOJI ZEN'IN

"Hey," He calls over his shoulder, draping his muddied coat over the door frame, not looking at your figure on the bed as he shrugged off the rest of his clothing

"Do you wanna check out that new ramen place down the street tomorrow?" He asks as he goes into the bathroom, scrubbing his face clean of any grim from the day

"You already asleep?" He calls out, but this time a bit softer in case you actually were sleeping

He chuckled softly to himself when he got no response, drying his hands out on the towel, walking out as he went towards the master bed

But he stopped just a few feet short of it, his heart lurching into his throat at the sight of blood

His eyes snapped up to the bed sheets only to see your side drowning in the color

He fumbled over his feet, running to your side, throwing the blanket off only to see a knife sticking out from your heart, the dagger lining with cursed energy

Your eyes were starring up, still open, still the same shade he remembered them being, however a little bit duller

"Shit, shit, shit, fuck!" He says over and over again, checking for a pulse, trying to see if he can do anything to help

But he knew that with the amount of blood loss, with the knife sticking out from your heart, there was no way to save you

He couldn't guess who must have done, but he narrowed it down to one of the many people who wanted either him or someone he cared about dead

"Y/n?" Toji didn't trust himself to say your name, wiping off some blood from your cheek, trying to rid your beautiful face of the ghastly thing

"I'm sorry," He dropped to his knees, encasing your small hand around his two large ones, bringing your closed fist to his lips as he gingerly kissed them, not knowing what else to do

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner,"

"I'm sorry to have failed you, baby. I don't know..." And the words died down as everything began to register in his head, his words choking up into unintelligible blabber

"I'm so sorry, Y/n,"

"But you're going to have to wait for a little longer for me, okay?"

---

NAOYA ZEN'IN

"The jasmine smell extraordinary this year, don't you think?" You mused and watched as your husband grunted, looking at the blooming flowers, faking boredom

Walking alone with him was a rare occurrence, and rarely were you too able to get some time to spend freely by yourselves, so a stroll in the estate garden was something you didn't take for granted

And despite his groans and moans about not wanting to come, the way he held your hand so tightly in his told you otherwise

"Are you leaving again tomorrow?" You ask him, looking up to match his stare, smiling softly as he rubbed his thumb off the back of your hand

"Only for a couple of days. Nothing that won't take too long," He answered back, not trying to sound reassuring, but he squeezed your hand and you knew he was trying his best

"Alright, well if you need any-"

He waited for you to finish your sentence but he looked back down, eyes widening as he stared at your crumpled form on the ground

There was a large arrow splitting through your stomach, its head dripping red and blue

He touched it, smelling it to know that something was lacing it, surely to kill you quicker

He looked back up at the hill from where the arrow had come from, and he saw a blurredshadow running away

He yelled for the guards to go after the masked person, but he could only do so much as he raced your body towards the infirmary

The healers ushered him out, but he pushed them forward, saying that there was no way in the living hell that he was going to leave you now

He watched as they struggled to revive you, no amount of reverse curse energy bringing you back

They all hung their heads low when they told him the news, and as they quietly left he walked slow paces towards your bed, the events still not settling in his brain

He struggled to come up with any words, anything to summarize how he felt, but Naoya couldn't

He couldn't say anything meaningful or loving enough that would honor your

So he just continued to hold your hand, just like how he had been, just like how he knew how to do

And he let himself cry silently as he felt your fingers grow colder against his

---

SUKUNA RYOMEN

"Y/n? Are you there?" He'll call out, his katana draped over his shoulders as he made way through the field of bodies

"Come on now, don't play coy with me," he'd tease, his eyebrows raising slightly as he saw the work you had done on the sorcerers, a sense of proudness growing in him

"Did one of them finally do it then? Too tired to stand, are ya'?" Sukuna would joke, rubbing the fly that whizzed past his head away in annoyance

He'd walk a bit more, keeping his lookout for you, careful not to step on anyone as he wove through the maze of the dead

"Dear, I'm tired, let's go home," He'd say after a while, some weariness growing on him after countless days and nights of fighting with no sleep

"Y/n?" Sukuna calls out again, but no when he's faced with no response, a strange feeling of worry washed over him

"Y/n, are you here?" He's yelling now, dropping the sword on the ground, picking up his pace as he whips his head around, looking for your familiar figure

But only when he looks down does he find what he's looking for

There, lying ever so gracefully on a patch of grass in you, your hand weakly clutching your wounded side, your eyes closed in an almost dreamlike state

"Y/n?" He'd drop down to his knees, pulling you into hi slap as he tries to do what he can to salvage you

"Y/n, fuck, shit," He's cursing as he's failing to bring you back, his cursed magic doing a pitiful amount of work to help you

"Y/n?"

Had you been alive you almost would have laughed at the fear in his voice

Sukuna? The king of curses? Brought down to his knees by a mortal girl?

But he would fall to his knees countless times again, surrender himself over to those wretched sorcerers if it meant bringing you back

But as Sukuna held you tight to his chest, running his hands shakily through your hair as he apologized over and over again,

He knew that wishing for the dead could only do so much, let alone bring you back alive

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secrettangel · 3 years

Note

Hihihihihi!

Can I please have a Draco x Female!Reader make out and dry humping session where both of them are switches??

⤷ 𝗜 𝗔𝗠 𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦

𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 ↝ 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗙𝗢𝗬 & 𝗙𝗘𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ↝ 𝗗𝗥𝗬 𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡, 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧

Kissing Draco Malfoy's lips is like being in heaven and hell at the same time, his lips are a soft pinkish color, and most of the time they are cold, anxiously waiting for yours to warm them, a single kiss was enough to wet your lace panties.

Neither could get enough of the other, they were like a damn drug, and every time they touched they came back looking for more and more, some would say they were insatiable or even addicted to each other's touches but they didn't care what they thought.

The common room was empty since it was three in the morning, Draco and Y/n had not noticed how the time had passed and that is why they both continued to devour each other's mouth as if it were their last meal. Licking, biting, sucking came and went from both of them, little moans and grunts came out of their mouths as Y/n moved her hips on her boyfriend's hard cock.

“You're killing me” Draco muttered, placing his hands on her hips to keep moving her faster

“You always make me feel so good dray, you are such a good boy for me” Y/n moaned feeling the friction of her intimacies over her clothes

The first time they did something like that both of them were surprised but in the end, they ended up liking it a lot and for that reason, they repeated it.

“If you keep moving like this, I'm going to finish sooner than I should” Draco growled as Y/n let her head fall back feeling her orgasm approach

“God dray, I love this” she moaned as Draco lifted his hips to cause more friction and more pleasure for both of them

“Such a perfect doll” he whispered bringing his mouth to her neck, starting to leave marks to show others that Y/n was only his

Y/n's hands moved from her boyfriend's shoulders to his chest, holding onto him while Draco's hands went down to her butt, slapping each cheek.

“Babe, I'm coming!” Y/n warned as Draco shook his head in “no”

“Hold it” he ordered bringing his hand to her neck giving it a squeeze

“But dra-”

“Don't be a brat and hold it” Draco spoke managing to silence her

The movements continued and while the platinum blonde felt his orgasm approaching Y/n felt that she could not take it anymore, she really tried but she did not succeed, a moan came out of her mouth as her orgasm devastated her, wetting her panties and incidentally her boyfriend's black pants.

Draco wanted to punish her for what she had done but he was completely lost when he felt how he cum in his own pants amplifying the stain even more.

“I'm sorry” she whispered leaving little kisses on his swollen lips

“It's okay” he assured her, joining his forehead with hers, “we'll fix it later, doll”

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so-writing · 3 years

Text

I Know I'm Not the Only One - Matthew Tkachuk (2)

part one

You say I'm crazy 'Cause you don't think I know what you've done But when you call me baby I know I'm not the only one

The right time to finally confront Matthew’s infidelity wasn’t coming easily. You weren’t sure if he realized you were onto him or if he was just being extra affectionate and into you, but something had shifted and Matt was spending every free minute of his time with you.

He had planned a lavish dinner at the very same restaurant he failed to show up at several weeks ago on your anniversary.

“I’m sorry baby,” he’d said, “I swear I’m going to make it up to you.”

Recreating the evening that originally left you so incredibly sad and broken was apparently the way he planned to do that. You weren’t sure if it was you or Matthew who was the bigger clown, because as much as you hated reliving that night, you found yourself getting dressed and slipping into that same pair of painful heels anyway.

The restaurant was just as beautiful as the first time you were there, and as luck would have it, the same girl that had looked at you with extreme pity the first time around was working.

“Good evening,” if she recognized you she didn’t let it show, “can I start you with something to drink? Sparkling water? Wine?”

Matthew ordered a bottle of his favorite, one you barely tolerated, but you went with it and tried not to pucker your lips at how dry and disgusting it was. He was trying, you’d give him that.

“I’ve been thinking,” he trailed off and pulled one of your hands into both of his own, “I know I’ve been distant and I’ve been difficult lately. Work has been crazy, especially with the whole captain thing up in the air, but I’m so happy you’ve stayed with me. You’ve stayed baby, when you could’ve easily left and I don’t take that lightly.”

He slid his chair out from the table while reaching into his back pocket and if you weren’t so fucking devastated he’d been cheating for an unknown amount of time, you’d be over the moon for what you knew was about to happen.

“I love you, I’ve loved you for years, make me the happiest man in the world,” Matthew dropped to one knee and opened the ring box to reveal the most beautiful piece of jewelry you’d ever seen, “marry me?”

There was no fucking way this was happening. Cheating, lying ass Matthew Tkachuk was really dropping to one knee and asking you to marry him.

The fucking audacity.

It didn’t take long for you to come out of your head and make eye contact with the man down on one knee in front of you. This moment was like a crossroads for you. You could say no and the relationship would most likely end sooner as apposed to later, or you could say yes.

Yes meant agreeing to marry a cheater, but yes also meant making exposing his bullshit that much more satisfying.

“Of course, Matty,” you got good at faking tears during your dramatic high school years, “oh my god, of course, baby!”

The next few months were a whirlwind of congratulations and hasty plans because you knew damn well you weren’t going to marry Matthew Tkachuk. You were great at pretending like you were, though.

“I have a late skate, so I won’t be home for dinner.”

“Yeah? Did that just start? You haven’t had a late skate in months.”

“Yep,” you could tell he was trying not to show his irritation, “it’s a new thing, babe.”

Fuck. This was it. Time to call an asshole out for what he really was.

“You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with that blonde girl?”

The color drained from Matt’s face but he was quick to respond, “baby, what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the girl you’ve been fucking for months, the girl who went to your games in my place because you claimed I was a distraction. Fuck, Matt, you’re not even smart enough to take a fucking shower before you come back to me. We don’t wear the same perfume, you fucking idiot. When should I give this ring back to you? Because I know I’m never going to marry your cheating, lying, pathetic ass.”

Matthew Tkachuk looked, in that moment, like he wanted to fucking die. He had nothing to say and you were completely fine with that as you removed the pretty rock from your finger and placed it in front of him.

“Stop cheating, women that choose to be with you deserve better.”

#Matthew Tkachuk #mtkachuk #matt tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #Calgary Flames imagine #nhl imagine

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hanibalistic · 3 years

Text

FOR MY LOVE, SINCERELY, FOR YOU. | BANG CHAN, LEE MINHO, SEO CHANGBIN, HWANG HYUNJIN.

genre | fluff, little angst, romance undertone, platonic relationship, royalty au

synopsis | you are a royal baker doubling as a love-letter mentor for the prince who is trying to court the neighbour princess, while his princely cousin slowly falls in love with you.

word count | 32k+

warning | violence (one scene), this is an unfinished piece so if you get attached then beware of unanswered plotline (this is a joke but just in case)

tag | @fluffyskzclub

note | this was an unfinished piece abandoned in 2020, a rather big project i had. i am posting it here because i am unlikely to finish it anytime sooner (for one, i find it hard to replicate the writing style i utilized for this piece), but it felt like an injustice to let this piece dust away alone.

The smell of cream puffs wafted before your sensitive nose. You took a few sniffs, letting the luscious smell of sugar linger, then you smiled in satisfaction at the plate of dessert displayed before you on the kitchen table.

It was a big day for your dessert baking career. You were about to grant a full round table of royalty your newest recipe for the first time after so long of not being allowed to follow your own baking recipe in the palace kitchen.

After being appointed as a new palace baker amongst many other older cooks, with the promise that your father would receive top quality medical treatment back in your hometown, all you have baked were measly desserts made by following the head chef's recipe.

It all started with those little bake days you did at your mother’s flower shop, where you would prepare limited tray of one random dessert, a tasty little extra for the frequent customers and those who spend over a certain amount of money at the shop. Your mother didn’t like it the first time you did it, but considering how much your desserts have always helped boost the shop’s sales, she allowed you to hold these bake days occasionally.

You had baked your signature lemon tarts one morning, the crusty layer of bread circling around the gleaming, lemon filling, paired with a small tent of whip cream and a raspberry on top. It caught the king’s attention.

You were unsure how that had happened but just about two days after the bake day, the court messenger dropped by and asked you to attend a meeting with the king, and the king had asked you to enter the palace kitchen so the royal family could enjoy your dessert every day.

However, unfortunately for the royal family, none of them have ever tasted your dessert before because of how strict the head chefs were about you utilizing your own cook book. No matter how many times you have attempted to sneak your own spin in those atrociously boring, mediocre steps of his, someone was always there to call you out on your ‘wrongdoings.’

It was beyond infuriating to know that the palace kitchen has more ingredients and more baking utensils than anywhere else in the kingdom, yet somehow, you were not allowed to bake according to your own cookbook because apparently, you were too young and too inexperienced to have your own desserts be presented to royalty.

Mind them old folks in the kitchen, but the sole reason why you were here, and the sole reason why the king was willing to bargain for your cooperation, was because he really, really, really loved the lemon tarts you baked for your mother’s flower shop.

You wish you could tell the head chefs about it, but there was no way for you not to come off as conceited, and you doubted the adults would listen a mere teenager like you, so you stayed silent.

But then the Lord shone through the clouds and gave you this opportunity to shine tonight! You have concocted a plan soon after you were told that you and another cook—Changbin, you remembered—would be in charge of making the dessert for this grand event.

The neighbor royal families would be visiting for dinner so they could discuss the courtship of one of the princesses, meaning you would’t just be making dessert for one royal family but several others as well! And oh lord, the audacity of the pastry chef when he told you to follow the strawberry cake recipe weeks before the actual day, you really had to laugh.

There was nothing wrong with a plain strawberry cake. Simplicity can be best at times, but not with the recipe he gave you, never. Besides, you have already got another idea in mind about what dessert you could make: your newest recipe, crafted after you decided to take a bite of the dry rose petals in the royal garden—rosewater cream puffs!

Your rosewater cream puffs; made with soft and crispy bread baked with delight and care, pumped full of rich and fluffy cream fillings you crafted with sun-drowned water, ones you mixed together with the rose petals you picked from the forest nearby.

Now, of course, you would have never been able to bake your own dessert with the entire kitchen staff watching your back almost every step of the way. However, since they have appointed another chef with you this time so they could focus on their own dishes instead of worrying about you pulling weird stunts, you needn’t be as alert as you used to.

Besides, the angels were totally on your side when they have appointed Changbin out of every other chef in the kitchen. He may seem intimidating but, believe it or not, he was actually quite the gentleman.

At least, from what you have experienced, was that he doesn’t bark at children like the others have done with you. Granted, you haven’t been the most obedient one, but even then, Changbin had been extremely patient with your rebellious retorts and dreamy rambles. And when you told him how you’ve got it all handled, he believed you and went ahead to help out the old gardening lady with the crops and livestock.

"Now, lastly," you said as you grabbed the clean sifter next to you. You hung it on the edge of the table before you pulled at the corner of baking paper. You tugged it up and carefully poured the content into the sifter. “Some powered sugar and we are good to go!”

You would be serving eighteen cream puffs exactly for the eighteen royalties eating above you in the dining room, but aside from that, you have also made extras in anticipation of them asking for more. It was a habit—people have always asked for more of your desserts, they can never just have one piece.

However, if it turned out that your rosewater cream puffs were not of their liking, which could be possible due to this being an experimental recipe, then you would at least have extras left for when you need to make some changes later. Would you have hoped to ask for some constructive criticisms? Yes, but you doubted you’d be off the hook long enough to ask the royalties for it.

You were moving onto your fifth cream puff when the door to the baking room creaked open. Your arms froze for a second in alert, wondering who could possibly be behind you. Could it be the head chefs asking you for the progress? Could it be the maid already asking for the tray of dessert to be delivered?

Either way, they end in your eventual demise, because not only were you not finished yet, you didn’t make the strawberry cake the pastry chef asked you to.

“Hey, [Name], how’s the cake going?” Changbin asked, taking off his gloves and hanging them on the handle bar nailed behind the wooden door.

You breathed out a sigh of relief at his voice, your eyes closing and your heart slowing down to a resonable pace. Then you glanced down at the tray of cream puff before you, your brows furrowing with a curse after you did so. The sudden pause caused a tad of the powered sugar to go slightly off track; it would likely be unnoticeable to the royalties, but to you it was one hell of a problem.

Your lack of response worried Changbin. He raised a brow at you as he tied the apron around his waist, his fingers fumbling clumsily with tying the ribbon behind his back. Shifting his gaze to the wooden table, his brows gradually furrowed the more he took into account the ingredients gathered on top.

Milk, eggs, butter, sugar, flour. The normal things. Whisks, wooden bowls, spatulas, a… a sift? Dry rose petals, a bowl of pink-colored water, macaroon sheet template—oh no.

“[Name], please tell me you made the strawberry cake like you were asked to–“ Changbin paused before the table, his eyes casting down at the little cream puffs with pastel pink fillings oozing out of the crusty bread tops, and he immediately gasped in horror. “Oh my god, you didn’t! You–kid, I swear! Chef Park is going to be furious about this!”

“I know,” you replied without much care, making your way to your sixth cream puffs carefully with the powered sugar in your hands. “Which is why I plan to hide it from him.”

“That isn’t the point, [Name],” Changbin exclaimed with curled fists. He stood awkwardly beside you, watching as you finished up with the tray with a content smile before turning to look at him. Gosh, he felt like he was talking to a brick wall; anyone who has tried to convince you to do as the head chefs say always feels like they are talking to a brick wall.

“What is the point?” You asked, dusting your hands off and wiping them on your apron without breaking eye contact with him. Then your attention left him so you could transfer the cream puffs to a steel plate.

“These are going into the king’s mouth, you know that right?” He said. “Not just our king, but other kingdoms’ as well. The only reason why you are instructed to use the house recipe is because–“

“Because none of you trust my ability to bake something good on my own,” you cut him off with a disappointed glare, one that made Changbin feel a sudden tumble of his heart. “Everyone here always think I’m going to mess up, that I am going to accidentally poison the king–“

“Hey, hey, hey!” Changbin raised his index finger in the air, his eyes were wide in alert as soon as you spilled those dangerous words. He looked around the baking room carefully before turning back to you with wide eyes. “I taught you before, none of those sayings inside the palace! You don’t want to get misunderstood and thrown in the dungeon, do you?”

“No,” you said, frowning as you turned to him then. “But my point still stands. None of you trust me to be a good baker and I really don’t like that.”

Changbin heaved a sigh. He hadn’t really been paying attention to the newbies that joined the kitchen staff, he had been too busy taking care of the royal farm that he barely went into the kitchen unless it was his shift to cook dinner. Heck, he didn’t even know you existed until he found you by the farm entrance with chef Park standing angrily next to you.

He could still remember that day. You had said something insulting to chef Park and he decided to take you out of the kitchen as punishment. You ended up having to take care of the farm with him for a full week, and oh, heavens, were you one grumpy kid.

But you did change for the better after he took you to the orchard for some fruit picking, you were smelling and knocking the fruits like you knew what you were doing. And perhaps you did know what you were doing, he just never stopped to see if you did.

“I’m sure nobody thinks that. I know I don’t think that,” he said after a moment of silence. “We just don’t want you to mess up in here. You’re making food, [Name]. If any of them so much is get a stomachache then you’re done for.”

You arched your brows faintly in agreement. You hadn’t really considered that. Being a mere kitchen staff in the palace, and not an important one too, makes you very susceptible to the king’s irresponsible anger and his absolute power. You could die by the royalty’s hand with just a snap without ever getting a chance to fight for yourself.

But it wasn’t like you were baking poison! The maids have told you all you needed to know about this damn family’s tastebuds and allergies as soon as you arrived, and you have got them all memorized already. You wouldn’t make such a trivial mistake!

“Excuse me! I’m here to collect the cake!”

Changbin met your eyes briefly. You could see the panic raising in those browns when you smiled mischievously at him. Then, before he could stop you, you turned to the table and grabbed a hold of the steel, dome plate cover. You cupped it over the cream puffs before holding it up carefully and approaching the maid standing by the door.

When she gave you a weird look, her judgemental gaze eyeing the plate, you gave her a playful wink and smiled. “The appearance is a surprise. Let’s spice up the dinner a little for the royals, huh?”

You took a side-step when you felt Changbin approaching. His chest bumped against your head as you perfectly blocked his path, and you could feel the heavy sigh he let out as he held up his arms in hopes to still stop the maid from leaving the baking room. You rolled your eyes then, annoyed at his stubbornness.

“Look, Changbin,” you said as you turned around, “There is no strawberry cake here. And even though you don’t specialize in dessert, I’m sure you know you can’t make a good one under ten minutes, so why not just let the cream puffs go?”

He glanced down at you, his eyes ablaze with both exasperation and horror. Oh, whatever he should do now? If the pastry chef found out he didn’t monitor you after being told to, and you actually broke out of the house recipe and made something on your own for the dinner, both of you would surely be in big trouble! Not to mention he had no idea if the cream puffs were even edible at all!

Sure, they smelt nice when he entered the room. The aroma of the roses strong and eloquent, plus the light sprinkle of sugary scent mixing together with it just made it a whole lot better. But just because it smelt nice does not mean it would taste the same.

“We’re not gonna get into trouble,” you muttered after seeing his expression, the guilty finally hitting you as you watched Changbin pinch the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh. “Well… maybe not with the royal family, but I think chef Park might get a little mad.”

“You don’t say?” He rolled his eyes and let his arm drop to his side. Glancing away from you, he looked towards the table and widened his eyes at the extra cream puffs sitting on top of a wooden tray. A thought popped in his head and he held out his hand, his palm opened. “Let me try one.”

“Wh–what?” You looked at him, his words not processing through.

“I said let me try one,” he repeated, his hand moving in a beckoning motion urgently. “You already sent the cream puffs up, there is no point in me stopping the maid now, so might as well see if we’re only getting an earful or if we’re going to get a death sentence.”

“They’re not going to die eating my desserts,” you retorted with a glare, not liking the way he phrased his thoughts.

Changbin heaved another sigh as he glanced away. You kept missing the point, it seemed; the problem didn’t lie in your dessert being good or bad, it was the fact that he didn’t know and he needed to try. But coming from somebody who kept having their skills undermined by others, it would make sense for that to be your initial response.

“Can I please have one of your cream puffs, [Name]?” He asked again, more politely this time.

You stared at him for a while longer, your lips pursing as the guilt that previously surfaced in your chest magnified with the defeated look on his face.

Changbin had always looked so tired. His eyes are often sharp, but never without a tinge of unexplained wistfulness behind them that made them softer to look at. His arms are strong and scarred; some of the stories he told you about and some he kept hidden with a vague smile. His hands are rough and calloused from all the years of picking vegetables and rubbing metals, but they don’t lack tenderness when he pats your head at the end of the day.

He took care of you the most out of anybody else in the palace, albeit only meeting you a couple of weeks after you’ve suffered the wrath of the head chefs. And you have genuinely taken a liking to him because he has treated you well, therefore when times come when you’d realize you hadn’t exactly returned the favor to him, you would always feel bad.

“Okay.” You gave him a curt nod before turning around to the table. You grabbed a small wooden plate from the corner and set it before you. Taking one of the extra creme puffs, you placed it on the plate before taking the sifter and lightly patting the powered sugar on top.

You couldn’t stop it, though. You couldn’t stop being a brat in front of him, stubborn and rebellious, because you knew Changbin wouldn’t actually get mad at you for anything. And he just kept taking it, all your spontaneous antics and your informal retorts.

He just takes them, with a lot of patience and understanding, as a parent would their child.

The burning in your chest was overwhelming. Ahh, you haven’t been able to act bratty in front of your dad in a long while now. Ever since he has fallen ill, you’ve only tried your best to take care of him. No more tantrums could be thrown and no more active jokes you could play on him anymore because of his weak heart.

There wasn’t anything terrible about that, for sure. You were more than happy to help nurse your father, but sometimes your childish mind just wanted to be spoiled by a father figure. Pretty sure everybody does once in a while.

You slammed the sifter on the table, startling Changbin. Forcing a smile onto your face, you handed him the plate carefully. “Here, try it and tell me if you like it!” You said quickly, holding down the sudden wave of tears that was threatening the flow out. “Remember be honest!”

“When have I not been honest with you?” Changbin flipped your forehead with a frown just before he was about to take a giant bite of the cream puff.

As you rubbed the spot with your hand and reached over to give his arm a harsh slap, he stumbled back with a faint laugh before grabbing ahold of the cream puff again. He held it before his mouth, the sweet smell of roses attacking his nose immediately, prompting him to take a bite of it. When he finally did, the powered sugar and the cream filling stained on his lips, his eyes widened in shock.

The cream filling was rich in its rosy taste, but it wasn’t so sweet that it would make your teeth sick. The sugar also managed to blend in very well with the naked taste of the crusty bread instead of overshadowing it, the two creating a well-crafted symphony on top of his tongue.

“Oh, heavens–“ he paused to lick the cream off his lips, his brows furrowed as a moan of satisfaction left his lips while the cream melted instantly in his mouth. He glanced up at you then, his eyes simmering with surprise and, visibly, proudness. “Kid, did you make this by yourself?”

A glimmer of hope punched through your lungs at his response and you nodded, your hands curling into each other before your chest. “Yeah, I made those,” you said. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it–please, I love it!” He exclaimed, sucking off the remaining cream on his fingers. “This is delicious, wow. Much, much better than a plain strawberry cake, I reckon.”

“I knew it!” You clapped your hands together in excitement, thrilled to see that Changbin has taken a liking to your baking. “Oh, I’m glad you liked it.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole table upstairs likes it too,” he commented with a short laugh as he set the wooden plate down on the table. He rubbed his hands on his pants, not bothering to grab a towel hung all the way at the back of the baking room. Looking at you, he tiled his head and asked, “Where did you learn to make that?”

“By myself!” You replied triumphantly. “It is years and years of experimenting with different ingredients! I did try a few different approaches with these rosewater cream, though. It is so easy for the filling to get too sweet if I so much as ground the petals the wrong way.”

Changbin leaned against the edge of the table, watching as you started to ramble on and on about your experience with creating this recipe. A proudness was born within his chest, spreading through his body with a rush as he watched you discuss what you had been trying to tell others was your ultimate passion.

It was a shame that nobody ever listened simply because you were too young, perhaps things would change after tonight.

“Hey, [Name],” he cut you off with a soft call, his hand reaching out for your head and giving you a few light pats. “Good job on the cream puffs.”

Your eyes widened a little, your voice falling mute at the tip of your tongue as you tried to think of something to say. You haven’t gotten a compliment on your baking in a while, not to mention this came a little too sudden for you to comprehend it fully. You just knew you were happy to hear it, especially from Changbin as well.

Before you could regain your voice and show him some gratitude, the door to the baking room burst open. You turned to look as Changbin spun around to look behind him. You grimaced at the newcomer, stepping back slightly at the bulging vein present on his forehead.

Oh, chef Park was definitely angry about the dessert not being what he asked for. Judging by the look on his vein, and also that angry vein on his forehead, you were going to be in big trouble.

“What the hell were you thinking, [Name]?” He shoved past Changbin without giving him another glance, strutting straight towards you with an accusing finger. “You little brat, you can’t do one thing right, can you? I gave you a recipe, I told you to follow it, and you go ahead and serve… cream puffs? You serve them cream puffs?”

You stepped back when he got too close, your brows furrowing in discomfort as your heart raced in fear. As much as you hated to admit, chef Park’s authority scared you a little because of how much of a threat he could be. He could make your time in the palace a living hell, and there is no guarantee that you’d ever get out of here. You could be stuck with him until the day he dies!

“What’s wrong with cream puffs?” You asked daringly despite being afraid. It seemed that your annoyance was overriding fright in your chest.

“There is nothing wrong with cream puffs, what is wrong is that I don’t know how you made them,” he pointed out. “God, who knows what kind of atrocity you made? You better be the one to take the blame because I am not having my career be destroyed by a fucking seventeen-year-old!”

You scoffed out a laugh, your eyes rolling to the side condescendingly before you turned back to look at him. “You’re one to talk, chef Park,” you retorted, curling your hands at your side. “Serving a strawberry cake is too plain for this occasion. Not to mention your recipe is boring–“

You gasped when you felt a hand swipe across your cheek. Your hand instinctively went up to cover the spot where you got slapped, your eyes wide with shocked tears as you turned back to look at the man in front of you. He didn’t seem fazed, he seemed rather neutral about it, like he had planned to do that all along, and it made you want to wipe that shit-eating smirk off his face.

“Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Changbin stormed over to your side before you could properly react, a hand grabbing on the chef’s shoulder and shoving him backward. “[Name]’s just a kid, can’t you act a little civil with them?”

“Jesus, Changbin, don’t be so soft,” chef Park said, rolling his eyes. “They’re old enough to know they shouldn’t disrespect elders.”

“And you’re old enough to know that violence doesn’t solve anything,” Changbin pressed on, his voice almost coming out as a growl as he held himself back from punching the man right in the jaw. “With all due respect, chef, but you need to grow the hell up.”

The man relaxed a little then, his eyes squinting as he stared at Changbin in contemplation. Your heart jumped at his calculative gaze, now more scared for him than you were scared for yourself. Changbin didn’t have to do that, he should have just stayed quiet at the back and let you take all of it alone. Now you’ve got him mixed in the mess you made too.

“Changbin, need I remind you my position is a head above yours?” Chef Park said, his tone more obnoxious and patronizing than anything you have ever heard. Not even the king spoke to you like this when he was bargaining for you to stay as a baker in the palace, how was it his turn to speak like that?

Changbin glared at him, his tongue tied and his head unsure of what he could say. He knew if he says anything more, he would be done. His stay in the palace would most likely be over with just a single report from the chef, and all the years of him earning his trust would go to waste.

Perhaps he should have thought through this twice before he acted out, but seeing you get slapped across the face so unreasonably had stirred a fire within him. He was angry, genuinely angry, for the first time in a long time, and he didn’t care what would happen to him. He just knew if that fucker thinks he can lay his hands on you then he’s got anther thing coming at him.

This altercation was, thankfully, interrupted with a timid knock on the door. Chef Park looked behind his shoulders in annoyance before he spun and headed for the door. You watched his back, your lips finally loosening up and quirking down because of how upset you were. And, upon this distraction, Changbin immediately turned around to check up you.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, the back of his hand delicately running down your red cheek.

You nodded as you moved away slightly, your eyes squeezing together in faint irritation.

Reaching up to grab his hand, you held onto his pinky and ring finger before letting your arm fall to your side. Your eyes were squinted when you faced ahead, your lips pursed into a forced smile as you said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Changbin looked at you, his eyes shifting across your features and landing on your red cheek. Looking at it made him sad, and the story behind made his anger fume, but even then he listened to you. With a small nod of agreement, he looked away from you and at the opened door where chef Park stood talking to a maid.

He acted strangely, you found out. The second the door was opened, his face dropped and a smile immediately made its way to his face. A fake smile, you could tell, because that man has probably never genuinely smiled once in his life. He was talking lightly, his eyes shifting at the maid and behind her rapidly as if he was seeing a ghost.

After a moment, he finally took a gentle step back and gestured towards you. You shivered—what was it now? Have the guards came to arrest you for poisoning a whole table of royalties? Have you made the worst dessert to ever be created in mankind that the king felt the need to come down to the kitchen himself, just so he could criticize you?

It was none of those, apparently. Waltzing into the room were three people, two boys and one girl.

The girl wore an expensive ball gown dress, the light pink mesh material sewed of blossom petals on top as they flowed over the thick fabric underneath. Her top was off-shoulders, exposing her pretty bone structure adorned by a piece of bright jewel necklace.

If those weren’t indication enough that she was the princess being courted for, then the tiara decorating her pretty little head would be.

Standing behind her was two boys. You knew one of them, he was the prince—your prince, as a matter of fact. Lee Minho; with big, glimmering eyes and a well-defined nose, and with lips that curl into the greatest cherry smile that never failed to woo another’s heart. He was an undeniably gorgeous man, you’d say.

You have only seen him when you were lurking in the shadows with trays and buckets. You didn’t care for him much.

Standing next to him was someone you’ve met once before, as in an actual encounter where a conversation was held. That was Hwang Hyunjin, Minho’s close cousin who always came to visit as if he didn’t have his own extravagant garden to run around in. And whenever he came over to stay, he would usually stay for a whole month before his departure.

You two met under an unforeseen situation. It was exceptionally bright that morning, the sun blazing a heated trail on the flowers in the royal garden. The flying insects all came around to rest among the bushes, hiding away in the flower buds and collecting pollens. It was a sunny morning that day, and Hyunjin decided he could go for a walk alone before the scheduled horse-riding session with Minho.

You were told to collect some fruits in the orchard so the baking team could make the desired dessert for the evening, a step you assumed would be the only one you’d be asked to take part in because you had pissed off chef Park once again.

But, instead of heading straight to the orchard as you were told to, you took a sharp turn outside the back entrance of the kitchen and headed straight for the royal garden with your vine basket. You were trying out a new recipe during that time, the blackberry lavender cake.

It wasn’t anything special, per se, so you were hoping you could add your own spin to it and see if you could make one that could be easily differentiated amongst all the other ones. That was one of the importance of making desserts: always make sure you incorporate your own style in the taste, let people know they’re eating your food.

You had planned to find some fully-bloomed lavender in the garden first, then you would head to the orchard and find yourself some blackberries. After you’ve collected what you needed, you would set out and get whatever the chef asked you to get.

You didn’t even know Hyunjin was in the garden before you heard him yell from faraway. When you approached close enough, you almost burst into laughter at how he was panicking over a butterfly flying around his perimeter. His arms had flailed about the air, not wanting to hurt the butterfly but still wanting to keep it as far away as possible.

It didn’t register to you that he was a prince at first, even with his velvet suit and jewel-filled fingers. All you knew was that he was a stranger yelling at the top of his lungs, in early morning, because he was afraid of a damn butterfly.

Without thinking much, you had approached him from behind and touched him with your hands, steadying his movements as you carefully lured the butterfly over with your finger. It landed peacefully on top, its wings halting to a slow stop. Hyunjin had moved away from by then, and when he finally looked at you with a clearer sight, he immediacy swooned (inside his heart, obviously).

How could he not? A butterfly was sitting on top of your finger, the breeze was blowing gently against your hair, and the sun was shining down your eyes with its satisfying lights—you were completely engulfed by the beauty of nature, the delight of a new morning, and he thought he has never seen anybody more beautiful.

“It is just a butterfly, Your Highness,” you had told him, with a gentle smile that showed a hint of playfulness in them as you set the creature free. You held your vine basket close to your waist and spoke, “There is no need to act with haste.”

With that, you left him both bewildered and bewitched at the heels of your feet. All he could really do was stare at your back as you left, his infatuation a foreign feeling he didn’t understand. He has seen so many princes and princess in royal balls before, all dolled up and styled with glitter, but none of them has ever struck his liking as much as you did.

And you had managed that with such a simple attire under a dirty apron, a head of messy hair, and an unbothered demeanour.

Hyunjin could remember you vividly, even as he stood behind his friends in the small baking room where it was dimmer and confined. He hasn’t really stopped thinking about you after that morning, and he hoped that you remembered him as well, even if he was just the weird boy you met in the garden once.

“Good evening, chefs,” the princess spoke first, taking a small step towards you and Changbin with her silk gloved hands clapped together before her chest.

Almost immediately, despite the bafflement Changbin was feeling, he dipped his head and bowed with a polite greeting. Glancing to the side where you stood, his brows furrowed when he saw that you haven’t moved an inch, and he quickly reached his hand up to press against the back of your head and made you bow with him.

“Get yourself together, Princess Rose is here,” he whispered to you quietly, hoping to god nobody could make out what he was saying.

You hummed faintly, pleasantly surprised that her name matched with the dessert you made. Then, with a reassuring glare, Changbin finally allowed you to stand back up straight by loosening his grip against your head. You dusted your hands off on your apron as you flashed Changbin a faint glare, then you smiled at the three royalties standing before you.

It was a rare sight you dreaded to see, simply because how much of a hassle it could be to meet royalties.

You habitually waited for the princess to speak first.

“I was just upstairs eating a full and delicious meal prepared by the amazing cooks in this kitchen,” she said, giving Changbin a nod of acknowledgement as a slow smile crept up her face,“but, what I am very surprised by was the cream puffs served at the end of dinner! And I just had to come down here personally and ask for the baker behind those cream puffs!”

You stared at her. Well, she said all of those, but she still hasn’t asked you for your name yet. She only said she needed to ask, she hasn’t actually asked yet, therefore you wasn’t sure if you should reveal yourself or wait a little while for her to finally break the question out to you.

Her eyes scanned past Changbin to you, and they brightened. Walking forward, her curls bouncing against her shoulders in the lightness of her steps, she smiled at you and asked, “Did you make those cream puffs?”

“Yes, I did, Your Highness,” you said, her sheer excitement spreading to you and causing you to relax. You gently let your guard down, your shoulders slumping as your hands met each other in front of your tummy.

“Oh! How wonderful!” She beamed at you, “I absolutely loved the cream puffs, were they made with roses?”

“Rose petals, yes!” You replied, almost as enthusiastic as she was now that you were prompted to talk about your dessert. Many people have lent you compliments before, but none has ever stopped to ask you more about them. This was certainly a first. “I ground the petals up and mixed them in with water before adding them to the dry ingredients, it gives the cream filling that rosy taste to it!”

“Wow, that sounds like hard work!” She nodded in approval, her brows raising and her eyes widening to give you a look of affirmation.

You blinked your eyes rapidly. Oh? That was quite an unexpected reaction. Not so much what she said, though. People have told you the same things before; about how difficult it must be to come up with your own baking style, and to actually gather the ingredients so you could start making a dessert.

It was the way she said it. It sounded something more like a validation than a judgement. It wasn’t “oh god, I will never be able to do this,” instead it was more of a “oh, it is so cool that you can do this!”

And it was hard work! You had to ground the petals for a certain amount of time and with a precisely calculated amount of strength. Your arms were already aching a minute into having to hold the wooden bowl at a forty five degree angle, all the while mashing out the rose juices with the rounded tip at the back of a spoon.

To hear another act so nicely toward your passion was, needless to say, refreshing. Besides, you would see the painful way chef Parker was scrunching his face at the back, wanting so badly to deflect Princess Rose’s words but unable to for many different reasons.

You have never met her before, but if Prince Minho does end up wedding her and she marries into this kingdom, you have not a single problem accepting her as your queen.

“You surely flatter me,” you said as you dipped your head at her politely, a proud smile adorning your lips. “But all the hellish process is all worth it if it meant earning your lovely approval, Your Highness.”

Changbin held back a snort, his head lowering in hopes to hide an eye-roll. What pretentious words you were spilling out of your mouth! You have never spoken to him that way before, he was sure you have never spoken to any other palace staff that way before despite most of them being well older than you.

If you could just add a hint of respect in the way you normally act, you would be so popular among everybody.

Minho’s eyes had been focused on the curls of Princess Rose’s hair the entire time, something about the way they waved made his heart flutter. He was that much infatuated with the girl he was supposed to compete the affection for among five other capable candidates. But for a moment, he allowed himself to remove his attention from her and instead, onto you.

He has never seen you around before, unsurprisingly. But he didn’t know the palace recruited kitchen staff as young as you. He couldn’t pinpoint your exact age but he could tell you hadn’t lived a day past nineteen, with your acne skin but youthful features, your badly kept but a headful of hair, and your small but invigorating body frame.

You weren’t pretty, but you were youthful. Looking at you made him feel nostalgic, it made him long for the days of his younger years when he didn’t have the pressure of the throne weighted on his shoulders. Now he’s got even more stress because of the courting selection process, his mind filled with concerns about his love not being reciprocated and having Princess Rose be engaged to another.

How Minho wished he could go back when things were less complicated, when he was free to do anything he so pleased. He should have learned how to bake a cake, but that activity have always been looked down upon by royals. He doesn’t bake cakes, he only eats them.

“I was hoping you would have some extra cream puffs left to spare, chef!” Princess Rose asked, her brows furrowing slightly as she tilted her head. “The plates were all licked clean because of how good they are, and I wasn’t able to get an extra. I was hoping someone would spare one for me.”

You raised a brow at the way Minho tensed up behind her. There were three things you noticed from that single movement.

One, Minho messed up his first test in the courting process by not giving up his own cream puff. But, judging by what she told you, nobody else did either, so that should not cause too much damage to his romantic health bar yet.

Two, Hyunjin wasn’t paying attention this whole time. His eyes were dazed but focused somehow, and you were unsure what he was focused on because as soon as you tried to catch his eyes, he looked away with a clearing of his throat. His plump lips pursed together as he eyed Minho, who looked at him with mild concern, before he dared to return his gaze on you.

He did it discreetly that time, not so much straightforwardly staring at you, and he could only slowly ease back into the longing stare when he found that your attention had reverted to Princess Rose again.

Three, Minho cared more about Princess Rose than Hyunjin did. That could just be a false assumption, though, from the way Hyunjin did’t react at all to her words while Minho did such a dramatic flinch.

Whatever it was, you hoped all the best for Minho. Both because you were quite fond of the princess and because you’d love for her to find true love.

Smiling, you gave her a nod and stepped aside to gesture toward the table. The ingredients were still presented on the table, but you knew she had overlooked all the utensils and sped her eyes straight to the tray of rosy pink cream puffs.

“How many of them would you like, Your Highness?” You asked, moving closer to the edge of the table and grabbing the sifter in your hand, prepared to add the powered sugar to the remaining cream puffs.

“Let’s see…” she hummed, her body moving swiftly in anticipation but you could tell from the way she was curling her firsts that she was still trying to maintain her image, “I would like three more, please!”

“Not a problem, Your Highness.” You flashed her a smile before your eyes looked behind her shoulders at the two princes. You raised your brows, your head tilting to the side as you threw caution to the wind for a brief moment to speak casually. “And the two princes standing behind Her Highness? Would you two like some extra cream puffs too?”

Startled at your sudden question, Minho nodded with his eyes darting around your vicinity. He did remember liking it, perhaps not as expressively as most of the others did, but he did adore the rosy taste of the filling. It was sweet, a very darling contrast to the actual meal he had.

“Yes, I would like one, please,” he requested, his voice smaller than it needed to be with you.

Hyunjin, unlike his cousin, was quick to jump on the enthusiastic train after Minho’s voice dropped. He clenched his hands together behind his back, his eyes lighting up at the chance to speak to you again, and when he spoke, his voice was unsettlingly formal and an octave lower than usual.

“I would like to have the rest of the cream puffs, please,” Hyunjin said, giving you a charming smile.

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes widening awkwardly at the way he seemed like he was anticipating something from you. But since you had no idea what he was thinking of, you only gave him a quick nod and returned to work on the cream puffs.

During the meantime, Minho took the chance to nudge his cousin in the ribs so to catch his attention. When Hyunjin glanced to the side at him, he flashed him a playful glare and a gradually blossoming smile. It was a wordless way for him to ask Hyunjin what in the fresh hell was that sudden attitude change he did to you?

Hyunjin shrugged, his lips quirking up into a smirk. “What?”

“You’re acting weird,” Minho replied lowly. “Why are you suddenly talking like an adult?”

“I am? Heavens, I did not notice, truly,” Hyunjin said, placing a hand over his heart. “I have always talked like this.”

“Stop lying, I have known you for years,” Minho hissed out. “You have never used that voice before unless you are trying to appeal to somebody!”

Changbin moved his body so his back faced the three royalties. Pretending to look over you pouring powered sugar on the dessert, he finally allowed himself a moment of rest and rolled his eyes freely. Did the two princes just assume everyone in the room was deaf or did they overestimate their ability to whisper?

He, and you, and possibly Princess Rose and chef Park, could hear their conversation clearly anyway. There was no need to whisper like that. It made them look stupid.

“Sorry to interrupt your lively discussion, Your Highnesses, but here are the cream puffs you asked for,” you said as you turned to them, your hands full with the cream puffs.

You gave the single one, supported by a baking parchment paper, to Minho first. Then you handed Princess Rose a smaller wooden tray of cream puffs, smiling faintly when she gleamed at the dessert in her hands. Lastly, you turned to Hyunjin and handed him the remaining of the cream puffs on a rectangular tray. He smiled at you, you politely returned it.

“Thank you so much!” Princess Rose beamed, holding the tray in her little hands like it was one of her many tiaras. She looked up at you, her eyes sparkling in a way that made you sweat; it was too cheerful and too jumpy for you. “Ah, I am so glad that you chose to make this. And of course, credits to chef Park for appointing you this position, I wouldn’t have had the chance to taste this if he hadn’t.”

You caught your lower lip between your teeth, your cheeks jutting out uncontrollably when chef Park was forced to give the joyful princess a smile, seemingly all in agreement to what she said. He must be furious, having his opinion denied by a royalty in such an energetic way after he just slapped you for defying him.

It wasn’t the best revenge, but it was good enough and amusing to watch from the side.

When you caught Changbin’s eyes, you found that he was trying his best to hold in a bright smile. His eyes widened at you and his head tilted to gesture towards the awkward man by the door, fumbling to keep up with the chatty princess. You could only giggle under your breath, pulling a face before allowing a smile to fully appear on your face.

Hyunjin clenched the edge of the tray unconsciously, his eyes once again lingered on your grin. He couldn’t hear your laugh, it must have been feathery light, and for once he despised the outdated rule of servants not being able to act freely around royalties. He wanted to hear it, he wanted to hear you laugh.

How were you doing this to him? His heart a pitter-pattering mess as he looked at your mundane features, not at all like himself or the princess in this room, yet his cheeks flush at the mere sight of you ever sine that morning in the garden. It seemed to have gotten worse now that he learned how good of a baker you are.

Delicious food and a naturally endearing face? Oh god, how could Hyunjin ever handle this.

“Hyunjin? Let’s go, mother might be wondering where we are.”

The boy snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Minho, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to a new face. When he did, all he could find was Minho smirking at him with a somewhat understanding look before turning to look at your direction.

He followed his eyes, your frame coming into sight then. You weren’t paying much attention to them anymore since they didn’t ask you for anything else. Instead, you had turned to clean up with table with Changbin’s help, lecturing him to gather certain utensils and dumping them at the sink. Removing his eyes from you, he looked at Minho again and he frowned.

“What?” He asked, shrugging.

Minho stared at him for a moment, wondering if he had caught onto the wrong idea. He swore that Hyunjin was staring at you, in the way Princess Rose was looking at those cream puffs and in the way he used to look at her—filled with infatuation and longing curiosity. It was a terrible crush.

Hyunjin could be denying it, but he could also be assuming things wrong. He couldn’t tell for now, so instead of pushing into the matter, he only patted Hyunjin on the shoulder and turned away to find Princess Rose. He left Hyunjin standing there, confused and frustrated at his own confusion, wondering what Minho meant with that knowing smirk of his.

With his mind filled, Hyunjin tilted his head to the side with mumbles escaping his lips. He spun around after sparking you one last glance, opting to reach for the rosewater cream puffs and popping one into his mouth. The sugary taste engulfed him in a loose but warm hug, and he felt giddy all over knowing that you were behind these sweet little puffs.

The baking room was reduced to silence again after the three royalties left, the only sounds that resonated in the room was from the water faucet and the cashing of baking utensils. You and Changbin have both shut your mouths as well, realizing that chef Park was the only authority still standing around.

His posture was rigid, and it wasn’t solely because his bones were getting older and older by day. He was proven wrong straight to your face, immediately after he belittled you so harshly that the staffs outside could have surely heard him. He knew he wouldn’t tell a soul about what Princess Rose said tonight to save face, but in a way he’s already been humiliated enough.

The last person he didn’t want knowing that the princes and princess liked those cream puffs was you, and you had been present through the entire event.

You wiped your wet hands on the towel, drying your skin roughly before looking back up at chef Park. Your eyes were dull, bored even, but the way you smiled showed triumph, and he hated it. That shit-eating expression of yours could go straight to Hell if he could control it.

Damn brat, just because the princess liked your dessert now you suddenly think you’re all that, huh?

“You better not be expecting a compliment,” chef Park spoke first, glaring at you. “Like it or not, the main problem doesn’t lie in whether the dessert is good. It is the fact that you can’t follow instructions.”

What a liar. He barely mentioned one thing about you not following his recipe. It was all about your baking being terrible and him losing his career. Seeing that your cream puffs were fine and that you actually do have skills lined up your sleeves, he suddenly turned a blind eye to it and switched the topic he was mad about.

Chef Park couldn’t hide that obvious grunge he held against you for the life of it. He would find something to get mad at you for no matter what, and frankly, it has made your days in the palace a living hell. If it wasn’t for the good companions you’ve met around this place, and your daily mischief where you would bake instead of finishing tasks, you’d be miserable.

“You won’t be cooking for the next week, take that as a light punishment for breaking my rules,” he huffed with an eye-roll, holding a hand up when you glared at him and tried to talk back. “You won’t get out of it, [Name]. I’ll only extend the days the more you try to talk yourself out of it.”

You pursed your lips together and stayed silent, your nails digging into the heel of your palm as you forced your words to fall dead at your tongue.

He was right; since he has the authority over you, no matter how much you try to appeal to the situation, you wouldn’t succeed. He hates you, plain and simple, and if he wanted you out of the kitchen, he’ll do it. The only thing he couldn’t actually do was get you kicked out of the palace entirely.

That would be up to the palace butler, and lord, did chef Park hated that thorough bastard. Chan probably wouldn’t kick you out for the world considering his keen senses on detecting a false or angry report. He could see straight past chef Park’s bullshit with just a snap of his fingers,

Besides, Chan have always had soft spots for the younger palace staffs, even more for you since you were the youngest one. Acting like he was your blood brother, that nosy fucker. Let him find out what chef Park did to your pretty little face and he would be done for, which was the sole reason why he got you out of the kitchen and into maid duty.

If you stay outside the palace, you stay away from the butler. You didn’t know Chan has that kind of authority amongst the staffs yet, but he wasn’t planning on running that risk of you blabbering about what happened.

“Have fun doing laundry, [Name],” chef Park said with malice laced all over his voice, then he pushed open the door and left.

Your shoulders slumped when he was gone, your eyes as sharp as kitchen knifes watching him leave. You wanted to explode, you wanted to scream at him for giving you another week out of the kitchen again. Another week of cleaning bedsheets and folding expensive clothes, another week of doing chores alone because you still haven’t made any maid friends, another week of sneaking into the kitchen at night just to bake something easy because you missed it so much.

You hated life here, you should have never agreed to coming here. You should have pulled the age card, telling the king that you wanted a few more years at home before entering the palace, that would have probably been a good enough reason to shoot him down. But coming here means medical treatment for your father. And even if you could say no to the king, you could not deny his wealth.

“He kicked me out again!” You whined as you turned around to look at Changbin, your feet stomping against the floor childishly. There were almost tears in your eyes, but you didn’t feel like crying so you simply started to throw a tantrum. “What is his problem with me? I swear, he never liked me! He’s only been against me since day one!”

“You did tell him his recipe is boring, multiple times too,” Changbin pointed out as he placed the last clean bowl on the kitchen counter before moving away from the sink. He dried his hands on the apron, his brows furrowing slightly as you frowned at him in disapproval.

“That’s because it is!” You exclaimed a retort.

“You do realize he became the pastry chef for a reason, right?” He reasoned, “How can he get to where he is with boring recipes.”

You opened your mouth, trying to find the right words to retort but slowly coming to the conclusion that Changbin was absolutely correct, and you have been extremely biased in your opinions. While you didn’t really think his recipes are boring, just very general steps for good ingredients, you only kept saying so because you hated him and he was being unfair to you.

You didn’t mean it half the time, but those words probably still hurt his dignity.

“Are you on my side or his, Changbin?” You asked lowly, squinting your eyes at him with a grimace.

Changbin laughed. He approached you and placed a hand on top of your head. His smile was graceful but lacking a lot in sincerity this time. It was meant to be more playful than heartfelt, you knew, a smile that told you not to take him seriously from this point on because he was joking around.

“I’m obviously on your side,” he muttered with not an ounce of strength in his voice, causing you to kick his ankles lightly. He laughed, loudly this time with his voice full. “No, seriously, kid. I am.”

You looked up at him, your chest habitually warm as he patted your head. It was a silent form of praise, you learned that from your mother constantly doing it to you when you were much younger. Now that she couldn’t be with you as much anymore, Changbin took it upon himself to give you the parental encouragements you needed as a youngster. And on rare occasion when you do see Chan, he’d ruffle your hair up as well.

Now that you think more clearly about it, without the previous anger blinding your emotions, perhaps you didn’t hate the palace life all that much. If everyone could be just like Changbin and Chan then this place would be paradise on Earth. But, as you learned, your average person could not be as capable as Chan nor as friendly as Changbin, and that was really unfortunate.

“I know,” you said, nodding at him.

“You just can’t say thank you to people for once, can you?” Changbin asked, removing his hand from your head after shoving the side of it slightly.

“I will when you’ve done something good.” You shrugged with a smile.

“What-“ he huffed, his lips quirking up into an incredulous smile as his eyes widened in a faint glare. “When have I ever done wrong by you, huh?”

“If I tell you then there is no point,” you hummed as you turned around, leaving his side for the hanger nailed to the wall by the door. You untied the knot behind you, releasing it with a swift pull, then you looped the apron out of your neck and hung it back on the knob. “When you did something wrong, sometimes it’s better to realize it yourself.”

��That’s not good communication,” Changbin mumbled under his breath, following your action. He looked at you then, his eyes rolling back for a moment as he shook his head at you, completely defeated by you. “But sure, I will apologize when I find out what I did wrong.”

You only grinned, the childish gleam in your eyes haunting him as he bid you goodnight and urged you to head to bed early. Then he left the baking room, his voice booming from outside as he called for someone in the main kitchen. Your grin dropped quickly, eyes blinking as you shifted your weight and pressed a hand to your cheek in the midst of your mindless thoughts.

Sometimes you just stare into space because you could, because your feelings need a permanent image to gather itself together for the better. One need not to always be thinking about something, sometimes your eyes settle and your mind simply register the colors, the object, never the meaning, and that would be enough thinking already.

But your mind bounced out of the headless state today when your eyes caught sight of a peculiar piece of paper stuck on the edge of the table corner, hidden underneath the counter shelf with only its tip peaking out. Your brows furrowed at the wavering object and you moved towards it slowly.

Leaning down, you pulled the piece of paper out from underneath. It was a thick parchment paper, with faint red linings printed on it that matched the redness of the wax seal stamped in the middle of the envelope. The symbol of the king’s crown was intricate and detailed, you stared at it carefully in hopes to have it memorized, wondering if you could ever redraw it using frostings.

You looked up after you finished admiring the wax seal. This could not have been a letter written by any kitchen staff. The royal seal is only available to royalties, therefore one of the three that just came by the room must have dropped it without knowing.

Curiously, you flipped the envelope around in hopes to find who the letter was addressed to. Dusting off the dirty stuck to the paper, your eyes finally registered the name written prettily on top of the paper, with a spot of spilled black ink next to the cursive name.

To Princess Rose, with love.

A love letter, but from who?

You hummed at it as you flipped it around again, your eyes fixed on the wax seal in the middle. You could always just stick it back if you peel it off, or you could just lie about the wax seal falling off after you tried to get rid of the dirt underneath the counter table. That way you could not only find out who wrote the letter, but you could also read the content.

Your fingers hovered over the red seal for a short moment, then you carefully peeled it off.

Hyunjin had finally returned into the palace from the garden. Right after wrapping up dinner time with the rest of the royal families and seeing them off in their gold carriages, he took the tray of rosewater cream puffs from a maid and headed straight for the garden.

He wanted to enjoy the dessert at the stone pavilion that stood tall behind the water fountain, surrounded by wall shrubs with white flowers growing along it. The peace and quiet covering that corner of the garden had always calmed his mind, and the moonlight cascading on the rolling water flowed as freely as his mind could as it filled itself with the thought of you.

Those cream puffs were as amazing as he remembered first trying it, and he seemed to like it even more now that he knew you were the one who made them. How unfathomable, he had no idea your hands could wove ingredients into such magnificence. As if you weren’t appealing enough already, catching his eyes and stealing his attention. Now you have caught your way to his tummy as well.

Hyunjin was able to finish the cream puffs quickly, much fortunately because not a second later he had heard the sound of Princess Rose giggling down the path to the pavilion. He almost groaned at her voice, his brows furrowing in exhaustion just from hearing it. If it wasn’t for the sugar in his mouth, he possibly would have cursed out loud.

It wasn’t that he hated Princess Rose, absolutely not. She was a very nice lady; she was pretty, very positive, has an elegant upbringing, and needless to mention, an actual royalty. He could see all her good sides and he understood why most princes would be attracted to her, including Minho, but sadly, he just wasn’t one of them.

No matter how many times he had to pretend he was okay with joining the court selection, no matter how much his parents were anticipating his victory in this romantic race, he just could not bring himself to feel anything special for her. And it has been so difficult for him to pretend to be in love with her when he already has his crush on you occupying his mind on a daily, so difficult that he’d be happy to never see the princess again.

Turning his head, he wiped the powered sugar off his lips and proceeded to dust his hand off on his pants. He got ready to face the princess, prepared to strike up a conversation and offer to walk her back into the palace (hopefully, or else he’d have to walk her around the garden and he really did not want to do that) when Minho came out of the shadowy corner with her.

They were chatting happily. Minho’s posture was relaxed but Hyunjin knew his fingers were twitching rigidly behind his back, while Princess Rose was being simply herself, a beaming girl excited to drown under the moonlight with a beautiful man.

Hyunjin breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight, knowing that those two were probably out to have some alone time with each other and Minho would definitely not welcome him to join. He discreetly tried to waltz his way out of their path, sneaking into shadows and hiding behind stone columns wrapped around in vines, and he only relaxed after he reentered the palace.

His mind lingered at the sight back in the garden for a moment, his lips quirking up funnily when it hit him that Minho was making a move in trying to appeal to her more. Oh, he surely hoped his cousin wins her hand in marriage. Minho has been in love with Princess Rose since their childhood days, an affection she was far too oblivious to sense even within close quarters.

Surely, this courting period would jolt her right out of it. Those love letters Minho would be writing to her would be one of a kind.

“Oh–good evening, Your Highness.”

Gasps! Hyunjin could recognize that voice anywhere, it was practically engraved in his brain.

Turning slowly to you, who he saw out of his peripheral vision, the muscles under that velvet blazer tensed up and his lips widened into a suspiciously big smile. His eyes darted around for a moment, finding out that he hadn’t stumbled into the kitchen but instead you had come out of the palace library.

Thank god, he hasn’t lost his mind completely yet. Mindlessly bringing himself to the kitchen would totally prove that. But judging by his increasing heart beat, he was probably close to reaching that point now.

“Good evening… uhh, chef!” He greeted back, waving absentmindedly.

“Did you just return from the garden, Your Highness?” You asked then, clutching your hands behind your back where the lost letter was held. When he gave you a questioning look, you reached on hand up to your head and tapped at it. You whispered, almost a hiss, “There is a leaf stuck in you hair.”

“Oh! Oh, right, of course!” He quickly reached his hands up to pick at his locks, hoping to find the leaf you were talking about. When his fingers couldn’t grasp anything dry, because the leaf has already fallen out with his exaggerated movements, he opted to ruffle his brown locks altogether.

Your smile dropped slightly at his choice of action. It was sudden, but it was just like the way he had swatted at that butterfly that day. A little clumsy and overall, hilarious to watch. But since you weren’t supposed to laugh at royalties, you had to keep your lips sealed up and put on a bland face in order to not break down in giggles in front of him.

Hyunjin, sadly, had taken your neutral expression too seriously and started to panic a little. What did that mean? Why did you stop smiling at him? Was he acting weird? Yes, he was acting weird! He must be acting weird! That’s not good! Oh no, Hyunjin, pull yourself together!

He quickly cleared his throat as he pulled at the hem of his blazer and stood up straight, his shoes meeting each others’ heel. His smile didn’t fade, it only became more charming than skeptical, and his dimple showed from the way his lips quirked. It was like he did a personality turn in a mere one second, and suddenly he felt like an actual prince again.

“Sorry about that. I just finished your cream puffs and I think I might be having a sugar rush,” he said, a casual huff in his voice.

“Oh,” you laughed out then, clapping your hands together soundlessly, “I see. Well, it’s never too bad to get that kind of rush once in a while, they aren’t too harmful.”

“Your sweets are too delicious to be harmful, chef,” he replied, almost flirtatiously if you weren’t so dense to believe that he would never try to flirt with you. But even then, you giggled at his words simply because he kept calling you by a title you haven’t received yet but hoped to in the future, and that made his heart all excited and happy.

“Thank you for your kind words, Your Highness,” you said with a polite dip of your head.

“Yeah, of course, you deserve it! They’re really good!” He gave you several enthusiastic nods of approval, his eyes widening in emphasis that he meant his words more than he has ever meant anything else in his life.

And you could only thank him again, much more meekly this time due to the sudden step he made towards you. He smelt of sweat, possibly from the heat outside the garden and how he had to wear such thick fabrics under that weather, but you could hardly concentrate on that when he body stood so close and he was all up in your face about it.

Hyunjin was such a pretty man. You couldn’t believe you have never stopped to appreciate his features in your own time, even if you two have only met each other thrice by now. The whispers and coos shared between the palace maids, starting from the swoons from the younger ones to the motherly praises of the older ones, weren’t just here for show, you realized.

His eyes were surely a brilliant shad of brown, reminding you of the perfect brownies you have once baked for the neighbours’ kids. Looking into them reminded you of their innocent giggles, it made your heart swell in nostalgia.

And his prettily plump lips made his smile magnificently bright, shaping his face perfectly like colouful frosting fitting perfectly into the surface of a cotton cake. It feels satisfying to watch and such a serotonin boost, much like that vanilla cotton cake you baked for your father’s birthday.

You smiled even more fondly at him then, remembering the warmth of your hometown and letting your heart lean into the longing. It only made you smile; sometimes sadness displays itself in the form of a smile, you thought that meant you are slowly embracing the fact that you’re getting over it.

After allowing himself a moment to watch you in silence, because it seemed you were also doing the same, Hyunjin finally broke the moment by faking a cough. When he caught your attention, he pointed behind you at the big double doors and asked, “You came from the library?”

“Oh, yes, I was just inside to borrow something from the butler,” you said, smiling.

“Ah… is it Chan?” Hyunjin asked.

“Yeah. I assume you two have already met each other, Your Highness?”

“Yes, he has worked in this palace for a long time,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly. “He just used to watch over me and Minho when we would go outside to play. If you ask him about me, he’ll probably tell you how insufferable I am.”

“Well, I am sure you used to be as charming as you are right now, Your Highness,” you said humbly, causing his eyes to soften. He sure hopes he’s charming enough to linger in your head.

“Oh, actually, I do have a small question to ask you, Your Highness!” You abruptly said after a moment of silence, almost preparing to take your leave when you remembered the letter in your hands.

Hyunjin blinked in confusion, waiting patiently as you clenched your fingers softly around the envelope before finally moving your hand back to the front so he could see the letter. He furrowed his brows at the red seal, recognizing it as the royal seal and only getting more confused as to why you have it in your hands.

“I found this on the kitchen floor, I was wondering if you dropped it when you came by?” You asked, handing the re-sealed letter to him before timidly shrinking back on your spot.

Hyunjin looked at the envelope, his brows furrowing more as he wracked his brain to think. Seeing the words ‘To Princess Rose, with love.’ was able to snap him out of his thoughts quickly as he snapped his fingers with a yell of realization. You jumped, your eyes widening as he turned his head to look to the side.

He looked anxious now, his fingers fluttering against each other in mild panic and stomping his feet gently against the ground. This was what Minho talked to him about, the love letter! He was supposed to hand out his first letter to the Princess Rose so when she leaves, he could keep sending her love letters until the courting period ends and she has to pick her husband.

“Oh, no,” he muttered under his breath before turning to you. “Thank you for picking this up, I’ll return this to Minho so don’t worry about it!”

“Oh, I wasn’t really–“

“Goodbye, I hope we can see each other again soon!” He gave you not another second to finish your sentence and immediately sped off to the direction where he came from. But before he could go too far, he stopped with a few stumbles and turned back around to ask loudly, “Chef! I forgot to ask for your name!”

Your face heated. What did he need to be so loud for, it was such a trivial problem! Oh, even though nobody was around to witness this, it somehow felt embarrassing! Hopefully, Chan couldn’t hear him from inside the library, it’d be weird to have to explain to him that the prince suddenly just asked for you name when they never do.

“It’s [Na]–“

“What? I can’t hear you!” He leaned forward, turning his head to the side to show his ear.

You pursed your lips together in faint annoyance before you took a step closer to him and said firmly, “It’s [Name]!”

Hyunjin flashed you a smile, his head nodding. “Okay,” he said, “I hope to see you later, [Name]!”

You clutched your hands together, feeling your red face still permanent even after Hyunjin turned around the corner and left like the wind. Gosh, why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? He was never in your mind before, and you weren’t about to be so shallow to develop a crush on him simply because of his gorgeous face, were you?

You shook your head with a light curse, reminding yourself that Hyunjin was a prince and you were just a palace baker, and you spun on your heels to leave before Chan could open the library door to ask about the commotion.

Minho was panicking. The second he reached his hand in his pocket and realized the emptiness of it, he started to panic.

He had the whole night planned out in front of him weeks before Princess Rose even arrived to the kingdom for a night’s stay. He had spent days and nights roaming about in the palace library, flipping open one too many romance books and hoping to find the right words to ink down on the love letter he would give to her tonight.

First the dinner, the garden, then he would give her the first love letter within the next ten love letters he would write over the course of a full month.

But he couldn’t find the letter in his pocket. The letter he so desperately stuffed inside his tiny pants pocket before leaving his room to welcome the carriage, the letter he had been worrying so hard about for the whole night, the letter he kept wishing had not gone wrinkled in the confine space was gone, vanished, evaporated in air particles he could no longer see nor touch.

And god, was he humiliated to have to keep Princess Rose waiting while he awkwardly laugh to fill the delay.

Seeing the way he kept fumbling with himself, the princess tilted her head to the side and furrowed her pretty brows. She gave Minho a few more seconds to search himself before she opened her mouth to ask, “Are you okay, Minho? You look ghastly.”

“I’m fine, Rosie. Don’t worry,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head as his movements halted to a stop. His cheeks were red, but it was hard to see with his back turned on the moon. “I am just… I’m just finding something.”

“Oh? What is it? Maybe I can help you look for it,” she got off the stone bench and approached him, her eyes gazing around at the floor carefully.

“It’s not–it’s probably not on the ground?” Minho grimaced as he looked around the ground, hoping that he hadn’t dropped his precious letter on the floor and let the wind swipe it up in the air.

“What is it, though?” Rosie pressed on, leaning forward to stare up at Minho. “I can help you find it. It seems important to you.”

“It is,” he sighed, a faintly annoyed look gracing over his angry brows before he softened a little upon her face.

Pursing his lips together, he realized there wouldn’t be any harm in asking for her help. This could be a treasure hunting game of some kind; tell her about the love letter he wrote, ask her to find it with him, and the reward would be her receiving the love letter. It could be quite fun searching through the garden, the moon and the night sky already helped with setting the mood enough to not make this feel like a mundane chore.

The only regret Minho has was not playing it cool and pretending he had this plan all along. He knew Rosie didn’t much mind it, she never really did mind his occasional clumsiness much, but swerving out of his original plan really irked him.

“Actually, yeah, I would love your help,” he said, looking at her. “I think I dropped a–“

“Love letter delivery!”

Like a lightbulb going on, alarm bells rung in Minho’s ear briefly upon Hyunjin’s panting but cheerful voice. He whipped his head to the side, his eyes widened in bewilderment as he watched Hyunjin halt to a tiring stop. Sitting right between his fingers was the envelope he had been hoping to see.

“Love letter?” Princess Rose turned to the side so she could face Hyunjin fully. She walked near the boy and reached her hand out, demanding the letter to be delivered as he so loudly announced a moment ago.

Hyunjin looked at her, his jaw dropped slightly in reluctance. His eyes gazed past the princess and at Minho, asking for permission. When Minho rolled his eyes and gave him a casual shrug, he learned two thing: (1) it does not matter what Hyunjin does, because either way Minho thought he ruined the mood for him anyway and (2) yes, please give Princess Rose the letter so this humiliation event could stop.

“Here you go, princess,” Hyunjin said lowly as he placed the letter in her hand before bowing, with a hand over his heart and the other behind his back, the one he saw Chan doing to the king’s friends before. “I shall take my leave now. May you have a pleasant night, princess.”

Minho scoffed as Hyunjin swiftly turned around and walked away. He bet that boy immediately started running with his arms flailing about the second he turned the corner and just headed straight back into the palace, and he was over here acting all coy and gentle in front of Rosie.

His attention reverted to Rosie when she turned around with her brows raised in question, the love letter clutched tightly in her hand. There was a very faint blush on her cheeks, but Minho could’t tell if it was just the makeup or the shyness that was causing it. Even when she approached closer to him, the dark night seemed to have draped a veil over her face and he could not tell clearly.

“You wrote me a love letter,” Rosie mused, waving it about in the air as an amused smile spread across her face.

“Yes, I did,” Minho replied in a grunt, putting his hands on his hips, “I am supposed to be courting you this month, right?”

“True,” she said, carefully tearing the wax seal open and removing the letter from the envelope, “but you are the only contestant to hand me a love letter so bonus points for you.”

“I thought the bonus point should already be added from me being your childhood best friend,” he joked, his tone holding a hint of mischief in it.

“Correction, childhood friend,” she said as she walked over to the bench and sat down. She placed the envelope to her side and held the thin letter in her hands. “You’ve lost your title as best friend, that belongs to a princess now.”

“Ouch, my feelings are hurt, Rosie,” he said playfully, putting a hand on his heart and feigning to be in pain.

Rosie lifted her gown and kicked Minho’s feet, not hard enough to make him stumble but hard enough to sting with her heel. She only smiled when Minho threw her a glare, and she returned to the letter in her hands. As she unfolded the paper, she spoke casually, “If I like the letter then I’ll add you more bonus point then.”

Minho kicked the rocks at his feet as he waited. His eyes nervously looked around the garden, embracing the scenery around him as he took in everything he has never paid much attention to. The carefully trimmed bushes, the wavering flowers, the reliable trees, and the clear path along the garden—the staffs sure take a good care of this place, he never took notice, and he would surely forget soon when another conversation strikes up with Rosie.

How beautiful the royal garden was has never been the kind of trivial things he has to let his mind linger on. Pretty things as such are like candy; he takes it in, and he forgets it until he gets another glimpse again, and never once does he take into account how the beauty comes to be because all he has to do is drown himself in it.

The silence was engulfing him whole, not in a comforting way as his own room would, but anxiously. The sound of silk curtains waving by his room’s window turning into the thunderstorm raining down in his chest, lighting strikes zapping down and just barely burning his lungs to create this exhilarating feeling inside of him.

He was trying so hard to read her face, to see what she thought about the letter, to know if she liked it. But Rosie kept a straight race the entirety of her reading the letter, and the initial reaction she gave Minho was a bland expression. There was no smile, her eyes were empty, and her brows seemed neither happy nor angry.

Minho’s heart jumped as his mind raced to recall the days of him writing the letter. Has sleep-deprivation caught onto his brain and started spilling words for him? Or was his writing so purely bad that even Rosie couldn’t bring herself to pretend to appreciate it?

He couldn’t speak when she suddenly stood up and walked near him. With wide eyes, Minho watched as Rosie raised her fist in the air before she landed a knock on his shoulder. Her hand stayed there, her fist slowly spreading out so her hand covered his chest, and she glanced down on the floor.

“You… you…” she muttered under her breath before looking up, with her rosy cheeks and shy smile, “you get extra bonus points.”

Minho took a second to huff out a relieved sigh, and it was both from how adorable he thought Rosie looked acting like that and from the fact that she liked the love letter he wrote. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat lining up his forehead and wiping it away, then he finally smiled down at the princess.

“You liked it?”

“Liked it? Heavens, Minho, I loved it!” She exclaimed, her hands leaving his chest and going to clutch the letter. She looked down at it once again, a smile blossoming on her face as she re-read the words before sighing dreamily, her hand pressing the letter to her chest. “I mean, I had no idea you could write like this!”

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I did look for a lot of references.”

“Oh, but even then!” She said, looking down at the letter, “how my eyes rivals that of the depths of the ocean, how they contain all the secrets you wish patiently for me to reveal about myself–Minho, that is very romantic!”

Oh that was, indeed, a very pretty sentence and it absolutely did reveal his deepest affection for Rosie, but just hold on a minute.

Minho’s hand dropped to his side as his brows slowly furrowed, his mind paused to think again, recalling his time spent sitting at a desk with the quill pen in his hand. And he thought about it long and hard only to come to a terrible conclusion: he did not write a single thing about ocean in the letter.

��I’m sorry, what ocean?” He asked, leaning forward slightly in hopes to look at the letter.

Rosie smiled cluelessly at him and she repeated, “My eyes? The part where you said my eyes rivals that of the depths of the ocean?”

“Oh, that…” Minho giggled nervously.

He wrote no such thing.

Minho watched with a grimace as the white carriage moved away from the palace front yard where he stood, along with a few palace staff and Chan standing just to his side.

It was finally time for Princess Rose to leave for her kingdom in order to create a fair ground for all the other contestants in the courting period. Minho would definitely be visiting her sometime during the month, knowing fairly well the other princes will do so too, but he’s also got the love letters he would be sending her way over the course of the month. Therefore, he shouldn’t do too bad on it.

The only problem he has right now was to find out who switched his letter out with something else, and his first suspect was none other than Hwang Hyunjin.

“Chan!” Minho called immediately after the carriage was out of sight. He turned abruptly to the side where Chan stood, annoyance surfacing to his face and causing the rest of the palace staffs to quickly scurry away from the front yard.

Chan breathed in deeply at the prince’s voice, already sensing that there would be some sort of trouble happening under the palace roof today. For a second he looked at the fading carriage with longing, wanting nothing more than to jump on the wagon and ride back home where he could sleep until sunset. Taking care of palace duties could really take a toll on him sometimes, as capable as he is.

But well, too bad that he got picked because he had an honest face and the previous butler trusted him the most. He would be stuck here until he could find himself a suitable replacement for this position.

Chan put on a soft smile as he turned to look at Minho, and he asked, “How may I be of service today, Your Highness?”

Minho furrowed his brows, his grimace deepening at his friend’s formal tone. “Cut the crap, jeez,” he waved his hands dismissively, “you sound disgusting.”

“That, I believe, a lot of guests beg to differ,” Chan said jokingly, adding a somewhat seductive wink at the end of his sentence and causing Minho to roll his eyes.

Even though he wasn’t wrong, and that lots of gentlemen and ladies who have walked through the palace doors for balls and parties have openly discussed Chan’s more than gorgeous features and top-tier politeness, he didn’t need to say that. Not to mention that stinking wink he did, ugh, it just makes Minho shiver.

“I’m going to pretend I never heard that but do invite me to your wedding if there will be one,” he said before jumping right back into the original topic. “Do you know where Hyunjin might be?”

“Prince Hyunjin…” Chan hummed as he turned to look at the palace, his eyes squinted as if he could see right through the walls and pinpoint Hyunjin’s exact location.

And perhaps he could. After all, he had taken care of him for years before due to his frequent visits, he might still be able to recall Hyunjin’s never changing morning routine if he tried hard enough. Giving it another thought, mentally listing all the things Hyunjin does in the morning and about how long it takes for him to finish each tasks, Chan finally turned to look at Minho again.

“I could be wrong, but it is likely that he would be on his way to the garden right now,” Chan said. “And since he usually likes to grab a snack for that, he might be near where the kitchen is at the moment.”

“Got it, thanks!” Minho mumbled under his breath as he sped past Chan and ran inside the palace, leaving the butler completely bewildered.

And, just as Chan predicted, Hyunjin was walking along the hallway with his hand holding up a plate of cake. His brows were furrowed and there was a pout on his face that he couldn’t wipe off.

He spent his entire morning in the library. He had laid on the velvet couches, all four of them plastered across the corners of the reading area, with a different book in his hands every other minute.

He never actually paid attention to reading them, he only flipped the books open to read a few lines before he would close it and drop it on the tea tables. His short attention span never quite allowed him the time and space to finish one book entirely.

But he loved the library even then. It is quiet as the garden is, and while it couldn’t refresh his mind like the garden could with the flowery scent and the bright blue sky, the library has always given him a mysterious, candle-lit atmosphere.

He loved the carpet floors and how his footsteps could never be destructive walking around it, and he loved the concept of books lining up the shelf, each one of them a different emotion stained with ink.

The library is so alive to him, filled with people’s quiet minds, waiting for him to discover.

After his hazy morning delight, all spent drowning in pages and admiring certain phrases he found beautiful, he started thinking about you. A gentle thought, one that could waver off easily if he tried, but he never tried because he Hyunjin loved thinking about you.

You and your mellow words, spoken in such a gentle voice, your formality that he genuinely disliked, your passionate hands that could make brilliant desserts. He smiled with the poetry book pressed close to his chest. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was see you, which would be convenient for him since you two were located under the same palace roof now.

He finally got off the soft surfaces and decided to head to the garden so he could admire the flowers and, well, daydream about you again, and he had stopped by the kitchen in hopes to find you there.

He wanted to talk to you again, and perhaps he could humbly ask for a tray of snack from you to enjoy during his long visit to the garden too. But you were nowhere to be found when he arrived, not when he glimpsed into the kitchen and not by the other kitchen staffs who worked inside.

He did get himself a plate of strawberry cake, though, which he was quite in the mood for. But nothing beats being able to eat the dessert you make, and he knew that you didn’t make this cake as chef Park was the one who handed it to him while telling him about how he spent the whole morning making it.

As he made his way across the hall, putting pieces of the cake into his pouty mouth, rapid footsteps were making their way towards him from the other side. When Hyunjin finally registered the noises, he looked up from his plate and stopped when he found Minho racing towards him from the other end of the hall.

His pulled a face at the way Minho was panting by the time he approached him, watching his pathetic face contorting while stabbing the fork into the cake and popping in another piece. Hyunjin’s mouth was full when he spoke, his voice slightly muffled by the small pieces of strawberries and the soft cake in his cheek.

“What are you running for, you idiot?” He asked, a hint of irritation present in his voice as he waved his fork around the air. “See? Now you can’t breathe! You look stupid, and for what reason, Minho? For what?”

Minho looked up at Hyunjin, huffs of breath leaving his lips as his gaze hardened in confusion. “Who put roaches in your cake, Hyunjin?” He asked as he stood up, looking at Hyunjin with a permanent frown as he pushed aside his own problems to ask about his attitude. “You’re so grumpy and for what reason, hmm?”

Hyunjin scoffed, stuffing his cheek with yet another piece of cake before he complained, “Shut up! I’m just disappointed, that’s all.”

“Why? Is the cake bad?”

“No, it’s a normal cake, and I’m not going to explain it to you so just leave it,” Hyunjin sighed, his voice much gentler now that he has calmed down from the heat of not being able to see you just then. He poked at the frosting with the fork and eyed Minho carefully, his brows raising in question, urging him to speak.

Minho gathered himself then. He has been thinking about the love letter all night, feeling both furious and defeated because he was torn between being happy that Princess Rose liked the love letter, thus liking him better, and being upset that his feelings weren’t the ones delivered to her but somebody else’s words.

He wasn’t sure if the process mattered more than the result this time.

“Did you write my love letter?” Minho asked, going straight to the point.

Hyunjin stared at him for a long moment, just munching on his cake and looking directly into his eyes with his own hollow and dead ones. And it took Minho a light-hearted shake of his head before he finally spoke in that bored, nonchalant tone of his.

“That’s a stupid question, Minho,” he said with a snicker, “if you said it is your love letter then who else could have written it but you?”

“Hyunjin,” Minho called once, firmly, his fists curled to his side and a sarcastic smile on his face.

Hyunjin laughed, holding his hand out in mock defence as he took a few steps back. Alright, he didn’t register how Minho was being serious but hearing his teeth gritting against each other was a good enough indication. He was still smiling in amusement when he forked up the crumbs of the cake and shoved them in his mouth.

As soon as he dragged the fork away from his lips, he spoke with an incredulous grimace, “Okay, okay! No, no I didn’t write your letter.”

Minho pressed on for a little more, not believing in Hyunjin just yet due to how playful he was being. “Are you sure? Nothing like… how Rosie’s eyes are like the ocean?”

“Eww, god no, that’s cheesy!” Hyunjin gagged, his nose scrunching up in pure disgust.

He couldn’t even begin to think of Princess Rose in a romanic way, let alone write something about her pretty eyes being akin to the ocean when they’re not even blue. That kind of creativity wasn’t reserved for her, it was reserved for you, someone who he was actually fond of.

“Well, she liked it so cheesy or not, it worked,” Minho scoffed as he crossed his arms. “Except I wasn’t the one who wrote it, and if it wasn’t you either then it has got to be the person before you… say, who gave you the letter, Hyunjin?”

“Huh? Uh… [Name] gave me the letter…” Hyunjin’s voice trailed off slowly to a halt as he watched Minho’s expression morph into confusion. He waved his fork in the air and explained, “The one who made those cream puffs yesterday. They said they found it on the kitchen floor, I think they tried to ask Chan about it too since they came out from the library when I saw them.”

Minho tilted his head to the side, his mind racing to piece of puzzles together. It could not have been Chan who helped him write the letter. If he wanted to help then he would have done so weeks ago when he saw Minho turning and flipping pages of multiple romance books in the library. Why would he suddenly rewrite the whole letter for him?

Besides, Chan wouldn’t head inside the kitchen for no reason. His duty laid outside the kitchen, where the main rooms of the palace were located. You definitely picked it up after he dropped it and looked inside because curiosity got the best of you.

What Minho couldn’t understand was why you rewrote his letter? Have you planned to sabotage his undisclosed plan to court Princess Rose?

“[Name]…” Minho muttered under his breath, his chest heaving in frustration as his brows knitted to the middle. Whatever reason it was, you already did what you should not do; your crimes didn’t simply lie in rewriting Minho’s love letter, you obviously tore it open and read it as well. And he has to settle that with you.

Sensing Minho’s displeasure, it took Hyunjin a short moment to realize he might have just snitched you out accidentally, albeit he wasn’t aware of what you did and neither could Minho be sure, it seemed. Placing the fork on the plate and casually dropping the plate on the side table, carefully pushing it into the corner and against the flower vase landed on top.

Hyunjin placed a hand on Minho’s shoulder and laughed awkwardly, trying to deescalate his rising emotions. “I’m sure they didn’t do anything, though. Maybe you wrote something and you just forgot!”

“I’ve been facing that letter for weeks, I’ll never forget it,” Minho mumbled under his breath as he brushed Hyunjin’s hand off and started walking towards the direction of the kitchen.

Hyunjin panicked. Minho seemed genuinely annoyed and he might have just put fuel to the fire by trying to defend you. He had no idea what Minho planned to do if he found out you did tweaked his letter, and he wasn’t sure if he has the power to stop whatever Hell could be descended upon you, so he made another mistake by stopping Minho in his tracks again.

His hands tugged at the older’s collar, stopping him from moving forward. When Minho turned around to throw him a glare, he felt a shiver run down his spine and he immediately let go of his red silk shirt.

“They’re not in the kitchen, I dropped by and they weren’t there so no point heading to the kitchen!” Hyunjin said nervously, clapping his hands together and rubbing his smooth skin.

Minho furrowed his brows. Fake smile, anxious eyes, and fidgety hands—he wasn’t lying, Minho knew. Hyunjin have always been the better liar of the two, he wouldn’t break a sweat if he had to lie to an entire crowd about some bullshit idea. Bluffing was his thing. If he was acting like this then he was just nervous and nothing else.

Unless Minho was wrong, of course. Since this situation matters you, and Minho suspected that Hyunjin has developed an enigmatic affection towards you (one that he needs to talk to him about because oh, no, a prince with a kitchen staff? The atrocity of that was immaculate), it could be possible that Hyunjin has thrown all caution to the wind and started to lose his head a little.

How disappointing. It wasn’t like Minho was going to do anything cruel to you. Did Hyunjin actually think he’d send you to the chamber over some stupid love letter? Hurtful, atrocious, obscene. Hyunjin has no faith in his tolerance at all even after all these years of him enduring his bullshit.

“Well, I still have to find them somehow,” Minho muttered under his breath as he dusted his hands and continued to walk forward. “I need an explanation to why they rewrote my love letter!”

“No need to do that because I wrote it! I was the one who wrote it for you!” Hyunjin quickly said, catching up with Minho. But judging by the way Minho only kept walking, he knew his hasty lies were left both unheard and revealed.

There was a moment of silent as the two walked towards the kitchen, Minho leading at the front while Hyunjin followed closely behind. Glancing behind his shoulder, Minho found the younger prince to still be fidgeting with the hem of his clothes, his eyes nervously looking around the walls and down at the pattered carpet, and a defeated sigh escaped his lips.

He wondered if Hyunjin noticed it himself; the way he stares at you, and the way his mind get all hazy whenever your name is mentioned, and how his movements always turn so abrupt and sudden when you are within presence. Minho wondered if Hyunjin realizes how his crush on you was only progressing when he should be suppressing it.

A relationship like that wouldn’t work, a prince and a kitchen staff.

Even if Hyunjin was willingly to give up his royal status to be with you, which was a problem of itself, you most likely wouldn’t let him do such thing.

It’s a tie bound to break.

You dropped the vine basket on the ground, the squelching of the freshly washed laundry a sound that reminded you of the chore you were supposed to be doing. You looked down at the wet clothes you were supposed to hang on the strings tied to the wooden poles in the backyard, groaned, and sat down on the curb by the bushes.

It has been a tiring day, much more tiring than when you still had kitchen duties, where you'd be asked to anything but bake even though you were appointed as a baker. But cleaning the dishes and gathering fruits in the orchard could still, to some level, be an enjoyable task for you.

Cleaning the dishes lets you at least smell the food in the kitchen, and picking fruits gives you time to think up new recipes. You could still somehow string baking into those kitchen duties you were often asked to do. But scrubbing the royalties’ clothes using a giant tub of soapy water and having to hang them all at the backyard? Not fun at all.

It was just tiring, and it was lonely because you have zero to none maid friends who’d talk to you.

You were the first one to finish washing all the clothes. It could possibly be your carelessness in not making sure if you’ve cleaned the clothes thoroughly, but you believed it was mostly your profound desire to get the hell away from the giant tub of gossiping maids, all with their sleeves rolled up and their mouths blabbering about the latest palace gossip.

Lord, you would actually explode if you have to hear one more person giggle about how Changbin’s arms have been looking extra muscular recently, or how Chan is apparently the hottest man they’ve encountered aside from the two princes, who they try not to speak of too much because they are totally out of their league.

It was a nightmare back there. You wanted to say so many things; if only they knew Changbin talks like a baby and throws mini tantrums when he takes care of the farm animals. If only they knew Chan… uhh, you didn’t know him well enough to find any flaws in that man so you would let that one slip, but one thing you knew for sure was that Chan was definitely not as serious as everyone portrayed him to be.

Taking a giant bite of the bread Changbin snuck out for you when you walked past the kitchen with the dirty laundries, your shoulders slumped again as you relaxed against your knees and looked ahead at the yard. It was much plainer-looking than the royal garden, understandably since the backyard was mainly used to dry food and clothes. Only the palace staffs walks around this area, the royalties usually spend their time somewhere else.

Today seemed to be an exception though. As you munched on your bread, your feet tapping against the grassy ground rhythmically, your train of thoughts was interrupted when you saw two figures approaching. Not two figures in dark, plain clothing, but two figures in clothes made out of velvet and silk.

You squinted your eyes, knowing fairly well that those two weren’t any palace staff. And judging by the way they were speeding towards your direction, and how there were two of them instead of one, the king wasn’t part of the mix. Therefore, those two would be Prince Minho and Prince Hyunjin.

Quickly taking your last bite of the bread, you wrapped the napkins around it again and dropped the remaining piece on top of the wet laundry. You stood up and dusted your clothes before looking up, all just in time to find Minho stopping before you with his brows furrowed in dismay. Standing behind him was Hyunjin, who gave you an apologetic grimace when you two caught eyes.

You pursed your lips in slight confusion, but still you politely placed your hands together and bowed. “Good morning, Your Highness–“

“You switched my letter.”

You couldn’t even begin to get mad at him for cutting you off, not that you could have ever expressed your annoyance to him anyway. The fact that Minho has found you out baffled you, and you didn’t even try to deny it because he probably already knew the truth, which would be the only reason why he searched for you out of every potential candidates.

Perhaps you should have made an even more intricate lie, but you didn’t really think of that last night, especially not with how urgent you had wanted to get rid of the envelope in your hands. Now your carelessness came back to bite you in the ass, how wonderful.

“I did switch your letter, Your Highness,” you admitted, keeping a neutral face to hide your palpitating heart. You have never met Minho in close quarters like this before and you have no idea how unreasonable he could be with the kind of power he has, therefore you needed to make every move with the utmost caution.

Be polite, be fragile, be agreeable. That’s the way to go. If only you took your own advice every time, though.

Minho heaved a sigh, his hands curling into fists as a sudden rage overtook him. Why did you do that? He has never done anything to you before! “How dare you open my letter when it isn’t addressed to you!” He scolded, “Have you no manners?”

“I apologize for doing that, truly, I harbour no ill intention for doing such thing aside from my immense curiosity.” You bowed before standing back up, but you kept your head low as you waited for him to respond.

“There is no point in apologizing, you have already switched out my letter and I already gave yours to Princess Rose. Even though she loved the letter you wrote, I hated that she didn’t get to read mine,” Minho said, relaxing slightly at your timid posture. “If you weren’t trying to sabotage my plan to court Princess Rose then why did you switch out my letter?”

You licked your lower lip. Oh, you were hoping he would just give you a punishment and let the issue go. The fact that Princess Rose liked what you wrote—ha! obviously—in the love letter has probably made Minho significantly less angry than he probably would have if the letter didn’t work out in his favor. But even with his semi-reasonable state, you were unsure how you could break the truth to him.

It might be rather hurtful, especially when you heard from the maids just then how Minho has been stuck in the library flipping books and looking for references for the love letter.

"Why did you rewrite my letter? Tell me this instant.” Minho wasn’t yelling, which made it so much more intimidating.

You huffed out a gentle sigh as you looked up. A bitter taste lingered in your mouth as you shrugged, your eyes kindly refusing to look into Minho’s while your head turned to the side slightly.

“It’s…” you started, your voice trailing off to a hush before you continued, “Your love letter was really bad… Your Highness…”

Hyunjin, who had been listening from behind, took a step forward upon your reply. There was a smile on his face, and his eyes were sparking with amusement when he learned closer to you. He clamped a hand on Minho’s shoulder and gripped it tightly to prevent from being shoved off, then he asked, “What did you say?”

You cleared your throat and repeated, your eyes darting between Minho and Hyunjin, “I said Prince Minho’s love letter was… really… uhh… bad.”

“No way! How so?” Minho quickly asked, his voice showing a hint of childish complaint in it. His lips jutted out in a pout, showing that he was genuinely upset that you thought his letter was bad. And that was coming from someone who wrote a love letter Princess Rose really loved. “I spent so long on it, though! How is it bad? I even searched through books and looked for references!”

Oh god, now that you thought back to it, you didn’t know where you should begin. From what you could remember, there was simultaneously not that many flaws and so many flaws in this love letter.

Reading it was a roller-coaster ride that went straight down, a journey of you spiralling more and more into despair when you realized all the elite education Minho has received was for nothing, because the love letter he wrote was almost abominable. Unless Princess Rose’s standards were extremely low, that letter would probably not bring him to the final round of this courting race.

Looking at Minho, your brows furrowed slightly at the grim anticipation on his face. Did he really expect you to talk him through the mistakes he has made in his letter? Could he not see that you’ve got a task at hand? Just because he could hold you off from doing it doesn’t mean he has to, the consequences of wasting your time wouldn’t be for him to take.

“I would explain everything to you but I have actual chores to do, Your Highness” you said as you leaned down to pick up the vine basket, “so I apologize, but I am going to have to ask for permission to leave.”

“Woah, no way,” Minho scoffed as he held up his hand. His brows were still furrowed in disbelief, but you could sense that a part of him was also curious to why you thought the way you did about his love letter. And maybe, just maybe, deep down there was a part of him that feared his lack of writing skills.

“I have full ability to exempt you from a day’s work, and I will do that if you agree to explain to me which part of my letter sucked.”

You clutched the edge of your basket. Somehow your eyes flipped from looking at Minho to Hyunjin, and your chest relaxed a little when his warm gaze stared right back at you, a gentle smile spread across his face.

He had his hand on Minho’s shoulder, gripping it tightly as if to prevent his cousin from doing anything rash. And he didn’t have to be here during this confrontation but he was, not just because he was looking for some fun on a boring afternoon but because he wanted to make sure Minho wouldn’t act out.

Everything Hyunjin did were discreet, but he was looking out for you nonetheless.

You only gave him the faintest nod before you turned back to Minho, and you raised a brow. “Do I even have a choice, Your Highness?”

“No,” Minho said. “But I am still going to ask you politely.”

You heaved a sigh and nodded. “Fine. But, instead of exempting me from today’s work, I would like to ask for another favor if I could, Your Highness.”

Minho frowned, finding it annoying that you were trying to bargain in a situation where you have done something wrong. “What is it?”

“Chef Park has kicked me out of the kitchen to do maid chores for a whole week under unreasonable circumstances and personal grudge,” you muttered the last part under your breath, keeping an eye-roll to yourself. “I would like you to ask him to put me back in the kitchen, without revealing that I asked you to.”

“Huh…” Minho blinked unexpectedly. He turned to share an equally confused look with Hyunjin, just now realizing that you were, indeed, not fulfilling your role as a baker but instead, was doing a maid’s job. Looking back at you, he hummed.

Whether there was a serious reason why you were kicked out, one he couldn’t fathom with the delicious cream puffs you made yesterday, he didn’t care. His love letter problem was infinitely more important right now.

“I will do that.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you said, bowing with a bright smile hidden in your action. When you looked back up, your expression bounced back to a neutral politeness, and you sighed. “It won’t take all day, there isn’t too much explaining to do, really.”

Minho frowned. He did not believe you. You wouldn’t have changed the entire letter for him if there really wasn’t much problems to explain, there were obviously a lot of things wrong for you to go to such drastic length to re-write it for him.

And boy, he was determined to find out what went wrong.

You brought the two princes into the palace, entering through the main gate instead of the mini door at the side where the palace servants usually go in and out through.

The palace was separated into two parts, one much larger than the other, with the larger part being the grounds that the royalties mostly stayed on. The smaller part of the palace was located at the back corner of the structure, housing the bedrooms and bathrooms for the lower palace servants who were unable to leave home for the night.

There were several doors leading into the that particular part of the palace, and they were all built in remote corners that only the servants could navigate to. You were unsure if any royalties have ever accidentally stumbled upon one of those little doors that cut down the red carpets laid out on the floor, but you were certain that none of them has ever tried to look for nor enter those doors.

Minho has lived under this roof ever since he was born. He thought his younger self had roamed through all the secret passageways there were in his home, but he has never once arrived at this corner of the palace where you just led him to.

It was all paintings and flower vases one second, then as you turned a sharp corner, suddenly the walls became dull and the floor boards turned up with wooden scratch marks. It felt like a foreign place to him. The way the palace was structured really made it feel as if the dorm wing didn’t exist, and it didn’t exist to him until just now.

You pushed open the wooden door and revealed a long hallway of closed doors. There were tiny torch holders lining up between each door, empty and waiting for the night’s arrival. Minho and Hyunjin shared a curious look with each other, both have never been around his part of the palace before, and together they followed you down the path.

They have never noticed how loud their footsteps were before. For so long, the noises they make were drowned out by thick carpets and vibrant grass fields; the sudden loud clicking of their heels were making them feel rather self-conscious, especially when you were walking with such silent grace. Even with a full basket of heavy laundry in your hands, you made no sound as you walked.

“Where are we, exactly?” Minho raised the question as he caught up to walk next to you.

Your steps didn’t halt when you replied, his question not at all surprising to you, “The dorms, these are all our rooms. The staffs who can’t leave for home because it’s too far away stays in the palace.”

“Oh…I should have figured…” Minho muttered under his breath, looking around at the small doors you three walked past. Then he looked back at you, his brows raised. “Why are we here?”

You came to a stop then, spinning on your heels so you faced the door. Pressing the vine basket against the side of your waist, you removed a hand from the edge of the basket and reached for the rusty doorknob. A loud squeak sounded through the hall when you pushed the door open, the weight of it heavy against the wooden floor.

Hyunjin poked his head over Minho’s shoulder so he could take a better look inside the room. He couldn’t get a full view of it yet, but he could see the dust lining up the window pane where the sunlight shone in, illuminating most of the plain room.

“I just need to fetch the letter you wrote, I have kept it with me since yesterday,” you explained as you dropped the basket by the door. “We can talk in my room, but I doubt you would want to be in here so we can find a place of your liking, Your Highness.”

Hyunjin got even more curious then. This was your room, this was where you sleep every night and wake up every morning. Somehow he wanted to know what it looked like, to go more in-depth instead of only looking at the windows staring back at him from across the wall. Would he be able to certain tell-tales about you? Perhaps your clothes, or the blanket you use to keep yourself warm at night?

Even though he knew he couldn’t expect to see anything extravagant in a servant’s room, he wanted to walk inside anyway.

“No, we can talk here. This is fine,” Hyunjin said as he waltzed right inside without further warning. And when he turned around to look behind his shoulders, he threw a small glare at Minho and said, “Right? We can talk here.”

Not quite understanding what he was trying to do, but also not having any preference over where he could get his writing skills criticized, Minho gave a shrug and walked inside the room as well. And just as Hyunjin was doing, his eyes started to scan the insides once he got more access to it.

There was a single bed sitting on the far corner, sticking to the wall. A small table with two big drawers was placed near the bed with a candle holder being the only thing sitting on top. And that seemed to be all there was to that side of the room. Turning to the other side, there was only a closet and a chair right next to it.

The room was small, but it was spacious because of the lack of furniture placed. It was much better than what the two of them have expected for a servants’ room.

“Woah, this room is bigger than I thought it would be,” Hyunjin commented as he turned to you, watching you fish something out of your closet drawer.

“Yes, that should be the case since I share this room with someone else, Your Highness,” you mused as you closed the drawer before standing back up straight and looking at him, the piece of letter clipped between your fingers. Seeing Hyunjin’s raised brows, you gave him a faint laugh. “It would probably be quite a disaster if I have to share an even smaller room with Felix.”

Minho hummed, both in acknowledgement and amusement as he watched Hyunjin tense up next to him. Hyunjin gulped down a knot of dismay, repeating the boyish name under his breath as his eyes shone lightly with a burning heat.

Oh, there must be a lot of question popping into his head at the moment, the word sharing a room and the name Felix not colliding very well for the sake of Hyunjin’s poor, young heart. They have both met the young fellow before due to him being a close acquaintance of Chan, and Felix was undeniably a very charming boy whose only downside seemed to be that he’s a poor servant of the palace.

“Oh–oh, so you share a room with Felix, huh?” Hyunjin laughed out awkwardly, his eyes squinting as they darted towards the single bed. His brows twitched, wondering if you had been laying in bed with Felix this entire time. Platonically or romantically, either way he couldn’t bring himself to show enthusiasm over it.

“But… uhh, but there is only one bed?”

“Yeah, there is.” You nodded innocently, your eyes gazing at the messy bed with a grimace. Felix didn’t make the bed again, for the third time this week. You reckoned he must have a lot of work to do.

Hyunjin laughed again, his voice forced and fake. You were far too casual about it than he wanted. Perhaps he was overreacting? You could possibly be taking turns on the bed instead of snuggling up to each other as he dreaded.

When he asked the next question, his voice was squeaky in a way that made Minho snort from behind. “Do–umm, do you guys share the bed or something…?”

You blinked at him, bewildered. You have never thought of that before. Ever since you moved into the bedroom with Felix, he had insisted on letting you sleep on it while he would wrap himself up with the extra blanket and pillow on the floor. But sooner, when you realized the heavy workload Felix had to endure during the day, you proposed the system of taking turns.

It took you a lot of convincing, and a night of you stubbornly staying on the floor, for him to finally agree with the system. He was so persistent on letting you use the bed, his kindness so overwhelming that even if his back was aching from the work, he’d still choose to sleep on the cold, hard floor.

“No, we don’t share the same bed,” you said, shaking your head before you raised a finger at the ceiling, “but that is an interesting approach, Your Highness. Not only can we both sleep on a mattress, we can also huddle for more warmth.”

No, no, no. Hyunjin did not mean to suggest that! He did not mean to suggest using cuddling with Felix as a solution to your problem.

“Surely, Felix wouldn’t mind if I ask.” You smiled, snapping your fingers. “I shall heed your advice, Prince Hyunjin!”

No, don’t listen to him! Oh my lord, what has he done? If you weren’t sleeping with another before then you certainly would now, and within Hyunjin’s striking imagination, the only thing that could happen with you cuddling Felix would be you falling in love with him.

And since you often spend more time with Felix than you do with him, there would be virtually no way for him to ever try to gain your affection back!

“Well, I mean–wouldn’t that… wouldn’t that be a little awkward?” Hyunjin huffed out, “Surely, laying with another in bed, even through friendly means, is pretty intimate, don’t you agree?”

“That is true.” You hummed in thought, nodding your head in agreement before you suddenly bursted into a fit of giggles. “Oh, but Felix is quite a dreamy boy–not as much as you, of course. But I reckon I would not mind it that much if I have to lay in the same bed as him, Your Highness.”

Oh heavens, how could he have done this to himself. Why couldn’t he simply shut up and let the envy dwell in his heart. This was a new level of self-sabotaging, even the devils would need a crash course from him.

“Well, I–“

“Hyunjin!” Minho cut the boy off with a loud slap to his shoulder. He came up from behind, prompting Hyunjin to face him before he threw the younger prince a strong glare.

It has been fun watching Hyunjin mess his non-existent romantic life up, it was probably the most entertaining thing he has seen all week aside from his encounter with Princess Rose, but for the sake of not letting Hyunjin embarrass himself even more, Minho had chosen to lend a helping hand.

Besides, he wasn’t here to talk about you and your sleeping habit.

Looking back at you, Minho exhaled through his nose and his eyes froze at the letter in your hand for a moment. Then his gaze went dark, the previous anger he felt resurfacing at the reminder that you switched out his letter.

Crossing his arms, he shifted his weight to stand taller, and he spoke, “Well, about the letter?”

“Right, I have it here,” you said, waving it in the air.

Minho quirked his lip for a brief moment. He wanted to snatch it away from your hands, he wanted to read it for himself and see exactly which part of the letter was bad. He swore the way he remembered it was that he had felt very proud of himself when he wrote the letter, and he was truly beyond the moon when he finished it. How could it have been bad if he loved it so much?

You gave a a scan once more, refreshing your memories of all the thoughts you had when you first read it, so you could better explain it to him where he went wrong. A few seconds passed and you finally looked back up at the princes, one looking sulky while the other annoyed, and you couldn’t help but heave a sigh at how your day has come to this weird moment.

All you wanted to do was eat some bread before lunch time. You should have headed to your spot and started clipping up the laundry instead, at least you’d look busy then.

“Here, you should have it back, Your Highness,” you said as he handed Minho the piece of paper. After he took it gently out of your hands, you looked back up at him and said. “And I shall tell you what went wrong.”

The hard part, right.

You didn’t know where you should begin explaining it to him. On a level, he didn’t make too many mistakes. His mistake was collective, it was one mistake he repeatedly made instead of several mistakes he made once each. But that collective mistake was able to render the love letter a shallow piece of art that held almost no significance to a lover.

“Your Highness… a love letter…” you began, your thoughts cogged up in your head and you were trying very hard to find the root of everything you wanted to say to him. You licked your lower lip, your hands flying up to your chest so you could do gestures along the way. “Your love letter isn’t bad in a sense that your writing was terrible, it is bad because it read as a shallow comparison.”

The letter had consisted of Minho comparing Princess Rose to an array of things. Starting with her hair, to her eyes, to her lips, then her overall demeanour. But that was all there was to the letter, just him making drastic comparison that amounted to nothing much but a compilation of pretty objects being put together in a single passage.

“There isn’t anything wrong with the way you chose to write the letter, but there is something wrong with the way you decided that all you needed to do was create comparison,” you said. “A love letter is not a school assignment to test how many vocabularies you know, or to test how good you are at creating similes, Your Highness.”

Minho took in your words intently, his mind processing each words and the connotation behind them with utmost concentration. You made sense to him, everything that you said made sense and did not seem like you were simply trying to make up something to scold him for. He did make a lot of comparison in the letter, but he didn’t realize how that could be bad until you told him just now.

Clutching the paper in his hand, he clicked his tongue and glared down at it. But why was it bad to create a metaphor? To write down some type of simile? What was so bad about comparing your lover’s hair to the softness of silk, or comparing your lover’s laugh to the heaven’s choir?

“So are you saying similes are inherently bad and I should never use it in a love letter?” He asked, genuinely confused.

You sucked in a breath, shaking your head as your eyes squinted in thoughts. “No, I am not saying that.”

“Do you care to elaborate?”

“I was going to–Your Highness…” your voice trailed off quickly when you realized your sudden outburst, but as you eyed up at Minho, it didn’t look like he noticed the disrespectful tone in your voice. He was far too focused on the question at hand, and a part of you admired him for his willingness to take criticism.

“When you write a love letter using comparisons like that, you have to…” you hummed, licking your lower lip as your hand bounced in the air, your thumb and index finger pinched together.

“Similes are… they are completely fine to use. In fact, I used a few in the letter I wrote as well. But that is where the problem lies, Your Highness. You see, anybody can write a good comparison if they just slap a bunch of pretty words together.”

Words like soft, tender, gentle, galaxy, ethereal—language does not lack pretty words like those, and they can be as deceiving as they are romantic. Anybody can use it, anybody can say it. And sometimes when things are repeatedly being used, they lose their significance unless one puts their own spin into it.

“What you really need in a love letter is sentiment! You need something to tie your comparison back to what you feel for the person you are writing to,” you explained, holding your hands out before your chest as if you were holding a heart. “Recall how I described Princess Rose’s eyes. I did not simply compare it to the blues of the ocean, I also mentioned how its depth is the way I wanted to unravel her heart.”

Hyunjin’s mouth hung open slightly as his head cranked upward in a slow realization. He wasn’t able to follow with your conversation, but when you started to explain the elements of a love letter, he reckoned he didn’t need to read Minho’s letter to understand what you were trying to convey.

He understood it, seemingly better than Minho could since Minho still had a rather uncertain expression on his face. Marching forward, he placed his hand behind his back and spoke to break the thoughtful silence, “I get it! When you compared Princess Rose to the ocean, you are also comparing your desire to understand her as deep as the ocean goes!”

“Absolutely correct, Your Highness!” You clapped your hands together and grinned at him, your eyes glimmering with approval that Hyunjin felt a startling tug at his chest. He was smiling secretly to himself then but you couldn’t notice as you turned to Minho, raising a brow as if to ask him if he needed more clarification.

Minho looked at you, his brows still knitted together but it wasn’t due to hatred but more so confusion this time. He tilted his head, his fingers automatically clutching the letter he almost forgot his has in his hands. Then he started to mutter words under his breath, inaudible words you assumed were just him repeating the points you’ve made.

“Okay… what are you saying is…” he gulped, his eyes rolling away to avoid the faint intimidation of your gaze. “I should link everything back to how I feel about Rosie?”

“Yes, Your Highness, that is all,” you said, giving him a firm nod. “When you make a comparison, you want it to stand out among others. It has to mean something to you before it can be considered valuable, or else it is just a jumble of pretty words you can find in a book.”

“And that would be very shallow, Minho,” Hyunjin added, giving Minho’s back an encouraging slap.

Instead of answering, Minho had his letter brought up to his face and his eyes were reading every single line of it. Your explanation, plus Hyunjin’s added example, finally solved the puzzle for him. He was able to grasp the key of sentimentality as of now, an important element he didn’t know a love letter should own.

The only problem lies in whether or not he could successfully utilize the advice.

“Oh… I should rewrite this letter and send it to Princess Rose,” Minho said to himself after he finished re-reading it. He folded it carefully and slipped it inside his pants pocket, making sure he shoved it deep enough that it wouldn’t fall outside this time.

His eyes searched the ground before they looked up at you. He wouldn’t admit that to your face, but you truly helped him big time. Although he was still upset that you had switched his letter out and read through the monstrosity he wrote, he was glad you made the decision not to let him embarrass himself in front of Princess Rose.

With an awkward hand gesture, something akin to a wave but not nearly visible enough to be one, he said, “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem. I wish you all the best in your writing process, Your Highness,” you bowed at him, “If I am not of need anymore, I shall take my leave.”

You stepped away from the princes and headed to the door. You picked up the laundry basket again, the fabrics inside stopped dripping water through the twisted vines. You looped the handle over your forearm and twisted the knob, opening the door in preparation the leave. But before you could take a step, a voice halted you.

You pursed your lips together in annoyance. Whatever was he going to ask? You thought he understood everything already! There was joy in seeing how passionately Minho loved Princess Rose and how much he really wanted to write a good love letter to her, but this was taking up your work time and you haven’t gotten through even one of your laundry basket yet.

Putting on a faint smile, you turned around and asked, “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Would you share with me what you wrote in your letter? I want to use it as reference, to set an example!” Minho asked, his eyes widened in screams of silent pleads.

You heaved a sigh, your chest rising and falling visibly as you turned around slightly to face him. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but that I cannot do,” you said. “If I tell you, you will be compelled to copy it. The love letter needs to come from you, Your Highness. Your love should be without outside influence.”

You took your leave much quicker this time around, not hoping to give any of the princes a chance to stop you once more. If they do, you were seriously going to have to ask them for one more favor and exempt you from today’s tasks as a maid. You left the two princes in your room, one bewildered while the other in deep thoughts.

Hyunjin was surprised to find you to have such a romantic mind. The mere fact that you seemed to have such profound opinions in regards to love and intimacy made him fall for you even more than he was already falling. And your perception of love was something he desperately wanted to find out, to go in-depth about and to understand.

Maybe you two would have something in common, or maybe your ideas could rival that of his own. All Hyunjin wanted to do was venture inside your head and understand you from inside out. He always knew he was going to be in love with your mind and today just proved him to be absolutely right.

He wondered if he would have been able to write a good love letter on your standard. It should not be hard to create comparisons of you, he could think of countless things right off the top of his head. But the feelings… it might be hard to express himself through words simply because of how strongly he felt for you.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, Hyunjin took a look around the room and his eyes landed back on the single bed in the corner. He frowned then, his affection immediately being replaced with envy and defeat as he recalled your plan to ask Felix about sleeping together.

God, that couldn’t happen, not on his watch at least.

“Minho–“

“Yeah I know,” Minho cut him off with a dismissive wave.

He saw the way Hyunjin was glaring at the bed. Linking the previous panic Hyunjin had with you wanting to ask Felix about his suggestion, and the fact that Hyunjin got all fussy over Minho being angry at you, it was a no brainer that Hyunjin wanted to ask if there was anything that could be done about the lack of proper beds in this room.

But he wasn’t in the mood to discuss that. The only thing occupying his mind was your lecture, and he kept repeating it in his head so he couldn’t forget what you told him. Sentiment, feelings, love—include those things and don’t be bland, don’t be shallow.

“You know…?” Hyunjin muttered under his breath as he caught up with Minho, who had already left the room and started to walk back from where he came from. Judging by his quick steps, there were a lot of concerns popping into his head and Minho was racing to solve them all at once. “Are you okay?”

“You wanted to ask about the bed, right?” Minho pointed out suddenly, not stopping in his tracks as he continued to walk forward. “I can do something about that, but under one condition.”

“What?” Hyunjin asked quickly then, leaning in close an anticipation. It was anything to put a pause to your potential romantic life that involved him as the side character.

“Write the love letter with me.”

After finishing up with the wet laundries, you went ahead to take off the already dried off ones from a few days ago and headed back into the palace. You spent most of your day changing out mattresses and blankets, going from one empty room to another so you could make sure the palace stayed clean and golden.

Nobody ever uses those rooms, though? At last not within your knowledge! They were mere guest rooms but there has never been any guest who would come by and stay the night, all aside from Hyunjin, and he only occupies one of the many guest rooms in this palace. You genuinely believed there was no point in cleaning them, it wasn’t like the neighbouring duke would pay the kingdom a surprise visit.

When you were finally done with you last guest room, the night has already descended upon the sky and dinner time has long passed. Walking along the hallway where the curtains were already drawn to seal the night, your stomach grumbled as did your throat, and you scurried out to the backyard where you returned the vine basket before heading straight into the kitchen in hopes to find some leftover food to eat.

You turned on the kitchen lights after pushing open the door, your hand patting along the wall to find the small button switch. The light flickered for a moment before it settled and illuminated a small portion of the kitchen. You eyes scanned the empty space, finding the silence welcomed but lonely.

Everyone has probably gone to their room by now. It has been quite a long day due to a lady’s surprise visit (oh, so you have jinxed it). While she didn’t choose to stay for the night, the kitchen staff did need to replan their dinner and cook up something special for the queen’s friend. It all happened within a close timeframe, you heard, which was why you assumed everyone must be burned out after today.

Turning to the main kitchen area, your eyes didn’t notice the body hunched over the kitchen counter until you specifically turned towards the direction. A short squeal escaped your lips when you jumped, your hands flying up to your chest at the sudden impact. You had not expected anybody to still be in the kitchen, let alone an empty and dark one.

It took you a while to recognize the person, but seeing the bulging arms sticking out of the short-sleeved shirt and reliable back that breathed softly in his slumber, you could safely conclude that the person was Changbin. You frowned upon the realization, confused as to why he hasn’t returned to his room yet. If you had to guess, it would be him getting cleaning duties and falling asleep half-way.

But that wouldn’t explain the turned-off lights, unless the rumor about the castle ghost was real, which you heavily doubted.

Moving closer to his side, you faced his back and gave his shoulder a light poke. “Changbin!” You hissed, in a voice so low it wouldn’t wake anybody up in a crisis. When you received no response from him, you continued to poke his shoulder and call out his name, until you got fed up at your stupid method not working and you finally hollered his name out loud.

Changbin snapped his eyes open at the call, his body sitting upright immediately and his back tensing up with alertness. Panic grumbles left his mouth as he looked around the kitchen for expected danger, and when he did a double take on you, he paused quickly and finally relaxed. His shoulders slumped and he pursed his lips together, giving you a soft glare.

You shrugged, sheepishly smiling at him as you waved. “Good evening…?”

“Yes, good evening. Glad to see you’re finally done with the laundry,” he said, sliding off the stool and heading over to the stock shelves at the wall. “Sit down, I’ll cook you something to eat. You gotta be hungry, you haven’t eaten anything since this afternoon.”

He grabbed a two eggs in one hand, holding onto them tightly, then he reached over to the sink counter for a clean bowl before dropping the eggs inside. Putting the bowl next to the stove before looking up to check on you, he found you standing rigidly on your spot, unmoving and just staring at him.

Your eyes were unreadable, much to his surprise. They were always so expressive.

“Are you okay, kid?” He asked then, his voice trailing slowly in a questioning tone. “I’m cooking you egg friend rice, do you not like that or?”

Your eyes traveled past his hands to his face, and you pursed your lips. It was a rare sentiment that suddenly overwhelmed you; nobody has specifically cooked a meal for you in a long time, the last time somebody did that was your mother, but you haven’t been able to see her ever since you moved to the palace. After that, you have only been eating the leftover portion of meals that weren’t sent off to the royalties or were made extra for everybody.

A personal meal. Something about that made your skin prick. It could very likely be that you missed your mom, but a part of you knew it was because you hadn’t expect Changbin to do this. He wasn’t obligated to take care of you like this, to stay up late and make you food, possibly even deal with the dishes when you’re finished and send you off to your room before he’d go back to his own.

“Aren’t you tired?” You asked, frowning at him despite not intending to.

Changbin huffed out a low chuckle as he poured some rice into a bowl before proceeding to wash it by the sink. “Yeah, today was pretty exhausting,” he said.” But what then? Am I supposed to just not cook you dinner?”

You pulled at your fingers, unsure what else to say besides words of gratitude that you were never skilled at expressing, so you didn’t say anything. You shrugged and approached the stool he previous sat on. You got on top, your feet perched on the handle and your shoulders hunched as you waited for him to finish cooking you your dinner.

“So do you plan to tell me what happened today?” He asked as he brought the washed bowl of rice over to the stove.

Without removing his eyes from you, his hand moved to turn the stove on and poured the ingredients he prepared in top. The loud sizzle interrupted your train of thoughts and you tilted your head at him with confusion evident in the widening of your eyes, leaning forward slightly so you could talk to him through the noise.

“What happened today?” You asked.

“Felix came by and told me there is a new bed in your room,” Changbin said, laughing slightly. “According to him, it is said that Prince Minho requested the bed for you too, so what did you do that peaked his interest?”

The pleasant surprise startled you. Your jaw dropped slightly and a breathy laugh escaped your mouth in response to his words. You had almost forgotten about the encounter you had with the two princes today, even the fact that you had asked Minho to get you out of maid duty and back into the kitchen flew from your mind because of how busy you had been trying to tug in the four corners of a bed sheet.

Your brows furrowed in thoughts then, a soft hum sounding at the back of your throat as you recalled the afternoon in your dusty little room. It couldn’t have been Minho who requested an extra bed for you, could it?

From what you remembered, Hyunjin was the one who reacted strongly to you and Felix only having one bed in your shared room. Besides, Minho already agreed to helping you with chef Park’s problem, he wouldn’t do more than what he was asked for. He didn’t have to.

If anyone was going to show you such generosity, it should be Hyunjin.

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes swirling with perplexity.

But he did suggest the idea of you and Felix sleeping on one bed. Perhaps he suddenly decided it wouldn’t be a good idea? And since he doesn’t have as much authority over how this palace wants to treat its servants, he asked Minho to be his spokesperson? Or you could be overanalyzing this; could you not humor the idea that the prince has decided to do two good deeds today?

Changbin was done pouring the egg fried rice into a bowl by the time you were almost done contemplating the true motif behind the extra bed. You were deep in your little world, your chin perched up on the heel of your palm and your eyes glaring at the table like you just stubbed your toe with it. He laughed to himself, wondering why a simple question required such serious thinking as he put the bowl in front of you.

“Hey!” He hushed as he tapped your nose with the hand tip of the spoon. When your eyes finally focused at him, he flashed you an amused smile. “What did you do, kid? You didn’t offend the prince, did you?”

You glared at him as he gestured towards the fried rice before you. Taking the spoon from his hand, you shook your head and stabbed the utensil in the food, mixing it around before shoving a spoonful in your mouth. It was then when you decided to respond to him, “Why would he send me an extra bed if I offended him, Changbin?”

“Hey, I’m just asking!” He flicked your forehead after washing his hands at the sink. “And please, heavens, [Name], eat with your mouth closed.”

The droplets flickered down your faced and you wiped them away with your hand, continuing to eat without muttering another word. Just as Changbin suspected, you were extremely hungry, and watching you stuff too much food in your cheeks was the only joy he experienced today.

He pulled out a stool from underneath the counter and sat down. His heart was clenching at the sight of you, eating freely with rice stuck to the corner of your mouth and spoon shamelessly clanking against the bowl. And he couldn’t tell if he was more remorseful or glad that he was able to be given a second chance as such.

Changbin has never told you his past before and he probably wouldn’t be able to tell you for sometime. He wondered how you would react to it. He wondered how you would react to him having a child outside the palace, one he wasn’t allowed to see because he chose the palace life instead of his past lover.

He regretted his choice, but back then choosing to work in a palace is a much reliable and stable job than anything else in his little town. He was young back then and it didn’t occur to him that there were other options open. The castle was the way for him and he just left.

Now his lover has moved on, his child has never met him before, and he has lost his title as a dad.

A father, yes, but certainly not a dad.

He was afraid you would realize how much he was projecting his guilt and reminiscence on you. Ever since you first got introduced to him, your childish and bratty antics kept growing on him until he found out how he was getting a taste of how it would be like to take care of a kid he never got to raise.

He hasn’t really stopped treating you like kin since then, even though he knew you’re not his child.

It was a battle with himself. For once, he couldn’t accurately guess how you would react to something, and he was scared that you could possibly be repulsed by it, so he kept putting off explaining whenever your curiosity strikes and you ask about his past. But he hoped he’d be able to come forth one day, and properly thank the lord for bringing you to him because he couldn’t imagine how much he’d still dwell in his past.

“Changbin! Stop being weird!” You finally yelled, kicking him under the table as you glared at him in mild concern. He had been staring at you eat, so intently you almost thought he was looking at the castle ghost behind you. “What the hell are you looking at? The air?”

“I was just thinking about something,” he responded in disbelief, surprised at your sudden toe. “Am I not allowed to think anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, you did,” you said, pointing at him with the spoon before bringing it to your bowl and scooping up a spoonful of rice. You stuffed it in your mouth before speaking, his previous scolding completely leaving your brain. “What are you thinking about?”

“How disgusting it is to speak with a mouthful of food.” Changbin smiled pointedly at you, causing you to groan out in annoyance.

And, like he suspected, your spiteful-self immediately started to shove your cheeks full of rice before you started rambling nonsense. He could barely understand your words, your voice completely muffled by the food in your cheeks and with your trying to speak without spilling anything. You looked goofy and ugly, and he could go on.

Your rebellious act came to a quick halt when a piece of rice rolled down your throat unexpectedly. You choked, feeling an itch in your throat that prompted you to cough like you were on your death bed.

Changbin burst into laughter as he watched your face go red. In the midst of you hitting your chest repeatedly, he asked, “Do you want some water?”

You threw the spoon at him, in which he blocked with one arm held up to his face. His laughter only increased while your coughs slowed down to a gentle trail, and he got off the stool so he could pour you a small cup of water. You quickly snatched the cup away from him, dunking down the liquid and sighing dramatically when you were finished.

You slammed the cup down on the table then, your head turning sharply to him as your eyes glazed over with an irritated burn. “I could have died.”

“But you didn’t.” Changbin shrugged. “I told you to eat with your mouth closed.”

“There is no correlation to me choking on food and me eating with my mouth closed,” you retorted as you jumped off the chair and went to grab yourself an extra spoon. “I can still choke on food even if I’m eating properly.”

“Really? Care to show me?”

You dropped the spoon in the bowl and smiled up at him. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You can do that after you finish the food,” he said, pointing at your bowl. “Come on, it shouldn’t be taking you this long to finish eating a small bowl of fried rice.”

“If you wanna go sleep, you can just leave,” you mentioned, giving him a light-hearted shrug to further prove the point that you didn’t really care much for company at the moment.

“And have you use it against me later? No thanks, you’re gonna say I left you alone in the kitchen or something,” he grumbled, leaning his head against his hand and scoffing.

You didn’t say anything this time as you’ve got food in your mouth, and you’d rather not repeat that embarrassing, hazardous incident once more. But you did roll your eyes at him, indirectly telling Changbin that he was being dramatic and that you would never do such a terrible thing.

(Except you would, and he knew that you would.)

The kitchen was rendered silent again. The only sound resonating across each corner was the faint noise of your teeth clicking against the wooden spoon and your occasional chewing noise. Changbin looked at you again, his gentle eyes grazing past your cheeks and your small hands. His mind flew back to his home, but he doesn’t really see the faces he used to see anymore.

Like kin, even though he knew you’re not his child–

He felt fine staying in the palace. And he was fine with taking care of you here.

–well, you were damn well the closest thing he has to one.

Chan could see you racing towards him from faraway. Trailing slowly behind you was Changbin, his hands holding onto two filled water buckets.

He kept his eyes on the mailman despite your speedy approach, his polite smile never fading as he patiently waited for the old man to take out all the letters—the ones addressed to the palace from the citizens—from his big, dirty pouch bag. He was the third of the many town mailman that would come by today with complaints or family letters, and Chan could recognize him well to the the mailman from your town.

He sure hoped there was something of your interest in that god forsaken bag today. More specially a family letter, one which you have been waiting for since the past two months.

“That is all for today. There is quite a lot to go through, I’m afraid.” The mailman’s hoarse voice gave Chan a gentle stung, it reminded him of his old man back home who had passed away without a last goodbye. He didn’t even realize the weight on his hands until he looked down to find his once empty basket to now be filled with envelopes.

“Thankfully, I only sort the letters,” Chan joked lightheartedly as he bowed to the mailman. “Court business is completely out of my field of specialty.”

“Well then, my regards to the crown prince,” the mailman said, dipping his hat with an old and trembling hand. “He is going to have to deal with an entire kingdom soon, and I sure do hope he will become a good king.”

Chan only flashed the mailman a purse-lipped smile. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to insinuate, and he had not the faintest idea whether the king and the palace council were doing a splendid job in running the kingdom. While they seemed to be satisfying the rich and the royal, he could not tell if they were also minding to the average and the poor.

He was only a butler. He has lived in the palace and enjoyed as much luxury his job status could give him for a long while. Whatever goes on outside the palace life, he wouldn’t know and neither would have the time to sit down and chat about it.

“I shall see you next week again, sir,” he replied with a polite bow. “Thank you for your delivery, once again.”

“Of course,” the mailman said, a hint of laughter evident in his voice. “There isn’t much clumsy old me can do but send some letters these days. Gives me something to do after my wife passed away, and I like seeing you kids run around working sometimes.”

Chan wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he smiled and he waited for the mailman to take his leave. He listened for the creaking of the folding step, the gentle whipping of a horse’s back, and finally the stuttering movement of those round wheels bringing the mailman back on its path to the palace gate.

His eyes trailed after the envelopes in the basket; another batch he has to go through so he could separate the complaint letters from the family mails sent to the staffs (royal letters are sent by designated palace messengers, not mailmen). The silver seals all sat prettily, some unevenly, on top of the white papers, and Chan could not help but admire them for a while.

That was, until your loud voice rang through his ears.

“Chan! Chan! Bang Chan!”

You bratty kid, why were you calling him by his full name again?

Calculating his timing just right, the second he stood up from his bowing position, he stretched his arm out before his chest and turned to the side. Your springing legs were forced to a quick stop as his the heel of his palm met your forehead, and you stumbled back when he lightly shoved at your head for you to back off.

“[Name], what did I say about addressing me by my full name?” He asked, exhausted from all the nagging you never listened to. “And you have to yell it this time? What if the king hears it? Do you understand how awkward it would be for me to have to explain the commotion to him?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed and completely uninterested in what he has to lecture you about palace manners. Changbin has done a great deal of that already, not that any of his warnings has helped in any way. “Oh, whatever, the king is old! He’s probably going deaf at this point!”

“[Name]!”

“No point talking to them, Chan. This kid never listens.” Changbin’s gruff voice appeared from behind you. He set down his water buckets, the ones the maid asked him to fill up using the water pump from outside the front yard, and he quickly whacked you across the head.

Ignoring your whines of curses, he looked at Chan dead in the eye then, something of a veteran father whose dealt with his child’s antics for too long and has become immune to them. “You gotta smack them.”

Chan widened his eyes. You seemed more agitated than before, your eyes glaring daggers and impossible profanity spilling out of your lips like a mantra. He met eyes with Changbin, who ignored you completely with a smile. The disbelief in Chan’s eyes almost made him laugh; Chan has only ever met you under the warm and comfortable atmosphere of the palace, of course he wouldn’t expect you to be such a vulgar child.

“For the record, I didn’t teach them this,” Changbin mentioned as he pointed at you, and you smacked his hand away with an annoyed groan. “Weeks of scraping cow shit at the barn taught them this, which, for the record–“ he turned to look at you before shifting his attention back to Chan,“–you should probably keep chef Park in check.”

Chan raised a brow, curious to the reason why Changbin felt the need to lower his voice, and to why he was asked to keep an eye out of chef Park. He knew almost every staff working in the palace; perhaps not in detail for every single one of them, but he remembered their names and their families. Chef Park has never come across as trouble to him before, he wondered why.

“I will,” he said dubiously, but he kept the thought in mind.

“Good.” Changbin flashed him a nod, and then he sighed. He reached down to lift up the water buckets again, a huff leaving his lips. “I’m gonna head back and hand these to the maids. I’ll meet you back in the kitchen, okay?”

You gave him a brief nod and an annoyed grumble, still quite mad that he decided to smack you across the head. Changbin scoffed out a faint smile before he turned away, leaving you to talk to Chan about what you needed to ask him for. Chan spared a short glance at Changbin’s back before he turned his attention back to you, his brows furrowing.

“Where did you two come from?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

You shrugged. “Outside the palace gate where the water pumps are.”

“And that’s a two person job?”

“Well, it… was…” you sheepishly twisted your feet against the ground, your fingers finding each other before your abdomen. A childish smile slowly graced your face and you looked to Chan hesitantly. “But then I got tired holding the bucket so–“

“You made Changbin hold them for you,” Chan muttered with a deadpan manner.

“Technically speaking, I didn’t make him do it,” you defended confidently, speaking in a factual tone. “I kept whining about how much my arms were hurting and then he decided to take my bucket to shut me up.”

He sighed then, his eyes rolling to the side as his head shook. Not in disbelief, that was something Changbin would totally do for you. It was in defeat in the wake that there was probably no winning for him in any sorts of situation.

“He should have smacked your head and told you to carry it yourself,” Chan commented.

“This is why I don’t like you that much,” you confessed, both honestly and as a joke.

“Oh sure, you don’t,” he announced to himself, his voice holding a hint of magnificence in them as if he was mocking his opponent in an argument. Shaking the basket in his hands, Chan glanced down at it with a smile before he looked back up at you. “I guess none of these letters are of any importance to you as well?”

“Hey, I didn’t say that!” You exclaimed as you leaned down to push at the edge of the basket until it hit the floor. Standing back up straight, you gave Chan a faint smile before you said, “I just want to see if my mom sent me a letter, since she hasn’t sent one in a long time.”

Chan hummed in thought, his eyes rolling skyward as he recalled the past months. He did remember handing you letters from your parents for a time period. It started with thick envelopes that would be delivered weekly, then as time passed by the letters became thinner with more time spaced out in between each reply. He couldn’t remember when you stopped receiving them, but he knew at some point, the reply stopped.

“I mean, I guess it was kind of my fault for not writing to my mom for almost a whole month once,” you mumbled to yourself, rubbing your hands together. “But that was a busy month for us. You would remember, right, when the duchess came to visit and we had a royal ball!”

That was the first time you were given the opportunity to make a plate of dessert on your own. Chef Park probably hated the idea of letting you in charge of a full plate of dessert, but the kitchen had needed to prepare a long table full of snacks for the ball, and there had not been enough pastry chefs to go around.

You had been instructed to make some sugary cookies for the ball, but with you being you, instead of making a boring plate of common dessert, you have decided to make honey jasmine macaroons instead. Not that sugary cookies are bad, but you would much love to bake something that could match the bubbly, extravagant atmosphere of a royal ball.

Long story short, your plate of macaroons was licked clean by the guests, but chef Park hadn’t factored that into consideration and simply scolded you for disobeying him. Sometimes you would like to think that he was simply being envious of your ability, hence the reason why he didn’t tell anybody about the people liking your macaroons.

After that day, you haven’t been able to bake for the royals on your own until the rosewater cream puffs.

“Oh, yeah, I do remember,” Chan said, nodding. “Did you stop writing to your mother after that?”

“Well, I stopped writing during the time the duchess was living here,” you replied, calculating the timeline in your head. “But after that month, it took me longer to bounce back to writing a letter, so I think it was a little more than a month. I did write her a letter eventually, but I haven’t heard anything from her after that letter.”

He hummed thoughtfully, understanding your situation but not being able to explain to you why you haven’t received a reply letter yet, because he had no idea either. The only thing he could do was to make suggestions, some kind of excuse like your letter getting lost or your mother being too busy with the flower shop. Or, even better, he could try and look through the new basket of letter and see if your mother had sent you one back.

Looking down at the basket, a frown slowly made its way to Chan’s face as his mind processed just how many letters were in the basket. It would take a long while for him to shift through all of them just to separate the letters for the court and those for the staffs. Then he would have to find the letter sent by your mother specifically before he could hand it to you.

He was still in the middle of going through the first basket, a process he would hope not to interrupt. He wouldn’t want to mess up the areas from which the letters came from, considering how the court solve the complaints from one town to another instead of doing so altogether. Therefore, just to eyeball how long it would take him to find out if there is a letter for you, it would take at least an hour.

“Well, I will make sure to keep an eye out for your letter,” he said, glancing back up at you.

“What–can’t I get it now?” You whined.

“Are you going to look through the whole pile now?” He asked, holding the basket up to you. “Because there are a lot of letters. You might accidentally skip through yours if you rummage through it, so it’s better to wait for me to pick them out and divide them first.”

You grumbled under your breath impatiently, your lips pursing into a hard line as your brows furrowed childishly. “Ahh, but how long is that going to take? I wanna know if my mom wrote me something so I won’t have to think about it!”

“I know, but I still have other work to do around the palace and this isn’t my only basket,” Chan said, his voice low in a coaxing way.

And he knew you understood how busy it could get for him around the palace. The unsatisfied expression that lingered on your face was just there for you to vent, it didn’t particularly mean anything and he didn’t have to take it to heart. Except he always does, not severely but having to see you get let down weekly for the past months has made him grow susceptible to your angsty features.

Softening, Chan let go on one side of the basket and he pinched your cheek gently. “I’m sorry, but I promise I will try and get through it all as fast as I can,” he told you, with all the sincerity in his voice.

“Hmm… Fine.” You pursed your lips together with a nod, leaning your face away from his hand. “I have to go back to work now, I’ll see you later.”

“You can count on it,” he said, his hand reaching back down to pick up the basket handle.

Flashing him a small smile, your legs brought you a few steps backward before you finally turned around and headed to the backyard. Your steps picked up, and Chan watched your back fade until you disappeared into the discreet corner of the palace. He looked down at the basket of letters then, his forehead creasing in a moment of thought.

Please be in there. He hoped. Please let your mother’s letter be in there.

You had planned to head straight back into the kitchen, but the sight of Changbin chatting with the maids by the laundry poles made you stop. With amusement, you found a spot under the shade of the old tree and you watched on, finding immense fascination in seeing the way he discreetly—almost discreetly—flirted back with the young maids.

Perhaps it was you who never paid enough attention. Granted, you didn’t get to see much of Changbin interacting with other people. Whenever you were present in the picture, he was always too busy trying to keep you in check, he’s got no time to really speak with others. It was a peculiar sight, one that you planned to tease him about when he decided to leave the backyard and head back to the kitchen soon.

As you turned, preparing to flee before he could see you looking with awful, stupid intentions, a hand tapped at your shoulder and you spun around. The smile that welcomed you was familiar, you just saw it this morning when you woke up, and you quickly returned it as Felix waved excitedly at you.

“Hey, Lix,” you greeted as you eyed him up and down, your brows slowly furrowing at the dirt stained on his cheeks. His shirt was wrinkled, which you didn’t notice this morning but you were sure it hadn’t been as bad as it looked now. “What have you been doing?”

“We went out to the forest to gather more woods for the next few weeks,” he replied after heaving a sigh, exhausted from all the labor work he’d done all morning. “The court prophet said something about a thunderstorm coming so we were asked to fetch more wood for fire, since we won’t be able to head out if the storm actually hits.”

“A thunderstorm,” you snorted, your eyes widening a fraction at such an absurd idea. Whatever would happen to the weather in the middle of a hot summer, a thunderstorm was the last thing you would have predicted. “I wonder why. The North star clashed against the moon, perhaps?”

“Oh, [Name], you know I’m not one for analysing the stars,” Felix laughed out, rubbing his rough hands together and reaching a hand up to swipe at his face. “But I don’t mind a thunderstorm, I won’t have to head outside for duty for once. You, though–“

“I’m not afraid of storms,” you cut him off quickly with a roll of your eyes.

You knew he would bring that night up. The thunderstorm approached during the middle of the night, when the palace has become quiet and empty. It was loud, and since the dormitory part of the palace was built differently—with lesser care, one could say—it made everything sound like they entered an echo chamber.

You weren’t terrified, but being away from the comfort of your own home and stuck sleeping on a foreign bed was nightmarish enough for you to be afraid of it that roaring night. Felix had awakened with the sound of whimpers, and he happily stayed up with you that night.

“The echos of the palace walls simply scared me too much last time, but I promise you I am not afraid of a little storm.” You said, slightly annoyed.

Felix could only laugh, his hand still furiously wiping at his cheek because he had no idea of knowing if he had gotten rid of the dirt. “Well, we’ll see when another one strikes us within these weeks,” he said.

“You will find your accusation incorrect,” you said as you reached up to swat his hand away. A frown adorned your face as you gently scrubbed off the black dirt on his freckled cheeks, a click of your tongue displaying your annoyance. “And for the love of god, bring a wet towel with you at all times.”

“But they’re heavy.”

“They’re clean and cool,” you said. “Good for wiping your face and good for the hot weather.”

Felix hummed in doubt, unsure if he was fully convinced to take an extra object with him to finish his duty. He didn’t much like the idea of having wet trails down his back, especially when he would be draping the towel over his shoulders instead of holding onto it. So he retorted with something that made you both frown and laugh.

It was an endearing frown, perhaps due to the laughter Hyunjin could almost hear from the other side of the yard where the grass field was. It was a spot far from where the chores were, but not far enough for the workings to be invisible to the eye. He and Minho sat under the tree, the shade covering most of their body besides their feet that poked out from the shadow.

Minho wanted to find a place to sit down and write his second love letter to Princess Rose, but when Hyunjin suggested for a trip to the garden, Minho only grimaced about the dullness of it. It was always the garden. He wanted somewhere else, a new place where he could get inspirations from.

Hyunjin wasn’t very sure what Minho thought could be inspiring about watching the palace staffs run around washing clothes and transporting woods, but alas, Minho sat down under the large tree and began tapping his pen on the parchment paper. He followed suit without much complaints. It wasn’t like he’s got anything better to do around the palace anyway. It was either he leave for his home, or he stays here and follows Minho around.

The letter Minho was writing has been blank for a while. He kept pressing the tip of his pen against it but never actually scribbled anything down. His mind short-circuits every time he is about to write something; just when he thinks his brain had thought of something worth-while, his heart tells him to hesitate.

Hyunjin was done persuading him that the letter would be nothing more than a mere draft, that he need not hold any fear. Pretend it like a diary and simply let his feelings flow, Hyunjin told Minho, but the advice was not taken with each huffs of heavy sigh leaving the prince’s mouth. And Hyunjin was quite tired of trying to rid Minho of his anxiety, so what he did was that he turned away from his frowning cousin.

The sight that welcomed him was you, almost immediately within the crowd of similarly dressed palace staffs. And he was happy to see you. You stood under the shade in your natural glory, as always, and you were grinning towards a direction Hyunjin couldn’t bother to tear his gaze away to check.

He was debating if he wanted to pull you out of work once again, just so he could spend some time to talk to you. He has the power to do that, and if he doesn’t then Minho certainly does. But whatever excuse was he supposed to give to get you out of the kitchen? He didn’t want to come off annoying. He was also too shy to drop hints that might indicate his fondness toward you.

He could think about something work related! Perhaps another dessert that he wanted to eat? He was very fond of those cream puffs you made, he would love to try out the other desserts.

The dreamy smile on his face was permanent for a long while until Felix showed up. His smile gradually faded as his eyes watched your friendly interaction, and his plump lips pursed into a thin line as a bitter taste dropped at the tip of his tongue.

Annoyed, and definitely jealous. Annoyed because he couldn’t blame Felix for being friends with you and he couldn’t blame you two for being close friends, jealous because, well, obviously because he has a majorly, royally problematic crush on you.

“Hey! Lover boy!”

Hyunjin slowly looked to his side. The nickname Minho just playfully gave him not settling on his good side whatsoever. He needn’t be reminded of how terrible his crush on you was going; not to mention he barely had any chance to begin with. His royal status was a screw-up from the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Minho stared at his cousin for a short while before he breathed out a defeated sigh. He had pretended to not notice Hyunjin’s infatuation for a long time. It all started with his unusually frequent visits to the palace; something Minho deemed solely because Hyunjin and his parents’ relationship was never the best. But things changed when he realized how observant he has become.

Hyunjin wouldn’t spare the palace halls another glance, so when he started to look around the corners as if searching for something, or someone, Minho’s suspicion started to raise as well. He didn’t know when he concluded that Hyunjin has fallen for somebody in the palace, he just knew he did. And it was only recently when he finally found out who the token staff was.

Those rosewater cream puffs really caught the boy by the throat.

“You like [Name],” Minho pointed out boldly.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and scoffed. He leaned his elbow on the knee of his crossed legs, putting his chin on top of his palm as he stared ahead at you. His mood went even more sour when he watched Changbin ruffle the both of your heads.

Jeez, make it look more like a family, why wouldn’t you? The scene looking exactly like you three were having the “Oh, hey, I brought my boyfriend home!” kind of conversation—ugh! He could shiver in annoyance just from thinking about it.

Hyunjin looked away from you, a huff brushing past his lips strongly as he spoke, “This pisses me off!”

“What pisses you off?”

“This! This stupid, invisible crown on my head!” He gestured towards his hair, his finger going in a circular motion. Then he shifted down to complain about his silky clothes, and his gold belt, and his cotton socks matched with leather shoes. He hated all of it, anything that labeled him as a prince he despised.

“Would you rather walk around in thin rags then?” Minho shrugged, smiling in amusement. His attention was focused on the letter in his hand. When he scribbled something down, he held it up to Hyunjin’s hand to stop him from replying. “What do you think about this?”

Hyunjin yelped, swatting Minho’s hand away before snatching the paper from his hand. He carefully glanced at the paper, rereading the sentence his cousin wrote at least three times before he grimaced with an honest answer. “Good, but change the structure, it doesn’t sound eloquent enough.”

“I was thinking maybe I can express the insanity I feel through incoherent sentence structures,” Minho hummed, receiving the letter just as Hyunjin huffed out a disapproving grunt.

“You’re not the person to pull that off,” Hyunjin commented.

“I’m not,” Minho dragged out in acceptance, running the pencil across the sentence before he placed the paper back on his knee. He twirled the pencil between his fingers, his brows furrowed, then he jumped back on the original topic. ��You know the materials they wear can’t keep you warm during winter, right?”

“They can’t–they can’t?” Hyunjin borderline yelled, the panic slightly bubbled up his head. He glared at Minho, his brows furrowed in concern. “Hello–what if they get sick? Do you guys at least distribute extra duvets?”

Minho didn’t answer his question. The sheer fact that Hyunjin has the capability to care and to question the treatment palace staffs receives was startling enough for him. It was not to say Hyunjin would be so heartless not to care about other people, he was a boy with a kind soul, but he also was not brought up to think too deeply about people unlike him.

He would give sympathy to those less fortunate than him, but his mind wouldn’t register the option the help if he wasn’t there to witness the problem himself.

“You know how much of a problem it is for you to like them, right?” Minho spoke, turning to look at the working maids. His eyes were careful as he scanned past them all, his head unable to name a single one of them but still could recognize a few faces he has seen multiple times before. “You and [Name]. It’s not an easy match. The royal court won’t allow this.”

Hyunjin pursed his lips together. His chest was burning at the truth, hating it with all the might his lean body could muster. “They don’t have to allow it. I doubt [Name] will develop any feelings for me anyway.”

“Oh? That’s an interesting view,” Minho said, widening his eyes at the letter. “Why so?”

Hyunjin sat in silence for a moment, his mind working to think up a reason. It was all tangled in his head; there wasn’t just one reason, there were plenty, as much as he hated to admit it. He didn’t know where he should start. Should he start from problems steaming from him, or problems steaming from everybody around you?

Just to name a few right off the bat: your statuses were different, he was born with royal blood while you were born as a commoner. Not only would royalties from all the neighbouring kingdoms give him the sting eye for falling in love with someone much lower than him, his parents and his relatives likely won’t allow it as well.

His bloodline was a huge, painful problem; an unbreaking stick in all of his relationships, platonic or romantic.

Now, setting his royal status aside, who was to say that you’d fall in love with him? Hyunjin knew he was good-looking since everyone around him told him that ever since growing up, and he’d like to believe he’s got enough charisma to charm the other equally rich, if not richer, marriage candidates from other kingdoms. But nobody has ever talked of his personality before.

Long story short, Hyunjin hasn’t done anything outstanding as a mere prince. Every charitable accomplishments were credited back to the king, as it should be because the king (and his council) regulates everything. He has taken no part in political or social management of his kingdom even though he was born as the crown prince.

What if he wasn’t good enough? How would he know if his personality was the type that would make people fall in love with him? He wouldn’t be able to tell. Even in royal marriage, almost everything was arranged or based on economic measures. Royalties don’t like each other for who they are, he learned that the hard way. And no one has ever told him he’s got a killer personality, at least not genuinely, he supposed.

You have told him he was charming, but you didn’t know him. He might not be somebody you would want to have around.

“I barely spend time with them,” Hyunjin replied casually after the spacious, panicking round of overthinking in his head. He licked his lower lip, discarded the thoughts in his head, and he picked himself up. “You can’t fall in love with people you’ve never spend time with. I would want to get to know the person more and more, just have them reveal everything to me as time goes.”

Because wouldn’t that be so nice? To reveal yourself to someone who’s willing to stay.

“Well, aren’t you a romantic,” Minho grinned out, finding amusement in the way Hyunjin seemed to be turning into some sappy, all knowing lover of the century just because he, too, has fallen in love with somebody.

And Hyunjin was always rolling his eyes and scoffing at Minho for being overdramatic about everything regarding the princess—the audacity.

Hyunjin could only scoff. The laugh he let out was sardonic at best because he didn’t know what other reaction he could have. How does one properly display defeat? Through what kind of expression could he use to show that he felt stupid for still letting himself fall even though he knew that the relationship would end in nothing, just nothing.

But it wasn’t like he had a choice. Hyunjin’s heart has always done what it wanted to do; if it wanted to fall in love, it would do so disregarding all types of circumstances. He was a boy who’s got his heart thrusted out for everyone, full and beating. He couldn’t change it, he just fell for you.

Hearing the lack of response from him, Minho turned away from the love letter in his hands and he glanced at Hyunjin briefly. There was this dazed look on his face, a blank but remorsefully thoughtful look. He could tell Hyunjin was beating himself up over liking a palace staff, one who didn’t even serve his own kingdom too!

Sympathy surfaced in Minho’s chest. He wondered how that felt. He wondered how it was like to fall in love with someone so blatantly out of your reach, someone who was accustomed to putting up a wall between yourselves due to the status quo, someone who your family and your subjects wouldn’t approve.

Minho wondered how it felt to fall in love with someone who could’t reciprocate the feeling for so many reasons, and despite all the power the crown holds, there is still nothing to be done.

It must be exhausting.

“I’ll support you two.”

Putting the paper and pen down to indicate that this would turn into a rather serious conversation. He sat up, crossed-legged with a confident smile as he watched you vanished into the palace with Changbin. Minho knew, subconsciously, that he still held certain ill-feeling towards what you’ve done to his love letter, albeit if was for his own sake. And he has to admit, he has known you for no more than a long, embarrassing conversation of you lecturing him about the topic of love.

But he was so sure, somehow, that you are definitely no so bad of a love interest for Hyunjin.

“What?” Hyunjin asked, staring at Minho with wide eyes.

Minho turned to him, the grinning softening on his face. “I said I’ll support you two. When I become king one day and I’m in power, I’ll publicly display my encouragement for you, seeing that you do successfully woo the brat in the future."

Hyunjin physically brightened at his words, finding solace in knowing that while knowing his romantic goals might be far-fetched, Minho stood with him instead of going against his wishes. It was nice to be able to get it all off his chest; having to hide that he was in love with a kitchen staff around the palace with watchful eyes and soundless walls was terrible. He’d hate to have the news spread all over the place.

Bringing his legs up to his chest, Hyunjin smiled ahead of him, watching the maids move around with laundries baskets in their hands. He scanned their faces, none of them able to reach your level of gracefulness when you walked and the brightness of your smile as you talked to others.

“I want to be able to fall in love with who I want to,” he said with a faint smile. “I want to be able to fall in love with [Name].”

Minho hummed, “You can. Didn’t you already?”

Hyunjin felt a sickening rush of affection consume his veins, the thought of you fulfilling his head. The butterfly, the cream puffs, the single leaf on his hair. His smile widened; Minho was right, he already did.

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fanficsandthings · 3 years

Text

Through the Years, Ch. 7

A George Weasley Fanfiction

A George Weasley x Slytherin reader story.

Each chapter shares events in one year of George and reader’s life together.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author’s note: i know i’m like 3 months late on posting this chapter, but i promise i haven't abandoned this fic.

Year 1, Year 2, Year 3, Year 4, Year 5, Year 6

Year 6, Part 2: Fireworks

The heavy rain soaked through your clothes as you made your way into King’s Cross. It had been raining hard since early that morning, and the heavy gloom that hung over London was starting to take hold in your chest. The events of two weeks prior were impossible to purge from your mind, and on days like this the memories slowly crept their way forward. You swore that green skull could illuminate the sky again at any moment, so instead, you forced yourself to think about other things.

You uncle and dad had been talking for weeks about an event happening at Hogwarts this year, but they wouldn’t give anything away. All you knew was that you needed a fancy dress, which you bought a week ago at a second hand store. It now sat in the bottom of your trunk, its intended use unknown to you for now.

You no longer needed the motivation to run through the brick wall that separated platforms 9 and 10, like you did in your first year. You and your father casually waited by the wall, wringing the water from your clothes, as you watched the muggles pass by. When all was clear, you casually leaned against it, disappearing suddenly to anyone who might’ve cared to notice.

The steam from the scarlet coloured engine filled the platform, the people rushing about looking more like ghosts than corporeal beings. You searched briefly for a family of redheads, but quickly gave up and turned your attention to the items you had brought with you.

You checked quickly on Minnie, whose carrier was concealed under your rain jacket on top of your trunk. She was dry, just a little perturbed at all the movement happening on the trip here.

“You packed the camcorder, right?” your father asked. “And the extra tapes?”

“Yes,” you told him, “they were the first things I packed.”

“And you’re sure you know how to use it?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure we went over it about 100 times.”

“I just don’t want you to get there and then not be able to capture anything,” he said, looking around at the people on the platform. He lowered his voice a bit to speak the next part. “It’s going to be a very fun year. I don’t want you to forget any of it.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Will you please stop being so secretive, and tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” he told you.

You were about to protest and beg for more information when three more people came through the platform portal. Ron, Hermione, and Harry appeared before you, squinting through the steam.

“Oh, look!” your dad cut you off, ignoring the annoyed look on your face. “Friends! Now, go get on the train with them. I might see you sooner than you think.”

You said a very quick goodbye before turning to the three newcomers. They were still looking through the steam, trying to orientate themselves before heading to the train. You snuck up as quietly as your trunk would allow, thankful that the train engine was letting off some noise.

“What’re you looking for?” you shouted, right in between Ron and Harry’s heads. It caused all three of them to jump; the owls in the cages they were holding hooted frantically as they got tossed around.

“Please don’t do that,” Hermione voiced as she clutched her chest.

“Sorry,” you said, smiling, “I couldn’t resist.” You turned your head to look at the brick wall briefly. “Where is..”

“Your boyfriend?” Ron butt in. He turned to Harry and made a fake gagging noise. Harry let out a laugh, amused at his friend’s actions.

“Right behind you,” a familiar voice said. You turned to see Charlie, Fred, and George. George was smiling brightly at you. “We just passed your dad on the other side of the barrier.”

“Charlie!” you exclaimed, giving him a quick hug. “I expected you to be back in Romania by now.”

“Do we even exist?” George whispered to Fred.

“Apparently not when Charlie’s around,” Fred answered.

You rolled your eyes as you turned to the twins. “I’m gonna see you two constantly for the next 10 months. I rarely see Charlie.”

“I took extended time off,” Charlie said, answering your question, “because I’ll be working a little extra in a couple of months.”

Ginny, Bill, and Mrs. Wealsey made their way through the wall behind the twins.

“Hello,” Mrs. Weasley greeted upon seeing you.

“Molly, it’s so good to see you. I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to see you at the Quidditch Cup,” you told her, giving her a hug.

“Quidditch isn’t really my thing, dear,” she informed you. “But I might get to see you all again soon.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said, pushing you back towards Fred and George.

“We should get going,” you said to the twins. “We need to find Lee and seats”

The twins said goodbye to their family, and you all headed off through the steam towards the train. You found Lee, who had already boarded and was saving a compartment for the three of you. You stuffed your trunks above the seats and put Millie’s carrier in the seat next to the door.

It was a weird feeling, purposefully sitting so close to George on the train; him next to the window and your head leaning on his shoulder so you could watch the countryside pass by. Really, it’s not like much had changed from being just friends to dating. You had always sat close to each other before, even holding hands when the situation allowed for it. Something seemed to change over the last couple months, though, and now you felt more comfortable than ever resting your head against George.

Maybe it was the fact that you could hold hands now without people whispering in the background and speculating about you. Or the fact that you could run your hands through his hair, which he had let grow a little longer over the summer, and not be worried about accidentally looking into his brown eyes and having to hide your embarrassment over the matter. You could freely count the freckles splattered across his face and name the constellations you made in them. Freckles that would always remind you of the falling snow on the night you first kissed.

At some point, you let Minnie out of her carrier, letting her roam freely around the compartment, careful to make sure the door was securely closed. She eventually found a comfy stop on the seat between Fred and Lee. You watched as she curled up into a ball, her tail carefully covering her eyes, as if to block out any light.

As the train rolled on and the rain outside got heavier, the windows fogged up, making it impossible to see outside. You turned your full attention to the conversation happening. Lee was talking about what he did over break, and brought up the Quidditch World Cup.

Your eyes moved briefly to the window, thinking you might see the bright green light shining through the rain. George saw your movement and squeezed your hand in reassurance, a small smile on his face. You smiled back at him, telling him that you’d be alright.

Lee mentioned that his father had been cheated out of money over a bet he made with Ludo Bagman at the Cup.

“That dirty little cheat!” Fred yelled at the mention of Bagman’s name, causing Minnie to startle beside him.

“He took our money, too,” George added on. “He paid us back in leprechaun gold.”

“That’s exactly what he did to my dad,” Lee said.

“You bet all the money you had saved, didn’t you?” you asked Fred and George.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed.

“We’ll have to find another way to open the shop now,” George said.

“I still have some money saved up,” you told them. “About 20 Galleons when converted from muggle money. It’s not much but maybe we could find something to invest it in.”

“We couldn’t ask you to give us your money,” Fred said.

“Yeah, I’m sure there’s other things you could use that money for, right? ” George inquired.

“Not really,” you told them. “I’ve always planned to help you with Weasley Wizard Wheezes one way or another. Whether that be through money or inventing inventory.”

“Oh,” George said rather quietly beside you. “Thank you.”

You leaned up and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. “Anything for you, Georgie.”

“And you know I’m always here to test out products,” Lee chimed in.

“Oh, speaking of which,” you voiced, “did you finish those Canary Creams in the last two weeks?”

“Not quite,” George told you. “There’s still some kinks to work out, but give us a few weeks and some of Snape’s potion supplies and we’ll get them done.”

“But!” Fred said, pulling a small, wrapped treat out of his pocket. “We did nail down the yellow hair color.”

“Now we have all the house colors down,” George finished.

“And I think we should take advantage of that,” you said with a grin. You grabbed the sweet from Fred’s hand. “This one’s yellow?” He nodded. “And you guys still have a beef against Cedric for winning the quidditch match last year?”

“We should’ve gotten a rematch,” all three of them said in unison.

“I know, I know,” you said, faking sympathy.

The rest of the train ride was spent slipping sweets into other student’s train compartments and hiding in the hallway until you heard a couple screams. Cedric didn’t really seem to mind too much; being more embarrassed of the attention his friends were giving him because of it, opposed to being mad. You did manage to slip a pink one into Draco’s compartment, but one of his oversized bodyguards ended up eating it instead.

You found Adrian Pucey, who was trying to rekindle your friendship a little bit. He had written to you over the summer a few times. You gave him a blue haired sweet just because you wanted to see if the color would look good on him. It really didn’t, as the Ravenclaw blue didn’t mix with his complexion very well. You made him promise to sit next to you at the welcome feast, and you’d reverse the effects then.

Overall, you were very happy to be going back to Hogwarts where you’d be able to hang out with your friends again.

-----------------

The term seemed to pass too quickly with all the Tournament excitement going on. You had been concerned for Harry ever since his name was pulled out of that blasted goblet, but ever since he won the first task, he seemed to be in a much better mood.

You had snuck out of the castle the night before the first task with Fred and George to meet up with Charlie. He had excitedly shown you the dragons they had brought from Romania, their fiery breaths keeping you warm in the cool November air. You had never seen creatures like this upclose before, and they intrigued you enough to think for just a moment that maybe you wouldn’t mind working in Romania with Charlie.

A month after that, you found Hogwarts covered in snow, the winter chill finally settling in the castle corridors. Fireplaces blazed in every room, warming you ever so slightly as you sat by them. The fireplace in your dorm room did little to help fight the cold of the Black Lake. Again, just like last year, you spent most of your nights in the Gryffindor common room, curled up next to George by their roaring fire.

Minnie took to spending her nights in George’s room. She seemed to be making friends with Crookshanks, as you would sometimes find them cuddled together in the common room.

At times you felt bad for the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Their carriage and ship didn’t seem like the warmest of homes. You’d look across the school grounds and see them covered in ice and snow, and it would send a shiver down your spine every time.

Christmas Eve came, and the entire school was filled with excitement over the Yule Ball the next day. You were excited too, but there was one more thing you needed to do before that day came.

You had told George to meet you in the Astronomy tower in his pajamas at 10pm on Christmas Eve, a surprise all planned out in your head. You had stolen the radio from the Slytherin common room for the night. It had taken you and Adrian over a week to figure out how to get muggle radio stations to play on it, but eventually you got past all the magical interference and were able to listen to muggle music for the first time in almost four months. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy The Weird Sisters, but sometimes you just missed the music your mum would listen to at home.

You set up your camcorder in one corner of the tower by the stairs, getting as much of the room in frame as you could. With no one else in the room to film, it would be the best shot you could get with the camera.

You met George at the base of the tower five minutes before 10, confusion etched on his face.

“I see you wore the pajamas with a little lion embroidered on them,” you teased him, reaching for his hand. “My cute little Gryffindor.”

He blushed at your words, but he took your hand nonetheless and let you lead him up the stairs.

“You’re literally wearing the same ones but with a snake embroidered,” George said.

“Hey, your mum made them, and I love them,” you told him. You squeezed his hand as you both laughed.

Music from the radio played softly from the top of the tower, a song that neither of you had heard before. When you reached the top of the stairs, you paused briefly to press the record button on the camera. This caused a confused look to make its way onto George’s face, but you reassured him that nothing harmful was going to happen.

You pulled him to the middle of the room, the chill from the winter night just barely reaching you. Pulling him close to you, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. George instinctively put his arms around your waste. You started to sway to the slow song coming from the radio.

“We haven’t been up here in a while,” George whispered.

“Not since fourth year when we flew right into the middle of Professor Sinistra’s nighttime class,” you said, laughing.

“Hey, we both expected her to have a midnight class that night,” George said, “not an 8pm class.”

“I didn’t even mind the detention we got from it,” you told him. “I was just happy that I beat you in the race up here.”

“I remember you cheating to beat me up here,” George said, wrinkling up his nose to tease you. “You and your old money Malfoy broom nearly knocked me into the castle wall.”

“All’s fair in love and war, Georgie,” you said. “I was just using the speed that broom gives me to its full potential.”

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d still be mad about it.” He leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. “I still can’t believe you finally let me kiss you a year ago now.”

“You can thank Charlie for that actually. He gave me a little pep talk before I came outside that night.” You rested your head against his chest, listening to him hum along to the music. “Do you know this song?”

“I’ve heard you play it before while you were at my house. I quite like it.”

You pulled yourself as close to George as possible, trying to absorb his body heat. You hadn’t really thought about the open balcony and the winter weather when you planned this out. You leaned against him and swayed with the song, only really listening to his heartbeat through his chest. When the song was over and a more upbeat one came on, you pulled away just enough to look at his face.

“Do you think Dumbledore really got The Weird Sisters to play tomorrow night,” you asked.

“I hope so,” he said with a small laugh. “It’s all everyone’s been talking about the past few days.”

“Speaking of the ball,” you started, “Did Fred ever ask that girl he likes to go with him?”

“He asked Angelina a few days ago,” George told you. You wrinkled up your face in confusion. “What? They’re going as friends.”

“But what about that Hufflepuff girl that he talks about constantly?” you asked. “I expected him to ask her, and I thought Lee and Angelina would go together.”

“Lee’s going with a Ravenclaw fifth year, actually,” he informed you. “One of Cho Chang’s friends. Cedric actually set them up.” He seemed to have a hard time admitting that Cedric could do something nice for someone. George and Fred really held a grudge when it came to quidditch.

“Cedric’s a good person, you know?” you said. “He wanted to have that rematch. But back to Fred; why is he being an idiot about his crush?”

“Because he is an idiot in general,” George said laughing. “He asked Angie just to prove to Ron that he had a date. He didn’t think it through.”

You let out a sigh. “He’ll never learn.”

The next song started with a familiar tune. “George, I think you’ll love this one!”

You pulled away from him and grabbed his hand. There was no rhythm to your dancing, but it was fun nonetheless. George left all his worries behind and danced with you, not caring that you two definitely looked like idiots. He did really like the song that was playing, and he enjoyed it even more knowing that you loved it.

You turned your camcorder off after that song, saving room on the tape for the next night too. You walked with George to the balcony, braving the cold to look over the snow covered grounds. Hogwarts really did look beautiful at this time of night. The moon reflected off the white snow and shone brightly over the Black Lake. The ship and the carriage looked like mere children’s toys from this far away.

You rested your head against George’s shoulder as you both leaned against the railing. “Thank you, George.”

“For what?” he asked.

“For being my best friend, I guess,” you said. “It means a lot to me to have someone like you in my life.”

“I’m glad I have you too,” He kissed the top of your head.

You moved your head to kiss him properly, his body heat warming your face as you leaned in. The smell of potions clung to his skin, as he had been working on new products the entire last week. You caught the scent of a rather sweet one, and breathed in deeply. You pulled away reluctantly, but the cold was getting to you and you needed to head inside.

George picked up the camera as you grabbed the radio, turning it off. You walked quietly down the stairs, hoping not to run into anyone at the bottom. He offered to walk you to your dorm, but you knew that Gryffindor tower was a lot closer than the dungeons, so you walked him there.

“Keep the camera for tomorrow,” you told him. “Record whatever mischief you get up to in the morning and then put it in the Great Hall.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He leaned in for one more kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hurried off down the hall as he climbed through the portrait hole. Sneaking down to the dungeons at this hour required a bit of stealth and luck, but you had done it enough to basically know the patrol schedules. You made it to the common room after only one near run in with a teacher, but you ducked behind a statue, just barely avoiding them.

There were a few students left in the common room, so you casually put the radio back in its spot on the table. Hopefully no one had missed it too much.

You made your way to your dorm room, opening the door quietly to not wake your roommates. The last embers of the fire were still burning in the fireplace, and they gave you just enough light to be able to see your way to your bed. The light from the moon didn’t reach this deep into the Black Lake when there was a layer of ice on top of it, so your windows remained pitch black.

You laid in bed, pulling the quilt from last Christmas as close to you as you could. You breathed in the earthy smell and let out a content sigh. Sleep found you easily that night, and your mind raced with dreams of what tomorrow might be like.

-----------------------------

The buzz and excitement in the air was contagious as everyone got ready before the ball. You had spent the morning in the common room with Adrian, trying to get him to tell you who he was going with, but he refused, saying that you’d find out in a few hours anyway.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” you asked, leaning forward and narrowing your eyes at him.

“Why does it matter so much?” he asked in return, ignoring the look you were giving him.

“Because I want a picture of us and our dates,” you said, “and if I don’t know who your date is, then I can’t force them to take the picture.”

“I promise you’ll get your picture,” he said. “I’m meeting up with him in front--”

You nearly sprang to your feet, but kept yourself in your chair when you saw the look of embarrassment on his face.

“So it’s not the seventh year Ravenclaw girl that has a crush on you,” you said, putting your hands over your mouth to think a bit. “I really thought it was her.”

Adrian looked flustered, his cheeks turning red. “What? No, no, she doesn’t have a crush on me.”

“She does,” you told him bluntly. “She asked me if you had a date about two weeks ago. I told her yes, but seeing as you won’t tell me who, I couldn’t give her more information.”

Adrian sank back into the couch, wishing this conversation would end. You looked at him, still thinking about who he could be going with.

“The Beauxbatons boy who wouldn’t stop staring at you on their first night here?” you pondered, but he remained quiet. “The fifth year Hufflepuff who ran into you in the hall last month? He’s cute and rather shy. I remember him apologizing profusely. I noticed him ducking his head away from you when we’d pass him in the hall after that.”

You watched him for a reaction that would give you a yes or no answer, but all you noticed was his face getting redder. Adrian never really talked about crushes and who he liked. This conversation about people who maybe liked him seemed to be a little much for him.

“Alright, one more guess,” you said, “and then I promise I’ll drop it until tonight.” He looked at you out of the corner of his eye. You took it as a sign to go on. “It’s not one of your dorm mates, is it? They’re rather all kinda assholes.”

You finally got a laugh out of him at that. “Absolutely not. I know them all way too well to ever want to go on a date with any of them.”

“Good, just checking to make sure you were still sane,” you said, standing up. “I’ll see you in a bit. Meet back here before we head up?” Adrian gave a small nod as you headed towards your dorm.

You got ready while the rest of your roommates chatted around you. The dress you had picked out just before the school year started hung from a hanger on your four poster bed. The purple fabric of it was accented nicely by some small gold details. You had added a little bit of magic to it over the past few months, making it more your own, rather than just a second hand find.

You found Adrian a few hours later, sitting in the same spot you had left him; his casual clothes now swapped out for dress robes, and his hair neatly styled.

“You look nice,” you told him, causing him to look up.

“Thanks.” He stood up, scratching the back of his neck. He looked at you, taking in your dress. “You look great. Did you get the sparks to work?”

“Yes!” you said excitedly, looking down at the gold details. “Technically not sparks, but you’ll see. Wait till George can see them too. Can you carry this?”

You handed him your disposable camera, and he quickly put it in his pocket. He held out his arm, and you easily linked yours in it. You headed out of the common room, ready to meet up with your dates.

Walking up the stairs from the dungeons, the first person you saw standing in front of the Great Hall was Ron in his interesting dress robes. He was staring angrily at two people as they walked into the hall. It took a second to realize the girl was Hermione, having never seen her with her hair done like that before. You recognized the boy as Viktor Krum when he turned to greet one of his friends as he walked past them.

Viktor’s friend turned in your direction, and his face lit up with a smile as he saw you and Adrian. You turned to Adrian, who was smiling just as brightly back at the Durmstrang boy.

“A Durmstrang boy?” you whispered to Adrian as you made your way over to him. The boy was tall, at least a few inches taller than Adrian, and his long dark hair hung to his shoulders. When he reached the two of you, he turned his attention to you and took your hand, kissing it softly. His green eyes looked into yours briefly.

“Adrian has talked a lot about you,” the boy said, dropping your hand. He looked back over at Adrian, the softest expression on both of their faces.

“This is Georgi,” Adrian introduced you. You looked at him, trying to hide your expression of slight shock.

This is exactly why he wouldn’t tell you the name of his date. He knew you would tease him about going to the ball with a boy who shared a name so similar to your boyfriend. In all honesty though, the two boys were almost nothing alike. Georgi seemed a little more subdued and quiet, opposed to George who, though quieter than his brother, was still too loud for his own good.

While making polite conversation with Adrian and his date, you were also trying to find the twins in the crowd of people. You noticed them coming down the stairs with Lee and Angelina, Lee soon hurrying off to find his date.

You nudged Adrian in the side and gestured towards the twins. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded at you, and you set off through the crowd.

“George!” you called as you ran up and hugged him. He and Fred were wearing matching outfits, probably passed down from their uncles to them.

“Hello.” George pulled you back from the hug, looking at you fully. “You’re beautiful.”

You ignored his statement, trying to hide the heat rising on your face. “Come on, I want you to meet Adrian’s date.” You looked at Fred and Angelina. “You too. I want a picture.” You pulled George’s hand, leading the group back through the crowd.

“You put the camcorder in the Great Hall, right?” you said over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” George confirmed. “About an hour ago. You’ll just need to hit record.”

Meeting up with Adrian again, you gestured to George, introducing him to the Durmstrang boy. “George, this is Georgi. Georgi, George. My boyfriend.”

They stared at each other for half a second before Fred butted in.

“Well, isn’t that fun,” he said with a grin.

You just grinned at Adrian, a smug look on your face.

You introduced Fred and Angelina and chatted for a bit before pulling another student over, who you knew was muggleborn, to take a picture of the six of you. Adrian nudged you and pointed to your dress. You looked down at it before realizing what he was suggesting.

“Oh,” you said, catching the attention of the group. “I almost forgot. I added a little magic to my dress. Adrian, do you mind doing the honors?”

He pointed his wand at your dress, and a translucent, almost invisible smoke came out of the end. Tendrils of smoke reached out, attaching themselves to the center of each little gold detail and then disappearing into the dress. Each gold detail began to shake, as if filled with an immense energy. Suddenly, the details exploded across the dress, mimicking fireworks to the best of their ability. After a moment, they settled into their original shape.

The group was staring at you, transfixed on what had just happened.

“I’ve never seen a spell like that before,” Georgi finally said, a look of wonder on his face.

“That’s because Adrian and I invented it, just for this,” you told him. You smiled as you looked over at Adrian. “We’ve been working on spells and such all of term in our free time. So far we only got the radio to work, and now this. This one isn’t perfect though. The smoke isn’t supposed to be there; it’s supposed to just be an immediate effect.”

George could tell that you were rambling now. He could see that your ramblings were bringing your excitement over the fantastic job you did down into doubt about how it didn’t work exactly how you wanted it to. He reached out and grabbed your hand.

“It was beautiful,” he said. He looked into your eyes, trying to bring your attention to only him, trying to calm you down. “You know I love fireworks. Maybe they could be a part of the uniform at our shop.”

You smiled at him, giving a small laugh. “That would be wonderful.”

You turned back to the group and noticed Angelina standing by herself, Fred nowhere in sight. “Where’s Fred gone off to?”

“He said he needed to talk to someone,” Angelina said, pointing towards the stairs that led towards the kitchens.

You turned, expecting to find Fred putting a firecracker in someone's robes, but instead found him trying to get the attention of the Hufflepuff girl. She was standing close to another Durmstrang boy, but looked rather uncomfortable at the whole situation. She kept trying to scoot closer to Cedric, but every time she did, the Durmstrang boy would scoot with her. Cedric said something to her before he took Cho by the hand and led her into the Hall. Fred called her name again, but she continued to ignore him, instead saying something to her date before they too walked to the Hall.

“Why didn’t he just ask her?” Angelina asked beside you. “I would’ve been fine going with someone else.”

“Because he’s an idiot,” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not wrong,” Angelina agreed.

The entrance hall was getting emptier as everyone filed into the Great Hall. You took this as the cue to follow suit. You stood in the large crowd, pressing play on your camcorder as the school champions were ushered to the dance floor. The dancing started, and George almost immediately pulled you to the dance floor as more people joined in.

The night went by quickly, but you would always be able to watch it back thanks to your camcorder, and look at pictures that you took.

Your favorite picture by far was one of Adrian squished in a hug between the twins, their red hair and gold vests standing out extravagantly against his all black outfit. Adrian and the twins were still not the best of friends, but over the past few months they had all agreed to try to get along for your sake. The twins liked to show their progress through aggressive acts of friendliness.

The videos were another story. They showed the night in motion and sound, something you were eternally thankful for. You could never give enough thanks to your dad for buying the camcorder for you.

The video of the school champions dancing showed Hermione being the happiest you had ever seen her. It was quickly interrupted by you laughing as George pulled you onto the dance floor, followed by Fred grabbing Angelina to dance with him. It even caught a bit of McGonagall dancing with Dumbledore, a surprising sight, as you had thought you would never see either of them dancing in your life.

You caught a video of Percy, zoomed way in on his grumpy face as he watched his ex-girlfriend dancing with someone else. Penelope looked happy with the boy she was dancing with though. You knew in a few years, hopefully, Percy would be able to laugh at his emotions too.

You got Fred and George pulling Percy, Ron, and Harry out of their seats as The Weird Sisters started to play. Ginny joined their group to dance with her brothers; the three excited Weasleys trying their best to dance the grumpiness out of the others. You set the camera down on a table, facing the group and ran to grab Adrian and Georgi. Passing Angelina and Alicia on the way back, you told them to come with you too. Your large group now took up much of the dance floor, but no one seemed to mind as you all jumped around to the song the band was playing.

The next video had the band playing a slower song in the background. The camera just sitting on a table, having been accidentally turned on by someone. It showed the Hufflepuff girl sitting at a table with Percy. They were talking, but the music drowned out any words that they were saying. Percy looked a little happier than he did earlier. Fred came into frame, sitting next to Percy, but putting his whole attention on the girl. She said a few short words to him, but when it was obvious she didn’t want to talk, he got up and walked towards the camera. He must have noticed it was on, because he mumbled a few words at it before the video cut off.

There was a short video of you and Adrian walking outside in front of the castle, lights sparkling around you. George and Fred were a few paces ahead of you, talking about something you couldn’t hear. Georgi had offered to record for a bit, even though he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. The video cut off abruptly when the camera was dropped.

The last video on the camera was George recording you as you were leaving the Hall for the night.

“How was your night,” he asked from behind the camera.

“I had a great night,” you told him, walking backwards. You were holding up your dress so you didn’t trip. “Better than some people.”

The camera panned over to Fred, who flicked it off. He had a smile on his face, though, so you knew he still had a wonderful time. George moved the camera to catch Angelina in frame.

“Did you still have a good time,” he asked her, “even though your date was kinda a drag?”

“I had a wonderful time,” Angelina said as she put her arms around Alicia and Katie, who were walking beside her. “I still had my best friends to lift the mood.”

“And what about you,” George turned so now he was walking backwards, camera pointed at Adrian and Georgi. They were walking hand in hand, Adrian’s head resting on Georgi’s shoulder.

“It was alright,” Adrian said, smiling up at his date. Georgi squeezed Adrian’s hand.

You had now reached the base of the stairs that led up to the Gryffindor common room. Everyone stopped walking to say their goodbyes.

“One more thing,” you said to the camera. “I wanna get my spell on record.” You grabbed out your wand and pointed it at your dress, setting the fireworks in motion.

“Beautiful, as always,” George hummed behind the camera. “I think this is where we part ways.” He took your hand in his. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight.”

The video stopped as you leaned in to kiss him.

#george weasley #george weasley fanfic #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x slytherin!reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #slytherin #slytherin reader #weasley twins #fred and george #fred and george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #through the years series #my writing

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volleychumps · 4 years

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I frfr forgot if I requested earlier but Getting matching tattoos with Kenma maybe reader getting a controller and Kenma getting a mic. Cuz both are famous ig like he’s a famous YouTuber and she’s a singer but there relationship is private but they are seen in public as friends so like ppl peep both tattoos and start speculating. And they accidentally get exposed when she comes on his stream not knowing he’s live

I love this concept?? So much?? And it’s my first Kenma single work???

The Secret (Kenma Kozume x Reader)

The one in which you’re a famous singer dating the pro-gamer on the down low and accidentally expose it to the public

Warning(s): like a TINGE of nsfw themes like super light

----------------------------------

“All done?”

“It’s rare to see that you are.”

You smile at the sight of your boyfriend leaning against the doorway of your in-home studio, humming contentedly as you slip your headphones off. As you turn off the recorder and fiddle with the buttons, Kenma approaches you tiredly, running a hand through his hair let loose out of it’s small bun. The red hoodie he was wearing was loose around his frame, the bags under his eyes signalling that the stream he had just finished up had been a long one as he unscrews the lid to a water bottle.

“I heard you from the other room. Real pretty voice.”

“Sure you weren’t scared your viewers would hear?” You tease, accepting the water as Kenma scoffs, rolling his eyes before you feel him approach you from the back.

“Can we not just bask in this rare moment of freedom we both have? Please?”

“You love gaming.” You protest, feeling Kenma push your hair to one side of your head to expose your neck.

“And you love singing, but it doesn’t make it any less tiring after hours on end.”

You turn off your ring light as Kenma’s arms droop lazily around your waist, the gamer digging his face into your neck tiredly while breathing against your skin. Your fingers find one of his hands resting around your middle, stroking the ink on the skin of the side of his thumb with butterflies in your stomach at the sight of the simplistic microphone inked on his skin.

“I still can’t believe we went through with it.” You whisper, feeling his lips curl a little against your skin.

“How’s yours healing up?” Kenma murmurs into your neck, lifting his head slightly to catch your own hand and examine the tattoo of the controller on yours. You wince a little bit when he rubs his thumb over it distractedly, the skin still risen a little bit from how fresh it is.

“Stinging. Yours?”

“The pain is worth it.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, turning to face him as Kenma clicks his tongue, murmuring something about how that wasn’t what he meant before you place a kiss on his temple sweetly.

“Dinner? We can order in.”

“Right. Like we can actually go out.” Kenma rolls his eyes as you nudge him slightly, feeling a twinge in your chest. The idea to keep it a secret had been your initial thought, but Kenma still agreed that the two of you needed to play your cards right for the sake of your careers.

“You know it would be a hassle if our viewers knew. And since when do you ever want to go out?”

“Have you not been on your phone? They’re already kind of on to us after someone digitally enhanced our recent photos to see our tattoos.” Kenma ignores your little jab at his indoor tendencies as he arches a brow.

“What?” You blink, a surge of panic rushing through your chest as you go to grab your phone. “Already-?”

“Hey.” Kenma tightens his hold on you, and you still as the setter places a quick kiss on the top of your head while attempting to ease your worries. “Let’s not freak out. Not now, at least. Just...hang with me?”

You relax, Kenma’s rare words of affection making the panic replace with warmth as you turn in his hold, arms wrapping around his middle tightly as his clasp at the small of your back. The scent of him fills your nose as you mumble into his chest, a wave of tired washing over you as Kenma hides a small, relaxed smile into your hair.

“Alright, love. Sushi okay?”

“Order me ramen.”

“Right! My viewers sent me in some apple pie, I almost forgot- Kenma, wait for me!”

“You should have said so sooner.”

-----------------------------------------

The TV was still blaring on some random episode of a netflix series when you wake up, Kenma’s hoodie hanging around your groggy figure as you wake up warm yet alone, tiredly sitting up to switch off the TV. You blink once, and then twice again before smiling to yourself.

Kenma had applied petroleum jelly to your tattoo for you, an open bottle of water already unscrewed and waiting on the clean living room table.

The plates from dinner had already been taken and now laid on the drying rack along with the apple pie neatly put away in it’s box next to it. You had to hand it to him, Kenma made it hard for you to be annoyed about waking up alone. Wiping your eyes with the loose sleeve of your boyfriend’s hoodie, you check the time only for your eyes to widen a little bit.

It was now nine in the morning, meaning that you had slept through the night without even realizing it. You sigh, going through your phone while still waking up before frowning at the influx of notifications and messages blowing up your device, the dms in particular being the most annoying.

Are you dating Kenma Kozume?!

Back off, hoe. He belongs to his fans.

Omg omg is my ship sailing??????

From: Asshole

Are you two lovebirds trying to get found out?

You narrow your eyes, shooting a text back.

-Kuroo, it’s too early for your bull.

Listen lovely, it’s never too early. And matching tattoos? He wouldn’t get any with me:((

-Wonder why.

I’VE BEEN SHOT-

You snort before stretching tiredly, putting your phone down and wandering into your spacious bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, a giddy feeling in your stomach at the fact that Kenma was supposed to finish up his live in less than twenty minutes. However, you stall, gaping at the mirror in disbelief.

A groan slips your lips as you raise a hand to your neck, eyeing the dark bruises littered up to your jaw as you hang your head and sigh. You couldn’t believe you had forgotten that Kenma had gotten a little carried away last night, your heated makeout session on the couch turning into a little something more, hence the hoodie you now adorned.

You blush as you begin to remember, shaking your head of such thoughts before tying your hair up. Oh well, nothing some concealer and color corrector wouldn’t fix- maybe a scarf or two. You begin to make breakfast after clambering into the kitchen, a nutritious breakfast of soup and fish with rice being carefully plated onto a tray almost half an hour later.

Hey, is Kenma done with his stream?

You sip some soup, tasting it as you type away on your phone.

-Should be, Kuroo- why?

Oh, his fans were blowing up his comments asking about you and I’ve never seen the poor boy so flustered. Hug him, will you?

-Bringing him breakfast now.

I’m so glad he met you:’)

-Buzz off:’)

You ignore the snarky response from Kuroo before lifting the tray, not even bothering to knock or say you were coming in as you push the door open to Kenma’s gaming room after ascending the stairs, figuring that the stream was supposed to end ten minutes ago-

And oh boy did you wish you had knocked.

You almost drop the tray, stilling at the sight of Kenma’s stream still ongoing, the cat-like boy pushing back from his monitor in shock as he whips his head to look at you from his gaming chair-

You, his hoodie draped hanging off your figure with no pants underneath, simply exposing your bare legs and your hair tied back messily, a tray of breakfast in your hand that signalled you had spent the night together-

and not to mention the hickies ever so evident on your neck.

“Y/N-”

You squeak, stepping out of the door and slamming it shut behind you just as Kenma’s comments explode across the monitor. You were in for it now.

The tray gets slowly lowered in front of the door before you make a mad dash to your shared bedroom, ignoring the now increased influx of notifications on your phone from Kenma’s hoodie pocket before throwing it across the room and face-planting onto your bed.

How could you have been so careless?

Heat tinges your eyes as you muffle a scream into the sheets.

What’s gonna happen now?

You flinch at the sound of someone else entering the room, refusing to look up from your spot as a familiar figure sits next to your teary one carefully. A feeling of guilt and wishing you could turn back time weighs on your chest as Kenma strokes a hand through your hair.

“Don’t panic.”

“Don’t panic?!” You sit up, Kenma eyeing you evenly as he watches frustrated tears brim your eyes. “I just walked into your live!”

“I know, I was there.”

“Kenma!” You whine, and surprise etches onto your features when Kenma stifles a laugh into his palm, looking off to the side before taking your hand in one of his carefully. The other one wipes moisture from your eyes as Kenma stops teasing you, looking at you seriously through golden irises.

“We’d have to let them know eventually, you do know that- right? Or did you want to keep us a secret forever?”

“I know, but...” You sniff, Kenma using his finger to tilt your chin up slightly to tilt his head.

“But?”

“I don’t want to...ruin your career.” You finish quietly, and you gasp when you suddenly find yourself on your back, Kenma now looking at you with a hard edge to his eyes as he stares down at you from his position on top.

“Well, isn’t this familiar-” your cracked voice tries to joke.

“Shut up.” Kenma rolls his eyes before leaning down so his nose is almost touching yours.

“Would I have gotten this ink permanently drawn onto my damn skin if I thought you’d ever ruin anything for me?”

At your loss of words, Kenma sighs before taking one of your relaxed hands- the one with the controller on it- and bringing the side of your thumb to his lips so he can mumble against it.

“And this? This tattoo of yours means that you’re mine. Didn’t we get these tattoos because we knew we’d reveal it anyway?”

“Kenma, you’re speaking too much calm down-”

“Y/N.”

You stop with your antics as Kenma’s voice softens, eyeing you seriously. “Don’t you...want to be together?”

“God, what kind of question is that?” You frown, lifting your hands to cup his face as you look up at his pretty features. “You know I do.”

“Then I’m happy you walked into my stream.” Kenma turns his head into your touch to kiss your palm. “Because now all those damn pretty boys in your dms know you’re taken.”

“Kenma, they saw hickies.”

“So?”

“I can’t with you.” You roll your eyes before releasing a breathy laugh, glancing at the phone screen from the floor across the room as it turns off and on, lighting your screen up with notifciations. “I’m taking it the press is eating this up?”

“Like a damn buffet.” Kenma sighs, lazily beginning to trace patters into your exposed thighs. “You know what I can eat up though?”

“The breakfast you stepped over on your way to pursue me?” You blink innocently, laughing when Kenma shoots you a tired stare.

“Sure. Let’s eat breakfast.”

“Kenma-” You begin to whine, only for your boyfriend to kiss your lips in a chaste manner, lips lifting ever so slightly when you blink doe-eyed up at him in response. The phones become ignored as Kenma throws his behind him, the press now forgotten as two phones now blow up beside one another.

His thumb strokes yours as the ink on both of your skin traces over one another, the slight sting of the tattoos unnoticeable as Kenma’s hands slide further up his hoodie.

“Use that pretty voice of yours and tell me what you want then, princess.”

“I’m starting to think you did this on purpose.” You murmur against his lips as Kenma scoffs in the midst of trailing kisses down your neck.

“There’s a reason my stream didn’t end when I told you it would, love.”

-------------------------------

General Work taglist: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @dreebbles @kasandrafaye @yams046

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu kenma #Kenma Kozume #haikyu kenma #KENMA #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu anime #haikyuu nekoma #nekoma

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gayaristocrat · 3 years

Text

I Got Everything I wanted...

Episode 1: Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience...

Pairing: Vision x Male Reader

Taglist: N/A

‼️Authors Note‼️: I'm finally at a point where I can write this story. I know that It is long overdue, so I hope this can make up for it. This story is going to be breaking the 4th wall a lot since they tend to do that in the actual show. Also, please let me know in my Inbox/Askbox if you would like to be tagged every time I upload a story to this series. While reading this, you may realize that it seems rushed, and that's because it was. I wanted to put this out as soon as I possibly could. Also since you guys voted that I just divide it up into parts for you to read. I will be uploading part 2 whenever I am able to.

Summary: (Male Name) and Vision struggle to conceal their powers during dinner with Vision's boss and his wife

Time Period: 1956 (So everything in this chapter is going to be colorless and in black and white)

Word count: 4k+

Word Key:

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Have you ever dreamed of living the life you always wanted? Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where you would do anything to get it. Have you ever dreamed of something so bad to the point where all of your care for others went out the window? Have you ever dreamed of wanting something so bad to the point where you would stop anyone who gets in your way.

"(Male Name), I love you so much. Please don't do this, cant you see that everyone is hurting, that everyone is in so much pain?"

"I'm sorry Vision, but I can't. I can't loose you...not again. I never meant for things to be this way, but now I can't go back. Not without you"

---REWIND MANY EPISODES BACK---

For a second, everything is black. The TV clicks on and a burst of grey static illuminates the screen. Everything is black and white, not a single drop of color is in the area. A happily little tune starts playing as a colorless 1956 Buick Special drives up a tiny hill and back down past a sign which says 'Speed Limit 35'. The camera angle changes to the back of the car, showing a banner above the license plate, 'Just Married'. Next, the camera cuts to us, (Male Name) and Vision, newlywed husbands.

It finally happened, we finally got married! Both of us turn take a quick look and smile at each other with nothing but love and glee, it seemed like nothing could go wrong in this moment.

🎵Oh~

A newlywed couple just moved into town,

A regular husband and husband,🎵

Vision turns his head back to the road and continues driving until we turn down a happy little neighborhood. Each house on the street has a pattern of different color greys with black roofs, their yards decorated with equally bland colorless flowers and grass. Children playing outside, and adults chatting with one another while they tend to their gardens, or while walking their dogs. Everyone is just so cheery and happy, even the mailman waves at us as we pass him. Everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, perfect.

🎵Who left the big city,

To find a quiet life,

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

Vision drives into the driveway of our new home. We quickly hop out of the car and approach the house, but before we walk in I take notice of the 'For Sale' sign still in the yard. I quickly flick my hand and use my magic to change the sign to 'Sold'. After that I dust my hands off with a proud smile on my face as Vision scoops me in his arms bridal style, opens the front door, and carries me inside. I flick my wrist again and the front door closes and locks as we both move to the Livingroom of our already decorated 2 story home.

🎵He's a magical boy,

In a small town locale

And a hubby who's part machine,

How will this duo fit in and pull through?🎵

Once Vision puts me back on my feet, we start swaying with the jingle playing in the background while title cards pop up of written words that I don't care to read right now since I'm too busy enjoying this happy moment with my new husband. Vision then gives me a little twirl before wrapping his arms around my waist as we both dip into a loving heartfelt kiss.

🎵Oh, by sharing a love,

Like you've never seen

(Male Name)Vision!🎵

---SCENE CHANGE---

The scene suddenly changes as the lights flick on and cameras start rolling. You start the scene off by walking into the kitchen and start making your way to one of the grey drawers next to the oven and you grab one of your favorite aprons. Humming a little tune, you wrap the white cloth around your waist and start observing the kitchen to see what needs to be picked up or cleaned. Deciding to work on putting up the dishes, you raise your hand and the newly cleaned plates start levitating off of the counters and float off to the display racks, you then raise your other hand and a dark colored dish cloth floats out of the cabinet and it begins drying a glass cup. You then turn your back to the cup to observe if it had been cleaned good enough, suddenly you jump as a loud crash echoes through out the kitchen. Turn to see what the problem is, you only to find Vision looking up from today's news paper and glances at the shattered plate at the ground while a laughing crown erupts out of nowhere.

"My husband and his flying saucers" He says in his thick English accent (or is it British🤔), with a joking tone.

"My husband and his indestructible head" I reply back in the same tone as another laugh erupts from the crowd.

He then folds his newspaper and walked over to your direction, giving you a kiss on the cheek when he arrived, causing you to chuckle while twirling your finger, making the plate form back to it's original round shape before it floats off to it's designated spot.

"Vision, honey, what do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orang juice and black coffee?" You say while walking over to the refrigerator, opening it and bending down, getting ready to grab out everything needed to make the meal for him.

"I'd say 'Oh, I don't eat food' " He says smiling at me, while the crown laughs again.

You look inside the fridge and hum to yourself in surprise while putting all the pieces together in your head before saying "Well, that explains the empty refrigerator then"

"(Male Name), my darling. Is there something special about today?"

"Well, I know the apron is a bit much dear, but I'm doing my best to blend in and have the 'Perfect House Husband' look." You say walking to meet him, assuming he's talking about the apron.

"No no, you don't have to try, you already are the perfect house husband." He says as he lightly grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and lightly giving you a 'boop' on the nose. "But I was referring to the calendar. Someone's drawn a heart right above today's date." You then looked at him as you cluelessly try to figure out what he's talking about, so he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you around to face the calendar behind you and he rests his chin on your head as you both look at the heart.

Trying to act like you know what day it is, you say "Well...d..dont tell me you've forgotten Vis?"

"Oh silly (y/n), I'm incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That's not an exaggeration. In fact, I'm even incapable of exaggeration" He rambles boastfully.

"Hmm, well then if that's true, then maybe you can tell me what's so important about today's date"

He pauses for a second and thinks before he blows a slow puff of air out of his mouth, then deciding on saying "Uhhh...what was the question again? Oh well, no matter, perhaps you've forgotten yourself"

"Me? Heavens, no, haha. I've been so looking forward to it."

You both have actually been looking forward to day. Today you are celebrating...The first time you...uhhh...have ever celebrated this occasion before. It's a special day indeed, perhaps an evening?...of great significance?...to you both, naturally.. obviously...exactly! Well done for the both of you.

You two ramble on for a few more minutes trying to drill the other into spilling on what was so special about today, but you two couldn't since you were both obviously unknowing about it, then Vision remembered something.

"Well, sorry darling, that's me off to work, then." Vison says fixing his grey suit jacket and grabbing his suitcase walking to the front door. You quickly grab his hat hanging on the coat rack and place it on his head, fixing it to make it look straight.

"Also don't forget-"

"(Male Name), my dear how many times do I have to tell you I don't forg- oh you mean my face right?"

You nod letting him know that was what you were getting at. The audience laughs again as he quickly shakes his head and his face and hands transform from cold metal to warm flesh. Vision then puts his palm to his face and pretends to blow you a kiss, while you play along and pretend to catch it and put it over your heart.

Once he leaves out the door, you lock it a return to the kitchen, and make your way to the calendar, chewing on your polished nails (if you don't want nail polish then skip that part) as you try to remember the symbolism of the heart. Not even a second later your thoughts get interrupted as a loud knock at the door startles you back to 'reality'.

Going to go see who it is, you push the door that separates the living room and the kitchen, closer to the knocking. You quickly open the door and see a woman with a dark plaid dress and a styled black hairdo holding a grey plant in a white pot.

"Oh hello, dear. I'm Agnes, your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours" She says in a sing-song tone as she uninvitedly makes her way into the house. The eruption of cackles echo as you look at her in confusion as to why she decided to step inside, but decided to keep a calm attitude and not say anything about it.

"Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town...so I wasn't!" she says laughing with the audience once more as her dress sways with her movements. She rushes the potted plant into your arms and you smile and take it as she makes her way into the living room to continue her snooping. "So what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly how's your bridge game, hon?" She says not loosing a single breath, and of course not giving you time to answer in between questions.

"Umm...Well I'm (Male Name)" You say reaching your hand out to shake hers

"(Male Name)? Charmed!" She joyfully says and returns the gesture.

"Golly, you sure do settle fast! Yes sir you did indeed! Did you use a moving company?"

"Why I sure did. Those boxes don't move themselves." The audience laughs as your inside joke, because let's be honest, the boxes did move themselves since you used your magic to decorate everything. (Damn (Male Name), you really are a powerful sum' bitch)

'"So (Male Name), what's a single boy like you doing rattling around this big house?" She says siting on the couch.

You laugh to yourself and dreamily look at the finger your ring should be on that Vision gave you to claim you as his, (He liked it so he put a ring on it.....sorry...anyways) but paused as it wasn't there. That's not right, because you could have sworn that it was there when you created this rea-

"Oh no, I'm not single I-"

"Well I don't see a ring

"Well I can promise you, I am indeed married...To a man. A human one and tall too! A a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion just the two of us." You say putting emphasis on 'occasion' with a wink.

"Oh is it somebody's birthday? A holiday?" Agnes questions bouncing up and down in the couch with her legs crossed like a 'proper lady'.

"Well, no and no"

"An anniversary then?"

"Ye-uhh...yes, Its our anniversary!" You shout, finally able to remember what that heart meant.

Agnes waves you over to come sit on the couch with her and you obey, sitting down she grabs and rests both sets of you two's clasped hands on your apron.

"Sooo...tell me, how many years" She asks letting out a little squeal.

"Well..uhhh..it...it uh feels like we've always been together"

"You lucky man-" She shakes her head remembering about her own husband "-the only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer names June 2nd." She chuckles as the audience laughs from nowhere again. "So what do you have planned?"

"How do you mean?" You questioned her. I mean you never really did have time to come up with anything since you just realized, or assumed, what today was.

"For your special night, (Male Name)! A young boy like yourself doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene. Say-" she says standing up to slowly make her way to the door "-I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called 'How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband', and let me tell you somethin'...what Ralph could really use is, 'How to Goose Your Wife So You Don't Loose Your Your Wife'. She kidd's as her and the audience laugh. You look at her and shake your head trying to hold back your own laughter. "Hang on, I'll go grab it and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!" She shouts running to the door so she can leave and run to her house.

-----Time Skip---

Both Agnes and you are back on the couch, looking through her magazines trying to find ideas for the anniversary dinner you planned for you and Vision to share, when out of nowhere, the phone started ringing interrupting you two. You got up and rushed over to it hoping you don't miss the unknown caller, you pick it up and put it to your ear and then start talking.

"Vision residence how may I help you"

"(Male Name), darling I-"

"Vision, my dearest husband. How are you sweetheart?" You say cutting him off from his obviously panicked and frantic voice. I mean come on, you are just excited to hear your husband's voice after a hours of him being gone.

"Listen about tonight-"

You cut him off again, already knowing that he was going to talk about the anniversary. "Don't worry, dear, I have everything under complete control"

"Oh, well, that is a relief. I must confess, I'm really rather nervous" He says over the phone.

"Nervous? Whatever for?" You question.

"Well, you know, darling, I still get a little tongue-tied."

The audience coo's and aww's at how a dust of grey creeps up on your (dark grey/grey) cheeks. "Vis, after all this time..." you giggle out.

"There's a lot riding on this (Male Name)! If tonight doesn't go just so, I think this could be the end.

'Wait what' you think to yourself

"Well, it's just one night. There's no need to get dramatic." You say in a worried tone as you grasp your now queasy stomach.

Vision's tone begins to get more serious as the conversation continues in his attempt to express how important this is to you. "Look, I think the best course of action is to impress the wife."

"Well, first, I think you mean husband. And secondly I also think the best course of action is to impress the other husband too." You look over and give Agnes a thumbs up and a wink in her direction, and she does the same while sipping her martini.

"Glad to know we're both on the same page, love. Until tonight, then, my sweet little husband" Vision says making two smooching noises through the phone to you.

"Until tonight...my robotic husband" You return, whispering the last part so Agnes doesn't hear you. She couldn't hear you anyways, being too busy sipping her drink and flipping through the pages. You finally gently put the phone on the hook and return to the couch.

---Time Skip, Later Tonight---

Before Vision made it home, you set the big dining table that was next to the living room and tossed colorless silk scarfs on all of the laps in the room to set the mood and made your way to the bedroom to get dressed to surprise him for when he gets home. When you heard the door open and heard his voice, you tip toed your way out of the bedroom and into the living room, dressed a long fluffy white lingerie robe with white fur that wrapped around the arms of it which was trailing behind you, exposing both of your (dark grey/grey) legs. You then went all the way to Vision's black silhouette and gently wrapped your hands around his eyes, causing him to jump form the sudden contact.

The audience laughed again as they know your mistake. 'Where the hell is that laughing coming from, and whey is it happening right now of all times?' you thought to yourself in confusion.

"Guess who~" you seductively whispered to your husbands.

Suddenly the lights turn on and you hear Vision's voice that was filled with a mix of shock, embarrassment, and irritation at your recklessness. "(MALE NAME) WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

You gasp and look in his direction. "Vision? What are you-" then it hit's you, if Vision is right there, then who's-

"Oh! Oh my stars, I'm so sorry!" You say to the man you mistook for your husband. You quickly uncover his eyes and stumble away from him as he stares at you in shock. Then you look down at your attire and try to cover your exposed leg as much as possible.

"What is the meaning of this!" The bald headed mad says appalled, as his wife stands behind him looking around cluelessly.

Vision interrupts with his stammering voice just as confused as everyone else. "Well..uh yeah (Male Name) what is the meaning of-" Suddenly it hits him and he tries to comes up with an excuse off the top of his head. "-Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it...and...the meaning of it is...that this is the tradition of (Random Foreign Country/Continent) greeting of hospitality. Uhh...guess who???" Vision says as he runs behind you and overs your eyes.

"Oh is that my host being me?" You say playing along.

"It certainly is, darling. Lovely to make your acquaintance" Vision says vigorously shaking your hand. "See i forgot to tell you my husband is from (Random Foreign Country/Continent)" he giggles along with the audience.

"Oh, how exotic!" The man's wife cheerfully laughs.

"I never knew such a place as that existed" He says in a dark yet serious tone.

"Oh hush Author, have you no culture. Oh and the robe, I absolutely love it!" His wife replies trying to lighten up the awkward mood.

"Thank you so much ma'am-" you march through the living room and snatch off the silk scarves from all the lamps and tightly grab Vision's hand. "-Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?"

You both then slam your way through the kitchen door and it swings closed behind you, leaving Vision's boss and his wife behind as they sit down on the couch and patiently (more like impatiently on Arthur's end) wait for your return. You then turn around and look at each other before throwing questions.

"Who are those people?!"

"What are you wearing!?"

"Why are they here?"

"What are you wearing!?" Vision questions again boldly

"Well, it's out anniversary, that's why I'm wearing this!"

"Our anniversary of what?" Vison says, desperate to know what the hell you were talking about. Eventually you had enough of these shenanigan's and throw the scarves down at his feet stomping your way to the kitchen chairs. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!" you exaggerate, crossing your arms and pouting like a child

"(Male Name), darling! That...that man through there is my boss Mr. Hart! And his dear lady wife Mrs. Hart! The heart on the calendar was an abbreviation!" Vision whispers, roughly tapping his hand on the black heart drawn on the dull colored calendar.

You grab your head and shake it trying to put everything together. "Vision sweetie, you move at the speed of sound and I can make a pen float through the air. Who. Needs. To. Abbreviate!?"

Vision grabs both of your shoulders in an attempt to collect his thoughts and calm you down. "Darling, listen, it's all romantic to do the candles, the music, that stunning outfit. I don't wanna be unappreciative, but right now-"

"Your boss and his wife are expecting a home-cooked meal. Correct?" Vision nods his head while muttering 'exactly' while look around the kitchen in order to find somethin to serve to the unwarned visitation of guests. After looking around for a but, your eyes land on the mini round table that held a plate and food on it. "Well, does your boss and his wife have a hunger for a single chocolate-covered strawberry, split three ways?" Vision hisses while clenching his fists and shaking his head no.

"Oh wait, I might have better ideas" Without hesitation you raise both of your sands and snap your fingers, magically changing your outfit to the one you were wearing earlier that day, a pair of dark high waisted cuffed slacks and a white blouse to match (you can change if you don't like), and the audience claps in astonishment at your transformation whilst you tie your apron in a bow behind your back. Vision gives you a quick peck on the cheek and runs back to the living room to keep others company while you figure out what to serve everyone.

---Time Skip---

After minutes of looking, you couldn't find anything in the kitchen, and the refrigerator was empty, so you decided to call your good neighbor Agnes to see if she could pick up some things from the store and bring it over. A couple of minutes pass and you finally hear a familiar knock on the back door in the kitchen. As soon as you open it Agnes rushes through with her hands full of groceries stacked to her chin as she stumbles through the kitchen. Before you could even mutter out a 'thank you' she stops you dead in your tracks and puts all the food down on the table. "Before you can say anything don't think about it. I mean, what kind of housewife would I be if I didn't have a gourmet meal for four just lying about the place. Not that Ralph wants to eat anything other than baked beans, which explains a lot about his personal appeal, mind you." The audience laughs one more at her silly humor as you quickly render to her aid to grab some of the groceries before they could fall. Unfortunately, it seems like the Universe was not on your side since the large cooking pot crashed and hit the ground, echoing throughout the kitchen, while Agnes yelled out an overexaggerated 'oh my'.

You had to get rid of Agnes and as quickly as you can, so you decided to just push her out the back door despite her protests to help you cook. "Thank you so much Agnes but I can take it from here-"

"Are you sure dear, many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip too!"

"Oh ahahaha, you are so naughty! But-"

"Oh, shall I preheat the oven then? hmm?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you for your time!"

Somehow she managed to escape your grasp on her waist and make her way back to the counter to crab some kitchen tools to start cooking for you. "Well, I know you're in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap." She says snapping her fingers before continuing her rambling. you run back over to her and snatch the utensils from her, setting them on the counter, and grabbing her arms to march her back to the door. "Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start. Chicken à la King with twice-cooked new potatoes for your second course, and Steak Diane with mint jellies for your main. Oh wait! Do you set your own jellies, dear?"

"Yes Agnes I do, now can you please-"

"Ah there you go, good boy! Recipe cards are all on the counter there. Bon Appétit!"

"Haha, yes will do, thank you so much again Agnes! Bye now!" You say slamming the door, making the audience laugh at your exhausted expression. Now that she's gone, you run to the middle of the kitchen and throw your arms around, making all of the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen fly open, the dishes start floating out, and the food starts cooking. Out of no where the doors to the island bar swoop open to show Mrs. Hart, but before she could see Vision distracts her by breaking out and singing Yackety Yack by The Coasters, causing her to break out into a little dance, making her way back to the couch. Dear gods and goddess', how lucky are you to have a savior like him.

But little did you know, that the night was only just beginning.

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Finish the fic? Leave a like and comment if you enjoyed it. Also, give it a reblog too! Once again, I'm so sorry it was rushed! Please don't be afraid to let me know if there are any typos or errors. I will go back and edit this

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Text

eros

n. a natural, passionate love; based in physical touch, such as a kiss to the back of a hand or to another’s lips

Words: 3.1k Relationship: Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker Tags: Pre-Archives, First Date, Alcohol, Ace Rings, Asexual Jonathan Sims, Kiss-Averse Jonathan Sims, Sex-Repulsed Jonathan Sims Warnings: internalized acephobia (throughout), mention of past acephobia (brief), fear of poor reaction to finding out a character is asexual (doesn’t actually occur), brief mention of unsafe food

|| Ao3 ||

In retrospect, Tim probably shouldn’t have begun their very first conversation on their very first date at the very nice bistro by the Thames (which he’d chosen because he’d panicked and picked the place that was the least likely to earn Jon’s disdainful expression) with, “I really, uh, like your ring?”

It had seemed innocuous enough. But from the way that Jon froze up, his eyes affixed to the menu in front of him with suddenly rapt attention, it was painfully apparent that somehow, somewhere, Tim had fucked up. It had barely been five minutes since they’d walked through the doors of the restaurant and their date had officially started, and he’d already managed to ruin it. God, it had taken him months—months—to work up the courage to ask Jon—beautiful, prickly, awkward, and completely oblivious Jon—out on a real, actual date—no, not a lunch date, not a coffee date, a would you like to get dinner with me date?—and he’d already somehow crossed a line he hadn’t known not to cross.

“Or, uh. Not?” Tim’s mouth says all on its own, which is worse, so much worse, just shut up Timothy Stoker. In an effort to do some—any—kind of damage control, Tim says, “Sorry, just- just forget I mentioned it. The, er. The mushroom ravioli here is good?”

Tim’s never had the mushroom ravioli. It just seemed like a good thing to say.

Fuck.

Jon still hasn’t said anything. One of his hands has gone to the shining gold ring holding the cream-colored fabric napkin neatly wrapped and is twisting it back and forth, like Tim usually sees him do with the black ring that sits on the middle finger of his right hand. The ring that Tim had seen ages ago, back when Jon had first joined Research, a stripe around the base of his finger that was fractionally darker than the skin around it. It was something he never took off, and Tim found his gaze going to it every time Jon would hand him a book or a file folder or a cup of coffee. He’s held Jon’s hand only once, and the ring had been cool against his fingers, worn smooth from how often Jon’s hands went to it during the day to twist it back and forth, an absent-minded motion done whenever Jon was stressed or anxious or nervous or just deep in thought.

Jon’s fingers twitch around the napkin ring, just for a moment, like they’re itching to reach for something else, before stilling, and now Tim just feels guilty. Before he can stop himself, he says, “I- I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Jon. I’ve just. I’ve always thought it was nice?” Oh god, stop talking, just stop—

“It looks good on you.”

Finally, Jon looks up from his menu, his eyes blown wide with surprise. “What?” he says, his voice just a touch rougher than normal, and Tim isn’t sure whether or not to find that incredibly concerning or incredibly hot.

Focus, Stoker.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, he supposes. So, with a shrug that’s meant to seem casual but really, really isn’t, Tim says, “I’ve always thought so. The way you fiddle with it sometimes, it’s- it’s, I don’t know, cute.”

“Cute?” Jon says, that same roughness scraping the edges of the word raw.

Fuck it. “Yes, Jon, cute. I asked you on a date because I think you’re cute and because I want to spend more time with you and because I like you. And I just- I don’t know, it just seemed like the ring was something special to you? Maybe should have gone for something like favorite movie first or something, but I already know a lot of that stuff, and I guess I just. Wanted to ask?”

Tim’s thrown all semblance of this being a put-together, normal date out the window. Not that anything has ever been normal, or easy for that matter, with Jonathan Sims. Still, he wants this to work. He wants it so goddamn bad he aches. So he bites his tongue, watches Jon’s face, and waits.

The waiter comes to their table suddenly and without any preamble, with quite possibly the worst timing ever. Tim has no idea what Jon orders. He just blurts out mushroom ravioli on instinct and orders a mid-priced bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon because if this conversation turns any more sideways, at least he’ll have wine to drown his sorrows in.

There’s a brief pause after the waiter leaves, during which Tim can’t help but notice that Jon’s hand has gone back to his ring, twisting it back and forth on his finger with what now seems like an intentional focus, a way to ground himself in the feeling of it against the pads of his fingers. Then, Jon lets out a small exhalation and says, “I’m… I’m not upset that you asked, Tim.”

Oh. Tim searches for something to say and comes up with nothing. Relief and confusion curl in his chest in equal measure, and he settles for just nodding, giving Jon what he hopes is an encouraging smile—though it feels decidedly more like a grimace than he’d like.

In the interim, the wine arrives at their table, their glasses filled by the waiter and the bottle set near the candle flickering in the center. The firelight refracts off the dark glass and Tim swears he can see it reflected in Jon’s eyes, a repeating reflection of flames in Jon’s pupils that goes on for eternity. Tim takes his glass, feeling the desperate need to have something in his hands, and takes a long sip of the wine. It’s nicely bitter on his tongue, briefly chasing away the salty, nervous taste that had filled his mouth.

Jon takes his own glass in hand and tilts it back and forth, watching the red liquid within swirl around and around. After a long moment, he says, “I wear it for a reason, and I… I suppose I’m afraid that you won’t care for that reason.”

What? Tim sets his glass down more heavily than he intends to and reaches across the table. When his hand meets Jon’s, Jon flinches ever so slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tim says, hastily retracting his hand. Before it can retreat more than a few inches, however, Jon shakes his head and reaches forward, grasping Tim’s hand firmly in his. His fingers are warm and dry against Tim’s, and the ring on his finger is cool to the touch where it presses against Tim’s palm.

“Please, don’t- don’t apologize.” Jon looks down at the table, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and worrying it for a moment before continuing, softly, “I just don’t want to mess this up before it’s even begun.”

Tim says, with more certainty than he’s ever felt about anything, “You aren’t going to.”

Jon sighs, exasperated. “Tim, you can’t possibly know that.”

“Yeah, I can. Because whatever horrible reaction you’re expecting from me isn’t going to happen. Unless your big secret is that you’re secretly a mass murderer, or- or that you’re only dating me to use me for some big master plan—neither of which seem likely explanations for the situation at hand—I’m not going to hate you for telling me. If you don’t want to, I won’t pressure you to, but I don’t want you to not do it because you think I’m going to like you any less for whatever it is. I’ve had a year and a half to pine over you, Jonathan Sims—believe me when I say that I want to be here, with you, more than I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life.”

Tim really hadn’t meant to say all that, but there it is, and he finds he really doesn’t regret any of it. Well, maybe the pining bit, if only to scrape back together at least a bit of his over-confident and charismatic reputation. Jon’s eyes are wide with shock again, and his mouth opens and closes a few times before he finally says, in a punched-out voice, “A year and a half?”

Oh. “Ah, yeah,” Tim says sheepishly, rubbing his free hand on the back of his neck. “Didn’t really think I was being all that subtle, but. Yeah.”

Jon looks scandalized. “Tim, that’s the entire time I’ve been in Research! This whole time, you’ve—”

He breaks off with a strangled noise, and if Tim squints, he thinks he can see the tips of Jon’s cheeks darkening, though that could just be the flicker of candlelight across his face. “You didn’t say anything,” Jon says finally, after several seconds of silence during which Tim decided to stop pretending like he’d ever been anything other than completely enamored with Jonathan Sims.

“Sure I did,” Tim says with a shrug and a sliver of a teasing smile. “Three days ago, when I asked you out to dinner. And now, of course, can’t forget that.”

“Tim!” Jon’s hand retreats from Tim’s and he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Christ, and I thought six months was a long time.”

“Six months?” Tim echoes, a wide grin splitting his face in two. “Wait, wait, have you been—”

“Tim—”

“—for six months?”

“Well, it’s better than a year and a half!” Jon snaps, taking his hand away from his nose and shooting Tim a glare that contains about as much heat as a block of ice.

Tim laughs and reaches for Jon’s hand again; when Jon sighs and allows him to take it, Tim runs a thumb along the back of it, feeling the smooth texture of Jon’s ring as his thumb passes over it. “Mm, perhaps I should have said something sooner,” he relents, his mouth still curved into a smile. “But I didn’t want to mess things up. I like you so fucking much, Jon, and right now, I can hardly think of anything in the world that could change that. All right?”

Jon’s staring at their hands, his forehead creased with lines of mild irritation. When he says, “All right,” there’s still a touch of petulance to it, but there’s something softer behind it as well. Something warmer.

“All right,” Tim repeats.

They talk about everything and nothing as the evening stretches on, and Tim doesn’t mention the ring. He can tell that Jon’s still thinking about it by the way that his hand goes to it every so often, twisting it around his finger as he talks about the proper types of grass for each climate and the fermentation process for the wine they’re drinking and the food safety protocols put in place to ensure that things like insect legs and metal shards don’t end up in their meals.

(“Ew,” Tim says, spitting his wine back out into his glass and giving Jon a look that he hopes fully communicates his disgust.

“Sorry,” Jon says with a wince. “Um. But it’s safe? Because of the protocols.”

Tim is not convinced.)

Despite all of that, the meal is lovely, and the tingling warmth the wine is sending throughout his body is lovely, and Jon is lovely. Tim can’t stop staring at him—at the few curls that have slipped loose from his braid and that now frame the sides of his face, at the crisp cut of the emerald green suit he’s wearing that Tim had almost made a joking remark about before he realized that he found it really, really hot, at the way that Jon’s nose wrinkles and his hand flies up to cover his lips when he laughs, like his joy is a secret to be kept hidden. Tim has to take another long drink of wine to keep himself from blurting out right then and there that he loves Jon; he doesn’t think that an hour into their first date is quite the right time to lay his entire heart bare.

They haggle over the check for an embarrassingly long time until Jon finally relents when Tim pulls out the a year and a half is a much longer time than six months, Jon, and also I asked you card. The night is cold and biting when they step out of the warmth of the bistro, and when Jon gives a full-body shiver as they’re walking to the tube station, Tim doesn’t think twice before shrugging off his coat and wrapping it around Jon’s shoulders.

“Tim, I can’t take this.”

“Oh? Seems to me like you already have it. Would probably be more trouble to give it back at this point.”

Jon looks at the ground sullenly, gripping the edges of Tim’s coat with thin-fingered hands and pulling it tightly around him. “Must you always be so- so chivalrous?” Jon mutters, like it’s somehow a crime now to be nice to people.

“Only on days that end with ‘y,’” Tim quips, and he wraps his arm around Jon’s shoulders. His fingers brush against the ring on Jon’s hand, settling there as they continue on their way.

Tim doesn’t really live near Jon, but he still walks with Jon to his flat, his left hand at some point having slipped into Jon’s right. The ring cuts gently into the flesh of Tim’s palm as they walk, and Tim wonders if Jon finds the pressure of it between their hands as grounding of a presence as Tim does. Then, they’re at the door to Jon’s flat, and Jon lets his hand slip from Tim’s as he fumbles for his keys, narrowly avoiding dropping Tim’s coat onto the ground as he catches it with one hand and retrieves his keys with the other.

“I…” Jon hesitates, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, before continuing, “I had a nice time tonight. I… that is to say, if… if you would like to do it again, I… I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Tim chuckles, a soft, quiet noise, and throws caution to the wind, placing a gentle hand on the side of Jon’s face and feeling the prickle of stubble against his palm. It draws a surprised, breathy noise from Jon’s mouth, and when Jon’s eyes find his, Tim sees in them those same nerves from before, when Tim had finally tripped his way into It looks good on you. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed either,” Tim says with an audible smile in his voice, running a thumb softly over the curve of Jon’s jaw.

Jon lets out another little noise, and all in a rush, Tim thinks, I want to kiss him.

So he takes a step closer to Jon, lets his eyes fall to Jon’s lips, and says, “Can I kiss you?”

The nervousness in Jon’s eyes multiplies tenfold, and in a quiet voice, like he’s admitting to something overwhelmingly tragic, he says, “Is it okay if I say no?”

Something sharp shoots through Tim’s chest at that, and he only recognizes it as concern after he’s taken a small, shuffling step back in some instinctual effort to give Jon more space. Tim can see a million thoughts flashing across Jon’s face, none of them good, so he says before Jon can think to- to apologize again or something, “Of course it’s okay, Jon.” He hesitates only a moment before allowing himself to give in to the confusion nagging beneath the concern (and ignoring the hurt below that) and saying, “Is… does this have something to do with the ring?”

Because Tim can put two and two together like any researcher worth his salt. And by the way Jon’s hand instinctively flies to his ring when Tim says it, he knows that he’s right. He just doesn’t know why.

“I said you wouldn’t like it,” Jon says quietly, and Tim’s heart breaks at the certainty in Jon’s voice. Even though Tim hasn’t said anything yet. Tim gets the horrible, sinking feeling that this has happened before and that whoever had been standing in his shoes then had not been nearly so kind.

“Jon,” Tim says firmly, his hand dropping from Jon’s face and finding Jon’s hand instead. He tangles their fingers together and squeezes tightly, hoping that the sensation will ground Jon enough that he’ll be able to hear what Tim has to say and that he’ll believe it. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to kiss me, then we don’t have to kiss.” He hesitates, only for a moment, before continuing carefully, “If you don’t want to do… any of that with me, that’s also okay.” He bites back the need to make a joke to dispel the awkwardness and says instead, straightforwardly, “Kissing, sex, all of that—I like them, sure, but I like you more, Jon. So if you don’t want to do any of that, then we don’t have to, okay?”

Jon’s hand is stiff in Tim’s, but his eyes when they meet Tim’s are wide and watery and full of a raw uncertainty, like he thinks that any moment Tim will admit that it’s all too much, that Jon isn’t enough, that it just isn’t working out. Whatever he sees reflected back in Tim’s eyes, however, is enough to cut through that uncertainty and leave behind something cautiously hopeful. “You… you really mean that,” Jon says, a strange sort of wonder in his voice, like a child staring up at a truly clear sky for the first time and witnessing the full scope of the stars above.

“I do,” Tim says resolutely, leaving absolutely no room for misunderstanding.

Jon looks down at where their hands are joined and says, quietly, “Okay.”

That same rushing, swelling feeling overtakes Tim in a tidal wave of affection, and he says, “Are hugs okay?”

Jon lets out a little huff. “Yes, Tim, of course hugs are—”

His sentence ends in a punched-out noise as Tim wraps him tightly in a hug, feeling Jon’s hair tickle the side of his neck and the rapid-fire hummingbird beating of Jon’s heart against his chest. “Good,” Tim says into Jon’s hair. He takes a chance and presses his lips to the crown of Jon’s head; from the way that Jon shivers and presses himself closer into Tim’s embrace, it was the correct choice. So he does it again, holding Jon close and trying to communicate with the press of his arms and the pressure of his lips against Jon’s hair just how much he wants this. How much he wants Jon.

“I really should get inside,” Jon says finally, his voice slightly muffled from where his face is buried in the fabric of Tim’s shirt. “It’s gotten to be quite late.”

“Mm, just give me a sec,” Tim mumbles into Jon’s hair, holding him a bit tighter to accentuate his point.

Jon’s laugh is light and breathy, rumbling against Tim’s chest like the purring of a cat. “Okay,” he says, his smile hidden by Tim’s shoulder. “Okay.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #aspecarchives #jontim #jonathan sims #tim stoker #asexual jonathan sims #sex-repulsed jonathan sims #kiss-averse jonathan sims #internalized acephobia //#my fic #my writing #i call the last two fics of aspec archives week 'jay goes absolutely feral' lmao #giving the gays everything they want--tender yearning for this one #and [REDACTED] for tomorrow's

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nessinborderland · 3 years

Text

Enemies With Benefits

Pairing: Niragi x Chishiya

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1770

Summary: Niragi has been wanting to do this for quite some time. Not that he would ever admit it, of course. Lucky for him, Chishiya wants him too.

Warnings: sex, anal sex, rough sex, alcohol

Notes: Inhra on AO3 asked: Hmm it can either be a thing where hatter decides the executives should get along better so he throws a vip party and chishiya and niragi get super high/drunk so they end up hooking up. (Bonus points if they play something like truth or dare). Or they get a fuck or die type of game. OR something much simpler where niragi just barges into chishiyas room, gun in hand and jumps on him. It doesn't have to be dub con, chishiya can be like oh you just had to ask djdjdj And bottom chishiya please. (Also bonus points if niragi is pierced down there and chishiya loves it)

“Your hair looks crusty as fuck, you know that?” Niragi shouts over the loud music, taking his fifth shot of vodka. Or at least he thinks it’s the fifth; after some time he kind of lost count. Not that he cares; he only agreed to come to this shitty party because Aguni told him so. He might as well just get drunk. He will regret it in the morning, but fuck that. “So fucking dry…is it even your hair?” He chuckles, “Are you wearing a wig? Oh my god, you are, aren’t ya!”

“Fuck you!” was the response from an equally drunk Chishiya, hand around his sixth margarita. “At least I wash my hair. Yours looks like it hasn’t touched water in months.”

“It’s hair gel, you idiot!” is Niragi’s response, before taking yet another sip of alcohol. “You can’t even style yours without breaking it so shut up!”

“What?” Chishiya says, leaning in Niragi’s direction. “I can’t hear you.”

“I said- oh, fuck it,” Niragi grunts as he stands up to sit next to the other man. They’re now closer than they ever were before. It’s probably just the alcohol talking, but Niragi kinda likes it. Also, is that perfume? It smells nice. “Okay, I said- wow-” Chishiya is looking at him with those cat eyes again. Now closer than ever and inebriated, Niragi wonders if his eyes were always that pretty. “You have pretty eyes.” the words are out before he can control himself. He freezes for a moment, before deciding that he doesn’t care what the other man thinks. They’re all drunk anyway.

Then they’re kissing each other. He has no idea how that came to be, but he’s not complaining. Not when he feels those soft lips on him, kissing and nibbling his lip. He’s soon pushing his tongue inside the other man’s mouth in a rough kiss, wanting to taste him. Chishiya moans as he does it, and he feels himself starting to get hard. God, he has been waiting to do this for so goddamn long. Not that he would ever admit it, but dreams where he fucks Chishiya until the man passes out are getting more and more frequent.

Time to make those dreams a reality.

“Let’s get out of here,” Niragi says. Chishiya nods, breaking the kiss before standing up and walking away like nothing happened. Niragi stays there for a moment, watching the man walk away in mild confusion, before standing up and following him out of the room.

They walk for a few minutes through the resort’s hallways, in the direction of his room. There are a few meters between them, and Chishiya leads the way like he knows exactly where he sleeps. The wait only makes Niragi more excited, head full of images from his sex dreams. He doesn’t even feel drunk anymore; not from alcohol, at least.

They finally get to their destination, and his hands are on Chishiya before they can even get totally inside the room. They make out against the room’s door for a few minutes, just feeling each other’s bodies. Niragi can’t keep his hands from wandering under the man’s jacket, nails grazing the soft skin right over his shorts. Chishiya is not shy in touching him either, hands curled in his hair as he grinds himself on Niragi’s thigh. Fuck, it feels good. If he knew that the annoying blond freak made him feel like this, he would’ve made a move on him sooner.

“Get on the bed,” he orders him with a lick to his neck. Chishiya moans before obeying, walking to the bed while pulling him by his shirt’s color. Niragi lets himself be guided, hands on his hips and mouth on his earlobe. Fuck, he does smell good. He pushes Chishiya onto the bed when they’re finally close enough, his chest to the man’s back. He immediately latches his lips back on his neck, filling him with hickeys.

Chishiya keeps moaning under him, saying his name from time to time. He never liked hearing him talk more. He unbuckles his pants in a swift movement, finally taking out his hard and sensitive cock. It twitches when he notices Chishiya looking at him over his shoulder, a smirk on his lips as he stares.

Niragi really, really wants to fuck him.

“Of course you have a piercing even there,” Chishiya says after a beat, those eyes staring right into his soul. “So, are you going to fuck me or not?” Oh, he’s going to fuck him, alright.

“Strip.” is all Niragi says before sitting on his bed, dick in his hand as he lightly strokes it. He watches as the man takes his clothes off one by one, agonizingly slow. But he allows it; Chishiya can tease him all he wants; Niragi will still be the one fucking the life out of him. He pulls the man to him when he’s done, wanting him close. He lets Chishiya strip him off his shirt, too occupied making a mess of the man’s chest. How the hell can a man have such soft skin? The feeling of him under his tongue is addicting.

“I want to ride you,” Chishiya says as he kisses his neck. “You can be dumb as fuck, but you do have a pretty cock.”

He would blush at his words if it wasn’t for the fact he was just insulted. Here he is, being annoying again. Niragi moans as Chishiya’s hand slide down to close around his shaft, thumb playing with the piercing on the tip. The man’s cock also brushes against his own, only adding to the pleasure. It makes him instantly forget about the backhanded compliment. He’s so hard it’s starting to hurt.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Niragi half-moans after another pleasurable pump of Chishiya’s soft hand. The man stops his movements to look at him, brow raised; there it is, that familiar look in his eyes. Oh no, he’s not going to let him guide this fuck session. “Do it, or I’ll just make you suck my dick and leave you with blue balls.”

“...Do it and I’ll find a way to make your life hell,” is all Chishiya says before obliging. Niragi smirks; he would like to see him try.

When he sees Chishiya like that, submissive to him, ass turned in his direction, waiting; is some different kind of high. One that makes his ego burst with pride; he’s really about to fuck the bastard that has been annoying him since he got here. He couldn’t be happier.

It takes him some time to prep him, but he finally sinks into the other man’s tight hole. It feels so good he has to control himself not to burst right there. Chishiya trembles under him, gasping as he sinks himself further in his ass. Fuck, fuck fuck, he has to move.

“Do you think you can take all of me?” he asks Chishiya with a light slap to his asscheek. The man chuckles before looking over his shoulder at Niragi, a smirk pulling on the corner of his lips.

“Please, you’re not that big,” he says.

Niragi knows he’s lying; but if that’s how he wants it, that’s how he’s going to get it. He thrusts further into him, making Chishiya gasp, jolting forward with a moan. Niragi wastes no time in starting to move at a fast pace, the obscene sounds of sex echoing in the room. It feels so warm and so tight so good. He regrets not fucking him earlier, he really does.

But he’s balls deep inside his ass right now, and that’s all that matters.

He ignores Chishiya’s cries of pleasure as he fucks him, shoving into him with as much force as he can. He wants it to hurt as much as he wants it to feel good. One of his hands has the man’s waist in a grip tight enough to leave a mark, while the other went under him to stroke his cock. He wasn’t planning on touching him like that, but he wants the control; that dominating feeling of being deep in his ass while having his dick in his hand. He owns Chishiya right now. The man is powerless under him; it’s exhilarating.

He feels Chishiya twitch in his hand, coming with a loud cry as he keeps thrusting into him. Niragi keeps fucking him through his orgasm, not even stopping when the man moans from the overload of sensations. His free hand goes to fist around his pale hair, and he’s surprised to find out that it’s actually softer than it looks. He’s coming not long after, teeth biting down on the man’s shoulder as he finishes inside him.

Niragi lets himself fall on top of Chishiya, not caring if he’s making the other man uncomfortable. He feels good against him, warm and sticky with sweat. He strangely likes it. They both regain their breaths, enjoying the rare moment of human contact.

Niragi finally pulls out after some time, making them both hiss from oversensitivity. He sits on the bed as he gets dressed, not wanting to look at Chishiya, still laying behind him. Now that it’s over and he’s no longer horny, realization starts downing on him. He really just fucked the person he considers his enemy. And he loved it. He wants to do it again.

He’s about to say something when his bedroom door opens. Last Boss stays frozen by the doorway, mouth agape and eyes wide. Their eyes lock and Niragi is sure the man is bright red under his face tattoos.

“Ahh, want to join us?” Chishiya asks in a seductive tone. Last Boss’ eyes get comically wider before he closes his mouth, closing the door with a bang. Niragi glances behind him to see the man laughing, shaking his head. “He’s a shy one, isn’t he?” he says before standing up with a grunt and starting to get dressed. He keeps talking before Niragi as a chance to. “You know, I didn’t think you were gay.”

“I am not.” Niragi says with a huff, “I like women.” Chishiya raises a brow, “I just have a… very particular taste in men.”

“Men like me?” Chishiya asks with a teasing smirk. Niragi wants to kiss him again.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself,” he says with an eye roll, “Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Chishiya huffs out a laugh, “We should do this again sometime.” he says over his shoulder before closing the door behind him, clearly not waiting for an answer.

Yeah, Niragi agrees, they should.

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #Niragi Suguru #chishiya shuntaro #niragi x chishiya #inhra #submission #one shot

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its-warm-in-here · 3 years

Text

Playing Pretend

I’m sorry I didn't get this up sooner. I gutted the end but here’s the first part of the first chapter of a Heisenberg x reader fic that will probably go on too long. This is more of a prolog. No smut yet! Written with a female reader in mind, but I may have versions for both m and f when the final product goes up. Gonna start out kinda fluffy before we get darker. Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated!

Summary: This summer trip to Romania was supposed to be momentous, life changing, and the bases for your master’s thesis. Too bad the villagers want you gone and this ‘Mother Miranda’ won't even see you. Luckily, you run into a greasy engineer who says he can help.

Karl tries to take a day off from being ‘Lord Heisenberg’ with the cute stranger who wandered into the village. Things only spiral from there.

~2080 words

Miranda loved the yearly festivals. She always made a big show of the village, flowers and banners everywhere. The townsfolk would bring out their best clothing, even if their best was still black and brown. The dreary village would come alive with drinking, dancing and merry making. Even some of the neighboring villages would join in the festivities. The town would be near bustling, the local tavern would be full, laughter and song would echo from the church to the castle.

He hated it. All of it. Heisenberg avoided the celebrations, instead opting to stay holed up in his factory as much as possible. And it wasn't just because of the excess of people, while that didn't help. No, it was an insidious purpose for these gatherings. He exhaled a ring of cigar smoke.

First, boost morale through the village and reaffirm the people's faith in Mother Miranda. Second, and far more insidious, was to widen the flock, to expand her influence and bring in new blood for her experiments. The surrounding towns were just as small and removed from the rest of the world as Miranda's village. Made it easy to bring new blood under her wing. Youth would meet and marry, a drunk or four would go missing, and some of the visitors would become new members of Miranda's community. More meat for her Cadou grinder.

Heisenberg flicked the ash from his cigar and watched it float down before the wind caught it. The early morning view from the top of his factory wasn't bad. It was his own part of the world: no view of the village, the stench of the reservoir was nonexistent, and the most he could see of Castle Dimitrescu was a massive wall keeping their territory separated. Just him and his machines. He took another puff. As much as he planned to avoid today, Heisenberg knew that he would have to make at least some appearance. All the Lords did, even if it was just for a moment. Just another way to show her power; having all of her ‘children’ before the townsfolk. He grimaced at the thought. Târgul de Fete was set to start soon. At least that gave him the morning to get shit done. Heisenberg kicked a bit of metal scrap off the roof and it bounced off the scrap heap below with a ping! before landing in the dirt. He rolled his shoulder. Time to get to work.

---

"Well fuck you too!" You slammed the door behind you. Why even bother going through the proper channels? No matter what, they turn you down, tell you to leave and treat you like an outcast. You spoke to towns folk, to village leaders, hell, you even wanted an audience with their 'Mother Miranda,' but she refused to even see you! You stormed along the path and the few people that had not made their way to the Târgul de Fete celebration steered clear of you, opting to give you a side eye and shuffle to their destination. All you wanted was to observe their festival, and maybe take a few pictures, but even that was negotiable. You had even offered to leave your camera behind with them for the day. Why hadn't you gone to Sweden with the rest of your class? No, instead you went to some culty, backwater town in Romania!

You kicked a rock, hard, sending it flying into the tall grass. "God Damnit!" This was supposed to have been your thesis! Supposed to be life changing! No, now you were just stuck, miles from any true civilization and being kicked out of some stupid, ramshackle heap, whose plants can't even grow right in a Romanian summer. Some of the plants were barely green, most appeared dry or yellowing. The flowers were either wilted and falling apart or hadn't even bloomed. You were no botanist, but you were certain that wasn't healthy.

You kicked another rock, it soared through the grass, but it struck something metal this time before landing with a thud. They didn't want you here, didn't want you at Târgul de Fete? Fine, but they didn't take your camera. Without thinking, you dug the old DSLR out of your bag and snapped a picture of the church.

And immediately deleted it.

You signed. Even if the villagers were a bunch of jackasses, this was their culture and they made it very clear that you were not welcome. Even if they had agreed to all this three months ago. And even if they had called you a bad omen, a poison and a danger to the whole village. You weren't about to infringe. Crestfallen, you huffed your bag over your shoulder and began the trek back out of town. It was at least a four hour walk to your rental car and a good chunk of that walk was more of a hike. Not like there was much you could do other than leave after cussing out the town speakers and nearly slamming the door off its hinges.

The village had felt abandoned when you walked in, and now that everyone had headed off to a celebration, the village was positively desolate. No traditional brightly-colored dresses or intricate belts to be seen. And no wary or hostile glares from the inhabitants either. It was... quiet. Aside from the occasional crow, you might as well have been in a ghost town. It took you a bit to find the correct path out of the grave yard, but after spinning in circles for a good moment, you pushed past a red door and were back on your way. The village wasn't large, most of the paths were poorly maintained and the whole place was enveloped in a strange fish smell.

You bit the inside of your cheek. This was a good thing, really. Who would've wanted to stay in the ramshackle place for more than a few hours, let alone a few days? You groaned and kicked at the ground again. While not lacking in repellent attributes, the pagan worship of the place fascinated you. They had their own religion but had incorporated traditional Romania holidays into their culture. Where else in Europe could you see that happen in real time? Of course, you could think of a couple of places, but you had picked here in the Carpathian mountains in particular! While you did have a second choice, you couldn't stop the self pity from setting in.

Ugh.

The village was relatively small and was quickly fading to forest, the castle that overlooked the town vanished behind you as you shuffled down a particularly steep part of the path. The trees here looked more normal, less sickly. While it was only marginally, you felt a bit better, a bit less mad. Stepping away from that place was a breath of fresh air.

Your boots skid a bit as you reach a flat spot. With a huff, you grip both backpack straps to center yourself. If this couldn't be your thesis, that didn't mean you had to hate the walk. This was Romania afterall, when was the next time you were going to be here? The sky may be overcast, but it sort of added to the eerie charm of this place. You sidestepped your way down another steep incline, using one hand to grip overgrown branches for balance. The last step is a bit further, but you find your footing easily.

And the rock gave way under you, tilting forward with an abrupt grinding sound. A burst of panicked adrenaline rushed through as you struggled to stop. You pitch forward, stumbling over branches and underbrush, your eyes forcibly losing focus.

"The fuck?"

That wasn't your voice. You slammed full force into something, another body? And it gives under you. The other person takes the brunt of the fall, landing on their back with a distinct, "oof."

For a moment, you don't speak, too focused on catching the breath. Finally, your vision swims back and you find your voice, "Damnit... are you ok?"

The man under you goans, sitting half way up to look you over. His hair is grey, and a bit too long, but he couldn't be any older than forty, possibly younger. "Get off." Your eyes go wide and that panicked beat fills your chest. "Ya deaf? Off."

"Er, right," you scramble to your feet and, without thinking, extend a hand to the stranger, "Sorry about... that." You gestured vaguely to the path. "Lost my balance."

He lets out an exasperated huff, and knocks your hand away. For a moment, he doesn't acknowledge you, instead retrieving something from the grass behind him. He's wearing a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up with black leather gloves. You force yourself to look somewhere, anywhere else, nervously bouncing from foot to foot. When he turns back to you, he has a tattered, wide brim hat in place and is looking over a pair of broken sunglasses. One of the lenses was clearly shattered, but he hooked them over his shirt collar, his attention finally turning to you. "You're not from around here, huh?”

You couldn't help but snort, "What gave it away, the wind breaker? Don't worry, I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" He repeats.

You start moving back to the path. "Yup, your village speaker has made that very clear."

"They were clear? Not all back and forth on it?" He chuckles, "That's impressive, they must really not like you."

You stare at him, was this a friendly face? It was certainly a handsome face, even with scarring and stubble. But a trustworthy one? "You sure you're ok? Didn't scramble that brain when I ran into you? The rest of the town was pretty dead set on driving me out."

" 'Cause they're a bunch of morons, sweetheart," he insisted, "All part of Mother Miranda's big, idiot mob."

"Huh," you are walking ahead on the path, and he's not but a footfall behind you.

"But they don't matter."

"No?"

"What matters is, why didn't they want you here?"

You stop, turning to face this stranger. He was gruff, and more than a little rude, but in comparison to the townsfolk, he was downright friendly. Hell, you were surprised he was so forward with you. "Masters thesis," you put plainly, hoping he'll leave it at that.

"On what?"

"Anthropology."

He leaned in close. He wasn't that much taller than you, but you couldn't help but move away from his imposing figure. From this distance, you could smell motor oil and some kind of smoke on his clothes. "That's it?" You scoff, the sooner you are back in your car the better. "I just mean, it's surprising they'd want you gone. You sure there's nothing else? Didn't kick over any goat statues?"

"Not that I noticed," you started back down the path. You'd wasted too much time talking to this weirdo anyway. Just based on his demeanor and dislike of the rest of the village, you wonder if you'd maybe tripped over the town pariah. He certainly wasn't dressed like anyone else from the village.

"I could get you back in."

You stopped, not fifteen feet from him. "You're assuming I want to go back in." And didn’t you? You just risk getting yelled at again. But if there was a chance to write your thesis...

“Well, if you're not interested,” he turned to leave. You grit your teeth, your nails digging deep into your backpack straps.

“Hold up!" It doesn't take much to catch up to him. "How exactly are we going to do this?"

"My word carries a certain amount of weight," he carried on, "Though, the village doesn't meet on these matters till next week."

"But what good does that-"

He isn't listening, "For today, I know a place you can watch the town. Besides, you're an Archeologist, you probably want an interview, right?" Of course he gestures to himself with a sort of half bow.

You roll your eyes, but still follow, "Anthropologist." He gives you a blank look. "I'm studying Anthropology, not Archeology."

He doesn't seem to care, instead pulling a cigar and lighter from his pants pocket. "Got a name?"

"Oh, (y/n). You?"

The stranger is part way up on the path you had tripped down. "Karl," he had extended you a gloved hand. You look from him to his hand, before brushing past him, pulling yourself up next to him without the offered aid.

#Karl Heisenberg #Re8 #re8 heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #Ill keep this going as long as i can #wow creativity is hard #karl can be nice if he tries

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 3 years

Text

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 15

A/N: Phew this was a long ass chapter to write! Feedback is greatly appreciated lovelies! That way I know I’m doing this right. 😂 I hope you all have a lovely day! Mwah!

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, blood, scars, brief mention of past trauma and torture

The world seemed dimmer as you sat there on the ground with your back leaned against the metal container, your hand clutched to your aching side from where the bullet had managed to pierce your skin. The bottom of your shirt was soaked with your ichor as you groaned from the sharp pain, your breathing uneven as you looked up to the skies. This had never happened to you before, this wasn’t supposed to happen. With tear stained cheeks, your thoughts focused on your daughter Athena. You couldn’t die, not now. Not when you have your daughter waiting at home for you, no matter how much you wanted to see your family and your beloved violinist. After all the years of heartbreak and wishing to be just as mortal as everyone else, your daughter was the only thing that added color to your life, gave you hope and had you looking forward to the future. No, you were not going to die. You weren’t going to leave your daughter alone in this cold world the same way you were left alone. You were going to be there for her, raise her and watch her grow up. Watch her go to school and graduate, then live out her dreams and aspirations. You absolutely refused to die.

“Gods please.” You choked out, squeezing your eyes shut against the tears that flowed down your cheeks. “Mother, father, uncle, if you can hear me. Wherever you may be resting. Please, not now.” For the first time in many years, you felt like a child, scared and hurt, only this time you were alone, not a single member of your family left that you could turn to.

Lifting up your shirt with a hiss, you stared at the wound right below your rib cage off to the side of your stomach, blood pouring out of the bullet hole with each slight movement. “Fuckin shit. Fuck!” You knocked your head back against the metal container. Sooner or later the guys would be worried about your absence and would come looking for you, and you did not want them to find you like this. If only you could remember the damn healing spell or had any of your healing herbs with you. Ripping off the inner lining of your leather jacket, you tied the strip of fabric around your midsection, tightening it to stop the bleeding until you got somewhere where you could fully tend to the wound. With a deep breath you pushed yourself off the floor with a pained grunt, still leaning against the container for support as you zipped up your leather jacket to hide your soaked shirt. Your vision became blurry from the movement as you straightened up and cleaned your hands off, putting away your sword in your bag before starting to head off to find the guys, each step making you more exhausted than the last. But you kept your posture and pushed through, refusing to succumb to defeat. You turned the corner and a small load was taken off your shoulders, relieved to have found the group safe and without an injury. Thank the gods.

“Y/n!” Sam rushed towards you once he saw you heading in their direction. “Where were you? You nearly had us searching the whole damn place.”

“I was off fighting bad guys off course.” You rolled your eyes, trying your best to keep your composure despite your injury.

“You okay?” Sam stood in front of you with his hands on your shoulders as he searched your face. “You look sick.”

“I’m fine.” You faked a yawn. “I just could use a nap. And some food.”

“You sure?” Sam raised his brow, unsure of your answer.

“Of course Sam. I’m practically bulletproof remember?” You smiled at him before giving him a pat. You smiled at Sharon and went over to Bucky, giving him a pat on the back as well. “Good job guys.”

“Well I don’t know if I’d call that a good job.” Bucky retorted before looking at you once more and studying your face. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t look too good, and you’re sweating.”

“Yes, for the hundredth time yes. I’m fine. And gods can sweat too by the way, we’re not made of plastic.” You added with a quirked brow before looking around. “Where’s Zemo?”

Just as you finished your question you saw Zemo pull up in a classic convertible with a smirk on his face. “Supercharged.”

“Where the hell did you get a car?” You furrowed your brows at him. “You found it didn’t you.”

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam noted, obviously done with Zemo’s antics.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo sighed at them before looking over at you, raising his brow as he noticed how your skin had slightly lost color and looked sickly, as if you had a fever, though you stood as if nothing was wrong with you.

“He's right. We need him. And there's two of us, and at least 20 of them. Come on.” Bucky added as he hopped in the front passenger seat.

“Fine.” Sam glared at Zemo as he got in the backseat. “But if you try that shit again...”

“I wouldn't dream of it.” Zemo replied as he watched you get in the back from the rear view mirror.

You hesitated, eyeing the pristine white seats with shifting eyes. Shit. You didn’t want to get them dirty and you definitely did not want them to notice you were bleeding. With a silent prayer that you didn’t mess up the seats with your blood, you slid in the backseat next to Sam right behind Zemo, trying not make a strained face from the movement. Zemo had noticed this, how you were extremely careful in getting in his car, and he wondered what went wrong with you to act this way. It looked as if you almost didn’t want to get in. Your behavior was strange.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” Sharon commented as she stood by the car.

“Come back to the States with us.” Sam offered her.

“I told you I can't. Just get me that pardon you promised me.” Sharon mentioned before walking away.

“You're not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam glared at the back of Bucky’s head.

“No.”

“Can you kids chill out? Don’t make me put you on time-out.” You muttered, grabbing your sunglasses out of your jacket pocket and putting them on. You were starting to get a massive headache from your wound and the sunlight was not helping at all, only blinding you at the moment.

“Hey, don’t call us kids.” Sam glared at you.

“I’m 23,000 years old. I’ll call you kids whenever I goddamn want.” You leaned back in your seat, only to have Bucky and Sam look at you with an offended frown while Zemo smirked before driving away.

You had arrived at the landing strip where Zemo’s jet was. Being careful to get out of the car, you looked back at your seat in relief to see that it was still clean, not a drop of your blood on it. Oeznik greeted you all as you came in. And as you glanced at the seats of the jet, you rolled your eyes as you pushed your sunglasses up on your head. You forgot the seats of Zemo’s jet were also light colored. With a sigh you sat down, being careful not to move too much that would cause you to lose more blood. You don’t know how you had managed to last that long with a wound like that.

“Would you like anything to drink miss?” Oeznik approached you, asking you in Russian.

“Water is fine thank you.” You answered back in Russian as you smiled politely at him. You could really use a glass of cold water right now. Your wound was not only making you exhausted, it was also making you extremely dehydrated.

“I didn’t know you can speak Russian.” Zemo commented when he heard you speak.

“Perks of being a Greek god.” You turned to face Zemo in front of you. “We can speak all languages.”

Oeznik came back with your glass and you thanked him, downing the glass in one sitting. The cool water felt harsh against your dry throat that felt like the Sahara dessert, as if you were swallowing sharp shards of ice. The glass of water did nothing to quench what seemed to be a never ending thirst, you could have chugged down a 5 gallon jug of water but it still wouldn’t have provided you any relief. You wanted desperately to ask for another glass and another after that, but you couldn’t let the guys get suspicious. You didn’t want to delay their mission and have them be worried about you, there was already enough on their minds. So you slid your sunglasses back on, ignoring the anxiety, the pain, the weariness, and the uncontrollable thirst as you leaned back to get into as much of a comfortable position as you could get. “I’m going to take a quick nap. So if you three could not argue like a pack of chihuahuas, that would be great.” You noted before closing your eyes.

“We don’t-“

“Shhhhh Sam. Thank you.” You mumbled as you struggled to fall asleep, the symptoms you were feeling only getting more severe. The sooner you landed and found a place to rest, the sooner you could tend to your wound.

“Is she okay?” Bucky whispered to Sam.

“Yeah, she gets like that when she doesn’t get her nap.”

“I heard that.” You announced with your eyes still closed.

“I thought you were going to sleep.” Sam looked at you.

“I’m in the process.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as you shifted in your seat, soon drifting off to sleep.

When you woke back up, you noticed that the plane was already starting to land. “So where are we landing?” You grumbled as you sat up in the seat, feeling more drained than before despite the nap you took. You rubbed your eyes from under your sunglasses, adjusting your vision to look out the window and seeing the clouds pass as you declined towards the earth.

“Riga, Latvia.” Zemo answered your question.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked you once he saw that you were awake.

“Almost there.” You lied. “Once I get some food in my stomach and a proper night’s sleep, not a nap, to recharge, I’ll be like brand new.”

Once the plane landed, you got up and checked the seat again with a quick glance, it seemed as if luck was on your side, in a strange and twisted away. The seat was clean. You thanked Oeznik on your way out of the plane and followed Zemo into the streets of Riga, glancing around at the European architecture. The four of you received a few stares as you went, making you lower your head and hide your face behind the strands of your hair.

“I heard what became of Sokovia.” Zemo spoke. “Cannibalized by its neighbors before the land was cleared of rubble, erased from the map. I don’t suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial? Of course not. Why would you?”

You winced at the jab Zemo made towards Sam and Bucky. Something told you Zemo hadn’t meant it towards you. Did he know you were there? You had visited the memorial once before with Wanda. At the time, you couldn’t help but feel guilty, despite your efforts to stay back after the defeat of Ultron to help clean up and find any remaining survivors. You, a Greek goddess, couldn’t even save the country from collapsing or the man you once loved. Who’s to say you can save your daughter if anything were to happen to her?

“We are here.” Zemo announced as he stopped at a building.

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky mentioned.

“You good?” Sam asked him.

You looked towards Bucky, silently asking him if he needed anything.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” Bucky nodded before heading off.

You watched him walk away with a raised brow, something was bothering him. You heard the sound of keys and turned back to see Zemo unlocking the door to a building, revealing a small flight of stairs.

“This way.” Zemo gestured. “We should stay the night here before heading off to find Madani first thing tomorrow.”

Fuck. You weren’t sure if you had enough strength left. You stared at the steps as Sam and Zemo went up.

“Y/n. You coming?” Sam called out to you, making you look up at him.

“Uh yeah.”

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You nodded with a feigned smile before heading up the stairs behind them, using everything in you to not collapse right then and there as your side burned with each step. Halfway up the stairs you were hit with vertigo, clutching your head as the world around seemed to sway along with you.

“Y/n?” You heard Sam’s voice, muffled by the throbbing that grew in your head.

Your body leaned backwards, just about to fall down the flight of stairs before a pair of arms grabbed you. You fell limp into Sam’s arms as he stared down at you with wide eyes, searching your clammy face for any signs of what could be wrong.

“Y/n? Y/n answer me!” Sam held you with panic in his voice, your body felt frail and cold in his warm arms, making his concern and worry only grow.

“Quick.” Zemo affirmed as he opened to door to his place. “We need to get her in.”

Sam picked you up, your head falling back limp as he carried you up the stairs.

“Quick. Set her down over there.” Zemo nodded towards the couch in the living room before closing the door behind him, watching Sam go over and lay you down as gently as he could. A sense of perturbation filled within Zemo as he saw you there. In the few days that he had known you, he had grown accustomed to seeing you always standing strong, your head held high and and a look on your face that meant you were ready for whatever troubles that may lay themselves on your path. He had gotten used to seeing you as the immortal daughter of Zeus himself, the princess of Olympus. Yet here you were, laid out on the couch in front of him, looking mortal and frail. It looked as if death itself was hovering just centimeters from your body, ready to snatch your soul and leave nothing but an empty vessel behind.

“What is wrong with her?” Zemo asked quietly as he moved over to where Sam was crouched by your side.

“I......I don’t know.” Sam shook his head as he tried to check your pulse before pausing, his eyes growing dark. “She’s.....dying.”

“What?” Zemo replied, his voice louder this time. This couldn’t be happening, Sam had to have made a mistake. You used to rule the Underworld alongside Hades. You were the one that guided the souls there. And after what happened, you were left to rule the dead on your own. How could you, goddess and ruler of the Underworld, die?

As you laid there, cold and sweating with what felt like your whole body was on fire, and your mind spinning from the vertigo, you felt Sam’s hands move towards the zipper of your jacket. You grabbed his wrist before he could touch you, pulling his hand away from your body.

“Don’t.” You breathed out, straining to open your eyes as you looked at him, only to see a blur of his figure.

“Y/n. What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t touch me.” You rasped out, licking your lips from how dry they felt.

“Y/n.”

“Don’t make me force you Sam. I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Sam glared at you, wishing you weren’t so stubborn even in a state like this. “I’m going to remove your jacket to try and see what is wrong.”

“Don’t.” You squeezed your eyes shut as you groaned from the pain in your side.

“Y/n.” Sam’s voice was stern. “I checked your pulse. Don’t give me that shit. What the hell is going on?”

You sighed, not wanting to look at Sam in the eyes. You heard the door click open and saw Bucky walking in, his eyes trained on you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You whispered.

“No she’s not fine.” Sam sighed as he turned towards Bucky, trying his best to stay calm in a situation like this. “Her pulse is weak.” Sam couldn’t help but feel that he was to blame for this. He let you go on this mission with him, and now you were injured, on the brink of death with your daughter still at home expecting your return. He promised Athena he would bring you home safe.

“Her pulse is weak? What do you mean?” Bucky furrowed his brows as he rushed over to where you were.

“It means what it means.” Sam looked away, his heart wrenching form the thought of what might become of you.

“Sam said she might be dying.” Zemo uttered, his eyes trained on the floor at his feet, he still didn’t want to believe what Sam had said. He wanted to be by your side, to hold your hand. But how could he with Sam and James there? A part of him wanted to do it anyways, despite what the two thought, but he couldn’t. He knew you wouldn’t allow him.

“Dying?” Bucky looked at him in anger from the words that came from him, grabbing Zemo by the collar of his coat. “The hell are you talking about? How can she be dying?”

“Can you guys cut it out?” You said louder this time, making the men turn to you, they couldn’t exactly tell what you were going through. But to you it felt as if your head would split open in any moment. “Y’all talk too damn much.” There was no point in trying to hide your situation now. With a groan and using every last bit of strength you had left, you pulled yourself up to a seating position, struggling in taking your jacket off before tossing it down on the floor.

“What the hell is on your shirt?” Sam knitted his brows together as he reached over to touch the golden liquid that stained your shirt, unsure of what the strange substance was.

“I said don’t touch me!” You shouted as you swatted Sam’s hand away.

“Wha-y/n what the hell is on your shirt?”

“..............It’s my blood, or ichor. It’s......extremely toxic to mortals, which is why I specifically said to not touch me.” You spoke with labored breaths as you leaned back on the couch.

“Your blood?” Bucky’s eyes widened. “Why are you bleeding? And why is it gold?”

“Not everyone bleeds red James.” You rolled your eyes.

“...........lift your shirt.” Sam ordered you.

“Sam-“

“I’m not gonna ask again y/n. I know you don’t want us to go near you. But I at least need to see what the hell is going on in the first place.”

You hesitated, your lips firm as you stared down at the ground. Not only were they going to see your wound, they were going to see the scars on your back as well, and there was nothing you could do about it. With a sigh, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt, peeling it off your skin since some of your blood had dried and stuck to your torso. Wincing as you did so, you lifted your shirt up to the bottom of your sports bra and untied the strip of fabric around your stomach, revealing the bullet wound underneath.

“You’ve been shot? But how?” Sam knitted his brows together. “I thought you were bulletproof.”

Once Zemo received a view of your wound, the blood within his veins burned with rage. He tried his hardest not to go out there right now and kill whoever had managed to put you in such a condition. You had a bullet imbedded in you this whole time, suffering, nearly bleeding to death and he hadn’t noticed. Why did you keep this from them?

“I’m supposed to be bulletproof Sam. I did not expect to be taken down by some bootleg Duane Chapman. But don’t worry, he’s dead.”

“But how?” Bucky asked you, your reaction to being shot was not what he had in mind. “Are you...are you going to die?”

“Look, I’m just as clueless as you are.” You grunted, wincing from the pain. “All I know is that I have to take out this bullet and stitch up the wound as soon as possible. I don’t want to find out what will happen if I don’t.”

“Christ.” Bucky ran his hand threw his hair, thinking of any way he can help you, but you refused to let them near. They couldn’t even come in contact with your blood because of how you treated it as if it were acid to them. “So what now?”

“I’m going to have to do this myself.”

“No way.” Sam shook his head. “That’s dangerous.”

“I’ve patched up Spartans, gladiators and knights before Sam, and many others after that. After centuries of doing it, I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Well have you ever done this on yourself?” Bucky asked you.

“..........no. But I can manage. As long as you guys don’t freak out, I won’t freak out.” You blinked before gesturing to your jacket. “Inside my right pocket there’s a tiny duffel bag, can one of you grab it please.”

“Tiny duffel bag?” Sam raised his brow.

“Yes, that’s what I said. Now can one of you please get it?”

Sam went over to where your jacket was on the ground, pulling out a miniature duffel bag from the pocket.

“Good. Now set it down on the floor.” You watched as Sam set the small bag on the floor with confusion. He thought it looked like it belonged to a Barbie doll. What the hell were you doing with it? “Okay good. Now step away.” With a flick of your wrist, the men watched you with curiosity as you used your magic to turn the duffel bag into it’s normal size.

“Well that’s totally normal.” Bucky commented.

“Okay. Now open up my bag, I want you to pull out my bottle of wine.”

Sam looked at you quizzically before zipping open your bag and rummaging through it, finding your glass bottle of wine and handing it to you. “I thought you don’t drink.”

“Never said I didn’t drink, I just don’t drink your mortal shit.” You grumbled, popping open the cork with your teeth and keeping the cork in place to prevent you from biting your tongue. Slowly, you poured some of the wine on your wound, grunting from the stinging sensation that made you bite down on the cork. After a few seconds, you set the cork and bottle down beside you. “Now, would any of you happen to have a needle and thread? And some gauze? Or even some clean strips of fabric?”

“I can check.” Zemo offered before heading off. Shortly after, he came back with gauze that he managed to find, along with a sewing needle that already had a string of thread looped through.

“Thank you.” You grabbed the things from Zemo, setting them aside on the table that was within arm’s reach before hovering your hand above your wound.

“Y/n....” Sam’s voice was unsure, laced with concern once he figured out what you were going to do.

Zemo turned away. He had seen many injured Sokovian soldiers before, but this was different, he couldn’t stand to see you like this. To see you in pain hurt him in a way he never thought he’d feel when he met you.

A violet mist appeared around your fingertips as you attempted to regain your breathing, trying your best to keep your hand steady despite how nervous you were. Yes, you had patched up many people in the past, but you never once had to do it on yourself, and you were terrified. What if it went wrong? But you couldn’t have someone else do it, Olympian blood was considered toxic to mortals, killing anyone who came in contact with it. No, it had to be you. With a single deep breath, you used your powers to extract the bullet from the wound, clenching your jaw as you hissed from the pain. Tossing the bullet aside, you added pressure to the wound to prevent any more loss of blood before cleaning it out.

Holding the needle in one hand and holding out your open palm in the other, you muttered a few words in Ancient Greek, using a pyromancy spell to light your free hand up in a violet flame.

“What are you doing?” You heard Sam ask.

“I have to sterilize the needle of course.” You answered before holding the needle up to the flame to heat it up, waiting for the metal to turn red before extinguishing the flame. You grabbed your wine bottle again, taking a few swigs out of it before setting it back down. With a huff of your jagged breath, you started on stitching it closed, hissing each time the needle pierced your skin.

The three felt guilty for having stood there, not being able to do anything to aid you while you stitched yourself up. But what could they do? If your blood was as toxic as you said, there was nothing they could do.

Once you were done stitching up your wound after what felt like hours, you had Sam help you with the gauze since you weren’t able to move much. You were practically waiting for him to see the scars on your back and ask about it. What would you even tell them? How would they react? You had managed to hide those scars for many many years until now, it was a memory you did not wish to relive. Logan, Charles, and Erik were the only souls who knew about them. One thing was for sure, you did not have the strength to explain to them the story behind them.

“Y/n.” You heard Sam’s worried tone of voice. You didn’t even have to look at his face to know where his eyes had landed. You could practically feel the gaze of the three of them, staring at your back with what you could only imagine as horror.

Though Zemo had caught a glimpse of them in the dark when he was in your room, the shadows that were cast against them from the moonlight failed to show just how deep and jagged they were, as if the skin on your back wasn’t even yours.

“Y/n.” Sam spoke softly after seeing the troubled look on your face and how silent you had become. “Y/n.............what is this? What happened to your back?” Sam had seen these kind of scars before, but only in photographs in history books, never in person, and he was afraid to hear what your answer would be.

There was only one thought that came to Bucky’s mind when he saw your back. He had been in a similar territory. Those scars that lined your back were almost too familiar to him and he didn’t need to have the same ones to know there was only one possible way you could have gotten them.

“I know you guys are concerned, about my scars.” You muttered, your back still facing them as you were left in your sports bra while you changed into a clean shirt, hiding the skin on your back. “But I’d rather not talk about it right now. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some proper rest.”

The men nodded their heads, accepting your request before heading off in their own directions. They understood your decision and weren’t going to question it.

“Sam wait.” You stopped him, seeing him stop in his tracks to face you. “Please stay.”

Sam looked at you with a raised brow, wondering why you wanted him to stay before sitting down on the sofa beside you. “How you feeling?”

“I feel like shit, but less shittier than before.” You chuckled softly before wincing from the action. “But don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. Listen Sam, about my injury, please don’t blame yourself for what happened to me.”

“I’m not-“

“I can tell Sam.” You sighed. “I just want to let you know that none of it was your fault. I chose to go on this mission.”

“I let you come along and you got hurt.” Sam looked at you. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Hey, not everything works out perfect. Trust me, I thought I would be fine because only a god can kill a god..........but I obviously got shot. But the thing that matters is I’m fine. Sure, I thought I was going to die. Hell, you all thought I was going to die. But I’m still here.”

“Do you know why that happened?” Sam asked you.

“To be honest? I still don’t know the true answer to that. Part of me thinks that it has to do with the loss of my planet. Maybe my time away from my planet has left me weak.”

“Hey.” Sam spoke up. “You are not weak. You are the strongest woman I know.”

“Right after your sister.” You quirked.

“Right after Sarah.” Sam chuckled softly. “Look, what I’m trying to say is, and I’ve seen you do it, you need to stop thinking that you’re weak, and less important than everyone else. You have gone through so much, and seen so many things. I can’t tell you how to feel about the things you have gone through because I don’t know what that’s like. I didn’t grow up on another planet, I’m not a Greek god and I’m definitely not thousands of years old, so I don’t know what that must have been like for you. But what I can say is that you’re not alone, you have a daughter who you raised all by yourself with zero experience of being a parent, and you raised her well. And you have us, so don’t feel like you need to hide every single thing from us. We’re here to help. I get that there are some things better left unsaid, but please don’t feel like you have to suffer through everything alone. If you keep eating at yourself like you do, and bottle up all your thoughts and feelings, it’s only going to do you more harm than good.”

“Y’know.” You looked at him, staring into those beautiful brown eyes of his that you always loved, the ones that reminded you of a safe place that you could seek shelter in no matter when. “I was supposed to give you a pep talk, but you have beat me to it.”

“Hey, if it works.” Sam smiled at you.

“Thanks Sam.” You smiled back.

“Come here.” Sam opened his arms out for you. “You need to rest.”

A sheepish grin appeared on your face as you scooted over to him, letting yourself relax in his warm embrace. Sam always gave the best hugs. Back when you worked with the avengers, Steve, Clint, and Sam were the three you would go to whenever you wanted a hug or just someone to hold you to wash all your worries away. Before them it was always Thor, and your brothers before him. But Sam’s hugs always felt as if you were hugging a big soft teddy bear, and gods you could stay in his arms forever. You two had stayed like that for a while, Sam with his back against the couch, and you cuddled up against his chest, wrapped in his arms. Right before you fell asleep, you thought about what Sam had told you. You knew he was right. But your thoughts couldn’t help but drift over to the recent events, how you were slowly starting to fall apart to your titaness form, the dream you had of Athena, and how you had been shot. After thousands of years, your skin had been pierced by a mortal for the first time. You thought about the prophecy you had heard a long time ago, the one your father had warned you about. Did this have anything to do with that? Were you in fact becoming mortal, or was this just paving a path to something much darker, and far more sinister.

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tealtoedtoots · 3 years

Text

Two Super Vampires Walk Into a Bar...

“To me, immortality was something utterly unimportant and trivial. All that has ever mattered to me was living up to my code.”

Wamuu and Esidisi go out on the town and have a little heart to heart about the future.

Wamuu wasn’t usually one for drinking. Not often, anyway. He’d partake on occasion, but ultimately, he had decided that this particular diversion was not for him. He didn’t like the idea of not being in complete control over his emotions.

So it was with some reluctance, one night, that he agreed to go out drinking with Master Esidisi.

It was not long after they crossed the sea. They had been traveling for some time until they found themselves in a magnificent coastal city, marked with gorgeous architecture and bustling with life. Esidisi, ever lively, found himself with just enough spare energy to fancy a drink or two somewhere in this exciting new place. Kars did not share his enthusiasm. By the time they found a place to stay, the red-eyed man, perhaps a tad more red-eyed than usual, was ready for a rest.

So it was up to the dutiful Wamuu to accompany his master for the night. Truthfully, it wasn’t just his aversion to alcohol that made him wary of sharing a drink with Esidisi. He had much on his mind. The voyage had been quite unsettling for all of them, and Wamuu was left wondering if this grand quest for complete immortality was worth such risks. Or if he wanted such a thing at all. Ordinarily, he’d keep such doubts to himself, but he was terrified of the liquor loosening his tongue. And, shrewd as Esidisi was, it wouldn’t take much to see right through him.

Still, his master wanted to go out, and he couldn’t just let him go alone. So, with some good-humored advice from Kars, (“Make sure he behaves.” “Yes, Lord.” “Don’t let him start anything.” “Yes, Lord.” “Don’t get stuck somewhere before sunrise.” “Yes, Lord.”) they were off on their little tour around town.

Even at so late an hour, the city was fluttering with people, between and around such grandiose structures the likes neither of them had ever seen. They walked under several beautiful arches made of limestone and marble with impressive friezes. They passed by a large nymphaeum, covered in mosaic with a particularly striking fountain. And then there was the theater, so enormous the two found it hard to believe there was any spectacle that could draw a large enough crowd to fill it even half full. They finally settled at a tavern of sorts. A cozy little place with a lovely view of the city. They sat in contended silence for a while, Esidisi’s cup already half-empty, Wamuu’s untouched. It was a truly beautiful night, and Wamuu was quite taken with the view.

“So, what’s troubling you, Wamuu?”

Wamuu flinched at the suddenness. What?? How could he know? He hadn’t even drunk anything yet! Had he been obvious?

“Oh…” He wasn’t ready to have this talk. Leave it to Master to charge headfirst into a potentially difficult conversation. He thought quickly. “I was merely wondering...what happens after we obtain the red stone.”

“Ah.” he seemed satisfied with the answer. “Well, I’d imagine once we’ve achieved our goal and are made properly invincible, Kars and I will travel at our leisure. See the world in a new light. Maybe take an overseas trip that isn’t miserable.” he winked at Wamuu over his cup before taking a sip. “You and Santana are welcome to join us of course, but ultimately, your eternity is yours to spend as you see fit.”

The two went quiet again, a little less comfortable this time. The last part of his reply seemed to hold some weight to it, a certain melancholy. They were both already missing Santana, which made the possibility of parting ways sting more than it normally would have. In the silence, Wamuu was surprised to find himself compelled to speak truthfully after all. He still hadn’t touched his drink, and yet whether it was the ambience of the place or his master’s subtle change in expression, he couldn’t fight the urge to confess.

“Master...what if I didn’t want to be an immortal being?”

Esidisi looked at him in surprise, and immediately Wamuu regretted not keeping his mouth shut. He had to be livid, how could he not be? He just admitted that he didn’t want the glorious life they were working so hard to achieve, and partially for his sake. He must seem so selfish. He tried to backpedal.

“H-hypothetically.” Nice save.

Esidisi looked intently at the man beside him for a time, then relaxed his face. “Of course he doesn’t.” he thinks. “This earnest and honorable fool would never have an earnest and honorable battle again. It would utterly take the wind out of his sails.” As a warrior, he understood. Esidisi had had countless battles over his long life, some of them exciting and perilous, most of them far too easily won. And though he still enjoyed the thrill of combat, he’d long made his peace that there were few of this world that could measure up.

But Wamuu was still young, and had done most of his living by their side. No doubt, he’d need to have many more encounters before he could be satisfied. He put aside his disappointment and spoke evenly.

“Well, Wamuu,” he turned forward again and took another sip. “It’s as I’ve said. Once the stone is ours, you may live your life as you please.”

Esidisi didn’t seem upset, but Wamuu was still uneasy. “And...Lord Kars?”

Esidisi stilled. Ah. That might be a different matter. Kars wouldn’t be too thrilled to hear this. Esidisi knew it came from a place of love, of course he wanted Wamuu to live forever with no threats or fears to burden him. They both did. It would be giving him everything. It would be giving him the whole world. He wouldn’t understand why he would reject such a gift, just so he can play around with some lesser beings, and at the possible cost of his life at that.

“Hmm. I won’t lie to you, Kars will likely be furious.” Wamuu knew the answer, but his heart sank anyway.

“But don’t let it torment you. You know how he can be. He’ll come to accept it in due time, and sooner rather than later. He cares for you deeply, after all.” he claps a warm hand on his back. “And anyway, knowing Kars, it won’t be long after conquering the sun before he needs something new to obsess over. Maybe his next mission will be building you the perfect opponent.” he grinned.

Wamuu smiled. He didn’t know whether the older man was joking or not, and he had a suspicion he wasn’t so sure himself, but his words cheered him considerably. He was glad that he came out tonight.

“You know, Master, I’m somewhat surprised a fierce warrior such as yourself would be so willing to give up his combative lifestyle for an eternity of peace and tranquility. With all due respect, it doesn’t seem like you.”

Esidisi chuckled. “Who said anything about peace and tranquility? Believe me Wamuu, even in paradise, if there’s trouble, I’ll find it.” His voice and his smile soften. “Besides, even if I’ve already fought my very last battle, a whole lifetime of them can only pale in comparison to an infinity with my mate.” Wamuu made a commendable effort to keep his nose from wrinkling. “Maybe someday you’ll find someone for whom you feel the same.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. He thought for a second. “Honestly, I think I’d rather spend the remainder of my time with you and Lord Kars.”

Esidisi barked a hearty laugh. “Don’t be so quick to decide that, Wamuu! That’s a long time, you may very well be sick of us by then.” He smiled at him warmly.

Wamuu smiled back. He doubted it.

It was then that Esidisi noticed Wamuu’s cup, still filled to the top. With an exaggerated sigh, he held out his hand. “Alright Wamuu, give me the drink. You haven’t touched it all night.”

Wamuu looked at the cup, then back to his master. An impish smile formed on his usually serious face. Suddenly, on a whim of rare playfulness, he jerked his head back and gulped the whole thing down in mere seconds! It was not a small drink.

Esidisi was stunned for the second time that night. He stared at him in disbelief before erupting into a fit of raucous laughter. “‘Atta boy! ‘Atta boy!! Let’s have another!” he shouted while slapping him vigorously on the back. “Maybe you can taste it this time!”

Wamuu wasn’t usually one for drinking, but he had a wonderful time that night.

EXTRA

The door opened with a loud bang, and Esidisi entered with a flourish. He found Kars in the middle of the room, comfortably laying on some blankets and looking over some scroll he managed to get his hands on.

“Why! Is that Kars, the brilliant and gorgeous love of my near-immortal life? Or is that simply the most exquisite and oddly colored mop I have ever seen?”

Kars huffed a laugh and looked at him with a sly smile.

“It’s Kars.” Esidisi said simply, kissing his cheek and making himself comfortable against Kars’ back.

“Your flattery needs work.” he turned back to his reading, still smiling.

“Really? I thought that was pretty good for me.”

“You’ve had better.” he glanced behind him. “Where’s Wamuu?”

Oh. That was a good question. Esidisi opened his eyes in realization. “Huh...he was right behind me…”

Kars sat up in alarm just before hearing a thud at the entrance. There he was, perfectly safe and completely hammered, lying right in the doorway.

“...Wamuu? Are you alright?”

Wamuu giggled drowsily in response. He raised his arm in the air and swung it in a circle a few times before giving a thumbs up, before dropping it over his face.

Kars gave Esidisi a look. “What?? There was no stopping him Kars, the boy practically drank the whole place dry!”

Kars got up with a sigh. “Oh, no he didn’t Esidisi, don’t fib.

“He did!”

Kars crossed the floor and leaned down, giving Wamuu a shake. “Wamuu.”

Wamuu opened one eye and looked at Kars. He gave him a broad and goofy smile.

“Luvff you Daahd…”

That’s both masters he’s stunned tonight. Kars’ eyes widened and he pressed his lips together in shock. He was certainly not expecting that. “O-oh!” was all he managed. Wammu didn’t hear his master’s uncharacteristically inelegant reply, he was out again almost immediately. Kars could feel Esidisi beaming at him from across the room, and he was sure he could tell he was fighting a silly smile of his own.

“You both are incorrigible.”

#jjba #battle tendency #pillarfam #fanfiction #WOO another fic down and i even titled it this time WOOT WOOT #yeah i think this might be a lil corny but what can i say im a corny binch #CORNY BINCHES RISE #theres some #esikars #in there 'cause of course there is #but mostly its just windy boy and lava dad bonding hours #<3

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