#Pink strawberry milk now on sale

[contaiinedarmageddon2]

❌ for Feferi :3

//Feferi forced to actually meet Sollux. Eughageyahgnuagh.

No that's too horrible, this is a family friendly smut barn. How's about:

Feferi, in her constant quest for corporate dominance and the eventual eclipsing of the Condesce, began to seek more wild ideas. Not every timeline worked on the same rules, making copying successful products from other universes often more complicated than it was worth.

Some were more successful at adapting or smuggling technologies across time-lines though. One unsavory Sollux in particular had been a resource in the past where the odd gizmo or gadget was concerned. Now though she was on the cusp of launching a full scale manufacturing operation for one technology sourced from them, a pill for modifying body proportions. Plastic surgery was forever too niche and too flawed to mass-market, but this purported to be fully organic. Feferi could toss in some marketing about it being "All natural" and "Unlocking your body's true potential!" and have the public eating out of her hands!

She couldn't resist the temptation to do the final test run on this modified version of the original pill sent to her on herself. A little more up top never hurt! Now what were those instructions? Feferi was a busy business mogul, and Sollux's messages tended to be a potent cocktail of inscrutable and boring. He usually sent more anyways, they could wait. Oh well, her personal team knew what they were doing without any weirdo's advice. It's supposed to be pop it and watch the results! So she did just that, throwing it back with practiced ease and washing it down with a glass of milk. The coffee machine had been down this morning, so she'd poured that instead.

This proved catastrophic. The pill was never, ever to be taken with milk. Coming from a timeline of more humanoid trolls, it worked off the systems of the body responsible for making it, and upon finding itself in an environment already full of it, assumed it needed to go into overdrive to compensate for some mighty need not being met already. Over the next few weeks Feferi found herself blowing through suits, blazers, blouses, shirts, then tablecloths and tarps as her chest pumped larger and heavier. It wasn't just that hauling around constantly sloshing boulders was a distraction for those around her, it became steadily harder for the corporate heiress to think for herself. Her mind constantly thinking of when she might get the next release of pumping out the ever-growing flow. Each milking session put a history of countless debauchery to shame as her mind was seared blank by the flood of pleasure that emptying out gave her. But it was never truly empty.

By the time The Condesce finally had enough and shipped Feferi off to a warehouse to slap a set of mechanical pumps on her, she could only moan out a thank you. And moo, of course.

[desertdollranch]

It has become an annual tradition for me to help Antonia put together her farmer's market booth, where she sells all of the fruits, vegetables, and homemade goods that her family's community farm has produced over the past year. Every year, the harvest brings more and more goods. But this autumn, she has outgrown the farmer's market, and is now selling at a roadside stand!

Antonia is ten years old in 1978, when she is inspired by the American Indian Movement to help establish a community farm on land her family owns. It's been a huge success. It has strengthened bonds between friends and neighbors as they all care for each other and make sure that nobody goes hungry.

Whatever is left over after everyone is fed, is then sold at the roadside stand. Antonia is also supplementing with a few special handmade extras that help bring in a little more money. The money will help pay for everything needed to help Snow Mountain Farm grow bigger and better.

Antonia is so proud of what the fields and orchards have grown.

Just look at the size of some of these pumpkins!

Under the cut, Antonia will give you an up-close look at what she's selling....

Everything seen here was either made by me, harvested from the wild, or purchased. (See if you can guess which ones were handmade/bought/gathered!)

The gourd and squash harvest was abundant this year. Antonia managed to coax the garden into producing a few giant pumpkins.

Lots of other fruits thrived as well!

Pears are new this year.

Beautiful pink plums are also new.

Apples are a returning favorite. There are three varieties this year: sweet yellow apples, tart green apples, and a red striped variety that has its own unique flavor.

In the front row are apples, plums, chiles, and pears. On the shelf there are fresh flowers and packaged seeds, various fruit jams, honey, apple cider, dried ground herbs, potted herb seedlings, packaged seeds, and bottles of apple cider.

Up on the shelf there are several varieties of jam: rose petal, peach, grape, prickly pear, and strawberry. Next to them is honey that the farm's bees made from the local wildflowers. The apple cider is made from apples grown in the farm's orchard.

One particular farmer is very gifted in the art of raising flowers. Here you can buy fresh cut flowers, or seedlings for your own garden.

Fruit and vegetable seedlings or seeds are also for sale.

On the checkout counter, Antonia is selling popcorn and apple cider donuts. Directly below the donuts are cartons of eggs, which include white, brown, and speckled eggs.

Below the checkout counter is the small shelf offering some smaller items. In the plastic bags are freshly made tamales, which are like dumplings of meat, veggies, beans, or cheese mixed with a corn dough and steamed inside corn husks. To the right are two wheels of goat's milk cheese. In the middle are skeins of yarn dyed with natural sources, like prickly pear fruits and cabbage leaves. Next to those are bars of soap, in sagebrush or rose petal scent. And on the right end of the shelf are bagged pine nuts, gathered from the wild.

Below that is more produce! On the left, colored corn. In the crates there are potatoes, cherries, strawberries, tomatoes, peaches, and cauliflower.

Antonia is especially proud of the fancy colored corn she has grown. It's fun to open the ears and see what colors the kernels are!

Next to that are giant sunflowers. Above that are the pretty gourds and squashes.

On the bench are some lovely watermelons. And surrounding those are even more pumpkins and squash!

These, too, emerged in all sorts of different colors and shapes. Antonia lets the different varieties cross pollinate, so that the appearances of the resulting pumpkins are a surprise.

Thanks for stopping by! Here, take a sunflower home with you!

[nancypullen]

Halloween Eve

I haven't posted much about my excitement over Halloween. I figured everyone is sick of hearing me talk about it. But never, ever doubt that I'm counting the hours until the streets are filled with happy children, generous adults, and the pure magic that is All Hallow's Eve.

Our holiday here in Maryland looks different than it did in Tennessee. There, I'd decorate the yard and porch and my sweet friend Vicky would come over. We'd spend the evening laughing and handing out candy to kids. We did that together for twenty years. Here in Maryland the mister and I get to walk around the grandgirl's neighborhood with her, and let me tell you, it is fun. Her neighborhood does Halloween right, it reminds me of the Halloweens of my childhood. Hordes of children running house to house in costume, laughing, screaming from minor scares, and having the best time. Adults walk along behind, talking, laughing, and enjoying the fun. It's safe, it's wholesome, and it's absolutely delightful. I'm really excited about our Halloween! We've been watching Halloween shows together, so sharing the big night together is only right. She really enjoyed the dipped strawberry ghosties I made the last weekend.

Two things will make this Halloween fabulous - it's supposed to be chilly and we get to bring the grandgirl home with us. She's got no school on November 1st (smart school) and what better place to spend a free day than at Grancy's house? Autumn is really showing off around here and I couldn't love it more. No matter which window I pass in this house, I get a beautiful view of jewel tones.

Our bedroom...

the kitchen...

the grandgirl's room...

my craft room...

isn't it wonderful?

Of course, I brought in plenty of pumpkins and mums. They are CHEAP up here!

Geez, of course I left a milk jug on the porch when I snapped that photo. I'd just watered the mums, got distracted, and now it's part of history. This one is messy too - the shadow of my big head, leaves everywhere before they were raked up. I don't care, it just screams FALL!

Those big pots of mums? Most of them were four dollars. Some of them were just two dollars! There's a guy just down the road who grows them for commercial sales but he also lets locals purchase from him. Last Saturday he marked all of the four dollar mums down to two dollars so I went back for more!

These six pots were just $12 total! Those pink Sheffield mums will be planted in the front garden. They're gorgeous.

I replaced the summer impatiens with mums and now Sassafras Woods is dressed for the season.

Everywhere I go around town is a feast for the eyes.

Turning onto our little street is a treat, too.

And when I pull into our driveway, get out of the car, and look up...it's dazzling!

I just can't get enough. I believe Lucy Maud Montgomery gave Anne of Green Gables the best words for it.

The only thought that makes it possible to loosen my grip on October and autumn is the promise of a cold, snowy winter. Maryland doesn't necessarily promise that, but the Farmers' Almanac is giving me hope. Autumn is still my first love, but a frosty winter is some comfort while I mourn the end of all of this glorious color. Come on, Jack Frost, glitter my world!

But I'm getting ahead of myself, I can't worry about the winter forecast when my high holiday is just hours away. I can't wait to frolic with the kids and listen to their shouts of glee while they enjoy their big night. I'll wear my witch hat, a big fake witchy nose, and this sweatshirt.

Would you believe that I have a job interview in the morning? Yep, when I received the email inviting me for an in-person interview I was given a choice of two days and Halloween felt lucky. It may be hard for me to contain my excitement

Again, they should probably know who they're dealing with up front. I mean, I won't wear my witch hat or anything...yet. That's what's happening around the Pullen Patch right now. I'm trying to act normal while Halloween is just hours away, I get to spend it with my favorite little witch, and I'm trying to hold on to every last bit of the gorgeous color and fluttering leaves. I have nothing against November, but let's all admit that it represents the end of autumn and the start of a lot of work for women. I'm already tired from cooking Thanksgiving dinner and decorating the Christmas tree and I haven't started yet. The scariest thing you'll hear on Halloween is that Christmas is just 55 days away.

I've purchased four small gifts so far. I am way behind. Way behind. This may be the year everyone gets socks. Who doesn't like a nice, soft pair of socks? Gahhh, I'm old. Anyway, I hope that wherever you are you are cooking up some Halloween fun. If answering the door every five minutes and passing out candy isn't your style, I highly recommend popping popcorn and watching a favorite scary movie. Sleepy Hollow with Johnny Depp is one of my favorites. I also find joy in some of the good ol' Disney favorites like Halloweentown or The Worst Witch. Not scary, just fun. Whatever you're doing when the veil thins on Halloween night, I hope it makes your heart sing.

Sending out so much love on this beautiful fall evening. Stay safe, stay well, and have FUN! XOXO, Nancy

[anipgarden]

For the homies who haven't followed for a long time, why the quest for swampweed milkweek seeds?

So I’m currently at the library so if this answer is lame I may go into more detail once I get home but the long and the short of it is Swamp Milkweed Pretty Pink Color. Long version below.

Summer ~2015 (I think): volunteering at the zoo, making and selling seed bombs to raise money for conservation projects. Some Karen sasses at me for encouraging people to make butterfly gardens/plant butterfly friendly plants (??????) and basically says ‘You probably don’t even so how dare you imply I, a mother of 3, should.’ I take that as a challenge.

Fall and Winter 2015: start collecting seeds and stuff from whatever stores sold them cheap for a butterfly garden. Start learning about how important milkweed is for monarchs. Goal to obtain Any Milkweed is a go.

Spring 2016ish (I think): I find milkweed for sale at garden stores! This is Tropical Milkweed (Asclepias curassavica), and most of it is red and orange. While googling I find a Really Nice All Yellow Variety and my goal becomes Obtaining Yellow Milkweed.

Spring 2017ish: obtain yellow milkweed. At this point I have like 7ish tropical milkweed plants in my garden.

Spring either 2019 and 2020: at this point I have been growing milkweed and other flowers pollinators like for awhile when I learn that UH OH. Tropical Milkweed is invasive in my area! And I really shouldn’t be growing it! (One could argue the greenhouses in my area shouldn’t be selling it in the first place and I’d agree but I digress.) In my quest to figure out what species of milkweed ARENT invasive in my state—native, even—I find swamp milkweed and its the prettiest plant I’ve ever seen. Fuck yellow tropical milkweed, this plant is BRIGHT bright pink, beloved by caterpillars, beloved by pollinators, and smells like VANILLA? I want it now.

Thus begins the quest to grow it (and other species but mostly swamp milkweed) from seed. It never works out.

Spring 2020: accidentally steps on seedlings. Fatality.

Spring 2021: seeds were cold stratifying in the fridge but were left out of the fridge too long, sprouted in the bag for three days, and were weak as hell when I finally put them in. Forgot to water. Fatality.

Spring 2022: seeds are left in cups for way too long, forgot to water because Senior Project, cold stratification of next batch doesnt go well. Fatality.

Spring 2023: seeds mold while cold stratifying, germination rate is ‘one out of 21’ and then that one dies because I forget to water. Fatality.

During that whole while I’m thinking to myself ‘ok I suck at growing these from seed maybe they sell them in greenhouses and plant stores?’ And no they don’t. Until earlier this year when I finally find them being sold at native plant festivals (wherein which I arrive too late to my town’s once-yearly native plant festival and they’re sold out of milkweeds before the 30 minute mark of a 5 hour event YES I’m still mad about that) and other gardening festivals (shout out to the lady selling swamp milkweed at the zoo’s garden festival AND the honeybee festival) and ONE garden store near my friend’s house by the beach called Earthworks.

There are other milkweeds I am questing after now because there’s like 21-22 native milkweeds in Florida and my goal is to grow as many different varieties as possible (which is HARD because NO ONE SELLS THEM except for at this once a year plant sale and they don’t have enough to last THIRTY MINUTES YES IM STILL MAD). Currently I’ve also got my eyes set on sandhill milkweed (Asclepias humistrata) and Redring milkweed (whos latin name I don’t remember right now). Also trying to figure out why pictures of swamp milkweed are Bright Ass Vibrant Pink but all the ones I’ve gotten and that my garden server has are pale ass strawberry milk pink but yknow.

Since I’m trying to start a career in animation I’ll likely end up moving to Southern California sooner or later, and all my knowledge about swamp milkweed will be Fucking Useless. But worry not! I have another milkweed to obsess over that grows in Cali! Heartleaf Milkweed (which might be Asclepias cordifolia but I could be remembering that wrong) is GORGEOUS and it has the growth habit like Sandhill in a sense but the flowers are droopy and VELVETY PURPLE and the leaves are HEART SHAPED (kinda) so yknow. Vibes.

Anyways yeah thems the brakes pal.

[more-than-a-princess]

For @quickdeaths! (Shinobu and Anzu)

"I hope you like them!" Sonia beamed, placing the pink foil-covered box into Anzu Tachibana's hands. Inside the large tote bag were an array of red and pink round boxes, nearly all filled with identical heart-shaped chocolates. She'd caught up with Anzu just as she was exiting the Main Course building to give her the one tagged with her name. Each of the heart-shaped chocolates came in one of two varieties: milk chocolate with strawberry cream filling, or white chocolate with matcha and yuzu ganache filling. Sonia had thought it appropriate for her Japanese friends: three of each kind, with both seasonal and familiar flavors. "Happy Valentine's Day, Anzu-san. I remember you mentioning wanting to try real Novoselic chocolate! These are made by chocolatiers at home that have been bestowed with the Royal Seal, so it's almost like being in my homeland."

Sonia neglected to say that all of her tomo-choco hadn't been made for public sale, either. The giri-choco she'd handed out had been part of that year's official Valentine's Day collection that had been launched in Japan by several Novoselic chocolate companies, but the tomo she'd sampled and selected herself. For her friends, nothing produced to sell in shops was suitable.

"Do you know if-" She'd begun. What Sonia had intended to ask was if she knew where Shinobu was. Her tote bag had gotten mercifully lighter since that morning, and once she was able to dispense all of her chocolate, she'd be free to spend the rest of her day at leisure. It was different, to be sure, from the holiday back home: where luxurious presents, large floral bouquets of Novosonian roses, and elegant dinners were the norm. In Japan, it just seemed like everyone gave or exchanged chocolates and then went about their days. No matter: the Ultimate Princess had decided to take herself out, for shopping and a dinner that would put the ones at home to shame. She'd already brightened up her room with appropriate flowers and rose-scented candles the day before: it was a challenge not to get into the mood for a day of love. Even if, at present, the recipient of her affections was the Princess of Novoselic herself.

But she hadn't been given the chance. Not when a loud bang!, crash!, and splash! interrupted them, followed by screaming and shouting outside. "Shit, son of a bitch!" Sonia swore, thankfully in English. Several heads turned to look anyway, well aware of the words. She shook her head, reverting back to Japanese. "Do you think it's some sort of attack? Terrorists or something?" She asked Anzu, torn between fear and excitement. Japan didn't have nearly the same track record as other parts of the world, including Europe, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible. They'd have to find out on their own, Sonia taking the lead and pushing open one of the double doors.

Only to find a sea of black pleated skirts and blazers, with quite a few brown ones mixed in as well as colors and patterns from other schools. In the midst of all the wool and polyester, Sonia could make out a familiar red head of hair and, to Sonia at least, a terribly unamused expression. Shinobu wouldn't be the only one: several boys from both the main and reserve courses at Hope's Peak looked on, mostly annoyed or shocked and filming the entire ordeal on mobile phones. The girls had, seemingly, worked themselves up into a frenzy of who could give Shinobu Yaguchi their honmei-choco first. The sounds they'd heard had been from wastebaskets, benches, and statues overturning and shattering. Several girls now pushed and shoved each other, a few of which having ended up in the frigid fountain in the center of the courtyard.

To put it politely, it either looked like the aftermath of an idol concert or a war zone.

Sonia gulped. There were dozens, if not a hundred, and they all seemed to play by no particular rules: grabbed hair and arms, manicured nails eager to damage the competition all while flashing Shinobu the most saccharine of smiles or crocodile tears for their troubles. Mr. Sakakura, it seemed, would have his hands full to the point the school would likely need to call in backup.

"Maybe I will wait," She said slowly, setting the circular box covered in red foil back into the bag, the one that had been carefully tagged with Shinobu's name. It looked like all the other boxes, but that was where any similarities ended. It weighed far more, and for good reason: inside were a dozen dark chocolate skulls filled with espresso mascarpone cream with a hint of vanilla, arranged in a circle with a much larger chocolate in the center. Made of one of the darkest cacao blends she could request, inside the head of the chocolate eight-point stag was a mix of ancho chillies and ceylon cinnamon, blended into a red syrup that looked like fresh blood and tasted like liquid fire. The sweetness of the chocolate balanced out the spice of the filling, each working in perfect harmony, neither overpowering the other.

But she hadn't expected to have to fight her way to Shinobu Yaguchi's attention. It wasn't that she couldn't, but Sonia's feet remained planted on the pavement in front of the building. "I don't want to break a limb or end up in the fountain, especially this time of year. And I'm not even sure if Yaguchi-san likes sweets, I've never seen her eat them."

[thessalian]

Thess vs Outings

So when I said “I have my GP appointment on Tuesday” last week, I had to rethink that because I had a horrible feeling that I was somehow wrong and that the appointment was Monday. So I checked. I was wrong on both counts, but also sort of right? See, my appointment was not on Tuesday, which was the thing I was worried about. Buuuuuut it wasn’t on Monday either. Turns out it’s Wednesday, so tomorrow. Well, at least it wasn’t right after another heavily emotional D&D session. (Better emotional, though; just everybody gets keyed up when stuff happens, y’know. Investment is good.)

Another week off, and I swear I am going to space out my time off better in future. Then again, I said that last year too, and never managed. I’ll try harder this year - I get my PTO allotment in April so I’ll just book a whole bunch of stuff so I’m not in the same position of managers nagging me to get my PTO booked towards the end of the year. But still, week off yay, and it means that it didn’t really matter what day this week my GP appointment was.

Had to leave the house for some supplies - things for refrigerator dill pickles, dried milk for hot chocolate mix, pain meds - and had a little bit of luck in a few areas. It’s a sad thing when I get this excited over sales on what should frankly be fairly basic, but that’s the world today. Still, 3-for-2 offer on some of my favourite fruits, and steak on sale to the point where I could get a reasonably-sized ribeye for what I’d normally pay for the same amount of rump, is not to be sneezed at. I mean, I have pink lady apples! Those are basically the only ones I like to eat fresh these days! Also good-sized conference pears and some strawberries for the dehydrator. Woo!

Still, it did mean going out. I meant to go earlier in the day but kind of slept in (which is my right on a week off thank you), so I kind of got caught in the after-school crowd on the way home. Plus I’m not handling crowds as well as I used to, and Peckham is ... a lot, sometimes. Part of me really wants to head out to Camden if the nice weather holds (because it really is a gorgeous day today) ... but the rest of me is thinking about crowds plus that’s most of my work commute and what shape will I be in after, given the fibromyalgia? Well, I have to be up tomorrow because my phone appointment with the GP is at 10am, so maybe I’ll think about it. I mean, I guess I could also hit the West End for Orbital Comics and Orc’s Nest, but Camden crowds are one thing and West End crowds are something entirely else. So it’s all a matter of how one balances extra time on a bus vs bigger crowds.

I mean, this is all assuming I’m okay tomorrow, and with acceptance of the fact that I will probably not be okay for a day or so after. Just it’s nice to leave the house sometimes, and not just for a trek around Peckham for the basics. But for now, I accept that even a trip to Peckham and dealing with the after-school crowd was a bit much and I should relax some. Video games are a thing.

[sanjosenewshq]

Slideshow: New merchandise at NACS

LAS VEGAS — Cross class taste innovation is coming to comfort shops. Exhibitors highlighted a wide range of food-flavored drinks and beverage-flavored meals on the Nationwide Affiliation of Comfort Shops’ 2022 NACS Present, held Oct. 2-4 in Las Vegas. New drinks displayed at NACS draw inspiration from indulgent meals like popsicles and fruity desserts. Keurig Dr Pepper (KDP), Burlington, Mass., is remodeling two nostalgic treats into vitality drinks with ASHOC Swirl Pop and ASHOC Accelerator Rocket Pop. The drinks ship a dose of caffeine with flavors that resemble swirl pop candies and Rocket Pop frozen treats. The corporate additionally showcased Dr Pepper Strawberries and Cream. The most recent addition to the Dr Pepper lineup combines the soda’s acquainted taste with layers of strawberry and a clean, creamy end. The Coca-Cola Co., Atlanta, unveiled plans to introduce a brand new sweetener system throughout its vitaminwater zero sugar platform at NACS. The sweetener system will roll out in March alongside two new sugar-free merchandise: raspberry darkish chocolate and coconut lime. “Beforehand, vitaminwater zero sugar was sweetened with stevia, however now we’re going to be utilizing monk fruit and stevia for an improved style,” stated Carlton Austin, director of retail technique and commercialization at Coca-Cola. “The raspberry darkish chocolate has a delicate chocolate style and continues to be tremendous refreshing.” Constructing on the success of its Lady Scouts collaboration with Dunkin’, Coca-Cola will launch three flavors of ready-to-drink iced espresso subsequent spring. New additions to the corporate’s Dunkin’ Bakery Collection embody Brownie Batter Donut, Cake Batter Donut and Espresso Cake Muffin. The corporate is also bringing its UK-based Costa Espresso model into america. Two self-serve Costa Espresso machines have been on show at NACS alongside a line of ready-to-drink flat white coffees in signature mix, mocha and caramel flavors. The flat white coffees are espresso-based drinks with a skinny layer of steamed milk on prime. “This is likely one of the signature drinks from Costa’s retail espresso retailers,” stated Joe Gaines, director of US gross sales at Costa Espresso. “It’s a clean and foamy drink with a velvety texture. We predict it’s actually going to face out within the US, the place nobody else is doing flat whites but.” Fruit-forward lemonade flavors have been trending in new drinks, together with Sunkist Watermelon Lemonade and Xyience Strawberry Lemonade from KDP. Launching subsequent summer time from Coca-Cola is Sprite Lymonade Strawberry. The limited-edition twist on lemon-lime soda is infused with strawberries and a splash of lemonade. Lemonade flavors are also showing in new confectionery merchandise. The Hershey Co. is increasing its Jolly Ranchers Gummies lineup with new Lemonade Stand flavors, together with bitter cherry lemonade, bitter strawberry lemonade and bitter lime lemonade. New from Chicago-based Mars Inc. is Wrigley’s Additional Pink Lemonade. The limited-edition sugar-free gum launches in January and will probably be accessible by means of 2025. Mars is also leaning into beverage developments with M&M’s Caramel Chilly Brew, the model’s first everlasting coffee-flavored product. Extra espresso drinkers are exploring taste combos, with chilly brew rating as certainly one of Gen Z’s most bought drinks, stated Mike Gilroy, vice chairman of commerce growth at Mars. “All the pieces we do begins with a client obsession,” he stated. “So, we determined to faucet into the booming chilly brew espresso scene and pair it with caramel, a confectionery favourite.” View slideshow of latest merchandise. Originally published at San Jose News HQ

[sysig]

Even my blood is strawberry-scented

Charm Myr, probably

[kookieswan]

Shades of Us - Strawberry 🍓

Poly!Namgi x Reader (f)

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Poly, College!AU, Fluff, Humor (semi-crack), Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Frenemies to Lovers, Namjoon is a menace, Yoongi’s sleep deprived and scared, MC is still going with the flow.

Summary: Going out for a late night shopping trip, you didn’t expect to scare off old ladies or fight vacuums, but here you are with your two weirdo roommates.

Notes: The fourth part of SoU, time for some shopping! Hope you all enjoy it and sorry for the long wait!!!

Part of the Shades of Us Series!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m unsure if this is actually a good idea. Something tells me we might leave the store without much accomplished.” It had seemed like a good plan really. Go out together, get some food, make a night out of it. And you would still think that if Yoongi didn’t look like he was about to maul someone, Namjoon smiling with bags under his eyes. You don’t want to admit you feel just as tired as both of the men look.

“Everything is fine roomie! Yoongi’s excited, right?” You’re all currently walking toward the store from the car, Yoongi having graciously drove you over from the apartment. Yoongi blinks once, twice, before looking up at Namjoon with the most unenthused expression you’ve ever seen him make. His mouth morphs into a snarled smile before he speaks, words sarcastic and but lacking bite.

“Jumping with fucking joy as we speak.” It makes you snort, the doors to the store opening automatically in front of you. Checking your phone quickly, you see that its now 10:13PM, the perfect time to shop. Namjoon marches past the two of you, voice loud and excited as he pushes forward.

“See? Now let me grab a cart and we can get started!” He practically runs in, you and Yoon dragging your feet to meet up with him. He already has a cart read to go by the time you fully enter the store, eyes bright like a child in a cand store… which, you suppose he is at the moment. Shuffling over to Joon, you lean against the cart as he blinks down at you, looking slightly confused.

“Where did Yoongi go? He’s so teeny, he couldn’t have made it very far.” You’re about to say that he’s right behind you, but when you turn, it becomes pretty evident that no, he isn’t. Looking around, you don’t see him anywhere, so you just shrug and grunt. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself in the big scary store. The closest section to the entrance is the bakery, so you start to tug the cart that way, Namjoon diligently pushing it from behind you. Both of you nearly jump out of your skin as Yoongi comes nearly running out of a random isle, something small and pink clutched in his large hands.

“Where did you go…?” Glancing around him, you see that down the isle had some random items advertised for a sale. He holds up the bottle like its something special, a trophy he won as you and Namjoon stare at him questioningly. Its interesting how such an intimidating man can also look like the most adorable cutie in the world just by holding up some syrup.

“I want strawberry milk and there’s syrup on sale. It’s my favorite and if anyone touches it, I’ll eat them.” He gives a glare that’s supposed to look menacing, but he actually just looks adorable. Namjoon pokes his cheek as Yoongi attempts to swipe his hand away, and at this moment you’re very thankful that there aren’t many people around because its way to easy for these two to cause a scene.

“… That’s not the threat you think it is cutie pie.” Yoongi very pointedly ignores Namjoon, cheeks slowly heating up to resemble the pink syrup he tosses into the cart. You raise an eyebrow because what the hell, you want strawberry milk too. Maybe…

“Mmh, strawberry milk actually sounds yummy, I love strawberry.” Yoongi mutters out something about letting you have some, making you smile a small smile. Continuing to walk forward, you start to collect some of the items of food you need. Namjoon runs off this time, leaving you and Yoongi to go grab a loaf of bread and some dinner rolls. Het lets you pick out whatever you want, not caring much as Namjoon rounds the corner holding up a box with a big, dimpled smile.

“… What the fuck are those.” It’s becoming clear pretty clear that these two aren’t going to be much help when it comes to meal planning in the future if it’s not done beforehand, not unless you want twinkies covered in syrup. Joon waves the box around before tapping it lightly against Yoongi’s fluffy head.

“These, adorable dumpling man, are dingdongs and they are delicious.” Yoongi rips the box out of Namjoon’s hands, pausing to look at it for a second. The echo that comes forth from Yoongi smacking Namjoon’s chest with the box is surprisingly loud, loud enough that the old lady that had wandered into the isle stares at all of you in thinly veiled disgust.

“You’re a fucking dongdong.” Joon just smiles his pretty dimpled smile as you continue on your way, gathering things that you think you might need for meals. You grab most of the things in the produce section, vegetables and fruits and Yoongi continues to insist that he’s not picky, Namjoon just saying that hell eat anything but celery because fuck celery. Alright.

It’s not long before you’re wandering down the more central isles, picking up smaller ingredients that might be needed for certain dishes and avoiding any living person that isn’t Yoon or Joon. After grabbing a bag of rice, you find yourself and the boys in an isle filled with canned goods and quick meals mostly, but also sauces that could be used for different sorts of Italian dishes. Motioning for them to listen, you ask for their opinion about certain dishes.

“How do you feel about ravioli?” What can you say, you’re an absolute whore for anything involving pasta. Yoongi nods his head almost excitedly as Namjoon continues to stare at the different choices of pasta sauce, completely transfixed by the fact that there’s so many. His voice comes out so seriously, voice deadpan as he observes the red liquid.

“I fuck with Chef Boyardee.” So, Namjoon has choses violence it seems. Yoongi actually giggles at that, mostly surprised by the statement but also just as concerned as you are. Its at this point that you know he’s tired as hell if he’s giggling at Namjoon’s familiar but still odd antics.

“… And I fuck with you never saying something as horrid as that ever again in your life.” Joon sighs and looks between the two of you before gesturing to the sauce, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. He actually looks like he might be tearing up because of course, pasta sauce has that effect on everyone, right?

“Look, I can’t cook so I had to make do with what was given to me. Anything canned is usually fine, and I’ll admit that I’ve spent most of my college years eating just cereal or toast.” The thought makes you cringe, knowing very well from limited experience that Joon really can’t cook for shit. You’ll have to make him some decent meals, and you know that Yoongi will help you if you ask him nicely.

Grabbing some sauce, you gather a few other things in the isle before wandering out with they boys. You grab some snack items like chips, necessities like milk and butter, and then make your way to the frozen section to pick up some quick meals. Wandering by the ice cream and frozen snacks, Namjoon cheers excitedly as he flings the freezer door open and pulls out a large-ish box.

“A whole ice cream cake Namjoon? Really? I’m starting to become a tiny bit concerned about your eating habits buddy.” It’s quickly dawning on you that almost everything you’ve got outside of meal specific things has been questionable to an extent. But hey, at least it’s helping you figure out the kinds of food they like to eat, which mostly seems to be completely fucking random.

“It’s strawberry! Both of you tiny little things like strawberry, right sweetheart?” Nodding and very purposely not looking into Namjoon’s eyes, you watch as Yoongi begrudgingly nods as well. That’s all Namjoon needs to set the cake in the cart, pat your head, and then start up on his way again. A menace, he’s a damn menace and he doesn’t even know it.

The menace mentions something about wanting to grab some juice before you all leave, and so you allow him to run off again. You grab some soda for upcoming movie nights, not noticing that Yoongi has gone rigid beside you at first. Glancing over to him, you pause as he steps back a few paces, as something mechanical moves toward you.

“What the fuck is that?!” Its beeping, slowly moving toward you at a rate that isn’t even close to menacing. That doesn’t stop Yoongi from clutching your arm, trying to hide behind you as the machine gets closer. Its hard not to laugh at his actions, but you school yourself a squeeze his arm in return for some form of comfort. You try your best to explain it to him, making sound non-threatening.

“… It’s an automatic vacuum. Like a rumba but bigger I think.” You’ve seen them here before, but most of the time they’re usually turned off or not moving toward you. It’s a little uncanny you suppose, something new and completely unfamiliar moving toward you. However, you can’t say that you’re scared of it quite like Yoongi seems to be.

“And I fucking hate it with every fiber of my being. It’s creeping me the fuck out, like what the fuck-” Namjoon’s rounding the corner as the words leave Yoongi’s lips, multiple bottles of juice balanced in his large arms. He runs into the oversized vacuum, not having noticed it, nearly knocking the damn thing over with his enormous body. The blush that washes over his cheeks is cute, mumbling out small ‘sorrys’ to the thing like it actually has feelings or something.

“So uh, I think were all good to check out guys! Heh…” Namjoon sets the juice in the back of the cart, rubbing his head a s Yoongi continues to stare at him with an unreadable expression. Maybe he’s blown away that Namjoon saved him from the scary vacuum monster. They both really need to stop being so endearing.

Yoongi grabs the cart and quickly pushes it past the machine, nearly running to get the fuck out of the isle. You and Joon trail behind him, Joon rubbing his arm in the place that he bumped into the dumb thing. Not being able to stop yourself, you poke at it and he pouts, flicking your finger away as you giggle. Yoongi pushes the cart into self-checkout lane, and you all work together to quickly get everything scanned. It was agreed on earlier that you’d all toss some money together for the groceries as it would be easier then trying to figure things out separately.

“Look at that! We spent a little under our budget. Good job picking stuff out guys.” It’s a little troubling to you, just how handsome Namjoon looks to you right now. Big smile, messy hair, glasses perched on his pretty nose. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Yoongi was feeling the same thing, eyes slightly widened as he glances at the taller man, looking just as handsome Clearing your throat, you start pushing the cart toward the door.

“We all set to head home then? I think we got everything we need for now. If not, we can just go out again sometime this week and get what we need.” You agree that everything’s good to go, glad that the long day is over, but also glad that you got to spend some time with the guys. Its amazing to you how well you get along with both of them and living together is looking to be one of the greatest decisions you’ve made.

“Yes, because I’m fucking exhausted and plan on sleeping for at least a year.” Poor Yoongi’s dragging his feet beside you, practically sleepwalking as he stumbles. He doesn’t even flinch as Namjoon slides an arm around his shoulder, gently pulling the smaller man along toward the car with a fond smile. You’re all overly tired at this point and getting some nice sleep sounds like the best thing in the world right now.

“Alright, I’ll drive then cutie. You two help me get everything loaded in and then rest up and I’ll have us home in no time.”

[hanibalistic]

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

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

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

word count | 32k+

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

tag | @fluffyskzclub​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You habitually waited for the princess to speak first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asked, shrugging.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you said, nodding at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Princess Rose, with love.

A love letter, but from who?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh–good evening, Your Highness.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah… is it Chan?” Hyunjin asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I wasn’t really–“

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

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

“It’s [Na]–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love letter delivery!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that…” Minho giggled nervously.

He wrote no such thing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Is the cake bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a tie bound to break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You switched my letter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hard part, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you care to elaborate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minho–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Write the love letter with me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened today?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A father, yes, but certainly not a dad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You threw the spoon at him, in which he blocked with one arm held up to his face. His laughter only increased while your coughs slowed down to a gentle trail, and he got off the stool so he could pour you a small cup of water. You quickly snatched the cup away from him, dunking down the liquid and sighing dramatically when you were finished.

You slammed the cup down on the table then, your head turning sharply to him as your eyes glazed over with an irritated burn. “I could have died.”

“But you didn’t.” Changbin shrugged. “I told you to eat with your mouth closed.”

“There is no correlation to me choking on food and me eating with my mouth closed,” you retorted as you jumped off the chair and went to grab yourself an extra spoon. “I can still choke on food even if I’m eating properly.”

“Really? Care to show me?”

You dropped the spoon in the bowl and smiled up at him. “I’m going to kill you.”

“You can do that after you finish the food,” he said, pointing at your bowl. “Come on, it shouldn’t be taking you this long to finish eating a small bowl of fried rice.”

“If you wanna go sleep, you can just leave,” you mentioned, giving him a light-hearted shrug to further prove the point that you didn’t really care much for company at the moment.

“And have you use it against me later? No thanks, you’re gonna say I left you alone in the kitchen or something,” he grumbled, leaning his head against his hand and scoffing.

You didn’t say anything this time as you’ve got food in your mouth, and you’d rather not repeat that embarrassing, hazardous incident once more. But you did roll your eyes at him, indirectly telling Changbin that he was being dramatic and that you would never do such a terrible thing.

(Except you would, and he knew that you would.)

The kitchen was rendered silent again. The only sound resonating across each corner was the faint noise of your teeth clicking against the wooden spoon and your occasional chewing noise. Changbin looked at you again, his gentle eyes grazing past your cheeks and your small hands. His mind flew back to his home, but he doesn’t really see the faces he used to see anymore. 

Like kin, even though he knew you’re not his child–

He felt fine staying in the palace. And he was fine with taking care of you here.

–well, you were damn well the closest thing he has to one. 

Chan could see you racing towards him from faraway. Trailing slowly behind you was Changbin, his hands holding onto two filled water buckets. 

He kept his eyes on the mailman despite your speedy approach, his polite smile never fading as he patiently waited for the old man to take out all the letters—the ones addressed to the palace from the citizens—from his big, dirty pouch bag. He was the third of the many town mailman that would come by today with complaints or family letters, and Chan could recognize him well to the the mailman from your town.

He sure hoped there was something of your interest in that god forsaken bag today. More specially a family letter, one which you have been waiting for since the past two months.

“That is all for today. There is quite a lot to go through, I’m afraid.” The mailman’s hoarse voice gave Chan a gentle stung, it reminded him of his old man back home who had passed away without a last goodbye. He didn’t even realize the weight on his hands until he looked down to find his once empty basket to now be filled with envelopes. 

“Thankfully, I only sort the letters,” Chan joked lightheartedly as he bowed to the mailman. “Court business is completely out of my field of specialty.”

“Well then, my regards to the crown prince,” the mailman said, dipping his hat with an old and trembling hand. “He is going to have to deal with an entire kingdom soon, and I sure do hope he will become a good king.”

Chan only flashed the mailman a purse-lipped smile. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to insinuate, and he had not the faintest idea whether the king and the palace council were doing a splendid job in running the kingdom. While they seemed to be satisfying the rich and the royal, he could not tell if they were also minding to the average and the poor.

He was only a butler. He has lived in the palace and enjoyed as much luxury his job status could give him for a long while. Whatever goes on outside the palace life, he wouldn’t know and neither would have the time to sit down and chat about it.

“I shall see you next week again, sir,” he replied with a polite bow. “Thank you for your delivery, once again.”

“Of course,” the mailman said, a hint of laughter evident in his voice. “There isn’t much clumsy old me can do but send some letters these days. Gives me something to do after my wife passed away, and I like seeing you kids run around working sometimes.”

Chan wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he smiled and he waited for the mailman to take his leave. He listened for the creaking of the folding step, the gentle whipping of a horse’s back, and finally the stuttering movement of those round wheels bringing the mailman back on its path to the palace gate. 

His eyes trailed after the envelopes in the basket; another batch he has to go through so he could separate the complaint letters from the family mails sent to the staffs (royal letters are sent by designated palace messengers, not mailmen). The silver seals all sat prettily, some unevenly, on top of the white papers, and Chan could not help but admire them for a while.

That was, until your loud voice rang through his ears.

“Chan! Chan! Bang Chan!”

You bratty kid, why were you calling him by his full name again?

Calculating his timing just right, the second he stood up from his bowing position, he stretched his arm out before his chest and turned to the side. Your springing legs were forced to a quick stop as his the heel of his palm met your forehead, and you stumbled back when he lightly shoved at your head for you to back off.

“[Name], what did I say about addressing me by my full name?” He asked, exhausted from all the nagging you never listened to. “And you have to yell it this time? What if the king hears it? Do you understand how awkward it would be for me to have to explain the commotion to him?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed and completely uninterested in what he has to lecture you about palace manners. Changbin has done a great deal of that already, not that any of his warnings has helped in any way. “Oh, whatever, the king is old! He’s probably going deaf at this point!”

“[Name]!”

“No point talking to them, Chan. This kid never listens.” Changbin’s gruff voice appeared from behind you. He set down his water buckets, the ones the maid asked him to fill up using the water pump from outside the front yard, and he quickly whacked you across the head. 

Ignoring your whines of curses, he looked at Chan dead in the eye then, something of a veteran father whose dealt with his child’s antics for too long and has become immune to them. “You gotta smack them.” 

Chan widened his eyes. You seemed more agitated than before, your eyes glaring daggers and impossible profanity spilling out of your lips like a mantra. He met eyes with Changbin, who ignored you completely with a smile. The disbelief in Chan’s eyes almost made him laugh; Chan has only ever met you under the warm and comfortable atmosphere of the palace, of course he wouldn’t expect you to be such a vulgar child.

“For the record, I didn’t teach them this,” Changbin mentioned as he pointed at you, and you smacked his hand away with an annoyed groan. “Weeks of scraping cow shit at the barn taught them this, which, for the record–“ he turned to look at you before shifting his attention back to Chan,“–you should probably keep chef Park in check.”

Chan raised a brow, curious to the reason why Changbin felt the need to lower his voice, and to why he was asked to keep an eye out of chef Park. He knew almost every staff working in the palace; perhaps not in detail for every single one of them, but he remembered their names and their families. Chef Park has never come across as trouble to him before, he wondered why.

“I will,” he said dubiously, but he kept the thought in mind.

“Good.” Changbin flashed him a nod, and then he sighed. He reached down to lift up the water buckets again, a huff leaving his lips. “I’m gonna head back and hand these to the maids. I’ll meet you back in the kitchen, okay?”

You gave him a brief nod and an annoyed grumble, still quite mad that he decided to smack you across the head. Changbin scoffed out a faint smile before he turned away, leaving you to talk to Chan about what you needed to ask him for. Chan spared a short glance at Changbin’s back before he turned his attention back to you, his brows furrowing.

“Where did you two come from?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

You shrugged. “Outside the palace gate where the water pumps are.”

“And that’s a two person job?” 

“Well, it… was…” you sheepishly twisted your feet against the ground, your fingers finding each other before your abdomen. A childish smile slowly graced your face and you looked to Chan hesitantly. “But then I got tired holding the bucket so–“

“You made Changbin hold them for you,” Chan muttered with a deadpan manner. 

“Technically speaking, I didn’t make him do it,” you defended confidently, speaking in a factual tone. “I kept whining about how much my arms were hurting and then he decided to take my bucket to shut me up.”

He sighed then, his eyes rolling to the side as his head shook. Not in disbelief, that was something Changbin would totally do for you. It was in defeat in the wake that there was probably no winning for him in any sorts of situation. 

“He should have smacked your head and told you to carry it yourself,” Chan commented. 

“This is why I don’t like you that much,” you confessed, both honestly and as a joke.

“Oh sure, you don’t,” he announced to himself, his voice holding a hint of magnificence in them as if he was mocking his opponent in an argument. Shaking the basket in his hands, Chan glanced down at it with a smile before he looked back up at you. “I guess none of these letters are of any importance to you as well?”

“Hey, I didn’t say that!” You exclaimed as you leaned down to push at the edge of the basket until it hit the floor. Standing back up straight, you gave Chan a faint smile before you said, “I just want to see if my mom sent me a letter, since she hasn’t sent one in a long time.”

Chan hummed in thought, his eyes rolling skyward as he recalled the past months. He did remember handing you letters from your parents for a time period. It started with thick envelopes that would be delivered weekly, then as time passed by the letters became thinner with more time spaced out in between each reply. He couldn’t remember when you stopped receiving them, but he knew at some point, the reply stopped.

“I mean, I guess it was kind of my fault for not writing to my mom for almost a whole month once,” you mumbled to yourself, rubbing your hands together. “But that was a busy month for us. You would remember, right, when the duchess came to visit and we had a royal ball!”

That was the first time you were given the opportunity to make a plate of dessert on your own. Chef Park probably hated the idea of letting you in charge of a full plate of dessert, but the kitchen had needed to prepare a long table full of snacks for the ball, and there had not been enough pastry chefs to go around.

You had been instructed to make some sugary cookies for the ball, but with you being you, instead of making a boring plate of common dessert, you have decided to make honey jasmine macaroons instead. Not that sugary cookies are bad, but you would much love to bake something that could match the bubbly, extravagant atmosphere of a royal ball. 

Long story short, your plate of macaroons was licked clean by the guests, but chef Park hadn’t factored that into consideration and simply scolded you for disobeying him. Sometimes you would like to think that he was simply being envious of your ability, hence the reason why he didn’t tell anybody about the people liking your macaroons.

After that day, you haven’t been able to bake for the royals on your own until the rosewater cream puffs.

“Oh, yeah, I do remember,” Chan said, nodding. “Did you stop writing to your mother after that?”

“Well, I stopped writing during the time the duchess was living here,” you replied, calculating the timeline in your head. “But after that month, it took me longer to bounce back to writing a letter, so I think it was a little more than a month. I did write her a letter eventually, but I haven’t heard anything from her after that letter.”

He hummed thoughtfully, understanding your situation but not being able to explain to you why you haven’t received a reply letter yet, because he had no idea either. The only thing he could do was to make suggestions, some kind of excuse like your letter getting lost or your mother being too busy with the flower shop. Or, even better, he could try and look through the new basket of letter and see if your mother had sent you one back.

Looking down at the basket, a frown slowly made its way to Chan’s face as his mind processed just how many letters were in the basket. It would take a long while for him to shift through all of them just to separate the letters for the court and those for the staffs. Then he would have to find the letter sent by your mother specifically before he could hand it to you.

He was still in the middle of going through the first basket, a process he would hope not to interrupt. He wouldn’t want to mess up the areas from which the letters came from, considering how the court solve the complaints from one town to another instead of doing so altogether. Therefore, just to eyeball how long it would take him to find out if there is a letter for you, it would take at least an hour.

“Well, I will make sure to keep an eye out for your letter,” he said, glancing back up at you.

“What–can’t I get it now?” You whined. 

“Are you going to look through the whole pile now?” He asked, holding the basket up to you. “Because there are a lot of letters. You might accidentally skip through yours if you rummage through it, so it’s better to wait for me to pick them out and divide them first.”

You grumbled under your breath impatiently, your lips pursing into a hard line as your brows furrowed childishly. “Ahh, but how long is that going to take? I wanna know if my mom wrote me something so I won’t have to think about it!”

“I know, but I still have other work to do around the palace and this isn’t my only basket,” Chan said, his voice low in a coaxing way. 

And he knew you understood how busy it could get for him around the palace. The unsatisfied expression that lingered on your face was just there for you to vent, it didn’t particularly mean anything and he didn’t have to take it to heart. Except he always does, not severely but having to see you get let down weekly for the past months has made him grow susceptible to your angsty features.

Softening, Chan let go on one side of the basket and he pinched your cheek gently. “I’m sorry, but I promise I will try and get through it all as fast as I can,” he told you, with all the sincerity in his voice. 

“Hmm… Fine.” You pursed your lips together with a nod, leaning your face away from his hand. “I have to go back to work now, I’ll see you later.”

“You can count on it,” he said, his hand reaching back down to pick up the basket handle.

Flashing him a small smile, your legs brought you a few steps backward before you finally turned around and headed to the backyard. Your steps picked up, and Chan watched your back fade until you disappeared into the discreet corner of the palace. He looked down at the basket of letters then, his forehead creasing in a moment of thought.

Please be in there. He hoped. Please let your mother’s letter be in there.

You had planned to head straight back into the kitchen, but the sight of Changbin chatting with the maids by the laundry poles made you stop. With amusement, you found a spot under the shade of the old tree and you watched on, finding immense fascination in seeing the way he discreetly—almost discreetly—flirted back with the young maids. 

Perhaps it was you who never paid enough attention. Granted, you didn’t get to see much of Changbin interacting with other people. Whenever you were present in the picture, he was always too busy trying to keep you in check, he’s got no time to really speak with others. It was a peculiar sight, one that you planned to tease him about when he decided to leave the backyard and head back to the kitchen soon.

As you turned, preparing to flee before he could see you looking with awful, stupid intentions, a hand tapped at your shoulder and you spun around. The smile that welcomed you was familiar, you just saw it this morning when you woke up, and you quickly returned it as Felix waved excitedly at you.

“Hey, Lix,” you greeted as you eyed him up and down, your brows slowly furrowing at the dirt stained on his cheeks. His shirt was wrinkled, which you didn’t notice this morning but you were sure it hadn’t been as bad as it looked now. “What have you been doing?”

“We went out to the forest to gather more woods for the next few weeks,” he replied after heaving a sigh, exhausted from all the labor work he’d done all morning. “The court prophet said something about a thunderstorm coming so we were asked to fetch more wood for fire, since we won’t be able to head out if the storm actually hits.”

“A thunderstorm,” you snorted, your eyes widening a fraction at such an absurd idea. Whatever would happen to the weather in the middle of a hot summer, a thunderstorm was the last thing you would have predicted. “I wonder why. The North star clashed against the moon, perhaps?”

“Oh, [Name], you know I’m not one for analysing the stars,” Felix laughed out, rubbing his rough hands together and reaching a hand up to swipe at his face. “But I don’t mind a thunderstorm, I won’t have to head outside for duty for once. You, though–“

“I’m not afraid of storms,” you cut him off quickly with a roll of your eyes. 

You knew he would bring that night up. The thunderstorm approached during the middle of the night, when the palace has become quiet and empty. It was loud, and since the dormitory part of the palace was built differently—with lesser care, one could say—it made everything sound like they entered an echo chamber.

You weren’t terrified, but being away from the comfort of your own home and stuck sleeping on a foreign bed was nightmarish enough for you to be afraid of it that roaring night. Felix had awakened with the sound of whimpers, and he happily stayed up with you that night. 

“The echos of the palace walls simply scared me too much last time, but I promise you I am not afraid of a little storm.” You said, slightly annoyed. 

Felix could only laugh, his hand still furiously wiping at his cheek because he had no idea of knowing if he had gotten rid of the dirt. “Well, we’ll see when another one strikes us within these weeks,” he said.

“You will find your accusation incorrect,” you said as you reached up to swat his hand away. A frown adorned your face as you gently scrubbed off the black dirt on his freckled cheeks, a click of your tongue displaying your annoyance. “And for the love of god, bring a wet towel with you at all times.”

“But they’re heavy.”

“They’re clean and cool,” you said. “Good for wiping your face and good for the hot weather.”

Felix hummed in doubt, unsure if he was fully convinced to take an extra object with him to finish his duty. He didn’t much like the idea of having wet trails down his back, especially when he would be draping the towel over his shoulders instead of holding onto it. So he retorted with something that made you both frown and laugh.

It was an endearing frown, perhaps due to the laughter Hyunjin could almost hear from the other side of the yard where the grass field was. It was a spot far from where the chores were, but not far enough for the workings to be invisible to the eye. He and Minho sat under the tree, the shade covering most of their body besides their feet that poked out from the shadow.  

Minho wanted to find a place to sit down and write his second love letter to Princess Rose, but when Hyunjin suggested for a trip to the garden, Minho only grimaced about the dullness of it. It was always the garden. He wanted somewhere else, a new place where he could get inspirations from. 

Hyunjin wasn’t very sure what Minho thought could be inspiring about watching the palace staffs run around washing clothes and transporting woods, but alas, Minho sat down under the large tree and began tapping his pen on the parchment paper. He followed suit without much complaints. It wasn’t like he’s got anything better to do around the palace anyway. It was either he leave for his home, or he stays here and follows Minho around. 

The letter Minho was writing has been blank for a while. He kept pressing the tip of his pen against it but never actually scribbled anything down. His mind short-circuits every time he is about to write something; just when he thinks his brain had thought of something worth-while, his heart tells him to hesitate.

Hyunjin was done persuading him that the letter would be nothing more than a mere draft, that he need not hold any fear. Pretend it like a diary and simply let his feelings flow, Hyunjin told Minho, but the advice was not taken with each huffs of heavy sigh leaving the prince’s mouth. And Hyunjin was quite tired of trying to rid Minho of his anxiety, so what he did was that he turned away from his frowning cousin.

The sight that welcomed him was you, almost immediately within the crowd of similarly dressed palace staffs. And he was happy to see you. You stood under the shade in your natural glory, as always, and you were grinning towards a direction Hyunjin couldn’t bother to tear his gaze away to check. 

He was debating if he wanted to pull you out of work once again, just so he could spend some time to talk to you. He has the power to do that, and if he doesn’t then Minho certainly does. But whatever excuse was he supposed to give to get you out of the kitchen? He didn’t want to come off annoying. He was also too shy to drop hints that might indicate his fondness toward you.

He could think about something work related! Perhaps another dessert that he wanted to eat? He was very fond of those cream puffs you made, he would love to try out the other desserts. 

The dreamy smile on his face was permanent for a long while until Felix showed up. His smile gradually faded as his eyes watched your friendly interaction, and his plump lips pursed into a thin line as a bitter taste dropped at the tip of his tongue.

Annoyed, and definitely jealous. Annoyed because he couldn’t blame Felix for being friends with you and he couldn’t blame you two for being close friends, jealous because, well, obviously because he has a majorly, royally problematic crush on you. 

“Hey! Lover boy!” 

Hyunjin slowly looked to his side. The nickname Minho just playfully gave him not settling on his good side whatsoever. He needn’t be reminded of how terrible his crush on you was going; not to mention he barely had any chance to begin with. His royal status was a screw-up from the moment he laid his eyes on you.

Minho stared at his cousin for a short while before he breathed out a defeated sigh. He had pretended to not notice Hyunjin’s infatuation for a long time. It all started with his unusually frequent visits to the palace; something Minho deemed solely because Hyunjin and his parents’ relationship was never the best. But things changed when he realized how observant he has become.

Hyunjin wouldn’t spare the palace halls another glance, so when he started to look around the corners as if searching for something, or someone, Minho’s suspicion started to raise as well. He didn’t know when he concluded that Hyunjin has fallen for somebody in the palace, he just knew he did. And it was only recently when he finally found out who the token staff was.

Those rosewater cream puffs really caught the boy by the throat. 

“You like [Name],” Minho pointed out boldly.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and scoffed. He leaned his elbow on the knee of his crossed legs, putting his chin on top of his palm as he stared ahead at you. His mood went even more sour when he watched Changbin ruffle the both of your heads. 

Jeez, make it look more like a family, why wouldn’t you? The scene looking exactly like you three were having the “Oh, hey, I brought my boyfriend home!” kind of conversation—ugh! He could shiver in annoyance just from thinking about it. 

Hyunjin looked away from you, a huff brushing past his lips strongly as he spoke, “This pisses me off!”

“What pisses you off?” 

“This! This stupid, invisible crown on my head!” He gestured towards his hair, his finger going in a circular motion. Then he shifted down to complain about his silky clothes, and his gold belt, and his cotton socks matched with leather shoes. He hated all of it, anything that labeled him as a prince he despised. 

“Would you rather walk around in thin rags then?” Minho shrugged, smiling in amusement. His attention was focused on the letter in his hand. When he scribbled something down, he held it up to Hyunjin’s hand to stop him from replying. “What do you think about this?”

Hyunjin yelped, swatting Minho’s hand away before snatching the paper from his hand. He carefully glanced at the paper, rereading the sentence his cousin wrote at least three times before he grimaced with an honest answer. “Good, but change the structure, it doesn’t sound eloquent enough.” 

“I was thinking maybe I can express the insanity I feel through incoherent sentence structures,” Minho hummed, receiving the letter just as Hyunjin huffed out a disapproving grunt.

“You’re not the person to pull that off,” Hyunjin commented.

“I’m not,” Minho dragged out in acceptance, running the pencil across the sentence before he placed the paper back on his knee. He twirled the pencil between his fingers, his brows furrowed, then he jumped back on the original topic. “You know the materials they wear can’t keep you warm during winter, right?”

“They can’t–they can’t?” Hyunjin borderline yelled, the panic slightly bubbled up his head. He glared at Minho, his brows furrowed in concern. “Hello–what if they get sick? Do you guys at least distribute extra duvets?”

Minho didn’t answer his question. The sheer fact that Hyunjin has the capability to care and to question the treatment palace staffs receives was startling enough for him. It was not to say Hyunjin would be so heartless not to care about other people, he was a boy with a kind soul, but he also was not brought up to think too deeply about people unlike him. 

He would give sympathy to those less fortunate than him, but his mind wouldn’t register the option the help if he wasn’t there to witness the problem himself. 

“You know how much of a problem it is for you to like them, right?” Minho spoke, turning to look at the working maids. His eyes were careful as he scanned past them all, his head unable to name a single one of them but still could recognize a few faces he has seen multiple times before. “You and [Name]. It’s not an easy match. The royal court won’t allow this.”

Hyunjin pursed his lips together. His chest was burning at the truth, hating it with all the might his lean body could muster. “They don’t have to allow it. I doubt [Name] will develop any feelings for me anyway.”

“Oh? That’s an interesting view,” Minho said, widening his eyes at the letter. “Why so?”

Hyunjin sat in silence for a moment, his mind working to think up a reason. It was all tangled in his head; there wasn’t just one reason, there were plenty, as much as he hated to admit it. He didn’t know where he should start. Should he start from problems steaming from him, or problems steaming from everybody around you?

Just to name a few right off the bat: your statuses were different, he was born with royal blood while you were born as a commoner. Not only would royalties from all the neighbouring kingdoms give him the sting eye for falling in love with someone much lower than him, his parents and his relatives likely won’t allow it as well. 

His bloodline was a huge, painful problem; an unbreaking stick in all of his relationships, platonic or romantic.

Now, setting his royal status aside, who was to say that you’d fall in love with him? Hyunjin knew he was good-looking since everyone around him told him that ever since growing up, and he’d like to believe he’s got enough charisma to charm the other equally rich, if not richer, marriage candidates from other kingdoms. But nobody has ever talked of his personality before.

Long story short, Hyunjin hasn’t done anything outstanding as a mere prince. Every charitable accomplishments were credited back to the king, as it should be because the king (and his council) regulates everything. He has taken no part in political or social management of his kingdom even though he was born as the crown prince. 

What if he wasn’t good enough? How would he know if his personality was the type that would make people fall in love with him? He wouldn’t be able to tell. Even in royal marriage, almost everything was arranged or based on economic measures. Royalties don’t like each other for who they are, he learned that the hard way. And no one has ever told him he’s got a killer personality, at least not genuinely, he supposed.

You have told him he was charming, but you didn’t know him. He might not be somebody you would want to have around. 

“I barely spend time with them,” Hyunjin replied casually after the spacious, panicking round of overthinking in his head. He licked his lower lip, discarded the thoughts in his head, and he picked himself up. “You can’t fall in love with people you’ve never spend time with. I would want to get to know the person more and more, just have them reveal everything to me as time goes.”

Because wouldn’t that be so nice? To reveal yourself to someone who’s willing to stay. 

“Well, aren’t you a romantic,” Minho grinned out, finding amusement in the way Hyunjin seemed to be turning into some sappy, all knowing lover of the century just because he, too, has fallen in love with somebody. 

And Hyunjin was always rolling his eyes and scoffing at Minho for being overdramatic about everything regarding the princess—the audacity. 

Hyunjin could only scoff. The laugh he let out was sardonic at best because he didn’t know what other reaction he could have. How does one properly display defeat? Through what kind of expression could he use to show that he felt stupid for still letting himself fall even though he knew that the relationship would end in nothing, just nothing. 

But it wasn’t like he had a choice. Hyunjin’s heart has always done what it wanted to do; if it wanted to fall in love, it would do so disregarding all types of circumstances. He was a boy who’s got his heart thrusted out for everyone, full and beating. He couldn’t change it, he just fell for you. 

Hearing the lack of response from him, Minho turned away from the love letter in his hands and he glanced at Hyunjin briefly. There was this dazed look on his face, a blank but remorsefully thoughtful look. He could tell Hyunjin was beating himself up over liking a palace staff, one who didn’t even serve his own kingdom too!

Sympathy surfaced in Minho’s chest. He wondered how that felt. He wondered how it was like to fall in love with someone so blatantly out of your reach, someone who was accustomed to putting up a wall between yourselves due to the status quo, someone who your family and your subjects wouldn’t approve.

Minho wondered how it felt to fall in love with someone who could’t reciprocate the feeling for so many reasons, and despite all the power the crown holds, there is still nothing to be done.

It must be exhausting. 

“I’ll support you two.” 

Putting the paper and pen down to indicate that this would turn into a rather serious conversation. He sat up, crossed-legged with a confident smile as he watched you vanished into the palace with Changbin. Minho knew, subconsciously, that he still held certain ill-feeling towards what you’ve done to his love letter, albeit if was for his own sake. And he has to admit, he has known you for no more than a long, embarrassing conversation of you lecturing him about the topic of love.

But he was so sure, somehow, that you are definitely no so bad of a love interest for Hyunjin. 

“What?” Hyunjin asked, staring at Minho with wide eyes.

Minho turned to him, the grinning softening on his face. “I said I’ll support you two. When I become king one day and I’m in power, I’ll publicly display my encouragement for you, seeing that you do successfully woo the brat in the future." 

Hyunjin physically brightened at his words, finding solace in knowing that while knowing his romantic goals might be far-fetched, Minho stood with him instead of going against his wishes. It was nice to be able to get it all off his chest; having to hide that he was in love with a kitchen staff around the palace with watchful eyes and soundless walls was terrible. He’d hate to have the news spread all over the place.

Bringing his legs up to his chest, Hyunjin smiled ahead of him, watching the maids move around with laundries baskets in their hands. He scanned their faces, none of them able to reach your level of gracefulness when you walked and the brightness of your smile as you talked to others.

“I want to be able to fall in love with who I want to,” he said with a faint smile. “I want to be able to fall in love with [Name].”

Minho hummed, “You can. Didn’t you already?”

Hyunjin felt a sickening rush of affection consume his veins, the thought of you fulfilling his head. The butterfly, the cream puffs, the single leaf on his hair. His smile widened; Minho was right, he already did.

[ceilingfan5]

[id: a pink cow on a pink milk carton labeled whole strawberry milk]

I have a teepublic now!! you can get my designs on basically anything and I'll get a little cut of the price! there's even a big sale on right now! ill even take requests to put on there as new designs. lmk!

[bloomingjungwon]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: drunked-dazed was in my opinion one of the best first comeback's i have seen, and that says a lot since i've been a kpop stan for more than a decade. not for sale is my favorite track!! congrats enha for a succesful first comeback!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park sunghoon x gn!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of food

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: pure fluff

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟐 𝐚.𝐦. ▸ to say strawberry flavored things were your favorite was an understatement. anything strawberry flavored didn't go far enough to make your day, but to make your whole week better.

once in a blue moon, your school's cafeteria would replace it's boring regular 2% milk with delicious strawberry milk. the pink and white carton was enough to put a bright smile on your face. grabbing two cartons, you headed back to class to indulge in one of your favorite beverages.

you took your seat, your smile still plastered on your face, only to realize sunghoon was in his seat next to yours. "why are you smiling to yourself? it's kind of creepy." he grumbled. "the cafeteria has strawberry milk today. it's my favorite." you replied.

he continued to stare at you as you scanned your homework while sipping on your strawberry milk. "you're doing that staring thing again" you said, as you can see him from your peripheral vision.

flustered, he looked away and sat up straight. "no i wasn't." you chuckled, and turned to him. "here, take this. i took two anyway." you said, offering him your spare carton. he accepted it silently, giving you a nod as a form of saying thank you.

the following day, you decided to skip lunch to study for your next class' exam. class empty, you were surrounded by silence and your own papers. flooded in your own thoughts of formulas and theories, you didn't notice a figure standing in front of you, until you saw a hand place something on your desk.

a carton of strawberry milk. your eyes followed up the arm that placed it to find sunghoon. scratching the back of his neck and refusing to make eye contact with you, he said "the cafeteria had strawberry milk again. i didn't see you leave the classroom so i thought you'd be sad knowing you'd miss out on strawberry milk two days in a row."

"oh, thank you hoon." blushing from the nickname, he nodded and began to walk away. "good luck on your exam." he said as he walked out.

you sat back, free from your thoughts of studying, as your head was now filled with thoughts of how sunghoon was as sweet as strawberry milk.

[official-impravidus]

Shovel Talk

Dick hasn’t seen Roy in forever. The two have fallen out over the years as they’ve found their own places in the vigilante world, but Dick misses him! It’s been too long.

So, with a carton of Roy’s favorite Chinese takeout, a six pack of cheap, shitty beer, a box of cheaper, even shittier Valentine’s day chocolates that were on sale at the grocery store that Dick hopes Roy still splurges on, and a new Barbie for Lian, he approaches his door with anxiety practically radiating off of him.

He knocks on the door, but there’s no response. 

Dick frowns in confusion. It’s a Thursday evening on a school night. Lian would usually be at ballet practice at this time until eight and Roy wouldn’t be out on patrol yet. 

There’s a yelp from inside and a crash. A chill shoots down Dick’s spine. 

Glad that he always carries around his retractable escrima sticks, he sets his bag on the ground and he holds his weapon in his palm tightly. 

Dick rushes to the roof and scurries down the fire escapes to Roy’s apartment. 

Grateful for his shitty window locks, he slips in through Lian’s bedroom and stalks quietly to the door.

There’s another crash, a loud thud, and a cry. Obvious signs of struggle.

Dick tiptoes to the door and peeks through the crack. Dick freezes.

Roy sits on the kitchen counter with his head tilted back and his eyes shut blissfully, lips parted, while a shirtless Jason — yes, that Jason, his little brother Jason  — stands between his spread thighs and attacks his throat with his mouth, one hand braced against the counter and the other slipped down his—

“What?!” Dick cries, the words tumbling out before he can stop them.

The two men freeze. Their heads snap to the door, Jason already grabbing his gun.

“It’s me! Don’t shoot!” Dick exclaims. He pulls open the door which only makes them tense more, Jason’s face stony and annoyed and Roy’s face in a casual grin.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason demands.

“What are you doing here?!” Dick replies, voice a high squeak.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jason raises an eyebrow.

Dick ignores that statement and whips to face Roy. “Jason?!” he questions, voice filled with disbelief.

“Please don’t kill me,” Roy says.

“Jason,” Dick repeats, voice now a growl.

“I know,” Roy responds with a wince.

“What— when did—” Dick’s hands flail hysterically. “How long has this been going on?”

“Like a year?” Roy says meekly.

“A year?!” Dick screeches.

“We weren’t exactly talking,” Roy starts.

“Uh uh. Nope. I don’t want to hear it.” Dick’s eyes flicker to Jason whose chest is covered in hickies and back pink from scratches. Dick gags slightly. “I never needed to see this. Ever.”

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore,” Jason says, arms crossed over his chest.

“But you’re still—!” Dick cuts himself off. “I know after everything… you might… you think we don’t care, but Jason,” Dick gives him a soft smile, “you’re always gonna be my little brother.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Stop being sappy. It gives me hives.”

“And because you’re my little brother,” his eyes shift to Roy again. “Roy,” he says, voice clipped and sharp.

“Yes?” Roy replies, sinking slightly.

“May I speak with Roy alone, please?” Dick says, voice unnervingly calm, eyes not straying from Roy.

“Uh, fuck no?” Jason says. “We were kinda in the middle of something?”

“Sorry, Jay, but Dick, despite his name, is a major boner killer,” Roy says. “And I don’t think he’s gonna take no for an answer.”

“I can make him take no as an answer,” Jason says, knuckles cracking as he clenches his fists.

“Jay,” Roy says gently. “Just go. We obviously aren’t gonna be able to finish this tonight. Not when he’s so—” Roy gestures vaguely, but Jason seems to get what he means.

Jason, begrudgingly and very hesitantly, huffs an affirmation. “Fine. I’ll go.” He narrows his eyes and points at Dick. “I am gonna get back at you, Dickwad. Just you wait.” Jason slips his shirt back on and exits (surprisingly) through the front door.

“So…” Roy says awkwardly.

Dick gives him his sternest ‘big brother’ face. “Let’s just get straight to the point. I don’t care that my baby brother is a trained mass murderer with a body count higher than my SAT score. I know he can handle himself.” He walks closer, his teeth baring in a scowl. “But if you do anything to hurt him, I will come and personally rip your testicles out of your body with my bare hands. And that’s a promise.”

Roy gulps. 

“Understood?” Dick asks, voice low.

Roy nods. “Crystal clear.”

Dick smiles, body loosening into his usual bouncy self. “Good!” He claps a hand to Roy’s shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “Now, I’ve got some Beijing Beef on Lo Mein, a pack of Bud Lite, an arrangement of milk chocolates, and…” He opens the door where (thankfully) his things still sit, “the new Asian Barbie.” Dick holds them up with a raised eyebrow. “So, what’d’ya say?”

Roy, relaxing slightly, grins. “Well, what’re we waiting for?”

“You got anything on your TV that isn’t Strawberry Shortcake or Peppa Pig?”

Roy taps his chin, pretending to think. “Can’t promise I do.”

“Well, guess we’ll just have to see.” Dick goes to sit on the couch but Roy suddenly shouts.

“Don’t sit there!” 

Dick freezes. “Why?”

“You… don’t want to know.”

“Is there any surface in this apartment that I can sit?” Dick asks.

“...probably not?”

Dick shudders. “Yup. Don’t want to think about that.” Dick goes to Lian’s room and grabs her tiny bean bag chair. “This safe?”

“Ew, gross, of course it is!” Roy says, disgusted at the thought of otherwise.

“Well, in that case,” Dick plops down onto the bright pink cushion, “pass me a beer.”

And if Dick passive aggressively threatened Roy throughout the rest of the night, then so be it.

[mnemememory]

i’m going to need you to go to hell

critical role cutthroat kitchen au

“In this case, I have $150,000 of cold, hard cash. Six chefs get $25,000 each. If they want to leave this kitchen with any money, they have to survive three of my culinary challenges. And each other.” A small smile plays over Jester’s face as she stares down the camera. “In this game, sabotage isn’t only encouraged – it’s for sale.”

Jester always loves this part. With a dramatic flourish of her hand, the curtains behind her open to reveal her next round of victims. Participants. Whatever.

“Welcome – to Cutthroat Kitchen.”

.

“Ah, hi. My name is Yasha. I like cooking.”

There’s a pause as the cameraman waits for her to continue. Yasha continues to stare blankly at the camera, face indifferent.

The cameraman clears his throat. “What sort of cooking do you prefer?”

“Oh, you know,” Yasha says. She doesn’t elaborate.

.

Jester stands to the side of her table, arms crossed.

In front of her are five people – chefs, supposedly. Jester hadn’t looked too hard at their credentials. After all, just because they could sauté a shrimp didn’t mean they could do it in handcuffs. Being a bad cook was more entertaining for their program’s target audience, not less.

No, Jester had specifically chosen these people because of how explosive this was going to be.

(Also, she had gotten them all really, really drunk).

From the back of the set, someone gives Jester the go-ahead.

She clears her throat. “Hi! Welcome everyone, hope you’re having a great day. I’m having a wonderful day. I guess we should get started with the rules – now I know you all had to tick a box saying that you’d read and understood the terms and conditions outlined in your contract, but no one actually reads those. Firstly – I am Jester Lavorre! Otherwise known as the really famous Lady Fancypants McGee!”

She pauses. There’s a confused pause, and then everyone gives some mumbled version of “Hi, Jester.”

“Now, you five will be enduring – I’m sorry, participating in three rounds of cooking! I’m going to be assigning the dish. You have sixty seconds to shop for your essential ingredients in our Cutthroat Kitchen pantry. After that – well.”

Jester smiles at them. It is not a nice smile.

“We’re going to have an auction.”

.

“I’m Beauregard Lionett,” Beau says, sprawled out over the provided chair. Her foot is hooked around the side and digging slightly into the sheet background. “And I’m going to win Cutthroat Kitchen. I spent years training under the members of the Cobalt Soul – I’ve seen things. Horrible things. I can’t be scared anymore.”

There’s a sigh. Off-camera, someone mutters almost too low for the mic to pick up: “Why do we always get the crazy ones?”

“Don’t blame me, man. Jester’s the head of scouting.”

Louder: “What’s your specialty?”

Beau tilts her head to the side, thinking about it. “Anything that’s not sweets, really.”

.

“And for our first round, you’ll all be making – cupcakes!”

Jester splays out her fingers and wriggles them around. Behind her, a curtain opens to reveal a massive platter of multi-coloured cupcakes. She grabs one and bites into it, getting frosting on her nose. When she grins, her teeth are stained blue.

“Okay, are you all ready?”

Everyone nods.

Jester moves out of the way of the pantry, leaning up against the island table. “On your marks,” she says slowly. The contestants shift their grocery baskets around in their grips. “Get set…”

She waits.

And waits.

And takes another bite out of her cupcake.

“Go!” she yells, mouth still full and spraying crumbs everywhere.

And they’re off – Beau gets there the fastest, shoving Fjord aside when he tries to duck in before her. Veth is next, hopping nimbly over Fjord’s fallen form and dashing inside. Fjord scrambles to his feet and starts shoving as much food into his basket as he can, elbowing Beau when she goes for more icing sugar. Caleb ducks the flying limbs and goes to grab the chilli powder. Yasha stands at her table, looking horribly lost.

Caduceus just walks.

“Ten,” Jester cheers. “Nine! Eight!”

Caduceus walks out, basket full, smile mild.

“Seven! Six!”

Caleb rushes away from the dangerous elbows and back to his station. His basket doesn’t look anywhere near as well-stocked at Caduceus’, but there are enough ingredients that he could theoretically make something.

“Five!”

Beau lunges past the doors and falls face-first onto the ground, basket spilling everywhere. She rolls onto her feet and makes a flying leap for the bag of self-raising flour that Caleb is bending to pick up.

“Four! Three! Two!”

Veth sprints out, tripping Fjord onto the ground.

“One!”

With a maniacal laugh, Jester slams the pantry door shut on Fjord’s face. He gives a loud groan and stares rolls over to stare up at the ceiling.

“Well, well, well,” Jester says. She’s finished her first cupcake and is onto her second one. There is now pink icing on her fingertips. “Looks like I’ve caught a fly in my web!”

Fjord gets up and resignedly holds out his basket for inspection. Jester winches the door open once more and stands in front of him, stroking a finger along a non-existent moustache.

“What are you taking from me,” he says.

“I think – hmm, it’ll be difficult to make cupcakes without milk!” Jester says, grabbing the carton and shoving it randomly onto a shelf. Fjord just shakes his head and walks away.

Jester turns around and claps her hands.

“Now for the fun part! Let’s talk sabotages.”

.

“My name is Caleb Widogast,” Caleb says, not blinking. “I am thirty-three. I was born in the Zemni Fields. I have a cat called Frumpkin –”

“Oh, um, no,” the cameraman says. “You’re introducing yourself with regards to cooking –”

“My best friend is named Veth,” Caleb says. “She is also competing. She is very good at cooking.”

“Oh boy,” the cameraman says under his breath. “Well – what about you? What do you like to cook?”

“I like to set things on fire,” Caleb says.

.

“Starting bid for the hook is…?”

“One hundred dollars,” Beau says quickly.

“Two hundred,” Veth says.

Jester grins and waves the plastic pirate hook around to each person as they bid.

“Three hundred,” Beau says.

Veth narrows her eyes. “Five hundred dollars.”

“Six hundred and fifty dollars,” Beau says, teeth clenched.

“Seven hundred dollars,” Veth says.

Jester is watching them go back and forth in delight, head bouncing around like a Ping-Pong ball. When Beau fails to respond, she starts talking.

“Okay, so – seven hundred dollars – going once – going twice – sold! To the halfling with the shiny buttons!”

Veth puffs out her chest and goes up to deposit the money into Jester’s grabby hands and collect her prize.

“They are very shiny, aren’t they?” she says. Then she takes a good look at her competitors.

Beau is scowling into her basket, annoyed at having lost. Veth feels no regrets about having spent so much money on the first item. She knows exactly who she’s giving this to.

“Captain Tusktooth,” Veth says, tipping him an imaginary captain’s hat. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Fjord jerks the hook out of her hands angrily and glares at her. Veth gives a contented sigh and goes back to her designated spot, just next to Caleb.

.

“I’m Chef Brenatto, from Felderwin,” Veth says. She’s standing on her chair rather than sitting in it, smiling wide with sharp teeth. “And these punks are going down.”

“What do you like to cook, Chef Brenatto?” the cameraman says, sounding resigned.

“Oh, everything,” Veth says. Her dress has a lot of buttons on it, sewn heavy along her skirt. “But my favourite things are rats. I’ve tried to cook my friend Caleb’s cat once or twice – he always gets away from me, the sneaky good-for-nothing – but nothing beats a good roasted rat.”

.

“Next up, we have this lovely cement mixer! If you win this bid, you can give this to whoever you like to substitute for their mixing bowl and stirring utensils. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly sanitary. Probably. In any case, I’m not the one who has to eat it, so.”

“Oh no,” Beau says, staring at it.

Jester’s smile is positively evil. “Oh, yes. Starting bids!”

“One thousand dollars!” Fjord says, eyes wide with panic.

“One thousand five hundred!” Beau says.

“One thousand six hundred,” Veth says.

Fjord turns towards them both. “I am not getting this cement mixed on top of a pirate hook. One thousand eight hundred dollars.”

Veth smiles at him daintily. “Two thousand.”

“Three thousand,” Fjord says through gritted teeth.

Veth stares at him with narrowed eyes, and then gives a huff and shrugs it off. Beau gives a wave of acceptance to Jester.

“Going once – going twice – sold! Three thousand dollars from Captain Tusktooth.”

“Do you have to call me that?” Fjord says, walking up to deposit his money. Jester just shrugs and shoves it back into her bedazzled pink briefcase.

Then he starts looking around the room for signs of weakness.

“Really,” he says out loud. “There’s only one person I can give this to.”

Veth glares at him as he wheels the cement mixer over to her. “I’ll get you for this, pretty boy.”

“I’m sure you will,” Fjord says, going back to his own station.

“Final sabotage for the round,” Jester announces, grabbing something from underneath her island and slamming it loudly onto the table. With a dramatic wave of her hand, she pulls back the cover to reveal a freezer of strawberry ice cream. “For this one, you have to substitute all the sugar in your baskets with this! Starting bids?”

“Three hundred dollars!”

.

“Hi, I’m Fjord Stone, I’m the owner of the restaurant chain Captain Tusktooth. We specialise in seafood.”

Fjord gives the camera a slightly uneasy smile. He keeps glancing around, like he’s expecting someone to jump up and scare him at any second.

The cameraman clears his throat. “Are you okay, sir?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course,” Fjord says. “I just heard that Veth – er, Chef Branatto – was also competing. I was wondering if she’s already here?”

Veth shoves aside the fabric background and jumps onto the back of Fjord’s chair, grabbing at his shoulders. “You bet I am.”

The camera cuts on Fjord’s startled scream.

.

“As you can see, halfway through and they’re doing remarkably well despite my – handicaps.” Jester snickers to herself and gestures to Fjord’s station, where he’s apparently attempting to mix the batter with his hook.

“And Veth is using that cement mixer to full advantage, managing – oh, hi, Yasha.”

Yasha sneaks up behind the camera and gives a small wave. “Jester, may I have some butter?”

“Of course,” Jester says. She goes into the pantry and comes out a few seconds later. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Yasha says, going back to her workstation. Although she hadn’t actually grabbed anything from the pantry in the initial sixty seconds, she’s managed to accumulate a veritable wealth of ingredients to the side – including, but not limited to: half of Caduceus’ eggs, some of Fjord’s icing sugar, and a tub of Beau’s ice cream.

“Where was I?” Jester says. “Oh! Yes – Veth is trying to make some very delicious-looking triple chocolate cupcakes –”

.

“Hi,” Caduceus says, waving. “I’m Caduceus Clay. You might know me from the SBS network’s show Grave Discoveries, where my family and I discuss the ups and downs of operating a small Church cemetery. Each episode, we delve into the history of Shady Creek Run and all the mysterious happenings around the area.”

“Food,” the cameraman says. He sounds utterly defeated. “Please. We are a food show.”

Caduceus looks delighted. “You are?” he says. “Jester didn’t really tell me what I was doing. This was only a social visit, you see.”

The cameraman’s forehead smack was audible even without a microphone.

.

“Alright, people – count down with me!”

Jester was jumping up and down in front of the cameras, waving her arms about wildly as she counted.

“Five!”

Caleb very calmly tried to put out the fire on his stove. Veth was right next to him, frantically trying to help. Neither of them was doing a very good job.

“Four!”

Fjord and Beau were racing to plate everything; Beau had apparently given up halfway through for the icing and was just drizzling her raw cupcake with melted ice cream. Fjord was attempting to bump her at every turn while also desperately smoothing down his own icing with his hook.

“Three!”

Yasha was sitting next to her already-plated cupcake, doodling flowers onto the plate in icing.

“Gee, that looks nice,” Caduceus says, leaning over.

Yasha turns to smile at him. “Thanks. Yours looks really good too.”

“It’s matcha.”

“Two!”

A hoard of crew members descends upon Caleb’s cooking station with fire extinguishers.

“One! Alright – time is up, challenge over, hands off the food.”

.

“Can everyone please extend the warmest welcome to your judge for today – Mollymauk Tealeaf!”

Mollymauk walks out from behind the stage, seeming undeterred at the lack of applause coming from the people lined up in front of him. In particular, Caleb and Veth look a little more charred for wear, while Beau has a split lip and Fjord is leaning precariously against the side of his table to hide his limp.

“You’re the judge?” Beau says, scowling.

“Beauregard, how lovely to see you once again. And in such pleasant circumstances, too!”

“I will punch you,” Beau says.

“Now, now, is that any way to greet an old friend? And also holder of your fate?”

Jester beams at them all. “Molly was backstage, so he doesn’t know what’s been going on.”

“I can guess,” Molly says with a careless flick of his fingers. “But I don’t really care. What’s on the menu today, Madame Lavorre?”

“Cupcakes!” Jester says. She turns around and grabs another one of her pre-prepared snacks to wave around Molly’s face.

“Excellent,” Mollymauk says. “Now, I’ve been told I only care about three things – does it look good, does it taste good, and is it actually a cupcake?”

Fjord and Beau exchange uneasy glances, and then seem to realise what they’re doing and look away.

.

“Hi, Molly,” Yasha says.

“Hello, Yasha. That’s some lovely artwork you have there.”

“Thanks.”

Molly picks up the cupcake and takes a bite. He tilts his head to the side, and then smiles.

“Ooh, strawberry. Very nice.”

“Mhm.”

.

Molly moves on.

“Cousin,” Caduceus says in greeting.

“Cousin,” Molly says. He picks up the cupcake. “Matcha! My favourite.”

“I know.”

Jester frowns at him. “No one was supposed to know who the judge was. Did you tell him, Molly?”

“No,” Molly says, crumbs flying out of his mouth.

“How did you know?” Jester demands, standing up onto her tiptoes to glare at him.

Caduceus just smiles.

.

“I’m not eating that,” Molly says, staring at the charred lump of coal settled innocuously in the middle of the white plate. Pieces of ash had started flaking off and were staining the sides.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Caleb says.

.

“Chef Brenatto,” Molly says, all teeth.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” Veth says, smile just as wide.

“I haven’t seen you since – when was it, again?”

“The hospital,” Veth says. “Scrambled eggs.”

“Ah, yes. Now, tell me about this – interpretation of yours.”

“It’s still technically a cake,” Veth says.

“Hmm.”

“It’s just a…pan…cake.”

“I see.”

.

“Beauregard! Such a wonderful surprise.”

“Fuck off,” Beau says, arms folded across her chest defensively.

“And what’s this…delightful creation of yours?”

“It’s a cupcake.”

Molly eyes the sludgy mess dubiously. “Are you sure?”

“Look, are you going to eat it or not?”

Molly picks it up and holds it to the light. It slides out of his fingers and lands back onto the plate with a squelch.

Beau glares at him. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did not –”

.

“Captain Tusktooth,” Molly says.

Fjord just glares at him, head held high. Then his shoulders slump and he gives a defeated wave across his monstrosity.

“Really? You have to call me that too?”

“Oh, but of course,” Molly says. He squints down at the cupcake and then reaches out to poke it. “I think this is more icing than cake.”

“Just how I like it,” Jester pipes up.

Fjord spares a brief second to smile fondly at her. He turns his attention back to Molly, who still hasn’t taken a bite.

“I don’t know how to pick this up without getting icing everywhere,” Molly says after a while. He tries to pinch at the top, but his fingers just slide right through.

“Hey, don’t ruin it!” Fjord protests.

Molly shrugs, using his fingers to scrape off most of the excess icing, and then pops the little circle of cake left remaining into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully for a few seconds, face serious.

Then he turns away.

“Excuse me,” Fjord says, outraged. “That’s all you have to say?”

Molly gives a careless wave of his hand and keeps walking.

.

“Caleb, you’re disqualified.”

“Yeah, okay,” Caleb says. He just looks tired. It takes him less than thirty seconds to stuff the money back into Jester’s hands and then run off to the side of the set.

“Don’t forget, we’re all still going out after this,” Jester calls after him. She waits a few seconds to see if he responds, and then gives an “eh” and turns back to Molly.

“And the other person leaving today is –” he pauses, grin wide.

Jester takes another bite of her cupcake.

“– Captain Tusktooth.”

“This is bullshit!” Beau bursts out loudly. “Just because you don’t like me – wait, I’m not being kicked out?”

“Thanks, Beau,” Fjord says sourly.

Beau looks slightly dazed. “I’m still competing?”

“I can kick you out if you really want me to,” Molly offers.

“No, no, that wasn’t what I –”

“See you for the afterparty, Jess,” Fjord says with a sigh.

Jester just grins at him, reaching over to swipe a speck of icing off his cheek. She watches him walk away fondly, and then pats Molly on the head and pushes him backstage.

“Congratulations on surviving the first round! Round two is just as much fun – I hope everyone likes ice cream!”

.

[thatwitchyaunt]

Makeup for Magick/Ritual: Imbolc

So, this is a post that got taken own off of reddit because, apparently, a post about makeup as a tool in witchcraft is not... about... witchcraft? Okay? Anyway, this is the copy/paste of the original first post and the rest of this series will be here, so I hope you enjoy. And to anyone coming here from r/witchcraft, welcome to the absolute hot mess that is The Whatever Book!

“Well, here we go! The first post in (hopefully) a series that some of you were surprisingly interested in! Not gonna lie, I thought it would get a bunch of downvotes and that'd be that, but here we are! Before I start, quick disclaimer: My current phone is a 3S, so the pictures aren't the... best quality. But it's what we're working with. Now let's get into it!

So, quick cheeky recap of what I said in my original post: My other passion besides witchcraft is makeup. It's how I express myself artistically and I often use themed makeup looks as a way to celebrate the sabbats, doubling as offerings on Imbolc and Lammas/Lughnasadh. Sometimes, I even incorporate themed looks into spellwork in the same way I would decorate an intention-specific altar. (I fully blame Ms. Frizzle for my love of themed/inspired-by makeup looks, btw.) Now let's get into the post! First sabbat: Imbolc.

Generally, my rituals focus on the more fiery aspect of Lady Brighid on Imbolc; so reds, oranges and yellows are what I reach for. Depending on what you focus on (cleansing/purification, healing, the returning warmth, prep for Spring, new growth, etc), what you choose may be way different. So lets take a peek at the palettes I have in my collection that I can see fitting this coming up sabbat, starting with Colourpop!

Here we have the "Uh Huh, Honey" palette, the "Orange You Glad?" palette and the "Main Squeeze" palette. I'd use these three together for my more fiery looks, but "Uh Huh, Honey" could be paired with a more icy look if your focus is on the returning warmth.

Speaking of! This is the "Going Coconuts" palette, "Blue Moon" palette, "Mint to Be" palette and "Just My Luck" palette.

"Going Coconuts" is definitely a good, affordable neutral palette for Imbolc. It's neutral, but can lean on the icier side thanks to the shade "Palm Reader". Add a pop of yellow from the "Uh Huh, Honey" palette and you're set for a "returning warmth" look.

Then there's the "Blue Moon" and "Mint to Be" palettes, which are both good for the more healing/cleansing aspects of Imbolc. "Blue Moon" can go icy (and be paired with "Uh Huh, Honey" for the returning warmth), or can be used to represent Brighid's healing/cleansing waters. The shades in "Mint to Be" are somewhere between wintery greens and spring greens, so perfect for Imbolc! These mints give me very "fresh and clean" vibes, and also would not be out of place on a set of nurse scrubs. More gentle healing than "Blue Moon".

"Just My Luck" is your girl if you're going for the green of "new growth". Try pairing with "Mint to Be" for a more interesting green look.

The last CP palette I'd look at is the "Yes, Please" palette. It's a descent dupe for the Give Me Glow "Extra Spicy" palette if it's sold out. This is Colourpop's original eyeshadow palette and has those fiery tones I reach for this time of year.

Then, onto the Give Me Glow palettes, there's the "Extra Spicy" palette. I would reach for this one over the "Yes, Please" palette, because it's a better formula and is multi-functional. "Mild", "Spicy Peach Martini" and "Habanero" make for really great blushes and "Ghost Pepper" is a really cool fiery-yellow highlighter. This is being discontinued, however, so If you want it you need to grab it while you can. 10/10, would absolutely recommend!

Next is "The Grunge" palette and the "Sweet & Sticky" palette. Both are descent neutral/nude palettes for this time of year (if you aren't like me and are down for to look like a "Happy Clown") "The Grunge" palette has some interesting matte pops and has two metallics that could lean either warm or cool depending on what you pair with it. It's currently out of stock, and I'm not sure if it's coming back? This past Black Friday, they had it labeled as "discontinued" but I'm not 100% sure.

"Sweet & Sticky" is a cinnamon bun themed palette, and the colors are spot on! I absolutely consider cinnamon buns to be an appropriate food for Imbolc, what with the white icing (melting snow) paired with the cinnamon filling (warmth) in the roll (earth). An excellent small palette for neutral lovers, and "Icing Drip" and "Sweet Cinnamon Latte" are good highlighters depending on your skin tone.

The last Give Me Glow palette is the "Summer Vibes" palette! Specifically for the shades "Orange Soda Pop", "Mango Margarita" and "Sunny". Again, for the fiery aspect of the Sabbat. All the shades in this palette are available in singles, but I'd say just get the palette if you're interested in it. This will definitely come up again in my post for Litha/Summer Solstice, no doubt about it.

Now onto BH Cosmetics! We'll start with the two bigger palettes I chose this time around: "The Zodiac" palette and the Holiday 2020 "Naughty" palette. "The Zodiac" is a that cool with a pop of warm that fots the Sabbat, and the formula is gorgeous! The middle shade is a baked highlighter as well, and looks great on fair/light skintones (don't ask me about deeper skin tones, since I'm out here looking like Casper the Friendly Ghost and have absolutely no clue).

The "Naughty" palette... I'd say it's the only holiday palette that I've seen in the past few years that a brand actually put any real thought and effort into. And the formula's 10/10, so well done, BH! If you want to do a warm tone or cool toned Imbolc look, it's got you. If you want to do a fiery look, it's got you. If you want to do an icy with a pop of fire look, it's got you. It can be used all year round, too, which is pretty great, and you can use it as a sort of anchor palette for different looks. The day I'm writing this (January 18-19, 2021) it's on sale for 60% off, so only $12, and I honestly think you should snatch it up. Definitely going to be showing up in my Yule/Winter Solstice post.

On to the smaller BH palettes! First batch are "Love in London", "Smitten in Switzerland" and "Chillin' in Chicago". These are the three more neutral/"wearable" (eff, I hate that word) palettes in the BH Travel Series. There are a couple more like this, but they'll pop up in later posts.

"Love in London" can go either warm or cool depending on the shades you use, but either way, the tones are deep enough to fit the winter season we're still in.

"Smitten in Switzerland" is more cool-toned, muted-colorful palette with a bright pop. My favorite sage green eyeshadow look is from this palette. Outside of any Sabbat uses, I genuinely cooked up an entire scenario based solely on the vibes of the palette. Like, this is the palette you'd wear if the world was no longer on fire, and you and your family decided to go to a ski lodge for a weekend. You're no winter sports kind of Witch, no skiing or snowboarding for you (you're not here to break all the bones in your body so, hard pass). Instead, you sit by the lodge's fireplace/hearth wearing a cute and cozy sweater, perhaps some cute boots. Maybe you're reading a book or on a laptop/phone/whatever with a mug filled with a hot beverage of your choice, possibly spiked. And there you stay, looking like a cute snow bunny while you wait for the rest of your family to be done nearly getting themselves killed on the slopes.

*Cough cough* Now back to the post... Eh-heh...

"Chillin' in Chicago" is the palette to grab for a muted fiery look. Still has some color to it, but nothing as intense as, lets say, the "Extra Spicy" palette. Great alternative.

Now for the two bright/colorful palettes from BH's Weekend Vibes series. "Avocado Toast" and "Blueberry Muffin". "Avocado Toast" has your greens/warm browns with a pink and yellow pop that'd work great for any "new growth" symbolism. Meanwhile, for my fellow New Englanders, "Blueberry Muffin" gives us those more icy tones for the foot of snow we usually get on, or around, Imbolc. Any other New England Witches just look at that whole "new growth" bit when they first got started and went "B!tch, how?!" ...No? Just me? Side note, "Decadent" is the exact shade of the stain from blueberry juice and that made me idiotically happy. Don't ask, cause I don't know either.

The Shroud Cosmetics "Creepy Cute" palette! Widely considered one of the best pastel palettes on the market (Use code BEAUTBEAN fo 10% off! Did I just plug one of my favorite beauty YouTubers Why yes, yes I did...), it's insanely pigmented! "Void", "Tombstone", "Creep It Real", and "Cold Shoulder" can help you with colder, more wintery looks. "Cold Shoulder" and "Creep It Real" could be used for healing/purification if that's your ritual focus, and "Third Eye" and "Strawberry Milk" could both be used as crease/blending shades for a more fore-based look.

These three are my mainstream "if color is not your jam" palettes. The Tarte "Tartelette Toasted" palette, and the Anastasia Beverly Hills "Soft Glam" palette and "Sultry" palette.

The "Tartelette Toasted" palette is your neutral fiery palette. It gives a nice orange-red "toasted" look that fits the Sabbat well. Not my first choice, but if you're looking for a "basic b!tch" warm palette, she's your girl.

"Soft Glam" and "Sultry" are more warm tone vs. cool tone. If you want a more "cold, thawing earth" vibe, "Sultry" is the way to go. If you want to get it, I think it's only available in bundles on Ulta and the ABH website (but it's like.. half off in Ulta sooooo....). And "Soft Glam", obviously, for the warmer aspects of the Sabbat.

Now, on to my single shadows!

The top five are from Shroud Cosmetics. The first four (left to right) would be good for a fiery look), while the last one would be good to use for a water look/pop.

"World Eater" (Drool-worthy metallic red), "Ignite" (coppery orange metallic), "Vigil" (yellow-gold metallic), "Oracle" (light gold "inner corner highlight" type of metallic), "Sea of Ghosts" (medium blue metallic with a gold shift).

The bottom one is from Colourpop in the shade "Glass Bull", which is the perfect inner corner highlight for icier blue/purple looks.

Last, but certainly not least, my Give Me Glow Singles!

The amount of times I had to curate these singles so they would fit into one large palette.. I just... That's why this took three years to figure out. Anyways, I have a few different color stories in this palette, so stick with me more a second.

*Row 1 (L-R)*

"Marshmallow" - White matte. Pretty basic.

"Halo" - White metallic with baby blue and gold shifts. Perfect inner corner pop of sun for icy looks.

"Satellite" - Straight up silver metallic. If the Tin Man is your fashion icon, this'll do ya.

"Bubbles" - Icy blue metallic.

"Sky High" - Bright sky blue matte. Not pictured because mine came broken, but it's legit the perfect Imbolc blue.

"Blue Jeans" - Muted grey-blue metallic.

*Row 2 (L-R)*

"Cream Please" - Basic cream shade.

"Spring Break" - Green-blue with gold shift.

"Kiwi" - Kiwi Green. What it says on the tin.

"Joker" - Olive green metallic with lime undertones.

"Patty"- Just a true green matte.

"Space Dust" - Deep Smokey true grey.

*Row 3 (L-R)*

"On Ice" - Pale champagne nude metallic.

"Highlight" - Pale champagne gold metallic.

"Lucky Charm" - Golden yellow metallic.

"Fierce" - Pale orangy peach matte.

"You're Cheesy" - Mac and cheese orange metallic.

"Low Battery" - True red orange matte, more on the red side.

*Row 4 (L-R)*

"Selfie" - Burnt golden orange metallic.

"Hashtag" - Grungy medium toned orange matte.

"Chili" - Deep blue based rusty red matte.

"Icy Frap" - Icy warm champagne metallic with taupe undertones.

"Iced Coffee" - Deep bronze gold metallic.

"Dark as My Soul" - Grungy deep warm brown matte.

Now on to the color stories:

*Color Story 1* Icy Blue with a sunny gold pop on the inner corner (returning warmth)

Marshmallow, Halo, Satellite, Bubbles, Sky High, Blue Jeans, Space Dust.

*Color Story 2* Greens (new growth)

Cream Please, Spring Break, Kiwi, Joker, Patty, Space Dust, On Ice.

*Color Story 3* Brighid's Fire

Highlight, Lucky Charm, Fierce, You're Cheesy, Low Battery

*Color Story 4* Warming earth (warm tone browns)

Selfie, Hashtag, Chili, Cream Please, Highlight.

*Color Story 5* Frozen earth (cool tone browns)

Icy Frap, Iced Coffee, Dark as My Soul, Marshmallow, Halo.

And that's that for Imbolc! Holy crap, that took ages! The pictured do not do these shadows justice. One day I'll have a phone with a properly functioning camera...

Well, Glamour Ghouls (you can boo me, it's fine), it's your turn to shop your stash and get those creative juices flowing! Is there anything in your collection that you'd grab for Imbolc? Sound off in the comments and let's inspire each other!”

[moonlightrichie]

Late Night, Early Morning

A repost of my Reddie meet-cute. Wanted to post it properly on here.

Summary:

It’s 7am. A young man has just opened his coffee shop for the day. At the same time, another young man is on his way home from a night out with his friend, and he’s really craving a donut with pink frosting.

Word count: 2900 Pairing: Reddie

READ ON AO3 HERE

It was 5 minutes to 7am, and Eddie Kaspbrak was gulping down his black coffee in a desperate attempt to get his tired eyes to stay open. The coffee shop was cleaned and ready for opening, the cake disk; usually overflowing with cute pastries, was yet to be filled with the cakes he was still preparing in the backroom. Chocolate cupcakes, powdered donuts filled with strawberry-jam and slices of marble cake were only a few of the pastries he was working on.

Baking was one of Eddie’s favorite things to do, and he had just finished a round of donuts, newly dipped in strawberry or chocolate frosting. He had even gotten up extra early to make them. They always sold well in the morning, but because of the long time they took to make, he didn’t do it that often. He just really felt like making them today.  

As he was finding his ‘coffee tunes’-playlist to play on the speakers, the lock of the door clicked, and in walked his co-worker (and best friend), Stan.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning”, Eddie replied. “I was starting to get worried. We’re opening in…” he checked the clock above the milk-steamer, “uhm, now. Just leave the door open.”

He scurried out from behind the counter, and rushed to turn the “sorry we’re closed”-sign to say “come in, we’re open”. Then, he opened his box of chalk, picking out the pink one, and thoroughly scribbled down the daily note on the sidewalk sign before dragging it outside.

The sky was painted in a beautiful pink and red light, and Eddie took a moment to breathe as he felt joy bubbling inside his chest. He couldn’t help the toothy grin forcing its way onto his lips, feeling truly happy.

“I think you need to update your coffee-playlist, Eddie. We’ve been listening to the same boring songs on repeat for like a month now, and I’ve had it”, Stan said when Eddie walked back inside. He already had his apron on, and was frowning at the computer.

Owning a coffee shop was something Eddie had dreamt of doing for years. He looked at his still newly opened coffee shop he had decorated himself with cute lights and artsy paintings, and he looked at Stan standing behind the counter, skipping some of the songs playing, and he sighed happily.

***

It was 5 minutes past 7am, and Richie Tozier was making his way down the street, still full of energy from the night out (and also still a little tipsy). He was walking a few steps in front of Bill who was babbling about how crazy it was that there were people on their way to work at the same time as they were just making their way home. Richie nodded his head in agreement. They had already passed a couple bus stops, receiving judgmental looks from middle-aged men in suits.

Richie was exceptionally happy with how the night had been. Even though he and Bill shared an apartment, they hadn’t really had much time to spend together in a while. They used to do so much, and now that Bill was studying literature and Richie was working at the local radio station, their schedules always clashed. They had finally found a weekend where they both had time, and they jumped at the chance to hang out together immediately.

It had been Richie’s idea to go out drinking, and even though Bill wasn’t too happy about it at first, he sure was happy after scoring a cute girl’s number at the club. Richie was the best wingman in the world. He had truly patted himself on the back for that one.

“Holy fuck, I’m craving cake right now.”

“Richie, you’ve buh-been craving food fuh-for three hours now, w-we have food at huh-huh-home.”

“No, Bill. Not just food. I need something sweet! I don’t know, candy, cake, frosting, ice cream, sugar cubes, anything.” Richie was waving his hands in the air, the desire for sugar burning inside his chest.

Bill sighed next to him. “Well, thuh-there is puh-puh-probably something at huh-huh-home you can eat? Puh-please let’s g-go home, I’m so tired.”

Richie looked at him, resisting the urge to fall down to the ground dramatically. “How can you even say that, Bill? Are you truly denying me the sweet taste of a donut right now? Are you sincerely saying I should instead eat whatever dry crackers we have at home? How dare you?”

Bill rolled his eyes. “S-stop being so duh-dramatic.”

Richie ignored the comment as he suddenly stopped. He sighed intensely, regretting the words he had uttered just seconds earlier, because “fuck, now I want donuts”, he whined. “You know those donuts with pink frosting? Holy shit, I need one of those right now, or else I’m actually going to die.”

“Home, Ri-Richie.”

“Fine”, Richie sulked.

They continued walking, this time Richie a few steps behind Bill. He really didn’t want the dry crackers they had at home as a snack before bed.

“How hard is it to make donuts?”

Bill shrugged. “I don’t know. Puh-probably not that huh-hard, even though I th-think you’d muh-mess it up anyways.”

Richie gasped, clutching a hand to his chest. “How can my best friend betray me like this?”

Then he looked around, and that’s when he saw it. “Oh my god.” 

Just down the street, only a couple blocks from their apartment, stood a cute little coffee shop, and it was open. Richie frantically grabbed Bill’s at arm to stop him from walking. “I can’t believe this.”

Bill looked at where Richie’s gaze was locked and he tugged his arm away. “Richie, please, I ruh-really want to go home.”

“Give me five minutes.” He started walking before Bill could protest more, and stopped when he got to the sidewalk sign.

It said ‘We have donuts’ with small pink hearts drawn around it in chalk.

“They have fucking donuts!” Richie screamed at Bill who was still on the other side of the street. “It’s literally destiny, Bill, come on!”

“Okay, just huh-hush, people are sluh-sluh-sleeping.”

Richie took another quick look at the sign and the pink hearts before they walked in, muttering “cute” under his breath.

***

It was 7:20am when they got their first customers. Stan was cleaning the tables, and Eddie was just finished slicing up the marble cake.

First walked in a fairly attractive guy, tall with auburn hair and pretty eyes. The one thing Eddie noticed, though, was that this man was definitely not on his way to work. He looked dead tired as if he hadn’t slept all night.

Then entered another guy, tall and lanky, dressed in black jeans and a denim jacket. Eddie had to hold back a tiny gasp when he saw the dark curls framing the guy’s pale face, because damn it if this guy wasn’t Eddie’s type exactly. 

The guy was smiling wide, talking loudly to his friend, and the shop was suddenly much more lively than it had been just seconds ago.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Good morning!”

The two guys looked up at the same time, both looking a little caught off guard as if they hadn’t realized there were going to be people there. 

The guy with curly hair locked eyes with Eddie, and Eddie smiled shyly.

For a moment, the guy just stared at him, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Holy shit”, he whispered softly.

Eddie furrowed his brows in confusion, smile faltering just the tiniest bit. “Uhm.”

The guy shook his head as if coming out of a trance, clearing his throat. “Ah, uh, y-yes, good morning.” He was blushing, an embarrassed smile taking over his features. Cute.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Eddie asked, walking over to the cash register.

The guy came closer, his smile suddenly a lot bolder. “How about your number, cutie?” His tone was flirtatious, catching Eddie off guard.

He heard Stan scoff from where he was washing tables.

It took a couple seconds before Eddie managed to regain his composure. “Well, uhm”, he laughed humorlessly, feeling warmth spread across his face. He frowned, not quite believing the situation he was in. Was he actually being hit on at 7:20 in the morning? “I’m sorry, but that’s not for sale.” He raised his eyebrows. “And actually, I’m not really sorry for that.”

The guy sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to settle for one of those donuts.”

“With strawberry or chocolate frosting?”

“Definitely strawberry.”

“Right, that will be 2 dollars then.”

Eddie could feel the guy’s eyes looking him over as he walked over to the cake disk. He put the donut carefully into a paper bag before returning to the register. There was a 5-dollar bill lying there, and the guy was smiling at him, showing off his semi-crooked teeth. “Keep the change, cutie.”

Eddie couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love with that smile. The guy obviously had lots of charm and charisma and was probably a natural flirt too. Having way too much pride and being the stubborn man that he was, Eddie was not going to fall for it. The guy might be cute, but he did look like a mess. His hair was chaotic, his eyes tired and just like his friend, he looked like he had been up all night. 

Eddie smiled timidly while handing over the paper bag. “Thank you.”

When grabbing the bag, the guy brushed his fingers over Eddie’s, evidently on purpose, and Eddie cursed himself when the touch left tingles prickling on his skin.

“You know, I think it was destiny that we met.” The guy had his elbow on the counter, his chin resting in his palm, eyes never leaving Eddie’s face.

Eddie raised his eyebrows dejectedly. “Yeah? How so?”

“Because…” the guy raised his other hand, pointing his finger in the air as if trying to make a point. “Literally not even 10 minutes ago, me and Bill here”, he pointed to his friend, “we were walking down the street, and talking about how much we wanted donuts. And suddenly, out of nowhere, your cute little shop pops up with a sign saying you have donuts.” The guy smiled wider. “I think that’s fucking destiny.”

“I think that’s just called a coincidence.” Eddie was trying his hardest not to sound mean. He was in his work place, and took his job very seriously. Treating costumers nicely was very important for the shop’s reputation. This guy was making it very fucking difficult.

The guy just kept smiling despite the rejecting tone to Eddie’s voice. “No, I don’t think so. What I think, is that I just met the love of my life.”

Eddie couldn’t help the surprised sound escaping his throat. His face was probably as red as the sunrise outside.

“Richie,” the other guy said. “Can we puh-please go huh-home now?”

Richie just raised his hand at the guy, still looking at Eddie. “Just a moment.”

The guy, clearly frustrated, rubbed his hands over his fatigued face. “You said five muh-minutes.”

Richie turned around then. “Bill, if this was the other way around, I would wingman the hell out of you right now. Are you really trying to ruin this for me?” It seemed like he was trying to whisper even though the volume was very much the same.

Eddie looked over at Stan, and Stan was smiling at him amusedly, clearly entertained by the situation. Traitor.

“We’ve buh-been awake all n-night, the alcohol is out of our suh-system, and you’ve guh-got your donut.” The guy, Bill, was looking ready to pass out, and Eddie felt sorry for him.

“Wait, you’ve been out drinking?” Stan said from where he was now standing behind the cake disk. “Who goes out to party on a Sunday?”

“Irrelevant”, Richie said, looking back at Eddie. “What matters is that I’ve found my soulmate.”

Eddie scoffed, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t even know me.” 

Richie shrugged. “Well, let me take you out then so I can get to know you.” The tone of his voice was much more sincere than flirtatious now, and Eddie was angry with himself for believing it.

He was struggling to find a response, not really wanting to reject the guy anymore. He was very cute and charming, and once again, exactly the kind of guy Eddie would usually fall for.

While Eddie was thinking over his words, Richie opened the paper bag and took a bite of the donut. Every word Eddie was forming in his brain flew out the window as the guy moaned while chewing and looked at Eddie in shock.

“Did you make this?”

Eddie nodded, his mouth slightly open. “Uhm, yes.”

The guy stared at him, his lips coated in pink frosting. “Marry me.”

Eddie jerked backwards while Stan laughed.

“No seriously, we’re perfect together. I love donuts.” He pointed to himself. “And you”, he pointed at Eddie, “make the best fucking donuts I have ever tasted.” He started gesturing between the two of them. “If that’s not soulmates right there, then I don’t know.”

“It takes more than love for donuts to be soulmates, so no, I don’t think you know”, Eddie said.

“Ouch.” The guy placed a hand over his heart, laughing slightly.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“At least tell me your name then.”

Eddie had to consider for a second, but this guy was slowly winning him over. “It’s Eddie.”

“Eddie.” The guy nodded. “Beautiful name for a beautiful man.”

Stopping the blush from spreading over his cheeks was practically impossible at this point. “Thanks”, he answered softly.

“Has this coffee shop always been here? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“We opened just a couple weeks ago actually.”

“That’s really great, I hope it stays.” Richie smiled genuinely. “These donuts really deserve some true recognition.”

“Thanks, we hope so too.” Eddie smiled back.

“Well, I guess we’re off. Time to get this guy to bed”, Richie said, putting an arm around Bill who looked half asleep.

“Fuh-finally”, Bill yawned.

Richie dropped his arm from Bill’s shoulders as they started walking towards the door, and panic rose in Eddie’s chest. There was absolutely no guarantee he would ever see this Richie again, and despite his efforts of not giving into this guy’s flirtatious behavior, he really didn’t want him to leave. Seeing Richie walk out the door was like letting a beautiful opportunity slip through his fingers.

They were half way out the door, and Eddie spoke before he knew what he was doing “Wait!”

They turned around, Richie’s hand on the door handle. Eddie rushed to find a napkin and quickly scribbled down his number before he could change his mind. He had a feeling that he probably wouldn’t.

He reached out his hand, napkin hanging loosely from his fingers. “Here,” he smiled timidly, suddenly feeling scared that Richie wouldn’t want it after all.

A pleased grin took over Richie’s face as he slowly walked back to the counter. “Really?”

Eddie laughed nervously. “Yes, really.”

Richie reached out, caressing his fingers over Eddie’s as he took the napkin from Eddie’s grip. “Wow, I’ll text you as soon as I wake up tomorrow.”

Eddie grinned. “Don’t you mean later today?”

Richie laughed, crinkles appearing on the sides of his eyes. He looked beautiful. “Exactly.”

Bill tapped Richie on the shoulder.

“Right”, Richie said. “We’re going now.”

They started walking towards the door again, and as Bill opened the door, Richie turned back to look at Eddie. “You’re not going to regret this, Eds.”

“By calling me that, I’m already regretting it!” Eddie said lightheartedly.

The door was closing as Richie started laughing, filling the coffee shop with the beautiful sound one more time.

Eddie just stared at them as the two men talked outside for a second in the pink light.

“I can’t believe that just happened”, Stan said as he stepped up beside him. “Only you could get a date at 7am in the morning.”

Eddie tried glaring at him, but it was impossible with the massive smile on his face.

*** 

It was 7:30am when Richie and Bill stepped out of the coffee shop.

“I can’t believe you just did that”, Bill said. “There were so many people you cuh-could have picked up at the club but duh-didn’t, and instead you pick up someone fuh-fuh-from a coffee shop after we’re duh-done partying.”

Richie laughed. “Well, there weren’t anyone interesting in the clubs. You saw how cute he was, Bill.”

“Well, he wuh-was certainly your type.”

“I’m definitely marrying him.”

“Sure, Richie. Let’s go.”

As the two of them started walking down the street, Richie couldn’t stop himself from looking at the sidewalk sign once more. On the other side that they hadn’t seen on their way inside, it said “Have a brew-tiful day!” a drawn coffee cup with a smiley face grazing the bottom. “So fucking cute”, Richie muttered to himself.

Then he looked up at the coffee shop itself, seeing the name “Books and coffee” in a cursive pink font. He made a mental note of asking Eddie about the name the next time he saw him before turning around and following after Bill, the napkin safely tucked inside the pocket of his jean jacket.