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sadesluvr · 4 months

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Beautiful Liar

After you boyfriend Randy is tragically murdered, Billy is determined to be the shoulder you cry on.

A/N: Been sitting on this idea for a while. Please read the tags, and minors DNI!

Word count: 3.6K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Dacryphilia / Manipulation / Grief / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Loss of virginity / Corruption kink / Gaslighting / Misogyny / Reader has a vagina / Fingering

Randy Meeks was dead, and there was no way to change that.

He’d been murdered, brutally; his body in tatters, bloody mess left on the stockroom floor of the video store he’d worked at. Police had said it was a homicide, just another in a series of attacks by the infamous masked ‘Ghostface’ killer that had been running around Woodsboro. The whole town, your friend group included, had been speculating the person – or people’s - identity, wondering if they were male or female, old or young, insider or outsider...either way, the sole question was why. Why Woodsboro? Why now? Why your friends?

The simple answer – in Randy’s case at least – was that you were living in a classic horror movie, in which none of you would get out of alive unless you followed the rules, (which was the sole reason why you hadn’t slept with him during your relationship) but that particular answer was far from satisfying to you. First Sidney’s mother had disappeared, next was Casey and her boyfriend, soon followed by Sidney’s father, Tatum, Randy and Sidney herself, leaving only you to remain. You were, as Randy would dub it, ‘the final girl’.

And you hated it. Randy painted these women as strong, brave, heroic, even, but you were far from it; instead worn down and shattered by the massacre of those closest to you over the past six months. There was a reason that the term was only reserved for the movies; it was too difficult, maybe even downright impossible to be able to fight back in real life, especially when it had happened so constantly and so close to home. There were few words you had to speak anymore, and when you did you found that they were only able to materialise around Billy Loomis.

Billy, and his friend Stu Macher were the only of those that remained. Randy would’ve chalked it down to it being intentional, but the only pattern you could see was that they were killing ‘boy-girl-boy-girl’, which meant either of the two could’ve been next.

So, imagine your shock – and horror – when Stu had gone missing, leaving nothing but a bloodied shoe in his wake. It was the only death of your friends that you hadn’t been to; no morgue visits or ceremonies, with Billy choosing to spend the day with you after he claimed that the Macher’s had just wanted family at his funeral. You would’ve been hurt, but considering you’d spent the past few months feeling like a curse, you were rather happy to keep your distance.

“Thanks for staying with me…” you sighed, rubbing your red eyes. You’d been crying over Randy again, and although Billy wasn’t someone who liked dealing with emotions, he’d been a shoulder to cry on – literally – his silence giving you space to vent. “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess…”

“I think you’re taking this too hard,” he said simply, watching you intently as you tried to compose yourself. “None of this is your fault. There are psychos everywhere.”

“Yeah, but why us? How am I still here?” you gasped, the question blatantly rhetorical.

“Luck. And skill. You’ve been in the right place at the right time,” he sniffed. “Maybe the killer doesn’t want you dead...”

“Oh, that’s comforting.” You scoffed, dabbing at your nose with a tissue. He didn’t reply, but he tapped his finger impatiently along the edge of the sofa as his eyes roamed your body.

You used to be such a sweet little thing; always dolled up in your signature clothes and makeup, but now you were timid, a recluse, even, walking around in Randy’s old shirts and running on two hours of sleep (if that). He couldn’t argue – solely because he’d been the one to cause this - but in time he’d get you back to the way you were. In fact, he might’ve even enjoyed this broken version of you even more; with swollen lips, a melancholy glow, and a psyche that was desperate for affection that only your former boyfriend could’ve given to you.

Killing Randy had been exhilarating. It’d been all too easy, the boy practically boasted about his job (and therefore his schedule), and then it had been down to hiding in the stock room on his late shift, only to lunge at him from the shadows, pointed blade digging in and ravaging his pale flesh, all the while he screamed – even cried – your name. That was your knight in shining armour, a guy who’d failed to follow the rules he swore to live by. Pathetic.

He’d shown him his face right before he died, remembering the way his eyes, though dull and rubber like a fish, had seemingly shone with recognition. He’d put the pieces together, simply far too late.

“Don’t worry, Randy,” he’d said. “I’ll take good care of your little girlfriend.”

Even in his moribund state, the nerd had known what he’d meant, his eyes flickering with worry just as the life had snapped out of him, the whole situation comically cinematic. All that was next was to kill Sidney, the girl that Randy adored before you’d even transferred to Woodsboro. It was simple; Sidney was collateral, and you were a spoil of war. And there was no one left to save you.

“I think you should go outside,” Billy said bluntly. “Being inside all day isn’t good for your head.”

You sighed and wiped your face, glancing around your living room. Truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d opened the curtains; much less when was the last time you’d gotten off the couch. The television was always on, and you’d done nothing but aimlessly flick through the channels, both avoiding yet drawing yourself to the news, hoping there’d be an update on the killer. It struck you as odd that it had all gone silent.

“Like...Where?” you said incredulously, and Billy resisted the urge to sigh.

“We could go to the movies,” he suggested. “It’ll be on me. I’ll even let you watch those terrible romance ones with the sappy endings.”

You seemed to perk up at this, glancing over at the time on the clock across the room. It was 6:15, and if you showered quick enough (and found some clean, unwrinkled clothes) you could make it to a random seven o’clock screening. It was kind enough that Billy was here with you, but offering to take you to a romance film took selfishness out of the question – he was a true friend, treating you in the same way he had Sidney.

You, like many others, had joked about how perfect he was, often wishing that Randy had been the same way. He’d been nice, without a doubt, but sometimes he was erratic and clingy (some would say annoying), whereas Billy was far more level-headed and relaxed, evident through his constant support. It was time for you to smile, even if it would be temporary.

“Okay...” You whispered with a weak smile, standing to your feet. “Give me a minute, I’m just gonna freshen up.”

Billy’s deep brown eyes followed your figure as you walked past him and disappeared up the stairs. Sitting for a moment, he stared at the blaring screen of the television before shutting it off. Considering your state, he’d been surprised that it had been that easy, but apparently all it took for a girl to come around was the promise of a free outing and cliche love stories. The silence was telling – your parents weren’t around – and he pondered your reaction to his arrival in your bedroom...for company, of course.

Pushing himself up from the couch, he followed you, his shoes barely making a noise as he made his way up the steps before stopping at your bedroom door, being a gentleman and taking his shoes off before he entered. A crack of light from the doorway of the bathroom told him that it was occupied, and so he took it as a signal to enter your threshold, wasting no time in rummaging through your drawers.

He ran his lithe fingers over the outlines of your bra, following the soft cotton and curved shape as he imagined holding your tits in his hands, groping and tugging on them as you rode his cock, screaming and moaning his name so loudly that you forgot all about your idiot boyfriend.

It was the same with your panties, except he wanted to cut them off you, to watch as your legs trembled from trying to avoid the blade; only to get nipped, ruby rivulets trickling down your thighs. He’d rub it, smear the substance across your skin as he tried to soothe you, your fluids coating his skin and fingernails, only to been mixed with the translucent l cream of your orgasm – over and over and over again.

Sitting down on the edge of your bed, he waited for you to come in, raising his brows at your squeal upon seeing him. You were only in a dressing gown, with your bra peeking out of the sides of the fluffy material. If he wasn’t already hard, he certainly was now.

“Billy!” You gasped. “I told you to wait downstairs!”

“I got bored,” he shrugged. “I wanted to see more of you.”

You gave him a pointed look as you scraped your earrings off the dresser, clipping them on as you paced around the room in search of an outfit.

“You know me,” you chuckled. “We’ve been friends for a year.”

“Yeah, but do you ever really know someone?” He said softly, his gaze locked on your own as he cocked his head, blinking slowly at your confused expression. There was something unsettling about his tone, and you couldn’t help but think back to one of Randy’s many pained rants: “Never trust anyone. Everyone’s a suspect, even the love interest!” Did he know something you didn’t, or was he just being his typical, elusive self?

“I mean, come on now, Y/N. Look around. There’s no one left…just us. I think it’s time we got to know each-other.”

Pulling on some pants under your gown, you frowned.

“What’re you saying?”

“We should be closer than we are,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to fiddle with the strap of your gown leisurely, his eye contact fleeting, but coy. “How else are we going to get through this?”

Your eyes widened, and you gave Billy a once over as you contemplated the implications of his words. He’d never really been that much of the touchy type up until now, and it couldn’t be coincidental that all of a sudden he’d become so close to you. Perhaps it was the stress; the trauma of losing his friends that made him feel like he needed to fill the void. Or maybe it was genuine, that he wanted to stick through this real-life tragedy with you. Why else would he stay the long nights and weekends, watching TV with you or offering you his snacks?

“Y-You’re a good friend,” you stammered. “Really. But I just don’t know if I can let anyone close to me anymore. What if you get killed!?” You choked, and Billy pulled you to the side of him, pressing your head into the crook of his neck as you sobbed. Tracing small circles on your back, he let you fix yourself before he pulled away, staring into your eyes as he spoke.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “I promise. And you know why?”

You shook your head.

“I spoke to Randy a few days before he died. He was paranoid – you know how he was – I guess you could say that he had a sense he was going to die…” Billy paused, eyes flickering with recognition before he swallowed and continued. “…He said that if anything were to happen to him, that I should be the one to take care of you. He knew how close you were with Sidney, and she’d have wanted the same.”

Shakily, your lips parted as you took a breath. Sidney, like many others, had always gushed about how sweet Billy was – particularly how patient he’d been when it’d come to having sex. It would only be logical for them to say that, given the fact that Stu was the only other candidate. No one else would’ve stuck beside you, putting up with your weeks of moping and incessant crying. It was only right that you started giving him some thanks. After all, he was all you had left.

“O-okay,” you smiled softly before wrinkling your nose. You were so close to Billy that strands of his hair was grazing against your face, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne – icy, yet comforting. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I guess I got so wrapped up in thinking about Randy that I haven’t really been grateful to you. Come on, let’s go out —“

“This isn’t about the movies.” Billy interjected, his brows slightly wrinkled. “This is about you. You’re a girl, and you have needs.”

You froze, always worried it would come to this.

“I can’t let you do that,” you said affirmatively. “You were with Sidney, she was my friend —“

“She’s gone now,” he said, zero inklings of emotion detected within his voice. “Just like Randy’s gone. I have needs too, you know. You’re not really being a good friend by ignoring them.”

“Billy…”

“You mean a lot to me,” he continued, placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing it in a slow but enticing manner. “I think about you a lot. I want to do more to help you…but you’re not letting me.”

You knew it was wrong to go there, but part of you knew that he had a point. There was no use in festering in misery; Randy, Sidney and the rest of your friends were gone for good, and there was ultimately nothing that would change that. All you could do was focus on what you had now, and that was Billy; patient, willing, and ready to carry out the wishes of your deceased friends. You just had to let him in.

Silently, you nodded, and he took that as confirmation to kiss you. His lips were warm and wanting, but certainly felt unfamiliar, and you found that it took you a while to find a suitable rhythm. Billy wasted no time in pushing you back onto the bed, kissing down your neck as he straddled you, the faint outline of his hardening cock brushing against your covered leg. His hands lingered on the tie of your robe, glancing down at it with a smirk before pulling it undone, exposing your semi-nude torso to the cool air of the bedroom.

Your heart leapt out of your chest; not because what you were doing was taboo, but because you’d never done it before. You were about to lose your virginity to your dead friend’s boyfriend – something that your cloudy mind couldn’t comprehend.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, leaving love bits on your chest as his fingers slipped under your bra and pinching and rubbing at the surrounding skin and sensitive nipples. “Randy didn’t know what he had…”

Letting out a moan, you allowed yourself to be consumed by him, pushing off his open button-up so that he was left in his white shirt. He didn’t look much, but his arms were surprisingly muscular, and you found yourself tracing along the outlines of his skin, inadvertently pulling him closer.

Billy pulled away, a smirk visible on his face as he unzipped his pants, sliding his trousers to his ankles before readjusting himself on the bed. Taking your hand, he guided you off the bed and brought you to your feet.

“Strip for me,” he lulled, watching you intently for a reaction. “I want to see how pretty you are…”

Nervously, you peeled the robe off your body, dropping it to the floor at the edge of your bed before undoing your pants, all under the watchful, jaded eyes of Billy Loomis. As cliched as it sounded, you felt like a bride on her wedding night, nerves released by Billy’s soothing coos and gentle touch. He patted the bed – yours, which you seemed to forget – and you laid down, taking laboured breaths as his brown locks disappeared between your thighs, skin breaking into goosebumps as he slid your panties down your legs.

“You’re wet...” he hummed, placing his index and middle together before rubbing your hood in small, deliberate circles. “I think you wanted me more than you let on.”

“B-Billy...” you gasped, shutting your eyes at the pleasurable sensation. “I-I’ve never...”

“Shh, I know, I know...” he whispered, his touch becoming rougher as he prodded and spread your lips apart, admiring your insides like some sort of fucked-up doctor. “ ‘M gonna make you feel good, but you need a little practise first...”

Billy began to finger you, withdrawing his digits every so often to admire the way the slickness of your arousal coated his skin, glossy and translucent, the feeling second only to the blood of his victims on his skin. As he curled his fingers within you, he found that you began to shake and clench; your orgasm abruptly evident.

As much as he wanted to indulge in it, he wanted to savour you – and so pulled his fingers out, earning a breathy whine from you. Hastily, he lowered his boxers, his erect cock jutting out like a weapon as he stalked you, pushing your body deep into the pillows as he straddled you.

“D-Do you have protection...?” you whispered meekly, and Billy could’ve came right there and then at the sight of you, lips parted and begging to be kissed as you gazed at him through your lashes.

“No...” he replied, watching the fear wash over your face. “But it’s ok. I was safe with Sidney, and you’ve never had sex, right? That means you’re good.”

Biting your lip, you debated protesting, but found it wasn't worth it. You wanted him – needed this – and you were already sinning by fucking your dead friends’ boyfriend. What did unprotected sex have on that?

“You’re right,” you said with a small smile, puffing your cheeks as you prepared for him to enter you. “Be gentle...”

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you,” he said firmly, eyes unblinking as he adjusted himself at your entrance, the edge of his cock grazing against your folds. “We’re in this together, remember?”

You knew he meant it when he kissed you upon his penetration, his lips swallowing your whine as he entered you. He wasn’t by any means a stallion – simply averaged sized – but he filled you almost instantly, a dull ache forming around your walls as he began to thrust his hips up into you. If this was what sex was like; rhythmic, passionate, if not a little sharp-edged, then you were partially sad that you hadn’t got to experience it with Randy...the remaining deeply selfish part of you glad that it was with Billy.

He seemed to know every part of you, where to kiss, where to rub, where to hold – when to slow down and when to quicken, all adorned with his sweet nothings that he spoke into your neck, ever so occasionally peering up at you through his lashes, his exact thoughts elusive to you. He cared, right? Why else would he hold you so close to him, kiss your collarbone, rub and soothe your thighs as he rolled his hips deeper, your pelvises slapping against each other in the heat of the moment?

“You’re so tight,” he moaned as your lips gripped his bare shaft. “So good to me...Taking me so well...”

You whined, the sound getting lost under the slight creaking of the bed and the rustle of your bedsheets, tightening your arms around his neck as you drew him closer into you and running a hand through his hair. Billy was thankful, thankful that you couldn’t see his shit-eating smirk from this position onto of you, but much more for Randy; as if he hadn’t had been such a paranoid nerd, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to imprint himself on you forever.

His strokes were deep and fulfilling, the head of his cock beginning to buck up into your g-spot, pleasure made more overwhelming as he reached down again to rub at your clit. It was dark, somewhat twisted, but it was perfect; and you could actually feel your anxieties disappear entirely. Who was Randy? Had you ever really loved him?

Even amongst your white haze as you got closer to the heat of your orgasm, you were able to make out the sound of a lock opening. Your eyes shot open, trying to piece together footsteps and visible signs of entry – Billy had been the only one to come in, perhaps he’d forgotten to lock the door? Or maybe it was your parents, home early from their outing? Worse, maybe it was the killer, dead on arrival like the Grim Reaper as soon as you’d gone against the rules and had sex.

“Billy —“ you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as his cock hit your sensitive spot. “The door…I-I think someone’s here…”

“Shh, you’re okay…” he murmured into your ear. “I didn’t hear anything…”

A plunging, shaking feeling consumed you as you came, half-lidded eyes making out the shape of a gloved hand and knife creeping from behind the door. Instinctively, you opened your mouth to scream, but nothing came from it. All you could do was lie there, throat parched and the air knocked out of your lungs as you watched the figure enter the room; not hooded, masked or even bloody – but taking the shape and form of a tall, lanky boy with blonde hair.

Stu was alive, and Billy had lied to you.

#florence writes!!#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis smut #ghostface x reader #scream 1996 imagine #scream imagine #scream x reader #billy loomis imagine

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flickering-chandelier · 2 months

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Eyes Full of Stars

Pairing: Modern! Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel grew up together, and eventually fell in love. But he disappeared one day without a trace, and she doesn’t see him again until he’s in attendance at her wedding years later. They reconnect as friends, but when things fall apart with her husband, they both start to wonder if they should try to rekindle what they once had. But, of course, nothing can ever be that simple…

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: pregnancy, cheating (not from Az), swearing, a lil smut

Word Count: 7k

You could practically hear your heartbeat in your ears as you stood at the end of the aisle in your wedding dress, waiting for your cue to walk into the room crowded with everyone you knew, your future husband waiting for you at the end of the line. You took a deep breath as the music swelled, your bouquet shaking in your hands as you took a step forward, then another.

Relief flowed through you when your eyes locked on Tom’s, his smile bright as he drank in the sight of you in your dress for the first time.

Your gaze flicked back and forth, along all the faces of your friends and family watching you.

When your gaze met his though, shock ran through your entire body so swiftly that you nearly stopped dead in your tracks.

Azriel?

His eyes widened too, and it took every ounce of strength you had to keep walking, to keep breathing. You felt frozen, completely unable to tear your eyes from his until you were moving past him.

Your head was spinning. What was Azriel doing at your wedding?

When you made it down the aisle, your hands were still shaking as Tom held them. He subtly raised his eyebrow as the officiant started talking. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on Tom, on your husband, and not the man who had abandoned you without a word five years ago.

The ceremony was beautiful, exactly as you pictured it, and you did your best to focus on it.

By the time the reception rolled around, you had managed to put Azriel out of your mind for the most part.

That is, until you ran right into him on your way to the bathroom. His eyes widened, sucking in a deep breath as his gaze raked over you in your dress. “Hi,” he said softly, his hands tucked in his pockets.

“Hi?” You spat, doing your best to keep your voice low. “Hi? You disappear without a trace after everything and then you show up at my wedding and all you can say is hi?”

His mouth opened, and you could still read him well enough to know that he was frantically trying to form a response.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“I…” he trailed off and swallowed, his jaw flexing once. “I didn’t know this was your wedding. Tom is my co-CEO.”

“He…” your mind whirled, putting puzzle pieces together. “He told me your name, but I didn’t think…”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t assume that it was me,” he offered you a sad smile.

The two of you were silent for a moment as you both drank in the sight of the other. He looked good. In those hazel eyes, you could still see the boy who lived next door, and the man you fell in love with. The one you didn't think you would ever see again.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly, his eyes swimming with emotion.

“Thank you,” you murmured, unable to look away from him. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

The side of his mouth turned up into a small half smile. “Imagine how I felt when I saw you walk down the aisle.”

A small laugh burst out of you before you could stop it. “A little shocking?”

“Just a bit,” he smiled, but his eyes looked sad, and it all came rushing back to you, that summer when he left, and the fall when he disappeared. The hurt, the panic, the confusion.

“I should go,” you blurted, taking a step back from him. His slightly guilty expression was enough to tell you that he understood where your mind had gone.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “Enjoy your night.”

You darted away without risking another word.

---

The diner was busy as you and Azriel walked in, but your table was free and Emily the owner smiled at the two of you, nodding to your table.

You both ordered the usual, and then settled in, an air of anxiety clouding both of your demeanors.

“What if we don’t get in?” You asked, the envelope trembling in your hands. “Or worse, what if only one of us gets in?”

Azriel smiled warmly, putting his hand over yours to stop it from shaking. “We’ll figure it out, like we always do. It’s been you and me since the second grade, and nothing is going to change that, okay?”

You nodded, the tension leaving your body as you looked at your best friend. No matter what happened, you knew you could count on him, ever since he saved you from your bully in elementary school. You’d been inseparable for ten years now. You couldn’t imagine your life without him, and it terrified you to think that the two of you could be separating after graduation, even if he insisted that it wouldn’t happen.

His thumb traced the opening of his own envelope.

“Wait,” you blurted, and he smiled knowingly at you. “Can we just… wait a minute?”

Azriel pointedly placed his envelope on the table in front of him, and you did the same.

“I haven’t seen you this nervous since your Geometry exam,” Azriel teased, his eyes twinkling.

You groaned. “Geometry was really hard for me.”

He laughed. “I know it was.”

Azriel’s expression sobered a bit then, as he leaned forward and looked at you intently. “What are you really so worried about?”

“I just want to get into the right college--”

“No,” he said, cutting you off, shaking his head slightly. “I know you. It’s something more than that. What’s going on?” he said softly.

You took a deep breath, feeling like you could drown in those eyes of his. “I can’t lose you,” you said quietly, your voice breaking slightly.

His eyes softened, his hand reaching for yours. “What are you talking about? You’re never going to lose me.”

Your gaze drifted to the envelopes. “What if--”

“No,” he said again. “Look at me.”

He waited until you slowly lifted your eyes to meet his. “You’re not losing me. Not ever.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” you said, taking a deep breath, steeling yourself to face the future.

“Come here,” he said, nodding to his side of the booth.

You looked at him questioningly.

“Come on,” he laughed. “We should do this together.”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you settled in next to him, pulling your body against his side.

Azriel handed your envelope to you before taking his own. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

You held your breath as you both opened your envelopes, Azriel’s hand on your shoulder reassuring you that it would be okay, whatever the results were.

He looked at you, hiding his letter against his chest, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I got in,” you said, flipping yours around so he could see it.

Azriel grinned, flipping his letter around for you to see. “Me too.”

And your heart absolutely soared.

---

Tom wrapped his arms around your waist days later, burying his face in your neck. “You okay? You’ve seemed off lately.”

“I’m okay…” You trailed off. You had been plagued by thoughts of Azriel since the wedding, remembering all kinds of little moments throughout your life. You had been debating how to tell Tom about his coworker.

“Are you sure?”

You turned around to face him, biting your lip anxiously. “You know Azriel?”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Yes?”

You took a deep breath. “You remember the guy I grew up with?”

“The one you dated and then he disappeared?”

You nodded.

“Yes?”

Silently, you watched him put the pieces together, his expression changing as comprehension dawns on him. “No.”

You winced, nodding. “Yes.”

“Azriel?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know.”

“You never found out what happened, right? Why he just left?” He asked, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

“No,” you said quietly.

“I can’t believe this. Are you okay?”

“I think so,” you said, looking up at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s just brought a lot back.”

He leaned down and kissed you gently. “Is there anything I can do?”

You shook your head, burying your face in his chest. “I just need to forget about it, I think.”

---

Azriel looked at you questioningly as you walked into his dorm room and slumped into his desk chair.

“Boys are stupid,” you grumbled.

It was hard to look Azriel in the eye in times like this. Lately, you’d been seeing Azriel in a different light. He had always been your best friend, but for the past few months you’ve had butterflies in your chest when he smiled at you or wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

And god, he was gorgeous. You’d seen girls crushing on him in school before, of course, and had rolled your eyes and had a laugh about it. But now… Now, you understood.

You’d gone on a few dates since coming to college, but you couldn’t get Azriel out of your mind long enough for them to actually go anywhere.

“I think you’ve just been going out with the wrong guys,” Azriel said quietly from where he sat on his bed.

“Clearly,” you said, forcing down the little bubble of hope that formed at the tone in his voice. “What kind of guy do you think I should try to find?”

Azriel leveled his eyes on yours, his face as stoic as you’d ever seen it. “Someone who knows you,” he murmured after a beat of silence. “Someone who understands you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he held your gaze, trying to read between the lines of his words as he looked at you expectantly.

“Someone who…” your stomach flipped as you forced the next words out, “I’ve known for a long time?”

He nodded, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Someone who… loves you.”

You were sure that you weren’t breathing at all now. “Someone like…?”

“Someone like me,” Azriel said gruffly.

Your feet were moving toward him without your permission, and in a moment you were on the bed in front of him and his hands were in your hair, his lips on yours.

“You love me?” you asked weakly against his lips.

Azriel laughed. “Of course I do.”

It was a moment before you could pull yourself back from him and search his eyes. “I had no idea.”

He cupped your cheek in his hand, gazing at you with stars in his eyes. “Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

You laughed and kissed your best friend again.

---

The elevator dinged and you fought the urge to frown when it was Azriel, not Tom that was waiting on the other side of it. You had been slightly worried about running into him when you’d decided to bring Tom lunch, but you figured that it was a big enough company that it would be unlikely. Clearly, you were wrong.

Azriel’s eyes dropped to the bag in your hands and winced slightly. “Tom’s out to lunch with a client.”

You sighed, toying with the bag’s straps in your hands. “I guess I should’ve checked before I showed up, huh?”

He shot you that half smile that was so familiar to you, it made your knees wobble. “I think it was a last minute thing.”

You nodded, feeling awkward around Azriel for the first time in your life.

After a moment, you took a step back, and Azriel reached out, grasping your arm so you wouldn’t run into the person that was quickly walking down the hallway who you hadn’t noticed.

It was only a moment of embarrassment that you felt, because all the thoughts were quieted in your mind as you saw Azriel’s hand.

Scars. Horrible, deep scars that must have been from burns. A quick glance at his other hand showed the same thing.

You sucked in a deep breath, unable to tear your eyes away. “Az,” you whispered.

He flinched, flexing his fingers slightly, still gently wrapped around your arm.

After a moment, you raised your eyes to meet his, and your heart constricted at how sad he looked. “I think it’s time I told you the truth.”

---

You buried your face in Azriel’s chest, holding on tight. “I can’t believe I’m not going to see you for weeks.”

There were a lot of things that you couldn’t believe. You couldn’t believe that college was over. You couldn’t believe that your life was really going to start, with Azriel by your side. You couldn’t believe that Az had been dropping so many hints about rings and weddings. And you couldn’t believe that after spending nearly every day together for the past four years, that Azriel would be going home without you for several weeks.

“If you hadn't gotten a job before you even graduated like a badass, you could have come with me,” he teased, kissing the top of your head.

You groaned, tightening your hold on his waist, resting your chin on his chest so you could look up at him. “I’m gonna miss you.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss you sweetly. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart. But it won’t be long.”

You nodded, feeling slightly reassured. “I love you.”

He kissed you again, murmuring, “I love you,” against your lips.

The weeks had come and gone, and you hadn’t heard anything from Azriel. At first, you figured that he was busy, that he was soaking up the time with his family, but now you weren’t so sure.

How could it be that you hadn’t heard anything at all? Was he okay? Surely you would have been informed if something happened, right?

As more weeks passed, you knew. You knew that Azriel was not coming back. That he had abandoned you without so much as a text. He didn’t love you anymore, or maybe he never did.

The one person that had been a constant in your life since you were seven years old, was just gone, disappeared completely.

You could go home, you supposed. You knew where he had gone, after all. Your own parents were right next door. But what would be the point, if he clearly didn’t want you anymore?

Things had been perfect for so long. It didn’t make any sense. What could have possibly happened to make him throw you away so harshly?

How could you ever move on from him? From the one you had loved so intensely for so very long?

---

You were so shocked that you silently followed him to a near empty cafe just down the block.

He cleared his throat after the two of you got settled, his hands clasped beneath the table. “You know that things were always… tense with my brothers.”

You nodded, feeling completely unable to form words, wondering what he could possibly be about to say.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, and he raised his hands, placing them on the table in front of him. “When I went home after graduation, my brothers did this,” he said, nodding to his hands.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and gently tracing a prominent scar with your fingertip. Your eyes started watering, and you did your best to blink the tears away. “How could they do this to you,” you whispered.

He shrugged, way too nonchalantly for the circumstances. “I don’t know. They were… experimenting.”

“Oh my god, Az,” you said quietly, quickly brushing the tears away before they could fall. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said softly, tentatively running his thumb along your free hand. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” You asked, finally able to meet his eyes again. “Why did you just disappear?”

His eyes were swimming with emotion, guilt clouding his features. “At first I couldn’t face anyone. I just wanted to disappear completely.”

You didn’t try to hide the tears now, letting them fall freely as you focused on him, finally learning the truth.

“I was… messed up. It took me a long time to work through it and feel like myself again. And by then, I felt like it was too late to contact you and explain. I felt so guilty for just leaving without a word, and thought that you would hate me.”

You smiled sadly. “I did hate you a bit,” you admitted. “You were everything to me, Az.”

Azriel swallowed, his eyes softening. “I know. You were to me, too.”

Your mind was swirling, picturing Azriel all those years ago, hurt and alone. “I do wish you would have told me. But I do understand why. I can’t believe that happened to you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said sadly. “I should have.”

It was then you both seemed to realize that your hands were still touching and he slowly pulled away, settling his hands beneath the table again. It had felt like old times until then, and suddenly you were brought back to the present, to the world where you were married and Azriel was barely an acquaintance.

You weren’t sure where to go from there.

---

It had been a rough day. You hadn’t done well on the test you had studied all night for, you spilled your coffee all over yourself, and you hadn’t had anything to eat all day.

The moment you walked into your apartment, you knew that Azriel could tell you hadn’t had a good day.

Azriel took the backpack from your shoulders, immediately wrapping you up in his arms and resting his chin on the top of your head. “Bad day?”

You just nodded, burying your face in his chest.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Mmm…” you thought for a moment. “Food?”

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “Do you want me to make something, or do you want takeout?”

You shrugged, exhausted. “Whatever you want.”

Az suggested that you go take a shower, and assured you that he would take care of it.

By the time you walked back into the kitchen, you already felt better, dressed in your pajamas and endlessly thankful for Azriel.

He was putting your favorite comfort food on a plate as you sat at the table, warmth flooding through your chest as he placed the plate in front of you.

“Thank you so much, Az,” you sighed happily.

Azriel kissed the top of your head again, gently rubbing the tension out of your shoulders as you started eating.

A short time later, the two of you were cuddling in bed, the stress of the day completely falling away at his touch.

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” you murmured into his skin.

“You’ll never have to find out, sweetheart,” he said.

And you believed him.

---

You felt like your whole world had changed after you found out the truth of why Azriel had left. Your heart broke for him, for what he went through at the hands of his own family, and how alone he must have felt.

It kept running through your mind, all the years with Azriel, all the years without him when you were in the dark.

You tried to forget about it, tried to focus on your life now, on your life with your new husband, but it was honestly difficult. Azriel had been the most important part of your life for so long, and now that he was back in your life, even in the smallest increments, it had you thinking about the past all the time.

What made you get stuck in your thoughts even more was how off Tom seemed lately. You had never felt so distant from him, and you weren’t sure if it was because of Azriel plaguing your mind, something that was bothering Tom, or some combination of the two.

These thoughts were swirling around your mind as you ran your Saturday errands. You had asked Tom if he wanted to join you, but unsurprisingly, he had declined.

You were debating what to get in the cereal aisle when Azriel appeared beside you.

He smiled at you somewhat sheepishly. It had been weeks since that afternoon when he finally told you everything, and you hadn’t seen him since.

“How have you been?” you asked.

“The last few weeks, or the last few years?” he smiled, raising an eyebrow.

You laughed lightly, “I guess we’ve both missed a lot.”

It was hard to think about: everything about him that you had missed.

“We could… catch up? If you wanted?”

You couldn't help but hesitate. You wanted to. Of course you did. But you weren't sure if it was a good idea.

One look at his hopeful face though, and all other thoughts flew from your mind.

“Let's do it.”

The two of you finished your grocery shopping and got coffee down the street.

After only a few minutes, you both resorted back to your old selves, any awkwardness dissipating as you discussed the last few years.

You couldn't help the swell of pride you felt as he explained how he had worked his way up in the company, becoming the co-CEO, just like Tom did.

It was crazy, how he had come back into your life, and you wondered if it would be possible to go back to how you were when you were kids, if you could possibly have your best friend back.

But then you remembered college, those long nights together, when he had told you in so many different ways that you were his. How loved you felt, how perfect you thought your life would be with him.

He could sense the shift in you, you knew that he could.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Just… thinking. Remembering.”

He nodded, seemingly understanding exactly the kind of things you were remembering.

“How did you and Tom meet?” He asked, his voice dropping slightly.

It was clear that he was just trying to change the subject, and honestly, you found it difficult to tell him the story of how Tom had slowly picked up the pieces of you that Azriel had left behind. You kept it somewhat vague, not necessarily wanting to subject him to too many details. You certainly knew that you wouldn't want to hear all the gory details of whoever he had been with in the last five years.

You secretly wondered if it was hard for Azriel to work with Tom, after everything that had happened. You and Tom hadn't talked about it since that night you told him that you knew Azriel.

Before you even realized it, it had been nearly two hours, and you realized that you should get home.

“This was fun,” you said, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

“It was,” Azriel smiled back and your heart beat a little faster. “Whenever you need a friend, I'm still here for you, you know.”

“You, too.”

A few days later, Tom had told you in the morning that he would be staying at work late, and suggested that you go out with some of your girl friends. You hadn’t seen them in a while, and you thought it would be nice to spend some time not worrying over your ex and your husband.

You had been out with them for a few hours, and had returned home exhausted, but glad that you took some time to get away from everything.

Tom’s car was in the driveway, and you were a bit surprised. He was back much earlier than he said he would be.

You heard Tom’s deep grumble as you walked in the door, but what you weren’t expecting was the feminine giggle that came after it. You froze, dead in your tracks.

Surely there could be a reasonable explanation that didn’t involve your husband sleeping with another woman, right?

Although… he had been acting differently lately. Was this the reason? Had he been having an affair?

Your stomach was churning as you walked up to your bedroom, where the sounds were getting louder.

That was it, then. Was there even a point in opening the door? Was it worth it to see something that you would never be able to unsee, something that would surely haunt your nightmares?

You would need proof, you supposed, to assure that you were right. To assure that he knew what you had found out.

Like ripping off a bandaid, you quickly flung open the door, and there he was, naked in your bed with a secretary from the office underneath him.

“How cliche,” you choked out, desperate to keep any last shred of dignity that you could.

They both turned quickly to look at you, their eyes wide in surprise, Tom’s mouth open as if he was about to come up with some excuse.

But, you didn’t want to hear it. You spun on your heels and ran out of that house, into the car, and away as fast as you could. In your rearview mirror, you saw him on the lawn in his boxers, watching you leave.

You went to the only place you could think of. The only place that you knew, despite everything, you would be okay.

Suddenly, you were thankful that Azriel told you what apartment building he was now living in during your little catch-up at the cafe only days ago.

It took some time to find the right apartment, but then he was opening the door in a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants and he was looking at you with the most concerned expression.

“I really need a friend right now,” you sniffed.

As soon as he ushered you inside, the dam broke and you were sobbing, your body spasming in a way that it hadn’t done since Azriel had disappeared from your life all those years ago.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions, he just held you, settling you both on the couch and stroking your hair, murmuring reassuring things against your ear until you could breathe again.

“He cheated on me,” you finally whispered, and his arms stiffened around you. “I think he has been for a while.”

“Fuck,” he said quietly, but with more venom than you had ever heard. “I can’t believe him. I’m so sorry,” he said, his tone becoming softer as he continued to stroke your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head like he had your whole life.

A swell of emotion went through you at the contact, and you buried your face in his chest, wondering what your life would be like now if Azriel had never gone home after graduation. If he had been yours this entire time.

The way it should’ve been.

“I never thought he was good enough for you,” Azriel murmured against your ear, sounding hesitant.

“No?” you asked.

“Of course not,” he lightly ran his hand down your arm and you shivered. “He’s so cocky.”

You laughed humorlessly, leaning into Azriel’s touch. “He is, isn’t he?”

The two of you sat back in companionable silence after that, Azriel gently running his hand along your arms, your back, soothing you in ways that you couldn't fathom. You should still be furious, you thought. But instead you just felt… safe. For the first time in a long time.

“You’ve been on my mind a lot lately, Az.”

He stiffened very slightly and waited a moment before responding. “You’ve been on my mind a lot, too.”

You turned around to face him, and you swore his eyes were sparkling in the dim light, the way they used to when he looked at you. “Do you ever think about…what could have happened? If things were different.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “All the time.”

Your blood rushed in your ears as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

He pulled back, saying your name like a warning. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” You asked. “You don’t want to?”

Azriel looked pained. “It’s not that I don’t want to. You’re vulnerable right now. Your emotions are all over the place, understandably. I won’t take advantage of you.”

“Az,” you said, looking him straight in the eye. “This is the first time in five years that things feel right. I promise you’re not taking advantage of me.”

He sighed as you lightly ran your fingertips along his bicep. “It’s a bad idea.”

You couldn’t resist kissing him softly one more time. “You’re saying you don’t want to?” you murmured, pulling away just slightly.

“I’m saying,” he paused and his eyes darkened as he looked at you, “it’s a bad idea.”

“Az,” you whispered.

And that was all it took for him to mutter “Fuck,” and take your face in his hands, kissing you fiercely, like he had been drowning and you were his only source of oxygen.

You balled your fist in his shirt, pulling him closer to you, your other hand buried in the hair at the back of his neck.

He groaned and the sound brought you right back to your past, to every night you used to spend together.

Heat rushed right through you, and all at once, you couldn't get enough of him.

“I never should’ve left,” he rasped against your lips. “I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“We’re here now,” you panted, rolling your hips against his, and he held you even tighter.

It wasn’t long before you needed more, pulling his shirt up over his head. He sucked in a breath as you ran your hands down his chest, your eyes fixed on his abs, the hard lines of his arms.

He toyed with the hem of your shirt, looking at you questioningly.

When you nodded, he pulled your shirt over your head painstakingly slowly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you like he’d been waiting his whole life for this.

You kissed him again, your hands trailing down to the waistband of his pants.

Azriel wrapped his hand around your wrist, stilling your movements. “Are you sure we should go further? It’s…”

“A bad idea,” you agreed, surging forward to kiss him again.

“A really bad idea,” he murmured, holding your face in his hands again, kissing you gently.

“I want you, Az,” you sighed against him.

He groaned, pulling you closer against him and picking you up, carrying you to his bedroom.

Lowering you onto the bed, he hovered over you, kissing down your neck, across your chest.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he groaned.

“I missed you,” you admitted, pulling his pants down to reveal that he wasn't wearing any boxers.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, and within a few moments you were completely bare underneath him, and he was lining himself up with your entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his forehead resting against yours.

“I'm sure, Az,” you promised, and without another moment's hesitation, he pushed forward, slowly sliding into you.

Muscle memory seemed to overtake both of you, and you easily slid back into your old routine as he hit your sweet spot again and again while you raked your fingers down his back.

It didn't take long before you were on the edge, and you still knew him well enough to know that he was right there with you.

You held his face in your hands as you both came undone and he pressed gentle kisses along your cheekbones and your forehead as he caught his breath.

A little while later, you were laying together, tangled up in the sheets and you smiled, tracing the birthmark on his thigh.

You weren't sure where things would go from here, but you did know that in this moment, you were nothing but happy.

---

For the next few weeks, you tried to push forward and act like your life hadn't completely upended.

You got a divorce lawyer. You'd been staying at a friend's house. You had been seeing Azriel quite a bit, but you both decided it would be best to stay out of the bedroom until everything was settled with Tom, to avoid complicating things even further.

Still, you couldn't stop the butterflies that flew through your chest every time Azriel smiled at you. Tom had broken your heart, absolutely, but maybe it was giving you the chance to try things again with the one who got away.

Things seemed to be looking up, until you realized that your period was late. Really late.

Your hands were shaking as you turned the pregnancy test over and saw two little lines.

Suddenly, your world was upended all over again.

Azriel went pale the moment you told him. “You’re… staying with him?”

“What else can I do?” you asked, exasperated. “I’m pregnant, Az. This changes everything.”

“Does it? Does it change that he cheated on you, huh?” Azriel seethed.

You sighed. “You know it’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it?” he asked. “And how are you even sure the baby is his?”

“Of course it’s his,” you said, growing more and more frustrated. “It was only once, Az. It can’t be yours.”

“It can’t be? You sound like a high schooler.”

“Come on, be serious. The odds are miniscule,” you retaliated.

“No matter who’s baby it is, you can’t stay with someone who treats you like that.”

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Leave him,” he roared. “Be with me.”

“Az,” you said quietly. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he said, cupping your face in his rough hands, running his thumb along your cheekbone.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your mind, to focus, but it was impossible when he was holding you so gently and he was looking at you like that, his eyes pleading. “I … I need to think,” you stammered out.

His disappointment was obvious, but after a moment, he nodded, reluctantly taking a step back from you. “Okay,” he said gruffly. “Let me know if you need anything.”

---

Even though you were both broke, Azriel had taken you out to your favorite restaurant just because, and you were reminded for about the millionth time that you were so unbelievably in love with him.

With graduation looming and the future uncertain, you had found yourself spending as much time as possible with him. Not that you didn’t before, but now it felt heightened somehow, like you had to soak in every moment with him that you could get.

He held your hand in his across the table, toying with the ring on your middle finger, sliding it up and down over your finger, before sliding it off completely and moving it to your ring finger, running his thumb across it in its new spot.

You looked up at him and the corner of his mouth turned up into a slight smile. So, he had done it on purpose, then. Your stomach flipped.

“Looks good there,” he murmured.

Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you tried your absolute best not to read into it too much. “You’re an idiot,” you laughed.

He laughed, bringing your hand up to his mouth and brushing a kiss along your knuckles. “I’m serious,” he claimed, his smile brighter now. “The future is coming up soon, you know.”

His eyes were full of stars as you gazed at him. All you could say was, “It is.”

“When we were kids, did you ever think we would end up here? Together?” he asked suddenly.

You furrowed your brows, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. I definitely couldn’t have dreamed this up, though.” You smiled at him. “How perfect things have been, I mean.”

His expression lit up even more and you felt the butterflies in your stomach that he had given you for years. “I think I always knew deep down that we were meant to be together,” he said quietly.

“Good thing it all worked out, then,” you beamed, glancing down again at the ring he had moved.

He followed your gaze, smiling. “Of course it did. What other option is there?”

---

Your head was spinning. You didn’t know what to do. Obviously, staying with Tom would be awful, after everything he had put you through. But, this pregnancy changed things. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from his baby. And it had to be his baby, didn’t it? Nothing else made sense.

But Azriel. You hadn’t known that he felt that way. That he was so ready to jump into being with you again. Just a little while ago, you had thought that was what you wanted. But, was it still true, if you were going to be raising Tom’s baby?

It was all too much, too complicated.

You needed time alone.

After about a week without contact from Tom or Azriel, you had come to a somewhat tentative decision.

Azriel’s relief after you had told him you’re not staying with Tom was obvious, and that made it so much harder to tell him the next part: “But I’m not ready to start something with you right now,” you admitted. “I need time by myself, to move on from my failed, embarrassingly short marriage, and to figure out how to be a mom.”

He nodded, his eyes full of emotion. “I understand. I’m sorry if I put too much pressure on you.”

His soft tone made you want to weep. “You didn’t. Thank you for understanding.”

There seemed to be something else eating away at him. “What’s wrong?” you asked after a moment.

“Can we still be friends?” he asked hesitantly. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you completely again.”

You smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. “Of course we can be friends.”

And so, time passed, and it was Azriel who helped you move into your new apartment, who often drove you to doctor’s appointments, and was overall the one who was picking up the pieces of your shattered life.

He never mentioned anything romantic after that day, but you could tell when it was on his mind, and you couldn’t deny that it had been on your mind more and more as the months passed and you felt like you were healing from Tom.

But you were also more and more nervous about becoming a mother, and how in the world would you be able to juggle a new relationship when you became a mom?

It wouldn’t be an entirely new relationship, though, would it? With Azriel… in some ways it felt like no time had passed at all, you fell right back into step together. So, wouldn't a romantic relationship be the same way?

You could never be sure until you tried, and that scared you, too.

The months kept passing, and before you knew it, you were holding your baby boy in your arms, absolutely transfixed by him.

After all the excitement died down, you got to have a moment alone with him, running your hands over his tiny arms, his tiny legs.

Your fingers froze when you noticed a small birthmark on his thigh, exactly like the one Azriel had in the same spot.

Surely that meant that Azriel was right. He was the father. All this time, Azriel had been the father of your baby.

You were surprised by the intense relief you felt, the flood of emotion.

After you took a few more minutes for yourself, you invited Azriel in from where he had been patiently sitting in the waiting room for hours.

He looked relieved when he walked in, like he had been worried about you and the baby. His face softened immediately as he looked at the baby in your arms, gently running his finger along the baby’s arm. “He’s beautiful,” he murmured, before studying your face. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you smiled. “I need to show you something, Az.”

Azriel just looked at you questioningly before you turned the baby to face Azriel and pointed at the birthmark.

His brow furrowed. “That looks like mine.”

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. “I think I owe you an apology… Az, I think this is your son.”

Azriel’s eyes immediately filled with tears as he looked back and forth between you and the baby. “My son,” he whispered. “Our son.”

He let out a giddy laugh that made you want to cry and looked somewhat sheepishly at you. “Can I hold him?”

You held the baby out to him, and he gingerly took him in his arms, staring down at his face with all the love in the world.

“Are you happy?” you asked after a moment.

He looked at you incredulously, settling into the chair beside your hospital bed with your son in his arms. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m happy.”

In that moment, you knew you couldn’t wait any longer. “Azriel?” He tore his eyes away from the baby and looked at you. “Kiss me,” you whispered.

He was obviously surprised, but did as you asked, leaning in slowly and kissing you gently.

“I love you,” you whispered. “I want to be with you… if that’s still what you want.”

“Of course that’s what I want,” he laughed incredulously, leaning in to kiss you again.

He kissed you slowly until your head spun and he finally leaned back.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Not for a second.”

Your heart broke a little. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

“Don’t be,” he said gently. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

The two of you sat there, basking in the moment under the fluorescent lights. This, somehow, was everything you pictured your life would be, and now it was finally yours.

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @cigvrette-dvydrevms @lilah-asteria @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @azrielshadows1nger @marina468 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @andreperez11

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spacebarbarianweird · 1 year

Text

Astarion x f!reader. We Shall Meet Again

Read on AO3

Astarion and Tav are talking about life and death and end up talking about children tags: fluff, comfort, conversation about death and mortality Astarion mentions he wants to step into the sunlight once Tav dies so consider it a trigger warning Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

"Please, Astarion, I can walk on my own!" You try to free yourself, but the vampire drags you on his shoulders like a lifeless sack.

"No, you can't," he replies.

You let out a sigh of frustration. If only Astarion could see your expression, he would witness your disappointment.

The task seemed simple enough. The villagers promised a reward for getting rid of a troublesome troll. It should have been a routine quest for a pair of seasoned adventurers like you. And it had been until the troll hurled you against a tree. Astarion swiftly dealt with the monster, then hoisted you onto his shoulders, and now the two of you were making your way back to the village to get the reward.

"Please, just put me down," you implore.

"Your leg is broken," Astarion insists.

"No, it's not!" You let out a cry of pain as he touches the injured limb. "Fine, you win!"

Astarion chuckles softly as you continue to observe the grass and flowers below. Eventually, the fatigue overtakes you, causing you to black out. When you open your eyes again, you find yourself back in the village.

"We've agreed on five golden coins! Take your reward and go!"

"Yes, but my wife broke her leg, and now I must pay the healer," Astarion argues with a rogue smile. "Eight golden coins."

"Six! We haven't paid the tithe yet!"

"Seven. And your village healer cures her for free."

"Fine! But I don't want to see either of you ever again!"

"It can be arranged!"

The village chief throws a sack of gold to Astarion, and the vampire performs a theatrical bow as if on a stage. Then, he approaches you and gently kisses your forehead, his lips curving into a grin, though a hint of concern lingers in his crimson eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm too young to die just yet," you say as you caress his left cheek, and he closes his eyes, savoring the touch like a content cat.

"I know, but when that thing threw you at the tree, I thought for a second," he stumbles, his voice tinged with worry. "I thought you wouldn't get up."

You remember the wave of pain, the buzz in your ears, and Astarion kneeling beside you, carefully letting you drink a healing potion. He held you gently, his worry palpable as he waited for the potion to mend at least some damage.

He worries sick every time you get hurt. So do you - Astarion doesn't take physical damage easily.

The healer finally arrives, visibly annoyed that he was woken up in the middle of the night. He casts a spell on your leg, and you hear a gruesome sound as the bones fuse back together.

"You could at least be grateful for slaying that troll," you mutter.

The healer lets out a string of curses and leaves.

"Well, I think it's best if we find a spot to make camp before the sunrise," Astarion says.

"I don't think it would be safe to stay in the village anyway. They might start suspecting you're a vampire," you reply as the houses fade into the distance.

"Ungrateful lot," he chuckles.

You take his hand, and you together go into the night. It's been five years since you met at the shipwreck, five years since your unlikely union evolved into something deeper. You haven't grown tired of each other; if anything, you've grown closer, and you can't imagine spending a single night without Astarion by your side.

You are not even sure if you can fall asleep without him cuddling you.

You affectionately refer to each other as "wife" and "husband," even though there was no formal ceremony. One day, Astarion slipped a ring he'd found in a dungeon onto your finger, and you did the same after obtaining a similar one. It was as simple as that.

… The two of you stop and set up a tent as the skies lighten. The tent is crafted from thick, black material and reinforced with a darkness spell - a perfect daylight shelter for a vampire.

You've grown accustomed to the routine. At sunrise, you both go to sleep. When you wake up well past noon, Astarion stays inside, engrossed in the books you've collected on your adventures, while you head out to hunt. But sometimes, you keep the vampire company as he reads aloud.

And once the sun sets, you hit the road again. Both of you share the desire to see the world, and you want to see it together.

Exhausted from a long day of walking and the battle with the troll, you immediately fall asleep. When you wake up, you see Astarion sitting beside you, reading one of his books. The rain is pounding the tent and you feel the cold.

"Good morning," you whisper, and he runs his gentle fingers through your hair. His crimson eyes are brimming with love, but you detect an underlying unease in him.

You've always respected his privacy, but you can't help but notice his recent unease.

"Is everything all right? Do you want to talk?" You sit up, peering at the small entrance tent, shivering.

"It seems I can't keep any secrets from you," he sighs in relief. "I just… got scared yesterday. When that thing threw you. When you fell. Damn, you looked like a ragdoll! Then the troll tried to pick you up to smash you again. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to save you. That you would die."

You say nothing, resting your head on his shoulder and listening to his steady breathing.

"That's stupid. You're here. Everything is great," he says.

You sense that he doesn't honestly believe it. Mortality. Your mortality is what's troubling him. He's undead, immortal. He can only die if someone kills him or if he steps into the sun. But you will grow old and eventually pass away if you're not killed earlier.

A sudden urge to leave the tent and return at sunset washes over you, but you suppress it. You both need to address this, no matter how uncomfortable it is.

"What do you think you will do when I die?" you ask him gently.

He stares at you in horror and disbelief, as if he can't believe you've broached this topic.

"I - I don't want to have this conversation," he mutters.

"Astarion, please. We have to talk about this. My love, I know it makes you uncomfortable, but we must discuss it."

He clenches his teeth. "You can't even comprehend how much."

"I actually can because you don't seem to care about your safety, and there's a very high chance I could end up a vampire widow."

You sit before him, taking his hands and gently tracing the knuckles.

He remains silent, and the only sound is that of raindrops outside. The comfort of the warm tent makes you decide not to venture into the rain.

"I will step into the sun once you die. It's not up for discussion," he says resolutely. "I'll bid you farewell, go outside, and see the sunshine one last time. Don't worry. I'll be with you till the end."

A knot forms in your stomach as you suddenly envision Astarion cradling your lifeless body, waiting for the sun to rise.

"Don't," you abruptly say. "Don't do this."

"Well, it won't be up to you to decide," he says, his voice sending shivers down your spine. Astarion turns his head away, a signal that he wants to be alone with his thoughts.

"Okay, I'll go for a walk," you suggest, wanting some fresh air, but he grabs your hand.

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't want you to catch a cold," he insists, pulling you closer. You rest your head against his chest and you sit together in silence, lost in your thoughts.

"Astarion," you whisper. "Let me tell you something."

"If it's about death again, I'm not interested."

You hug him tightly. "No, it's about… the opposite, actually."

You carefully choose your words. "My people… My people believe in rebirth. We believe that we don't stay dead forever."

You pause, studying Astarion's face, but his pale features remain unreadable.

"When I was little, I was told that our souls come back. In a century, in a millennium. Memories return, and an old personality reawakens. It only happens to some; some are forgotten and never return. That's why we tell stories about our deceased ancestors – to help them find their way back home. Their souls must feel loved to get back."

You hug him even tighter, fearing his reaction.

"Astarion, my love, please, don't step into the sun when I die. Live. I want you to live, see the lands we won't see together, and experience things we won't experience together."

He sobs, and you look up to see his eyes closed, silent tears streaming down his beautiful face. You gently stroke his white curls.

"I want you to talk about me, to tell people stories about my adventures, about who I was. You love me deeply, and if my people are right about souls and resurrection, your memories will be the most powerful beacon in the darkest sea of death."

You release Astarion, who still avoids looking at you directly, seemingly embarrassed about his tears.

"And when that time comes, I will find you. I will embark on a quest to seek my vampire husband, and we shall meet again. You will tell me everything about the places you've visited and your adventures. People you've met, quests you've completed. Everything."

You cup Astarion's face, making him meet your gaze.

"Promise me that, my love. Promise me you will keep living." You kiss his forehead, and your heart swells when you see his smile.

"I promise," he says. "I promise I will keep going."

He lets his tears go and you are proud of him for not concealing the emotions. Then he cocks his heads and grins.

"I'll take your word for that because if I'm reincarnated and never find you, I'll be truly upset," you playfully remark.

"So will I if I keep my promise and you never return," he chuckles.

You plant kisses on his cheeks and share a lighthearted laugh.

"Are you going outside?" he asks. "It seems like it's not raining anymore."

He returns to the book he was reading.

"Go, I don't want you to stay locked in here," he insists.

"Nah, it's too cold. I'd better stay inside with you. What are you even reading there?" You try to snatch the book from his hands, but he closes it and attempts to put it away. "Since when are you embarrassed about your reading preferences?"

You try to grab the heavy black volume, but Astarion catches you and playfully puts you on your back, causing uncontrollable giggles. Now, you can't get up but still manage to stretch your hand toward the book.

"What is this?" You open it. "Dhampirs share many qualities with vampires. They walk the line between living and dead, gain heightened abilities, and have a life-draining bite. Children of vampires and mortals, they are few in number…"

You stumble. Children of vampires and mortals…

Astarion blushes. "I found this book in the troll lair. I never knew that vampires could have children. Like, real children, not cursed spawns."

You open another page with pictures depicting a young human woman with vampire fangs.

"It's written that dhampirs aren't hurt by the sun" he continues. "And they don't need blood to survive. They can easily blend with mortals, but at the same time, they are strong as the undead," he pauses. "It's like being a vampire without downsides."

Half-vampires. Dhampirs. You vaguely remember hearing about them many years ago. Is it possible for you and Astarion to have a child? And would it be right to bring a dhampir into this world?

"Now you're thinking about it too," Astarion observes.

"Guilty," you admit, still lying beneath him. You touch his back, feeling the scars through his shirt. He smiles, enjoying the sensation.

"Speaking of mortality and my promise," he continues, "I think I'll find it easier not to step into the sunlight if I have someone to care for. It would be cruel," he kisses you. "To leave a child without both parents."

You giggle.

"Am I getting this correct? You want me to give birth to a silver-curled dhampir so you won't be lonely?" you tease, pressing Astarion tighter. He doesn't answer, too occupied with undressing you.

A child. Your mind pictures a little girl who resembles both you and Astarion. A progeny. Someone to carry a piece of you both into the future.

"I don't mind," you finally say. "I actually really want this."

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #spacebarbarian fics

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jamespotterismydaddy · 8 months

Text

Lord Husband (Chapter 8)

cregan x reader

A/N: omg another update so soon? who would've thought i could do it

series masterlist

word count: 1,832 words

You’ve never looked so beautiful in your life. You know that to be a fact as you stare at your reflection in the looking glass. You made all the handmaidens leave as soon as you were readied, wanting to spend your last few moments as an unmarried woman in solitude. Now, you aren’t sure if the solitude is something you can even appreciate. You’ve waited all day for your mother to arrive, thinking she would want to spare some comforting words but now you’re starting to wonder if you’ll even see her before you become Cregan’s… before you’re no longer her’s. It’s disheartening to think about how desperately you wish that you could revert back to your childhood. It’s almost all you can think about, swimming in the sea with Jace and Luke, playing dolls with Baela and Rhaena, resting your head in your mother’s lap as he fingers run through your hair, Daemon’s voice whispering a story about Valyrian dragonlords in the background. They’re such fond memories but you hate it when they fill your head because you’ll never feel that way again.

“You’re a vision.” You didn’t hear him come in. You didn’t even hear him knock. Did he knock?

“Thank you, kepa.” father. Sometimes it feels strange to call him that. Especially when you know you used to call Laenor the same thing.

Daemon walks over to you. “You will do well here.” He says as his hand grasps your chin gently but he is still forcing you to look in his eyes.

“Will I?” You ask just as gently as he touches. “Is that how you felt about Runestone? Is this what you wanted for me?” His grip tightens.

“My clever girl.” He says thoughtfully. “Clever enough to know it’s different. This marriage is necessary.”

“At least it isn’t one of your daughters being sold to the North, right?”

“You are my daughter. You also know that Baela and Rhaena help your brothers through marriage.” It’s left unsaid but it’s in the air.

Baela and Rhaena make my bastard brothers look more legitimate.

“And I suppose I don’t need such help?”

He sighs. Of course you don’t, is what he’s thinking. You have a claim to nothing. You inherit nothing. You’re just a girl.

“Can you believe me when I say that Cregan Stark is the best match for you? Your mother and I didn’t have you betrothed on a whim. We would not be so careless about your future.”

Your mother said nearly the same thing and you think you could open your mouth to agree with him but Rhaenyra arrives at the door.

“Mother.” You hate how you breathe out the word in relief.

There’s tears in her eyes. “My perfect girl.”

You notice the dripping ruby earrings in her hands.

“For me?”

“Of course. They were your grandmother’s.” She comments as she walks over, taking your own earrings out gently before putting in the rubies. They’re more simple than what you have on but clearly the better choice. “She wore them on her wedding day.”

“Did you wear them on your’s?”

“No… I didn’t.” The fact seems to hurt her. “She would be happy to know that you’re wearing them.”

“Thank you.” Is all you can seem to say. Even Daemon senses the tension in the dynamic.

“They’ll be ready for us soon. You ought to make way so you don’t miss the ceremony, Rhae.” Your stepfather says and your mother seems to agree.

She grabs your hands, giving them a fleeting kiss before she’s out the door.

You think you dissociate for the next ten minutes. Actually, you know you do because there can’t be another explanation for how you’ve come to be at the edge of the Godswood. Your breath freezes up in front of you. It’s snowing; you wonder if that’s a good thing. Brides often dread rain on their wedding days. Should you dread the snow? You can’t imagine doing such a thing when it’s this beautiful. The little flakes drape themselves on your eyelashes, across your hair. They melt into your warm cheeks. You wonder if it makes you look prettier because as your eyes follow their way up the aisle to Cregan, you think they make him look prettier. He’s shrouded in a fur cloak. Tiny snowflakes decorate it and his hair. He’s the embodiment of a northernman.

You’re clinging to Daemon as you’re brought up the aisle, clutching his arm like he’s a piece of driftwood that might save you from drowning. Perhaps it’s more like a child clinging to her mother’s skirts, about to be ripped away by slavers. There’s so many unfamiliar faces in the audience, so many people who will be your subjects in a sense. You’re cold as you reach the front, almost shivering.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” You don’t recognize the man who stands at the front. He must be some sort of relative to your betrothed.

Daemon speaks for you, saying your name, “of House Velaryon, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” You wish at the very least that you could say the words yourself but of course, that would be silly to think.

“Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?” His voice is firm and steady. You know he’s looking right in your eyes as you look over his shoulder to avoid eye-contact.

“Daemon, of House Targaryen, husband to her mother.”

“Princess, will you take this man?” The officiator speaks again.

Now you look in Cregan’s eyes. You can see the pleading in them. It’s so hidden and almost overshadowed by his clear pride but it’s there, no matter how much he doesn’t want it to be. You don’t know if he pleads for you to not embarrass him or if he pleads for you to want him. It’s of no consequence.

“I take this man.” Now is it relief in his eyes or pity?

He takes your smaller and much colder hand in his, sending a flush of warmth through you before you both kneel in front of the heart tree. Everything is silent for the prayers that are meant to be between you and the Old Gods. You suppose you should say something to the gods that you now claim but you can’t think of a single thing.

You and your husband rise now and he removes your Velaryon cloak to place one of House Stark over your shoulders. He cringes at the way you practically wince. You already miss the loss of colour. He then takes your arm, people clap and you’re led to the feast.

“You’re colder than ice.” He murmurs, taking your freezing hands in his to try and warm them.

This is the first thing he says to you?

“Is the snow a bad omen?” It’s the only thing you can think about right now. You can’t get the idea of it out of your head.

He didn’t seem to think you were going to say that. “I would not have thought that you cared much for northern omens.”

You’re just silent in response.

“It’s good luck.” He says. The answer doesn’t necessarily please you. “You look wonderful today, wife.”

Wife.

“I don’t think i’ve seen a woman so beautiful in my whole life.” You gaze up at him as he says it and he’s just staring straight ahead. It’s like he’s stating just pure facts and not an opinion.

“You look… very nice as well.” You reply, hating how his comment made you blush.

He takes you to the main table in the hall, holding out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. All the other guests file in. You’re more than glad that you don’t have to talk to them until after the feast. Though, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to down a single bite, finding more comfort in your wine goblet instead.

The Queen stands and raises her glass. “To Lord Stark and his beautiful wife, my lovely daughter.” All the northerners cheer. You notice how well your brothers and stepfather seem to enjoy the rowdy bunch. You, on the other hand, are trying to keep the bile down.

Cregan places a hand on your upper back, rubbing gently. “Perhaps some food to go with your drink?” His eyes have no judgement in them, only worry. He noticed right away that you’re eating like a mouse.

“If I want food, then i’ll eat.” You snap at him slightly and he just sighs. The wine is starting to go to your head more and more.

“I know. I know you can take care of yourself. I just take my duty as your husband seriously.” You hate the tenderness behind his words. It’s hard to be cruel to a man so kind. So, you say nothing.

The feast comes to a natural end and clearly people want to dance and celebrate so you don’t protest when Cregan takes your hand.

You feel like a fairy, floating on air as you dance. Your head is empty and your body is light as your husband lifts and twirls you. You look so peaceful to him at the moment, calm and angelic. He wonders if he should have been more firm about discontinuing your wine consumption but he’s also so pleased about how content you look.

You dance the whole evening away, exhausting yourself as you take the hand of almost every man who asks. You don’t even feel real. It’s like you’re above the clouds when you move.

It’s Daemon who halts the fun. After you dance with him, he brings you back to the table. “Are you trying to drink yourself into the ground, sweetling?”

“Yes.” You say bluntly.

“Hmm.” He sighs. He understands why you behave this way. “Understandable, but I won’t see you with another goblet for the rest of the night.”

You have to hold in your eye roll but you still obey.

You slowly start to sober up over the next hour and it’s sickening. Your melancholy seems to grow as the alcohol leaves your system and your heart drops when someone calls for the bedding. You hope it’s nothing like a southern bedding ceremony even if you doubt that your mother would allow such a barbaric tradition to befall her daughter.

Cregan makes his way through the crowd to you. He speaks once he is by your side, “There is this tradition in the North, as a symbol of protection and strength, the groom will often carry his bride to bed on their wedding night. Will you allow me to carry you?”

“I would not deprive you of tradition.” You try to keep your words from slurring.

Everyone is watching as your husband takes you in his arms. There’s no goodbyes as you’re whisked away for your wedding night.

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Lord husband: @feyres-fireheart @possiblyafangirl @hb8301 @marihoneywk @youn-jo @velvet-spider @janelongxox @ninastyless @nyctophilic0vitnir @m-a-s-h-k-a @delicious-xx @weepingfashionwritingplaid @happinessinthebeing @betelrus @joliettes @black-swan-blog27 @mxtokko @valeridarkness @karolalolla @satan-s-ass @synindoodles @a-beaverhausen @petertingle3000 @lunnnix @hermaeusmorax @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @purplegardenwhispers

#cregan stark #cregan #cregan stark fic #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #hotd fic #house of the dragon #hotd #lord husband

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gaysindistress · 7 months

Text

gif credits to @sebastianstannibal

Here's part two to the fake dating drabble I wrote for @bucks-and-noble's Valentrope fest

warnings: smut and lowkey violence but not to f!reader. plain and simple this is porn. please do not read if you're a minor.

bucky's masterlist | main masterlist

“I’m apologizing right now for what you’re about to walk into.”

Bucky clears his throat and readjusts in the driver’s seat as we slowly drive down the long driveway lined with manicured hedges.

“What are you talking about?”

The wedding that I dragged him to is for a friend that Bucky isn’t particularly fond of, something I neglected to mention but I knew he wouldn’t agree if I told him. Honestly I’m surprised that he hasn’t caught on yet with how many signs we’ve passed on the way to the venue. He’s been rather distracted stealing glances at me.

“Aw fuck,” he curses when he finally does see the biggest sign yet. “This is Maisie’s wedding, isn’t it?”

Cocking my head at him, I bat my lashes and pout my lips, “Forgive me?”

He inhales sharply. Against his better judgment, glances at my glossy lips and then to my chest. The sweetheart neckline as well as the bias cut of my navy dress is exactly why I chose to wear it. Bucky’s always had a wandering eye when it comes to ‘an angel in the flesh’ as he puts it but right now it’s down right sinful. He’s eyeing me like the Devil lurks beneath his matching navy Armani suit and he’s ready to devour me whole.

“You owe me after this,” he finally says with a dramatic sigh.

The ceremony went exactly how I imagined it would ourlPampas grass, dried sage, and red flora that I’ve never seen before covers every inch of the aisle as well as every other surface. Burnt orange cheesecloths drape from the trees, the six different wood arches, and run across all of the tables. The signs that Maisie definitely had her bridal party help her make are everywhere and written on them are sayings that Bucky can’t stop making jokes about.

“Babe, I can’t make this up. That sign says ‘This way to buffet, booze, and bad dance moves.’ What ring of hell is this?”

“Oh my god, Bucky, you need to shut up. These are the type of people to say ‘bless your heart’ and pray for god to smite you in your sleep,” I whisper to him. I loop my arm around his and he’s quick to put his hand over the top of mine on his bicep.

“If it gets me away from this place, then I’d welcome it.”

I roll my eyes at him and keep us moving towards the open field where the reception is at.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

I tense beside my fake boyfriend and hesitantly look over my shoulder to see the one person I did not expect to see here; my ex boyfriend Marc.

“If that’s who I think that is,” Bucky grumbles and curses under his breath when he sees who it is. “I’m going to kill Maisie. Why would she invite that cunt?”

“Bucky, behave.” I mumble to him and turn to greet this cunt, “Marc, hi how are you?”

The first thing he does is look me up and down, eyes lingering on my chest just as I expected. Bucky’s arm slips from mine and finds its way around my waist where he tugs me into his side and squeezes my hip. Marc smirks at his actions as he finally makes eye contact with me.

“I’m good. I see your dog finally worked up the courage...”

Bucky cuts him by clearing his throat, “You’d do well to remember that this ‘dog’ isn’t with a bite.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Have the evening you deserve,” I tell him before I drag Bucky away and towards whatever shit bar they have.

The dog on my arm has other plans and pulls me off to the side where there’s just a tree with even more cheesecloth swinging in the wind. He glances around to make sure no one is around before letting his hardened demeanor fall away and to reveal the adorable face he makes when he’s stressed. It’s not healthy to think that someone in a vulnerable state is ‘adorable’ but I can’t help it when his brows furrows together, his jaw tenses, and he looks at me with all the concern in the world.

“Doll I need you to be honest with me right now; how many more people like that am I going to run into at this thing?”

That concern has morphed into something darker and it has me straightening my back, squaring my shoulders, and my thighs clenching.

“Well I didn’t know that he…” I trail off as Bucky draws closer. His blue eyes are piercing into the fabric of my soul the closer he gets to me and I find myself backing up to get away. Rough bark scratches at my back and my hair gets tangled into it as I crane my head up to look at the mob boss.

“I’m going to have to stop you there. Who else could be here?”

Chest heaving and breathing short, I shake my head at him. “I don’t know. I didn't see anyone else.”

A hand finds its way to my jaw and the other plants itself against the tree next to my head. He tilts my chin up and ghosts his lips over mine while calling me a good girl. My eyes flutter shut at the name and his low voice.

“Tell me your rules again.” He pulls away from me and watches me with hooded eyes as I glare at him.

“No kissing, minimal touching, and no violence,” I spit out at him.

“I think,” he starts, letting his eyes flicker to my parted lips as his thumb rubs under them, “we should revise them a bit.”

“What do you propose they be then?”

“No violence is changed to only when necessary,” his thumb presses into my bottom lip. “Minimal touching becomes whatever I see fit,” it pulls my lip down slightly. “And no kissing goes away altogether,” it slips into my mouth and I greedily wrap my lips around it, sucking at it while he lets out a shuddered breath.

I let it go with a pop and a thin line of spit breaks after his thumb comes to rest on my chin.

“What do you say, doll?”

Pushing away from the tree, I grip the lapels of his jacket and pull him flush against my chest. I push up onto my toes and flick his earlobe with my tongue before whispering, “this is all fake. You don’t get to change the rules because you don’t like them. They stay exactly as they are.”

The look of determination set on his face is immensely satisfying especially. I’ve seen how his past girls have completely submitted to him, allowing him to control every aspect of their relationship because that’s how he likes it. Bucky is a man that needs to feel powerful and stable at all times and that extends to even the smallest things. Many of our nights out have been ruined for some reason or another. Most of the time I don’t even know why, just that I’m being shuffled out the back door with a circle of heavily armed men around me while Bucky deals with the mistake.

“I know you’re not a gambler, my sweet y/n but I’d like to make a bet with you.”

I quirk a brow, “what kind of bet?”

“If you haven’t broken your rules by the end of the night, I’ll take you to Greece. If you break or even bend them, you have to go on a date with me.”

My hands stop brushing down his lapels and I stare blankly at him. “Greece and Italy. For three weeks.”

“Whatever you want, doll but,” he warns me with a finger raised between us and points it at me, “you can’t break your rules even a little bit.”

I snap at him, pretending to bite his finger and he yanks it back with a smile. “You have a bet but keep your finger to yourself.”

Bucky nods with a smile still wide on his stunning face. He backs up, giving me space to make myself presentable again before taking us back to the reception. It’s already turned into an event of debauchery and sin with guests taking shots, hitting pens, and forming a grinding circle on the dance floor.

Maisie finds me within moments and screams as she races over to me.

“Y/n babe! Oh my god! You’re here!” She shrieks and pulls me into a bone crushing hug. She has two shots in her hand and they nearly spill on my back but somehow the drink girl prevents that from happening.

Bucky chuckles before leaving us to go find drinks. Maisie shoots him a dirty glare before it turns into a drink smile and she’s vibrating with glee.

I arch a brow at her, “what was that for?”

She blinks at me. “What was what?”

“That look you gave him.”

“Ohhhhh,” she sighs and shoves a shot into my hand, “that. You know I don’t like him and now you guys are dating and ugh. He’s always such an ass and controlling and moody and I don’t understand what you see in him. He’s a dick and I just..”

“Okay okay, I get it. You don’t like him,” I roll my eyes at her, “but you said the same thing about Marc and he’s here.”

“No, there's a difference. Jake and him are friends. Also are you really arguing with me at my wedding? That’s really fucking rude,” Maisie tries to sound stern but giggles slip out between her words and her smile breaks her expression. “Come on! Come have fun with me. I wanna dance and drink and have fun! Take your shot, you pussy!”

I playfully growl at her before we both throw back the tequila shots. Before I can say something smart back, she has an iron grip on my wrist and is dragging me to the dance floor. The music pounds so loud that I feel it in my chest, worming its way around my body and getting me high off the adrenaline. Unable to feel the difference between my heartbeat and the bass, I allow it to overcome me as Maisie starts to bounce and sway in front of me. It’s as if the deep vibrations of the music are controlling and contorting our bodies in whatever way it sees fit. My eardrums feel like they might burst but the tequila is hitting faster than I thought it would and my only concern is dancing.

I find myself so completely entranced with the music, the drinking, and Maisie’s chaotic dancing that I don’t notice the big hands that find my waist. They pull me backwards causing my back to hit a solid body and the smell of familiar expensive cologne washes over me. Maisie grins as her new husband does the same to her and she turns her head so they can kiss like sloppily teenagers. The hands at my waist start to guide my hips into a lazy grind against theirs. Maisie’s overwhelming perfume masks the differences in the one behind me so much that I don’t even notice that it’s not the same as the one Bucky wears. Where I should be smelling Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille, Blue de Chanel is in its place.

My eyes flutter closed and my head drops back against the chest behind me. There’s a rumbling at my back from the chuckle that this man lets out. One of his hands leaves my waist and trails up until it’s resting on my neck. Cradling my jaw, he softly kisses under my ear before whispering, “you finally escaped your dog?”

I hear Maisie say my name and she draws my focus from the man behind me to her. She’s offering her hand out to me as she rubs her nose. There’s a thin white line across the top of her hand and her thumb.

“Maisie, is that coke?” I hiss at her and try to pull away from my dance partner. He doesn’t let me and I whip around to see that it’s Marc. The cologne makes sense now and I rip his hands off of me, “Jesus Christ get away from me!”

“Oh my god, calm down. You’re so dramatic sometimes,” Maisie whines before snorting the line she’d offered me.

Marc’s heated stare starts to get under my skin and a shutter races through me before I can stop it. My eyes frantically scan the crowd, searching for the oceanic ones that I see in my dreams every night.

They find me in moments.

A mix of emotions floods me as we lock eyes; first a wave of relief quickly followed by fear. Even from this distance I can see the tension in his shoulders, the muscle feathering in his jaw, the scowl set on his face, and the dead look in his eyes that he only gets when murder is on his mind.

Marc yanks me back into him and the countless memories of arguments and bitter looks rush back to me. When we dated he knew exactly how to piss me off, how to push every button I had and get under my skin. He would challenge me any chance he got, making me feel small and insignificant. He would say the cruelest things to invade my mind and destroy my self esteem.

“Stop fucking around, Marc.” Bucky sighs with a deep set scowl as he comes to stand before us. “Let go of her and I’ll think about letting you keep your hands.”

Marc’s grip tightens around my bicep as he scoffs, “oh I’m so scared. The big bad wolf is threatening me, whatever ever am I going to do? Fuck off Barnes.”

The crowd around us is none the wiser to the chaos that is about to erupt and quite frankly I don’t even think I know what’s about to happen. Maisie’s husband pulls her away when she tries to step between the three of us and keeps her against him. Bucky dips his head and rubs at his eyes as he lets out another annoyed sigh. He mumbles ‘alright’ as her his breath before flipping back his suit jacket, reading behind himself, and producing his favored Glock 19. It’s aimed directly at the invisible red mark between Marc’s eyes and my ex immediately drops me in favor of throwing his hands up in the air.

“Now step back,” Bucky utters as he slowly stalks towards us. I side step as best as I can to get out of the way. Marc does as he’s told and of course Bucky needs to pour salt in the wound. “The next time I see you I won’t give you a warning.”

Neither man moves until Bucky pretends to lunge forward and Marc stumbles backwards to get away. He turns his attention to Maisie while he tucks his gun away and extends a hand out to me.

“And you,” he starts with a sharp nod to her, “you do something like that again and I’ll wire your husband’s balls to a railroad track, do you understand me?”

“Bucky,” I whisper to him with a light pull on his hand but he doesn’t budge.

“Do you understand me?” He repeats and Maisie nods frantically while her husband looks pale and like he might throw up.

“Bucky,” I try again and he glances at me before squeezing my hand and leading me away.

“Excuse me!” I try again and come to a complete halt once the wedding is behind us. My hand slips from his and so does my sense of safety. Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment at my tone before going back to their usual dead expression.

He sets off in a near jog to the car, leaving me behind. “You fucking prick,” I curse before running to catch up with him. I grab his arm and force him to stop. “What the fuck was that back there?”

I apparently didn’t realize how close we were because when he turns around, we’re chest to chest. His nose is flared from how hard he’s breathing and his eyes are piercing as he stares down at me.

“No one,” he whispers as he leans into me, “gets to treat you like that.”

“I know but no violence was one of my rules and you…”

He cuts me off, “Doll, I’m not the man you seem to think I am. Who I am around you, how I act around you is not the same man everyone else sees. I wash the blood off of my hands before I visit you because I don’t want my girl to be tainted by the shit I do. I change suits so that you don’t smell the stench of guns and filth that permeates my business meetings. I keep men assigned to you around the clock so that no one gets close to you without me knowing. The man I am with you, y/n, is someone that no one else gets to see and that's the way I want to be. I don’t you to know the Bucky that my men know and that’s why I let you drag me here as your fake boyfriend and agree to your silly fucking rules. I respected the fact that you didn’t want to change them and I was fully prepared to bite my tongue but then Marc put his hands on you. That was unacceptable and I should’ve shot him right then and there but I didn’t because you would’ve never forgiven me. I can live without a lot but you aren’t someone I’m willing to give up.”

My eyes flicker to his lips, betraying my need to maintain control over my emotions and the situation. My hands drift up his arm and stop on his chest. His heart thumps steadily against my hand despite his confession and the night in general.

“I’m not willing to give you up either,” I cooed and pulled him down into a passionate kiss before he could stop me. He grunts in surprise before kissing me back with equal fire and cradling my face in his hands.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, “You owe me a date.”

“Fuck off,” I mumble back and dive back into a searing kiss. His hands find my waist and pin me against him, causing his hard bulge to press into my abdomen. I can feel myself start to grow wet as he head dips down to press kisses along the curve of my neck. I inhale sharply, craning my neck further to the side to allow him more access. His lips latch onto my pulse point as my fingers lace into his hair, tugging at the short styled strands.

A particularly sharp tug causes him to groan against my skin and he pulls away to meet my lustful gaze.

“Backseat now,” he orders while taking a step back. It doesn't register what he means at first but another step away and reality sets in. I take my heels off, keeping our eyes locked as I slip off my birthday present from him last year.

“Doll,” he says slowly, “I said…”

“I heard what you said,” I throw over my shoulder as I strut past him and towards his car.

The second I open the car door his hands are gripping my waist to hoist me inside as he climbs in behind me. Bucky moves me to sit on his lap and he silences any chance of me arguing with a hungry kiss. His hands burn as they knead and grope at the silk of my dress, desperately searching for a handful of me as he licks at my lips to let his tongue in. His lips are soft, a beautiful surprise as his calloused hands as they slide against my own, no doubt smearing my lipstick all over.

Finally fed up with the silky fabric of my dress, his hands find their way under where he grabs a handful of my ass. The feeling of his warm hand against the slivers of skin that peak through my lace underwear causes us both to moan. The sound has me unbuttoning his jacket and shoving it off his shoulders before moving to his shirt. One of his hands stays on my ass, beginning to knead it as the other attempts to find the zipper at my back.

“Shit Doll,” he moans out as my cold hands get his shirt undone and explore the expanse of his chest. He bucks up into me and I break the kiss to dive my head down to his neck to place open-mouthed kisses there. Breathless moans and sighs fall from his lips as our hips move in sync.

The strong hand that is on my ass has migrated from groping the supple fat to playing with the waistband on my panties. He lifts his hips to sit lower in the seat and spreads his legs, prying mine apart in the process. Those thick digits slip down until they find the wet heat he’s caused. His palm cups me entirely and I whimper against his neck at the feeling.

“Fuck, don’t tell me you’re this wet because i threatened that cunt?”

All I can do is gasp when he pushes aside my panties and runs his middle finger through my folds. It slips between my folds and I curse his name. My back arches in as he runs another finger through them and spreads the wetness around my clit.

“Yes, oh my god, yes,” I pant out. If it wasn’t for his fingers pushing into me, I would’ve been horrified at the desperate desire that’s ripping wanton moans from my swollen lips.

The feeling of his thick fingers scissoring as his thumb finds my clit causes me to moan into his mouth. The familiar tightening in my stomach is building until it crashes over me while gasps and quiet chants of his name mark the beginning of the end. I clench around his fingers as my eyes flutter shut and I allow myself to fall into the blinding white light that’s consuming me. He removes his hands from my core to grip my hips again.

I lean in for a deep kiss as my hips start to rock against his clothed cock, grinding my sensitive clit over him with a gasp. One of my hands finds his belt and quickly unbuckles it before diving in his pants to find his cock. Bucky lets out a shuddering sigh at the feeling of my hand gripping him and giving him a few tugs, spreading his precum around the tip.

“Careful Doll,” he warns against my lips as I rub his tip against my clit, “You don’t want to tease me.”

“And what are you going to do if I decide…” he interrupts by maneuvering me by the waist and slamming me down onto his cock. My hands fly to his chest to steady myself from the sudden movement and we both let out sinful moans. He moves us at a fast and bruising pace, hitting every spot I didn’t know existed. Nothing compares to the way he feels, not my own fingers, a toy, or any past lover. I can’t help the way that I frantically grind down against him. I can feel the car begin to shake from the force of our bodies searching for our mutual releases. My legs feel like they are on fire from keeping myself upright over Bucky but it doesn’t matter. His strong grip does the work for me.

The smell of pure sex is thick in the air while mixing with the filthy wet sounds of hips meeting each other and two people finding endless pleasure in each other. My orgasm is fast approaching once again and so is his when he starts let out broken moans and curses. “F-fuck…” he groans, “I can feel it, doll. Come for me. Let go with me.”

"Yes please," I pant back. "Don't stop, please."

He squeezes his eyes tight as he thrusts up a few more harsh times before he becomes sloppy and moves a hand to rub at my swollen clit. The sudden touch sends a jolt through me and I cry out over and over again as my orgasm washes over me. Bucky pants out my name as he too releases and wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. As we both start to come down from our highs, he places light kisses against my forehead and hair.

Soft and quiet praises are muttered into my skin, “Did so good for me, doll. So proud of you. Absolutely perfect.”

Maybe dragging him to this wedding was a good idea.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #mob au #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob bucky au #mob!bucky #mob!au #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #marvel smut #mob bucky smut #smut

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stardustedseas · 13 days

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because of an ask @sleeplessdreamer14 sent in i now cant stop thinking about marrying ford after college, like that year between when you two graduate has to be the most agonizing months ever. youre so close to being able to marry him but it feels so so far

he would be very adamant that he isnt gonna marry you until after you BOTH graduate, no matter how much you beg and plead. not only would it be a hindrance on getting your education but also he just,,,, feels like you would still be too young for him to marry, and say it with me folks, even if youre only a year apart in age. plus youre both so young, he doesnt want you to end up regretting it later on :(

still, he saves and saves and saves to buy you a ring, the most gorgeous ring he can find. its not like 10k dollars nor does it have a diamond the size of your fist, its fairly simple so you can still wear it without it getting in the way of doing anything, but its very nice and beautiful. he probs took so long picking it out, he looked at every single jewlery store within 100 miles, it has to be perfect after all!! its for you, the love of his life, his soulmate, the one he cant picture his life without. he knows you dont care about such things, he could give you a bread bag twist tie and you would still love it, but he really wants to get you something nice.

when he finally finds the one, he struggles to not break and ask you right away. he cant wait to see the pretty metal on your finger, showing to the world that you are his and he is yours. he keeps it hidden away in the back of his closet, far from where you could accidentally find it, he still gets nervous you will stumble upon it tho. he also checks on the ring like every other day, what if something happend? what if something fell and crushed it or there was a leak and it rusted or it was stolen or- he worries about it daily.

he will get lost in thought imagining asking you, your reaction, your wedding, your honeymoon... he could spend hours day dreaming. he would make sure his tie matches your dress/suit/your own tie, and even though the wedding would be small, just your family and a few friends, and simple since you two are still just young adults who have just graduated, it would still be the best wedding a person could ask for

gnawing my arm off at imagining he had a whole thing planned out to propose to you, something super romantic and well thought out but when he sees you up on that stage accepting your degree? and how you seem to shine even brighter under the spotlights? he cant help but blurt out 'will you marry me?' the second you and him meet up after your graduation ceremony.

you say yes ofc

#stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader

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azrielbrainrot · 8 months

Text

Fire on Fire

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Description: Being female in the Autumn Court was hard enough before you got engaged against your will. You try to avoid your fate at any cost.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3966

Notes: Writing Eris is hard, I hope this isn't too bad. Also meant for this to be so much shorter but oh well. Feedback is always appreciated! (unless you're mean about it)

Fire on Fire Masterlist

You watch elegant gowns in all shades of green and orange against tasteful brown and scarlet three piece suits flowing to the music. Your own floor length gown is a muted burnt orange that complimented your figure enough not to be considered provocative. The dress is undeniably beautiful but you would have liked it more had you been allowed to choose it for yourself, it was only upon arriving that you realized the color was meant to match your fiancé's. Orange and burgundy, symbolizing the fire in your hearts, burning for each other. Such a shame you didn't choose him either.

Lively music and laughter can be heard all around the extravagantly decorated ballroom. A proper celebration fit for… you can't even remember what the purpose of this ceremony was. Just another in a long list of mindless parties you aren't allowed to fully indulge in, celebrating people you don't like or traditions you'd rather never participate in.

In any other situation you might have loved to take in the beautiful decorations around the room and lose yourself in the music, dancing and laughing to your heart's desire. But, as you stare at the same intricately decorated chandelier, with magical flames swaying to the beat, you can't take your mind off the people around you.

Your engagement ring clinks against your wine glass slightly, both useless props. You were only allowed a couple modest sips of the wine before putting it aside, as no female should indulge in such a thing, let alone an unmarried one. And the ring seemed more like a mockery than anything else. It symbolized your purpose in this life, to be someone's trophy wife just as your parents had raised you. You think a noose around your neck would feel less haunting.

Thankfully, your parents had left you alone shortly after arriving, letting you sit by one of the tables while you watched the celebration from afar. They must have been content with your demure act, the promised beauty standing off by the side while the married and unclaimed fae reveled in the center of the room. You wonder if you approached the table filled with deliciously smelling goods your mother would winnow to you, lest you look fat in your already too tight corset. It's not even worth the effort for a simple bite of food, you'd rather starve until you're alone.

With a soft sigh you let your eyes wander away from the chandeliers, if you stare at them any longer you might blind yourself with the flames. Pretending no one else was here was an impossible feat anyway. As much as your room feels like a prison sometimes, you'd give anything to go back home right now.

Your eyes meet your future husband's and a chill immediately runs through your body. Eris looks as impeccable as ever in his intricately decorated suit, not a line or hair out of place just as it was expected of the Autumn Court Heir. There is no doubt that he is an exceptionally handsome male, you don't even want to imagine how many fae would kill to be in your place. It's just a shame that his personality is less than desirable, and so is his attitude towards you, and his manners when no one is looking, and that he was the final nail on the coffin that is your stupid fate.

You knew an arranged marriage would eventually become your reality ever since you were a child and your father had told you not to bother with romance, he'd pick someone suitable to marry you and all you had to do was be good to him. In his eyes love is not worth it. You wonder if he even believes it exists, he's certainly never felt it, not even for you, his own child. It makes you feel more at ease knowing no one has ever loved him either, as cruel as that might make you.

For a while you didn't pay your future too much mind, you'd have secret crushes, read romance books behind everyone's backs and even had fleeting affairs when you were a teenager, but it came to a point where you couldn't ignore your fate anymore. When you were freshly seventeen, your mother started intensifying her lessons on how to be a good wife and a good mother - this was the biggest irony since she had never been anything but cruel to you - and your time was consumed with preparations for a future you'd rather run from.

Shortly after, your father put you officially on the market for a husband that would compliment the family's powers, and the High Lord himself came forth, interested in having you marry his eldest son. You knew your family's power was coveted in the Autumn court, your fire was only second to the Vanserra line and the current Lady of Autumn, but this still came as a surprise for you and your family as the High Lord never appeared interested in you. There was no point deluding yourself anymore, your fate as a glorified brooding mare was staring you right in the face.

You had briefly thought of escaping, but the chances of succeeding were slim and you had nowhere to go. You knew the other courts didn't operate on such archaic rules, for the most part at least, but you were also aware that none would accept an autumn court noble female. Your High Lord had burned every bridge with the other courts a thousand times over. You didn't blame any of them for being wary of anything that crawled out of this sickening court.

Words cannot describe how much you hate Beron and everything he stands for which is a good thing because you'd be burned alive in public for speaking those words out loud. Still, you know your feelings of hatred could never hold a candle to Eris' distaste for his own father, and this is how your bargain came to be.

Upon hearing that your future husband would be the heir to the Autumn Court, you had only felt fear like never before. Eris had a reputation of cruelty that preceded him, he was a favorite for the throne among the despicable nobles of this court for a reason after all, but following your first meeting, you had seen a side of him that you'd bet not even a handful of people had glimpsed before and had ultimately came to an agreement that benefitted both of you: you'd push back the date for as long possible while playing the role your fathers expected of the both of you and, if you were lucky, you'd be able to avoid the marriage altogether when Beron wasn't High Lord anymore.

Eris wanted to dispose or Beron, burn down the ruins of this old-fashioned, cruel court and have Autumn be reborn from the ashes. You never intend to call him your husband, but you would gladly help him so you could, one day, come to call him your High Lord.

He observes you for a few heartbeats before downing the content of his glass and setting it aside. In the next moment he's walking straight to you, not ever letting his eyes stray or giving you a moment to breathe.

You can't help but think he looks every bit the High Lord in this moment, with his suffocating power untamed and wicked gaze trained on you. Eris walks to you in slow, intentional steps, like a predator would walk to his prey. His three piece suit was clinging to his frame perfectly, showing off his physique with every step. The pushed back hair only made the intensity in his eyes more noticeable and the strands he left out were framing his face perfectly. Eris looked extremely handsome from afar but he's suffocatingly entrancing when he stands in front of you.

You barely exchange pleasantries before he holds a hand out to you. You can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you, observing every interaction in hopes of finding any detail to gossip about. They all know your marriage is arranged but they're under the impression that, as a female, landing the most sought-after bachelor in the court was your endgame. And there are plenty of people who would go to extreme measures to ensure that they or their family member would be the one becoming the next Lady of Autumn. You're not sure if they'd spare you even if you told them you didn't want anything to do with the title.

“Time to put on a show, doll.” Trying not to let your face show the distaste of the petname he chose for you all those years ago, you take his hand and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

The music changes right before you start, the band knows this is one of the highlights of the evening - the heir and his fiancé. People will be talking about this moment for the next weeks, it's not often you and Eris interact in public after all, just enough for him to show his claim on you as your father so eloquently put it.

Eris leads you through the dance effortlessly, your body following instinctively in turn. You've yet to see him be less than amazing at something. You wonder what kind of picture the two of you paint, moving together so gracefully to the music, orange against burgundy, fire on fire.

“How are you enjoying the evening?” You'd rather he was quiet and ignored you in these moments you have to show up together in public like so many husbands and fiancés do. Eris loves to fan the flames and it's just your luck that they're usually yours. He might not have as much as to lose if you snap and let your fire show, but Beron wouldn't let him go unpunished if his fiancé caused a scene.

“Lovely,” you make sure your gaze is both timid and kind, avoiding his gaze as if you were inferior to him. As he spins you around and brings you in closer, you add in a hushed tone, “Haven't been allowed to eat since this morning and my hair is pulled up so tightly I can barely think.”

“You females sure have it rough.” He means it as a sarcastic comment but you've known him long enough to identify the distaste behind his words. Eris doesn't have the liberty to speak his mind so he's learned to do it behind mockery and sarcasm over the centuries. He knows how rough you have it, unfortunately he's seen it first hand.

“Oh I'm sure you have it so much worse,” you say in a tone you hope matches his, “It's not like you don't spend your mornings walking your hounds around the forest and nights only the Mother knows where.”

You see something spark in his eyes, something akin to satisfaction, before he's tightening his grip on your waist and bringing you in closer. He looks around the room first, as if daring anyone to keep staring while he talks to his soon-to-be wife. Of course, no one does.

“Spying on me, little doll?” Your breath hitches and you know he hears it because you can feel his smirk grow. You'll blame the blush spreading through your flesh and chills moving through your body on your performance later, but in this moment you know they're very much real.

Eris has an effect on you. The male is undeniably attractive, you doubt you'd find any fae or human who wouldn't think so, and that wicked tongue of his only makes him more enticing. You like to blame your body's response to him on your lack of experience, but you're not sure it would be possible to not feel at least tempted to indulge in Eris even if you'd already made your way through the entire court.

“I wasn't trying to,” you swallow, fighting to keep your tone steady and not show any more reaction to his proximity. This much was true, you could barely sneak around to find time for yourself, let alone spend it looking for your fiancé. “Maybe you're just easy to find,” you tilt your head slightly, “This doesn't bode well with all your plans.” You swear you can feel a small chuckle coming from him but he's hiding it before you can be sure.

The song rises in tempo and Eris takes this opportunity to spin you around again, effectively putting some space between you. It's hard to keep a pleasant smile on your face while spewing venom filled words at your husband to be, but letting anyone overhear you or find any little crack in your performance would only bring trouble, and this is routine for you after all. You'd never admit it but with his hand in yours the stares are easier to digest, even if your arrangement was involuntary, at least you weren't alone for once in your life.

The song finally comes to an end. You rush to bow to him slightly so you can go back to an emptier corner of the ballroom and escape everyone's prying eyes, but Eris takes your hand before you can. He takes it up to his mouth, kissing it softly before whispering in your ear.

“Meet me at the cabin later.” It must be an important subject for Eris to even bring this up at a place like this. Though you're sure it had simply looked like he left you with some teasing parting words.

The rest of the ceremony is uneventful. You go back to the same place you had spent most of the night in and ignored the whispers around you. Aside from your mother coming by to ask you what Eris told you - to which you promptly lied and feigned bashfulness - you sat in the corner quietly wondering what your fiancé wants to talk to you about.

As soon as you walk into your room you let out a loud sigh. You wish you could just fall into your bed and not emerge until the sun is high in the sky tomorrow. Unfortunately, you still need to let the maids bathe you and get you ready for bed. Your mother insists on having them help you, especially on days like these, as if you could drown in the bath.

It takes what feels like hours to go through the whole routine, getting you out of the too small corseted dress was a feat in itself. If you had been alone you probably would have already burned it off your body in frustration, it's not like you'll be allowed to wear it again either way.

You lie down in bed as soon as the maids leave, keeping an ear out for everyone else in the house. Trying to leave before everyone was asleep was too risky. They had no reason to think you would leave in the middle of the night like this, but you couldn't help being a little paranoid. There's too much to lose.

When you think it's safe, you climb out of bed quietly. You look down at your nightgown and contemplate changing into something warmer. It barely reaches your knees so you'll definitely be cold, but you were already late and it would be easier to just get back into bed like this. You decide to put on some boots and throw a green hood over it.

Taking one more look around, you winnow to your meeting point. No one knows you have this ability, which is how you can sneak out as often as you do. You've kept this secret from everyone but Eris, though you didn't intentionally reveal it to him either.

He'd shown you this place when you first made your bargain years ago. You're not entirely sure what the cabin was used for before but it was probably only meant for storage. Eris must have found it deep into the forest and decided it was a good place to hide, you can only imagine the things he's gotten up to inside these walls.

As soon as you materialize into the cabin you see Eris standing by the fire. He's changed out of his suit but it doesn't look like he was getting ready for bed with the black ensemble he has on. Yours is probably not the only secret meeting he's having tonight.

“You're late.” Incredible how Eris always strives to be the nicest person in the room.

“I had to wait for everyone to think I was asleep so they didn't see me,” you start as you push the hood off your head, “Excuse me if I took a bit longer making sure no one followed me.”

“You're perfectly excused, doll.” The flames in the hearth climb higher, fueled by your anger that only escalates when you see the familiar smirk on his irritatingly beautiful face. “Oh my. How have you managed to hide your powers with such a fiery disposition?”

You ask yourself that same question often. Fortunately, he might be the only person who can make your temper boil so easily. You don't even want to think what would happen if your father found out how powerful you could be.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure, you take a deep breath and walk closer to the fire. The cloak is doing little to ward off the cold of the autumn forest, you hope he at least ends this conversation quickly.

“I was hoping you'd keep the dress on,” he takes on a seductive tone and looks down at your bare legs before locking eyes with you once more, “but this might be even better.” You will never understand why he insists on playing this game with you, you're more than aware that he has no such feelings for you. You also know you probably look ridiculous.

“Well I was hoping you'd get eaten by a wolf on the way here,” you give him a sweet smile, “but we don't always get what we want.”

The disinterested hum he sends your way in lieu of a response is somehow more infuriating than anything he might have come up with. The fact that Eris managed to live over 500 years with this personality might as well be one of the biggest mysteries in Prythian.

“What did you want to tell me anyway?” You just wanted to get this over with and go back to your warm bed so you can finally sleep the day off.

“Our marriage will take place within the year.” The world fell silent at his words. You always knew this day could come, that Eris could only delay it for so long, but hearing the words makes your heart sink.

“What?”

“Beron hasn't talked to me about it yet but he told my mother to start preparations for my wedding.” He runs a hand through his hair, you hadn't noticed how messy it already was. He's as worried about this as you are. “She warned me he'll probably announce it soon. I thought it would be tonight.”

You don't know how to process this. It may have been foolish but you had hoped this would never actually happen since Eris was on your side. You sit on the bench and Eris follows suit. Your masks drop in the small comfort of the secluded cabin, there's no use pretending now.

“What about your other plan?” This was your last chance: if Eris was High Lord he could simply call the engagement off and your father wouldn't be able to argue against it.

“I will need more time.” You close your eyes tightly, wishing you could just disappear. “I'm trying to move things along as fast as I can but I won't be able to finish all the preparations before the end of the year. There's too much at risk.”

“We will be married by then.” It's over.

“It can't be helped.” You'd give anything to see Autumn rid of Beron, if the price has to be your freedom so be it. Still, you can't help feeling defeated, it feels like you're mourning a life you never even had the chance of living.

You don't know if Eris had any hope of finding love like you did but, even if he didn't, you know he didn't want to be chained to someone he didn't choose either. He had witnessed how awful his parent's marriage had been just like you did yours so he must have at least hoped for a companion of his choice or to stay alone.

“I've thought of sending you away,” you look up at him, surprised at his words, “but my father would order me to find you, and I'd have to obey him. Failing Beron's orders brings too big of a punishment for me and my family.” His gaze moves from the fire in front of you to meet yours, “I would hate to ever hurt you, doll, so I need to keep you here.”

If there was one thing you could respect about Eris was his commitment to keeping his family safe. You're not actually sure if any of them are aware of the sacrifices he makes for them - from what you've heard the family dynamic is interesting at best - but it tugs at your heart strings. You used to pray for someone to care for you that much, to protect you like this.

You wonder how things ended up like this. Maybe thinking you could have avoided this future when it was written for you when you were born had been simply a foolish delusion. At least Eris was one of the best options, as much as you hate to admit it. You'd at least not have to worry about him being violent with you or treating you like you were less than an animal.

“Well,” you sit up straighter and stare right into the fire, feigning nonchalance even through your shaky voice and teary eyes, “I guess we'll have to get used to each other.” No use crying over spilt milk. It was better to accept this reality sooner than later. “Being Lady of Autumn might still bring me some perks in the end.”

You might have to give up on your chance at love and to build a life for yourself, but you can at least help Eris change this court for the better. When you turn your head and meet his amber eyes you find an intensity you weren't expecting, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was proud of you.

“Already thinking of ways to rule my court?” The smirk on his face wasn't quite as cutting as usual. “How ambitious of you, doll.”

“Our court,” you clarify, “What's yours is mine, husband.”

He studies your face for a few moments with a glint in his eyes, noticeable even through the reflection of the fire. You're not sure what he's searching for. Any signs you'd back down or try to run away despite his warnings? Whatever it was, it seems he reached a conclusion.

“We'll rid this court of Beron,” he extends his hand towards you, holding his palm up, “and give it a new worthy ruler.” Another bargain. He wants to add to your former agreement, that one would disappear the moment you got married anyway.

“We'll make this a better place to live, a court we can be proud of.” You have nothing else to lose. You take his hand and feel the magic instantly. You're now bound to Eris in an oath you intend to fulfill at the cost of your life. You'd make him High Lord or you'd die trying.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris fic #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #divider by saradika #fire on fire universe

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humansofnewyork · 9 months

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“The question everybody wants to know is: why don’t the aliens contact us if they're really here? The answer is simple: because it would melt your psyche to contact beings from another dimension. Whether it's ghosts or spirits or deceased relatives or past lives or future lives or aliens or Bigfoot or fairies, all of it will melt your psyche. Because you’ve been programmed by The Empire to believe those things don’t exist. Unless of course you’re an indigenous person raised on traditional shamanic ceremonies. I learned all this by talking to other humans on other earths in other universes, so I'm trying to not blow your mind right now. When you’re talking about other dimensions you have to use a lot of metaphors, so just imagine earth as North Korea. You’ve probably seen enough documentaries to know what's going on in North Korea. The North Korean people are completely mind locked and brainwashed, and they have a completely inaccurate understanding of the rest of the planet. Well, that’s the same thing that’s happening here. Earth is the North Korea of the multiverse.”

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haechwrites · 1 year

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sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH

prince!lee donghyuck x baker fem!OC (no name!)

synopsis: prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.

wc: ~17.1k

warnings: pet names used only so i don't have to namedrop lol. no other warnings tho!

A/N: this is my second longest fic i've actually finished hehe i'm really happy with this one and now i wish i had a prince haechan lol

-- some things to note first:

THIS FIC IS WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON. if you see ♔, that means it's in haechan's pov written in third person!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As a child, life is all about the simple pleasures. It didn’t matter that I’d come home to a dark house carrying the faint snores of my mother. I was still reeling from the sweet taste of mangoes on my tongue, the slight dusting of sugar in my hair, and the lingering soreness from laughing in my cheeks. I’d quickly wash up, give my mom a quick peck on the forehead, and tuck myself in bed. Before I know it, the sun greets me again and I meet my grandma outside as she leads me to the palace. This was my routine and for my young brain, there was nothing ever wrong with it.

My grandma is the head baker at the palace. Since the separation of my parents, I have spent my days with my grandma at work. It was all I knew and I was content with it. Every sunrise, I’d have 30 minutes before I had to meet her outside. Together, we’d walk to the palace’s servant entrance and my grandma would give our favorite guard, Doyun, a warm smile and a promise to slip an extra pastry in his meal for letting me tag along. I’d walk past him with a finger to my lips asking him to be sworn to secrecy. He’d always return it with a wink and a small laugh. It was our little promise, though I’m sure no one would actually mind an extra guest on the grounds – especially a mere 7-year-old.

Once inside the kitchen, I strap on the apron that the palace’s tailor secretly made specifically for me. Grandma told me that the busiest times in the kitchen were the mornings, so I always sit in the corner to let her start the day. I occupy myself for at least an hour before my friend comes to play with me. His entrance is always the same: a secret knock on the side door and a gleaming smile when I open it for him.

Today he’s dressed up in a super fancy garment, almost like a uniform. I had never seen him in anything other than his casual button-up and pants, typically covered by an extra adult-sized apron we’d find laying around.

“Donghyuck! What are you wearing?”

“Princess!,” He’d squeal, pulling me into a tight hug. “It’s my special outfit.”

“Is it your birthday?” My nose scrunches in confusion, looking him up and down. Even if it was his birthday, I can’t imagine his servant parents could afford such expensive fabric.

Donghyuck laughs before yanking a spare apron off its hook and pulling it over his head.

“Nooo. I have something important to do today. That’s why I’m wearing this,” He explains, looking a little nervous.

“Oh wow. You look like the King. Or like a prince,” I say jokingly, but Donghyuck freezes. His eyes are wide like the time he accidentally ate the last mango tart I was saving.

Then he breaks out into an awkward laugh and smiles wide at me, “I am a prince… because you’re my princess.” He says with utmost confidence, before grabbing my hands. We’re standing the way I position my two play dolls during a pretend wedding ceremony.

I quickly turn the shade of freshly baked cherry pies and I tear my hands out of his hold.

“Donghyuck-ah! How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” I huff, crossing my arms.

He snickers, “Hmmm… maybe one hundred more times.”

“One hundred more times?!”

“Yes, if you can even count that high,” he smirks, instantly easing the tension from earlier. He plops down onto my stool and looks up at me. “So what are we playing today? Or should we read? Or does Baker Grandma need help?”

I aimlessly kick the leg of the stool, thinking about what we could do today as I can see him anxiously bounce around in his seat. He looks like he’s running on limited time today. Sometimes Donghyuck disappears on me in the middle of our hangouts or doesn’t show up at all. I just assume his parents need help with their tasks just like how Grandma often calls me to help her bake. He’s never told me where in the palace they work despite the years we’ve been hanging out.

“What if we help your parents today?” The minute the question leaves my lips, I hear a snort from the kitchen staff and Donghyuck goes into a coughing fit as if the flour seeped into his lungs.

I begin to feel myself turn red again and wondering what was so wrong till I feel a familiar warm hand on my shoulder.

“Ah Donghyuck, you’re here today?” My grandma looks at his attire with a suspicious gaze. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Her hands are on her hips and it feels similar to the times she’s caught me using the oven on my own.

Donghyuck starts shyly giggling while fiddling with the oversized apron my grandma is reaching to remove. I stand there in confusion as he looks like a puppy that was told he wasn’t allowed to play or have a treat. I want to help him but the look on grandma’s face is too scary to fight.

She’s slowly ushering him out the door and I’m holding his apron in my hands, watching him pout.

“Bye Hyuck,” I mutter, sad that our day was cut short before it even began. This was the quickest that one has ended.

“Byeee Princess,” He says with as much despair in his voice. He always has to be a little more dramatic than me. I giggle and wave him goodbye, spirits lifted by his antics. I see a smile grow on his face at the sound of my laugh before my grandma closes the door.

My loneliness returns as I stare at the wooden panels of the side door.

“Did he have to go?” I ask, slumping back onto the stool he was just on.

My grandma turns to me with a quizzical look. I can’t tell if she’s angry, sad, or disappointed and then she’s crouched down in front of me. Her flour-coated hands are resting on my lap.

“Donghyuck got called by his parents. They’re very important people,” She starts slowly. Grandma has never talked about Donghyuck’s family or personal life before. It was never brought up in the past because I assumed he was just like me. Now that we’re finally beginning to talk about it, the hesitant look on her face makes me not want to know anymore.

“Guards?,” I ask. To me, Doyun is the most important worker in the castle as he freely lets me in and out. Maybe guards earn enough to adorn such fancy clothes I saw Donghyuck wear.

“No, honey,” She glances back at her staff, and I notice they’ve been watching. They give me a reassuring smile, but there’s uneasiness quivering on their lips.

“Donghyuck… Donghyuck is the Prince.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

They found him. Donghyuck’s personal guards find him where they usually do when he escapes his tasks, and that would be at the palace kitchen. This time, they find him outside the door, rather than inside scarfing down mango tarts.

Without any hesitation and with no room for him to trick them and run, they grab the tiny prince and bring him to the meeting he was meant to attend with the King. It was meant to be the first glimpse of his life as a future ruler, attending meetings with fellow diplomats and other boring princely things. Donghyuck does not understand why he can’t spend his day playing like a regular 7-year-old with his pretty friend from the kitchen.

Despite having complained and whined his way out of most duties, Donghyuck had reached the level of maturity to know that this one he couldn’t fight. I mean, the tailor adjusted his royal attire just for this one-hour meeting. After having come to terms with sitting in boredom for an hour, Donghyuck did not expect to be dragged into more as he was about to skip his way over to the kitchen once the diplomats left.

“And where are you off to now, Donghyuck?”

He freezes in his tracks and a shiver ripples down his spine at the sound of her voice. He’s been caught again.

He spins around, plastering the biggest smile possible on his face. “Nowhere, Mother. Just strolling around until my tutoring session.” He hopes she doesn’t recognize this path to the kitchen.

“And is your tutoring session located in the kitchen today?” She asks, words dripping with a patronizing attitude. Nothing Donghyuck isn’t used to.

“Oh! I wanted to see if I could get a quick snack before. My brain needs food, right?” He hides his crossed fingers behind his back, praying she doesn’t call his bluff.

“And you’re not just going there to see that girl, are you?” She takes a step closer and Donghyuck is scared she can see the drip of sweat beginning to trickle down his forehead. How did she know about Princess? He wonders if his guard ratted him out… even after Donghyuck gave him half of his tart. The betrayal, he scoffs.

“There’s no girl, Mother.” Donghyuck decides it's best to deny it and stare straight at his feet.

“You are correct, there will never be a girl. Instead, there will be a future queen. A princess for now and you need to begin meeting our potential suitresses,” The queen firmly states, grabbing his shoulders to steer him towards the library. Before he could stop himself, his chest bubbles with heat, and his brain is fogged with confusion. He can’t imagine anyone by his side but her.

“Why can’t she be my princess?”

The words spill out from his royal lips before he could catch them. There’s no missing the instant look of rage and disgust on the Queen’s face when her son’s true desires are revealed. Desires of the heart, but a complete disgrace to his duties as the Prince. Her eyes grow colder and her skin pales till her blush is the brightest hue on her cheeks.

Donghyuck feels his throat go dry and the crossed fingers behind his back unlock. No luck can help him now.

“No more kitchen visits, Prince Donghyuck.”

The queen’s words are final. His shoulders slump lower and his feet are heavy as he drags them across the cobblestone trailing toward the library. It feels like there was a wall that slammed into the ground behind him, forbidding him from seeing her again.

“Yes, ma’am. No more.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

^ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER ^

The only memory of my childhood that lingered was the heat of the oven. Like I did every day at the age of 7, I continued to bake to keep that fire alive. There were days where the warmth was cooler than normal and my urge to bake waivered. Days like when my grandma stopped showing up outside my house every day a half hour after sunrise. Days like when my mother decided I was too much to raise when I stopped spending my time at the palace. And days like the one when I moved out of the city to live with my dad.

However, there were also days where the flame was ablaze. Days like when I got my own personal baking set. Days like when I got accepted into a baking school. And days like today, where I return to the city that pushed me out fifteen years ago to open a bakery. Despite the dismal circumstances of the day I left, I always felt the urge to return. It never felt right that I moved in the first place. Confusion still envelops my mind when I think about how my grandma stopped taking me to the palace for unsaid reasons and how my mother was incapable of taking care of me due to it. There had to be something more going on.

Outside of this mystery of my childhood, my main goal was to return with my own bakery specializing in my soon-to-be infamous mango tarts. I had visited the city for the first time since my move before to scope out bakery locations. But today was the day that I officially move in, to both my home and bakery, and kickstart my business. My first task was to put up a sign displaying the bakery’s name.

“Oh my goodness… so it is true!”

Warmth blooms in my chest; I would recognize that voice anywhere. I flip around and I’m greeted with her same sugary sweet smile. My grandma looks just as she did before but her hair is dusted white like the flour she worked with. But she still smelled like spiced apple pie, my eyes watered in disbelief.

“Grandma!” I ran into her open arms and I could feel her chuckle.

“Oh honey, it’s been much too long. Look at you now… a beautiful woman before my eyes,” She’s smiling widely and I can see her eyes take in my features. Fifteen years worth of change and growth.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been in contact much. I could barely find the time to tell you I was coming back.”

“It’s alright. All that matters is you’re here,” Grandma rubs my arms reassuringly. “And are you here alone? Or have you moved back with a lover?” The childish gleam on her face makes me giggle and I quickly correct her that I’m single and focusing on my baking.

“Ah, I see. In that case, you must have more time than I anticipated. You must come with me to work one of these days. Just like old times. Consider it research for your bakery.” The way she sways with excitement makes it hard for me to turn it down, and I can’t deny the flutter in my heart at the idea of stepping foot onto the palace grounds again. It was where it all started for me. I agreed with a smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After a week of prepping the bakery, I decided to visit my grandma. To be completely honest, outside of the work I had to do, my nerves did play a role in keeping me from going earlier. But now that I’ve decided I’ve run out of excuses, I’m walking to the servant entrance of the palace a little before noon to give my grandmother the morning to solely focus on work. It makes me smile knowing I still remember the schedule of the palace kitchen.

The streets surrounding the castle are quiet at this hour. I can still remember the hustle and commotion of the staff in the early morning, lining up to get inside to start their days. It was never daunting to be a young girl surrounded by a diverse array of people. It was thrilling and almost comforting and it was much better than staying home alone.

When I reach the gates, I feel like I’ve traveled back in time because blocking my path is a young guard who looks eerily like Doyun, the guard I knew from before.

“How can I help you, miss?”

“Hi.” I’m inspecting his face. He has the same colored hair, but it’s parted differently. He has the same warm light brown eyes and his face is a little softer than Doyun’s. My mind can’t help but ask, “I’m sorry if this is a strange question but do you know Guard Doyun?”

His stiff demeanor drops like a curtain and the young guard’s eyes light up, “I’m his son, Yunseo! How do you know my father?” Suddenly I don’t see a guard in uniform, but instead a bright, inviting individual in his place.

“No wonder! I’m the granddaughter of the head baker. I used to greet your father every morning when I was a child.”

“Oh yes! Yes, she told me you were coming. You can go right along in, just make sure she knows to sneak me an extra sweet treat.” He opens the gates for me.

“Ah like father, like son,” I giggle, slightly bowing to him as I enter.

“Do you remember how to get to the kitchen?”

I stare at the familiar worn cobblestone paths and nod, “I think so.”

The walk to the kitchen is shorter than I remember but the smell wafting from the windows is all the same. I reach the side door and I’m about to knock when I notice it’s creaked slightly open. I hear a voice above all the kitchen noise.

“Gran, please sneak something in my food today so I can get sick and stay in bed for the whole week. I do not want to court these women.” I peek my head in further to take a look at the man speaking. I let out a soft gasp when my eyes land on him.

Outside of his stunning beauty, he looks familiar. His tufts of chestnut brown hair are slightly waved as they curl around the nape of his neck. He often shakes his head to get the bangs out of his face, exposing his tan skin. If I look close enough, he has distinguishable moles on the plush curves of his cheeks. His rosy lips are wrapped around a piece of pastry and even when he’s talking with his mouth full, he’s still attractive. My eyes instantly widen when I notice his outfit: the royal attire.

A squeal escapes my mouth and before I could hide, the door is swung open by my grandma.

“You’re here!”

At the announcement of my arrival, the young man is dusting the crumbs off his hands, and looks like he’s about to make a quick escape.

“Hi Grandma,” I give her a hug, not minding the flour sticking to my sweater. “I was just about to knock.” I let out a small laugh to hide the fact that I was definitely eavesdropping not moments ago.

“Grandma?” I hear the man say behind her. He decided to stay after realizing it wasn’t one of his guards coming to get him, but instead a pretty woman. An oddly, familiar, pretty woman.

My grandma bites her lip to keep from smiling any bigger and she grabs my arm to present me to the man.

“Oh my. I forgot you guys know each other! It’s Donghyuck, do you remember, honey? You used to play with him every day as I worked.” The glint in her eyes is something more than just happy nostalgia and I give her a look.

“Pri-... Princess?” When the old nickname leaves his lips, I gasp and feel my cheeks bloom pink. The layers of the handsome man in front of me started to peel and I could see the little boy I spent my early life with. Most of my warmest days were spent with him. But I’m also brought back to one of the colder days of my childhood. The day I found out my childhood best friend was the Prince.

At first, I didn’t understand why my grandma was so fearful of telling me who he really was. I was ecstatic to hear that Donghyuck was royalty. I was fascinated and curious to see what his life was like and how it compared to being the granddaughter of a palace worker. I soon learned that what I wanted to discover was not so glamorous. Because apparently, his life excluded me. I didn’t piece that together until a few years after my move. Why else did Donghyuck stop showing up and why else was I forbade from going to the palace with my grandma? When I came to the realization, I began to resent him and eventually, completely forgot about him.

“Prince Donghyuck,” I bowed, trying not to show any expression. He had his arm slightly raised like he was about to reach for me but his body stiffened at my curtness. My grandma even looks at me with confusion. “It’s… It’s nice to see you again.”

“Oh, there’s no need to be so polite. You guys were friends!” My grandma squeezes my arms, urging me to get closer. I stay in my place.

“He’s the Prince, Grandma,” I whisper through my teeth and I can tell he hears me by the dejected look on his face. I can’t get myself to look him in the eyes.

“It’s quite alright. I actually have to get going. Prin-... Sorry, It was lovely to see you,” The Prince ducks his head and leaves the way I came in. He looks back at my figure once more, thoughts churning, before he disappears.

My feet remain still and I’m staring at the place he stood. Staring at the pastry he bit into. He’s real and he’s back. And the door he walked through was the same one he used to leave me 15 years ago. The alarms rang in my brain and I quickly shook my head, grabbing a bowl and mixing whatever contents are in it. The faster I stirred, the more I begged my mind to stop thinking about Donghyuck.

“You’re overwhipping the cream.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

��

On every page he turned to, the words blurred and all Donghyuck could see was her. She was more beautiful than he remembered. She’s much taller now, and he naturally smiles remembering when she used to argue that he was only taller than her by a centimeter. Her hair was also longer and not bound in her classic two braids. Though he didn’t get to see her smile, he was sure that it’s brighter than before. After all, everything about her seemed to have grown more beautiful than before. Donghyuck wonders if he should be calling her “Queen” now with how wonderfully she’s aged.

A delicate tap on his shoulder forces Donghyuck out of his lovestruck haze. “Prince Donghyuck, are you enjoying your book?”

He remembers that he’s in the library with one of his potential suitresses. He turns to her and almost wants to laugh. For the years that his childhood friend has been gone, it was the memory of her that invaded his mind whenever he was forced to go on these dates. But now that Donghyuck has seen her again in the flesh, he realizes how doomed he is and how these other princesses definitely don’t stand a chance.

During the fifteen years apart, Donghyuck’s gloom exacerbated the Queen’s determination to find him a future queen. Out of all his regular royal responsibilities, his courtships took the most time. He excels in all areas of his duties, but the one he can’t manage to succeed in is getting a wife. From playdates to formal dates, Donghyuck aged and remained single. And both he and the head baker knew why.

Despite the Queen’s warnings to never enter the kitchen, Donghyuck found himself there every week whether it was to steal extra mango tarts or ask about the baker’s granddaughter. It was usually after failed dates when he’d trudge into the kitchen, completely drained of energy, and beg the baker to talk to him about his first love. Questions about where she is, how she’s doing, and whether she thinks of him spill from his mouth, and the baker would entertain him every time. Even if he only knew and could only remember the child version of her, Donghyuck still managed to compare her to every suitress he met. None of them stood a chance against his princess. And though with time he could recognize how silly this infatuation had gotten, he grew fatigued of courtship and this was the easiest way to go about it. The grandmother was wary of this long overrun connection as well, but at the same time commended him for his commitment to her granddaughter. She also didn’t have the heart to tell him to move on.

And now Donghyuck’s here, on another date and he actually has an image, a real person, to be thinking of.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think this is going to work out.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“So you are hiding from me?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” I drop the bowl of frosting at my feet and scramble to pick it up. A pair of far too expensive shoes enter my vision. I shoot up and my heart races, knowing exactly who it is.

“My prince,” I bow, meeting the ground once more. I stand upright and give him a passing smile.

“I like hearing you say that,” The Prince smirks. He swiftly scoops a finger of frosting before popping it in his mouth.

“Formalities,” I respond and I move the bowl out of his reach.

He chuckles and he starts to fiddle with an apron left on the counter.

“So you’ve been visiting at nighttime. Are you actually avoiding me?” He looks at me like he’s challenging me to say no.

Yes. “No, I just prefer the kitchen at night.” I clutch the frosting bowl tighter and focus my attention on what’s salvageable.

“You mean my kitchen… which you’ve been sneaking into with the help of my guard.” I can feel that he’s moved closer and I wince.

“Yes… I’m sorry. My grandma said it’d be okay and my kitchen at the bakery isn’t finished being built. If you’d like me to stop coming, I can.” I start to untie my apron and his hand catches my wrist.

“No,” He blurts out. “There’s no need. Feel free to use the kitchen.” The Prince raises his hands in the air as if to give me permission. I politely nod and go back to fixing my frosting, ignoring the tingling I feel on my wrist.

He doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he puts on the apron from the counter and leans in to watch.

“Um, what are you doing?” The Prince is tapping the table and humming as he stares at me.

“Hanging out,” He says matter-of-factly.

“I see,” And that’s all that I can say because who am I to kick the Prince out of his own kitchen? So I just mix and continue doing my thing.

“Just like the old days. You do remember, right?” I make the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. He’s looking at me like his question meant more than just a test of my memory.

“Vaguely… It was a long, long time ago.” A time I don’t wish to relive.

There’s a short pause before The Prince replies.

“Well, I remember. I think I’ll always remember. You were my best friend… And those were probably the best days of my life.” He doesn’t look at me when he says this. In fact, he looks nervous to be admitting it in the first place.

All I can do is nod, not knowing what to say to his confession. Especially when the feeling I get when I look back on those times is not as positive.

“Anyway… I’m planning on recreating those times.” Without thinking, I meet his eyes and he’s smiling hopefully. “So don’t try to hide from me next time. I’ll be here whenever you are. Think of it as your payment for using the kitchen.”

The uneasiness and warmth in my stomach are hard to decipher. The thought of spending more time with him is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I try to ease my nerves by mixing even harder and he notices before laughing.

With my unspoken agreement, we spend the rest of the night in silence, just in each other’s presence. Every now and then he steals a bite of my makings and tries to lighten the air with a poorly made joke. And I don’t hold my laughter back.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“And then, once the frosting is on, you can add the strawberries.” I demonstrate by putting the nicely sliced strawberries on in a thin layer.

“When are you going to teach me how to make the mango tart?” The Prince pouts and bites the strawberries instead of putting them on the cake. I scowl and move the bowl away from him.

“When are you going to stop eating my ingredients?”

He smirks and taps the counter, “When are you going to stop using my kitchen?” He tilts his head to the side to goad me.

I roll my lips into my mouth and stuff another strawberry in his face when he laughs.

“Eat up,” I say sickeningly sweet.

Completely out of my control, my hangouts with Prince Donghyuck have returned. However, this time, I know he’s the prince and instead of every day in the morning, it’s 2 to 3 times a week at night. My excuse is that my kitchen in the bakery isn’t done being built, but to be completely honest, I could have it done by the end of the week. Maybe it’s because I enjoy my time with the Prince or maybe it’s because I actually do want the extra amenities I asked to be installed last minute… who knows? The end conclusion is that I find myself in the palace’s kitchen more often than I intended, and I find myself enjoying the Prince’s company more than I intended.

“Okay, your highness. Do you think you can stack these layers evenly?”

He gives me a playful salute, mouth full of cream, as he hops off the kitchen counter. He stands by my side and takes the cake from my hands.

“You know… as much as I like hearing you call me ‘your highness,’ why don’t you ever call me by my name anymore?”

“Because now I know you’re the Prince.” And I don’t know how it feels to have your name roll off my tongue as it did before, I think to myself.

The Prince lets out a low whistle. “Do you see me differently?” He trains his eyes to the level of the cake to get it precisely right. I watch him from above.

“It’s been fifteen years… so yes, I do see you differently.” I move to mix more frosting to coat the cake with.

“Okay,” He nods, thinking about my response. “So me being the Prince isn’t part of it?” He glances at me quickly with what I can assume is worry before he goes to add another layer of cake.

“Mmm… It is. Not a big part, but definitely a part. I think it’s mainly because you’ve grown up, We’ve both grown up. Maybe me more than you,” I tease. He sticks his tongue out at me and I make a face back. “Example number one.”

He finishes putting on the last layer and stands up straight to admire his work.

“What makes me different than before?” He takes the frosting bowl from my hands and begins icing the cake like I’ve taught him a couple of days ago. I take this as a break and I lift myself up to sit on the counter, dangling my feet.

“You’re taller than me, for one,” he gasps in fake shock and I hit him on the shoulder.

“You’re dressed nicer.”

“That’s not a compliment for me, that’s a compliment for my stylist,” He corrects me.

“True, okay. You’re smarter than before, I can see you’re not skipping your tutoring sessions. And… you’re not as cute.”

At that, he perks up, frosting is long forgotten. “What do you mean I’m not as cute?” And with the face he’s making, I almost take back my words.

“Well, your highness, you were a boy before. Of course, you’re not cute now. You’re a man.” I roll my eyes as if that were the most obvious thing.

“If I’m not cute, then what am I?” He squints at me and I can tell I’ve fallen into a trap.

“You’re… You’re handsome. Now,” I mutter out. I quickly clear my throat and point to a bald spot on the cake. “Hey, you missed a spot.”

Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling. “You think I’m handsome.”

“Alright,” I drag out the word. “You’re the Prince. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome so you can woo and marry a pretty princess?”

“Not exactly. Being ridiculously handsome isn’t a royal requirement.”

I let out a scoff, “When did I say ‘ridiculously handsome’?”

“You didn’t have to, I see it on your face.” He taps my cheek and I suddenly notice how close our faces have gotten. Before I know it, my face is blooming pink again and I can feel the warmth shoot from my head to the rest of my body. I launch myself back and adjust my apron. And he stares at me like he’s won.

“Okay, your turn. What’s different about me?” I look around the kitchen to get my heart to settle down. What is happening?

The Prince doesn’t hesitate. “Well, you’re just as beautiful as you were before. Maybe even more.”

I gasp at his words and look him in the eyes. There’s no hint of his typical teasing attitude; he looks completely genuine. My mind goes blank and my ability to respond is rendered useless. He seems to notice that so he brushes off his comment quickly, thinking he’s overstepped.

“Anyways, since we’ve discovered that the only thing that makes me different from before is that I’m exceptionally more handsome-”

“Didn’t say that.”

“-Then why don’t you just call me ‘Donghyuck.’ Like you did before.”

Maybe it’s because he called me beautiful. Maybe it’s because I like the idea of exclusively calling him ‘Donghyuck.’ Or maybe I’m excited to eat the cake we just made, but my heart is fluttering quicker than it ever has.

“Okay. Donghyuck.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“FIRE! DONGHYUCK! FIRE, FIRE!”

“OH SHIT!”

Watching the medium sized fire bursting from the top of the pot, I run to the fire extinguisher. I’m scrambling to grab it, swift to squeeze the white dust all over the burning stove, despite the dough covering my hands. I hear Donghyuck’s screams in the back and he’s grabbing my shoulders to hide. Once I see the last flame get coated, I drop the extinguisher on the ground, exhausted.

I feel his hands digging into my shoulder blades and I grab him by the jacket, turning him to face me. Knowing how to cover his ass, he smiles in shame, rubbing my arm.

“I swear I was watching the stove,” He whips out his baby voice and try my best not to smack the side of his head. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince, I repeat to myself.

“Your looks distracted me.” I slap him anyways.

He groans in pain, even though I could’ve slapped harder and I cross my arms to look as threatening as possible.

“You burnt the caramel,” I whine, staring at the black tar in my brand new pot. “And my pot!”

He immediately attacks me with a hug, shaking me around, mumbling apologies. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise! I’ll buy you three! Four? Seven!”

“Make it eight,” I huff, tearing his arms off me, only to weirdly miss them.

He gasps, hands against his head in shock. “You definitely dressed prettier today just so I could set your pot on fire and buy you twenty more… You’re evil,” He looks at me like I’ve masterminded the biggest robbery of the century.

I narrow my eyes at him, lifting my hand to smack him again. “And you’re on timeout. No more baking today.” I start putting away the dishes I had ready.

“Hey! Who’s older here?” Donghyuck begins helping me sort the supplies into the pantry.

“I’m pretty sure I am,” I say, trying to remember if we told each other our birthdays back then.

“When were you born?”

“May.”

“Shit,” He mutters. He tosses the burnt pot into the trashcan, wincing at the char. “Okay, let’s keep the ball rolling. What’s your favorite color?”

I laugh, “Really? Also should I save this dough for tomorrow when we try again?” I hold it up to show him and inspects it.

“Yeah, why not? Just wear a trashbag or something tomorrow.” I kick him in the foot and he chuckles. “But yes, really. What’s your favorite color? I like red.”

“Purple,” I play along while saran wrapping the dough. “Favorite food?”

“Kimchi jjigae,” he spits out, with no hesitation. I nod along, remembering all the times he’s requested it as a midnight snack while we bake. “What do you like to do besides baking?”

“I like to go on walks. When I moved out of the city and with my dad, we lived near the beach. It was nice to just walk on the shore only five minutes away from me. I miss it sometimes. I should probably visit soon.” I tap the bowl mindlessly, trying to figure out my schedule.

“You should take me,” Donghyuck says. He’s right next to me now. “I always wondered where you went after I stopped seeing you. I assumed you were still in the city, until your grandma told me you moved-moved.”

“Ohh, no, yeah. I moved. It was hard leaving everything I knew, but at the same time, I learned so much when I was there with my dad. Come with me next time, and we can hangout on the beach. Nothing should be too flammable there.” I tease, bumping his hip with mine. He laughs with me, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks almost guilty.

“You know, when I found out you were the Prince, I wrote down a list of questions. I was so excited to see what your life is like.”

This grabbed his attention and my heart eased seeing his eyes light up a little more. The kitchen was relatively clean now, so I decided to prop myself up on the counter. Donghyuck always gets mad at the sudden height difference, but I can tell he loves it when he naturally wedges himself between my thighs like he does right now.

“Yeah? Do you remember any?” His hands were pinned on either side of my hips, forearms pressed against my outer thighs. It’s comfortable. I’m not sure when we got so comfortable. “This is kind of like ‘Princess and The Pauper.’”

I snort trying to remember my list. “I think I wanted to know how many crowns you had.”

“Classic question. I’m pretty sure I have three. My head’s kinda small, so it actually takes awhile for them to make it.”

I hum, investigating his head. “I can tell.”

“Mean.” He lightly pinches my thigh and I stop staring at his skull.

“I also wanted to know if you had any royal pets.”

“A cute, small, white dog. Yep.” He nods, like he’s impressed with himself for having such a basic dog and I have to laugh.

“Any cool cars?”

“Tons,” He brags. “Okay, what does ‘Adult You’ want to know?”

There’s always been a question I wanted to ask him since I started hanging out with him again. It nagged in the back of my mind as I watched him, always happy, always cheering everyone on. Despite his bright facial expressions and body language, I could tell it was tiring, it must be. I never imagined the royal life to be hard, or as hard as my own, until I met him again.

I look at his face, checking for any signs that I shouldn’t be asking him. But he looks at me with such softness and openness, that I don’t hesitate to ask.

“Are you happy? Like… do you like being the Prince?”

His eyes widened at my question and he looks down at my lap to think. He takes longer than I expect, and I assume no one has ever bothered to ask. His silence is telling.

“Hey…,” I reach for his face to lift his chin up. “It’s okay to say you’re not. You don’t have to be all the time.”

He flinches like this was a concept he couldn’t accept for himself. I grab his face a little tighter so he really hears me.

“As long as you’re at least looking for your happiness, that’s all that matters,” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “You deserve all the happiness, Hyuck.”

I can see his mind slowly wrapping around my words as something in his face shifts. He looks hesitant for a different reason.

“And what if I find my happiness in you?” I gasp, instinctively letting go of his face slightly. He’s fast to bring his hand up to keep mine there. His fingers slot between my gaps. He looks desperate to keep me here.

Knowing my words hold immense weight, I still don’t stop myself from saying, “Then I’ll be that for you, in whatever way I can.”

Despite me being vague, Donghyuck takes all that he can. His face blooms into a smile and I return it, knowing it was cause of me. He holds my hand this time and brings it down to my lap, sighing happily.

“Thank you.”

And for a split second, I’m scared for what I’ve promised. After all, he’s the prince and I’m the pauper.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

Donghyuck is the happiest he has ever been. Unlike how it was when he was a kid, he’s attending his classes, his meetings, and even having lunches with the princesses the Queen sends over. However, he can’t promise that these dates are leading up to a potential marriage. He’s doing just enough so that his mother doesn’t get suspicious. Best of all, for most nights, he gets to sneak into the kitchen and talk, bake, and laugh for hours.

The secret hangouts are going amazingly. He can tell she’s warming up to him as she did back then or maybe it’s just the fire from the oven heating up the place. Last week, the kitchen at her new bakery finally finished being built and he knows this because he hired his staff to make sure the job was done well without telling her. That day he expected her to come in and tell him that she had to stop seeing him, but she still showed up like clockwork – two to three times a week.

Next week, her bakery is set to have its grand opening and Donghyuck hopes this isn’t what actually stops her from coming to see him. He’s even practiced his baking skills on his own and eaten less of the fruit while they’re together in hopes it doesn’t make her want to leave again. And so for the following week, Donghyuck is treading carefully.

“Do you need help with that, Princess?”

“Should I preheat the oven for you?”

“Here, let me tie your apron.”

“I’ll carry that for you.”

All of these mini acts of chivalry are met with a suspicious gaze and a light dusting of red on her cheeks. Donghyuck feels a sense of achievement whenever she accepts his help. And this all leads up to the night before her grand opening.

Donghyuck is lighting the last candle when the sound of keys unlocking the side kitchen door is heard. He quickly blows out the match before scurrying behind the table to greet her with a “Surprise!”

“Donghyuck! Don’t do that! God, I thought I was caught for sneaking in.”

He rolls his eyes at her lackluster reaction and reorients himself.

“I said… Surprise!” He dramatically waves his arms around to show all the work he put into decorating the kitchen. She finally notices her surroundings and her eyes light up. Donghyuck can feel his heart soften, compared to how it was racing earlier trying to set all of this up without his staff.

“What… what is all of this?” Her hands are covering her mouth in disbelief. There are streamers and fairy lights gracing the walls and candles are littered all around the room. Donghyuck is standing in the center with a single cupcake in his hands.

“Congrats. I heard from the grapevine that your bakery opens tomorrow.” She laughs at his theatrics and sets her bag down to look at the cupcake he’s made. In messy red font, the top of the treat reads the name of her bakery. She almost wants to tear up.

“Only one? Are we sharing?” She takes the cupcake from his hands and he tries not to think too hard about her fingers touching his.

“Well, I made that myself, and I personally don’t trust that I didn’t mess up the recipe in some way. So if anyone’s getting food poisoning tonight, it’d be you.” He taps her nose. “Eat up!”

At that, her jaw drops and she keeps the cupcake at a distance as if it’s some nuclear substance.

“Do you secretly want me dead?” She laughs.

“Hey, when it comes down to a royal and a baker. The baker’s going.” Donghyuck mimics his throat being slit and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too hard. He loves to mess with her.

“You are the worst. Way to look out for your people, your highness.” She begins to unwrap the cupcake, taking a sniff out of precaution.

“‘Your Highness’? Aw, Princess, don’t be like that.” He moves closer to her and she shifts back, tutting.

“Nope. As a baker under your kingdom, I will gladly sacrifice myself by eating this cupcake. Alone.” She dramatically curtsies before going in for a hesitant bite.

Donghyuck swiftly beats her to it and takes a large bite out of the other end as her lips touch the cupcake. Her eyes widen in shock and he sends her a wink before brushing the crumbs off his mouth.

“Now you can’t tell me I don’t care about my people,” He says while chewing the weird texture of his creation. Donghyuck smirks at the deer-in-headlights reaction she has on her face.

She gulps, shaking her head so that her hair hides her blush. She sets the cupcake down, not wanting a reminder of how close his face just was.

“Well, it’s edible,” She jokes. Donghyuck’s tongue prods the inside of his mouth as he takes in what was supposedly a compliment.

“Says the one who took the smallest bite known to man,” He accuses, pointing at the cupcake.

“How was I supposed to take a bigger one when you practically shoved your face into it and devoured half?” Once again, she’s reminded of what just transpired and feels her cheeks growing warm.

“Ooo, did I make you flustered? Scared your lips were about to touch mine?” Donghyuck takes a step closer and brushes a nonexistent crumb off her lip with his thumb. He hopes she doesn’t feel his heart pounding like fireworks.

Like she can sense his fake confidence, she grabs his wrist. “Is that what you were thinking about when you took a bite? Kissing me?” She tilts her head to the side and his whole body buzzes.

Before he could crumble even further, he tears his hand out of hers. “Please. Like I’d let anyone touch these royal lips.” He turns around to calm himself down and pretends to busy himself with something on the fridge.

He hears her laugh behind him. “I bet they’re not as sweet as a baker’s.”

He turns around and narrows his eyes at her. “How did this grand opening celebration turn into you messing with me?” Accepting defeat, he resorts to fake anger and his signature pout.

“You started it,” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Anyways…”

With the softest smile, she says, “Thank you, Hyuck. I really appreciate you.”

He returns it, “Always.”

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and playful bickering as the two avoid finishing the mysteriously textured cupcake. Donghyuck makes multiple attempts to pit the blame on her as the teacher, and the soon-to-be bakery owner fails to leave and sleep early at the expense of the Prince’s whines. To be honest, the lack of sleep was worth it if she got to spend more time with him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Now that the bakery is well past its grand opening and flourishing greatly, I’ve gotten my days back. My employees are well-trained and seasoned and I feel comfortable taking days off when I need to. Oddly, my new opened-up schedule was somehow sensed by Donghyuck and I was invited to the palace during the daytime for the first time ever. I was nervous at first to be sneaking in in broad daylight, but he assured me that if I followed the steps he gave me exactly, I’d be fine – not that reassuring.

As written in his note, I greeted Yunseo, the guard, as usual, and he gave me weird looks, going back and forth between the sun and my face.

“You know the sun is out, right?” He asked, still looking at me funny.

I gave him the most incredulous look. “You’re joking? It’s not nighttime?” I made an effort to crazily look around and he sighed.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d switch things up,” I shrugged, not wanting to reveal who I was meeting.

Yunseo nodded, “Fair… okay, be careful, okay? The palace feels a little frantic today.” With that, he opened the gates for me and I gave him a smile.

“You’re the best. Make sure to stop by sometime this week, I have pastries for you.” I waved goodbye as he promised to come.

Following Donghyuck’s poorly drawn-out map, I realized our meeting point isn’t the kitchen and that he’s taking me on an obscure path that the Queen and King definitely are not aware exists. As I walk through centuries-old, dimly lit stone walls, I think about how many times Donghyuck has used these secret passageways and if little Donghyuck used these when he snuck out to see me, 15 years ago. I can imagine 7-year-old Donghyuck discovering these routes within the castle’s walls.

“Stop right there!” A voice echoes through the abandoned hallway.

My heart spazzes and as loud as my brain is yelling at me to run, my feet don’t budge. I curse under my breath and crumple Donghyuck’s map in my hands, remembering to kill him unless I die right here. And if I do happen to die here, then I have to make sure I return as a ghost, haunting that man for life. I turn around slowly, eyes half closed, to see who’s behind me, but there’s no one there. There’s no one in the passageway at all. I whip around a few more times to confirm and I notice a crack in the wall to my right. It’s a peephole overlooking the actual palace hallways.

Out of curiosity, I look through and I see the Queen, face as red as the beautiful gown she adorns.

“Prince Lee Donghyuck,” his name is spat out like bile. “You will follow my orders.”

Coming into view, I see Donghyuck. He and the Queen are in the middle of a heated argument. His head is hung low and I can see him playing with his sleeves like he does when he gets anxious. I wish to reach for him, but then I remember the wall separating us.

“Your majesty, I… I can’t. I don’t want to,” He hiccups, and if I can’t see the tears on his face, I can hear them. “I never did.”

The space in my chest feels as tight and narrow as the walkway I’m in and I want to look away, but I can’t.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You are the Prince and you are expected to marry a Princess. How dare you fool me for all these years?” As the Queen, she still carries her natural elegance, but her words burn like acid. She’s speaking to him at a normal volume, but her tone pierces your ears.

“I-I didn’t mean to fool you. I tried my best, but I don’t love them. I don’t love the suitresses you send. And I need you to understand that I never will.” Donghyuck finally looks up and I can see the desperation in his eyes from where I stand.

“Love?,” The Queen laughs bitterly. “I don’t need you to love them. You just need to marry one. As the Prince, what makes you think you have the privilege of being in love? Not when you have a country to rule.” There’s less anger in her words and more disappointment.

Donghyuck winces, looking like he’s fighting back what he wants to say. His bottom lip is trembling and the grip he has on his sleeves is tight. His whole body practically shakes. Eventually, he lets go.

“If I’m not meant to love someone, then explain to me why I already do. Explain to me why I love her? Explain to me why I can’t have her?!”

Tears are rolling down his cheeks like heavy rainfall. “I never asked for this!” He screams, and I wonder to which he’s referring to.

My body is sweaty like I ran a mile and I feel like my breathing can be heard through the wall. He never mentions my name, but I know, I can feel, that he’s talking about me. My whole body is buzzing and I don’t know whether to feel ecstatic or sad. Despite my confusion, one feeling is clear: fear. Before I can hear what the Queen has to say, I run.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

“Oh God. Sorry, I was supposed to get here before you. I was supposed to be part of the surprise,” He smiles meekly, praying the puffiness from crying doesn’t make him look strange. He accidentally sniffles and hopes she blames it on the flowers and his chronic allergies.

She’s sitting in the garden chair next to the tea table Donghyuck had set up an hour ago. He scoped out a secluded spot in the royal garden and slowly put everything together. He moves to sit down across from her and she’s staring intently at the cup in front of her.

“I asked Gran what your favorite tea is and brewed some for us. I know I don’t have your baking skills, but if we get hungry, we can sneak back to the kitchen,” he playfully winks, trying to hide the fact that he was in the worst state five minutes ago. Although he can’t bake, he can definitely make a good batch of tea. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold.

He waits for a response, but she’s still frozen, chewing the inside of her cheek. Maybe he’s still on edge from his argument with the Queen, but she doesn’t look happy. This is definitely not the reaction he was expecting.

“Do you wanna try the tea? I bet it’ll amaze you so much, you’ll beg me for the recipe,” he teases. The teapot hovers over her cup, but she makes no move to accept it.

“Okay, no tea. That’s fine,” Donghyuck chooses to laugh it off. “Do you wanna walk around? Most of the garden is secluded so we don’t have to worry about someone catching us.”

“Would that be so bad?” The first words she whispers strike him with confusion. Her voice is dry like she just strained it.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, scooting his chair in closer to hear her.

“Would that be so bad?” She says, unable to bate her anger. “Being caught with me? Would his royal highness hate being found walking with me?”

“Hey,” Donghyuck grabs her hand from her lap, interlocking his fingers. “What’s going on?” She tears her hand out from his hold like it stung and he feels like he’s making mistake after mistake.

“I-I’m sorry, is this too much? I wanted to do something nice for our first date outside of the kitchen. Was this a mistake?” He starts to stack the plates, quickly discarding his work. “I usually don’t plan these myself, so I’m sorry if this is bad. I-”

Donghyuck sees her wince in his peripheral and feels her hand on his wrist as he’s about to haphazardly dump the tea in the bushes. Her hands are cold today.

“Date?” The word leaves her mouth as if it made her sick.

The alarms go off in Donghyuck’s mind. “Date? Did I say date? Sorry, I actually mean-”

“Donghyuck,” she cuts him off. He can see her harshly swallow. “Why are you doing this?”

He blinks. “I… I wanted to do something nice for us. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Donghyuck can feel himself beginning to ramble.

“No. Why have you been hanging out with me? If it’s because you feel guilty about ditching me all those years ago, forget about it. I don’t care anymore.” She looks at him with so much intensity, not only trying to convince him, but convince herself that none of this matters.

“Princess, please. No, it’s not out of pity. You know that.” He shakes his head almost violently, begging her to believe his honest intentions. He was shocked he had to convince her in the first place, always assuming she knew his heart better than him.

Completely ignoring him, she continues, “And why aren’t you married yet?”

“W-what?” Similar to whiplash, Donghyuck feels like his brain has just been jostled. Are his ears tricking him and forcing him to relive the traumatic conversation he just had with his mother? Why is this topic being brought up?

“You’re the Prince,” she says like it’s an unwavering fact. “You’re meeting with princesses weekly. You’re meant to rule side by side as King and Queen. Why… why aren’t you married yet?” She asks and her eyes are ice cold like her hands.

She too closely resembles the older woman who was just yelling at him moments ago. The casing around his heart begins to harden and the feeling he gets from the girl in front of him is now anger. The same bitter taste returns in his mouth.

“Are you serious?” He looks at her and the Donghyuck she knows has washed away. Betrayal, rage, and sorrow are painted across his face. It was like she was looking through the peephole again.

“Don’t ask stupid questions you know the answers to,” he mutters, words barely making it past his tight lips. He’s breathing much harder than before.

“Answer me. Why. Aren’t. You. Married.” Her hands are gripping the edge of her knees to stop them from shaking.

Donghyuck stares at her for a long time, eyes flittering over every facial feature, confirming that she actually wants to hear the answer. Her face is firm and her question is set. He takes a deep, pained breath and leans back slightly.

“It’s because I love you.” Not like the confession he imagined in his head, Donghyuck reveals his long-term feelings like this was their end and not their new beginning. The period at the end of a sentence. The last page of a hardcover book. The last second on a timer.

She simply nods, stiff in the neck. She excuses herself before standing up, bowing, and walking away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That’ll be $6.06. Would you like your receipt?”

The cash register dings with another purchase and I slump back in my chair as the customer leaves. It was a slow and agonizing shift with only two more hours till closing. It’s also been a slow and agonizing two weeks.

I’m haunted by what went down at the royal garden almost every hour of the day. At first, I was using every chance I could get to skip work and wallow at home. But suddenly the plants in my room reminded me of him and the teacups in my cabinets smelled like the tea he prepared for us. So for the second week, I decided to dedicate myself to work. I’ve been coming in every single day and overworking myself to the point where my employees don’t know what to do but stand around. I debate whether or not to let them leave early when a familiar head of brown hair walks in. My heart picks up its pace and it’s like the teacups all over again.

“Donghyu- oh. Hi, welcome!” I smile wide, trying to hide the previous disappointment drawn on my face. The customer gives me an awkward smile back and begins browsing the pastry racks as I mentally slap myself.

I slump down to the floor behind the counter and silently groan in my hands. Why does every male brunette customer these past two weeks remind me of him? And why are there so many of them? Like every other time I’ve confused a customer with Donghyuck, the guilt begins to creep back into my system and I get flashbacks of our last conversation.

“Why aren’t you married?,” I mock my own voice. “Are you stupid?” I repeatedly hit my palms against my head when I hear a ding from the counter bell. I quickly shoot up and brush the bangs out of my face, hoping the customer thinks I’m at least slightly normal.

“Hi, how can I hel- Grandma!” On instinct, I glance behind her, foolishly hoping he’s hiding behind her tiny frame, and my shoulders slump when I’m met with no one. So now I’m really imagining him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, composing myself.

“Just checking in on you. I notice you haven’t been coming to the kitchen because when I come in in the mornings, my counter is actually clean,” she jokes. I smile sheepishly and nervously adjust the apron string around my neck.

“Sorry, it’s usually Donghyuck’s fault,” I quickly clear my throat, answering a little too fast. “The Prince, I mean.”

Grandma’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of his name and she looks down at her feet, suddenly fidgety. I notice her change in demeanor instantly.

“Speaking of him…”

“We don’t need to,” I cut her off. “Speak about him, I mean.” I wince at how suspicious my words sound.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m just curious… if anything happened between you two.” She whispers the last part, looking back at the customer to make sure he can’t hear. She clears her throat and steps behind the counter with me, naturally rearranging the bread in the display case. She busies herself while encouraging me to speak.

I gnaw on my lip, tapping the counter, debating if I should finally talk it out with someone. I’ve only been talking to my employees about bread starters and yeast.

“We fought.” I admit.

“About?” Grandma loads the case with more bread. I start passing them to her one by one.

“He told me… he told me he loved me.” I press my lips together and I hear her head hit the top of the display case and the bread hit the floor. “Grandma! Are you okay?”

I crouch down, grabbing the top of her head to inspect, and she’s giving me the most incredulous look.

“He told you he loved you?!” She squealed at an embarrassingly non-discrete volume, making the customer drop the pastry in his hands. He’s looking around, frazzled, and I can see him debate whether or not he should pick it back up.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll clean it up!” I screamed from behind the counter.

“Grandma, keep it down,” I curse through my teeth.

She’s rubbing her head and shaking it in either pain or confusion.

“I know, I know. A Prince saying he’s in love with the baker’s granddaughter is farfetched and unrealistic. I get it.” It’s what has been circling through my brain every day.

“That’s not what I’m confused about, dear.” She looks like she’s debating what to say next. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear what?” At the end of my question, and like a universal sign, the door jingles and the mailman is rushing in, hair swept back by the wind.

“Sorry! I forgot to drop this off this morning. It’s urgent mail.” He salutes and is out the door as quickly as he enters.

On the counter is a letter with the royal stamp. My stomach feels queasy assuming this is the first contact I’ve had from Donghyuck since our fight, but I can’t help the naive smile that breaks out on my face. I rush to open it, not worrying about the papercuts. Every doubt that was just in my head disappeared and my grandma interjects, hoping to bring me back down from my high.

“Sweetie, wait. I need to tell you that-”

To the owner of Princess Bakery,

Prince Lee Donghyuck will be celebrating his union with Princess Nam Soohae on 26 May, 2023 at the royal garden grounds. The royal family requests a wedding cake to be made with your expertise and culinary skills.

Please accept this royal assignment with details soon to come.

Signed,

The Lees

The words on the page silenced me and my thoughts, my breaths barely leaving my lips. My eyes kept darting across the paper; the calligraphed words are being repeated over and over again in my brain.

Prince Lee Donghyuck.

His union.

Wedding cake.

Realization finally dawns that this isn’t the love letter or apology I was expecting from Prince Donghyuck. A breath finally escapes and it’s shaky as it wavers in the air like an offkey music note. A heart-stopping pain envelopes my chest and it seizes up to my eyes. The whites of the paper burn my irises. I catch a teardrop splattering onto the parchment. I’m haunted with images of Donghyuck at the altar with someone else. And then I’m thinking about the garden. And us.

Surprise.

Our first date.

Because I love you.

Because he loves me? Because Prince Lee Donghyuck loves me? Prince Lee Donghyuck who is getting married to an actual princess in a week? Suddenly, it feels like the floor’s unsteady and the oven temperature was turned up to the highest. The letter wrinkles between my fingers and the ink smudges with salty tears.

This is what I was afraid of. And yet this is what I set myself up for. I knew I should have stopped seeing him. I knew it the moment mango tarts began to remind me of him. The moment my secret ingredient of love found in every bake was powered by him and his place in my heart. Even though I meant to stop this from happening during our talk in the royal garden, that small teaspoon of hope was still sprinkled in my mind. That hope stayed every time I saw a plant, a teacup, or a brunette. But now it’s dissolved.

A new feeling washes over me. One that I haven’t felt once these past two weeks. Not false hope. Not heartbreak. And not regret.

Anger.

“Don’t blame him.”

My grandma’s words slice through the red and her hands on my arms attempt to calm me down. I look up through wet lashes, lips trembling.

“Donghyuck… Prince Donghyuck had no say. The royals… they never do.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my grandma?” I clench my jaw to stop the shaking, slightly regretting my bitter words.

Her grip is softer. “Oh honey, I am. And that’s why I’m telling you not to waste this energy on being mad at him. What you guys share is beautiful, don’t let this taint it.” She takes the letter out of my hands and physically turns me to face her.

“Shared,” I corrected her.

“Share,” She corrects me. “Your love for each other is seen by everyone. I know it can’t flourish the way love is supposed to, but at least cherish it for what it was.”

Her words reintroduce more feelings. Sorrow. Frustration.

“I was really hoping this time it works out…” She voices my thoughts.

At this point, I’m hiccupping between breaths, caught between reliving the past and hearing these explanations. The world was never meant to have us together it seems. But at least I was told this time we had an ending.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next royal letter came two days after the first, and I was called to spend a week in the royal palace to test out different wedding cakes. I essentially had no choice but to say yes as the royal chauffeurs picked me up every morning to take me there. It felt like those sunrises with my grandma when I was seven but the butterflies in my stomach turned into bees. Unlike the past, I prayed I wouldn’t run into Prince Donghyuck, but with him having requested I make his cake, I’m sure he knows I’m here.

My grandma designated a portion of the kitchen to me as the head baker and it mimicked the old days as much as it could. That was until I got a visitor on the second day.

“Good morning! I’m Princess Nam Soohae.”

My eyes widened and my whisk fell out of my grasp as I took in her presence. She’s beautiful. She’s an actual princess. Her bright, toothy smile would’ve made anyone smitten if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to marry the man I loved. The pretty pink dress she wore was tinted green through my eyes. I shook my head, trying to remind myself of my place.

“Good morning,” I bowed. “I’m the baker in charge of your wedding cake.” My smile faltered only slightly with the mention of the union.

She giggles and I almost want to laugh with her. “I know that, silly. I was sent by the Queen to sample some. Or should I say my future mother-in-law.” She bites her perfectly manicured nail with excitement.

Soohae leans her hands on the counter and peers at the bowl in my hand.

“Is there any to try right now?” Her head surveys the kitchen like a kid looking for cookies. It’s genuinely hard to dislike her.

“Um, I have a few cakes placed to the side to cool right now. There’s no frosting on it yet, but I’m sure it’d be good to try the base first!” I move to grab one of the trays and she flutters to follow me.

“Ooooh!” She gushes. “I’m so excited to try it. My own wedding cake, can you believe it?”

“No.” I almost drop the cake. “I mean, yes? Sorry. Getting married to the one you love is… it’s a crazy thing.” I cut a piece of cake and place it on a plate for her.

She doesn’t hesitate to take a bite and as she chews, she thinks.

“I don’t love him yet, to be honest. This cake is really good, by the way.” I start cutting a slice from the other cake to sample. “But I know I will love him eventually. I already get butterflies when I look at him. I trust that he’s the one for me, I mean have you seen him?”

Before I can agree, and thank god she doesn’t give me a second to, she continues, “I know it’s silly for a person in my position to believe in the one. But I really, really do think it could be him. The other day he brought me my favorite flowers, like how did he know?!” She pops a bite of the other cake in and her eyes light up.

“Oh this is the one! Don’t even think about giving me another,” The Princess reaches for another bite and applauds me.

I laugh and make sure to note to go with the lemon base and not the mango one. As my hands are about to toss the mango cake away, my mind stops me and I consider whether Donghyuck would prefer this instead. The clanking of the Princess’s fork on the plate, finishing the lemon cake slice till it’s crumbs, reels me back and I let the cake fall into the garbage. It feels eerily like a metaphor.

For the rest of the week, Princess Soohae visits me and taste tests the frosting, fondant, and other things she wants. With every passing day, I hear more about Haechan and I can feel that her words have turned fonder. Coincidentally, her sweet tooth has gotten worse and the final components of the wedding cake are a complete sugar bomb like her personality.

On my final day, the Queen joins her. The last time I saw her majesty, she was berating the Prince as I secretly watched. It felt like I was in that hidden passageway again as she watches me prepare a slice of the wedding cake for her. My hands shake, placing the plate down in front of her and her gaze is sharp. It’s interesting how harsh her energy is when her facial features are as soft as the Prince’s. She looks like she’s been through a lot and I wonder if Donghyuck will experience the same thing when he fulfills his role as King. Like she can tell I’m thinking about him, The Queen’s eyes narrow.

“I hope you enjoy,” I bow, and she doesn’t say a word. Princess Soohae on the other hand is completely bubbling over how good it turned out and how her guests are sure to love it too.

The Queen simply nibbles on a piece and nods along. The black and white vibes almost give me whiplash as I stand there, watching the two of them. A sweat forms on my hairline and I’m internally glad this is my last day. I can’t go through this any longer.

And like a karmic jinx, the kitchen door opens and a familiar brunette walks in. This time, it is him.

“Oh my! Prince Donghyuck!” Princess Soohae scrambles off her chair and bows both gracefully and clumsily. I bow as well, trying hard to hide the immediate blush on my face I get whenever I see him. I wonder if I can stay bowing so I don’t have to meet his face. The last time we saw each other was when we talked at the royal garden, and as much as I prayed I wouldn’t run into him here, truthfully, a part of me also hoped I would.

As soon as I force myself to stand up straight, we lock eyes and the strain in my chest loosens like a snapped thread. I can feel my lungs fill with air and it’s relieving to see him again after so long. It hurts in the best way as I’m overwhelmed by his presence. That familiar brown waved hair, the sunkissed tan skin, and the plump smiley cheeks. Everything is how I left it but his expression is not one I expected. He’s in complete shock and I don’t know what to do but look around the room to find something that would cause such surprise. I quickly glance at the Queen, and for the first time since she sat down, there’s a small lift in the corner of her mouth. Is she smirking?

“Princess?” He tilts his head, still staring at me before he realizes what he just called me. “Princess! Princess Soohae! I came to get you.” He runs over to grab her hand and the lifted cheekbones on her face tells me she’s grinning.

“What- uh- what’s going on?” I’m fixated on the way he fiddles with her hand as he looks around the room for answers.

“Cake testing? How did you forget, silly?” Princess Soohae laughs as she playfully pats his cheeks. Everyone in the room can tell she’s head over heels and my stomach hurts. As I’m clutching my stomach and the Prince stares at me quizzically, there’s one person in the room watching all of this go down.

“She’s the wedding cake baker we outsourced, Prince Donghyuck.” The Queen says calmly, gesturing to me. She tells him like it’s his first time hearing this and I’m taken aback, my movements making the utensils on the table quiver slightly.

“He didn’t know?” My mouth was too quick to voice my thoughts. “His highness, I mean.” I bow in apology.

“No. No, I didn’t.” His hands are at his side now, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. The shock left his face and now he’s staring at me with pity and then silent anger when his head turns towards the Queen. My eyes follow his and she returns his look as if to challenge him to say more.

Completely obvious to the shift in atmosphere, Princess Soohae raves about the final wedding cake decisions and begs the Prince to try a bite. He turns her down without sparing a glance and asks her to leave with him. He doesn’t give me a second thought as he breaks eye contact with the Queen and drags his future wife away. There’s no stopping the ache that fills my chest again, slow but strong like the rising tide.

“So he still likes you.”

Snapped out of my haze, my ears don’t believe the words I hear coming from the Queen’s lips.

“Pardon?” She’s looking at me now and it’s a mixture of disappointment and disinterest etched on her face. The warmth on her face has depleted.

“My son. Prince Donghyuck. He still likes you,” she laughs dryly. “After all these years…”

My eyebrows furrow and I feel myself getting dizzy. Maybe this is all some sort of hallucination and the Queen isn’t talking to me right now. I grip the counter for support, and she doesn’t wait for me to respond.

“You know, I thought I handled the issue 15 years ago when I asked the head baker to stop bringing you here. I was stupid to think it would be that easy when he purposely sabotaged every date I set up for him the years after.”

She’s twirling the fork on the plate now and the scrapes make me flinch. The kitchen no longer feels like a safe space for me right now as her words slowly suffocate me.

“And when he started to actually go on these dates this year and report back to me that they’re going well? I was foolish to think it was him beginning to try. I saw you one day, back in this kitchen. Back in his life. It all made sense and it made me so angry.” Her hands grip the fork handle. They’re dainty, but if you look close, they’re calloused, indicating years of work. Her face appears the same. If it weren’t for the terrifying state I was in, I would’ve wanted to comfort her. She looks up at me, and I felt tinier than I did before, her eyes piercing into me.

“Do you not understand the life I’m trying to set up for Donghyuck? He’s the future king. He needs a queen, a real queen to survive in this world. As the queen, I know firsthand what he needs. My king wouldn’t be anywhere without me and his mother who set me up with him. You’re not fit for this role and you never will be.” She finally sets the fork down with a clatter.

“Listen to me, and let him go. It’s what’s best.” Her threatening nature fades as quickly as it came and she gracefully stands up, brushing the nonexistent debris on her gown. The Queen gives me one final look, waiting for me to bow and essentially agree, before leaving the kitchen.

The air returns and I grasp my chest to let myself breathe. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I choke back sobs.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Remember, it’s the room on the right hallway. Third door. And if anyone sees you, don’t tell them I sent you. I’ll get in trouble.” My grandma hammers in the details one more time, waiting for me to nod in confirmation.

It’s the end of my final day and she asked me to deliver pastries to a room in the palace before I leave, saying her workload is too large to be going herself. I figured it’s one more thing I could do before I never step foot in the palace again. I almost turned her down earlier in fear of running into the Queen. Just the thought of that happening makes me feel sick, but I know I won’t be seeing her again after this anyways.

I scoff, “So you’d rather I get sent to the guillotine?” I tease her with an exaggerated horrified look.

She easily flicks my forehead, despite our height difference, and I grab it wincing. “You’re lucky I don’t chop off your head myself with that attitude of yours.” She sneers at me and I giggle.

“Fair…,” I playfully mutter, soothing the area between my brows.

Her directions sent me to a room with beautiful brown double doors. I smile at the two ladies standing outside of it and I’m about to explain why I’m here before they cut me off.

“Pastry delivery for the Prince?” They say in unison.

Like a horror movie, my jaw drops and I lose my instinct to run. One thing I do know is to make sure I yell at my grandma later as I nod and tell them they’re correct. She completely set me up.

On another occasion, I would’ve appreciated the doors to Prince Donghyuck’s bedroom more, but right now, they look like the gates of Hell. I attempt to swallow whatever saliva was left in my suddenly dry mouth as I brushed my hair out of my face. The ladies allow me to knock on the door. My palms are sweaty as I shakily knock on the varnished wood, hearing it echo into the space on the other side. His room must be huge.

No responses are heard. This was my out, but my body was telling me not to leave, even though my mind was screaming to run. Instead of knocking again, I turn the knob and almost wish it wasn’t unlocked, but it was.

There he is on the other side, scribbling at his desk. His back is facing me and I watch the muscles in them move with vigor. I haven’t seen him work this hard since he convinced me to teach him how to make a creme brulée and accidentally made scrambled eggs with the yolks.

I shut the door behind me and hope it catches his attention, but it doesn’t. I gulp, realizing how very real this situation is and I almost want to throw up knowing I have to speak.

“Hyuck.”

I hear him inhale and he spins quickly out of his chair to look at me. Different to how it felt seeing him in the kitchen earlier today, his face is softer, accepting my presence. My heart floats in my chest, wondering why I was so nervous to see him when just the sight of him oozes comfort. He looks at me like he’s feeling the same way. I see the longing in his eyes and the way they warm, I close my own to stop myself from giving in too much.

“Princess.”

His voice is fragile and his choice of words makes me shut my eyes harder, scared that I’d lose all my resilience and run straight into his arms. He doesn’t correct himself this time, and he says it again with more confidence.

I finally peel them open and force myself to act cold. Just an hour ago I was finishing his wedding cake; this fire has to be extinguished.

“Princess Soohae will make a great queen.” I move to set the pastry basket down on a table near me.

“It’s not what you think. I was going to-“ He turns around in a frenzy and grabs the paper he was just writing on. The Prince takes a step closer and it takes all my strength to recoil. It takes all of me not to be swayed by the obvious hurt on his face. This will be good for us, I have to remind myself.

My hand is up, drawing the line. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitantly puts his arm down, eyebrow twitched in confusion. The paper is still in his hands.

“I got you a gift,” I partly smile. “A wedding gift and I guess, also… a goodbye gift.” With that statement, I break away from his stare, fixating on a corner in his grand room.

I hear paper wrinkling. “A goodbye gift?” His voice gets lower and it causes me to wince. It feels like all the tension in the room gathered in the small vacancy in my chest and the overwhelming pressure makes my eyes sting. I can already feel the tears build up as I play with the hem of my shirt.

“Mhm,” I painfully affirm. “The wedding cake. It’s both my gift and my goodbye. I thought you requested it when I first got the royal letter,” I laugh at the situation, trying to stop myself from letting him see me cry.

“Turns out it wasn’t you, but regardless. You’re getting married and I can’t be here anymore. So I left it in the kitchen. Obviously, it’s not a goodbye-goodbye, since I’ll still be living here in the city, but… No. Yeah, it’s a goodbye,” I nod to myself, trying to unravel the knot in my throat. “I guess you took my advice, huh? Congratulations, your highness.”

The silence from him is thick and it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. It calls me to look up at him, and his eyes are icy cold. The sweet honey brown is as dark as coal.

“This is your response?” His words are robotic, I can feel the venom on his tongue as it pricks at my heart.

“S-sorry?” I tilt my head, not understanding him. It felt terrifying to make him repeat himself in the state he’s in.

“I told you I loved you. I’m assuming this is your response.” My eyes flicker to the paper in his fist, no longer readable. Neither is his face as he gives me the blankest look. It makes me want to cry more knowing this is how I will remember our last moments.

This time, I do take a step towards him but he’s shaking his head aggressively, lower back pressed against the edge of his desk. Now I know how he felt.

“If you want to hear me say ‘I love you’, you know I can’t do that.” Just having those three words leave my lips causes a tear to roll down my cheek.

“Because I’m the Prince?” This time, his expression changes to match mine. I can feel the frustration and pain radiating off of him, and all I want to do is to tell him what he needs to hear. But I just nod, forcing a distance.

“So it always mattered. What if… what if it was 7-year-old Donghyuck asking his princess? What would you have said? You didn’t know who I was back then. I was just… just Donghyuck.” He sighs, his body is limp as he settles onto his desk. I notice his frail build, worried that he’s been eating less.

I smile, fondly remembering the ignorant bliss from 15 years ago. But then I’m forced to remember our situation now, our ugly situation where our hearts are demanded to stay silent.

“I would’ve told him I loved him too.”

And with that, all strength is gone as I sob into my palm. I’m trying to force the wails in, but my body is shaking. My legs feel weak and he’s over here and his arms are wrapped tightly around me in a second. I can feel his heart beating against my arm trapped between our bodies and his breath shakily blowing on the top of my head. One hand is holding me tight and the other is brushing through my hair as he shushes me.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” He repeats. A part of me thinks this is to calm himself down too.

I know I’m right when I slowly pull myself back and see the red in his eyes and on the tip of his nose. My hand flinches as I’m about to caress his cheek. His breath is steadier as it now fans across my face and his eyes are lidded like they’ve finally got some rest. My hesitation vanishes as I let myself cup his face, trace the constellation painted on his cheek, and feel the sweetness of his lips on mine. The warm sensation that envelops my body makes me gasp and Donghyuck tightens his embrace on me, refusing to let go. He tasted better than every sweet treat I’ve had combined. He was intoxicating and my whole body buzzed like a sugar rush.

I close my eyes tighter, savoring the feeling of his lips, wanting to remember every trace — letting myself be selfish this last time. He’s sugary, cozy, and soothing like the afternoon sun on my back. His mouth moves with such ease against mine and it feels like I’ve been kissing him my whole life. The feeling of his tongue gently nudging my bottom lip jolts me back to reality and I push away, seized by the cold air of his big room again.

I bring my hands to my face, hoping to cool down the flush. The Prince is breathing as heavily and in sync with me, and all I can hear is our matching breaths and the ringing in my ears. I have to end it here.

“Um. Congratulations on your wedding,” I say in one breath. I don’t dare look at him as I quickly bow, scrambling to his door.

“Princess! Wait,” He grabs my wrist, almost too tight. “I can’t go through with this. Please, I-I only want to marry you.”

“Your highness…”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Say my name, please. Call me Hyuck. Call me Donghyuck. Anything but that. Just don’t-“ His teeth are chattering and he blinks away the tears. “Don’t leave me again.”

Without a second thought, I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ Even with tears blurring my vision, I can see the hurt on his face and I feel a part of my heart rot. It pains me just as much to reject him, but the Queen’s words swirl around in my head, unrelentless. I’m forced to leave him and my heart here and I want to scream, but I can’t. He notices that. It reminds him of himself.

Letting the finality of my decision settle in, he lets go of me, taking in a shaky breath. This was our end.

I restrain myself from taking any steps towards him as I reach for the door behind me. The wooden panel swings open, gliding past my extended fingers as I’m met with the face of the Queen.

That same hand shoots up to touch my lips, remembering what just happened in here and I bow till my hair grazes the tiled floors.

“Your Majesty,” I squeak. She looks at me with a million emotions and plants her glare at the Prince. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together, her face twists into anger, dissecting the situation. I take this as my cue to leave but the Queen shuts the door behind the both of us. I don’t hear the Prince make any moves to save me.

“What were you doing in there?” She angrily whispers between clenched teeth. Not sure what comes over me, but the fear I felt before is gone. Instead, I’m left feeling numb.

“Don’t worry. I was just saying goodbye.” I swallow, bracing myself for her reprimands.

A beat passes, before she speaks, this time in a normal tone. “Are you done?”

I nod, “Yes, and I’d like to be excused from attending the wedding to serve the cake.” The Queen’s eyebrows quirk up, shocked that I’ve made a request. I look her straight in the eyes so she knows I mean it.

“I can’t… I can’t be there for that. I believe I’ve done all the preparation I can and I am not needed to actually attend.” My confidence waivers, and I draw my attention back to the ground.

“Fair enough. You don’t have to attend. I’ll tell the other bakers to serve it.” I take my chance to meet her eyes again and I can almost see concern on her face. I shake my head of that ridiculous thought, and offer her my best smile.

“Thank you, your majesty.” I bow before dragging my feet off the palace grounds. Hoping to never set foot in here ever again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bells. I plan to remove all bells from my bakery. The royal wedding bells have been ringing all morning and I don’t need any more reminders moving forward.

I spent the whole night crying after leaving the palace and then my anxiety kicked in, trying to get me to map out my life without him. Naturally, I planned to pour myself into work and here I am, out of bed, manning the shop by myself on his wedding day. I may have cried into a batch of dough in the morning, but baby steps are important. This is only day one anyways.

I realized I made a mistake leaving the house when I overheard everyone in town talk about the wedding of the century. I even let my employees off for the day, mainly to have my space to wallow alone. Practically everyone was outside the palace gates, waiting to get a glimpse of the couple. The streets were currently empty and I wonder if I should just close up shop.

Right when I was about to count up the cash and close out the register, the bell on the door jingles. I’m halfway into the one dollar bills when I roll my eyes at the sound, pressing my lips together to stop a groan. I make a mental note to remove the bell before I leave.

I look up to check on the customer and I see a man with, of course, brown hair surveying the bread on the back wall. All I can see is the back of his head as he peruses. I scoff to myself at the instant fluttering of my chest at yet another brunette customer. Is no one blond anymore? Are gingers that rare for me to never encounter one in my bakery?

I finish counting the ones and I move onto the fives when I realize he’s still standing in the same spot. I’m organizing the bills in my hands as I examine him. Normal guy. Black hoodie. Jeans.

Maybe he’s just really indecisive. I can see him tapping his foot from the counter. I decide to offer help after I finish counting the five dollar bills.

With the last dollar to count, I place it in the tray and slowly walk over to the man. As I get closer, my stranger danger instincts kick in and I suddenly regret my decision. His foot is still shaking and from this close, I can see him fidgeting with his sleeves in front of him. I grab a pair of tongs from the closest case and approach him.

“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you find something?” I have the tongs gripped with both hands, discreetly but ready to swing.

I see his body tense and my breath hitches, thinking I’m really going to have to hit this man with my makeshift weapon.

He turns around painstakingly slow and I raise the tongs instinctively to block my face, before letting out a squeal.

But then I see his face. And different bells go off.

“Oh my god. Hyuck?”

The bags under his eyes are prominent and I finally notice the way his hair has been pulled in different directions. His lips are dry as he cracks a sheepish smile. He’s rubbing the back of his neck and notices the kitchen utensil in my hands.

“Were you gonna hit me?!” His mouth is open in surprise and he’s taking the tongs from my hands. I let him and put my hands up in defense.

“You were standing there for so long, all fidgety! I’m alone in here, what was I supposed to think?” I fight back, taking the tongs back and clutching it close to my chest.

He lets out a long sigh, seemingly frustrated with himself as he runs his hands through his hair. I hate that I find it attractive.

“Wait.” He looks up at me through his lashes, swallowing. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He blinks, knowing that question was coming.

I expected to feel sick awaiting his answer, but instead my heart is racing, anticipating his next words. I almost feel that false hope I felt a week ago, and I try hard to deny it. But the way he’s looking at me leaves me with no doubts.

I’m about to push him out the door when he digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. The wrinkled piece of paper from yesterday. He plays with it in his hands as he thinks about his next move.

“I was drafting a request to get the law changed.”

His words peak my interest. I set the tongs down and let him continue. Wrapping my arms around my waist for security, I’m fearful of what he has to say next.

“I’ve actually been working on it for the past two months.” He flattens the paper out in his hands. “You caught me finishing the final draft yesterday. I didn’t expect it to take up until my wedding day…” He laughs, unhumored by the situation.

He hands it to me. “This is an old copy now, but it’s actually already being reviewed by the King. Right now. Being who I am, I fled just in case.”

He looks at me anxiously as I read the top of the page, the words in bold:

Formal Petition to Repeal the Royal Marriage Ordinance

Written By Prince Lee Donghyuck

My eyes don’t believe what’s written, like the royal letter I received not too long ago, requesting I bake the royal wedding cake. The same royal stamp and all rests in the top left corner.

This time, I can read the words clearly. They settle into my chest, leaving me with such a funny feeling. I read the text and I can tell it’s written by him. I imagine him staying up every night after we meet in the kitchen, working by himself on this proposal. All of his hard work for the past couple months was printed on this very paper. All this work… for us.

I feel my cheeks wet from pure joy and I cover the smile straining my mouth. A rush unfurls through my body like sweet, sweet sugar and I look up to share it with him.

“Donghyuck… You-?”

“Marry me.”

He gets down on one knee, holding my free hand. He’s rubbing that one spot on my ring finger and it feels unreal. The gleam in his eyes reminds me of the toasty fires in the oven, the glistening mangos on his favorite tart. His smile matches mine, nervous just slightly, and I want to paint this memory in my brain forever. The love and desperation in his eyes are begging me to think of him. Think of us. Every fear that had been eating away at me the past month was overcome by his pleas. This paper and his actions are proof that we can happen.

He continues,

“Princess, please marry me. I’ve only wanted to marry you almost my entire life. I know that sounds crazy, but how can I doubt my obvious soulmate? You always come back to me, but I still don’t want another reason for you to have to leave. So please, trust me and trust us. Forget everything and everyone else and say you’ll marry me. If this petition doesn’t pass, I’ll continue to fight. Just…

Say you’ll be my princess forever.”

I tug his hand softly to get him to stand up. He obliges and I free my hands to hold his face. He finally breathes and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I can feel him relax and his hands rest on my hips, drawn like a magnet. My mind is bouncing back and forth trying to contain the frenzy in my heart and the steady warmth of my core. I tap his eyelid lightly with my thumb and ask him to look at me. He opens them slowly, fear still trickling in his irises. I smile at him.

“My Prince,” His breath hitches. “I love you too.”

Donghyuck wastes no time tucking his head into my neck and lifting me against his body. He spins me around between the cases of bread and I giggle, feeling his heart beat erratically against mine. He softly lets my feet touch the ground and we’re looking at each other again, tears adding sparkles to his eyes. I wipe them away instantly.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers, but it feels like he said it with his whole being.

“Always.” I say with just as much commitment.

We’re cherishing the moment together, laughing at how happy we get to be, when the wedding bells go off once more. I look at him with confusion and he shrugs, just as lost.

“I can’t believe my wedding cake is going to waste,” I pout, remembering all my hardwork. And he squeezes my hip at my choice to be silly, snickering.

“I can’t believe you went with a lemon cake. Do you even know me?” He teases, pretending to be hurt. I gasp, slapping his chest.

“I’ll make sure to go with the mango tarts for ours.” I press a soft kiss on his lips and he smiles with me, pulling me unbelievably closer.

“I like the sound of that,” Donghyuck hums.

“I’m sure you do.” I laugh.

Donghyuck and I stand there in each other’s arms for as long as our legs allow. We talk about the past, how it felt to leave each other. We talk about the garden and I admit to catching him talk to his mom, which explains everything he needs to know. Even as I’m profusely apologizing, he’s doing the same, saying sorry for putting me in such a situation. I choose to ask about Princess Soohae and he bites his lip nervously, telling me he hasn’t handled that predicament yet. I almost drag him out of the bakery at the sound of that. We even go over his repeal proposal and I call him out for some typos.

Eventually we move to the kitchen, doing what we do best, and what we’ve done for years, waiting for someone to find him. The Prince and his Princess.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: i hope you enjoyed!! pls like, reblog, reply, whatever!! if u want hehe

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