#ability to be as silent as possible or as unnoticeable as possible

[skinreflectsthesun]

I swear the next person to ask me why my son is cranky and whiny I’m just gonna turn to them and say “he must just not like you 🤷🏻‍♀️”

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Remember my hivemind/bee-like/mind-control mutant Reader? Yeah, from the Villain AU? Well, what if we have a version of them in X-Men Evolution AU?

Reader Readerson, a lone wolf kind of teen, who wears brown boots, a black top, and golden-amber shorts, is a mutant who only recently discovered their mutation. But it isn't something they like, or feel safe with. Not at all.

They can control people, in a way.

They aren't sure exactly how or why, they just know they have some kind of, of venom, or maybe a pheromone, or something, that if a person absorbs, Reader can hear their thoughts. And the ones infected? They can hear Reader's, too. But when Reader tries to figure it out, or fix it, they find that while the infected retain their personality and memories and know how to breathe and blink, they are influenced by Reader.

Reader never meant to find out, they aren't aren't sure how it happened, it was an accident, they swear! But now their mind is constantly filled with the hum of other thoughts, seeing and hearing things those others feel, having to hear and know in full their anger and terror and panic and hate, and Reader just-

They stop sleeping.

They start wearing gloves.

They stay away from groups, from crowds, from everyone, more than they already did.

They feel scared of themself, they want to cry but can't, they feel like a monster, they don't want to be like this, they don't want to exist-!

They end up transferred to a new school, they're forced to pack up and go to wherever their new home is, and now they have to make themself as unnoticeable and forgettable as possible. They're alone, in this strange new place, left to their own devices, and with no one to turn to. It's excruciating. They're in pain. Their mind hurts almost each waking moment...

But they can't sleep for longer than a few hours, or they might see or hear the others, might have to see their faces and be under their scrutiny and possibly yelled at or blamed or abandoned all over again... And they can't go through it again. They just can't...

They end up catching the eye of Xavier and Mystique, both of whom want their teens to try and find our more about Reader, see if they can figure out the extent of their abilities, and perhaps see if they can get Reader to join them...

This leads to the X-Teens and Brotherhood teens trying to figure out the lonely kid who talks only when spoken to, who looks exhausted, and who wears gloves, sweaters even when it's hot, and stay to their own devices. Jean tries to see into their mind, to see what they're working with- and is pulling back out, shaken up a bit by how loud and scared it is inside Reader's head, full of constant stress and fright and paranoia...

Kitty and Kurt try to appear as possible friends or study buddies, putting on their best face, and inviting Reader to sit with them during fieldtrips. Reader is scared of almost everything and everyone, according to Jean, so they need to be as unintimidating as possible. Evan gets them to help tutor him and offers to help them with picking an extracurricular (Oh look, basketball, he's sure they'd be great at that! And he plays it too! What are the odds!) Rogue is sitting by them, offering silent company or recommending some good books, choosing ones with themes of friendship and acceptance. And Scott and Jean are trying to appeal to them, in an older sibling/student kind of way, asking if they are okay, and if they might want to see their Professor for some help, do they need someone to walk them home from school or drive them where tbey need to go?

Wanda is giving them space. She'll simply sit there, read a book or work on homework, but otherwise be a presence around Reader, so they'll get used to it. Pietro is trying to come off as charming, asking questions a mile a minute, offering g that he and his friends are the best, so wouldn't Reader like to try hanging with them? Todd takes art class with them, and compliments their clay sculptures and paintings, hoping to bind through creativity. Fred is trying trying help them during P.E., mainly by making sure they don't get hurt during dogeball (so do all the other mutants kids). And Lance tries to come off as trustworthy, pointing out they're both kinda loners, they both happen to have powers, and while he has a team, Reader doesn't, so why not join their side, hm?

Reader feels overwhelmed, but manages to hold it all in- until the adults enter, and now Reader is spiraling as their powers are about to be found out in their fullest form, and they can't stand stand be yelled at, or cast out, or seen as evil.

This ends up with the discovery going in a way Reader didn't expect... And with the growing platonic yanderes more worried than ever about this newest mutant...

@sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danni1323 @thewickedweiner @opossumdaydreamz @weebwholovesuchihasasuke @ainsellshadewalker

[aikoiya]

DPxDC - Bell Above the Box

Dude, they used to put bells above graves in case someone was accidentally buried alive so that the interred could just ring the bell & be saved. Basically, if this happened to you, then you were supposed to feel around for a string inside the coffin, then pull. Or they'd tie the string to a toe so that if the buried begins to move, it just sets off automatically. Now, I get that this custom was originally for lead poisoning, but it feels pertinent here as well.

Now, imagine if Bruce, be it out of some vain hope, had had one installed, just in case, with a sensor that would alert the batcomputer, Alfred, & Batman if it were ever pulled. Never actually expecting for it to happen. Only for, in the wake of Superboy gutpunching reality, it does.

Because of this, Bruce is there as quickly as possible, before the League gets a chance to take Jason from him.

Jason is only half there & Bruce has him at home. But the confused boy tends to wander off.

It's because of this that Jason eventually wanders to a nearby swamp & finds what's called a "blue hole," though it looked more like a green hole to him.

The glowing green water that bubbled from the stone outcrop & filtered into the swamp felt somehow familiar. The closer he drew to it, the clearer his thoughts became until he fell in.

He's submerged for a moment, not really realizing what was happening, until it was as if someone had suddenly flipped a switch inside his head. His mind was clear & there was this strange, almost comforting energy in the center of his chest.

That's when Bruce reaches in & pulls him out.

Jason becomes a very low-grade halfa with only a few powers that he now has to practice at.

Things like advanced healing, increased strength, speed, & flexibility, intangibility every once in a while (like, he can't use it willynilly), the ability to actually grab & hit ghosts, night vision, able to walk silently, even the power to see the regular, non-GZ DC ghosts like Deadman & the Gentlemen Ghost. Not able to turn invisible, but he is able to affect people's perception of him similarly to ghosts. So, he can manipulate not only a person's sense of object permanence when in regards to himself, but he can also make himself unnoticeable. Like, he can basically do what the Chameleon Circuit does. Like this:

Spectral Acknowledgment

However, because he's not a very good ratio of halfa, his anti-gravity center isn't fully developed, so he can really only slow his falling. Just stuff that gives him an edge & a few benefits, while not taking away from his fighting style.

He also gets slitted pupils, pointed ears, tapetum lucidum, & fangs, as well as a core element once it's fully developed. I'm thinking an electric primary & either a fire or shadow secondary, but he can only really cover his body with the elements to give him an edge in combat.

The Pit Rage was much more manageable because the Lazurus Water he bathed in had actually been cleaned in the last century unlike the one in Nanda Parbat. At the same time, it isn't just that Ra's doesn't clean his bath water, it's also that Nanda Parbat's pit has been intentionally corrupted by dark magic & especially necromantic energy. Luckily, this one had recently (like, within the last 50 years) been purified via the same prayer used to make Holy Water (which is the proper means of neutralizing black magic from water). This helped to stave off Gotham's many curses from corrupting the water fully.

In the end, instead of becoming Red Hood, because he has no reason to, he becomes the Cardinal.

Not much difference in the costume to be fair. Instead, he wears the red vest (but it reaches his ankles like a trench) with an actual hood & a black mouth guard.

But, he does tend to use the All-Blades more often. Don't know how he gets them here, but he does because they're awesome!

One change to them, though. They don't only appear in the presence of pure evil & also work on paranormal beings. They are, however, only deadly to those who are evil. They can hurt those who aren't, but can't kill them.

However, despite Bruce having actually been there for him, the fact that the Joker was still walking around & killing people... stung...

The thing is that Bruce had been there for him. Had actually found him. Had kept him safe once he came back. And hadn't replaced him. So, Jason couldn't hate him entirely. But in a lot of ways, that's actually worse because it hurts even worse.

And because of this, he can't bring himself to trust Bruce.

And whenever Jason sees the Joker, it's like he's right back there in that chair being sold out by his own mother. Screaming for Bruce to save him.

You see, a ghost's killer is an extreme source of stress & anxiety for them. If they are still alive & able to continue on with what they do, it is a consistent source of trauma that can send the ghost spiraling if you're not careful. It is an IMMEDIATE & INTENSE trigger. Like, we are talking some serious PTSD! The sort that triggers the fight or flight instinct. So, even though it appears similar to Pit Rage, the source isn't rage, it's fear.

The only upside is that Dick is actually treating him like a brother now.

Then, one night, Jason hears Dick & Bruce arguing & learns that Dick had actually killed the Joker & that Batman revived him.

It shattered him.

He couldn't stay with Bruce anymore & went to live with Dick in Bloodhaven.

Edit: I also just learned that, apparently, due to being part of the All-Caste, Jason also has some basic precognative abilities, though he can't use them very long before they start causing migrains. As well as the apparent ability to just shut off people's powers.

I'm thinking about making Jason the resident magic-user/supernatural hunter in the batclan. Just as a treat!

I mean, does his love of literature also extend to research on ancient mythology & legends, even those of other cultures? Because if so, he could end up being a natural.

For those who don't know, I'm talking about the Supernatural-type hunters.

DP Character HC Masterlist

[whynotjohnlock]

Hello! If it’s no trouble to ask could you write a platonic fic or headcanons for good omens?

Like where it’s Aziraphale x Crowley x teen!reader

Maybe something like how would it be to have them as parental figures/parents?

Anyways I hope you have a good rest of your evening!!

(and if you don’t mind could you add something in there about how they’d react if the reader ever came out to them? If not I totally understand!!)

A/N: I love the idea of Aziraphale and Crowley as parents! You didn't really specify what the reader was coming out as, so I made them non-binary, as that's what is most relatable to me!

In the beginning of the story the child is a girl, and they eventually figure out that they aren't a girl at all and tells our favorite angel and demon couple.

P.S (O/N) means old name and (Y/N) means Your current name

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Crowely had never been more angry in his entire life as when he first met (Y/N). Rage burned in his demonic blood and his mellow yellow eyes flickerd into a poisonous red. The only thing stopping him from calling thunder from the sky and creating mass destruction was those little innocent eyes he had met on that sorrowful day.

-Flashback-

Aziraphale had just started to reorganize the book shop, as he did every decade when the papers and memoirs and novels got mixed up beyond the ability to find them. Crowley knew Aziraphale. Without words, without any indication, he knew that the angel would get tired and would want some pastries to snack on before noon. They had been friends for eons together and words were not necessary to convey thought between the pair. Crowley went out to get some pastries because he liked to see the angel's face become soft and happy. The demon loved the way his angel's eyes seemed to cut through any darkness or pain he held.

Just the thought of Aziraphale seemed to brighten his day and a small unnoticeable smile formed on Crowley's face. Mentally he had scolded himself for being a lovesick aardvark and finally got the strength to leave the couch and swagger walk™ out of his flat's door.

A happy juant to his other beloved parked right next to the bookshop and a nice drive latter he arrived to a newly opened bakery.

The bakery itself was rather dull, and he hadn't even cared enough to remember it's name. The whole experience was rather annoying as the shopkeeper kept talking to him when he wanted to order. He stood there for what felt like ages- which considering his age was 6000+ was quite the achievement- bored and annoyed. Couldn't the shopkeeper see he was completely uninterested in conversation? While the shopkeeper was busy ranting on about the economy, the window clicked open on noticed by everyone but him.

From his periphery and under his designer black shades, a small girl that caught his attention as he watched them sneak in through the window soundlessly.

The child silently went up to one of the display racks with croissants and started stuffing them into a little brown worn out backpack to eat later. Whoever this child was, it was clear to Crowley that they would have to be very brave or very desperate or possibly both the rob a bakery in broad daylight.

Still, the shopkeepers were not the wiser as the little gremlin continued to steal their day supply bread and it appeared they would be able to escape unnoticed.

Then the floor creaked, and all eyes turn to the little girl furious and angry. "Thief! Thief! Somebody get her!" The man running the register shouted. In surprise the girl dropped her bag of food and make a run for it.

Crowley always had a soft spot for kids and it was no surprise really to anyone who had actually known him like Aziraphale, that he miracled a chair in the way of the shopkeeper so he 'accidentally' tripped and little girl could getaway.

Falling down in pain the angry man shouts "Ugh, I hate that girl! it's the third time this week! If she does that again I'll call the police to take her away!"

All respect gone for the man working the desk, Crowley decides to order three sandwiches instead of the usual two. Once the food is in his hands, he sets off to find the crafty little thief.

It only really takes 5 minutes for Crowley to find thief girl walking streets alone. "Hey kiddo, you lost?"

The girl looks up at him and surprise and then fear like a broken animal, and from her lips tumble a simple "No mister."

His heart aches, and to appear less threatening he gets down on one knee. "Hey it's all right kiddo I'm not going to hurt you. I even brought you some food."

Crowley gives the tiny human one of the sandwiches to prove he's not a threat. The girl blinks at him and then blinks again and then devours the sandwich like it's the first food she's had in weeks.

Actually, looking at her now it might be. This is the first time Crowley's been able to really observe her and from what he can see it's almost certain she's in a rough situation- which reminds him he hasn't even asked her name yet. "What's your name kiddo?"

The girl blinks once more. "(O/N)"

He hesitates. He doesn't want hell to find out he helped a small defenseless child and certainly doesn't want hastor to use the girl to get him. He looks down at the poor innocent girl who has already finished the sandwich and is eating crumbs off the floor. "I'll walk you home, just show me where you live."

(O/N) nods simply, before taking his hand and walking Eastward for a couple of blocks. She stops at the intersection between two houses. 'Maybe she needs to go in the back door?' Crowley thinks to himself. Alas, despite working for hell, his gut wasn't quite prepared for the twisting sensation when he sees (O/N) gesture to a pile of cardboard boxes.

"This is my super cool box fort!" She says truly proud of her creation and happy, as if this was an okay way of living. "Let me give you the tour!" All Crowley can do is nod dumbly as she excitedly explains her home.

"This is where I sleep! Oh, and this is where I look at the stars through my telescope." Her 'telescope' is a clear glass bottle attached to a thrown out tripod stand. "And this is where-"

Crowley is heartbroken and can't take anymore. He cuts the girl off in a gentle sad tone, "where are your parents kiddo?"

"My parents? Umm, mummy and daddy dropped me off and said they'd be back in an soon."

"When was that kiddo?" Crowley's voice breaks into fragments.

"Um, when they were painting that house red I think. Don't worry though! I'm sure they'll be back soon Mister, just like they promised!"

Crowley knew this side of town well because it was on the way to Aziraphale's house, and recalled they had painted that particular house red a year ago.

A year ago.

What in God's name had this child been through? From the size of a little girl she couldn't have been more than five or six years old.

The little girls face made him hurt so so much because she truly believed that her parents would come back to her even after a year of not being there for her. 365 days of fighting for herself alone just for the basic necessities to grow up; and some how she still had hope they were good people. It hurt that much more in that she reminded him of himself as an angel, naive and hopeful of God and the great plan she had for the universe. Her face held the same smile that Aziraphale had when he believed that Angels were good people. And by Satan and God did it hurt.

His pain fueled his rage and bitterness. Anger at the people who it forsaken the child. Bitterness for the world. Hatred for God and her holier than thou standard. His jaw clenched and fingers turned white from clenching so hard into his fist. Why had she forsaken him? Was he not good enough? Was it because he asked too many questions? God's prophet, Jesus had said time and time again that questioning was part of faith, so that really didn't make sense. The more he thought, the more none of the answers made any sense at all.

The only thing that seemed to make sense was the fact and desire and need to take (O/N) home and keep her safe. He decided he would do what no one else had done for him; he would be there, and he would protect her. He would take her home and answer all the questions she had without ever getting annoyed or angry.

No one deserves to be in trouble just for asking questions. 'It won't happen, not on my watch' he vowed.

He did not swear to God. He did not swear to Satan. Crowley sweard to the only thing that mattered to him, Aziraphale, that he would find a way to convince this little girl to go to his angel's bookshop with him and protect them from all harm.

And he did.

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*Flash forward*

His little girl grew up so fast. She wasn't little anymore. Heck, (Y/N) even a girl anymore.

It god was amazing when they came out. He was so fucking proud that his little thief was brave enough to question there own identity and gender through an incredible mental journey to find the words to represent who they where and had always been. He definitely was not crying when (Y/N) came out, even though Aziraphale had hallucinated and kept insisting that that's what happened.

They had grown into a fiercely independent young adult who had just finished education was pursuing the career of their dreams.

"Are you alright, dear?" An angel snapped him out of his thoughts, and he could have sworn his demonic heart stopped for a second.

"I'm alright, angel. I was just thinking about our little thief."

Aziraphale becomes a mother hen™ "Crowley! How meany times have I told you that they are so much more than a scoundrel who steals money in the night!"

"Angel, (Y/N) likes the nickname, and told me they like it several times!"

"Our starlight deserves a better name!"

Aziraphale had grown to love his starlight as much as he loved his wiley old serpent, with all of himself, truly, madly, and deeply. He read to (Y/N) every night, creating worlds and universes of words for his starlight to laugh and enjoy.

He took them to all his favorite restaurants, for sushi for brioche for crepes and even oysters to taste and try. Only the best for his starlight!

Both angel and demon become extremely serious and angry with one another for a few heartbeats.

Then, they burst out laughing together, unable to continue this silly argument any longer. Crowley falls over on the couch tackling his angel down with him.

They just lie there together completely unable to do anything but keep laughing together in pure unchecked joy.

Aziraphale and Crowley eventually get there giggles out, and hold one another in silence.

Aziraphale whispers softly into Crowley's ear: "I love you, my dear."

Crowley gives a half smirk half smile, "i fORgIvE yOu!"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope!"

"Well, I suppose it's well deserved, but I want you to know that I really do love you more than books and oysters and crepes. I love you more than I can say with words."

"I know, angel. And I really do forgive you for whatever that word mess was. Can we go back to cuddleing?"

"Of course dear."

Crowley and Aziraphale had never felt more at peace with the world than they did with you since you entered their life. They where truly free from hell and heaven to be with one another happy.

They were truely free to be as they always wanted to be;

An Ineffable family.

[rykno-j]

What it means to be the Strongest (j/jk)

Again writen with s/atos/ugu in mind, but unestablished, though definitely in love.

Summary: So my previous fic, if i remember correctly, had a line like:

["S/atoru, you've been too strong for too long. Let me take over, even if just for a little while."]

and then i realised i have something like that in my drafts, so why not i just develop the thought a little?

Notes: the timeline for this would be set before my previous fic [here] but reading it it isn't required to understand this one.

possibly written in the context of pre-RCT g/ojo? because i didn't want him to have the ability to replenish himself in any way. cue "Domain Amplification": Exhaustion.

there's also a point in the fic i used single inverted commas, like this: '[text]'. js to clarify, those are not actual dialogue but just g/eto's thoughts. uh.. it will make more sense when you reach that part..

And finally, to cope with the month of wait before Shibuya, I present to you..

3.4k words

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"Satoru, you've been specially requested."

"..Specially requested."

"..Specially resquested."

Geto watches as Gojo visibly deflates, before he shakes his head, expression changing as he stands up with that same bravo as ever.

"Right!! I'll prepare to leave immediately!"

The quiver in his legs don't go unnoticed by Geto.

This has been been happening for the past month. Don't they have other sorcerers that they can send?

The answer to that was obvious.

Of course there was. But who in the right mind would call on someone who was below 'the best option'?

Mission after mission, Geto finds himself missing the company of his friend. Normally, they would go on them together, but the recent spike in cases had left him with barely any space to breathe either, though he was relatively sure they were easier on him compared to Gojo.

He swears the other hadn't slept in weeks. Geto would return to their dorms, and the bed would still made the way he left it in the morning.

The few times he had tried to look under Gojo's sunglasses for eyebags, his hand had been swatted away, either physically or stopped with Infinity.

"Suguruu- I'm fine, don't worry about me."

"..Then look me in the eyes and say that again."

Gojo would laugh in response, waving his wrist dismissively in Geto's direction. "Of course I'm fine, we're the strongest, remember? It won't be fair I claimed to be tired now would it? Not that I am, of course."

Yes it would be, it would be fair. You need breaks too, Geto wanted to say, was going to say, if not for another interruption, this time from Gojo's phone.

It lit up in his lap, before the screen was raised to eye level. Geto watched as Gojo's eyebrows furrowed, shoulders slumping almost unnoticeably in disappointment.

He has seen this play out a thousand times before. As much as Geto wanted to reach out to drag Gojo back down next to him, his hand was frozen to his side.

"Another special request.. ahhh- I guess I better go get ready."

Geto watched silently as Gojo sauntered away, as if he was about to leave for a party, not a possibly life-threatening mission. Seriously.. he was forever taking things too lightly.

Geto wanted to do something, anything. Maybe file a request to give Satoru some space to breathe? Possibly even an argument that allowed him to join in the missions as backup?

Anything.

But there was always the possibility that Gojo would turn down rest, no matter how desperately he needed it. He was wearing himself dangerously thin, like a thread about to snap. All he needed was a little tug to break.

Break.

___

Days later:

"Satoru- want to go get a drink? I just saw the workers leaving, I think they got the machines refilled."

When met with no reply, Geto turned back, only to see Gojo spacing out a distance away.

"Sa-to-ru. Satoru- are you there?"

He walks up to the other, waving an open palm in front of the bowed head.

Behind the sunglasses, Geto sees Gojo's eyelashes flutter open before a finger came up to push them back into position, covering his eyes from view.

"Ah- yeah I'm here. Sorry, what were you saying?"

There he went again, dozing off at every chance he got. Geto noticed that had started happening two days ago. In class, during training, while queuing for food, while standing. And now, even while walking.

"..hH'!! ..hAH'sHHiew!! hh'..heH'tchH!!"

And there was that too. Something was definitely wrong.

"Satoru- when's the last time you slept?"

"I was just sleeping, hahaha-! Didn't you see?"

"That's not-"

"Suguru, if you're going to chew me out for not resting again, I assure you, I'm perfhH'.. perfectly.. fhH'.. fine-"

Geto shot him a look that screamed "Really??", and Gojo would have seen it, if not for the fact he snapped to the side violently, bending over as his breath hitched desperately.

"..hh'-hIH-tcHH'iew!! ..hAH'zZchHiw!!"

"Sa-"

"Dhh'..Don't worry abou'uhH'- hhH'!! hiH'zZchh!! ..hAH'DzZsh'w!! ..a-about me."

With the way he was swaying at the moment, Geto was sure a light breeze could knock him over.

What more, with the way he was standing, slouched over, a passerby would never be able to tell that Gojo was the taller of the two.

Hence, while Geto wouldn't consider himself to be one who actively sought after physical contact with Gojo (that's a lie though), he couldn't help but inch closer to the other, putting a comforting arm around Gojo's waist.

Geto then stared at the top of Gojo's head. Did his hair always look this messy? Surely not. Satoru wasn't one who paid too much attention to appearances, but this was taking it to an extreme.

"You look like you're going to collapse. Seriously. Tell me what's wrong."

"..Maybe- maybe.." Gojo mumbled as a response to Geto's earlier statement. "..Maybe I'm not feeling as well I thought.. haha-"

Geto sighs. "Took you damn near long enough. Come on, let's head back to our dorm. The drinks can wait."

Gojo whined something incomprehensible before he reached out a shaky hand to grab the arm supporting him from behind. He tilted his head up at an angle to shoot Geto a playful yet tired smirk. "Wait.. ahhh- Suguru.. s-sorry- I think.. I think I'm gonna to pass out right now."

Of course. Of course he could still find the energy to fool around in such circumstances. It was one of Gojo's character traits that Geto never understood.

He had half a mind to ask the other to snap out of it. But upon further inspection, Geto watched as Gojo's pupil glazed over with a hazy, faraway look, before it shrunk, eyelids sliding shut as Gojo went slack in his arms.

Seriously. Jokes like these should really be saved for less dire situations.

"..Satoru.. come on, let's go back."

No response.

"..Oi- Satoru.. you can't be serious. Quit fucking with me.."

No response. It's fine. Gojo liked messing with him after all.

"..S-Satoru.. oi Satoru!"

"..Fuck."

"..Fuck Fuck FUCK-! You can't be serious-"

He wasn't joking.

Forgetting that he could always manipulate his curses to handle Gojo's weight, Geto slipped his free hand under Gojo's knees, hauling him into his arms, bridal style.

"..Asshole! You're such an asshole."

'Your asshole though, right?' Geto could hear Gojo's teasing voice in his head as he made his way quickly through the hallway, his pace bordering a sprint.

That's right. My asshole.

Geto placed Gojo gently on the freshly made bed. It was probably the first time in weeks he had laid there. A soft groan escaped Gojo's lips as his head made contact with the soft pillow.

Good. He wasn't dead yet.

However, a quick touch to his cheek made Geto question his previous thought. With a fever like that, how was he not dead?

Quickly grabbing a small towel, Geto soaked it with water from his bottle, wringing it onto the floor before he brought it to the other's forehead. The mess of water puddles could wait. He had more important things to tend to.

Geto carefully folded and set Gojo's sunglasses aside, gently brushing away the strands of hair covering his face. The wet cloth was then put on his forehead.

It's not much, but it should help.

Knowing Gojo, he probably didn't take any medicine since this started. Speaking of which, Geto made a mental note to ask when it did. Gojo had been busy with a mission for the past few days, so it probably meant he was working through whatever this was.

Probably a cold.

The sneezing earlier should have been an obvious indication, but the fever he was currently running sealed the deal.

Geto knew exhaustion would eventually catch up to him. To be completely honest, he had thought Gojo would give in earlier. He must have been holding out way pass his limits.

It was alright to be weak at times, even for the 'Strongest', a concept that Gojo never seemed to understand. Either that or he did, but chose to ignore it in place of his ego and the fact that he didn't want anyone else to get hurt in his place if the curses turned out to the stronger than reported.

Geto suspected the reason leaned more towards the latter. Gojo had always cared about others in his own way, whether he considered them weak or not. Although.. with the way he openly made fun of people around him, it would cause others to beg otherwise.

Geto knew him better than that.

A soft whine drew him back into the present. Geto turned to focus his attention on Gojo. Even in the dimly lit room, his brilliant blue eyes were hard to miss, hard to look away from, no matter how dulled they were from the haze of the fever.

"Suguru.. Suguru-"

"Shh. Rest. I'm here."

"..You carried me here?"

"Mm."

Gojo let out a laugh that looked like it took all his effort. "You're stronger than you look then."

"You're just lighter than you look."

The small exchange put Geto slightly more at ease. If Satoru could still make any conversation into a joke, he was fine. Well, it at least meant his brain wasn't fried yet.

A sharp, feathery inhale dragged Geto's attention back to the bed.

"..hih'tchh!! hh'..hah'tchiw!!"

"Bless you." God. Even his sneezes sounded tired, a complete difference from his normal, over exaggerated ones.

"snff'- ..thanks."

Gojo looked seconds away from passing out again, his fist closing around the soft blanket. Sighing, Geto stood up.

"Alright, that's enough of being awake for you. Go back to sleep, okay? Let yourself rest for once."

"Hah.. so reluctant to talk to me?"

Quite the opposite, actually, Geto wanted to say. Instead, he reached over to straighten the cloth. It had fallen over to cover one of Gojo's eyes, making him look a lot more endearing than Geto would ever care to admit.

"Of course not. I just have something I have to get done, so I'll be leaving for a bit."

Geto turned away right as Gojo's frame sunk into the mattress in disappointment. If he had seen it, there was no way Geto would have left his side for another good year.

"Mm, okay."

Geto was careful not to open the door too wide. It was early in the evening, and he wanted to let in as little light as possible. Satoru had always been sensitive after all.

Behind the closed door, Gojo turned to the side, snatching Geto's pillow into his chest, pulling it into a tight embrace. He was sure the other wouldn't mind.

__

Getting pissed won't help anybody, Geto knew that, he really did. But with Gojo practically forced into bed-rest for at least half a week, he needed to raise some of his concerns to his teachers, at least.

He pulls the classroom door open.

"Sensei-"

"Ah, Suguru. Right on time. I've got a new mission file for you."

"Right. That's exactly what I've come to talk to you ab-"

"Satoru has been specially requested."

"..See that's-"

"But I've written in to specially request you to follow him."

"-exactly what I've been.. huh? What?"

The teacher gave him a knowing smile before sliding a file over the table. Of course. Always doing things in a roundabout way. He's seen that before.

"..Thank you."

He takes the file, quickly leaving the classroom afterwards, his legs taking him subconsciously back to where the dorms where as his hands occupied themselves with flipping through the documents.

Halfway through the mission file, Geto feels something slip out from between the pages. He leans forward to pick it up, a knowing smile flashing across his face.

A small packet of fever medicine.

Seems his teacher had the same idea, that Gojo would never go out of his way to get supplies, if at all, when he fell sick. Well, that saved him half the trouble.

And here came the other half.

When Geto returned to their dorm, he noticed the aura of Gojo's technique surrounding himself. It shocked him at first, but Geto figures that in his vulnerable state, Gojo's mind subconsciously casts infinity to keep him safe.

Though.. it could also have been a side effect from all the dangerous missions that they had put him through for the past month, such that his body was on heightened alert even during rest.

Well that's a first.

He hadn't really been around Gojo while he was sick before, especially not to the extent of passing out like that.

Surely this continuous usage of Infinity counted as over-exertion, evident from Gojo's slightly furrowed eyebrows despite him being asleep. His breathing was also choppier than usual, either due to the congestion or disturbed rest.

Surprisingly, Geto noticed that Infinity seemed to thin out as he approached the bed.

He remembers Gojo telling him, "Suguru- you know, I can totally tell apart your cursed energy from others!"

Was Satoru's body really recognising him and relaxing because of it? Guess that whole 'telling apart' thing wasn't a lie after all.

Geto reaches out a palm and presses it against Gojo's forehead. His hand easily passes through the barrier, making contact with the other. The damp cloth lay uselessly by the side of the pillow, having fulfilled its purpose.

Still warm, but cooler than before.

Gojo whines against the touch as he slowly stirs. "Suguruu- you're backk.."

"Mm." Geto hummed in reply, sitting himself by the edge of the bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"Ah.. not really."

The raw honesty catches Geto off-guard, especially compared to the previous few days, where Gojo would wave him off for being too worried, right up till the point he collapsed.

He supposes that upon admitting "I'm not feeling well", Gojo's walls simply crumbled, leaving him in Geto's care.

The mattress shifted as Gojo turned to the side, a wrist coming up to rub at his nose.

"S-Sorry.. I- hh' have t'hH-!! hih'tchh!! haH'zzchh!!"

He sniffles against his wrist, watching with teary eyes as Geto pulls out a small pack of travel tissues from the drawer before handing it to him.

"Th'hH-!! ..thank y-you.. hH'hihchH'iw!! hah'zzdchH!!"

He pulls out a piece, pressing it softly against his nose. Outside, the sun had barely start setting.

"..snff'.. Suguru- why are you here anyway? Don't you have better things to do?"

Better things to do than look after you? Unlikely. And your Infinity will just go up again once I leave. But of course Geto doesn't say that.

Instead, he raises the file in his hand. "Background information on a mission. I'll have to read it eventually anyway, I can do it here, I've got time."

"..A mission?"

"Yes. For the two of us, actually."

"Really?? I get to go with you this time?" Happiness seeped into his words, bringing an unconscious smile to Geto's face.

"Mm, but I doubt they'd let you go in this state."

Without even looking over, Geto swore he could hear the pout in Gojo's voice.

"Aw.. b-but I wna go with you."

"..Then get better. Quickly." Because I don't want to leave without you either. I'm never leaving you alone again if I can help it.

"Sigh- alright, alright.. I'll get some rest."

"Before that.." Geto suddenly remembered, rising to his feet to retrieve a mug. He should probably get Satoru to take the medicine as soon as possib-

Geto hears a crash behind him.

"SAtoru!"

On the floor, Gojo laughs softly at himself, hanging half off the bed.

"S-Sorry-"

"What were you doing?"

Gojo looked almost embarrassed. "Ah.. nothing, honestly.. I just.. I guess I just.. panicked when I saw you get up.. that's all. I thought you were going to leave again.."

Again? ..Oh, right. He had left for the classrooms earlier. Why didn't Satoru just say something before he did? Forget that. Why didn't he notice?

Geto quickly grabbed a mug, filling it with water before he returned to the bedside.

"I'm sorry."

"Hm? Ahh- it's okay, it's okay.. I was just saying silly things."

"No. Don't say that. It's okay to want company, to need company. That's why I'm here, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

"..Why do you sound so reluctant to admit it?"

Gojo shifted again, this time tilting his head away from Geto.

"..Suguru. Am I'm strong?"

"Mm, why the sudden question?"

"..Am I still considered strong if.. if something as simple as a cold can.. can.. hH'..hih'DzchH!! haH'tchHew!! ..snff'.. fuck. I can't even control those."

"I'd honestly be more surprised if you could." Geto replied, bringing the mug up to Gojo's lips. His voice sounded harsh, and the constant sneezes were not helping. "C'mon, look over here, you should drink something."

Gojo sighed, shifting the tissue away to drink from his mouth.

"Take these too."

"..Medicine? Where did you get those from?"

"Sensei."

"Ahh- damn. He really knows everything doesn't he?"

"Anyone on the outside could tell that you were wearing yourself thin, not just him. Shoko had her fair share of worries for you as well."

Gojo remained silent upon hearing that, seemingly very interested in the cup he was drinking from.

Geto felt his heart skip a beat. Had he said something wrong? Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that fact it was obvious.

The silence lasted for a few moments, before Gojo inhaled sharply, turning to the side.

"..hH'-aH'zZchH!! hah-hH'tcHHiw!! hiH'dzZch'w!! hH'!!-..snff- hehh'tchhiw!"

Geto startled at the fit, though he quickly collected himself, eyes focusing on what appeared to be an extremely sorry Gojo.

In his hand was the empty mug, its contents having been spilled all over the blanket from the violent jerks, a side effect of the sneezing.

"..I'm s-orry.."

Geto paused in his actions of retrieving a cloth for the mess. Something was wrong. Satoru had a voice break? No matter how cute it was (god forbid he admit that), he had never heard the other say anything with such a broken tone before.

Forgetting the cloth, Geto quickly returned to Gojo's side, wrapping his arms around the shivering frame of Gojo's body, head resting above his.

Gojo froze in place, shocked at the sudden but welcomed contact. The mug in his hand slowly slipped off his fingers, falling onto the covers. A small whine escaped his lips yet again as Gojo's fingers repurposed themselves with grabbing gently at Geto's arm.

He found himself leaning into the warm embarce, turning his head slightly such that his cheek could rest against Geto's chest.

Gojo had longed for this for days. Days. Days. He could feel tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes. From the cold or from his overflowing emotions? He had no idea.

"Suguru. Come lie down with me, please?"

He didn't need to be asked twice.

Within seconds, Geto had climbed onto the bed, getting comfortable under the covers as he extended a hand to Gojo.

"Come. Leave that side. It's wet." An excuse to get Gojo into his arms.

Gojo crawled over to where Geto was waiting, instantly latching onto the other the moment he got close enough to do so.

As Geto's arms close around him once again, Gojo realised that he had never felt so.. so safe, so.. comforted, before. It was a new feeling, one he was afraid of yet welcomed.

He had only known Suguru for a year, but damn was the guy making him question his own feelings left right and center.

A hand found itself on the back of Gojo's head as he snuggled closer into Geto's chest, burying his nose into the folds of Geto's shirt.

Drowsiness slowly started to take over as Gojo felt like this was the first time in forever he was truly allowed to relax. Was it from the medicine? Or was it from Geto's steady heartbeat that was lulling him to sleep? In all honesty, it didn't matter.

Geto felt Gojo relax in his embrace. Once the stuffy soft snores started to slip into a rhythm, he tilted his head downwards, whispering in a low, soothing voice.

"Satoru, you've been too strong for too long. Let me take over, even if just for a little while."

That was the last thing said for the night, as Geto himself started to drift off into sleep, the sun setting behind him

Unknown to the other, Gojo's lips curled into a smile.

Really.. the things Suguru says when he thinks no one is listening. It was going to be the death of him one day.

-end-

----------------------------------------

Finishing notes:

this fic actually stemmed from the phrase "what if Gojo's Infinity came up by itself when he's sick?" then it.. became.. this.. somehow..

decided to change their roles here ahhh- caretaker Getoo-

maybe i wrote Gojo a little out of character with the amount of clinging he did to Geto (also the whole DON'T LEAVE ME panic of a sick person in bed), but hey. i'm a strong advocate for clingy sick Gojo, sue me.

i also wanted to keep up the soft Gojo writing, soo i tried the whole "strong character falls weak to a cold" trope thing

BUT i also know for a FACT that i was NOT going to be satisfied if i just let Gojo go out like that, so i tried making his collapse scene exclusively *him*

by that i mean i tried making it slightly humorous. ahh well if it ended up not coming out like that.. it's still fine

also wanted to write a whole "Gojo pretending he's alright when he's not" fic, and was trying to capture the whole "once he admits he's not okay, everything comes crumbling down and he's a mess" thing

i feel like a lot more could have been written in this fic.. but the problem was i didn't know how to.. shshhdhshds im getting better i swear (abit more of this in the tags)

i hope the final scene read as soft as i was hoping it would. just picture Gojo sinking into Geto's hug, smooshing his face against Geto's chest, whining a whole bunch, breathing in his scent

..or maybe scratch the scent part, since Gojo's nose is a little congested//

anyway, hope it was a nice read and thankyou for stopping by!!

▪︎•▪︎

[blackicephantom]

A Divine Taste VI *END*

Gepard’s first stop was the place Seele was last and where the blood was supposed to be. Considering the temperature down here and the fragmentum activity, there was a high chance for him to find at least a few clues. Maybe. Hopefully…

Not thinking about the other option he strode forward, always cautious and on guard, steps sure and never faltering. For a good fifteen minutes or so, nothing but the distant sounds of different creatures could be heard. Their grunts, growls and hisses were no different then on the frontline, so he paid them not much attention. As long as they kept away from him, he would keep away from them. The less he had to battle, the better, lest he drew unwanted attention.

After arriving he looked around, paying extra attention to all the places the blood had gone to, as well as the only wall without the red substance. His gloved hand trailed along a deep mark in the brick work, trying to figure out if it was from a prowler's blade or from Sampos' daggers, when a new sound rang through the deadly silent air. First a sound that was out of this world, strange and yet very familiar, a creature that was born from the coldest depths of the Fragmentum and that fed on the cold climate. Fighting  an Ice Out of Space would put him at too big a disadvantage, so he had to make sure to keep as far away from it as humanly possible. Next his ears picked up the steady sound of hooves hitting stone, which could only mean that a Stormbringer was somewhere nearby. Just remembering that cursed, four legged thing made him shudder. Gepard had beat his fair share of these creatures, but ever since the last one he had developed a certain……dislike towards them. This was also the reason he decided to avoid that one as well.

Returning his focus to the battle marks again, looking close at the depth and width of the slash, he was sure these were from the vampire's weapon. He had seen the criminal’s blades often enough, even close up, not to be mistaken. Looking around again he spotted something strange on the ground, just before the path led upward. It was small enough to be almost unnoticeable, but whatever it was clearly didn’t belong there. By closer inspection it almost looked like a shell of some kind……

Startled by that thought Gepard rushed over and picked it up to take a closer look. The smooth, black surface as well as the remains of some paint would definitely fit the older males' famous bombs. Which means Sampo, without a doubt, had been here. And that he had to escape from whatever had decided to interrupt him. But why would the merchant run even deeper into the abandoned town, knowing fully well what could wait for him there? Even more confused than at the beginning, the bold followed his only hint and took the only path available in that direction.

Hours went by and the captain was still no closer to finding his companion, which brought his frustration to absolute new heights. As a leading figure of the military he had to be patient, analytical. He always had to have a strategy at the ready, no matter the circumstances. But the current situation was really testing all those qualities and not in a good way. Swatting another Flamespawn to the ground while crushing one of its siblings with his gauntlet, Gepard froze the Shadewalkers that tried to impale him from the side, before crushing them with his guitar case. “Curse you Koski. You and your damn vampiric abilities.” was the first way he let go of the mounting tension. Night was fast approaching and he still had no further clue where the fuck Sampo was at. Yes, he knew he had to be here in Rivet Town. But the town was vast enough for a single person to be slightly problematic.

Wiping the sweat from his brow the blond looked around what has to be some kind of marketplace, which means he’s pretty much right in the middle of everything. Straining his ears he could still hear the call of the Ice Out of Space somewhere far behind him, the echos more silent then at the start of his exploration. That was good, it means he had gotten farther away from it instead of getting closer. What had him worried however, was the fact he had lost track of the residing Stormbringer….. Ignoring the pit in his stomach he hefted Earthwork higher on his shoulder and turned towards the steps that would lead to the old and abandoned orphanage, the last place before he would circle back around and head back to Boulder Town. Right before he started his way up tho, something big and heavy whizzed by him, hitting the closest wall and leaving it with a shiny new crumbling dent. Slowly turning around Gepard gasped. 

It was not a random Shadewalker or even some other fragmented monster that lay barely conscious between the fallen brick stones. No no, that would have been way too nice or something. Heaving for breath and bleeding from numerous wounds was none other than Sampo Koski, the idiot he’s been looking for. The mentioned injuries were worrisome, without a doubt, but even more troubling were the unfocused and glazed over RED eyes looking straight in the direction he came from. Keeping the rest of his body still the blond only turned his head and wanted to curse whatever Aeon had it out for them.

With its bow at the ready the Stormbringer stomped closer towards them, visor not leaving the fallen vampire for even a second. 

Gepard could feel sweat start to build up all over his body and slowly run down his back and face. Here he was, a single poor human, standing in between an elite Fragmentum monster and an apex predator. Which was bad on so many levels he didn’t even know where he should start. Right then Sampos mesmerizing eyes snapped to him, pinning him in place with their intensity. Only the sound of a scraping hoof distracted the blue haired male, which could only mean one of two things: either it was simply impatient and irritated OR the Stormbringer saw another prey….. Right now Gepard, unfortunately, tended to the second option. And because that was just his life, said creature changed targets and broke into a run, going straight for the Captain.

Like some kind of sick Deja-vu Gepard put down his case, took the powerful kick and was pushed backwards. Just like last time it didn’t let up from him, relentless in its assault and precise with every elemental attack. But unlike a month ago it was not the  Captain that was tired and wounded, so he put up quite a fight. On the first available chance he summoned a shield for both, him and Sampo, and used the distraction the other created  to twirl Earthwork overhead before bringing it down HARD, to call forth a wave of ice. It slammed into the Stormbringers flank with enough force to slightly unbalance it. 

But it was not enough. Turning around way faster than should be possible with its body mass, the monster kicked out, missing the first time and hitting gold the second. The soldier could only watch as his companions eyes grew wide for a moment before closing tight because he was sent flying again. Clenching his teeth, Gepard ignored the blood he had seen the older spit out once he had git the ground.

He couldn't afford losing focus now.

Meanwhile Sampo had serious trouble breathing, spitting out even more blood and unable to get his trembling legs and arms to properly work. What had started out as nothing more than a little stress relief had escalated horribly and in the worst way possible.

After beating every single Shadewalker that had crossed his path he just wanted to look for a place to sit down again. But just as he put away his daggers, something attracted his attention. Once he had realized that one of the Elites had moved towards him, the fucking Stormbringer no less, he had thrown one of his smoke bombs and booked it out of there. But that thing was absolutely relentless in its pursuit and was always hot on his heels. While he was able to get in some rather good hits, he had never been a heavy hitter. Not like, let’s say, Gepard. Just thinking about the blond made the hunger all the more apparent and almost unbearable. His last meal had been almost a whole week ago, some time before he followed the soldier to that damned outpost, and it showed. His reaction time was way slower than normal and his accuracy was also not quite up to standard.

And now throw in the very plain fact his dearest Captain was down here and the chaos was perfect. 

Every fiber of his vampire instinct wanted to cling tight and drink deep, wanted to enjoy the best thing that ever walked on this planet, while his common sense knew that there was something more important and more dangerous they needed to take care of first. In reality though, there is never going to be anything more important than one Gepard Landau for him.

Finally turning over and pushing up on his arms he risked a single look and was just as transfixed by the Captain's maneuvers and battle prowess as the first time he had seen him. Even with that big and sturdy guitar case of his he was damn agile, and all his military training made him overpower most, if not all, of his opponents. Blocking another kick, he immediately did a three-hit combo with Earthwork, before summoning an icicle out of the ground that impaled one of the Stormbringers hindlegs. Using that chance he now aimed for the frontlegs, but before he could actually strike the creature reared up and stomped back down, pushing the blond back with a gust of wind.

Unable to simply watch, Sampo finally struggled to his feet, a little unsteady and clearly swaying, he did everything in his power to stay standing. He knew he was not much of a help like this, their slight role reversal not really lost on him, but if he could give Gep the one chance, that single perfect moment, he damn well will. Breathing as deep as possible he focused every little wisp of wind, every little breeze on one, single point and waited.

On the other side Gepard had watched as the older had finally made it upright again, before the Stormbringer tried to kick him again. Fed up with this shit he clenched his gauntlet clad hand, the mechanism within gearing up, and grabbed one of the descending legs trying to behead him. In a risky and yet smooth movement he guided its movement past his shoulder and down to the ground, freezing it the second it touched down. Thankfully he stood of to the side, meaning he had time to take a small breather, before running to get behind the beast in the hopes to freeze its other limbs. But the thing with these enemies was that they learned, rather quick at that, so that it knew what Gepard had planned.

Charging an arrow and aiming down it was clear what it wanted to do, but Sampo wouldn’t let it. Using his own wind, he deflected the arrow, making it dissipate and drawing the Stormbringers' attention. And boy was it angry, pulling and thrashing and kicking at the thick coldness in hopes of coming free. But as long as said male had enough energy and determination that would never happen. Of course that was the moment karma came to knock again: turning its upper body it fired again, forsaking power for speed, aiming for the other wind user. Sampo wanted to jump aside, dodge somehow, but his body just wouldn’t move and his wind control was flimsy and weak as it was, so there was no way he could take that one. Just about to give up he heard a very pissed off Silvermane Captain “Hell NO.” and another brilliant  blue ice wall stood between him and that arrow. It was like children throwing pebbles at the walls, only that this wall was way taller and was fed by its creators emotions. Shuddering from the blonds' almost growled words he watched through the ice as said male took out first one knee, then the other. Once down on the ground and all limbs now frozen the Stormbringer tried shooting again, but Geppie was now just faster.

First a solid uppercut, breaking its focus and disorienting it, quickly followed by a heavy two-hit combo from the deepest parts of Gepards heart, actually cracking the visor. Blue eyes were burning with so much rage, Sampo was honestly a little perplexed the blond has not caused a snowstorm yet, or something similar. Even with parts of the ice cracking, it just got renewed and Gepard. Just. Kept. Going.

Minutes ticked by as the merchant just watched his dearest showcase his strength, guilt still heavy in his veins, because he was sure part of this outburst was his fault. So he just stood back, hidden behind this solid wall and let the other pummel the poor, immobilized Stormbringer till it was nothing more than a twitching mountain of unrecognizable flesh. Parts of the broken visor still fell to the ground or stuck to Gepards clothes. With every further punch more blood found its way onto his face and uniform, which made Sampo step out at last. Slowly approaching the younger, he hesitated only briefly before gently touching the fist that was ready to  go again.

Coming back from that little episode was like waking from a dream, everything was slow at first, before reality crashed down on him. Stumbling back a few steps Gepard took a few much needed breaths.

Every breath rattled in his ribcage, adrenalin still pumping through his veins and his fingers still twitching from that absolute beatdown. Looking up at the being that was nothing more than a breathing corpse at this point, he tried to gather enough of his usual bearings to give it a swift end. But….. it just won’t happen.

Oh god, it's been ages since he’s lost control like this. But looking at the older male made it clear that he was also in no shape to put it out of its misery, unless……. Just as he wanted to turn away, the vampire's already weak knees gave out and the only thing keeping him from hitting the unforgiving ground were the humans' fast reflexes. Before he could really go down, Gepard had been there to steady him, bringing him 

so very close to the younger's bloodied face. Oh, the things he wanted to do to him…. From licking every last drop of that monster's blood from his pale and handsome face, up to kissing every inch of it right down to biting down and drinking his fill. So lost in that fantasy he didn’t notice the gentle hand delicately holding his cheek. At least until the words finally registered in his starved mind. “Do you…..need some?”

Blinking, the conman was not sure he heard that right. But Geppie was looking away, meaning that yes, he had indeed heard that right. Even after all this shit that happened, Gepard was still willing to share his blood with him? Apparently he hesitated a moment too long, again, for the other tightened his grip before letting go and shaking his head. “Forget I said anything.” Sampo knew without a doubt, if he denied Gepard again, if he refused once more and let this last chance slip by, there would be no saving for this fragile thing between them anymore. But it were his next words that made something just kind of snap:

“Let’s just get back to Natasha’s. Maybe she knows a volunteer or two willing to help you.”

In all honesty, Gepard was not sure where those hurtful words came from. But now he had said them, unable to take them back and ready to just go home. Not even fully turned he was stopped tho, another gloved hand grasping his, fingers trembling and holding as tight as they could. So he waited, even following the gentle pull backwards and only tensing the slightest bit when the arms he has dreamt about wound around his middle and a mess of blue hit the side of his throat. Swallowing, he tried his best to relax and asked, rather timidly  “Sampo?” Instead of an answer he was pulled closer still, the warmth of the taller body slowly seeping through his uniform and right into the skin hidden underneath. He didn’t know what to do with himself. On one side this was exactly what he wanted, on the other was it strange, something not yet right.

A content sigh escaped the hungry male, more than happy to simply bask in the scent of fresh snow and crispy cold air. He nuzzled closer to the tender skin, finally giving in and giving it a small and featherlight kiss. Then one more. And another. Every little kiss climbed higher and higher, from the side of that delicious throat towards a now brightly flushed ear. There he stopped, giving the outer part a sensual lick in parting and a whisper. “If I feed off of you now Geppie, I will not stop till I have completely and utterly devoured you.” He felt the full body shudder, heard the shy little moan and clung even tighter. Oh, how he wanted. How he needed!  Overwhelmed by his need and hunger he started to pull away, just like the last time. But he obviously underestimated Gepard and his own feelings.

Strong hands held him right where he was, one even going as far as pulling his head back down and carding gently through his hair. “What if I told you that I wouldn’t mind?” Arms twitched and breaths stuttered. Gepard slowly turned his head, searching for those blazing red eyes, giving him a bright if slightly sad smile. “It’s time we stop dancing around this, Sampo. A month without your terrible jokes and pickup lines was way worse than being bitten by you.” That one sentence held so much meaning that it robbed the thief of all oxygen. But the Captain was not finished.

In an unusual bold move the blond wiped some of the still drying blood from his cheeks, licked it up, held onto the taller male's chin and gave him a kiss. Not even waiting he pushed his tongue right into the slack mouth of the other, giving him a taste of the one thing he desired the most at the moment. And that was all it took.

Sampo pulled away, Gepard ready for the reprimand or even worse, only to be turned around and pushed into the closest wall, too close to the still dying Stormbringer. But he had no time to think about this, because the vampire was all over him: first he licked up every little bit of monster blood. Not even the smallest speck was left on his skin, After that came a kiss that carried so much desire, longing and desperation that not even little Geppie would be able to misunderstand it. He may be oblivious to most things, but not when it came to Sampo Koski and what his mere presence did to him. Opening his mouth just that little bit wider, allowing their kiss to deepen. Only the need for air pulled them apart, both panting and still unable to let go.  Only the sounds of the almost corpse broke their moment and Sampo was clearly fed up. He reached for Gepards left hand, pulling it up to his lips and putting a kiss on the back. Not hesitating even a single second, he pulled the white fabric of the glove and turned it upward. Locking eyes with his very generous donor he smirked, showing off his gleaming fangs and enjoying the way bright sapphires were unable to look away. “Just a sip to tide me over so that the good doctor will stop nagging.” Another kiss, soft lips pressing down firmly. “And then I’m kidnapping you to eat you whole.” with that he opened his mouth and bit down into the meaty part of the soldier's palm, taking two deep gulps of that overly delicious blood  he had longed for. After licking it clean, savoring that rich taste, he stepped back and snapped his fingers. With that single movement the Stormbringer was nothing more than another forgotten wind that blew through this tragic stricken town.

It was deep into the night when they reached the clinic, Natasha as well as little Hook already waiting for them. Hook didn’t hesitate a single moment before screaming the conmans name and almost running him over, clinging to his legs in hopes to hide her sniffles. Getting down Sampo profusely apologized to the child clinging to him and doing everything to comfort her. Gepard took this time to give the waiting doctor a rough outline of what had happened, not bothering with the last part. She was Wildfire’s leader for a reason and her gray eyes said more than enough, not even subtle in her quest to look for a bite mark. Yet he didn't say anything, letting her look and question  all she wanted, but not getting any closer to the truth she wanted to know. After about half an hour of this she was satisfied and sent them on their way. “Be careful please.” It was just as meaningful as it was embarrassing, especially when Sampo had the guts to give her a cheeky wink, before actually kidnapping him. The look on her face when the older had simply lifted him before vanishing into the night was absolutely priceless and Serval will definitely come to haunt his ass for this, but he didn’t care at the moment. He just laughed and held on for dear life, loving the feeling of Sampo easily holding him and carrying him around.

In no time they were back at his apartment, one nervous and the other giddy but both filled with anticipation and a need like no other. Once the door was open the tension snapped. When the door closed Sampo was already on him, pushing him back against said door and devouring his mouth like no tomorrow. When he gently licked at his still closed lips begging for entrance he could do nothing but obediently open up. Once that wicked, wet muscle found his own he could do nothing much aside from moan and whimper, pulling him closer and pushing up against that solid body. The next moment his back hit the mattress of his bed, hungry eyes looking him up and down and greedy hands slipping under his clothes to get a feel of his flushed skin. Clearly unhappy with the current setting the same hands that had been all over him left again, the blond only just able to swallow the small whimper. “Hush, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.” 

The air was thick with their combined desire and their need to be closer.

Pushing up on his knees, Sampo pulled off his gloves and maroon jacket, before starting to remove the younger's armor and upper uniform. Every bit of skin got kissed, every muscle licked and worshipped.

From those godly abs, up towards that inviting chest where he just had to kiss and play with those rosy little peaks before kissing his way further up. Pausing at the hammering pulse he just couldn’t help himself. He licked a broad stripe over Gepards neck, kissing up and down, up and down, multiple times. Finally allowed to do what he wanted for so long, he didn’t know where to start. So he chose the most obvious: parting with one last adoring kiss the merchant sat up, licking his lips and groaning at the tempting picture before his eyes. Even if they barely did anything the blond was already a mess: lips red and swollen, cheeks flushed a deep and alluring red and those beautiful blue gems he had for eyes hazy and teary. He looked like the perfect meal, so Sampo decided to dig in.

Pulling the human up as well, he changed their positions and sat the other on his lap, pulling him impossibly close. After both had settled into the most comfortable position they kissed again before Sampo returned to his neck, making him gasp and moan when he sucked on certain parts, sure to leave visible marks that his uniform won’t hide. “S-Sampo!” Said male felt almost drunk on the blond, wanting to be even closer, wanting to possess him, devour him, worship him. Shy hands tugged on his hair, trying to get his attention, Wondering what was the matter he pulled back again, only to be pulled right into that pale throat. “Stop playing with your food.” was the trembling demand and it was way too cute and so damn arousing that he could do nothing but follow. A firm kiss was the only warning before his mouth opened wide and sharp fangs dug deep. “Ah!”

First came pain, but mere seconds later a warmth flowed from the bite directly into his veins. It was a feeling unlike anything else he had ever felt. And the very audible way the older swallowed did not help the hotness slowly traveling down his body. Just as unhelpful were those wandering hands, one on his shoulder keeping him still and the other sliding down his back and right to his ass, kneading into the firm muscle and pushing his growing erection right into Sampo’s own. And Gepard could do nothing but cling tight and, with some encouragement, roll his hips. The movements were shy and jerky, like he had never done this before, which made Sampo pause. Swallowing one last time he let go and licked up every last drop, enjoying the rather loud moan that earned him. “Geppie, be honest. Are you a virgin?” 

Shivering from the other’s warm breath he shook his head. When he entered the military he finally had the opportunity to experiment. But he was always the dominant one on those occasions. Once he was made Captain that admittedly fell short and once he had learned of Sampos vampire nature there was no space for someone else. And if his thoughts had strayed to how it would feel to take said vampire….well. That was for him to know and no one else to find out. BIg hands pulled him down with firmer and smoother moves, grinding their hard cocks against each other causing the most delicious friction. Getting rather desperate he wanted to get rid of that revealing, tight shirt the other wore, but got way too easily distracted by the continued grinding till a familiar warmth and tension built right at his navel and he tried to warn the other. “W-Wait! Sampo, i-if you keep going like that-” another firm move interrupted him, bringing him dangerously close to the edge. “Go on. Come.” One last roll of their hips and he came with a high pitched mewl Sampo would treasure forever. That sound was his. and his alone.

Catching the slumping body he gave him a few gentle pats, waiting for him to catch his breath only to see him pouting. And that just won’t do.”What’s wrong darling?” was the tender question. Only to be caught off guard when the soldier just pouted even harder and then buried his flaming face into his shoulder, making him chuckle and coo softly. “Are you embarrassed, Geppie?” By the Aeon's will, he could not understand the mumbled answer. So he slid one hand into those soft blond locks and tugged him away, forcing eye contact. “I asked you something sweetie.” Fidgety fingers toyed with his shirt, tugging on the fabric but not trying to remove it., when he got the quiet answer. “Not embarrassed. But it’s unfair. I want… to touch you too.” Oh this precious man is going to be the death of him. Nimble hands made short work of the dark fabric, pulling the nervous hands first to his lips to give them a kiss and quick nibble, before pressing them firmly against his own chest. “Then touch all you want. I’m all yours.”

The touch was featherlight, almost ticklish, but growing more sure and firmer with every passing second. And they really explored every nook and cranny they were offered, only interrupted by Gepard's own squirming. Quickly catching on, Sampo licked his lips and gave the bite on his neck a slow and tender lick, while his warm hands slid down his body, squeezing that wondrous bottom earning another beautiful sound he couldn’t get enough of. Careful not to scare him he pushed the blond back into the sheets, gleaming eyes locked on their blue counterparts. Slowly, oh so slowly, he went for the belt and zipper, deliberately pressing down on the wet spot right in front of those pristine white pants, causing the other to thrust up and whimper. Not one to leave his partner yearning for long he kissed and bit his path down that well built body, leaving burning marks the whole way down, while slowly pulling the pants and underwear down. Gepard was flushed beyond words, yet lifted his hips unprompted, earning some more kisses in thanks. He’s never been body shy, well aware of his looks, but the vampire's gaze made him want to hide, especially with the sticky mess still clinging to his thighs and slowly reawakening cock. BUt when his hands actually went to obscure the sight, they were snatched away with a firm “Ah-ah, no hiding.” and pinned to the mattress. Giving the new freedom to look all he wanted, the blue haired male made the best of it. He watched as goosebumps grew and that trained abdomen tensed and relaxed in equal measures. It was only when pale thighs wanted to close that he slid right in between, preventing them from doing so. Then he changed his grip on the scared hands he held captive to only one hand of his own, leaving one free to wander to his heart's content. 

Pulling one slender leg further up he could feel his dear soldier start to tense up. “”What are you-” was what the younger started with, but ended in a rather undignified shout when a certain wet muscle started to lick up the traces of his earlier release, not caring what he thought about it. And then he had the audacity to laugh at him right before biting into his thigh, making him shout again. Wanting to keep it at least a little bin down he turned his face away and bit down onto the sheets, soaking them in record time with his spit and sweat. And just when he thought he would be shown mercy, another bite was made. It was deeper than the first and on his other thigh, as if daring him to keep this shit up, which he did, just out of spite. But the longer he muffled himself, the harsher the bites got, until everything was an intoxicating mix of pain and mind numbing pleasure. The bite that finally made him give in was the one closest to his groin. It was by far the deepest, only second to the first one on his neck, and the most painful. Painful enough even to make tears bead at the corners of his clouded eyes, making Sampo pause. But Gepard wouldn’t have it, letting go of the sheets and opening his legs wide in invitation. And that display of trust and submission would be enough to make anyone weak.

Pulling the shorter male close at the hips he pushed his straining, hard bulge right against that soft looking opening, groaning deep in his chest when another sweet little moan answered him. Unable to keep himself in check he did again and again, pushing firmer and firmer with every rolling motion and he would have been able to cum just like that had Gepard not stopped him. “N-Nooooo. Want you inside. P-Please!” 

And who was Sampo to refuse such an earnest request? Flipping the poor Captain onto his belly he pulled him up by the hips, the blond automatically going on all fours and spreading his raw bitten legs as far as they would go. Taking that as another invitation Sampo dug right in, kissing both jiggling cheeks before licking a wet stripe right over that winking entrance relishing in the cute little squeak that he got as thanks. 

Repeating that two more time he pushed his tongue in as far as it would go, causing the beautiful hole to tighten up in hopes of keeping the wet appendage inside. BUt it was of no use as the conman pulled back with another deep groan and slightly breathless chuckle. Looking along that absolute perfect specimen of a man he had one last deep rooted desire before he took the younger absolutely apart. “Hey darling, won’t you help me get sufficiently wet?” was whispered into still flaming ears. Teary blue gems looked at him before closing tight when he did another slow but firm grind.

After rearranging themself again the criminal couldn’t believe his luck. Never would he have thought to ever see the day Gepard Landau, his favorite and most precious human, would ever be in this position: Legs spread wide and ass right in front of his face while going down on him in return. And dear Elation did it feel fantastic. His mouth was warm and wet, hollowing his cheeks with every upward suck and swirling his tongue over his sensitive tip. This is what heaven must feel like, he was sure.

Not forgetting the purpose of this whole thing, he went back to the task at hand, having successfully found the well used lube the blond absolute refused to talk about.

Putting a generous amount of the slick substance on his fingers, he slowly circled the tightly furled opening, before carefully pushing a single digit inside and pulling and pushing before going for another.

He took his time with the prep, not wanting to hurt the younger in a way he would enjoy, even if the enthusiastic sucking was getting really distracting. Three fingers in and he had sweat running down his temple. Pushing all three digits in deep he crooked them upwards, hitting a special spot head on and earning him the sweetest sounding moan so far. He did that another two times, always with the same result, before slowly pulling out and turning the other over again.

Getting rid of his own pants and underwear he positioned himself right at that wet and waiting entrance, looking deep into those sapphires he loved so dearly. “Ready?” Instead of giving a verbal answer, the Captain simply wound his arms around those broad shoulders and held on for dear life. Taking that as his cue, Sampo slathered his painful erection in lube and slowly slid into that tight heat. And what a feeling that was. All that stretching and teasing made for a smooth and easy glide, the thief sliding in with one single thrust. Having that tightness around his most sensitive part, coupled with Gepards low and deep moans and mewls drove him insane. And even if he wanted to give his dearest a chance to adjust to the intrusion, he just couldn’t.

Slowly pulling out almost all the way, he waited a second, before thrusting back inside. Everytime he would go as far as he could, gaining speed and changing the angle until- “AH!” There it was.

Grunting with the effort, he rolled his sweetheart onto his side, putting one leg over his shoulder and gaining more leverage, which made thrusting harder way easier. He could see that the poor blond was close again, so he decided to help him along and give him the best orgasm of his life. Knowing that said blond seemed to have a kink for his bites, this would be the most mind blowing thing to happen to him.

Leaning over him, pushing his leg as far as it would go, he put all his strength in his thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin so very loud in the stuffy room. Kissing along the already bruising throat Sampo listened to the sore screams of his love, taking in every moan, groan, mewl and whimper and committed it to memory. When he felt the shorter male start to tighten around him and his screams getting just that much louder, he opened wide again. And just as the other crested, he dug his fangs in deep and took another gulp of that addictive liquid drug, now even sweeter with his orgasm. Not too far behind he gave another two or three deep thrusts, before spilling himself deep inside with a dark and rumbling growl.

Basking in the afterglow he pulled slowly out, trying not to push the younger into overstimulation, which was hopeless from the very beginning. Body absolute boneless Gepard just fell back, panting and sweat starting to cool on his still heated skin, unable to do anything put whimper at the feeling of the vampire’s spent slowly oozing out of him.

Eyes that had finally gone back to their jade color watched for one predatory minute as his own cum spilled out of that well fucked hole, before snapping out of it and grabbing a lukewarm, wet towel from the bathroom to wipe them down with. It won't get rid of everything, a bath or shower necessary come morning, but for now it was enough. Once as clean as he would get them, he pulled the dozing blond to the side that looked the cleanest and kept him close. Grabbing the blanket he tugged them in, nuzzling close and returning the sweet kiss he was offered.

They still had things to talk about, sure. But that could wait until morning, maybe even after breakfast.

Maybe even after he got one more bite of that divine taste.

-END- 

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[spacexseven]

small world

this was really fun! i love skk dynamics theyre so <3 this is a bit chuuya heavy bc of my Very Big crush on him :> i tried to keep their relationship here as vague as possible bc i wasnt sure if the requester wanted them to be involved w e/o as well, so its open to interpretation :D

request from anon: y! chuuya + dazai working together to get their gn! darling

cw: stalking, tracking devices, breaking in and bugging apartment, mentions of kidnapping but it doesn't happen here, manipulative behavior

“dazai,” despite the wind whipping past chuuya as he raced down the empty street on his bike, dazai could hear the venom in his voice loud and clear, “are you sure they’ll be there?” 

he doesn’t bother with a helmet, or any sort of safety gear. he has one with him, just in case, but he's never needed it, not when he has the familiar red glow of his ability and his agile reflexes.

“chuuya,” dazai whines—he whines, as if he’s a child instead of a grown man actively tracking an unsuspecting victim while in said victim's apartment, "don't you trust me?" 

he can picture the scowl on chuuya’s face, even though dazai can’t see him. chuuya is predictable like that, but dazai doesn't mind. it makes riling him up more fun. while waiting for a response, dazai busies himself with fixing the second unnoticeable camera. so far, so good—he had placed it so well that it practically blended in with the walls and ridges, even he wasn't sure that he'd spot it if he wasn't actively looking for the camera.

“no,” chuuya spits out, “if this is a set-up like last time, i'll kill you, bastard."

dazai smiles faintly, a mischievous, knowing, smile, his eyes momentarily drifting away, following the blinking dot on the screen, “you can always try.”

chuuya makes a noise similar to a snarl, but it’s muffled by the furious howling of the wind. neither of them say anything after that, not even when chuuya begins to slow down his borderline reckless driving, coming to a stop near the corner of a deserted street. the street lamps begin to flicker ominously—a silent warning, but nobody heeds it.

he walks away from his motorcycle, glancing back at it once with a little sigh before he melts into the shadows and creeps over the unkempt pavement. he’s disgusted by how dirty the place is, abandoned shop lots with broken windows and peeling paint, overflowing trash cans with suspiciously colored things starting to grow on top, and the garishly graffitied walls. what on earth were you doing in a place like this?

“they seem to have wandered off,” dazai’s voice floods his earpiece, as though the other had read his mind, “couldn’t sleep again, i suppose?”

that wasn’t anything new, but coming this far away from your place? he loathes how unwary you could be, but if it weren’t for that, he might not have so many 'random' opportunities to bump into you and charm you as a mysterious, fleeting stranger; your own guardian angel, coming to guide you back home and send you off safely. chuuya unconsciously clenches his fists. as much as he scorns dazai sometimes, he really is grateful for his help—without his plan to plant a few inconspicuous little tracking devices, how could they have been there to protect you? 

“they’re close by,” dazai continues, “go on, now.”

chuuya had asked dazai before why it was always him who was sent prowling the streets for your wandering figure. he couldn’t exactly complain about it, after all, any opportunity with you was a blessing, but wasn’t it unfair? dazai would never give himself a disadvantageous position, so there had to be something else he was planning. he already knew dazai was slowly worming—sly, scheming bastard that he was—his way into your life, showing up to where you worked often enough that you were familiar with his face, but not exactly friendly with each other. he's racked his mind countless times over the question before, but each answer he came up with didn't satisfy him. dazai's own answer wasn't very helpful either,

"so, you know," he had said, causally sipping on his drink, "if anything goes wrong i could easily blame you and run over to charm them off their feet."

at seeing chuuya's seething expression, he grinned, "i'm kidding! you're just, more likable than me. if i saw you in the middle of an abandoned road at night, i totally wouldn't suspect you of anything bad! you're too short to be threatening, and, too pretty."

chuuya stopped questioning dazai's motives after that. whatever it was, he had promised they would get to share you, and that was enough for him.

chuuya glances around, looking for a figure he had ingrained into his memory by now, but to no avail. before he could ask dazai anything, a voice cuts through the tranquil silence, causing him to tense up.

"chuuya?"

he turns around to see you, eyes shining with relief even in the darkness, the warm smile on your bitten lips filling his heart up with joy again. he quickly relaxes his posture, trying to look as casual as possible, and nonchalantly raises a hand back to you.

"hey," he tucks his hand back into his pocket, "what brings you out here? thought you had given up your nightly sightseeing?"

after a particularly spooky experience the last time he saw you out (thanks to dazai's thorough planning), you had shakenly told him you'd never go out during the early hours again. he thought you'd make good on your promise too, and that was partially why he was so worried when dazai had called him an hour ago, ushering him to your location. regardless, the situation turned out to be a blessing in disguise, providing the perfect chance for dazai to sneak in and work on some things while you were occupied with chuuya.

"yeah, well," you exhale, rocking back and forth. were you nervous around him? "i was hungry, and there's this place near my apartment so i was sure i could get there, but," you hesitate, "i must have gotten lost. what about you?"

chuuya lazily gestures to the vandalized walls behind him, "i came to watch out for whoever's been doing this. it's been going on for a couple of days now, and i'm sick of getting it repainted."

you nod, assessing the damage for yourself. it wasn't really a lie, this area was actually part of the port mafia's turf, and there had been someone trashing the walls despite how many times they painted over it. you didn't know what he worked as, of course not, but you had never really asked him either. he was glad for it because he didn't want to lie to you more than he already had. dazai had told him to be careful about revealing his identity too in case it ended up scaring you away. they couldn't have that, after all the careful observations and risky ventures to get to this point, close enough to know where you would be but careful enough to make sure you never suspected anything. it would be a terrible waste if things went south and they'd just lock you up immediately. initially, that had been the plan, but dazai decided that this approach, albeit rather slow, would be more effective.

chuuya watches you worry at your bottom lip, looking anywhere but at him. dazai's voice, in his ear, is urging him on to offer to bring you home. he's seriously considering it too, but before he can say anything, you surprise him by speaking first.

"have you had anything to eat yet?"

he blinks, processing your sudden question. dazai is hissing at him to say no, but he can't seem to hear, or comprehend anything that isn't the sight of you with your back to the bright moon. he thinks the light behind you makes you look like you were glowing, a sort of halo—fitting for an angel like you.

"chuuya?" he's brought back to reality, quickly assuring you that no, he hadn't, and actually, he was going to go get something to eat just now.

you smile at him, a little shyly, and—"in that case, do you want to get something to eat together? i'll let you pick!"—and chuuya is once again, mesmerized.

he can faintly make out the noises of dazai cheering, but can't find it in himself to tell him to quiet down, not when his own heart was pounding louder than ever before. he knows he must look a fool, eyes wide and unable to form a cohesive reply to such a simple suggestion, but he can't help himself. you've always had that effect on him, since the first time he laid his eyes on you.

"sounds good," he finally says.

"awe," dazai croons in his ear, "they're going to get on the bike with you, chuuya!" by now, he has become rather good at blocking out dazai's voice. he's already flustered enough as it is, and the unnecessary commentary wasn't really helping him stay calm.

he gestures to his bike and brings out the helmet he's never used, internally thanking dazai for his insistence that he should keep one with him. you make your way over to him, glancing over the crude drawings on the wall. his hands tremble with excitement, and he can already feel himself get feverish with exhilaration while he carefully slips the helmet on you, despite your feeble protests that you could do it yourself. when you climb on behind him, he can feel his face get so red, about to explode just like his delirious, uncontrollable heart.

"bring them to our usual place," dazai advises him, "i'll be there."

that was....a great idea, really. a convenient way to introduce you to the knowledge that dazai and chuuya were familiar with each other. chuuya went much slower than he usually would to not startle you, and to give dazai some time to get there before he did, but he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to have your arms wrapped tight around him as he raced down the street.

fortunately, he makes it to the designated place without losing himself to his delightful fantasies. from outside of the modest restaurant, he can see dazai already seated at a table near the back. if you're surprised that such an ordinary-looking place was open at this time of the night, you don't show it, merely waiting for him to guide you. he likes this feeling, it was almost as though you were already dating, this simple but intimate action of taking off the helmet for you and brushing back your hair. maybe he's being too forward, but you don't protest, just looking at him with that soft smile of yours that sends his heart and mind into a frenzy. you don't look worried, but maybe if you knew just how deep his—and dazai's—affections ran for you, you would have been.

he guides you inside, not even acknowledging the staff. they, too, knew better than to interrupt chuuya, seeing who he was heading towards. you've unconsciously moved closer to him, and it makes his heart swell with pride. you felt safe with him, didn't you?

from across the room, a tall figure stands up, waving in your direction. you stare at him, trying to figure out where you've seen him before. those bandages, that hairstyle...it was all too familiar, but you couldn't place your finger on it.

"chuuya!" the person cries out, "i didn't think i'd see you out here so late!"

chuuya only walks over to the person, bringing you along, "we came to get something to eat," he explains, and turns to you "this is dazai, a good friend of mine."

he's not used to the lack of bickering between him and dazai, despite them only greeting each other, but knows you might be a little overwhelmed if you saw them go at each other's throat, even if there was no real malice behind it. to ease you in, they had a silent agreement to be on their best behavior.

"chuuya's mentioned you before, but i didn't think i'd get to meet you so soon," dazai says, then he pauses for a moment, scrutinizing you closely, "hm? wait, have we met before?"

there's a long pause, before your eyes light up and you visibly perk up, "you've stopped by the place i work at before," you say, "i think there's where i recognized you from."

chuuya straightens up immediately, "you mean, they're the reason you keep going back to that place?"

dazai has to make a conscious effort to hold himself back at your flustered expression, delighted by the reaction that chuuya's lie prompted. how were you so effortlessly perfect?

"he doesn't bother you, does he?" chuuya leans over, ignoring dazai's exaggerated gasp, "i know he can be a little obnoxious at times."

"no, not at all," you shake your head, "he's really nice, and tips well."

dazai preens at your words, looking rather smug. chuuya only eyes him suspiciously while someone walks over to take their order.

"so, do you two often meet up so late?"

"i can't sleep sometimes," you explain, "so i just like to walk outside but i tend to get lost. funnily enough, i manage to run into chuuya each time!"

dazai feigns a look of worry, "but that really can't be safe? i don't mean to overstep, but this is yokohama, and...."

you nod, "i've been pretty lucky that i keep running into chuuya, and i'm safe with him," you don't notice the looks they share between themselves.

"very lucky," dazai echoes, "considering how you don't even have his number, and just keep meeting him coincidentally."

chuuya has a good understanding of what dazai was trying to do, but he's not sure if you'll fall for the bait. when you don't actually say anything, opting to reach over for your drink that just got placed, he can't help but feel disappointed. things were moving awfully slow, slower than he had expected.

you and dazai continue to make small conversation, meaningless things that the other man already knew, but chuuya finds it a little amusing that you had no idea how dazai was in your apartment the moment you left it, and he had definitely looked through your things. still, chuuya takes a note of the things you say anyway, grateful for any sliver of information you grace him with. if it's about you, he wants to know everything.

when it's finally time to go, you follow chuuya out. it's almost like a routine by now for him to drop you off, and he desperately craves the domesticity the action brings him. he's done this so often that the drive back to your home feels like second nature, not even having to think about the directions. while he knows dazai is meticulous in his work, he can't help but wonder if you'd find what he had done to your place.

when he comes to a stop outside your building, he already finds himself already beginning to miss you. how much longer does he have to wait until he can have this all the time? as you begin to walk away, his heart feels heavier. at least back home he can see the results of dazai's task today, even if he can't see you there in person.

"chuuya," you stop his racing thoughts, "do you mind giving me your number?" he must have made his shock obvious because you rush to explain yourself—not that you needed to. he would gladly give you anything you asked for, "i was thinking about what dazai said earlier, and it would be nice, i think."

he takes your phone from your outstretched hand wordlessly, typing his number with quivering fingers. when you thank him and pull him into a close embrace, chuuya is frozen in place. he tries desperately to burn this moment into his mind forever, hoping to forever remember the emotions stirring up in him and the feel of your arms around him.

on his way back, dazai is back to happily chatting away in his ear, telling chuuya that he wouldn't believe what you were up to after you got back. chuuya only smiles. the wait was truly worth it.

[helpimhyperfixating]

Sneak Attack In Morioh - Jotaro x Reader

Word Count: 1767

The Speedwagon Foundation had silently snuck you into Morioh on the same boat as Mr. Joestar. The only difference was no one was awaiting your arrival. Spending the entire time in the hull, you waited and bided your time until you could silently and unnoticeably slip off board and into Morioh.

There was something going on in S-city and since Morioh was located not too far from it, you had been put on the same boat, only to travel to S-city at night.

That was the plan at least.

Slipping from the hull onto the deck, you looked over the docks, only to freeze in your steps. The one person you didn't want to encounter in your trip through Morioh was standing right there, looking out at sea.

Jotaro Kujo, your longtime friend.

You and him had been through hell and back together. First in high school, then fighting DIO, then college and other roaming Stand users; you went through it all with him. So, if he knew you were here and where you were going, he would either try to stop you, or want to come with you. Neither were a viable option at the moment. If he were to spot you, his stubbornness and persuasive abilities would certainly mean your stealth mission would end. And so you immediately brought out your Stand, manipulating the light and making yourself invisible.

You knew Jotaro knew your Stand better than anyone else. Almost as well as you did. So you knew you had to hightail it out of there before he figured out you were there, despite the fact that you were near invisible to the naked eye.

With a quick move you hopped off the boat and stayed low as you ran, making near to no noise as you got out of there, Jotaro never moving from his spot by the water.

- - - -

Running through the streets, you looked behind yourself only to barrel straight into someone.

The sudden impact caused you to lose concentration and your Stand dissipated, fading back into your body after releasing the invisibility.

"Ow." You whined childishly as you had landed harshly on your butt. Looking up, you saw a man with green hair and stylish clothing. His face held an expression of shock before it turned more serious, glaring at you - or more precisely, where your Stand had been.

Immediately getting up you looked at him with slightly widened eyes. He was most definitely a Stand user.

Taking note of his stance, you jumped into a defensive pose. And you were right to, for not even a second later, the man jumped forward.

"Heaven's Door!"

A Stand popped out from him but you were faster. Jumping backwards, you vaulted onto your hands and pushed yourself as far away as possible, summoning your Stand to send a glare of light at him and blind him so you could run away.

You had no time for this right now, if you weren't at the train station in 4 minutes you'd miss the train and have to wait until the morning for another, meaning missing your target and also being at risk of being discovered by those in Morioh. And so you booked it.

- - - -

Eight hours. That was all it took for you to complete the mission you were given. Someone had stolen important research from the Speedwagon Foundation and you were tasked with bringing it back. When you arrived at the scene, relief washed over you to see they had not been able to crack the lock of the briefcase where the information was in yet.

Getting only minimal injuries, mainly a knife cut on your arm from one of the scientists when you first took hold of the briefcase, you got out of there in record time without setting off any further alarms or causing more uproar.

All in all, a mission well done.

And now here you were, handing the briefcase over to the people of the Speedwagon Foundation on the boat.

"Thank you, Miss L/N. We are departing in about an hour."

"That's alright. I think I'm going to stay here in Morioh though, you never know when you might need an extra ally. So I'm going to stay here and help Dr. Kujo."

"Very well. Stay safe."

"You too!" You waved at the man before sprinting away from the docks.

It was now about 9AM and you figured it was about time to visit your friend. A perfect plan then came into your mind. This man had never been scared or surprised. No matter what you tried, everything failed. But now? He had no clue you were here. This time it should work! Right?

Using your Stand to turn yourself invisible again, you walked into the town, only to see the green-haired man again. He was talking to a kid with a pompadour while looking very disgusted.

Curious, you snuck closer.

"I need Mr. Kujo's phone number." Holy shit you hit the Jackpot. "I encountered a Stand user last night but she disappeared almost immediately. She has to be on the loose here somewhere." Ah, that's less fortunate.

"Why don't I phone him and we can meet up."

"Oi, Josuke!"

Two boys came running up to the pair you were observing, one of them very short while the other had scars over his face.

This was getting very busy now so you moved back a little bit. Letting them all do their thing. The one named Josuke phoned Jotaro and you saw him nod a few times before hanging up and motioning the others to follow.

Taking that as your que, you silently moved along, staying far enough away to not let any possible sound you made be noticed, but close enough that you wouldn't lose them. You didn't concern yourself with their conversation because it wasn't really your business, and if they were talking about you being enemy? Well then that would have to do for now. That misconception would hopefully be cleared up soon.

Following them for twenty minutes, you reached a hill and all the way at the top, you could already see your target waiting there.

Making sure you stayed behind the small group of boys you had been following, you hid completely from his view to make sure he really wouldn't spot you. There were very few signs how you could see where you were when invisible, but Jotaro knew them all. So, hiding was your best bet.

As you approached though, you could feel the maniacal grin growing on your face. You were on a hill. It was prime material to jump him and push him down it. Now that had to surprise him for sure, right?

Just then, they all congregated and you focused back on the here and now.

After sharing a few greetings, the green haired man got straight to the point. "Last night I encountered a Stand user. They bumped into me and I saw their Stand. When I tried to use Heaven's Door they somehow were fast enough to jump back and escape my range before blinding me and disappearing."

"They anticipated Heaven's Door?" The short one spoke up while you walked a little backwards, positioning yourself there where you could perfectly have a running start at the man in white. There was a gap between the green haired man and the one named Josuke for some reason but it provided you with a perfect path right towards your target.

"They must have. So it is safe to bet they know of our abilities. And now they're just roaming around, somewhere out there."

"Rohan." Jotaro interjected and you quickly got in a stance, ready to go. "You said they blinded you and disappeared? How?"

Knowing that if you didn't hurry you'd be exposed, you ran.

"Indeed. There was a glare of light and-" Whatever Rohan was about to say was interrupted when Jotaro suddenly flew backwards, the exact Stand user they had been talking about appearing out of thin air, having tackled the marine biologist.

Jotaro let out a noise of surprise, summoning Star Platinum and using the World mid-air before looking down to see you, a giddy yet evil grin on your face.

The utter surprise at seeing you actually here caused him to have no time left to do anything else so when time started moving again, he just fell down, making contact with the hill as he started rolling down it together with you.

"Mr. Jotaro!"

"Mr. Kujo!"

"Ah!"

Several shouts of surprise rang out as the two of you barrelled down the hill but you quickly came to a stop, you on top of Jotaro and laughing while Jotaro was on the bottom still a little stunned.

Quickly sitting up so you were sitting on his stomach, you pumped your fists in the air, shouting. "Fucking gottem!!!"

The Duwang, who had been running down the hill to reach the two of you, stopped in their tracks, seeing such a dumb yet lighthearted display.

They were even more surprised when Star Platinum appeared and lightly pushed you to the side, causing you to face plant in the grass while Jotaro stood up, completely unharmed.

"Oi, Jotaro that was mean!" You said as you lifted your face from the grass.

"It's your own fault." Was all he said back as he dusted himself off before looking over his back at his coat and sighing loudly. "You ruined my coat."

"Hehe, sorry. But hey, admit it, I got you! Surprised to see me here?" You waggled your eyebrows.

"Consider me confounded." He deadpanned and you pouted. "Josuke, do you mind?" He turned to the pompadour kid and said kid seemed to snap out of his stupor, stepping forward and bringing out his Stand for Jotaro, never really taking his surprised eyes off of you.

You watched the Stand remove all the green grass stains from his coat and softly 'ooh'ed at it, in awe by the Stand.

"Alright, who are you?" Rohan then glared at you and you squeaked a little at the hostility in his look.

"This is Y/N L/N, an old friend of mine." Jotaro introduced you, motioning his hand to you.

Slyly smiling to yourself, you grabbed onto his hand, making him turn his head to face you and sigh, getting your meaning as he pulled you up from the ground without any visible effort.

"Friend?!" Josuke exclaimed in shock while you let go of Jotaro's hand, dusting yourself off.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

[aizawaslovebot]

Hello idk if you’ll see this or if you’re still accepting request but I wanted to know if you can do an angst male reader where he’s really close to yachi as friends and plays volleyball with the karasuno boys but like he’s ignored and pushed to the side and no one really notices until he leaves the team and moves to Tokyo only to later join the nekoma team and they actually pay attention to him and he kinda has a run in with his old team latter. Sorry if it’s confusing this is my first ask😅

—shadow on the moon

[nekoma x m! reader | karasuno x m! reader]

synopsis: perhaps they relied too much and gave back too less, and this was karma's sign of ending the cycle.

warnings: angst, self-depreciation, + hmm i feel like it's lackluster because i couldn't imagine karasuno doing something like this

words: 1350

—note: i couldn't write the reunion part? idk why i've rewritten it a few times now but i'm not satisfied ㅠㅠ if you want something changed, please tell me!!

<- go to navigation | go to haikyuu m.list ->

It was ambitious of you to dream of becoming heard when they couldn’t even spare you one glance. 

You didn’t want to place the blame on the team. It wasn’t their fault that you’ve always been hardly in the limelight. It wasn’t their fault that you’ve always been a wallflower. It wasn’t their fault that you could easily be outshined by anyone in the team. 

It was, however, their fault for their inability to notice your presence no matter how hard you tried.

As a middle blocker in Karasuno, it was appalling how they failed to acknowledge you and your prowess— to the point that you even doubted you had the ability to block for the team at all. Communication has never been easy for an introvert like you, who always depended on the possibility of some extrovert adopting you into their social circle. So despite the overflowing hurt built up on the prospect of being casted to the sidelines, always shoved to the benches as a warmer, you were unable to voice anything out. 

This arrangement continued even through your second year with the team. Heck, it even got worse— with the way Hinata, who, no matter how small, easily got the attention of everyone, and Kageyama, a naturally-born genius with a career ahead of him, you were easily overshadowed by first years of all people. 

Truthfully, you should’ve been in Nekoma High right now. At the end of your first year at Karasuno, your dad was promoted and was given the privilege of an apartment in Tokyo for easier access to his new work. You were very naive to push the move to months later, desperately hoping for at least acknowledgement from the team, that they recognize you as one of their middle blockers. 

It wasn’t the case at all. Were you that replaceable? Were you that insignificant to the team? Were you that unnoticeable? Were you so useless that they won’t even miss you at all? 

Perhaps he could take back that last thought. 

A very kindhearted first year managed to notice you, introvertedness and all. Yachi Hitoka had come to be someone very dear to you, someone who had always been ignored. You were not used to the attention she gave you but you managed to get used to her warmth. The way she’d greet you first out of anyone in the gym or the way she fretted whenever you needed to be bandaged on the rare days you get to play— everything about her was warm. 

And you’d be forever grateful for the kindness, the attention, and the love she had extended for someone as unnoticeable as you. 

Sadly, all the tears can’t be prevented. Even as Yachi rushed to see you one last time before your departure, nothing can’t stop the inevitable partition between a wall-flower like you and the continuously developing crows. You couldn’t help noticing the way only she had come to see you one last time, but you swallowed it all once you remembered you chose not to tell anyone else. 

It’s not like they cared anyway. 

But, there’s no use dwelling on the past. You’re far happier where you are today— with a family who always made it upon themselves to vocalize their recognition for the immense talent you had. 

You had met the members of Nekoma twice: on that one game on the last day of golden week and during the training camp in Tokyo. Sure, you weren’t actually given the chance to play that much but you were beyond amazed at their prowess. No one seemed to outshine anyone in the team and everyone worked harmoniously regardless of their skill level. What you silently wished for, the chance of having a team like that, actually came true. 

The day you joined them was memorable, far more memorable than you’ve ever imagined. 

“Y-You’re K-Karasuno’s middle blocker!” Number 7, Inuoka, you think, gasped when you entered the gym with Coach Nekomata and Coach Naoi.

Taken aback at how you, of all people, were easily recognized, you staggered in embarrassment. You hid behind Coach Naoi which caused the two coaches to snort or laugh because of your actions.

Lev perked up in curiosity, vaguely remembering a middle blocker from the last training camp who, despite the way he stood out from the rest, wasn’t actually a starter. Stumbling like a deer who was recently born into the world, Lev ran up to you with sparkling eyes. However, it was really a scary sight if anyone were in your shoes. 

“Why are you at Nekoma? Why weren’t you a starter? How come I’m taller than you but you’re better? Is there a se—” Yaku, the one who was like Suga-senpai, grinned wryly and dragged the excitable first year away from you after he apologized. 

After hearing the coach’s announcement regarding your transfer, Kuroo smirked. 

“It looks like Karasuno carelessly let someone as talented as you go.”

Judging from the way you flinched, Kenma immediately concluded there was more to it so he kicked the captain’s shin without regard. 

“A-ah… They don’t really notice me at all,” was your quiet reply, which took everyone by surprise. 

“EHH?! Well, we’ll take care of you! Welcome to Nekoma, (L-(L/N)-san!!” Yamamoto cheered, though he faltered when he shyly uttered your name. 

The team was far more accepting, you mused, as you were unable to stop the comparison from your former team. It wasn’t that Karasuno was all high and mighty— they just couldn’t make it feel like you were a part of them and for so long, you figured it was because of how you were behind everyone else. 

Nekoma reminded you that despite that, if that were really the case, you weren’t alone. They like to exaggerate by saying you were really talented, and you were, and it made you feel like you were having progress— like you were part of the family. 

While you slowly began to progress from your past, the flock of crows weren’t doing so well. In fact, they weren’t doing good at all. When Yachi arrived to practice, right after the day you left, no one could deny the drop in her mood. Something was wrong but no one could place it. 

Their ignorance only made Yachi even sadder. 

Their realization came later than anyone ever wanted. No one could deny the decline in their defense. After all, they had always been too complacent— relying on the shadow of which they were sure was there to block in place of others. Perhaps they relied too much and gave back too less, and this was karma’s sign of ending the cycle. The shadow of which they relied on has found its light, leaving everyone else in the dark. 

The quality of Karasuno’s plays slowly declined and it shone through during their practice match with Dateko before they leave for Tokyo. There’s nothing they could do though. After hearing from Kenma that their middle blocker transferred to them— to their fated rival, of all people— the mood amongst the members dropped. They can’t be like the protagonists in coming of age movies where limits are non-existent or main characters who, despite all odds and flaws, get to reunite with their love interest. They know that they’re living in reality and reality has made it a point to tell them how big of a mistake it was to underestimate you, your skills, and your being.

No one would expect, not even Coach Ukai or Coach Takeda, that you had been so hurt all this time. All they could do is wait for the day that the fated rivals battle it off in court, and this time, you stand on the opposite side. 

It was ambitious of you to dream that you would be heard, but not a single soul can stop a dreamer from reaching their goals. It was ambitious to dream that they would finally realize your worth but you succeeded. So as they weep in regret and sorrow over their late revelation, you finally stand proud with the family you always wanted.

—reblogging helps, thank youu!!

[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.

[kyoomiii]

♡ Weight Insecurity [hcs]

-  ➣. . . ❝ can i request the weight insecurity with sugawara, nishinoya, kenma, and bokuto?  ❞

― requested by: @ anonie ​ ―

- ✎ characters ❝ sugawara, nishinoya, kenma, and bokuto ❞

- [ trigger warning(s): heavy mentions of insecurity ]

- ⚘ genre ❝ fluff, angst ❞

❝ i’m so sorry you had to wait so long anonie. but i hope you enjoy this~ 

๑•́ㅿ•̀๑)ﾉ also i may or may not have gone a little overboard on bokuto’s... 

oopsie ❞

-kyo ♡

The gentle breeze that flows through the warm spring air is delightful against your skin, Sugawara’s small hums to an unknown tune filling the space as the two of you walk hand and hand to the vending machine. 

Despite the relatively quiet atmosphere, you don’t feel the least bit uncomfortable, rather the opposite really. But, then again there was always something about Sugawara that was so welcoming and soft- even mere strangers couldn’t help but fall into his warmth.

Your gaze trails aimlessly, the thought dancing in your head as you listen to his hum. Quietly, your eyes begin to wander over his features almost absentmindedly.

It’s then you begin to truly realize- The boy is absolutely beautiful. Whether it be his smooth unblemished skin or the tiny little beauty mark that’s settled right next to his eye. His appearance is nothing short of a delicate beauty. 

The longer you stare, the more you come to realize just how unreal his beauty is, something so pure seemed to belong to nothing short of a prince from a fairy tale. And though it never bothered you in the first place, you find yourself growing anxious.

Anxious because while you know Sugawara is beyond breathtaking, as shown in his countless admirers from all grades. You’d never truly realized just how gorgeous he is- and though you put him above wanting someone solely based on their appearance, you feel as though he could definitely do better- and maybe one day he will.

And now, as you come to a stop, despite being far from close to the vending machine. The loud thundering of your heartbeat drums through your ears. 

You can only watch as a girl- perhaps a 2nd year, catches Sugawara’s attention. Cheeks flushed, and hands folded neatly in front of her. Her lips are moving, but you can’t seem to catch what she’s saying. She’s pretty, big doe eyes, small, and thin- a delicate beauty, just like him.

Drifting in your own thoughts, you don’t even seem to notice as she walks away, somewhat dejected, though seemingly not too upset. 

“y/n? Is something wrong?”

The sudden call of your name startles you, but you can’t say that you weren’t expecting it, after all his observation skills are one of the many things you love about him, and with that you know there is no use lying. 

“Koushi- am I pretty?”

Wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, he can’t help but stop his tracks, his eyes carefully watching as you observe the retreating girl. 

“Oh y/n...Of course, you are. What makes you think you aren’t?”

“...I-... Well. I just think you could find someone better… You know, someone who is prettier- I mean, I’m not exactly… As beautiful as you are. And I think you deserve someone who fits that. Someone breathtaking and… thin.”

Not once, throughout your entire ramble do you look at him. Your eyes seemingly glued to the direction in which the girl has left.

But even so, Sugawara cups your rounded cheeks in each of his hands. His movements are slow and calculated as he turns your attention back to him. 

Hazel eyes boring into your own, and suddenly you feel vulnerable. Stripped bare to your insecurities, as his eyes, search what seemed to be the deepest spaces of your mind.

And though you don’t take your eyes off him. You are caught completely surprised as he places a gentle kiss to your lips, his thumbs caressing the soft plump skin of your cheeks as he takes the air from your lungs before pulling away slowly, and carefully as if you were glass.

“You are beautiful just the way you are okay? I love you and only you, and no one can change that, because you are gorgeous both inside and out and I am so so so lucky to have found you.  So please y/n… Try not to put yourself down like that ever again. You are amazing, and I’ll make sure you see that every day of our lives.”

The sound of volleyballs hitting the hardwood flooring followed by the shouts of teenage boys seemed to be nothing more than background noise. Your mind too adrift to focus on the intense practice happening just before your eyes. 

Instead, you find yourself completely entranced by her. How someone could hold such an elegant beauty was something you felt you’d never be able to understand. Even in the almost suffocating heat of the gym, and the faint smell of sweat, she looked completely flawless- almost as if she were not of this world. 

You suppose you could understand just why Nishinoya was completely at her mercy. She was nothing short of perfection, a true beauty- whereas you felt as if you were nowhere close in comparison to her. 

And the sudden realization has a stream of worry trickling through your body. You knew she’d never shown interest in Nishinoya, but, even so, she didn’t need to. She had him wrapped around her fingers, whether she acknowledged it or not. 

You felt as if you were being paranoid, Kiyoko would never try to hurt you. And Nishinoya, the ever-loving goof who’d stolen your heart was no doubt in your mind faithful, he too would never do something like that. But, no matter how hard you tried to push it away, the small ache that maybe one day he would return to her, settled itself deep within your chest.

The feeling of hands around your waist startles you, shaking you from your thoughts. 

A small smile graces your lips at the feeling of Nishinoya’s lips against the plush chubbiness of your cheek.

“Something on your mind?” 

Unsure of how to say it, you nod silently. Your lips pursing as your fingers find his own, fiddling with them as you search for how to voice your thoughts.

“Kiyoko-senpai… She’s pretty isn’t she?”

The silence that follows is quickly replaced with the thundering of your own heartbeat as you wait for his response. 

But after what seems like an eternity- which was really only a couple of seconds. You can slowly feel yourself being swallowed up by the floor. The walls begin to cave as you subconsciously shift, subtly trying to escape Nishinoya’s grasp.

“She is.”

You can feel them. The tears that gather in your eyes.

“But so are you.”

Turning to look back at Nishinoya, you are met with his signature grin- bright and warm as always, and his eyes- they shine like the sun as he gazes at you.

“Yuu…”

“I mean it y/n… Yes, Kiyoko is beautiful- But so are you. And I have eyes for only you. You mean so much to me, and it hurts to know that you don’t see it. I think you are really cute y/n. Don’t you dare think any less of yourself ever again!”

The tears that wet your cheeks are no longer of sadness as the widest smile you’ve ever had graces your features. It makes Nishinoya’s heart flutter more than he ever thought possible.

“You’re so sweet to me Yuu.”

“It’s what you deserve~”

The soft glow of Kenma’s t.v illuminated the otherwise dark room as the clicking of the controller in his hands followed by the sounds of the video game he was currently playing filled the relatively quiet space.

Your eyes trailed after the small avatar that scurried across the screen. Head leaning against Kenma’s shoulder as you nibbled on the small snack between your lips.

You thought it was silly really. To be jealous of a digital 2d character on a screen, but even so you can’t seem to help it. And the fact that Kenma spent most of his days glued to some sort of device, a pretty maiden with a body of a goddess displayed before his eyes seemed to only worsen that insecurity.

However, you could never find the heart to tell him that, knowing just how much his games meant to him, and to make him feel bad for something he probably didn’t even take notice of, or had the ability to control was unfair. So for his sake you would suck it up.

The gentle tug of your shirt sleeve catches your attention, drawing you from your thoughts. A small smile tugs at your lips as your eyes meet Kenma’s.

“Which outfit should I buy y/n?”

Your eyes trail back to the t.v, the character displayed shifting between two outfits of Kenma’s choice, both equally form fitting to highlight the character’s flawless curves.

You find your smile quickly turning into a frown, however one glance at Kenma has you trying to play it off as if you were merely thinking.

“What’s wrong?”

The sudden question startles you, but then again you should’ve known better than to hide from Kenma’s attentiveness. He could catch even the smallest changes of details in people, especially you- someone he has grown fond of.

That doesn’t stop you from trying though. Quickly putting on a smile and shaking your head.

“It’s nothing Kenma, just thinking I suppose.”

He doesn’t believe you, and he shows it in the form of a scrunched up nose and a small almost unnoticeable pout.

“You’re lying… But I guess if you don’t want to talk about it we don’t have to.”

A wave of guilt washes over your body, but, you can’t seem to find the words you want to say. Instead you curl your legs up to your chest, and to Kenma you look like an absolute ball of fluff as he continues with his game, choosing an outfit at random.

It’s not brought up again, not even as you feel yourself grow increasingly frustrated, nails digging into the plush skin of your thighs.

“-Kenma can I ask you something?”

Startled by the sudden noise, Kenma jumps slightly, looking over at you questioningly, not ignoring the way you stare almost longingly at the avatar on his screen.

“Would you find me more attractive if my body looked like that?”

He’s unsure of what to say, shifting nervously as silence engulfs you two. The only sound for a long while is the music track of the game. 

“Oh- I’m sorry… I’ve made you uncomfortable… I- Just forget I said anything.”

Shaking his head, he takes your hand in his own. A small shrug coming from his shoulders as his cheeks flush pink.

“I guess if you wanted to… But truth be told, I like you the way you are y/n. You’re beautiful.”

His words leave you speechless. A small flush matching his own coloring your cheeks.

“Thank you Kenma.”

There was no other way to describe Bokuto other than a pure ball of sunshine. Bright and welcoming with people flocking from all over just to bask in his warmth. And it didn’t hurt that he was quite the looker too. Truly someone special, and way out of your league in your opinion.

In moments like this you wonder how you got so lucky. With your head resting on Bokuto’s shoulder, your gaze directed out the window as he rambled on about something only he could make interesting as the two of you waited for class to begin. The sound of his voice calming, despite the energy that seeps from every word.

You don’t even notice the teacher enter the room. The only thing to catch your attention is the gentle nudge from Bokuto, and the wide grin you love so much before he heads to his assigned seat.

“Today we will be working in pairs.”

Before you had gotten with Bokuto, the announcement would have made you groan. But, one glance at him from across the room seems to make the assignment a little more bearable.

“-I’ll be choosing your partners today.”

And of course you should’ve known better, the feeling of dismay tugging at your lips in the form of a pout as the teacher lists off the pairs.

Disappointed, you can’t help but sigh, glancing over at Bokuto once more who sends you a small apologetic smile as he meets up with his partner. A girl you have come to recognize as someone who was admired by many for her appearance and sweet, sunny personality. 

The sight of them together doesn't bother you much, however, the small ball that sits at the pit of your stomach can’t be helped as she smiles up at him with a grin that almost seemed to rival his own… You had to admit, they were cute together.

Sucking it up you decide to push the thought away as best as you can. However, it doesn’t seem to be as effective with the occasional glance in their direction. It was like watching two angels, pure and bright. 

Luckily, the end of the class as well as the school day, arrive faster than you had expected it. And with a new found energy you find yourself bounding over to Bokuto- who you find happily conversing with his partner, the topic having changed from school to general personal topics. 

And much to your dismay, it doesn’t take long to notice the hand on his bicep. Her small frame leaning in close to his, eyes shining as if hearing about his assignment for a different class were the most interesting she had ever heard in her lifetime. 

You watched with wide eyes, suddenly nervous to approach the pair that shone like the sun. 

So instead you wait, busying yourself with some other mundane tasks, because surely he’ll be done soon- Bokuto has always been social anyway, it would be rude to suddenly pull him away now, especially when he looks like he’s having a good time.

 But seconds quickly turn to minutes, and Bokuto has yet to pull himself from her grasp. And you find yourself growing tired. 

Timidly you walk up to Bokuto, hand gently tugging his blazer, which he seems to immediately understand.

“Ah- See you tomorrow r/g/n-chan.”

Bokuto takes your hand in his own, bidding the girl goodbye with a small wave as he practically drags you out of the classroom.

The walk home is quiet, much too quiet for Bokuto’s liking. The tension thick in the air as you walk a distance away from him rather than holding his hand like you normally do.

“y/n-chan? What’s wrong?”

Stopping in your tracks, you direct your gaze to the ground, pout present on your face as Bokuto reaches out to hold you soft jawline, turning your attention towards him.

“Do you like her?”

Shocked his brows furrow.

“Ehhh? What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know… She’s just so pretty and nice- You two looked like you were getting alone… And I figured it was only time for you to want someone… Like her.”

Bokuto frowns, his hands moving quickly to engulf your plump body.

“Don’t you ever say that… You’re beautiful too- if not more. I don’t care if she’s skinny- or whatever! I only have eyes for you, no one else… You’re so silly- to not see just how gorgeous you are…”

“Thank you for making me feel better. I love you Kou.”

“Of course y/n… I love you too- forever and ever.”

“That’s quite a long time.”

“I know, but that’s okay- I want to spend it with you, and no one else.”

[scarletdawnxx-blog]

Nightmares: A Bucky Barnes x Reader Story. Chapter 6

Steve loaded the last of your things into the truck you were taking. Stark wanted you to test out a new all electric option, he had decided he wanted to break into the all-electric vehicle game, he didn’t want to be shown up by Elon. Stark was all about going greener nowadays. You hadn’t seen much of Bucky since your date and your heart sank a little. Maybe the feelings weren’t as mutual as you thought. You tried to make it as unnoticeable as possible that you had been looking for him. You couldn’t really think of an excuse to linger any longer.

  “Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Steve said, putting the last bag in.

“Don’t say it like that, I’m only three hours away. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” You replied trying to lighten the mood. You would see them all again. They were your family. Nat smiled and gave you a tight hug. You had already said your goodbyes to everyone else. Tony was trying to play it cool but you could tell it was getting to him. He had treated you like you were one of his own, but you knew with the new Parker kid coming on board he would be just fine. Steve came in and gave you a big, crushing hug next. “Steve I can’t breathe,” you gasped out and he laughed. He kissed the top of your head and let you go. He was the big brother you always wanted, but it wasn’t his arms and laugh you were wishing for at that moment.

  “You let us know when you get there safely,” Steve said in a serious voice. You nodded and looked around the garage one last time. You opened the door to the truck and started to get in. He didn’t come to say goodbye. Your eyes met Steve’s and he gave you a sad smile. He knew who you had been looking for. Letting out a breath you climbed in and pulled away watching Steve and Nat get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

  After the drive, you finally pulled up to the address you were given and it wasn’t what you were expecting. It was as if someone had dropped a very large English countryside manor in the middle of upstate New York. You made your way up to the front and were met at the door by Jean, you would know her in an instant, her hair was unforgettable.

  “Hello again Y/N” she greeted you with a smile. “The professor is waiting for you in his study.” She said and ushered you inside. The school was beautiful. Warm and inviting, with so much charm and character. You could tell there was a lot of love and happiness in these halls.

  Jean led you to a large office just off the main stairs. The professor was sitting behind his desk looking over papers. He looked up and smiled at the two of you and you cocked your head a little, catching your first glimpse at the Professor's feelings. Relief. It surprised you since even when you had tried to use them on him you were met with nothing. Completely locked out.

  “Y/N, it is so good to see you again. I hope the drive was pleasant,” he said and wheeled himself from behind the desk.

  “Yes, it was peaceful, you have a beautiful home here,” you replied, trying to make polite conversation.

  “Thank you, this has been in my family for generations. Shall I give you the tour?” he asked and ushered you back into the hall. You nodded and followed. “The first floor is offices and classrooms. You’ll find the kitchen at the far back, dormitories are the second and third upper levels as well as common areas. There is a pool, sports courts, and gymnasium around the grounds as well.” The professor went on as you followed him down the halls, he would point out the occasional tidbit here and there. You followed along and listened as he explained the classes offered. It really was a school for gifted kids and not just for their abilities but intelligence as well. You stopped suddenly when an overwhelming sense of grief hit you. You looked around and saw a young girl sitting in a window seat, staring out into the yard she couldn’t be more than ten or eleven. The professor noticed.

“Ah, that’s Rose. She has been with us for about six months now. She hasn’t spoken since coming here.” He explained and you looked from him back to her. What had happened that made her feel that kind of pain.

  “What happened to her?” You asked quietly.

  “Her powers manifested violently. It left her an orphan. She blames herself. I haven’t been able to reach her.” He said sadly. The poor girl. You approached her gently.

  “Hello Rose, my name is Y/N, can I sit with you?” You asked her and she nodded. You sat across from her and looked out the window as well. You looked back to Rose and focused. Her grief and self-loathing were overwhelming, you wanted to cry and scream out from everything she was feeling. How could she stay so silent with all that inside of her? “It wasn’t your fault.” You whispered to her and she looked at you shocked. “I can help if you want.” You offered up to her with a small smile and gave her a small glimpse of what your power could do, letting it just sweep gently over the grief like a balm. You caught a glimpse of the memory that these feelings were attached to. The utter destruction. Not even knowing what she could do she was powerful. “You didn’t know, couldn’t have known, what was happening. I know you miss them and blame yourself, but it wasn’t you.” You told her, taking her hand in yours. You had said something similar to Bucky and your heart grew sadder. “Don’t let this consume you,” you pleaded with her. Her anger was bubbling to the surface. She believed she needed to be punished. That she deserved to live in her own hell forever and that trying to take that away from her would take away her identity.  You wanted to show her a different way. “You know I have a friend who was a lot like you. He was forced to do terrible things, kill people. He didn’t have a choice but he still felt the guilt of everything that he was forced to do. It was eating him alive. He would have terrible nightmares, do you have nightmares?” You asked her and she only gave you a slight nod. “I could help with that. I could make them stop. Make all of it stop. You will always miss them, but it doesn’t have to hurt.” You told her hoping to get through. She began to cry and you scooted and held her close as she cried and cried. You held her and let her cry, you could feel her heart breaking over and over again as the cries echoed through the empty halls. When she had settled back down you pushed the hair from her face and wiped her tears away. “Would you like me to help?” you asked her again and she nodded. You smiled at her and just as quickly those feelings were gone. The grief, the blame, the pain. You took it all from her. She blinked at you and threw her arms around you in a hug. You smiled and hugged her back.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in your ear.

  “Of course, dear one.” You held her until she let go. “Why don’t you go rinse your face with some cool water. It will make you feel better and get a little rest. I’m going to go talk with the professor and get settled in. Find me later and we can go for a walk?” you asked and she nodded and bounded off.

  “You don’t know what you have done for that girl.” The Professor said.

  “Why have you never tried to use your abilities on her?” you asked wondering why he hasn’t helped her past her grief yet.

  “I have tried reaching her through her mind, she was so lost in her grief I wanted to give her time, see if she could come out of it on her own.” He explained.

  “She is a child, did you not think to try harder, to get her into therapy?” you asked annoyed that he let a child live in that grief for six whole months. The professor didn’t have an answer for that and continued on. You huffed but fell into step beside him. He led you to an elevator that began to take you below the main level. When the doors opened you were once again surprised by what you were seeing. An entire underground complex below the manor house. Here everything was bright and high tech and reminded you of the compound.

  “These levels are restricted to the children. Only those who have been deemed X-Men are allowed on this level. We have training rooms, labs, weapons room, and a hanger for the jet.” He explained as you followed him down the hall until you came to a large round door with an X across it. The professor approached and a retinal scanner activated. The doors opened to reveal a massive round room. A large platform jutting into the center. “This is Cerebro, this is how I found you, how I find more like us.” He said and you followed him in. You were in awe of the cavernous room. Metal panels lined the entire thing and a small control panel sat at the end of the walk way that led to the center. “I know this is all new to you and a lot to take in. It has always been my wish to help those who feel lost and different. Not everyone can always be helped.”  He said sadly and you knew there was more there to dive into but now wasn’t the time. “I hope that you can find the answers you are looking for here, and perhaps help us, as you helped Rose.” You followed him back out of the room and he led you to a lab where you were greeted with a very large blue, something. “This is Doctor Hank McCoy.” The professor introduced and he extended his hand which engulfed your own.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He responded and you smiled and nodded.

“You as well. What are you a doctor of?” you asked, looking around the lab. The doctor was full of curiosity and it made you feel a little like a lab rat.

  “Biochemistry and genetics, I also teach science and mathematics.” He explained. So, he was a super genius. Were all mutants this highly intelligent? You nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself, a habit that made you feel a little more protected from the outside world. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to run some tests on you, when you are ready of course.” Hank continued.

“What kind of tests and why do you need to run them?” you asked, trying not to sound fearful.

  “To get a grasp on the extent of your mutation to better help you and us to understand it and to learn how to harness it.” Hank said with a reassuring smile.

  “Hank has been invaluable in unlocking the secrets to mutation and helping all of us understand ourselves better. It doesn’t have to be right away. Get settled in, take some time, and Hank will be here when you are ready.” The Professor offered.

  “It has already been a long morning. If I could settle in a little, I would love to have a conversation with you Dr. McCoy, this is all just very new and a little overwhelming if I’m honest.” You offered up. It had been a long morning already. You had been on the road by eight in the morning and that was after loading the truck and saying goodbyes.

  “Of course, I will show you to your room Y/N” The professor said and you followed him from the lab. He took you to the third floor from the main level. This was where most of the instructors and so-called X-Men had rooms. Someone had already brought all your things in and your life was just a stack of boxes and bags in an unfamiliar room and all of a sudden the change really set in and a melancholy set into your chest. The professor excused himself and you shut the door finally alone. You sat on the edge of the bed and put your head in your hands, the emotions overwhelming you. Right now, your friends and life seemed a world away and not just a few hours. You pulled your phone out and saw messages from Steve and Nat. Steve as always was encouraging and Nat sent pictures of Tony after he had an experiment literally blow up in his face and singed half an eyebrow off. You laughed sadly at the image. You missed them all so much already.

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 16/?)

Chapter 16: Sufficiently Healed

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

It was late when you returned to the apartment; however, you were too on edge to possibly be tired just yet. While you had replaced his thirium pump regulator, there was still some damage that needed to be addressed.

Connor had reluctantly let you patch his skin before taking Robert into the police station; however, a wound like that undoubtedly caused some internal damage that he decided not to disclose with you.

"Connor, please read me your diagnostic report," you asked him insistently.

He seemed conflicted for a second. "I told you I'm alright," he replied softly.

You eyed him suspiciously, intending to continue on about how you didn't believe him. However, surprisingly, Connor caved quickly.

"Minor membrane damage inside central chassis," he uttered lowly, like a scolded child.

"I won't look if you don't want me to," you offered gently.

"It's not that," he replied immediately, not wanting you to think he was untrusting of your abilities. It was quite the opposite, actually. "You did this all day. You deserve a break."

"But, you're Connor," you replied softly.

You touched his shoulders and gently nudged him, a gesture encouraging him to step back.

"I-uhm..." he uttered, following along with your gentle pushes until the back of his knees hit the couch. He sat down and you kept nudging at him until he lifted his legs, scooted back, and laid down across the couch, head falling onto the armrest.

"I never need a break from you," you added on as he finally got the hint and arranged himself across the couch comfortably.

You retreated briefly to rummage through your bag, seeking out a tool kit specifically for this. As you did, Connor shook his jacket and button-up shirt off, laying them across the back of the couch.

When you turned around and was met with bare, cream colored skin, you had to resist the urge to stare like an idiot. You had seen his nudity before; but, the assortment of freckles running down his torso never ceased to amaze you.

It didn't help that he had a muscular appearance to his chassis. Then, of course, there was that damn pube trail starting beneath his belly button and disappearing into his pants.

Connor really was unfairly attractive.

Brushing those thoughts aside, you set the toolkit down nearby and straddled Connor's thighs. It was intimate and you definitely did not do it like this with your other patients; but, it was easier to access his chassis this way, considering he was on a couch and not an operating table and you didn't have a chair that would set you at the right height.

Connor didn't seem perturbed by you mounting him, not that this was anything new. He looked up at you with nothing but trust reflecting in his brown eyes.

The android relaxed against the cushions and opened the skin layering on the front of his chassis. The shell of his unit parted down the middle from his sternum to his belly button. There were multiple pieces that made up either side of his chassis; but, for ease of access, they parted in two. The material was flexible, yet firm.

Connor seemed to be taking a second to relax, judging by the way he was clenching his jaw. Undoubtedly, this wasn't a pleasant feeling. His system was likely warning him that he was exposing sensitive components that were susceptible to damage.

You admired the design beneath his skin in silence. The membrane fibers that acted like muscle layers were laid out intricately over his abdomen, almost like the perfect drawing in a human anatomy textbook. His internal network layout was far more advanced than anything you had ever seen before. He had more fibrous connectors than the average android, more individual, artificial muscles.

"Oh, Connor," you hummed, not finding the strength to reach inside and touch him yet.

Connor looked up at you, brown eyes reflecting something quite innocent.

"I-I don't think I can..." you trailed off, intimidated by the sight of his insides.

Like all androids, wiring connected to the various internal parts and membranes, allowing for precise movements and artificial muscle controls. Thirium was flowing through the artificial muscles, painting them a magnificent blue hue that was glowing in an otherworldly light.

Connor had more connectors than the average android. His layout was more precise and detailed than any other android you had ever worked on before.

Up until this point, you had only worked on androids designed for yard work, child care, and the likes. Before Connor, you had never heard of an RK series. He was the only android you had come across designed for something... violent. Considering his purpose, it wasn't particularly surprising that his design was more advanced.

"You're just so... I've never seen this much detail before. The intricacy here is amazing, really. We should get a professional," you suggested.

"What?" he uttered lowly, like you had just said the most ridiculous thing. Your eyes shifted from his exposed membrane to his eyes. He looked... offended.

"-someone who knows what they're doing," you explained.

Connor's hands reached for you, cupping either of your elbows. He leaned up a little. "You know what you're doing," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He was a little mad, you realized. You were prepared to rebuttal that, but Connor, catching that look in your eyes, continued, "I've seen the kind of damages you've repaired, and the way you handle androids. No one is better suited to take care of me."

The fierce look in his eyes made it clear this wasn't a discussion. He released your arms and slid back flat onto the couch. You gawked at him for a moment: intimidated, awestruck by his confidence in you.

"O-okay," you uttered weakly.

You reached for your tools before shimmying your body down so you could practically lay on him, and started working.

Membrane repairs were usually simple; however, in Connor's case, partially because his design was so unique, and partially because you were terrified of making a mistake, you took your sweet time. Connor didn't seem to mind. When you glanced up to check on him, his eyes were closed and his LED was a pleasant, blue hue.

Was he... enjoying this? You couldn't tell. But, his face looked peaceful.

Connor was beautiful, intricate blue muscles pulsating with thirium, the tissue firm and soft at the same time, strong and resilient. It was no wonder that he was so fast, so agile. He was designed to be an apex predator.

You lost track of time before you eventually sat upright and admired your work. Muscle tissues had been returned to their proper position, wrapped protective around his thirium regulator, wires carefully tucked back into their proper placements.

"Will you run a new diagnostic?" you asked him gently.

Connor nodded, his eyes still closed. "All readings are normal," he replied softly, sounding almost tired. You couldn't resist smiling at the sight. He looked so relaxed.

"Good," you hummed, carefully shimmying off his lap and rising to your feet. You set your tools down and groaned, rotating around to stretch your legs.

"Oof," you huffed as you stretched, trying to relax your aching back. Behind you, Connor closed his chassis carefully, until the seams relaxed and became unnoticeable.

He sat up to watch you, amused. "I'm not surprised to find your legs are sore. You were working for almost an hour."

"What!?" you shrieked. It definitely didn't feel like you had been going at it that long. You had been so worried about doing something wrong, about damaging him more than he already was.

"Are you sure I did alright?" you asked, sincere, turning around to face him.

Connor patted his abdomen, right where his thirium regulator rested beneath the surface. "The alignment feels more stable and... comfortable," he said with a confident smile. "I am sufficiently repaired."

You laughed softly. "But, are you sufficiently healed?"

His head tilted a little, brow quirking slightly. Androids were repaired, humans were healed; but, he doubted you meant it in that context.

You approached him and dropped down to your knees, pushing him back slightly. You ducked your head down and kissed the spot right above his belly button, where you had just repaired his membrane fibers.

You were smiling when you came back up and Connor looked intrigued.

"There. All better," you hummed innocently.

The android tilted his head slightly, briefly searching the internet to determine why you would do such an odd thing. After briefly viewing a couple answers, Connor felt strangely bashful and squirmed nervously where he was seated.

"'m gonna take a shower," you stated as you rose back to your feet.

Connor looked up at you with a silent question, his eyes warm and inviting and his lips curved into a faint smile.

"Would you like to join me?" you asked softly.

"Yes," he blurted without hesitation.

Together, you trotted over to the bathroom. You undressed as Connor prepared the shower, testing the temperature until he had it at the degree of warmth he thought you would like.

You were already nude and startled him when you reached around his waist from behind and started fiddling with his belt. You didn't touch his pants, but slid the leather through his belt loops and spun around to place it on the rack where he organized his collection.

Connor watched you curiously as he unceremoniously peeled his shoes and socks off before removing his pants and underwear. You ducked into the tiles and warm water before he could finish.

He was fast to come in behind you, startling a squeal out of you with how cold he was compared to the warm water. You caught the look of his proud smirk over your shoulder, before you shrugged him off your back, trying not to be too flustered by the proud erection he was sporting.

After you were sufficiently soaked, you rotated around carefully so that he could take his turn standing beneath the running water. It was almost hypnotizing, watching the droplets fall across his skin.

When androids activated their human skin, it felt undistinguishable from the real thing; however, there was no denying that water reacted a little differently to it. Perhaps, because their skin was so ungodly smooth, water just danced across the surface.

His hair, sopping wet, flopped over his forehead before he brushed it back with his hand. That unruly strand that touched his forehead and gave some deviance to his otherwise prim and proper cut was finally behaving, clung to the rest of his wet strands.

When Connor stepped out of the pouring water, you were quick to ask, "can I do it?" while reaching for the shampoo he used. As you brought the bottle in closer, you realized it was made specifically for android's synthetic hair fibers. Connor didn't respond verbally, but looked down at you eagerly.

You squeezed a small dollop into your palm, surprised to find it was more foamy than typical shampoo. As you lathered it between your hands, the cool, clean scent floated around the shower.

Connor tilted his head down as you reached for him. You weaved your fingers through his locks, impressed, as always, by how soft they were. You massaged your fingers into his scalp in a manner you hoped he would find enjoyable, down the back of his head to work the soap into the shorter hairs, careful not to catch on his ears. He must have enjoyed it, considering the way he sagged against you.

"Connor," you laughed softly.

You reached past him to rinse your hands off. The android tilted his head back to chase your hands and the water hit his head and sent the suds spewing down his back. His eyes were shut and he seemed relaxed. You let your hands return to his head to aid in rinsing the soap from his locks.

For a moment, you were mindful of not getting any in his eyes, until you remembered that his optics could handle a vast majority of cleaning agents and this would likely not cause any irritation. Still, you doubted he would want soap splashed in his face.

When his hair felt sufficiently rinsed out, Connor took hold of your waist and carefully pulled you around so that you traded places and was beneath the water again.

"You were getting cold," he observed, looking down at you sweetly. Water was clinging to his eyelashes and heavy droplets dripped from his sopping wet hair; however, he didn't seem to mind, or notice.

You smiled at him, feeling the warm water splash down your back. He looked in awe, staring at you, hair clinging to your skin, water droplets decorating your body. He tried not to stare at your nudity, doubting you would want that after what transpired today.

Wanting to return the favor, Connor reached for your shampoo. You couldn't help but giggle at the questioning glance he tossed you before pouring some into his palm. You fluttered your eyes shut when he reached for you.

He was gentler than you had been, careful to not get any on your face, mindful of how rough he was with his fingers. You felt him lean in closer, even though it wasn't required to reach you seeing that he had long arms and flexible digits.

After a minute or so, you leaned back to rinse it off and gently shrugged his hands away.

"I wanted to ask you," you began, voice distant over the sound of the running shower.

"When you asked me to stay here for my safety, was that a ploy to get me to move in?" you teased, eyes opening halfway through and watching Connor's gaze shift from curious to a deer in headlights.

"I wouldn't trick you like that," he protested softly.

You laughed quietly and his concerned expression relaxed.

"It's just," you continued. "I've been here a lot, and that's not fair to you. I'm pretty much squatting."

"It doesn't bother me," Connor retorted.

"I use more water than you. I use your heater. I'm running the stove more than you ever would," you carried on. "I should be paying rent."

"I don't require many human essentials," Connor said robotically. "My cost of living is significantly lower than yours. I don't require you to help pay my bills."

"But, they aren't just your bills if I'm here all the time," you retorted.

You rang out your hair and swapped places with the android again. You huffed out a laugh when he snatched the conditioner bottle out of your hand and, quite literally, took matters into his own hands.

"Please, Connor. I don't want to be a freeloader," you protested, eyes fluttering shut as he worked the conditioner through your hair with careful fingers.

"I don't see you that way," he uttered sincerely. You moaned softly when his palms smoothed over your skull and his fingers carefully worked the conditioner through your hair.

"I see me that way," you retorted grumpily.

"I don't mind paying for-"

"Well, I do," you interrupted him, a little harsher than intended.

He carefully removed his fingers from your hair and you opened your eyes to look at him intensely, hoping he realized this was important to your independence.

"I-... don't believe you make enough money to afford two places," Connor stated analytically, rinsing his hands in the flowing water. "So, it would only be logical for you to choose one over the other."

He handled surrendering rather well, you realized fondly.

"I like your place better. If you want me here?" you asked softly.

Connor was quick to answer before any doubt could blossom. "I do."

After you rinsed out your hair, Connor's bodywash followed: this time, something clearly designed for humans. Android's plastic skin didn't typically require a need for this sort of thing; but, you were pleased to see he had ignored this and treated himself. The bodywash had a masculine scent with a faint mint aroma that seemed oddly appropriate for his polished demeanor.

There was a perfectly good scrub brush right there; but, you ignored it, opting for your hands instead.

"Do you care if I smell like your body wash?" you asked as your hands smoothed over his shoulders and down his chest and over his stomach.

"I don't mind," Connor replied.

Your arms encircled his waist and you pulled him into an embrace, wet bodies smacking together. Connor seemed surprised, or perhaps unsettled by the sudden closeness, judging by the look he made. Your hands continued to spread the soap along his back, shamelessly enjoying the feel of his back muscles tensing beneath your touch.

"Sorry, is this bad?" you uttered, trying to make sense of his expression.

"No. I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable," he answered, struggling to keep his eyes focused on yours when he could feel your breasts smooshed against his chest, the soft expansion of your tummy and the heat radiating off your thighs.

It was obvious he was referring to the erection that he had been struggling to subdue ever since you undressed in front of him. Now, with the closeness, it was pinned between your bodies, smooshed against your inner thigh.

Connor looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I usually can control that better."

You shook your head rapidly. "I don't want you to control it," you whispered sharply.

The android tightened his lips, seemingly spurred on by your encouraging words.

"Does it bother you?" you asked, sincere, a little worried that he might have been uncomfortable.

"Is it not... demeaning?" the android asked softly.

"Why would it be demeaning?" you asked, tilting your head a little.

"It seems inappropriate after what happened today, and you didn't express a sexual interest to warrant this response," Connor explained, again in that very android-like way.

You huffed a little at him. "It's not like you tried to force yourself on me," you proclaimed, a little scold to your tone. "Should I be upset with you for being attracted to me?"

Connor's lips curved into a smile that was a little innocent despite the context of the discussion at hand.

"That is accurate, but-" the android began. "I-... Feel a little possessive at the moment."

Curiosity, excitement maybe, danced behind your eyes.

"You could have died today," you commented lowly. "Is that what has you on edge?"

"It is... a possibility," he drawled.

You were silent for a moment, rubbing soap all over him, not caring that a lot of it ended up all over you, too.

"...you were in danger," Connor confessed quietly, voice weak through the sound of the rushing water hitting the tiles. You couldn't help but feel enamored by those words. He was pent up and frustrated at the fear that he could have lost you today.

"For a second, I thought you were going to kill him," you stated softly, not sounding disgusted or angry, but perhaps worried.

"I thought so, too," Connor admitted, oddly not feeling scrutinized in your gaze. If anything, you seemed proud of him.

Connor wasn't quite sure if that was how he felt: proud. Part of him knew that he had to do what was best for androids and humans, so that they could create a better world together. He wanted to participate in Markus' vision; yet, when it came to you, he found himself second guessing those desires.

He would do whatever he had to do to keep you safe.

To accomplish his mission-

"Do you want to get out?" you asked softly, trying to rotate him around so he could wash off the soap. However, lost in his thoughts, Connor was standing there, stiff and unmovable. Eventually, he complied, traded places with you once more, and let the water wash the soap away.

Instead of answering your question, Connor was more concerned that perhaps you wanted to leave. "Is the steam making you dizzy?" he asked, concerned.

You shook your head with a smile. "No. It's just-... You seem-..." you trailed off, deciding against telling him what was on your mind, that he had kept his hands to himself despite admitting that he was pent up.

Captivated by him, you felt feral, longing for him to have you in the most intimate way humans were capable of. Connor was a sophisticated android, beautiful and strong, graceful and elegant. You felt as graceful as a flopping fish on dry land compared to him.

Of course, the android didn't see you that way. If he could sleep, if he could dream, you would be the woman that came to him in the dead of night.

You stepped out of the shower to retrieve a towel. Connor followed you to the shower exit, careless that he was dripping wet all over his bathroom tiles. Before you could get the towel wrapped around yourself, he gently cupped your arm and tugged you back in.

Your eyes, bright and confused, looked up at him, noticed the desperate look he was making, and dropped the towel on the floor. As soon as he had you back inside, he looked like he regretted that decision.

"I'm sorry-" he stammered.

"Connor, please-" you uttered, sounding suddenly like you were in so much agony. "-no more whiplash. Ok? Tell me what's on your mind."

"I want you," he confessed lowly, staring down at you with a desperately hungry look in his eyes.

His hands slid over your ribs, fingers curling over the outline of the bones with deep fascination. He unconsciously pinned you against the tiles, not too far from beneath the shower head, where water could sputter across your body. The android arched over you, patience waning.

Yes, please-

"Show me that you're alive, Connor," you breathed against his lips.

Finally - finally, he kissed you. You moaned shamelessly, arms weaving around his shoulders to drag him in closer. The android practically smooshed you against the tiles with his own body, trying to mold himself against you. His kisses were desperate, hungry, but somehow still managed to be soft.

He wasted little time before propping your leg on his waist and dipping his fingers into the heat between your thighs. Water was definitely not a suitable lubricant, and he wasn't too stupid to not be able to tell them apart. When he was met with your folds, the slippery substance couldn't be mistaken for anything but your natural slick.

He hadn't done anything and you were already dripping. He had been torturing himself with guilt while you had been as aroused as he was. The thought eased his troubled mind just a little.

The android trailed your nub for a brief second before pushing his longest digit into your cavern. You moaned against his mouth shamelessly. He gave you a second to breathe before shoving his tongue into your mouth. For a second, your eyes fluttered open and caught the sight of his closed eyes, tense eyebrows, and vibrant, crimson halo on his temple.

His tongue explored your mouth selfishly while he fingered you eagerly. His flexibility was a strong reminder he wasn't human, and you loved it. He thrust his digit aggressively, knuckles brushing against your folds, while his thumb pressed down on your bud, shifting with the movement of his digits.

Connor carefully maneuvered another finger inside and devoured the hiss that escaped your mouth. The stretch was brief, more so by the sudden intrusion than the extra girth. He was being a little more aggressive than necessary; but, you shamelessly loved every second of it.

When you started to pant desperately, he finally let go of your lips and trailed soft bites down your neck. You could hardly focus properly, pinned against the wall to ensure you wouldn't fall, overwhelmed by the delicious friction he was delivering to your cunt.

The android bent down and took a rosy nipple into his mouth, sucking on the bud in slow, but firm, successions that you would be able to feel strongly. You most certainly did, and arched your back, moaning and whimpering helplessly. Your hands gripped his shoulders for dear life.

You were shaking violently, feeling an orgasm approaching, but not quite there. It felt far away until Connor released your poor, abused nipple and leaned up, groaning a staticky moan into your throat when his erection brushed your thigh.

You weren't sure if it was his moan, the way he humped you slightly for just a second, or the fact that you wanted him inside you so fucking badly. Suddenly, you were coming, so hard that you screamed and startled yourself with how loud it sounded in the shower.

Connor was unwavering until you had rode out the wave and regained enough composure to reach down and wrap your fingers around his cock. He faltered and nearly collapsed on top of you at the sudden touch.

You stroked him a few times before letting go and pushing at him until he got off of you. He complied with the most adorable, disagreeing pout on his face. You almost wanted to smack him for daring to think you didn't want more - all of him, every fucking inch.

The shower had a small platform sticking out opposite from the entrance, clearly designed to be sat on like a bench. You stepped towards it and propped up one of your legs, knee on the tile, braced your palms across from you, and bent over, propping up on your toes on the one foot that was on the ground.

The android groaned approvingly and immediately covered your body with his. One of his arms came into view, sliding along the tiles on the wall in front of you. You were confused briefly until you felt him nudge you forward and your cheek came into contact with his skin instead of the cold tiles.

The water from above was pouring across his back and sending water spattering over you obnoxiously, not that you could find the willpower to care.

You heard the familiar sound of him spreading lubricant down his shaft and tried to arch up your behind as invitingly as you could, whimpering like a pathetic animal.

He didn't brace his hand on your hip, but reached around and cupped your cunt. His chest collided softly with your back and forced you to arch just a little more, until the angle was perfect and his tip hooked on your entrance. You were more than ready; yet, still, his size managed to force a whimper out of you.

He sheathed himself inside you and groaned low and staticky, beautiful mechanical noises. He was most of the way inside, thrusting shallowly a few times to let you adjust. You turned your head and bit at the skin on his forearm. That seemed to spur him on and Connor shifted his hips and filled you to the brim.

You moaned through your teeth, still latched onto his skin, enough of an encouraging sound for him to start moving properly. Wet, fleshy noises of skin slapping together echoed around the shower. Connor's fingers toyed with your pearl as he fucked you, displaying a sort of inhuman flexibility as he bent over you.

"Ohhh, Connor," you moaned against his skin before lapping your tongue against the spot you just tug your teeth into. It blossomed pale white briefly before fading back to his artificial, human skin tone. One of your hands was clinging awkwardly to his bicep while the other gripped the wrist that was curled between your thighs.

His hand against the tile was splayed, fingers bent and nails digging into the tile. Your pressed your cheek into his skin and huffed out a pathetic breath every time he slid back inside.

"-so beautiful," Connor breathed against the skin at the base of your spine. You whimpered when you felt the unique texture of his tongue as it lapped against the top vertebrae.

You wanted to arch into his touch, to tilt your head and expose more skin, so that his mouth could reach every part of you possible in this position. However, you were already struggling to keep yourself upright and didn't want to dare ruin this: the perfect drag of his cock at the angle that made you see stars.

You felt the android's forehead fall into the back of your neck and the heat of his exhaust against your skin as he let himself get lost in the moment. It was burning hot; everywhere he touched you was burning hot. His skin against your back and the tops of his thighs where they touched the backs of yours felt ungodly warm.

It occurred to you, then, that this was likely an unsafe combination: the heat from the water, the steam wafting about the shower, and his internal biocomponents heating as a response to external stimuli.

"W-wait, Connor," you urged, pushing back against him. His pace staggered, but he didn't immediately let you go. "Stop," you added on insistently, until he finally slipped out of you and backed up.

Hastily, you stood up and stepped over to the faucet, turned the water off and looked up at him with concern, cupping his cheeks.

"Are you overheating?" you asked, trying to make sense of the look in his eyes.

He seemed a little distant, not looking at you quite properly.

"Connor?" you insisted, a little louder than necessary.

He blinked as if startled by your voice.

"I-... a little," he admitted quietly.

"Oh, geez," you huffed. "Did you disable those warnings?" you scolded him lightly, taking him by the arm to guide him out of the shower. You ignored the chill when you stepped out and grabbed a towel to start drying him off.

"No," he lied as you plopped the towel on the top of his head and gently patted his hair. Before you could run it down his shoulders, he gently pushed your hands away and removed the towel from himself and wrapped it around you. You looked up at him with a harmless glare.

"I'll reenable them," he promised, looking at you fondly as he bundled you up.

"You better," you scolded him.

"I just-... didn't want my hardware limitations getting in the way," he commented lowly.

"Pssh," you hissed, delivering a gentle smack against his chest. "That's not a hardware limitation. Humans pass out from heat, too," you stated.

You retrieved another towel and flung it at the android. "It's called being alive," you added on. He caught the towel, but didn't seem particularly interested in drying himself off. You didn't miss the way he was staring at you, pleading eyes and lips parted slightly.

"Cool down a bit first," you teased, nudging at his hands until he got the message and started drying himself off.

You let the towel unravel from your body so you could dry the back of your neck and pat it gently through your hair. You heard a soft whoosh when Connor unceremoniously dropped his towel. As soon as you let go of your hair, he descended upon you.

You gasped when he backed you up against the sink, the cool marble pressing against your behind.

"I’m not going anywhere," you laughed, hands coming up beneath his arms, smoothing over the plains of his back.

Connor blinked away the hungry look in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm being too insistent," he apologized politely.

His cock, pinned between your bodies, was hard and throbbing. He seemed eager to continue, undoubtedly pent up and desperate for release. Your state wasn't much better, sticky and warm between your thighs, and not nearly satisfied.

"You're lucky I don't have work tomorrow," you surrendered with a sigh, though you had a warm and inviting smile on your face.

The grin on his face was charming and handsome, but hid something mischievous when he guided you to the bed. "You asked me if I was sufficiently healed," he started as he gently pushed you back onto the sheets, not the least bit concerned that you were still fairly wet. "I don't think I am."

You huffed out a laugh at his matter-of-fact tone. Your arms weaved over his shoulders when he arched over you. He intended to take your lips; however, you avoided his mouth and peppered kisses over his freckled face.

Your legs found their way around his hips. He nudged forward, teasingly brushing his length against your folds. Your head fell back into the sheets and you sighed at the sensation. He took that opportunity to steal the kisses you had denied him a second ago.

Somehow, you just knew, it was going to be a long night.

[straightlikewetspaghetti]

Demons of the Past

Pairings: Poppy x MC (Bea Hughes)

Warnings: Mature language

Word count: 3074

Ch.1 Stranger Danger

Poppy Min Sinclair had to arch her slender neck to see her reflection from over the shoulder of Chloe, who had been testing her new artistic vision on her for a good few minutes. For some time now, Poppy had become a canvas for Chloe's magical hands as she tried her luck at running a beauty salon, along with Veronica, who was doing her best advertising.

"What do you think V?"

Veronica tore her gaze away from her phone and looked towards Poppy wrinkling her nose slightly. She usually did that when she was seriously considering something. "As far as I'm concerned she could use some plastic surgery."

"Asshole," Poppy laughed hurling a pillow at her friend, which missed and knocked over a decorative vase standing nearby. Three girls looked in that direction and soon the three of them burst out laughing loudly, curling up on the floor.

"Enough, enough!", Chloe began to shout when she noticed that Poppy wanted to wipe her eyes from crying, and she caught her hands, looking at her with a chastising gaze. She wouldn't let her hard work be destroyed so easily. Poppy rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face remained constant as she silently teased the shorter girl along with Veronica. "Why am I hanging out with you guys..."

"You love us," whined Veronica hugging a reddened Chloe with one arm, who lowered her gaze quickly to her hands nervously playing with the hem of her skirt.

Poppy made the sound of displeasure she made whenever the two girls started acting too cute. She was glad for their happiness, but deep down she felt an incredible jealousy, because she herself would like to share her life with someone too.

The couple sort of understood the blonde, pulled away from each other and looked at her docilely.

"Don't worry Poppy, I'm sure you'll meet someone at the party tonight. From what I heard Zoey invited some cutie from the old days...", Chloe smiled as she tried to convey positive energy with her words. "Besides, you're wearing my makeup, no one will be able to resist you!"

"Cutie you say..."

Ch.2 Party Fever

She was the most beautiful girl in the whole room.

No.

She was the most beautiful girl in the entire world.

Bea watched from a dark corner of the room as Poppy twirled effortlessly to the beat of the music, attracting the stares of drooling people with her movements. Her tiny skirt didn't leave much to the imagination either, but that was Poppy Min Sinclair's style; if she wasn't the main attraction, what was the point of her presence?

"You're acting like a creep," she was snapped out of her observation by Zoey who magically appeared next to her, making her almost gasp.

"You should have some kind of bell around your neck, Wade," Bea rolled her eyes at her friend's laughter.

"Wow, she has nice ass... Ets, yeah, nice assets," Zoey smiled innocently seeing her friend's murderous gaze. "You'd better come over to her eventually,"

Her gaze went back to the dancing blonde. "It's been five years, what should I say to her?"

"Maybe something like; Heya Pops I already have money, maybe you want to come with me for a little Macarena?", the black-haired squirmed as Bea's fist landed right in her stomach, almost knocking the air out of her lungs. The slight pain she felt didn't stop her from laughing at the tomato-like look that appeared on her friend's face. "Come on babe, she's at the bar now, this is your opportunity."

Bea nodded and straightened up, ready to attack. "You finally said something with sense."

Ch.3 Deja-vu

"One Old Fashioned and Sex On The Beach."

Poppy turned behind her with a ready biting remark, but her voice froze in her throat when she saw the person standing behind her. And it was none other than Bea Hughes herself, her first drink, crush, kiss, sex, love, but also her first heartbreak. She stood before her as casually as if those five years of separation between them had never existed. Her short brown hair, now shoulder-length, was whiter than snow itself. Her childlike facial features had sharpened and she could see tiny wrinkles appearing from the overworked late nights. Her style had also changed, from boyishly sporty and bad girl to formal and important. She looked like a millionaire ripped straight from the cover of Forbes. She no longer resembled the person she once was.

"You remembered what I drink," the blonde choked out as the first wave of shock left her and the lump in her throat loosened. Talking to her seemed so unreal that she felt like she had lost consciousness and was now dreaming.

Bea smiled in response, though it was more of a tired smile than the beaming howl with which she had greeted Poppy daily in their school years. "There are some things that are hard to forget Pops," the white-haired girl shrugged her shoulders sheepishly as she slid the hundred across the counter towards the bartender, who with renewed vigor reached over and ran to prepare the drinks, nearly tipping over his own feet.

"Feeling generous tonight?", Poppy chuckled as she watched Bea tuck a rather thick bundle of bills into her pocket. In their teenage years, the white-haired girl had barely been able to make ends meet, but Poppy had always admired her ability to live from day to day and enjoy herself, even when an eviction order from her home hung over her head.

Bea laughed a throaty laugh that sounded almost like a cough. She nodded and tilted her head to one side, the way she did every time she got into a thoughtful mood. "There's nothing wrong with supporting the littles." Poppy's insides tightened to ask where she'd gotten all that money, but by some miracle her strong will managed to curb the urge and nip it in the bud. That would be tactless, and lack of tact is a trait that should not be associated with Min Sinclair.

"You can ask me anything you want," Bea looked her straight in the eye, making Poppy stop seeing anyone else but her. It was as if she had cast a spell on her and moved them far away, enclosing them in a safe bubble illusion. Even the music became just a distant rumble as the white-haired woman looked at her that way. The same way she had looked at her five years ago.

"I don't understand," the blonde cursed herself when she heard her own words, which sounded more idiotic than some of Chloe's wisdom. Bea seemed unmoved, by her clumsy attempt at pretending, in fact, a cocky grin appeared on her lips that she, oh so much, felt like tearing off now.

" Don't play games Poppy, we're not kids anymore," Bea reached for the drinks that had finally been brought in and handed one to Poppy, completely casually, fingertips brushing against the skin of her palm. "Drink up, it'll help you relax, and I know you have a lot of questions."

The blonde lowered her gaze to the drink and took a moment to look at the colors that danced on the surface of her liquor. How was Bea able to read her like an open book after all these years. Everyone said she had changed, but could it be that the change wasn't so great after all? And why was she always questioning herself in her company?

She was pulled out of her reverie by Bea, who unnoticeably slipped her finger under her chin and lifted her face so that they were looking at each other again. This time, however, she was closer, much, much closer. Poppy could without much difficulty smell the expensive perfume that didn't match the Bea of her memories, but did match the woman who sat before her. Just as in years past, Bea's thumb involuntarily stroked her cheek.

For a brief moment, the blonde let her selfish thoughts consume her and savor the touch, but it didn't last as long as she wanted it to. "N-no," she whispered and using all of her strong willpower she moved a safe distance away from the white-haired woman, who didn't object to her reaction. "I can't do it like this," she said as she walked away, escaping as quickly as possible from this cursed place, from this cursed past.

Ch.4 When It Rains, It Pours

When she left the building, it was already dark and chilly outside, and a light rain was drizzling from the heavy clouds hanging in the sky. At this point, however, she didn't care about ruining her expensive and designer clothes and makeup that Chloe had sat on for dozens of minutes. She needed to get some fresh air, cool down, and let her thoughts flow.

Why had she come back just now? Now that Poppy had put her life back together, without her and without thoughts of her.

"Sinclair!"

"You've got to be kidding me," she snorted under her breath hearing Bea's loud voice behind her, who as usual wasn't giving up. At least that hadn't changed. "What do you want Farmsville?"

Bea squirmed at that old nickname, but quickly imposed a stoic expression on her face and shoved her hands into her pockets. Even in this gentle rain and illuminated only by the slightly penetrating moonlight, she continued to look like a goddess, which annoyed Poppy immensely.

"You ran out so suddenly, I thought something happened and I thought..."

"Oooh now you thought?" snapped the blonde, who nervously shifted from foot to foot, almost ready to throw herself at the white-haired woman's throat. Years of pent up rage bubbled through her veins, making her skin almost burn with living fire. "Forgive my surprise, but I would never judge Bea Hughes for her ability to think!"

The white-haired woman watched her in silent contemplation, answering nothing. Her silence irritated the blonde a hundred times more than anything she could say. The atmosphere between them was becoming strained to the limit and all it took was one wrong move, one misspoken word, and the catastrophe was certain. The rain intensifying around them wasn't helping either.

"I don't understand what happened. We were talking calmly like we used to, and suddenly you run out and do one of your tantrums..."

"Ha! Like we used to...," she interrupted her again in mid-sentence, mimicking her and almost bursting into maniacal laughter, but her mood had nothing to do with amusement. "I guess you've already forgotten that you left me for five whole years and now you're back and you expect us to talk like old friends?", her voice wavered between anger and tears. "Someone paid you to come back here? That's where you got the money from, right? You were hired to get revenge on me..."

"What," the astonishment in Bea's voice was almost palpable as she stared at the blonde shaking with anger with her eyes wide open. It was Poppy's nature to explode and make arguments for any reason, but what she was saying now sounded irrational, even for her. "I'm the CEO of my uncle's company, that's where I get my money from," she corrected.

"What," this time it was Poppy's turn to be surprised and her face even softened. "What do you mean, what about your dreams of becoming a music star?"

Bea scratched the back of her neck nervously and lifted her face up, letting the raindrops wash her face of any negativity that had accumulated. When she felt ready enough not to explode, she looked back at the blonde and sighed, her face looking more tired than before. "Those were childhood daydreams. A music career would never make me the kind of money an accounting firm would."

"Childish daydreams? You spent your first earned money on a guitar and an amplifier, how can you call that childish daydreams...", the concern in Poppy's voice was sincere, probably one of the more sincere feelings she had felt in recent times.

"I needed real options and real money," Bea replied dryly, ignoring any emotion from the blonde, who was looking at her with a worried expression on her face.

"What for? Why did you need the money?" she asked, not yet knowing that she would light the fuse from the bomb with that question.

"What for? Is that really what you're asking?", Bea's so far calm expression bent into unnatural anger, her eyes misting over from the emotions gripping her. "And isn't that what you wanted? A girl who can fulfill your every whim, with a stable life, a job and a mountain of money?", a realization and simultaneous remorse appeared on Poppy's face, but it did not satisfy Bea. "Yes Poppy, I heard your conversation with Veronica the other night when you thought I was sleeping."

Poppy blinked several times, unable to formulate a response. She replayed that conversation in her mind, all the words she'd said then that she hadn't really meant, but under the onslaught of people around her, her perception was distorted. "It's not like that..."

Bea raised a hand to silence any explanation from the blonde. She didn't want to hear it. "No Pops" she shook her head, her hair wet from the downpour sticking to her face, masking any tears falling. "It at least gave me the motivation to change my life, for that I will be grateful."

Ch.5 Irreplaceable

"You understand that she still had the nerve to be mad at me? Like it's my fault for changing for her," Bea had been lamenting to Zoey for about an hour, who, like any patient friend, silently let her rant.

"And she's telling me that she changed for me... After all, I didn't ask her to!", Poppy nervously walked around the living room almost already trampling a path in the tiles. A worried Veronica and Chloe watched her in silence, letting her get all the negative emotions out.

"I know she didn't ask me to do this, but I wanted to finally be worthy of her, you know? I wanted to give her the future she deserved, and she wouldn't have it with me if I continued to follow my dreams," the white-haired girl slumped helplessly on the couch next to her friend, dipping her face into her hands. "After all, to a gorgeous girl like Poppy, it wouldn't be enough that I...”

"After all, she knew full well that she suited me the way she was, why did she take away the one person I..."

"Love."

"I wish I could be mad at her...", Bea muttered lifting her face and looking straight at Zoey who seemed to be in deep thought.

"But I can't," groaned Poppy leaning against Veronica's shoulder, who reflexively began to stroke the blonde's back, which slowly began to twitch from her silent crying. Chloe moved to the other side and snuggled into Poppy to give her her full support, knowing that no words could heal these wounds.

Zoey nodded and patted the white-haired girl's shoulder giving her silent support. Bea relaxed from her friend's touch. "Haven't you thought maybe it's about time..."

"To move on and find someone new? It's been five years," Veronica felt Poppy's whole body tense up and prepared for a burst of anger, from the blonde, but the blonde only raised her head and furrowed her eyebrows."

"No. She's irreplaceable."

Ch.6 Where Something Ends, Something Begins

It had been a week since the memorable meeting.

Since then, Poppy hadn't seen or heard from Bea who had sunk like a stone into water. Such disappearing without a word wasn't her style, but the blonde wasn't sure what her style was anymore. The days she lived as she always did, and the nights she sat curled up on the couch with a glass of wine and reminisced about old times while talking to herself.

"Thank you for coming Poppy."

Poppy slipped her sunglasses off her nose and looked over at Zoey who was warming her hands with a mug of hot coffee. "Believe it, I was surprised myself that I agreed," she lied. She agreed without hesitation because she knew it was about Bea, and inside she was dying to know what was happening to her.

Zoey giggled at the blonde's nudge and shook her head. Although her words were biting, there wasn't an ounce of incivility in them. Such a habit between them. "You can probably guess why I met with you."

"Is it about Bea?", Poppy tried to sound as formal as possible and not show that she was thinking about it day in and day out, almost unable to focus on anything else. How pathetic it would be if someone found out she couldn't control her feelings.

The black-haired woman sighed grimly and nodded her head. For a moment she began to search through her backpack and pulled out a strange little bundle. Poppy tilted her head and looked at the colorful paper that only her Bea could choose. She smiled at the surge of positive memories.

"The day she left, she told me to give this to her. I honestly thought about it for a long time, against all odds I wouldn't want you to suffer any more than you already have," Zoey's gaze drifted somewhere behind Poppy's back as she couldn't stand the pain in the blonde's eyes that grew with every word she said. "But I think this will help both you and her close a chapter in your life" Zoey pulled money out of her pocket and placed it next to the empty cup. Without a word, she placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, who stared at the package as if mesmerized. She squeezed it tightly and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

With trembling hands, she reached for the bundle and prepared to open it. Somewhere deep inside she knew exactly what she would find, but she hoped that it was only an illusion and that it would not really contain what she had in mind. Unfortunately, hope is the mother of fools and when she opened the package, a velvet box appeared before her eyes.

She opened it with tears in her eyes.

"Maybe in another life and another time we would have had a chance, but I will love you always."

[theodora3022]

Crown Jewel

(noun): a particularly valuable or prized possession or asset.

Pairing: Francis Scott Fitzgerald X fem! former assassin reader

Summary: Having betrayed the Order of the Clock Tower and fled to Japan, you hid your ability and worked at the ADA as a secretary for protection. Life was not as good, but you knew what Lady Christie would do if she discovered a traitor’s whereabouts. You knew someone would dig up your old dirt sooner or later, but why does it have to be this arrogant, awful man? 

Notes: This is really self-indulgent (to satiate my cravings and daddy issues), so read it at your own risk. I am not comfortable with cheating, so Francis is single in this one and never went bankrupt.(But he is still a family man, his wife Zelda passed away before the events in the show) He is an arrogant bastard in canon so you might find his behaviour offensive but that is just how he is. Excuse my pathetic Canadian English, as I cannot write in British English at all. This fic took me too many hours to write, thankfully it is finally done...

Special thanks to my friends for beta reading this long thing, your encouragement and praises are what kept my fragile sanity intact in the process!

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mild bimbofication, mild objectification, coercion, implied dub-con(We all know what happens in marriages right?), Yandere themes

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines.

She was beautiful for the way she thought.

She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved.

She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad.

No, she wasn’t beautiful for something as temporary as her looks.

She was beautiful, deep down to her soul.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

The entire Fitzgerald Estate is finely, thoughtfully decorated, lavish even. Like photographs right out of a luxurious architecture magazine, with marble floors, persian carpets and high raised ceilings. A manor that sits on the top of a little hill, surrounded by trees and flowerbeds. But no matter how beautiful it may be, no one can never feel quite at home in prison. You thought as you lean back on the living room sofa near the patio, slowly dozing off in the afternoon sunlight with a half-read novel on your lap. Maybe you would go for a swim later, you could use a soak before he returns.

It’s easy to forget how much blood is on your hands in peaceful times like these. Ever since he made you dispose of your count book, you can barely remember how many people you had slaughtered.

Your hands were once covered with callouses from hours of training, but now they are as smooth as the velvet curtains. The glow from the big diamond ring on your ring finger irritates you so very often, but he had warned you not to take it off.

“Lady Fitzgerald? Mrs. Smith is here for your fitting session.” It is one of the maids. Ah, is the tailor here already? You put up a smile for the guest and got up, silently cursing your “husband” in the process. Good thing he is at work most of the time, so you can at least enjoy this glamorous life every once in a while without wanting to bury yourself in a bottomless pit.

Another week, another one of those frivolous social events. But you have no choice but to accompany him to every single one of them. While acting as the leader of the Guild, Francis is also the head of the Fitzgerald cooperation, therefore this high society life has always been the norm for him. You, on the other hand, prefer lurking in the shades. All these shimmering lights, noisy parties, fancy dresses and high heels leave you either dazzled or vulnerable. You feel more like his nice accessory, a Christmas bauble than a wife. However, you know your obligations. Be his arm candy, smile, be obedient and not to speak unless spoken to. The alternative of obeying these absurdities is simply unthinkable. Merely the thought can make you feel chills on this warm summer afternoon.

It’s either this or absolute hell. No, that is not an exaggeration.

As an experienced assassin, you had prepared for death since you first signed up for the position. However, no one can bear the Order’s punishments. You know that too well, having witnessed it first-hand countless times.

At least you can live a carefree life with this option. With infuriating restrictions or not, you are still alive and maintain a certain degree of freedom. You should take this compared to an excruciating death any day. Plus you also get to live in extravagance, you cannot hate that for one bit. This rich man has spoiled you to no end, willing to fulfill even your most absurd requests as long as you are his darling wife. Let it be cars, clothes or jewelries, whatever you wish for, Francis would always make sure you got the finest of them.  Not that is ever possible, but you could...get used to this.

However, you utterly despise this title, Lady Fitzgerald? No matter how much he pampers you or showers you with gifts, it would never make up for the fact that you only signed that marriage license under certain conditions. There are those sleepless nights, while you lay under silk quilts in his embrace in some exquisite mansion, you wish you were back in your humble Yokohama flat alone.

---a few months ago

Almost spilling your morning beverage due to running into one of your coworkers at the door, is surely a bad omen, but at the time you did not give it much thought. “Sorry, (y/n)-san. But there is an emergency.” Kirako Haruno?

Work has only just begun, and to your knowledge, there are no major events scheduled for today. Why is she in such a hurry?

Haruno is as terrified as if she just saw a bear in the middle of the street. Strange, since she is usually calm and collected. 

“What has happened? Are you okay?”

“There are foreigners here, they are demanding an audience with the president. (y/n)-san, you can handle them, right? Please, keep them occupied while I notify the president.” Looks like this is your problem now since you speak better English compared to any other in the ADA.

She said it quickly without any pause. Also walked away before you had a chance to refuse, so Haruno missed how the colours suddenly drained from your visage and your horrid expression. 

Oh, dear. Please do not let the foreigners be them… Although not many members of the Order recognizes you as you always don masks even at meetings, you still feel the world may have ended for you, as you wobble out of the office to the reception area with cold sweat. If Haruno had not hurried off, you would have found some excuse to get away from this troublesome situation. You should have called in sick today...

Are they speaking with American accents? Good gracious, you almost had a heart attack over this. You dealt with the Guild before, back when you were still in the Order when you still viewed Lady Christie as your older sister. She used to take you to negotiations meetings. You know how they are, so it should be a cakewalk to keep them occupied for at least a while. But...what if they identify you and report your whereabouts to the Order?! Would they be willing to do Christie this “favour”? The last time you checked, the two organizations were not on exactly friendly terms. So you should be fine as long as you act accordingly. Besides, the agency would not allow foreigners to harm one of their office clerks, precisely why you applied for a job ADA a year-and-a-half ago.

Get your act together, (y/n). Being this panicked is beneath you, everything will be alright as long as you conceal your fears. 

Finishing on your diplomatic front preparation, you greet them with a professional attitude. “Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency, ladies and gentlemen of the Guild.” You try to talk in the calmest tone possible, without stutters. “Now if you would follow me, I shall prepare you some tea. The President will be ready for you shortly.” Now that you have a chance to observe them up close, you had to dig your nails into your palms, pressuring yourself to maintain composure. Why is the leader of the Guild here?! You had seen him before, there is no way you could mistake that arrogant blonde for anyone else. Even though you are pretty confident he would scarcely recognize you without a mask, that tiny possibility feels like a sharp blade pressing against your throat, ready to strike anytime. 

Fitzgerald was not expecting someone who speaks flawless English to receive them. Not someone this cute, too. And here he thought this is just going to be like any other boring business discussion. But he cannot shake off this feeling of how he had seen your enchanting smile somewhere before. It was not easy to leave even a vague impression on the great Francis Scotts Fitzgerald, you must have been someone important. A business partner? A Government Official? Or perhaps a Socialite? You are someone with a high position, that he can be sure. But why would you Oh how he hates having blurry memories of something. As soon as he returns to the Guild base, Francis needs to look into their Database immediately. 

“Earl Grey, imported from England. Would you like some refreshments as well?” Taking out a can of cream biscuits from your desk drawer, you are glad to see the redhead young girl nodding excitedly. You return a genuine smile to her before bending down to fetch the plate. You were not sure if you were just being oversensitive, but you felt a burning gaze on your back when you turned. Your assassin instincts were almost always accurate, could it be that Fitzgerald had remembered something?

“Is there something wrong, Miss? You are sweating so much.” You do appreciate the ginger girl’s kind words, but could she not say it out loud for her boss to hear? You were planning on keeping your panics to yourself. Moving unnoticeable further away from the Guild leader, you gulped nervously. 

“My apologies. I am not feeling well this morning. Now, here’s your biscuits.”

“Aren’t they called cookies? They are truly delicious, thank you so much, Miss. I’m Lucy by the way.”

“In England, we call them biscuits. Would you like some more, Lucy? I have more if you’ll like it.” Her cheerful nature reminds you of a little sister, how could you say no to her pleading eyes. Unfortunately, this also made you forget how you are trying to remain incognito, and you let your hidden past out unintentionally. 

England? That certainly rings a bell for the bright mind of Francis Fitzgerald. And no, he was not eavesdropping. You are talking to his employee, after all. Francis even forgot to scold Lucy about being a demanding guest on cookies because he was so deep in thought, searching for any clue of who you might be. He was about to recall something when you received the president’s notice about the meeting. “The President is ready now, this way please.”

After they entered the office, you realized how you had accidentally exposed yourself while explaining about biscuits. No, now all you can do is pray Fitzgerald was not listening in to that whimsical tea-time conversation. Your stomach suddenly feels queasy, a sign that maybe you should request to go home early. You surely do not want to face those calculating blue eyes again. Heck, you never trembled this badly, not even before the toughest missions. 

He was planning on asking you some questions after that unsuccessful negotiation, but it would seem like you had taken a sick leave early. 

You seem to be rather nervous around him. Suspicious. 

Yet Francis cannot stop thinking about how you cared for Lucy. That consideration, if his little daughter is still around, she is bound to love you… It could just be professional kindness, but Francis had seen enough people to tell what is a facade or not. Zelda was like this too, in fact, it’s this admirable quality that had drawn him in the first place.

The great Fitzgerald had seen so many beautiful women, but your unparalleled warmth and grace outshine all appearances. 

Wait, Francis had finally cleared the fog now. Aren’t you that girl with Agatha Christie, the head knight of the Order of the Clock Tower? No wonder you speak of England. He was so shocked when Christie introduced you as one of her finest knights. You were so friendly and lighthearted, how can you be that notorious master Assassin? It does not matter whether you had a mask on or not, he remembers those lovely (colour) eyes too well. He had found you to be alluring back then, but at that time he was too busy to concern himself with amorous feelings. Going through the guild files, he found that statement from Christie about how you had defected from the Order and a bounty for your whereabouts.

So, you are hiding from your former Organization? That is unfortunate. Francis had heard a word or two about how the Order is feared for its gruesome torture methods, how they still implement the old ways without mercy. You would rather work as a low-wage secretary then continue being one of their most esteemed Knights, something must have gone terribly wrong. 

This is the perfect wager to let you, a kind, independent strong woman, bend to his will. 

Now that he had thought about it, coming back home to a loving wife once again sounds more than wonderful. Having someone by his side forever, to love, to spoil, to have a family with had always been what he wanted. But fate has been cruel to Francis on this matter and had taken them away way too soon. 

This time, he would make sure to do it right. Francis is determined not to let the tragedy repeat itself.

You were surprised by that clearly expensive gift box on your desk the next day you arrived at work. There is a letter attached to it? Your heart dropped when you saw the Guild's emblem embedded on the wax seal. What could they possibly want from you apart from...that?

“Dear Ms(y/n), Sir Francis S FitzGerald would like you to join him for dinner at (location). Please put on the dress in the box attached and be at (location) at seven p.m sharp.” 

What a condescending letter. Not even a polite invitation, just saying he wants you there? You knew how this Fitzgerald is, that arrogant and greedy type, who would value money above conscience. Well, you still got some savings left, if that could shut him up you would not mind emptying your pockets.

You can never let her find you. Suicide before she did is a possible option, but you decided to save that as the last resort.

That is why you decided to put on that dress and go to meet him at this high-end western restaurant. 

The hem of the dress is too short for your likings, but its sublime texture made you presume it costs a fortune. You cannot even recall when was the last time you had don such fine material. Life as a Knight major feels nothing more than a fever dream when Agatha was still your friend, your dear Commander.

What is Fitzgerlad’s intention of giving you such a scandalous dress? Is this some peculiar way to humiliate you? This is why you are better off acting as the blade, never as the tactician. Mind games were never your forte. 

You are wearing that dress as Francis asked, good. He knew you would look gorgeous in it. It’s such a shame you always covered yourself up. Why wear those cheap, conservative trash when you can wear this?

Someone like you needs to be cherished, to be coddled. You do not belong in the shades or some little office.

“Mr. Fitzgerald. How may I help you today?” God, you feel almost naked in this piece of cloth, but you know you had to grin and bear it as he has the upper hand for now. “If this is about that business permit, I am not the one to make decisions.”

“Why, you are not going to thank me for the dress? You look absolutely breathtaking if you are wondering.” Crap, he is wearing a suit of a matching colour. Has he done this on purpose?

You blush a bit at Francis’s generous compliment, but you did not foreget why you are here.

“Please, do sit. And call me Francis, Miss.” Pulling the chair out for you, Francis smiled politely before signalling the waiters to bring out the appetizers. He is acting way too nice if all he wants is blackmailing you. You were expecting a simple, cold business trade, not...whatever this can be called.

“So, how is Lady Christie doing?” You put down the wine glass, sensing his malicious intent and narrowing your eyes. Of course, he knows, you should have expected this much from the leader of the Guild and an accomplished businessman. Lady Christie must have sent out wanted advertisements, too. 

“If you know this much then you must know I am not a part of the Order anymore.” Just name the price already, then you can both go back to your respective businesses and forget your paths ever crossed.

Clever one, although Francis would expect anything less from someone like you. Not just anyone could be the Knight major of that Order after all. You sighed with frustration, clearly wanting to get this over with. “How much do you need? I still have a decent sum in my bank account.” It would probably be a large price, coming from this greedy man, but you are willing to pay for it as long as he stays silent.

You, trying to bribe him? How adorable. You must have been incredibly oblivious to not notice his intentions. Yes, normally a good check would silence Francis, but can’t you see he is not after your money here?

Instead of taking the pen, Francis shoved his smartphone in front of your face. 

You turn paler when you figure out the contents. It was an email draft, a draft intended for your former Commander. It tells how the Guild is doing her a big favour by returning her astray Knight major to her proper place. Did he type out an email already? You can already feel those cold dungeon bars on your skin. 

“Is money not enough? What exactly do you need?” Calm down, (y/n). If Francis did not send that email, it means negotiation is still possible. Just give him what he needs and be done with it. 

To your shock, the blonde smiled smugly and said: “I want you to join the Guild.”

Join the Guild? “As an assassin?” Of course, he is after your ability. It was what made you a high ranking knight, no wonder he would want that for his organization. 

“Not exactly. You see, I’m looking for a...personal bodyguard.” Hm, Francis is fond of the word “personal” in this context, it makes him feel like you are one of his possessions already.

“If you have any knowledge about my ability at all, you should know I am no good for frontal combat. With your status, fitting individuals would come running.” Is he toying with you? How despicable. Only a dastard would toy with someone’s mind, especially someone desperate.

Carefully taking your hand into his, feeling your soft skin and those light calluses on your fingers, Francis knows he has to do this the blunt way. You are such a fool when it comes to romantic relationships. 

“Be my wife, you don’t need to worry about being discovered ever again. Christie cannot touch you as long as you are by my side. You can have whatever you want, just say the word. ”

This has to be a hallucination. Be his...wife? “Mr. Fitzgerald, have you got hit on the head earlier?” Feeling his forehead with the back of your hand: “You do not seem to have a fever. Are you feeling unwell?” Is he out of his mind? You, his wife? You are a dangerous assassin with a high headcount, not exactly wife material. No one sane wishes to be involved with you romantically, or so you thought.

He was not expecting such an eccentric reaction. Most women would be over the moon with the mere thought of becoming his mistress, not to mention an actual wife. Francis knows you are different, but this is out of his wildest predictions. 

You are even harder to predict than the stock market of New York.

“This is a serious offer, love. Do you take my words as some jester’s joke?” He is not joking? Oh dear, you don’t want to marry this man. He did not even properly court you? And it is not like he is giving you a real choice either.

“What, are you going to refuse? That is fine, surely this email could bring a smile to Christie's face.” “No, please don’t send that email!”The way your pupils shrink suddenly gives him heartaches, but this is the necessary measure to make sure you are compliant. Francis had promised to spoil you, but sadly this is not a matter he can compromise with. He could make it up with gifts and attention later right? This life in exile is not fitting for a lady like you, so why don’t you let him take care of you? Don’t you understand what could happen to you had he not intervened?

That trembling little nod is all Francis needs for confirmation. As he brings your hand to his lips for a gentle kiss, he swore silently to himself how he would never repeat his previous mistakes.

“Now, let us go ring shopping. Pick the biggest diamond one if you like, but make sure to select it out with a matching one.”

----Back to present

After the fitting appointment, you decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with some confectionary practices. You remember well how Francis’s face would lit up like a Christmas tree if he comes home to the smell of your bakings. It disgusts you how much he loves your docile mask, how you are his perfect housewife, his Mrs. Fitzgerald. This bastard do take pleasure in others pain.

Still, you must keep your “husband” happy. Humming your favourite melody in a pink apron, you try to imagine you are just doing this for only your own amusement, in your own house to make this more bearable. 

Baking is one of the many hobbies you picked up after becoming Lady Fitzgerald. You could not work, neither as an assassin nor a secretary, as he is concerned about your “safety”: “Why should my lovely wife trouble herself with those headaches? You should spend your day doing whatever interests you, like painting or knitting! Tell me anytime if you need tutors.” Then Francis gave your head a few pats as if you are some cute puppy? You can never count how many screws he got loose.

What interests you? Well, stabbing Francis in his sleep could hardly count as a suitable hobby. Guess you’ll have to think of other ways to utilize those kitchen knives.  Since he forbids you to train with weapons, you are stuck with those pathetic feminine leisure activities. 

Placing the tray onto the preheated oven rack, you were cleaning up the mess from the process when two strong arms abruptly wrapped around your waist from behind. You knew exactly who it is since you had sensed his presence when he first set a foot into this ridiculously large kitchen. You also had to take deep breaths, reminding yourself why you shouldn’t just aim your fists at Francis’s nose then and there. These past few months with him had raised your resilience to an incredible level, you could tolerate his demanding physical affections without the urge to jump off a cliff now. 

Curling your lips upwards, you push yourself to leave a light peck on the tall blonde man’s left cheek. That is mandatory, you had learned that on the first day here. “You’re home early.” The way you say those words is so sweet, even sweeter than those sugary treats in the oven. Even though you have to be careful, not letting the venom underneath slip out.

This is what Francis S. Fitzgerald longs to come home to, the love of his life after a day of gruelling meetings and other work. Once a renowned assassin, a second-in-command Knight in a Prestigious Royal Order, but now you are just his little housewife. He could never find a shinier trophy to demonstrate his power and influence. The haughty Blonde knows you have not entirely given up on the idea of escaping, still holding a grudge towards him, time will tell whether you accept your place or not. But that does not matter now, right now the Guild leader just wants to watch some brainless tv show on the sofa, with you on his lap to unwind, some Bordeaux would be nice too. He could handle all those business meetings if that means holding you to sleep every night. The sight of your smile makes it all worth it. 

You belong to him now, his most prized possession, the crown jewel of Francis Fitzgerald’s collection.

And you have no say in the matter as long as you wish to stay in the land of the living.

It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving,

But like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.

-F.Scott Fitzgerald

(Hey! Thank you for reading! Commetns and reblogs would be greately appreciated!)