#but yes i am freshly an adult

[i-am-church-the-cat]

In my head, I thought you were like a wise 35 year old even though I've seen your age multiple times

lol i think that's pretty common for me. i have always been the youngest in any of the friend groups i've been in, so i'm used to seeming "young but old"

[taeslarityy]

outage ༄ joel miller one shot (18+)

-> pairing: no-outbreak joel miller au x female curvy reader

-> word count: 4.3k

-> summary: after a citywide power outage, you're left to deal with the scorching texas heat. until, the well-respected neighborhood dilf — joel miller — lends you a more than generous hand.

-> warnings/tags: sarah is 10/11 so joel had her a bit older, power outage, texas heat, yes this is a warning because its not a joke, reader has a cat!!!, age gap (reader is 24, joel is late 40s), curvy/mid/plus size reader, brief fatphobia, reader has self-image/parent issues + is a lonely gal, fluff, SMUT (18+), unprotected piv, creampie, oral + fingering (f!recieving), squirting, body worship, brief ass play, daddy kink, big ole tits, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, a bit of belly bulge, cockwarming, pet names galore (darlin, sweetheart, baby, _ girl), joel has a huge dick (not canon!)

-> a/n: hi hi! i have been so anxious to begin writing again and currently have some wips that i am just not confident with. so when i saw the lovely @hellishjoel post her #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i was positive i wanted to join in! such a pleasure to be involved in this — thank you kylee for creating such a fun way for this community to get involved! as a curvier woman, i wanted reader to reflect that. because... joel miller is a handsy mf and loves to just grab himself some wide hips, thick thighs and phat tits <3 but ofc, this is can be for various body types. please please please, leave your thoughts and even constructive criticism! <3 DILF NEIGHBOR JOEL, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

You release a groan of annoyance as the visual of your TV, coffee table lamp and humming of the refrigerator all flicker off into silence. The frills on your throw-blanket settle, as the ceiling fan no longer produces the small gusts of wind that have caused you to be rather chilly on this hot, humid and rainy summer night. 

When you made the courageous decision of moving across the country for a new teaching opportunity in Austin — you were never informed on the true brutality summertime unleashed onto Texas residents. More-so, you really had nothing to do but be caged up in the comfortable AC of your home. You’ve been here for roughly 14 months and the only "friends" you’ve made have been the 28 fourth graders you had the pleasure of teaching last school year. Tragic. 

Your coworkers, did not handle your arrival pleasantly. Young, beautiful, freshly-educated and determined. That’s what your grandmother referred to you as when you called her sobbing after your first week. Informing her that the seasoned teachers won’t even bat an eye at you, and when they do it’s a look of disgust. Whispering amongst one another. Like you were in middle school again, trying to befriend the popular girls. 

“I was foolish to think things could be different for me down here, so stupid of me.”

“Now listen to me, you are the most intelligent woman I know. More than anyone in this family. Bullies like that, it stems from an unknown jealousy and overbearing insecurity. Don’t let a few sour grapes ruin this outstanding career for you. Your students adore you already, and so do I. Just continue to be yourself and if that isn’t enough for them, so be it.”

Your grandmother always knew how to make you feel better. She had been instilling your own sense of confidence since you were a little girl. The only adult in your life to do so. If only her words were enough. Your coworkers just never let up. After overhearing them gossip about you during lunch break, you gave up your attempts indefinitely. 

“She really thinks she deserves a place here?”

“Look at her back rolls in that shirt…”

“She really needs to put that sandwich down.”

“Why is she so quiet? It’s freaky, honestly. No wonder she’s always alone.”

You’re not a stranger to being alone. You practically have been your entire life. Your parents never really bothered to form a genuine relationship with you, always so focused on your younger sister. She was the prettier, thinner, more impressive version of you. You have only had one best friend throughout your long 24 years on this earth. She was smarter than you and moved away from the timid small town you shared in Northern Maine, choosing an out-of-state university. So, being alone was a familiarity. You have made peace with it. But being lonely — that’s a whole other ball-park. 

The booming thwack of thunder startles you from your thoughts. Your sweet calico boy leaps from your warm lap and scurries under the dining table — tail puffed in fear. “Milo... it’s okay,” you whisper. He just gleams at you with his jet-black saucer eyes. Even you don’t believe your own words. You are not used to storms like this, and you didn’t really prepare. You read some articles online about stocking up: having plently of batteries, candles, non-perishable foods. Yet, you didn’t do any of that. 

Rubbing away the moisture from your damp upper lip — the heat inside your home already becoming unbearable. Deciding on a whim, you can head to a nearby hotel for the night. Unsure how long you will be without power and don’t wish to succumb yourself or your cat to the searing temperatures of the night. 

The rain has slowed down, as you feel the soft patter on your umbrella. Throwing your purse and water bottle in the front seat, you begin to dread unpacking all this stuff when you get to the hotel. Bags, cat litter, cage — scrutinizing yourself mentally and deciding you better fucking prepare for the next storm. 

“Where ya headin’ sweetheart?”

Your heart jumps at the deep smooth Southern voice that fills your thoughts at night. When your hands would find their way in between your quivering legs. Throughout the day. Pretty much all the time.

Joel Miller is the only person in this town that has ever filled the lonely void you can never seem to fill. When you moved to the quiet suburban street, he was the first to come greet you as you struggled to pull your mattress out of the U-Haul. Immediately lending a hand, and proceeding to lug all of your remaining boxes, furniture, miscellaneous items into your new home. 

“Pretty lady like you, shouldn’t have to lift a single finger.” He remarked when you you blushed and assured him you could handle the rest, not wanting to be a burden. Even though the sweat dripping down your back was apparent and 5 minutes prior you had no idea how you’d be able to unpack the remainder of the truck. He then assured you — there was no way in hell you were being a burden. Words that were a rarity. 

Later that afternoon, he invited you for dinner at his home. You met his lovely daughter, Sarah. Where everyone learned that you were her new school teacher. What were the odds? 

Following that, seeing Joel was frequent. From parent-teacher conferences, backyard barbecues for the neighborhood, or even small intimate dinners with Sarah at each others homes. Sarah would even spend the night at yours on occasion. When Joel had a late night at the construction site, or when she just needed some girl time. You adored that little girl, and vice versa. 

You also adored the fuck out of Joel. 

So when you looked up at his porch, finding him in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants.. your throat went dry. His tanned skin gleamed softly from the street light — little speckled freckles adorned his waist in various spots. And that darkish grey hair on his chest and fat of his lower tummy that flowed underneath his pants. Your brain fuzzy at the thought of your face pressed against it as you swallow his cock. 

But you were not a fool. Joel would never express an attraction towards you. A man like that? He deserved the perfect woman. 

“Darlin’?” He speaks again, a bit louder. Disturbing your wandering thoughts. 

“I- I was gonna head to a hotel for the night, my house is too hot already. And I don’t want Milo to be uncomfortable.” 

Joel’s eyes wander down your body as you explain — the plush jiggle of your tits in that small tank. Nearly spilling out. Slightly damp from the rain or humidity. The chub of your tummy spills slightly from your leggings. A sight that makes his cock swell unbearingly. An act that occurs more often than not when he sees you or even thinks of you for the countless minutes of his day. 

“No way. Not gonna let ya drive in this weather. Plus, most hotels nearby are gonna be overbooked. I got the generator up n’ working, got the spare room too. Your stayin’ over.” 

“No! No, Joel. I can’t.”

“N’ why not?” His hands have found his way to his hips, popping a knee out and giving you that classic dad glare. Not angry, but confused as to why you’re even protesting when he’s already decided. 

“I don’t want to intrude and I have Milo. You and Sarah are allergic.”

“Sarah left yesterday to stay with her mom in California for the rest of the summer. Besides, Milo loves me. I can handle a runny nose as long as I know the two of ya are safe.” 

To this, your stomach nearly flips inward on itself. You’ve never been alone with Joel in his home. Not for this long. The few times you’ve come over to help him with dinner before Sarah got home from soccer practice, have always been excruciating. Staring at him without worry. Watching his muscles flex through his t-shirts. Big hands chopping vegetables and plating food. His hand lightly touching your waist when scooting by. 

There’s no possible way you can survive a night in Joel’s home. 

But, he’s already grabbing his umbrella and walking over to you. He grabs your stuff from the car and tells you to go grab Milo. So, you do.

Joel slips on a t-shirt after he put your stuff in the spare room, disappointedly enough. You nearly told him to keep it off, but held your tongue. You made yourself comfortable at the island barstool as you typed up some early lesson plans, Milo at your feet. 

He patters over to Joel who is now leaning against the counter, brushing against his leg. He then leaps onto the granite and purrs against Joel’s arm. 

“Psst! Milo get do-“ you beg, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. 

“S’ okay, sweetheart. He’s not botherin’ me,” Joel attempts to settle your nerves. Petting Milo’s soft fur and scratching under his chin, that special spot all cats love. “Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” He nods towards the coffee he’s brewing. 

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” You beam at him. Joel’s heart skips a beat every time your cheeks puff up ever so slightly when you smile at him. It’s something he swears is the most endearing thing about you. Of course, he’s only ever shared that with his daughter. Who begs her father to just take her favorite teacher on a date already. 

Joel grabs some sugar and oat milk from the fridge, your favorite. He learned from the few breakfasts you guys had shared. A bit of sugar and a nice gulp of milk softens the dark roast color in the mug, he slides it over to you as he grabs his plain black coffee. 

“You remembered!” You giggle slightly at the Number 1 Dad title that adorns the mug, taking a sip. You moan at the taste, exactly how you like it. 

“Of course I did, darlin’.” You almost hate how easily those pet names roll of his tongue. You summed it up as his southern hospitality, figured he calls any woman those special names. “So, you ready for this new school year?”

An icky feeling settles in your stomach. The thought of returning to the painful and toxic work environment you can only escape when you’re with your students.

“Not without my Sarah girl,” you swiftly change the subject towards the one person he can talk hours about.

He smiles proudly at her name. 

“Ya know, she still all mad that you wouldn’t flunk her so she could have another year with ya.” Both your laughs quickly fill the empty house. 

“Well, even if I tried to, that girl is too smart for her own good. She should skip a grade in my opinion.” You state, and you’re truthful at that. Sarah Miller is as intelligent as she is quick-witted. 

“Yeah, she gets it from me.” At that you roll your eyes playfully. Typing something up before closing your computer and taking another sip of coffee. “Although I love boastin’ over her, I guess I meant are you excited to go back? They treat ya good there?” 

Joel watches the color drain from your soft skin. Realizing he touched somewhere that might be too personal. Too raw. “M’ sorry sweetheart, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- no uh, you’re fine. Um, honestly? No. I’m not excited. The staff there aren’t exactly the kindest bunch.” You confess, slight unease crawling over you. 

Joel’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Mind blank on how the kindest soul he knows, could be surrounded by complete opposite. “Whatcha mean?”

You sigh letting the anxiousness settle a bit before speaking again, “they hate me. I don’t even know why, really? I have tried my hardest to get them to accept me but nothing seems to work. Whether it’s jabs at my appearance, teaching style, they’re never satisfied.” Your eyes are burning slightly, haven’t confessed this burden you constantly carry to anyone. “If it wasn’t for your daughter and my class, and… you.. well, I think I wouldn’t have made it through. I try to be strong, I try to be everything that people expect from me but it’s just so hard, Joel.” At that, the fat tears begin to stream down your face.

Joel was frozen in shock. Or maybe anger. Protectiveness. He wanted to hurt the people who made you feel like this. The least deserving of any pain. He sets his mug down and snatches you in his embrace. Holding your head with his hand, stroking your back with the other. He lets you sob almost uncontrollably into his firm chest. 

“I just hate being so alone.” You whisper, clutching onto him. You can’t even be embarrassed anymore, you’re so overthrown by his scent, his comfort. Comfort you’ve not felt in so so long. 

Joel kisses your temple softly, "promise you're not alone, sweet girl." He nudges your head to look up at his own sorrowful expression. His thumb running over your full lips, a bit swollen from your teeth biting down on them in an attempt to muffle your sobs. "So beautiful." He murmurs as he leans down to place a kiss on your left cheek, his lips skim over yours before he places another on your right.

Joel just barely hears the whimper from the back of your throat when that feather light skim happened. He leans back half an inch, staring into your glossy eyes. "Tell me not to, and I'll let you go upstairs and get some rest. Tell me, sweetheart."

It feels like a whole minute passes by. The soft patter of the rain, the smell of coffee beans from each others breath, the same slow breathing that overwhelms the little space between you both.

Desperation.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, "don't let me go upstairs, Joel."

Joel smashes his mouth into yours, his guttural groan flying into your soft whimpers. The softness Joel expressed a moment ago is long gone. This kiss is messy, teeth-clanking, tongue inside your mouth. Like he wants to devour you from the outside in. He releases your lip with a pop.

He threads his thick fingers through the base of your hair and yanks it back gently, tongue on your neck. Biting the skin there. "You're so soft, baby. Just need me to mark ya up, is that right?"

You nod as hard as you can despite his harsh grip on your locks.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl. Let me know what you're thinkin'."

"Everything you do is okay. I want more. I need it all. Please."

"Oh baby, cm'ere," he wraps your lavish thighs around his waist and hoists you into his arms. Easily. Like you're just the most delicate thing he's ever held.

As he walks to his bedroom, you smile into his neck. Arms wrapped over his shoulders, hand rubbing ever so softly at his greying curls. You bite at the skin under his ear and he gives your ass a huge squeeze. Groaning at how his big hands barely hold all the meat there. He couldn't wait to touch and gnaw at this body he loved.

At the foot of his bed, he taps your leg as if telling you to get down. You stand in front of his massive overbearing figure, staring up at him lustfully. You grab the bottom of your compression tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your unsupported chest. Your heavy tits fall a bit.

"My god," Joel falls to his knees in front of you, face nearly level with your pebbled nipples. Both his hands grab a fistful of each, rolling them in his palm. Your sweet noises fill the room and he swears he might've just came in his pajama pants right there. He takes his teeth and bite at the fat above your leggings, licking and sucking at a sensitive part of you. Literally and figuratively.

Joel abandons your chest to yank your leggings and panties down in one move, coming face-to-face with your prickly oozing pussy. He can't restrain himself much longer, spinning you around he pushes you down into his mattress.

He spreads your ass open with both hands, the chub of your lips open ever so slightly as the slick between them strings together.

"Perfect cunt." That's when you feel the chill of liquid spat right onto your puckered hole, dripping down to your clit. He leans in, tongue catching the tangy mixture of your slick and his saliva, right on your throbbing clit.

You screech into the sheets, so turned on from his actions. As he licks up to dip his tongue into your hole, one hand that's holding you open sneaks up your back, to your neck and yanks your head up.

"Nu-uh, let me hear you, baby girl." He demands as he pauses to throw his shirt off as fast as possible — not wanting to leave your cunt for too long without the warmth of his mouth.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt as it clenches and unclenches under his tongue, his beard prickling at your skin. Like he wants your scent all over him for as long as possible.

"Ohh daddy, more more," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have him as deep as possible.

Joel stops as he processes your choice of title. "What was that, darlin'?"

You freeze at his serious tone. Just now realizing what you've called the man. "Oh my god, I'm s-" Joel grabs your wrist and pins it against your lower back — thick middle and ring finger hooking into you with no warning. Your wetness aiding in the rapid slide of them.

He spits on your puckered hole again and abandons your wrist to land a harsh smack against your ass.

"Only dirty girls say that word, baby. Are you daddy's dirty girl?" He edges you on as he spanks you again on the opposite side. Hard. Unsparing. A side of Joel you've never seen. And oh, does it make you feel that coil tightening within you.

"Mmmm yes yes 'm your dirty girl, daddy!" You groan loudly, eyes swelling with fresh tears. But not tears of pain from earlier, pleasure.

Joel's fingers fuck into you harder, thumb now rubbing at your clit as he leans forward to prod his tongue at your asshole. "Cum for me, my nasty sweet girl. Drench my face. Let me taste you even more." He halts his fingers knuckle deep, hooked inside your cunt as he presses into that spot on repeat. Like he's stroking it out of you.

That's all it takes for you to silently scream as you squirt all over his lower beard covered face and your thick inner thighs, that nearly squish his head from how hard you're coming. Joel just keeps himself situated, never letting up. Allowing you to completely let go and rut back into him, telling him you need more.

"Thaaat's it, my good fuckin' girl.” He praises as he kisses your cunt and ass, he leans over your face capturing your lips in a kiss so messy and depraved. “Open that mouth.” Spitting roughly onto your tongue with a groan as you taste your sweetness that he knows he will forever be addicted to. No chance of recovery.

He ruts his thick bulge into your ass as you whine needly.

"Really want you to fuck my face, now." You beg, hand reaching down to grope him through his loose pjs.

"Mmmmm," he murmurs as his hips keep rutting into you. "Tonight is about you, baby. M' gonna stuff your tight cunt so fuckin' deep you'll feel it in your throat, don't worry." And with that promise, he releases himself, throbbing cock slapping against his lower tummy. You flip onto your back just to see it and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

You always knew it was huge just from perception, but god. It's thicker than your wrist, and looks like it would prod into your cervix. Painful even. Joel senses the worry on your face as he pushes your legs back against your chest. Admiring the way your stomach folds into itself, soft roll after roll. And the thickness of your inner thighs lays heavy. He just wants to get down and feast on you again but he might die if he doesn't feel you wrapped around him.

"You're in charge here, sweetheart. Understood?" He explains as he rubs his fat cock head up and down your swollen slit — notching on your opening with every downward stroke.

You nod slowly, peeking down at the monster between your legs once more. He squeezes your ankle, subtly reminding you to vocalize.

"Yes daddy, I understand."

"Good." And with that, he pushes into your fluttering hole. Your eyes roll back immediately, head thumping onto the soft duvet. He pushes in deeper, barely halfway in and he sees your feet and eyes scrunch a bit. It almost feels like he could rip you apart. Maybe it's because you haven't been fucked in a hot minute — or maybe it's just that Joel is so fucking hung. More than any guy you've slept with.

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart.” He soothes you, as soon as he sees your chest fall — he slams the rest of the way in. Hips flush with the back of your thighs. Cock fully sheathed in your warm soaked cunt. Heavy brimming balls pressed against your little puckered hole. ��You feel so damn good. Dripping for me.” Joel’s eyes close at the feeling of you hugging him so tight. He suddenly forgets the feeling of any other woman he’s pleased. Utterly devoted to you from here on out.

When he pulls out all the way to his fat tip — it notches on your opening. Like he has to put in that extra effort to fully remove himself from you. But he doesn’t, and starts fucking into you fully. Never half way, never pulling completely out.. but always making sure he reaches the end of you.

“Da- daddy oh, harder please.” You plead, squeezing his forearm at the overwhelming feel of him nudging your cervix with every thrust.

That confirmation of pleasure is all Joel needs to push your legs back even more — ankles by your head — and began a brutal relentless pace. Grabbing a fistful of your jiggling tit and messy hair, he pulls your head up so you can watch how he ruins you for anyone else.

“Ya see that, see how swollen your gettin’ already?” Joel questions as he holds your head perfectly to observe the slight lifted pudge on your tummy. Paired with the way his coarse hair rubs against your swelled clit — it’s a drool worthy sight.

“Cus’ your so big, Joel.” You sigh, eyes fluttering from the primal force he’s using on your body.

A smug grin flicks across his face at the view. Mind consumed by the most perfect woman. Eyebrows turning inward, the little lines between them deepening as you try to comprehend all the emotions in this moment. Removing his hand from your head, he finds your clit and swipes it upward. Over and over. Leaning down, he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as humanely possible. Tongue flicking the pebbled area, coercing your orgasm from you. “Cum with me, baby.” His muffled command shoots straight to your filled core.

As he feels you spasm around his thickness, he stills balls deep. “There it is, baby…” Spilling his cum inside your warmth. Plugging you, keeping you full of him. Joel relaxes his body against yours, finding your mouth to kiss you gently. Sweaty foreheads against one another. Joel goes to push off of you, his comforting body heat about to be ripped away.

"No! Wanna feel you longer, please."

Your protest makes Joel's heart surge. "Of course, sweet girl." Wrapping his large arms around you, he flips you both so that your soft plush body lays above him. The new angle makes his spent cock nudge a bit deeper, you both moan at the faint squelch of his cum overflowing your cunt. "You're so perfect," he mutters.

Smiling into his full chest, you leave a swift kiss. "So are you. Thank you for this. For.. everything."

Joel's hands finds your back as he begins gentle strokes onto your supple skin, his head resting atop your own. "Thank you, darlin'. I want you to understand something, you might just be the finest thing that ever happened to Sarah and I. Y'know, she didn't really want to see her mom. Never had the best relationship with her. She just wanted to spend the remainder of the summer havin' ya over everyday to swim and all. That girl admires you more than anyone."

Eyes foggy, you shift to gaze up at him. "And what does her father think?"

Joel pauses briefly, rich brown orbs beaming into yours. "Think she's damn right. She didn't want me to tell you this, but she left so I could have some alone time with you — take ya out. Scolded me sayin' by the time she's back, we better be together." He laughs at the thought, you join him. Picturing that 4'9 ball of fire lecturing her father on the rules of dating.

"So, you're asking me out Miller?" You question with a heavy hopeful heart.

"Should've done it forever ago, darlin'." He confesses, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

And with that, you place your head back onto the warm chest of the man you've craved your entire life. Realizing, ever since that day where he first greeted you with that sultry gentleman voice — you were never truly alone.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[rvp32]

Heir to the clan's legacy- Chapter 3

White cum spills out of Yoona's stuffed pussy and your cock is covered in her juices and your seed.

You turn around and smirk.

"Mommy…why don't you clean my cock?"

"Y/N Do you know what the fuck you have just done!" Taeyeon screams as she walks toward you.

The loud scream makes you lose your concentration a little allowing Yoona to escape from your binding

"What have I done, mommy? I fucked Auntie Yoona because she's sexy. I'm an adult. Why are you so mad?"

"I told you specifically not to do any such thing before you left and not only did you go ahead and fuck your aunty and cum inside of her you also had the audacity to call me here," Taeyeon screams

You then turn to Yoona.

"She enjoyed it. Didn't you, mommy" You say smirking, calling Yoona mommy.

Yoona was still recovering from the orgasm and she was also scared but she shyly said, " It was some of the best sex that I have had in a very long time,"

You smirk smiling, but then Taeyeon flash-stepped and you barely reacted since you weren't on guard. You manage to bat her arm away.

"I'm not a kid anymore, mommy…if I want to fuck YoonA. I will."

"Enough, put on your clothes you are coming home with me right now and we will talk about your behavior," Taeyeon says

she then looks to Yoona, " We are going to have a really long conversation about this Yoona,"

But you shake your head.

"No. I'm not going with you. I didn't do anything wrong." You flash step and put your clothes back on but then you also grab your sword and assume a challenging position.

"Y/n don't do this, all I am suggesting is that we talk. I am not trying to hurt you or even fight you. So calm down, " Taeyeon says trying to calm you down

"Talk about what? You can't baby me anymore. I want to be with Yoona…I will be with Yoona. I'll be with whoever I want. You know I asked Kazuha to be my girlfriend today?"

Yoona was also shocked by this information because she didn't expect you to have already a girlfriend whom you just started dating today. She felt bad because she was your side piece and the second option.

"I am not babying you anymore! I won't do it. We left off at a very bad place in the morning so I just want to clear it up. For fucks sake just listen to me just this one fucking time," Taeyeon said her showing more and more frustration as the conversation goes on

You turn to Yoona.

"Just so you know, you aren't a side piece or a second option…I need to restart my clan…I want you, need you as a partner, Yoona…I love you just as I love Kazuha."

Yoona's expression turned softer after hearing that, she also realized the huge responsibility you had.

You then turn to Taeyeon.

"Don't you understand that? I love you…I want you…who better to restart my clan than you, Mommy?"

"I am open to that and I would be really happy to help you with it as well but Y/n you need to learn to take consent before you jump onto people like that, I was confused and didn't know what you really wanted," Taeyeon explained

You then flash step to her and kiss her deeply again.

"I want you…I want both of you…" Your spiritual pressure rising again.

"Calm down, you don't need to release so much spiritual pressure, I am right here," Taeyeon says as she brushes a little bit of your hair

"I need both of you…" I say with lust, as I derobe once again. "Both of my mommies…sucking my cock…I'm still so full mommy, you said you'd always take care of me.." You pout like a child, playing on Taeyeon's motherly affection for you.

"I will baby boy, I will always take care of my pretty little boy," Taeyeon says before grabbing your cock and slowly rubbing it

"Oh.." I moan, finally. My mommy..my hot mommy.

"Yoona mommy…Taeyeon mommy…please both suck my cock…worship it…"

Yoona crawls to you, with your cum still dripping out of her freshly used pussy. she massages your balls as Taeyeon plays with your cock

"Oh fuck yeah…yes…use your lips my mommies…fuck.."

"aww is that so if you want mommy to use her lips you are going to have to beg pretty boy," Taeyeon whispers in your ear and bites it

You counter and kiss at her neck. You were kissing your mommy…your beautiful Taeyeon and you nibble at her ear too.

"Please Mommy…suck my cock…I've wanted to feel it for so long…your beautiful lips and tongue.."

"Now, that's a good boy, " Taeyeon coos before getting on her knees and taking the tip of her cock into your mouth.

Yoona takes this opportunity to stand up and kiss you passionately

"Mommy it feels so good…you were meant to do this right? My cock…to take care of me…this is the only cock you ever need…"

Taeyeon speeds up, taking in more of your cock every time she went down, trying her best to fit your entire cock into her tiny cute mouth

"Holy fuck mommy…oh my god…that feels so good…yes all of it.."

You kiss Yoona too, but you begin to thrust into Taeyeon's mouth.

Yoona pulls away from the kiss, "Go on fuck that throat like you mean it, show her who she belongs to," Yoona moans into your ear and goes on to kiss your neck and leave marks all over it

This turned you on a lot. As you begin to ram your cock into Taeyeon's thrust over and over.

"My mommy whore…my mommy bitch…my slutty mommy…" You chant as you finally get what you want. Taeyeon began choking on your cock a little but she still continued to take it into her throat as much as she could.

"Go on paint your mommy's throat white with all the precious cum, " Yoona moans as she uses your fingers to stimulate her clit

You bite at Yoona's breasts and suck on her tit..trying to draw out milk. You don't stop fucking Taeyeon's mouth as you shove as much as you could in there, watching it bulge.

"Holy fuck baby that's so hot, are you trying to get milk out of me baby," Yoona moans as she pets your hair like a child who is getting breastfed

"Fuck if only there was milk coming out right now!" You moaned in between sucking Yoona's tits

You had to figure out some spell for that or something…

"Oh, mommy…I'm going to cum…down your fucking throat…"

"GO on baby cum all down your mommy's throat," Yoona cooed you dumped all your cum down Taeyeon's throat

You pant and huff, pulling out and smiling.

"How does it taste Mommy? Your first taste of my cum? Your baby boy's cum?"

"It tastes amazing baby just as I expected it to but holy fuck don't you cum a lot. this is your second load and it is so much I wonder how thick the first load must have been," Taeyeon states,

"Oh the first load was massive and thick alright, his cum is still leaking out of my pussy and I am 100% sure that I am already pregnant with his baby," Yoona says

You pull Yoona in for another torrid kiss with your tongue.

"Your feet next���both of you…I need to taste them and fuck them…" You say with desire.

"aren't you an insatiable horny bastard, if that's what you want then your mommy's shall oblige," Taeyeon says

You growl.

"Oh? Calling your baby boy a bastard? How naughty of you, mommy!" You grab both of them and toss them on the bed. You lie down and have Taeyeon and Yoona sit near you by your cock. Taeyeon folds out her legs towards your face and you begin to lick at her toes and the underside of her feet.

Yoona meanwhile gives you a footjob.

"my baby boy is so naughty and always horny for his mommies isn't he?" Taeyeon questions as she enjoys you worshipping her feet

"I love your white nail polish Mommy…and Yoona's black…so sexy…your feet are so fucking good.."

Taeyeon's feet were so soft and you try to suck on all five toes from her foot at once.

"Aren't you a greedy boy wanting so much all at once, If I had known that you were a feet-loving boy then I would have gotten a pedicure before coming here," Taeyeon says before moaning

You suck on her toes harder.

"No, your toes are so good…so hot…I love them…please give me a double footjob mommies!"

"you are so impatient," Taeyeon says before using one of her feet to push your cock into Yoona's other foot. Both of you matching the rhythm together to jerk off your big hard throbbing cock

"HOLY FUCK MOMMIES.." You howl loudly as they worked together perfectly to stroke your cock off with their feet. The contrast of pedicure colors was amazing

"oh you are really enjoying this so much aren't you, my little perverted loser," Taeyeon teases you as she continues to play with your hard cock

"He loves it so much Unnie, he blew such a huge load when I gave him a footjob before," Yoona says

You pout. "Mommy…that wasn't nice…I'm just so attracted to you…"

"You don't have to lie baby I can feel your cock throb whenever I say things like that," Taeyeon says

"It turns me on when you want me, mommy…you're all mine right?"

"Yes baby I am all yours, both of us belong to you

I then flare up my pressure and jam my cock back into Taeyeon's tight cunt, growling as I use flash step and slam her into the wall and begin drilling into her gasp "Fuck!" Taeyeon moans out as you drill into her the sudden invasion of your cock stretching out her pussy a lot more than expected

"What was that mommy?" I growl as I hammer into her and then kiss her neck, biting at it a bit.

"It feels so fucking good baby, keep pounding Mommy like that use my hole however you want!" Taeyeon growls

"Remember you're my mommy…and my caretaker…I am your Master and baby boy…and you…I fucking own you…to fuck…and use as a whore!"

"Yes, you own me, fucking use me as your whore! make you your cum dump!" Taeyeon moans out pleasure completely taking over her brain

I kiss her with my tongue and speed up. The tightness of her cunt was immaculate..my whore mommy getting fucked by my cock was something else.

"Mommy…I want to drink your fucking milk…"

"Go on baby you can have how much ever you want!" Taeyeon allows you

"Unnie, What is he talking about?" Yoona asks confused about what milk you are asking Taeyeon for

I then lower my mouth to her right breast and swirl my tongue before latching on and sucking. I was finally drinking her milk…my mommy's milk…it was perfection.

"NGHH" Taeyeon moans, the pleasure getting too much for her. It felt like absolute heaven, she hadn't had something feel this good in such a long time

A little milk leaks out from the corner of your mouth and this surprises Yoona. So many questions popping into her head and you see her eyes lined with confusion. To distract her you push your fingers into Yoona's wet pussy and finger her as you continue to pound Taeyeon

"Mommy's milk…mommy's cunt…you're both mine…" you growl.

You were fucking Taeyeon so hard…your mommy…your whore…your bitch…was now truly yours.

Taeyeon's moans now sounded like screams absolutely tearing through thr roam and they were accompanied by Yoona who was also on the cusp of another orgasm

"I'm going to fucking cum mommy! Going to fucking cum so hard!" You roar.

"Go on baby cum inside your mommy, breed her just like you did me," Yoona encourages you and Taeyeon is just simply beyond the ability to speak right now

You were finally going to do it, you were going to breed your mommy Taeyeon…

"FUCK!" You slam your cock all the way inside her cunt and explode…cumming the hardest and longest you ever have…you weren't pulling out and waited minutes until you fully emptied, painting her walls white.

Taeyeon's mind was going absolutely haywire, completely taken over by pleasure. The cum was so warm and felt perfect inside of her. satisfying everything that she had ever wanted.

You then kiss Taeyeon with more tongue.

"Mommy…Yoona…on your knees both of you…fucking clean my cock…it's official now…you're both my whores to breed and restart my clan."

Without any replies, the both of them were on their knees, cleaning up your cock.

You hiss in pleasure as both their tongues and sweet lips worked your tip and they cleaned every bit of cum left. They shared it between them and you pressed their heads together to make out with your cock.

"I've been developing a kido spell…" You say before using the enchantment and a marking of the Uzumaki clan forms just above their cunt before disappearing.

"what is it supposed to do baby?" Yoona asks innocently.

Taeyeon is also curious and is just waiting to see what you answer

"This will make it so nobody else is allowed to fuck you…your body will only respond in pleasure to my touch alone."

"Oh someone is possessive!" Taeyeon and Yoona say at the same time

"Of course…my clan…my whores…I need to keep it all in line…now then…YoonA..I think you should move to the clan compound. We can use this place as a safe house."

"Oh am I finally being allowed to move into the Uzumaki's compound" Yoona questioned

"Yes you are, You belong to me now so you should stay where I can reach you any time I want," You reply

YoonA stands and kisses you lovingly.

"Good…it's settled then… let's head back. I have my first official day tomorrow so let's try and take it easy for the rest of the day."

"Yayyy!" Yoona cheers as she puts on her robe and begins to grab things that she will need.

The three of you get back and head back into bed. You were so happy having them on either side of you…you snuggle with Taeyeon and kiss her.

"I love you, mommy. You're mine."

"What about me?" Yoona whines as she hugs you

You kiss her too.

"And you too.." All three of you drift to sleep shortly after.

[murdockparker]

Roses and Regrets - Part 1

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Freshly out of mourning, Lady Barlow, née (Y/L/N), makes her re-debut in society. If only she could simply ignore a certain viscount...

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: none. enemies to lovers!!

A/N: I didn't expect this lil requested fic to turn into such an event, let alone a multi-part story! so, you're welcome or I'm sorry?

next part

__

She was perfectly happy. 

Well, supposedly right now she wasn’t. 

Her husband, Lord Barlow, had passed away ten months ago, leaving her with an empty estate, a shiny title and more money than she knew what to do with. Lord Barlow was an old viscount, desperate for an heir and willing to do anything to get one. 

In came Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

Young, beautiful and well-bred, she was the perfect choice for any man of the ton. If only her father hadn’t a penchant for gambling. Perhaps she’d be married to a man more suited for her rather than the oaf of a dustbin she was forced to be with. She was no fool in believing in a love match for herself, rare and far between as they were, no, but she did have half a mind to imagine a kinder man as her husband. A man who perhaps cared even a little bit for her wellbeing. 

No matter. 

A dead man cannot care for her wellbeing either. 

“Lady Barlow,” a maid knocked, entering the ornate drawing room.

“Yes?” (Y/N) did not look up from her reading—the newest edition of Whistledown had just been delivered. While she herself was never one to gossip terribly, it was quite fun to keep up with the circus of the season. 

“Do you plan on attending the Danbury ball this eve?”

“I do not see the point,” she scoffed playfully, “after all, Meg, I am but a widow in mourning.”

“Perhaps her ladyship should reconsider?” Meg asked gently, placing a new pot of tea next to her lady. “I rather think it has been a socially acceptable amount of time since your husband’s passing.”

“If I am not to enjoy the perks of being a widow,” (Y/N) sighed, finally looking up at her favorite lady’s maid, “whatever is the point?”

“Perks that Viscount Barlow has graciously allowed you to use during your time of mourning—”

“The current viscount is all but twelve,” (Y/N) reminded. “He has no use for this estate in Mayfair until he himself becomes an adult, in which, I am sure he and his mother will come to make use of it. I believe if my maths are correct, that leaves me all of six years or so to use this home.”

“Forgive me my lady, but should you not be looking for a new husband, then?”

(Y/N) smiled at Meg. She enjoyed their friendship, her maid being only a handful of years older than herself, it made for a likely pair. “No one wishes to marry a widow,” she said simply, “widows are damaged goods. Every sensible man of the ton will be wanting a pretty little virgin instead.”

“My lady!”

“What?” She barked a laugh. “You know it to be true.”

“Regardless,” Meg said, clearing her throat. “Lord Barlow passed nearly a year ago, the period of mourning is rightfully over. You are expected to rejoin society.”

“Dreadful.”

“It is expected,” Meg repeated.

“It does not make it any less dreadful,” (Y/N) said. “Very well. Pull a dress and prepare a bath, it seems the ton gets to see my dreary face once again.”

—

Anthony Bridgerton was a man scorned. 

Particularly by his own mother in this very instance. How foolish he had been to share his intentions of marriage this season with her—for now she spread the news like a wildfire. Every desperate mama and her equally desperate daughter came flocking to him like bees to honey. 

It was only now, in the dark corner of the ballroom, that he found a respite.

“Looking a bit green, Lord Bridgerton,” a voice beside him called out. 

“I am not—” Anthony had huffed a reply before even knowing whom he was speaking to. “Lady Barlow.”

“I am shocked you can recall my name,” (Y/N) laughed over her champagne flute. “Considering how many new ones you’ve had thrown at you this eve.”

“You are out of mourning.”

“Is that a question?”

“It was an observation,” Anthony corrected.

“What gave it away? My bright dress? No tear stains left on my cheeks?”

“You are here, out and about,” Anthony said. “And, forgive me for not playing along with your delusions, but I do not think you cried much at all for Lord Barlow’s passing.”

“How dare you assume such a thing,” (Y/N) faux gasped. She had intended on pressing a hand to her chest. Intended, anyway. Somehow she forgot all about the champagne currently residing it her grasp. “Damn… this was a new dress too.”

“Good God,” he laughed. “First you are spilling all over yourself like a child and now you are cursing—tell me, do all married ladies act like you?”

“I am a widow,” (Y/N) had found a cloth and begun dabbing up the spill. It had only dribbled at most, but still, it was a new dress. “I rather think I can act the way I please.”

“Like a drunkard?”

“Like a free woman,” she said, fighting every childish urge to stick her tongue out at the viscount. “I am only here to show my face, prove I am still alive and I shall go about my merry way.”

“Lady Danbury is a widow,” Anthony noted. “Yet she still mingles with society.”

“I am not Lady Danbury.”

“You are not.”

“Do you not have young misses to go and woo?” (Y/N)’s eyes hardened. “Take your pick from the litter, Lord Bridgerton, any of them would be pleased to spend such valuable time with you.”

“Are you insinuating you are not?”

“I rather thought it was a statement, yes,” (Y/N) said.

Anthony’s eyes went only a fraction wider, nostrils flaring. “Well, if that is what you wish—”

“It is not a mean of wishing,” she laughed, “but really a necessity.”

“Good evening, Lady Barlow,” Anthony sneered, smoke practically coming out of his ears. If (Y/N) had half a mind she’d call for the authorities to put that fire out, instead, she simply finished her drink and smiled wistfully at the dancing ballroom, feeling fulfilled. 

—

Dearest Gentle Reader,

The season is in full swing thanks to the mark of Lady Agatha Danbury’s ball, a notable and traditional first event of the London scene. Eligible young ladies now on the Marriage Mart were enjoying their first taste at what fine society has to offer, however taxing or daunting it may be. 

Our resident Capital ‘R’ Rake, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is finally deciding on a wife, surely making him the finest catch of the season. Matchmaking mamas and their young ladies alike were seen flocking to him like petulant children asking their parents for pin money, thanks to his own mother, Lady Bridgerton’s declaration of such an idea last night. The viscount seemingly had enough of the attention, taking like a wallflower and hiding away in the back of the ballroom near the end of the evening. 

His company? None other than Lady Barlow, evidently out of mourning as of last night. While the this Author is under good authority that the match between Lady Barlow and the late Lord Barlow was not a love match, given their fourty or fifty year age difference, it has taken the new dowager viscountess longer than most anticipated for her to get back into the season. A woman as young as Lady Barlow would be eager to find another husband to support her, but something tells me that she is quite enjoying her time as a widow and will not easily give that up. 

While this Author has very little idea of the actual nature of the relationship between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Barlow, it is only to be assumed that it is simply not a favorable one. The two were seen making a scene by the refreshment table, a scene that went unnoticed by many prying eyes of the ton, leaving Lord Bridgerton storming away and Lady Barlow with the winning hand. 

Good show, Lady Barlow. 

Lady Whistledown Society Papers

—

“Brother! You are in Whistledown!” Eloise sang to no one in particular. 

“I have no care that I am in that gossip rag,” Anthony ground out, rustling his newspaper. “I can only imagine it is just another advertisement of my search for a wife this season.”

“Er, yes, however—”

“However?” Anthony’s attention immediately shot up to his sister, newspaper be damned. 

“Who is Lady Barlow?” Eloise asked. 

“No one of importance,” Anthony could feel his temperature rising. 

“Lady Barlow?” Benedict laughed. “Is that who you were talking to last night dear Brother? Is she not still in mourning?”

“No.”

“No it is not who you were talking to, or no she is not still in mourning?” Benedict gave his brother an amusing glance.

“Oh, according to Whistledown—”

“Sister—”

“Eloise, you may not recall Lady Barlow, given you only just came out this season,” Benedict began, deciding that this conversation was very much worth his time this morning. “But she used to go by Miss (Y/L/N) before her marriage to the late viscount.”

“(Y/L/N)…” Eloise looked to the ceiling, finding nothing in particular. “Oh! Is she not the woman who—”

“I am taking my leave,” Anthony said abruptly, newspaper all but forgotten. 

“Escaping, Brother?” Benedict asked. 

“I have calls to make,” Anthony sneered, ignoring the pleased face his brother was making. “Excuse me.”

“It seems Lady Barlow is a touchy subject,” Eloise noted as her eldest brother left the drawing room. Benedict snorted. “What?”

“You do not even know the half of it, dear Sister.”

Anthony Bridgerton, did not in fact, have any calls to make. He had no impressionable interactions last night to warrant such a visit to anyone—the Queen was still in need of naming her diamond, after all—but he had no desire to stay and be berated by his family this morning. He truly had no plan, no thought in his head on where he was going, he just simply was. 

Apparently he was going to the park.

It was still early in the day, few people graced the park at such an hour. The few who did, however, were too busy reading the latest Whistledown to even notice him. Anthony saw a handful of post boys running opposite of his direction on his way here, it was only natural they scoped out this location. He knew it was going to be a problem the minute they finished reading—if Lady Whistledown truly wrote about him, which he had no reason to believe his sister was lying about, all eyes would be on him.

“Might as well enjoy the peace and quiet for now,” Anthony exhaled. He took a quick glance at his watch—half past eight. Hardly could he recall a time he took a turn about the park on his own, usually he was in the company of his family or holed away in his study worrying about expenses and the like, never did he take a moment to actually enjoy the grand weather such as the kind today. Determined to enjoy it, he sat down on a favorable bench and watched the birds swim across the pond.

“Unbelievable.”

He turned his head, only to find Lady Barlow dressed in a rather pleasantly pink dress and matching hat, a look of distaste on her face.

“I didn’t take you as the park-going type, Lord Bridgerton,” she nodded, folding her hands. She had been carrying a small red book in one of them. “Especially at such an early hour, too.”

“Lady Barlow,” he nearly sneered. “Can a man not enjoy the park?”

“Oh surely a man can,” (Y/N) agreed. “But you? You are no man.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It seems to me that you’re sitting in my spot,” she ignored his quip, readjusting her stance in annoyance. “This is where I come to read.”

“Can you not read elsewhere?” Anthony asked. “There is an entire park at your disposal.”

“No,” she hummed. “Afraid not.”

“No?” He laughed. “Surely out of the entire park you can find a suitable spot to read your—let me guess—romantically inclined fodder?”

“Poetry,” she corrected, “and no, I cannot simply read elsewhere. The shade is just right under this tree and I rather like overlooking the pond between my chapters.”

“Shame I got here first, then,” Anthony clicked.

“You…!” (Y/N) scoffed, fighting every urge in her body to stomp her foot. “You are an impossible man, surely you know that?”

“I thought you said I was no man?” Anthony’s brow quirked. “Or perhaps I misheard?”

She scowled. “You are not amusing.”

“On the contrary,” Anthony leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms and taking his claim. “I find myself very amusing.”

A duck quacked from the pond, either laughing at the viscount or agreeing with him—it was hard to tell. 

“You leave me no choice,” (Y/N) said sternly, taking a seat on the other end of the bench—feeling worlds apart from the man on the far side. In actuality, it couldn’t have been more than two feet, three at most.

“Truly?” Anthony laughed humorlessly. “You cannot be serious.”

“Hush,” (Y/N) said, opening her book in earnest. “I am trying to read.”

While there had been no guns drawn, this was a duel, in every sense of the word. Both parties sitting still as statues, Anthony’s gaze trained on the pond, (Y/N)’s on her book. Occasionally, she’d flip her page to the next, huffing every time Anthony still did not get up and move on. 

Stubborn. Both of them.

“Will you be quiet?” Anthony said, growing exasperated. “I cannot think when you are breathing so loud—” 

“You wish for me not to breathe?” She shut her book. “I never anticipated you’d wish me dead—”

“Please,” Anthony said. “You know that is not what I mean at all.”

“I never know with you. You, Anthony Bridgerton, are an enigma and I hope I never have the pleasure of truly understanding you,” (Y/N) said, fingers whiting from her grip on her book.

“So you admit it would be pleasurable?”

She wanted to wipe that grin off of his face, how, she was unsure. Idly, she thought about how a good smack to his cheek would feel. Painful in the moment but oh-so wonderful after, cathartic, probably. “I am not getting up.”

“Neither am I.”

“I am willing to die on this bench,” (Y/N) spat.

“Funnily enough,” Anthony’s voice dropped, “so am I.”

“How are you to find your viscountess on this bench?” She asked, angling her body towards the torturous man. “Surely you do not expect her to just walk past?”

“I am sure I can manage,” Anthony said calmly. “Many young ladies will walk this way when they see me sitting here."

“Even with another woman sitting beside you?”

“I rather think they’ll find you easy to ignore, I know I do.”

“Ha! You are truly something else, Lord Bridgerton,” (Y/N) sat straighter. “Insulting a polite woman in public?”

“You are the furthest thing from polite,” Anthony leaned in. “Rude, ostentatious, quite full of herself—”

“Might I offer you a mirror?” The grip on her book tightened, cover bending from the force. “Or are you afraid you’ll see horns?”

“Oh, do they match yours?” He nearly sang. 

“Funny,” she clicked, finally setting her book down, lacing her fingers together in her lap. “You should run a comedy act at the circus, seeing as you are a right clown.”

Anthony stood up, whether by the force of his breath or sheer spite he will never know. “You are the most ridiculous woman I have ever met.”

(Y/N) met his height, now standing as well. “And you are the most irritating man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

“I am going to walk this way,” Anthony said, forcefully pointing to his right, eyes not leaving hers. She did have the most remarkable eyes.

“And I will walk this way,” she pointed to her left, less force in her action but seething all the same. “Have the day you deserve, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Why you little…!”

She had already turned and stomped away, a fuming smudge of pink against the greenery of the park, growing further away with every step.

“What a wretched woman,” he mumbled, looking down at his watch again—nine on-the-dot. In the corner of his eye, something bright red caught his attention. Her book. She had left it behind.

Perhaps he would burn it.

Perhaps he would just put it in his pocket and carry about his day.

In the pocket it went. For now.

[starry-bi-sky]

more incorrect quotes for the stillborn danyal au - dpxdc

---------

Student: so like,, *gesturing to Plasmius* is he like,,, your dad or...?? Phantom: he would be if he wasn't such a BITCH Plasmius: excuse me Phantom: YOU HEARD ME

----------

Under the Bleachers: Danny and Dash smoking in solidarity Dash: Danny: Dash: do you have notes from Lancer's class today Danny: since when do I ever have notes from Lancer's class Danny: I can ask Tucker but only if you have notes from Abernathy's class Dash: deal

-----------

Sam and Tucker: *making s'mores with Danny's lava hair* Danny, as Phantom: >:I Sam: you're just mad because you didn't think of it first Danny: yEAH

-----------

Danny, freshly ghosted: .... Danny: well. at least i dont need to waste money on lighters anymore

-----------

Tucker: with how long your hair gets we may just have to start calling you rapunzel Danny: don't you dare Sam: rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your lava hair Danny: NO

-----------

Danny's hair tie breaks in the middle of a fight Danny: fuck Skulker: language child Danny, pushing lava bangs out of his face: fuck you! just for this im turning your suit into molten slag Skulker: waitholdonwecantALK--

----------

Danny: you know, by your logic Maddie is equally as guilty for abandoning you as Jack. She also never visited you while you were in the hospital. Vlad, had put his infatuation with Maddie aside but still kinda had feelings for her: Vlad: you're right Danny, not used to an adult agreeing with him: I-- huh, I am? Vlad: yes. If Dr. Walker had cared about me -- even if only as a friend, she would have tried to remain in contact with me. But she didn't. She is also as equally guilty for the accident that took your life too since she also failed to properly check over the portal for flaws and any improper wiring. Danny: wait- wait, i mean-- Vlad: this means only one thing Danny, bewildered: ??? Vlad, extinguishing all lingering feelings: I have to kill her too (somehow) Danny: nO.

[haechwrites]

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

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

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

wc: ~17.1k

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

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

-- some things to note first:

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

“Donghyuck! What are you wearing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One hundred more times?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Donghyuck… Donghyuck is the Prince.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why can’t she be my princess?”

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

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

“No more kitchen visits, Prince Donghyuck.”

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

“Yes, ma’am. No more.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

^ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER ^

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

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

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

“Oh my goodness… so it is true!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

“How can I help you, miss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re overwhipping the cream.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“So you are hiding from me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a short pause before The Prince replies.

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

“Eat up,” I say sickeningly sweet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re taller than me, for one,” he gasps in fake shock and I hit him on the shoulder. 

“You’re dressed nicer.”

“That’s not a compliment for me, that’s a compliment for my stylist,” He corrects me.

“True, okay. You’re smarter than before, I can see you’re not skipping your tutoring sessions. And… you’re not as cute.”

At that, he perks up, frosting is long forgotten. “What do you mean I’m not as cute?” And with the face he’s making, I almost take back my words.

“Well, your highness, you were a boy before. Of course, you’re not cute now. You’re a man.” I roll my eyes as if that were the most obvious thing.

“If I’m not cute, then what am I?” He squints at me and I can tell I’ve fallen into a trap.

“You’re… You’re handsome. Now,” I mutter out. I quickly clear my throat and point to a bald spot on the cake. “Hey, you missed a spot.”

Without even looking at him, I know he’s smiling. “You think I’m handsome.”

“Alright,” I drag out the word. “You’re the Prince. Aren’t you supposed to be handsome so you can woo and marry a pretty princess?”

“Not exactly. Being ridiculously handsome isn’t a royal requirement.”

I let out a scoff, “When did I say ‘ridiculously handsome’?”

“You didn’t have to, I see it on your face.” He taps my cheek and I suddenly notice how close our faces have gotten. Before I know it, my face is blooming pink again and I can feel the warmth shoot from my head to the rest of my body. I launch myself back and adjust my apron. And he stares at me like he’s won.

“Okay, your turn. What’s different about me?” I look around the kitchen to get my heart to settle down. What is happening?

The Prince doesn’t hesitate. “Well, you’re just as beautiful as you were before. Maybe even more.”

I gasp at his words and look him in the eyes. There’s no hint of his typical teasing attitude; he looks completely genuine. My mind goes blank and my ability to respond is rendered useless. He seems to notice that so he brushes off his comment quickly, thinking he’s overstepped.

“Anyways, since we’ve discovered that the only thing that makes me different from before is that I’m exceptionally more handsome-”

“Didn’t say that.”

“-Then why don’t you just call me ‘Donghyuck.’ Like you did before.”

Maybe it’s because he called me beautiful. Maybe it’s because I like the idea of exclusively calling him ‘Donghyuck.’ Or maybe I’m excited to eat the cake we just made, but my heart is fluttering quicker than it ever has.

“Okay. Donghyuck.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“FIRE! DONGHYUCK! FIRE, FIRE!”

“OH SHIT!”

Watching the medium sized fire bursting from the top of the pot, I run to the fire extinguisher. I’m scrambling to grab it, swift to squeeze the white dust all over the burning stove, despite the dough covering my hands. I hear Donghyuck’s screams in the back and he’s grabbing my shoulders to hide. Once I see the last flame get coated, I drop the extinguisher on the ground, exhausted.

I feel his hands digging into my shoulder blades and I grab him by the jacket, turning him to face me. Knowing how to cover his ass, he smiles in shame, rubbing my arm.

“I swear I was watching the stove,” He whips out his baby voice and try my best not to smack the side of his head. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince. He’s the Prince, I repeat to myself. 

“Your looks distracted me.” I slap him anyways.

He groans in pain, even though I could’ve slapped harder and I cross my arms to look as threatening as possible. 

“You burnt the caramel,” I whine, staring at the black tar in my brand new pot. “And my pot!”

He immediately attacks me with a hug, shaking me around, mumbling apologies. “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise! I’ll buy you three! Four? Seven!”

“Make it eight,” I huff, tearing his arms off me, only to weirdly miss them.

He gasps, hands against his head in shock. “You definitely dressed prettier today just so I could set your pot on fire and buy you twenty more… You’re evil,” He looks at me like I’ve masterminded the biggest robbery of the century. 

I narrow my eyes at him, lifting my hand to smack him again. “And you’re on timeout. No more baking today.” I start putting away the dishes I had ready.

“Hey! Who’s older here?” Donghyuck begins helping me sort the supplies into the pantry.

“I’m pretty sure I am,” I say, trying to remember if we told each other our birthdays back then.

“When were you born?”

“May.”

“Shit,” He mutters. He tosses the burnt pot into the trashcan, wincing at the char. “Okay, let’s keep the ball rolling. What’s your favorite color?”

I laugh, “Really? Also should I save this dough for tomorrow when we try again?” I hold it up to show him and inspects it.

“Yeah, why not? Just wear a trashbag or something tomorrow.” I kick him in the foot and he chuckles. “But yes, really. What’s your favorite color? I like red.”

“Purple,” I play along while saran wrapping the dough. “Favorite food?”

“Kimchi jjigae,” he spits out, with no hesitation. I nod along, remembering all the times he’s requested it as a midnight snack while we bake. “What do you like to do besides baking?”

“I like to go on walks. When I moved out of the city and with my dad, we lived near the beach. It was nice to just walk on the shore only five minutes away from me. I miss it sometimes. I should probably visit soon.” I tap the bowl mindlessly, trying to figure out my schedule.

“You should take me,” Donghyuck says. He’s right next to me now. “I always wondered where you went after I stopped seeing you. I assumed you were still in the city, until your grandma told me you moved-moved.”

“Ohh, no, yeah. I moved. It was hard leaving everything I knew, but at the same time, I learned so much when I was there with my dad. Come with me next time, and we can hangout on the beach. Nothing should be too flammable there.” I tease, bumping his hip with mine. He laughs with me, but I can tell his mind is somewhere else. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks almost guilty.

“You know, when I found out you were the Prince, I wrote down a list of questions. I was so excited to see what your life is like.” 

This grabbed his attention and my heart eased seeing his eyes light up a little more. The kitchen was relatively clean now, so I decided to prop myself up on the counter. Donghyuck always gets mad at the sudden height difference, but I can tell he loves it when he naturally wedges himself between my thighs like he does right now.

“Yeah? Do you remember any?” His hands were pinned on either side of my hips, forearms pressed against my outer thighs. It’s comfortable. I’m not sure when we got so comfortable. “This is kind of like ‘Princess and The Pauper.’”

I snort trying to remember my list. “I think I wanted to know how many crowns you had.”

“Classic question. I’m pretty sure I have three. My head’s kinda small, so it actually takes awhile for them to make it.”

I hum, investigating his head. “I can tell.”

“Mean.” He lightly pinches my thigh and I stop staring at his skull.

“I also wanted to know if you had any royal pets.”

“A cute, small, white dog. Yep.” He nods, like he’s impressed with himself for having such a basic dog and I have to laugh. 

“Any cool cars?”

“Tons,” He brags. “Okay, what does ‘Adult You’ want to know?”

There’s always been a question I wanted to ask him since I started hanging out with him again. It nagged in the back of my mind as I watched him, always happy, always cheering everyone on. Despite his bright facial expressions and body language, I could tell it was tiring, it must be. I never imagined the royal life to be hard, or as hard as my own, until I met him again.

I look at his face, checking for any signs that I shouldn’t be asking him. But he looks at me with such softness and openness, that I don’t hesitate to ask.

“Are you happy? Like… do you like being the Prince?”

His eyes widened at my question and he looks down at my lap to think. He takes longer than I expect, and I assume no one has ever bothered to ask. His silence is telling.

“Hey…,” I reach for his face to lift his chin up. “It’s okay to say you’re not. You don’t have to be all the time.”

He flinches like this was a concept he couldn’t accept for himself. I grab his face a little tighter so he really hears me.

“As long as you’re at least looking for your happiness, that’s all that matters,” I stroke his cheek with my thumb. “You deserve all the happiness, Hyuck.”

I can see his mind slowly wrapping around my words as something in his face shifts. He looks hesitant for a different reason.

“And what if I find my happiness in you?” I gasp, instinctively letting go of his face slightly. He’s fast to bring his hand up to keep mine there. His fingers slot between my gaps. He looks desperate to keep me here.

Knowing my words hold immense weight, I still don’t stop myself from saying, “Then I’ll be that for you, in whatever way I can.”

Despite me being vague, Donghyuck takes all that he can. His face blooms into a smile and I return it, knowing it was cause of me. He holds my hand this time and brings it down to my lap, sighing happily.

“Thank you.”

And for a split second, I’m scared for what I’ve promised. After all, he’s the prince and I’m the pauper.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

Donghyuck is the happiest he has ever been. Unlike how it was when he was a kid, he’s attending his classes, his meetings, and even having lunches with the princesses the Queen sends over. However, he can’t promise that these dates are leading up to a potential marriage. He’s doing just enough so that his mother doesn’t get suspicious. Best of all, for most nights, he gets to sneak into the kitchen and talk, bake, and laugh for hours.

The secret hangouts are going amazingly. He can tell she’s warming up to him as she did back then or maybe it’s just the fire from the oven heating up the place. Last week, the kitchen at her new bakery finally finished being built and he knows this because he hired his staff to make sure the job was done well without telling her. That day he expected her to come in and tell him that she had to stop seeing him, but she still showed up like clockwork – two to three times a week. 

Next week, her bakery is set to have its grand opening and Donghyuck hopes this isn’t what actually stops her from coming to see him. He’s even practiced his baking skills on his own and eaten less of the fruit while they’re together in hopes it doesn’t make her want to leave again. And so for the following week, Donghyuck is treading carefully.

“Do you need help with that, Princess?”

“Should I preheat the oven for you?”

“Here, let me tie your apron.”

“I’ll carry that for you.”

All of these mini acts of chivalry are met with a suspicious gaze and a light dusting of red on her cheeks. Donghyuck feels a sense of achievement whenever she accepts his help. And this all leads up to the night before her grand opening.

Donghyuck is lighting the last candle when the sound of keys unlocking the side kitchen door is heard. He quickly blows out the match before scurrying behind the table to greet her with a “Surprise!”

“Donghyuck! Don’t do that! God, I thought I was caught for sneaking in.”

He rolls his eyes at her lackluster reaction and reorients himself. 

“I said… Surprise!” He dramatically waves his arms around to show all the work he put into decorating the kitchen. She finally notices her surroundings and her eyes light up. Donghyuck can feel his heart soften, compared to how it was racing earlier trying to set all of this up without his staff.

“What… what is all of this?” Her hands are covering her mouth in disbelief. There are streamers and fairy lights gracing the walls and candles are littered all around the room. Donghyuck is standing in the center with a single cupcake in his hands.

“Congrats. I heard from the grapevine that your bakery opens tomorrow.” She laughs at his theatrics and sets her bag down to look at the cupcake he’s made. In messy red font, the top of the treat reads the name of her bakery. She almost wants to tear up.

“Only one? Are we sharing?” She takes the cupcake from his hands and he tries not to think too hard about her fingers touching his.

“Well, I made that myself, and I personally don’t trust that I didn’t mess up the recipe in some way. So if anyone’s getting food poisoning tonight, it’d be you.” He taps her nose. “Eat up!”

At that, her jaw drops and she keeps the cupcake at a distance as if it’s some nuclear substance.

“Do you secretly want me dead?” She laughs.

“Hey, when it comes down to a royal and a baker. The baker’s going.” Donghyuck mimics his throat being slit and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling too hard. He loves to mess with her.

“You are the worst. Way to look out for your people, your highness.” She begins to unwrap the cupcake, taking a sniff out of precaution.

“‘Your Highness’? Aw, Princess, don’t be like that.” He moves closer to her and she shifts back, tutting.

“Nope. As a baker under your kingdom, I will gladly sacrifice myself by eating this cupcake. Alone.” She dramatically curtsies before going in for a hesitant bite.

Donghyuck swiftly beats her to it and takes a large bite out of the other end as her lips touch the cupcake. Her eyes widen in shock and he sends her a wink before brushing the crumbs off his mouth.

“Now you can’t tell me I don’t care about my people,” He says while chewing the weird texture of his creation. Donghyuck smirks at the deer-in-headlights reaction she has on her face. 

She gulps, shaking her head so that her hair hides her blush. She sets the cupcake down, not wanting a reminder of how close his face just was.

“Well, it’s edible,” She jokes. Donghyuck’s tongue prods the inside of his mouth as he takes in what was supposedly a compliment.

“Says the one who took the smallest bite known to man,” He accuses, pointing at the cupcake.

“How was I supposed to take a bigger one when you practically shoved your face into it and devoured half?” Once again, she’s reminded of what just transpired and feels her cheeks growing warm.

“Ooo, did I make you flustered? Scared your lips were about to touch mine?” Donghyuck takes a step closer and brushes a nonexistent crumb off her lip with his thumb. He hopes she doesn’t feel his heart pounding like fireworks.

Like she can sense his fake confidence, she grabs his wrist. “Is that what you were thinking about when you took a bite? Kissing me?” She tilts her head to the side and his whole body buzzes.

Before he could crumble even further, he tears his hand out of hers. “Please. Like I’d let anyone touch these royal lips.” He turns around to calm himself down and pretends to busy himself with something on the fridge.

He hears her laugh behind him. “I bet they’re not as sweet as a baker’s.”

He turns around and narrows his eyes at her. “How did this grand opening celebration turn into you messing with me?” Accepting defeat, he resorts to fake anger and his signature pout.

“You started it,” She playfully rolled her eyes. “Anyways…”

With the softest smile, she says, “Thank you, Hyuck. I really appreciate you.”

He returns it, “Always.”

The rest of the night is filled with laughter and playful bickering as the two avoid finishing the mysteriously textured cupcake. Donghyuck makes multiple attempts to pit the blame on her as the teacher, and the soon-to-be bakery owner fails to leave and sleep early at the expense of the Prince’s whines. To be honest, the lack of sleep was worth it if she got to spend more time with him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Now that the bakery is well past its grand opening and flourishing greatly, I’ve gotten my days back. My employees are well-trained and seasoned and I feel comfortable taking days off when I need to. Oddly, my new opened-up schedule was somehow sensed by Donghyuck and I was invited to the palace during the daytime for the first time ever. I was nervous at first to be sneaking in in broad daylight, but he assured me that if I followed the steps he gave me exactly, I’d be fine – not that reassuring. 

As written in his note, I greeted Yunseo, the guard, as usual, and he gave me weird looks, going back and forth between the sun and my face.

“You know the sun is out, right?” He asked, still looking at me funny.

I gave him the most incredulous look. “You’re joking? It’s not nighttime?” I made an effort to crazily look around and he sighed.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d switch things up,” I shrugged, not wanting to reveal who I was meeting.

Yunseo nodded, “Fair… okay, be careful, okay? The palace feels a little frantic today.” With that, he opened the gates for me and I gave him a smile.

“You’re the best. Make sure to stop by sometime this week, I have pastries for you.” I waved goodbye as he promised to come. 

Following Donghyuck’s poorly drawn-out map, I realized our meeting point isn’t the kitchen and that he’s taking me on an obscure path that the Queen and King definitely are not aware exists. As I walk through centuries-old, dimly lit stone walls, I think about how many times Donghyuck has used these secret passageways and if little Donghyuck used these when he snuck out to see me, 15 years ago. I can imagine 7-year-old Donghyuck discovering these routes within the castle’s walls.

“Stop right there!” A voice echoes through the abandoned hallway.

My heart spazzes and as loud as my brain is yelling at me to run, my feet don’t budge. I curse under my breath and crumple Donghyuck’s map in my hands, remembering to kill him unless I die right here. And if I do happen to die here, then I have to make sure I return as a ghost, haunting that man for life. I turn around slowly, eyes half closed, to see who’s behind me, but there’s no one there. There’s no one in the passageway at all. I whip around a few more times to confirm and I notice a crack in the wall to my right. It’s a peephole overlooking the actual palace hallways.

Out of curiosity, I look through and I see the Queen, face as red as the beautiful gown she adorns.

“Prince Lee Donghyuck,” his name is spat out like bile. “You will follow my orders.”

Coming into view, I see Donghyuck. He and the Queen are in the middle of a heated argument. His head is hung low and I can see him playing with his sleeves like he does when he gets anxious. I wish to reach for him, but then I remember the wall separating us.

“Your majesty, I… I can’t. I don’t want to,” He hiccups, and if I can’t see the tears on his face, I can hear them. “I never did.”

The space in my chest feels as tight and narrow as the walkway I’m in and I want to look away, but I can’t.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You are the Prince and you are expected to marry a Princess. How dare you fool me for all these years?” As the Queen, she still carries her natural elegance, but her words burn like acid. She’s speaking to him at a normal volume, but her tone pierces your ears. 

“I-I didn’t mean to fool you. I tried my best, but I don’t love them. I don’t love the suitresses you send. And I need you to understand that I never will.” Donghyuck finally looks up and I can see the desperation in his eyes from where I stand. 

“Love?,” The Queen laughs bitterly. “I don’t need you to love them. You just need to marry one. As the Prince, what makes you think you have the privilege of being in love? Not when you have a country to rule.” There’s less anger in her words and more disappointment. 

Donghyuck winces, looking like he’s fighting back what he wants to say. His bottom lip is trembling and the grip he has on his sleeves is tight. His whole body practically shakes. Eventually, he lets go.

“If I’m not meant to love someone, then explain to me why I already do. Explain to me why I love her? Explain to me why I can’t have her?!” 

Tears are rolling down his cheeks like heavy rainfall. “I never asked for this!” He screams, and I wonder to which he’s referring to. 

My body is sweaty like I ran a mile and I feel like my breathing can be heard through the wall. He never mentions my name, but I know, I can feel, that he’s talking about me. My whole body is buzzing and I don’t know whether to feel ecstatic or sad. Despite my confusion, one feeling is clear: fear. Before I can hear what the Queen has to say, I run. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

“Oh God. Sorry, I was supposed to get here before you. I was supposed to be part of the surprise,” He smiles meekly, praying the puffiness from crying doesn’t make him look strange. He accidentally sniffles and hopes she blames it on the flowers and his chronic allergies.

She’s sitting in the garden chair next to the tea table Donghyuck had set up an hour ago. He scoped out a secluded spot in the royal garden and slowly put everything together. He moves to sit down across from her and she’s staring intently at the cup in front of her. 

“I asked Gran what your favorite tea is and brewed some for us. I know I don’t have your baking skills, but if we get hungry, we can sneak back to the kitchen,” he playfully winks, trying to hide the fact that he was in the worst state five minutes ago. Although he can’t bake, he can definitely make a good batch of tea. He hopes it hasn’t gone cold. 

He waits for a response, but she’s still frozen, chewing the inside of her cheek. Maybe he’s still on edge from his argument with the Queen, but she doesn’t look happy. This is definitely not the reaction he was expecting.

“Do you wanna try the tea? I bet it’ll amaze you so much, you’ll beg me for the recipe,” he teases. The teapot hovers over her cup, but she makes no move to accept it.

“Okay, no tea. That’s fine,” Donghyuck chooses to laugh it off. “Do you wanna walk around? Most of the garden is secluded so we don’t have to worry about someone catching us.”

“Would that be so bad?” The first words she whispers strike him with confusion. Her voice is dry like she just strained it.

“Huh?” He tilts his head, scooting his chair in closer to hear her.

“Would that be so bad?” She says, unable to bate her anger. “Being caught with me? Would his royal highness hate being found walking with me?”

“Hey,” Donghyuck grabs her hand from her lap, interlocking his fingers. “What’s going on?” She tears her hand out from his hold like it stung and he feels like he’s making mistake after mistake.

“I-I’m sorry, is this too much? I wanted to do something nice for our first date outside of the kitchen. Was this a mistake?” He starts to stack the plates, quickly discarding his work. “I usually don’t plan these myself, so I’m sorry if this is bad. I-”

Donghyuck sees her wince in his peripheral and feels her hand on his wrist as he’s about to haphazardly dump the tea in the bushes. Her hands are cold today.

“Date?” The word leaves her mouth as if it made her sick.

The alarms go off in Donghyuck’s mind. “Date? Did I say date? Sorry, I actually mean-”

“Donghyuck,” she cuts him off. He can see her harshly swallow. “Why are you doing this?”

He blinks. “I… I wanted to do something nice for us. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Donghyuck can feel himself beginning to ramble.

“No. Why have you been hanging out with me? If it’s because you feel guilty about ditching me all those years ago, forget about it. I don’t care anymore.” She looks at him with so much intensity, not only trying to convince him, but convince herself that none of this matters.

“Princess, please. No, it’s not out of pity. You know that.” He shakes his head almost violently, begging her to believe his honest intentions. He was shocked he had to convince her in the first place, always assuming she knew his heart better than him.

Completely ignoring him, she continues, “And why aren’t you married yet?”

“W-what?” Similar to whiplash, Donghyuck feels like his brain has just been jostled. Are his ears tricking him and forcing him to relive the traumatic conversation he just had with his mother? Why is this topic being brought up?

“You’re the Prince,” she says like it’s an unwavering fact. “You’re meeting with princesses weekly. You’re meant to rule side by side as King and Queen. Why… why aren’t you married yet?” She asks and her eyes are ice cold like her hands. 

She too closely resembles the older woman who was just yelling at him moments ago. The casing around his heart begins to harden and the feeling he gets from the girl in front of him is now anger. The same bitter taste returns in his mouth.

“Are you serious?” He looks at her and the Donghyuck she knows has washed away. Betrayal, rage, and sorrow are painted across his face. It was like she was looking through the peephole again.

“Don’t ask stupid questions you know the answers to,” he mutters, words barely making it past his tight lips. He’s breathing much harder than before.

“Answer me. Why. Aren’t. You. Married.” Her hands are gripping the edge of her knees to stop them from shaking. 

Donghyuck stares at her for a long time, eyes flittering over every facial feature, confirming that she actually wants to hear the answer. Her face is firm and her question is set. He takes a deep, pained breath and leans back slightly.

“It’s because I love you.” Not like the confession he imagined in his head, Donghyuck reveals his long-term feelings like this was their end and not their new beginning. The period at the end of a sentence. The last page of a hardcover book. The last second on a timer.

She simply nods, stiff in the neck. She excuses herself before standing up, bowing, and walking away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That’ll be $6.06. Would you like your receipt?”

The cash register dings with another purchase and I slump back in my chair as the customer leaves. It was a slow and agonizing shift with only two more hours till closing. It’s also been a slow and agonizing two weeks. 

I’m haunted by what went down at the royal garden almost every hour of the day. At first, I was using every chance I could get to skip work and wallow at home. But suddenly the plants in my room reminded me of him and the teacups in my cabinets smelled like the tea he prepared for us. So for the second week, I decided to dedicate myself to work. I’ve been coming in every single day and overworking myself to the point where my employees don’t know what to do but stand around. I debate whether or not to let them leave early when a familiar head of brown hair walks in. My heart picks up its pace and it’s like the teacups all over again.

“Donghyu- oh. Hi, welcome!” I smile wide, trying to hide the previous disappointment drawn on my face. The customer gives me an awkward smile back and begins browsing the pastry racks as I mentally slap myself.

I slump down to the floor behind the counter and silently groan in my hands. Why does every male brunette customer these past two weeks remind me of him? And why are there so many of them? Like every other time I’ve confused a customer with Donghyuck, the guilt begins to creep back into my system and I get flashbacks of our last conversation. 

“Why aren’t you married?,” I mock my own voice. “Are you stupid?” I repeatedly hit my palms against my head when I hear a ding from the counter bell. I quickly shoot up and brush the bangs out of my face, hoping the customer thinks I’m at least slightly normal.

“Hi, how can I hel- Grandma!” On instinct, I glance behind her, foolishly hoping he’s hiding behind her tiny frame, and my shoulders slump when I’m met with no one. So now I’m really imagining him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, composing myself.

“Just checking in on you. I notice you haven’t been coming to the kitchen because when I come in in the mornings, my counter is actually clean,” she jokes. I smile sheepishly and nervously adjust the apron string around my neck. 

“Sorry, it’s usually Donghyuck’s fault,” I quickly clear my throat, answering a little too fast. “The Prince, I mean.”

Grandma’s eyebrows shoot up at the mention of his name and she looks down at her feet, suddenly fidgety. I notice her change in demeanor instantly. 

“Speaking of him…”

“We don’t need to,” I cut her off. “Speak about him, I mean.” I wince at how suspicious my words sound.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I’m just curious… if anything happened between you two.” She whispers the last part, looking back at the customer to make sure he can’t hear. She clears her throat and steps behind the counter with me, naturally rearranging the bread in the display case. She busies herself while encouraging me to speak.

I gnaw on my lip, tapping the counter, debating if I should finally talk it out with someone. I’ve only been talking to my employees about bread starters and yeast.

“We fought.” I admit.

“About?” Grandma loads the case with more bread. I start passing them to her one by one. 

“He told me… he told me he loved me.” I press my lips together and I hear her head hit the top of the display case and the bread hit the floor. “Grandma! Are you okay?”

I crouch down, grabbing the top of her head to inspect, and she’s giving me the most incredulous look.

“He told you he loved you?!” She squealed at an embarrassingly non-discrete volume, making the customer drop the pastry in his hands. He’s looking around, frazzled, and I can see him debate whether or not he should pick it back up.

“Don’t worry about it! I’ll clean it up!” I screamed from behind the counter. 

“Grandma, keep it down,” I curse through my teeth.

She’s rubbing her head and shaking it in either pain or confusion.

“I know, I know. A Prince saying he’s in love with the baker’s granddaughter is farfetched and unrealistic. I get it.” It’s what has been circling through my brain every day.

“That’s not what I’m confused about, dear.” She looks like she’s debating what to say next. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear what?” At the end of my question, and like a universal sign, the door jingles and the mailman is rushing in, hair swept back by the wind. 

“Sorry! I forgot to drop this off this morning. It’s urgent mail.” He salutes and is out the door as quickly as he enters. 

On the counter is a letter with the royal stamp. My stomach feels queasy assuming this is the first contact I’ve had from Donghyuck since our fight, but I can’t help the naive smile that breaks out on my face. I rush to open it, not worrying about the papercuts. Every doubt that was just in my head disappeared and my grandma interjects, hoping to bring me back down from my high.

“Sweetie, wait. I need to tell you that-”

To the owner of Princess Bakery,

Prince Lee Donghyuck will be celebrating his union with Princess Nam Soohae on 26 May, 2023 at the royal garden grounds. The royal family requests a wedding cake to be made with your expertise and culinary skills. 

Please accept this royal assignment with details soon to come.

Signed,

The Lees

The words on the page silenced me and my thoughts, my breaths barely leaving my lips. My eyes kept darting across the paper; the calligraphed words are being repeated over and over again in my brain. 

Prince Lee Donghyuck.

His union.

Wedding cake.

Realization finally dawns that this isn’t the love letter or apology I was expecting from Prince Donghyuck. A breath finally escapes and it’s shaky as it wavers in the air like an offkey music note. A heart-stopping pain envelopes my chest and it seizes up to my eyes. The whites of the paper burn my irises. I catch a teardrop splattering onto the parchment. I’m haunted with images of Donghyuck at the altar with someone else. And then I’m thinking about the garden. And us. 

Surprise.

Our first date.

Because I love you.

Because he loves me? Because Prince Lee Donghyuck loves me? Prince Lee Donghyuck who is getting married to an actual princess in a week? Suddenly, it feels like the floor’s unsteady and the oven temperature was turned up to the highest. The letter wrinkles between my fingers and the ink smudges with salty tears. 

This is what I was afraid of. And yet this is what I set myself up for. I knew I should have stopped seeing him. I knew it the moment mango tarts began to remind me of him. The moment my secret ingredient of love found in every bake was powered by him and his place in my heart. Even though I meant to stop this from happening during our talk in the royal garden, that small teaspoon of hope was still sprinkled in my mind. That hope stayed every time I saw a plant, a teacup, or a brunette. But now it’s dissolved.

A new feeling washes over me. One that I haven’t felt once these past two weeks. Not false hope. Not heartbreak. And not regret.

Anger. 

“Don’t blame him.” 

My grandma’s words slice through the red and her hands on my arms attempt to calm me down. I look up through wet lashes, lips trembling.

“Donghyuck… Prince Donghyuck had no say. The royals… they never do.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my grandma?” I clench my jaw to stop the shaking, slightly regretting my bitter words. 

Her grip is softer. “Oh honey, I am. And that’s why I’m telling you not to waste this energy on being mad at him. What you guys share is beautiful, don’t let this taint it.” She takes the letter out of my hands and physically turns me to face her.

“Shared,” I corrected her.

“Share,” She corrects me. “Your love for each other is seen by everyone. I know it can’t flourish the way love is supposed to, but at least cherish it for what it was.”

Her words reintroduce more feelings. Sorrow. Frustration. 

“I was really hoping this time it works out…” She voices my thoughts.

At this point, I’m hiccupping between breaths, caught between reliving the past and hearing these explanations. The world was never meant to have us together it seems. But at least I was told this time we had an ending.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next royal letter came two days after the first, and I was called to spend a week in the royal palace to test out different wedding cakes. I essentially had no choice but to say yes as the royal chauffeurs picked me up every morning to take me there. It felt like those sunrises with my grandma when I was seven but the butterflies in my stomach turned into bees. Unlike the past, I prayed I wouldn’t run into Prince Donghyuck, but with him having requested I make his cake, I’m sure he knows I’m here.

My grandma designated a portion of the kitchen to me as the head baker and it mimicked the old days as much as it could. That was until I got a visitor on the second day.

“Good morning! I’m Princess Nam Soohae.”

My eyes widened and my whisk fell out of my grasp as I took in her presence. She’s beautiful. She’s an actual princess. Her bright, toothy smile would’ve made anyone smitten if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to marry the man I loved. The pretty pink dress she wore was tinted green through my eyes. I shook my head, trying to remind myself of my place. 

“Good morning,” I bowed. “I’m the baker in charge of your wedding cake.” My smile faltered only slightly with the mention of the union.

She giggles and I almost want to laugh with her. “I know that, silly. I was sent by the Queen to sample some. Or should I say my future mother-in-law.” She bites her perfectly manicured nail with excitement.

Soohae leans her hands on the counter and peers at the bowl in my hand.

“Is there any to try right now?” Her head surveys the kitchen like a kid looking for cookies. It’s genuinely hard to dislike her.

“Um, I have a few cakes placed to the side to cool right now. There’s no frosting on it yet, but I’m sure it’d be good to try the base first!” I move to grab one of the trays and she flutters to follow me.

“Ooooh!” She gushes. “I’m so excited to try it. My own wedding cake, can you believe it?”

“No.” I almost drop the cake. “I mean, yes? Sorry. Getting married to the one you love is… it’s a crazy thing.” I cut a piece of cake and place it on a plate for her.

She doesn’t hesitate to take a bite and as she chews, she thinks. 

“I don’t love him yet, to be honest. This cake is really good, by the way.” I start cutting a slice from the other cake to sample. “But I know I will love him eventually. I already get butterflies when I look at him. I trust that he’s the one for me, I mean have you seen him?”

Before I can agree, and thank god she doesn’t give me a second to, she continues, “I know it’s silly for a person in my position to believe in the one. But I really, really do think it could be him. The other day he brought me my favorite flowers, like how did he know?!” She pops a bite of the other cake in and her eyes light up.

“Oh this is the one! Don’t even think about giving me another,” The Princess reaches for another bite and applauds me.

I laugh and make sure to note to go with the lemon base and not the mango one. As my hands are about to toss the mango cake away, my mind stops me and I consider whether Donghyuck would prefer this instead. The clanking of the Princess’s fork on the plate, finishing the lemon cake slice till it’s crumbs, reels me back and I let the cake fall into the garbage. It feels eerily like a metaphor.

For the rest of the week, Princess Soohae visits me and taste tests the frosting, fondant, and other things she wants. With every passing day, I hear more about Haechan and I can feel that her words have turned fonder. Coincidentally, her sweet tooth has gotten worse and the final components of the wedding cake are a complete sugar bomb like her personality.

On my final day, the Queen joins her. The last time I saw her majesty, she was berating the Prince as I secretly watched. It felt like I was in that hidden passageway again as she watches me prepare a slice of the wedding cake for her. My hands shake, placing the plate down in front of her and her gaze is sharp. It’s interesting how harsh her energy is when her facial features are as soft as the Prince’s. She looks like she’s been through a lot and I wonder if Donghyuck will experience the same thing when he fulfills his role as King. Like she can tell I’m thinking about him, The Queen’s eyes narrow. 

“I hope you enjoy,” I bow, and she doesn’t say a word. Princess Soohae on the other hand is completely bubbling over how good it turned out and how her guests are sure to love it too. 

The Queen simply nibbles on a piece and nods along. The black and white vibes almost give me whiplash as I stand there, watching the two of them. A sweat forms on my hairline and I’m internally glad this is my last day. I can’t go through this any longer. 

And like a karmic jinx, the kitchen door opens and a familiar brunette walks in. This time, it is him.

“Oh my! Prince Donghyuck!” Princess Soohae scrambles off her chair and bows both gracefully and clumsily. I bow as well, trying hard to hide the immediate blush on my face I get whenever I see him. I wonder if I can stay bowing so I don’t have to meet his face. The last time we saw each other was when we talked at the royal garden, and as much as I prayed I wouldn’t run into him here, truthfully, a part of me also hoped I would.

As soon as I force myself to stand up straight, we lock eyes and the strain in my chest loosens like a snapped thread. I can feel my lungs fill with air and it’s relieving to see him again after so long. It hurts in the best way as I’m overwhelmed by his presence. That familiar brown waved hair, the sunkissed tan skin, and the plump smiley cheeks. Everything is how I left it but his expression is not one I expected. He’s in complete shock and I don’t know what to do but look around the room to find something that would cause such surprise. I quickly glance at the Queen, and for the first time since she sat down, there’s a small lift in the corner of her mouth. Is she smirking?

“Princess?” He tilts his head, still staring at me before he realizes what he just called me. “Princess! Princess Soohae! I came to get you.” He runs over to grab her hand and the lifted cheekbones on her face tells me she’s grinning. 

“What- uh- what’s going on?” I’m fixated on the way he fiddles with her hand as he looks around the room for answers. 

“Cake testing? How did you forget, silly?” Princess Soohae laughs as she playfully pats his cheeks. Everyone in the room can tell she’s head over heels and my stomach hurts. As I’m clutching my stomach and the Prince stares at me quizzically, there’s one person in the room watching all of this go down.

“She’s the wedding cake baker we outsourced, Prince Donghyuck.” The Queen says calmly, gesturing to me. She tells him like it’s his first time hearing this and I’m taken aback, my movements making the utensils on the table quiver slightly.

“He didn’t know?” My mouth was too quick to voice my thoughts. “His highness, I mean.” I bow in apology.

“No. No, I didn’t.” His hands are at his side now, gripping the fabric of his sleeves. The shock left his face and now he’s staring at me with pity and then silent anger when his head turns towards the Queen. My eyes follow his and she returns his look as if to challenge him to say more. 

Completely obvious to the shift in atmosphere, Princess Soohae raves about the final wedding cake decisions and begs the Prince to try a bite. He turns her down without sparing a glance and asks her to leave with him. He doesn’t give me a second thought as he breaks eye contact with the Queen and drags his future wife away. There’s no stopping the ache that fills my chest again, slow but strong like the rising tide.

“So he still likes you.”

Snapped out of my haze, my ears don’t believe the words I hear coming from the Queen’s lips.

“Pardon?” She’s looking at me now and it’s a mixture of disappointment and disinterest etched on her face. The warmth on her face has depleted. 

“My son. Prince Donghyuck. He still likes you,” she laughs dryly. “After all these years…” 

My eyebrows furrow and I feel myself getting dizzy. Maybe this is all some sort of hallucination and the Queen isn’t talking to me right now. I grip the counter for support, and she doesn’t wait for me to respond.

“You know, I thought I handled the issue 15 years ago when I asked the head baker to stop bringing you here. I was stupid to think it would be that easy when he purposely sabotaged every date I set up for him the years after.”

She’s twirling the fork on the plate now and the scrapes make me flinch. The kitchen no longer feels like a safe space for me right now as her words slowly suffocate me. 

“And when he started to actually go on these dates this year and report back to me that they’re going well? I was foolish to think it was him beginning to try. I saw you one day, back in this kitchen. Back in his life. It all made sense and it made me so angry.” Her hands grip the fork handle. They’re dainty, but if you look close, they’re calloused, indicating years of work. Her face appears the same. If it weren’t for the terrifying state I was in, I would’ve wanted to comfort her. She looks up at me, and I felt tinier than I did before, her eyes piercing into me. 

“Do you not understand the life I’m trying to set up for Donghyuck? He’s the future king. He needs a queen, a real queen to survive in this world. As the queen, I know firsthand what he needs. My king wouldn’t be anywhere without me and his mother who set me up with him. You’re not fit for this role and you never will be.” She finally sets the fork down with a clatter. 

“Listen to me, and let him go. It’s what’s best.” Her threatening nature fades as quickly as it came and she gracefully stands up, brushing the nonexistent debris on her gown. The Queen gives me one final look, waiting for me to bow and essentially agree, before leaving the kitchen. 

The air returns and I grasp my chest to let myself breathe. Tears prick the corner of my eyes as I choke back sobs.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Remember, it’s the room on the right hallway. Third door. And if anyone sees you, don’t tell them I sent you. I’ll get in trouble.” My grandma hammers in the details one more time, waiting for me to nod in confirmation.

It’s the end of my final day and she asked me to deliver pastries to a room in the palace before I leave, saying her workload is too large to be going herself. I figured it’s one more thing I could do before I never step foot in the palace again. I almost turned her down earlier in fear of running into the Queen. Just the thought of that happening makes me feel sick, but I know I won’t be seeing her again after this anyways.

I scoff, “So you’d rather I get sent to the guillotine?” I tease her with an exaggerated horrified look. 

She easily flicks my forehead, despite our height difference, and I grab it wincing. “You’re lucky I don’t chop off your head myself with that attitude of yours.” She sneers at me and I giggle.

“Fair…,” I playfully mutter, soothing the area between my brows.

Her directions sent me to a room with beautiful brown double doors. I smile at the two ladies standing outside of it and I’m about to explain why I’m here before they cut me off.

“Pastry delivery for the Prince?” They say in unison.

Like a horror movie, my jaw drops and I lose my instinct to run. One thing I do know is to make sure I yell at my grandma later as I nod and tell them they’re correct. She completely set me up.

On another occasion, I would’ve appreciated the doors to Prince Donghyuck’s bedroom more, but right now, they look like the gates of Hell. I attempt to swallow whatever saliva was left in my suddenly dry mouth as I brushed my hair out of my face. The ladies allow me to knock on the door. My palms are sweaty as I shakily knock on the varnished wood, hearing it echo into the space on the other side. His room must be huge.

No responses are heard. This was my out, but my body was telling me not to leave, even though my mind was screaming to run. Instead of knocking again, I turn the knob and almost wish it wasn’t unlocked, but it was.

There he is on the other side, scribbling at his desk. His back is facing me and I watch the muscles in them move with vigor. I haven’t seen him work this hard since he convinced me to teach him how to make a creme brulée and accidentally made scrambled eggs with the yolks.

I shut the door behind me and hope it catches his attention, but it doesn’t. I gulp, realizing how very real this situation is and I almost want to throw up knowing I have to speak.

“Hyuck.”

I hear him inhale and he spins quickly out of his chair to look at me. Different to how it felt seeing him in the kitchen earlier today, his face is softer, accepting my presence. My heart floats in my chest, wondering why I was so nervous to see him when just the sight of him oozes comfort. He looks at me like he’s feeling the same way. I see the longing in his eyes and the way they warm, I close my own to stop myself from giving in too much.

“Princess.”

His voice is fragile and his choice of words makes me shut my eyes harder, scared that I’d lose all my resilience and run straight into his arms. He doesn’t correct himself this time, and he says it again with more confidence.

I finally peel them open and force myself to act cold. Just an hour ago I was finishing his wedding cake; this fire has to be extinguished.

“Princess Soohae will make a great queen.” I move to set the pastry basket down on a table near me.

“It’s not what you think. I was going to-“ He turns around in a frenzy and grabs the paper he was just writing on. The Prince takes a step closer and it takes all my strength to recoil. It takes all of me not to be swayed by the obvious hurt on his face. This will be good for us, I have to remind myself.

My hand is up, drawing the line. “You don’t have to explain. It’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitantly puts his arm down, eyebrow twitched in confusion. The paper is still in his hands.

“I got you a gift,” I partly smile. “A wedding gift and I guess, also… a goodbye gift.” With that statement, I break away from his stare, fixating on a corner in his grand room. 

I hear paper wrinkling. “A goodbye gift?” His voice gets lower and it causes me to wince. It feels like all the tension in the room gathered in the small vacancy in my chest and the overwhelming pressure makes my eyes sting. I can already feel the tears build up as I play with the hem of my shirt. 

“Mhm,” I painfully affirm. “The wedding cake. It’s both my gift and my goodbye. I thought you requested it when I first got the royal letter,” I laugh at the situation, trying to stop myself from letting him see me cry.

“Turns out it wasn’t you, but regardless. You’re getting married and I can’t be here anymore. So I left it in the kitchen. Obviously, it’s not a goodbye-goodbye, since I’ll still be living here in the city, but… No. Yeah, it’s a goodbye,” I nod to myself, trying to unravel the knot in my throat. “I guess you took my advice, huh? Congratulations, your highness.”

The silence from him is thick and it leaves a sour feeling in my stomach. It calls me to look up at him, and his eyes are icy cold. The sweet honey brown is as dark as coal.

“This is your response?” His words are robotic, I can feel the venom on his tongue as it pricks at my heart.

“S-sorry?” I tilt my head, not understanding him. It felt terrifying to make him repeat himself in the state he’s in.

“I told you I loved you. I’m assuming this is your response.” My eyes flicker to the paper in his fist, no longer readable. Neither is his face as he gives me the blankest look. It makes me want to cry more knowing this is how I will remember our last moments.

This time, I do take a step towards him but he’s shaking his head aggressively, lower back pressed against the edge of his desk. Now I know how he felt.

“If you want to hear me say ‘I love you’, you know I can’t do that.” Just having those three words leave my lips causes a tear to roll down my cheek. 

“Because I’m the Prince?” This time, his expression changes to match mine. I can feel the frustration and pain radiating off of him, and all I want to do is to tell him what he needs to hear. But I just nod, forcing a distance.

“So it always mattered. What if… what if it was 7-year-old Donghyuck asking his princess? What would you have said? You didn’t know who I was back then. I was just… just Donghyuck.” He sighs, his body is limp as he settles onto his desk. I notice his frail build, worried that he’s been eating less.

I smile, fondly remembering the ignorant bliss from 15 years ago. But then I’m forced to remember our situation now, our ugly situation where our hearts are demanded to stay silent. 

“I would’ve told him I loved him too.”

And with that, all strength is gone as I sob into my palm. I’m trying to force the wails in, but my body is shaking. My legs feel weak and he’s over here and his arms are wrapped tightly around me in a second. I can feel his heart beating against my arm trapped between our bodies and his breath shakily blowing on the top of my head. One hand is holding me tight and the other is brushing through my hair as he shushes me. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” He repeats. A part of me thinks this is to calm himself down too. 

I know I’m right when I slowly pull myself back and see the red in his eyes and on the tip of his nose. My hand flinches as I’m about to caress his cheek. His breath is steadier as it now fans across my face and his eyes are lidded like they’ve finally got some rest. My hesitation vanishes as I let myself cup his face, trace the constellation painted on his cheek, and feel the sweetness of his lips on mine. The warm sensation that envelops my body makes me gasp and Donghyuck tightens his embrace on me, refusing to let go. He tasted better than every sweet treat I’ve had combined. He was intoxicating and my whole body buzzed like a sugar rush. 

I close my eyes tighter, savoring the feeling of his lips, wanting to remember every trace — letting myself be selfish this last time. He’s sugary, cozy, and soothing like the afternoon sun on my back. His mouth moves with such ease against mine and it feels like I’ve been kissing him my whole life. The feeling of his tongue gently nudging my bottom lip jolts me back to reality and I push away, seized by the cold air of his big room again. 

I bring my hands to my face, hoping to cool down the flush. The Prince is breathing as heavily and in sync with me, and all I can hear is our matching breaths and the ringing in my ears. I have to end it here. 

“Um. Congratulations on your wedding,” I say in one breath. I don’t dare look at him as I quickly bow, scrambling to his door. 

“Princess! Wait,” He grabs my wrist, almost too tight. “I can’t go through with this. Please, I-I only want to marry you.”

“Your highness…”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. Say my name, please. Call me Hyuck. Call me Donghyuck. Anything but that. Just don’t-“ His teeth are chattering and he blinks away the tears. “Don’t leave me again.”

Without a second thought, I’m shaking my head ‘no.’ Even with tears blurring my vision, I can see the hurt on his face and I feel a part of my heart rot. It pains me just as much to reject him, but the Queen’s words swirl around in my head, unrelentless. I’m forced to leave him and my heart here and I want to scream, but I can’t. He notices that. It reminds him of himself.

Letting the finality of my decision settle in, he lets go of me, taking in a shaky breath. This was our end.

I restrain myself from taking any steps towards him as I reach for the door behind me. The wooden panel swings open, gliding past my extended fingers as I’m met with the face of the Queen.

That same hand shoots up to touch my lips, remembering what just happened in here and I bow till my hair grazes the tiled floors. 

“Your Majesty,” I squeak. She looks at me with a million emotions and plants her glare at the Prince. Like pieces of a puzzle coming together, her face twists into anger, dissecting the situation. I take this as my cue to leave but the Queen shuts the door behind the both of us. I don’t hear the Prince make any moves to save me.

“What were you doing in there?” She angrily whispers between clenched teeth. Not sure what comes over me, but the fear I felt before is gone. Instead, I’m left feeling numb.

“Don’t worry. I was just saying goodbye.” I swallow, bracing myself for her reprimands. 

A beat passes, before she speaks, this time in a normal tone. “Are you done?” 

I nod, “Yes, and I’d like to be excused from attending the wedding to serve the cake.” The Queen’s eyebrows quirk up, shocked that I’ve made a request. I look her straight in the eyes so she knows I mean it.

“I can’t… I can’t be there for that. I believe I’ve done all the preparation I can and I am not needed to actually attend.” My confidence waivers, and I draw my attention back to the ground.

“Fair enough. You don’t have to attend. I’ll tell the other bakers to serve it.” I take my chance to meet her eyes again and I can almost see concern on her face. I shake my head of that ridiculous thought, and offer her my best smile.

“Thank you, your majesty.” I bow before dragging my feet off the palace grounds. Hoping to never set foot in here ever again.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bells. I plan to remove all bells from my bakery. The royal wedding bells have been ringing all morning and I don’t need any more reminders moving forward. 

I spent the whole night crying after leaving the palace and then my anxiety kicked in, trying to get me to map out my life without him. Naturally, I planned to pour myself into work and here I am, out of bed, manning the shop by myself on his wedding day. I may have cried into a batch of dough in the morning, but baby steps are important. This is only day one anyways.

I realized I made a mistake leaving the house when I overheard everyone in town talk about the wedding of the century. I even let my employees off for the day, mainly to have my space to wallow alone. Practically everyone was outside the palace gates, waiting to get a glimpse of the couple. The streets were currently empty and I wonder if I should just close up shop. 

Right when I was about to count up the cash and close out the register, the bell on the door jingles. I’m halfway into the one dollar bills when I roll my eyes at the sound, pressing my lips together to stop a groan. I make a mental note to remove the bell before I leave.

I look up to check on the customer and I see a man with, of course, brown hair surveying the bread on the back wall. All I can see is the back of his head as he peruses. I scoff to myself at the instant fluttering of my chest at yet another brunette customer. Is no one blond anymore? Are gingers that rare for me to never encounter one in my bakery?

I finish counting the ones and I move onto the fives when I realize he’s still standing in the same spot. I’m organizing the bills in my hands as I examine him. Normal guy. Black hoodie. Jeans. 

Maybe he’s just really indecisive. I can see him tapping his foot from the counter. I decide to offer help after I finish counting the five dollar bills.

With the last dollar to count, I place it in the tray and slowly walk over to the man. As I get closer, my stranger danger instincts kick in and I suddenly regret my decision. His foot is still shaking and from this close, I can see him fidgeting with his sleeves in front of him. I grab a pair of tongs from the closest case and approach him.

“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you find something?” I have the tongs gripped with both hands, discreetly but ready to swing. 

I see his body tense and my breath hitches, thinking I’m really going to have to hit this man with my makeshift weapon.

He turns around painstakingly slow and I raise the tongs instinctively to block my face, before letting out a squeal.

But then I see his face. And different bells go off.

“Oh my god. Hyuck?”

The bags under his eyes are prominent and I finally notice the way his hair has been pulled in different directions. His lips are dry as he cracks a sheepish smile. He’s rubbing the back of his neck and notices the kitchen utensil in my hands.

“Were you gonna hit me?!” His mouth is open in surprise and he’s taking the tongs from my hands. I let him and put my hands up in defense.

“You were standing there for so long, all fidgety! I’m alone in here, what was I supposed to think?” I fight back, taking the tongs back and clutching it close to my chest.

He lets out a long sigh, seemingly frustrated with himself as he runs his hands through his hair. I hate that I find it attractive.

“Wait.” He looks up at me through his lashes, swallowing. “What are you doing here?” I ask. He blinks, knowing that question was coming. 

I expected to feel sick awaiting his answer, but instead my heart is racing, anticipating his next words. I almost feel that false hope I felt a week ago, and I try hard to deny it. But the way he’s looking at me leaves me with no doubts. 

I’m about to push him out the door when he digs a hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. The wrinkled piece of paper from yesterday. He plays with it in his hands as he thinks about his next move.

“I was drafting a request to get the law changed.”

His words peak my interest. I set the tongs down and let him continue. Wrapping my arms around my waist for security, I’m fearful of what he has to say next.

“I’ve actually been working on it for the past two months.” He flattens the paper out in his hands. “You caught me finishing the final draft yesterday. I didn’t expect it to take up until my wedding day…” He laughs, unhumored by the situation. 

He hands it to me. “This is an old copy now, but it’s actually already being reviewed by the King. Right now. Being who I am, I fled just in case.” 

He looks at me anxiously as I read the top of the page, the words in bold:

Formal Petition to Repeal the Royal Marriage Ordinance 

Written By Prince Lee Donghyuck

My eyes don’t believe what’s written, like the royal letter I received not too long ago, requesting I bake the royal wedding cake. The same royal stamp and all rests in the top left corner. 

This time, I can read the words clearly. They settle into my chest, leaving me with such a funny feeling. I read the text and I can tell it’s written by him. I imagine him staying up every night after we meet in the kitchen, working by himself on this proposal. All of his hard work for the past couple months was printed on this very paper. All this work… for us. 

I feel my cheeks wet from pure joy and I cover the smile straining my mouth. A rush unfurls through my body like sweet, sweet sugar and I look up to share it with him. 

“Donghyuck… You-?”

“Marry me.” 

He gets down on one knee, holding my free hand. He’s rubbing that one spot on my ring finger and it feels unreal. The gleam in his eyes reminds me of the toasty fires in the oven, the glistening mangos on his favorite tart. His smile matches mine, nervous just slightly, and I want to paint this memory in my brain forever. The love and desperation in his eyes are begging me to think of him. Think of us. Every fear that had been eating away at me the past month was overcome by his pleas. This paper and his actions are proof that we can happen.

He continues, 

“Princess, please marry me. I’ve only wanted to marry you almost my entire life. I know that sounds crazy, but how can I doubt my obvious soulmate? You always come back to me, but I still don’t want another reason for you to have to leave. So please, trust me and trust us. Forget everything and everyone else and say you’ll marry me. If this petition doesn’t pass, I’ll continue to fight. Just…

Say you’ll be my princess forever.”

I tug his hand softly to get him to stand up. He obliges and I free my hands to hold his face. He finally breathes and closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. I can feel him relax and his hands rest on my hips, drawn like a magnet. My mind is bouncing back and forth trying to contain the frenzy in my heart and the steady warmth of my core. I tap his eyelid lightly with my thumb and ask him to look at me. He opens them slowly, fear still trickling in his irises. I smile at him.

“My Prince,” His breath hitches. “I love you too.”

Donghyuck wastes no time tucking his head into my neck and lifting me against his body. He spins me around between the cases of bread and I giggle, feeling his heart beat erratically against mine. He softly lets my feet touch the ground and we’re looking at each other again, tears adding sparkles to his eyes. I wipe them away instantly.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers, but it feels like he said it with his whole being.

“Always.” I say with just as much commitment.

We’re cherishing the moment together, laughing at how happy we get to be, when the wedding bells go off once more. I look at him with confusion and he shrugs, just as lost.

“I can’t believe my wedding cake is going to waste,” I pout, remembering all my hardwork. And he squeezes my hip at my choice to be silly, snickering.

“I can’t believe you went with a lemon cake. Do you even know me?” He teases, pretending to be hurt. I gasp, slapping his chest.

“I’ll make sure to go with the mango tarts for ours.” I press a soft kiss on his lips and he smiles with me, pulling me unbelievably closer. 

“I like the sound of that,” Donghyuck hums.

“I’m sure you do.” I laugh.

Donghyuck and I stand there in each other’s arms for as long as our legs allow. We talk about the past, how it felt to leave each other. We talk about the garden and I admit to catching him talk to his mom, which explains everything he needs to know. Even as I’m profusely apologizing, he’s doing the same, saying sorry for putting me in such a situation. I choose to ask about Princess Soohae and he bites his lip nervously, telling me he hasn’t handled that predicament yet. I almost drag him out of the bakery at the sound of that. We even go over his repeal proposal and I call him out for some typos.

Eventually we move to the kitchen, doing what we do best, and what we’ve done for years, waiting for someone to find him. The Prince and his Princess.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: i hope you enjoyed!! pls like, reblog, reply, whatever!! if u want hehe

[just-jordie-things]

shades of cool - zen'in naoya

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 16.5k warnings: swearing. a semi-soft naoya fic bcuz i'm a f r e a k. summary: naoya doesn't need to love you when the fate of your arranged marriage had been written when you were only kids. and of course, he'd never actually fall for you. more info: arranged marriage!au enemies (sorta) to friends (sorta) to lovers, obviously he's out of character a/n: i am so sick in the head for writing this. adding him to this even was such a... choice. don't request stuff for him i will delete the ask in shame <3 ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ but i can’t fix him, can’t make him better.  and i can’t do nothing about his strange weather.  cause you are unfixable.  i can’t break through your world.  cause you live in shades of cool.  your heart is unbreakable ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SUMMER, 1995

He’s six years old when Naoya first meets (y/l/n) (y/n).  She’s freshly six and she looks it, too.  Chubby cheeks colored pink from her obvious shyness.  She’s standing behind her father’s legs, reaching for his hand even though he’s repeatedly dodged her hold or swatted her hand away.  

Naoya’s spying on the scene in the entryway of the Zen’in estate, peeking through the second floor railing with a curious sort of glare on his face.  He’d heard whispers among the staff of a visitor from one of the more powerful clans, and while normally Naoya couldn’t care less about the many people coming in and out of the compound, when he’d heard his own name mentioned one too many times in correlation with this visitor, intrigue got the best of him.

And surely she was the reason why.  She was no older than him, dressed in a silk kimono that had to have been tailored just for her, and her hair swept back into a jeweled butterfly clip that sat at the back of her head.  Although half of her hair was falling out of it, seeing as the hand that wasn’t desperately reaching for her father’s was tugging at the uncomfortable claw secured against her scalp, trying to relieve the tension of her hair being pulled so tightly.  Naoya could almost scoff at how childish she looked.

He’s only been spying for a few minutes before his father is turning around and staring straight at him, the marble railings doing nothing to hide his crouching stature.  His stomach drops with fear, expecting to be scolded and punished for eavesdropping, even though he hadn’t heard a thing the adults were saying.  Instead, the head of the Zen’in clan beckons his son to descend the stairs and meet their visitor.

And although he wants to, he doesn’t hesitate.  He’s upright and quickly making his way down to courteously introduce himself to their guests.

“Naoya, this is the head of the (y/l/n) Clan, you remember him, yes?” Naobito gestured to the man still swatting away at his daughter’s hand, prompting Naoya to tilt forward in a respectful bow.

“Yes, sir” 

“It just so happens his daughter is your age,” Naobito continues, directing his gaze to where she stood.  

She was just a small thing, so tiny Naoya could hardly believe she was even six years old.  She was merely a pipsqueak, and her demeanor seemed so, too.  Her eyes could barely meet his, opting instead to stare at his shoes.  If his father weren’t standing there, he would’ve scoffed and walked away without so much as a second glance.

“It would be nice if you two could… get along,” Even Naobito seemed uncertain of this union.  His son’s apprehension was clear in his rigid stance and bored expression, and the young (y/l/n) didn’t seem like she could hold her own.  If that were the case, she didn’t stand a chance with his ruthless son.  “Why don’t you show her around the compound while the adults chat, hm? Be a proper host” 

Naoya looks up at his father, silently asking if this was the best use of his time.  Naobito’s expression was unmoving, and unforgiving.  There was no getting out of this, then.

“Fine” Naoya huffs, and he regrets the attitude when his father’s hand smacks up the back of his head.  He doesn’t say anything else as he nods for the girl to follow him.

Once more she reaches for her father, only to be gently pushed towards Naoya, and against her will, she follows behind him.

She’s silent as he boredly walks her through each room, pointing here and there at cursed tools he wanted to show off, or expensive art he couldn’t care less about.  A few times, Naoya even had to check over his shoulder that she was even still with him.  She was like a mouse.  If it weren’t for her buzzing cursed energy, he could forget she was there at all.

Every time he checks on her and her eyes meet his, his brows furrow.  He couldn’t explain it, since she hadn’t actually said a word to him yet, but something about her irked him.  He was certain there wasn’t a chance in hell they were going to be friends.

“What’s your deal anyways?” 

His question is abrupt, and full of cruelty.  He halts suddenly right before he’s about to show her the lame gardens that the staff tends to.  The girl merely blinks, seemingly unphased by his blatant rudeness.  At this point, he’s wondering if she’s a mute, or maybe just too stupid to—

“My deal?” She repeats, speaking for the first time.  

Her voice isn’t as timid as he would have expected.  It’s soft, but there’s an underlying boldness there, as though she were just waiting for her chance to tear into him.  It flips a switch in him to put his guard up, the prickle on his skin reminding him of his older brothers’ torment.  Perhaps she was just like them, playing the long game, stringing him along into thinking she was just another pipsqueak, when in reality she was about to pin him down and tie him up like a hog.  Or at least, that’s what his brothers would have done.

“I dunno,” She hums, shrugging her shoulders with her lame answer.  Naoya’s lip curls into an irritated snarl.  He certainly wasn’t expecting that.  “My dad said I had to come” 

That’s all the more she tells him, and young Naoya scoffs.  He’d only been around her for all of ten minutes and he was already over it.

“Whatever,” He mutters, pushing through the doors and not bothering to hold it open for her as she continues to follow him outdoors.  “Just try to keep up, pipsqueak.  Let’s get this over with” 

And that’s exactly how he feels the next few times her father brings her along on his visits to the compound.  Impatient, hurried, and most of all, irritated.  Whatever the point was for having her here was lost on Naoya.  She didn’t appear all that interested either, so why torture the both of them? 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SPRING, 1997

They’re eight when Naoya finally comes to realize why the Zen’in and (y/l/n) Clans insist on the two of them spending so much time together.  The idea makes his stomach churn and his throat fill with bile.

“You know this is all just an act, right?” 

His words are sharp, as they always are, while (y/n’s) busy picking the weeds out of the grass around them.  She insisted on gathering all the dandelions, no matter how much he criticized her for fawning over the dumb weed.  After a few years of regular drop offs, where her father would smoke cigars with Zen’in Naobito and have adult conversation, she was stuck entertaining the young Zen’in.

Naoya wasn’t the most pleasant of company, when he did speak he never had anything nice to say, and when he wasn’t talking, he had a resting scowl on his face.  Lucky for her, her patience seemed to know no bounds.  Or perhaps she’d just gotten used to his shitty attitude.

(y/n) had grown up mastering the craft of being patient.  Of smothering emotion from her face, especially ones such as disgust, or fear.  Coming from a long line of sorcerers who had mastered the Reversed Cursed Technique, she was in line to be yet another higher grade sorcerer with the (y/l/n) name.  Unfortunately, it had meant her training began young, and it was a gruesome lesson plan.  She met many sorcerers who came to her estate after unruly battles and exorcisms, covered in laceration wounds or missing appendages.  Any sign of weakness or apprehension had been taught out of her years before now.  If she was too afraid to go near an injured sorcerer, there wasn’t a chance of her learning how to heal them.  So it didn’t matter if it was a stranger or her own family crying out in agony as they tried to stop the heavy bleeding from a nasty injury, her first lesson was learning to keep a neutral face in the presence of gore.

This lesson came in handy during her visits with Naoya, as well.

“If you’re acting, you’re not all that good at it,” She replies.  Her own choice of words are witty for an eight year old, snarky, even.  But her voice is as soft as ever.  “Or, are you trying to look like an ass all the time?” 

When she looks up at him, her gap toothed smile is so large it takes up most of her face.  She knows she’d gotten him good when he’s scowling and letting out an annoyed sound from the back of his throat.  Truth be told, she didn’t have a clue as to what he was referring to, but the only way to keep herself amused during these little forced sessions was by picking dandelions and dishing his attitude back at him.

“You’ll never get a husband with that mouth,” Naoya bites back.  “No self respecting man would ever want the hand of a girl that talks back” 

She raises a brow at him, although her eyes are focused on the stems of a few yellow weeds in her hands as she diligently loops and knots them together.  Her interest is far more captivated by the dying weed than the obnoxious brat keeping her company.  Still, she pays him some attention, just for times’ sake.

“I don’t think I have to worry much about that,” She says with a small giggle, still knotting her pile of dandelions together.  Naoya’s disinterested stare is focused on her handiwork as she calmly responds.  He realizes distantly that she’s making a crown out of the damn things.  He looks away then, thinking he was far too focused on her waste of time than he should be.  “Don’t you think we’re a little young to have to think about marriage?” She asks.

Naoya sneers, his know-it-all attitude rearing it’s head as soon as it gets the chance.

“You don’t pay attention to anything, do you, pipsqueak?” He scoffs.  (y/n) fights the urge to roll her eyes as she continues on with her crown.  “You’re going to marry me” 

Naoya’s filled with a sick sense of pride for an eight year old, revealing the big secret that their father’s had yet to share.  He thinks he’s got her speechless now, and surely she’ll be shocked, maybe even cry.  Naoya thinks he’d like to see her sniffle and whine over this news.

He’d certainly gagged when he’d heard the whispered rumors among the staff for the last few days.  Anytime he’d heard their names brought up his nose would wrinkle, and he’d ball his hands into fists as he marched away from the ridiculous gossip.

But it’s silent for a few beats, and she appears as though she hasn’t even heard his announcement.  His heartless grin begins to falter as he watches her admire her little ring of dandelions, lifting it to get a good look at it in the sun.  A small smile stretches across her lips as she deems it finished, before setting it on her head.

“Were you listening?” His grin falls to a deep frown rather quickly.  

(y/n) doesn’t let even a flicker of emotion cross her face as she finally turns to look at him.  His dark eyes are wide with anticipation, and she knows he’s waiting for a dramatic reaction out of her.  She’s not sure why, she’s never really been one for the theatrics, that was always him.  Naoya was the one that wanted to march around, show off, and be relentlessly and pointlessly cruel.  She was the one who sat and bore it without a word or any reaction at all, really.  In the handful of times she’s been around him now, she had yet to understand his obnoxious personality.

“Yeah” She answers, simply, and without the notion of having anything more to say.  

Naoya’s brows furrow harshly as he glares at her.  He thinks he’ll never be able to understand this girl, much less get along with her.  If she really was set to be his wife, he’d have to find every way he could to wiggle out of it.

“It’s an arranged marriage,” He spits out matter-of-factly.  “Don’t you understand what that means?” 

(y/n) nods her head, the loose crown of dandelions slipping around her ears.

“When we’re older, we’ll get married,” She replies.  “It’s not that hard to figure out” 

“You knew?” Naoya scoffs.

This time, she shakes her head.

“No, I didn’t,” She tells him, calm as ever.  “But does it matter?

He blinks, his eyes wide and full of their usual nasty emotion, mixed with something else she’s never seen on him before.  He almost looks lost.

“Don’t tell me you actually want that?” He asks, his voice lowering to a near whisper.  

They were the only people in the gardens, always left alone to play and get to know each other, and they always sat there in mostly silence until it was time for her to go.  Still, Naoya couldn’t bring himself to speak at a volume any higher than that.  He couldn’t risk anyone possibly hearing his accusation.

To his displeasure, (y/n) shrugs.  Shrugs.  As if being arranged to marry him made no difference to her.  As if she barely had any opinion of it at all.  Sure, she might not have had a say, but she could think for herself, couldn’t she? 

“I don’t really know anyone else,” She tells him, lifting the flower crown off her head to adjust some of the loose stems.  “My parents insist on homeschooling me, so I don’t have friends.  I’d rather marry someone I know than a stranger” 

For the briefest of seconds, Naoya almost softens.  He almost feels pity for her.  He almost wishes things were different so neither one of them had to be in this position.  But just as quickly as the thought crosses his mind, he’s bristling and snarling again.

“You can barely even manifest your cursed technique,” He scoffs.  “You know that makes you weak, right?” His words are harsh, but judging from the lack of response from (y/n), he could almost believe she tuned him out completely.  “What makes you think I would want a weak pipsqueak like you as my wife?” 

Finally, she cracks, but not in the way he was hoping.  Her eyes don’t water, she doesn’t sniffle, or even frown.  She simply places the dandelion loop back on her head, and gives him a tiny, yet victorious smile.

“What makes you think you’ll have any choice in the matter?” 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That question sat with Naoya for longer than he would’ve liked.  Months pass, and each time he’s forced to see her again, his stomach is filled with the unfamiliar sensation of anxiety.  He hates it.  Hates the chill that crawls up his spine every time he has to greet her at the door and they have to go sit in the garden for hours on end.

He doesn’t enjoy talking to her, in fact, he despises it.  He hates the way every time she speaks her voice is soft, and full of whimsy.  Even as she tells him she still hasn’t mastered her Reversed Curse Technique, she sounds hopeful.  Too hopeful.  By the time they’re ten years old, she’s still struggling to get the hang of it.  

Naoya spends most of his time ignoring her, or reminding her of her weakness.  (y/n) spends most of her time picking the dandelions as she wanders the gardens, and not ignoring him nearly as much as she should.

She simply couldn’t help it.  She’d meant it when she’d told him he was the closest thing to a friend she’d had, after all.  The exception being her tutors and a few cousins that would entertain her when they visited.  But they had an obligation to be kind to her, the only daughter of the head of the (y/l/n) Clan.  Naoya, despite being her betrothed, held no obligation to her at all, and he certainly acted like it.

She had yet to figure him out, but as months turned into years, she was slowly getting a grasp on it.  He was more deeply insecure than he would ever admit, and as soon as someone stumbled upon those insecurities, they were scrutinized, blown to bits by his harsh words.

Naoya wasn’t one to give any piece of himself to anyone.  No matter how often she’d try to know him better, in order to care for him better, (y/n) made little to no progress.  She was lucky if he spent the day with his mouth shut.  She’s not sure he’s ever said a kind thing in his life, and after a few years, she’d given up completely on hoping he’d try.

Still, she didn’t put up a fight when she was brought to the Zen’in compound.  She smiled and bowed and followed the dark haired boy out to the garden where he’d sit and yank up the grass while she searched for dandelions, or maybe a ladybug.  If she were to be his wife, there would be plenty of time to get to know him later.  Maybe as he grew older he’d soften around the edges, and he’d be easier to be around.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SUMMER, 2000

When they’re eleven, (y/n) announces that she’d been accepted into a private school.

She’s grinning from ear to ear, practically glowing with excitement as she goes on to tell Naoya all about the new classes she’ll get to take, but most of all, all the friends she’d get to meet.  She talks to him more that day than she’d ever had before.

He sits in annoyance as he’s stuck listening to her talk about her uniform of all things.  But he doesn’t have it in him to tell her to shut up.  Maybe because for once, he could be deluded into thinking she’s enjoying her time with him today.  Even though naturally, she’s only in a good mood because of the coming school year.

“Kind of dumb to go to a school with non-sorcerers, isn’t it?” Is all he has to say when she’s finally finished rambling about all the great things about her new school.

“You think?” She muses, intrigued by his opinion for reasons that were beyond him.

“It is if you spend all your time gossiping and learning stupid non-sorcerer things,” Naoya says decidedly.  “You should be focused on your technique, pipsqueak.  Not friends” 

(y/n) hums thoughtfully in response.  She knows he’s only jealous, seeing as he didn’t have any friends.  Of course she couldn’t say anything of the sorts to him, he’d probably beat her up for it.  Instead, she gifts him with her patience.

“I think I can have friends and still work on my technique” She says decidedly.

Naoya scowls, as she predicted, but she doesn’t react to it, simply goes back to threading today’s dandelion crown together.  He doesn’t have anything else to say, even with plenty of bitter thoughts forming in his mind.  He keeps his mouth shut and counts down the minutes until her father collects her and takes her home.

Today when she leaves, she drops the dandelion crown in his hands with a smile as she says goodbye.  Naoya grimaces at the ugly clump of dying weeds, and once she’s gone, drops it into the trash before going on with his day, not giving it a second thought.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

WINTER, 2003

The first time she gets a grasp on her Reversed Cursed Technique, they’re fourteen.

And despite the unforgiving coldness of the February afternoon, (y/n) insists that they still sit in the garden for the duration of her visit.  Naoya tries to tell her that she’s stupid for wanting to spend their time out there where she was going to catch a cold, but when she doesn’t budge, he decides to let her suffer the consequences.

She was a quiet little pipsqueak, but she was stubborn as hell, and for some reason that afternoon, Naoya hadn’t been in the mood to bicker.  It probably had something to do with his brothers taunting him all throughout breakfast.  They’d learned that messing with him about his little girlfriend as they called her was the quickest way to get his temper to snap, much to their delight.  It only meant that by the time she’d arrived, he’d already been broken down and was too mentally drained to put up a fight over something as silly as the cold.

“I’ve learned how to apply my Reversed Cursed Technique on myself” Is the first thing she tells him once they’re alone, sitting in a patch of dry, dead grass surrounded by banks of snow.  

“About time” Naoya replies gruffly.  She’s not surprised that he has nothing nice to say, she hadn’t expected anything different.

So instead she rolls up her sleeve, tucking it at her shoulder to reveal her entire bare arm.  The little hairs stick up and her skin prickles with goosebumps in the frigid air, but she gives no other indication of being bothered by the cold.

When she displays the long, bumpy scar that extends from the dip in her shoulder, down her bicep, nearly all the way through her palm, Naoya can’t help but widen his eyes at the nasty scar.  It’s puffy and pink, clearly still healing.  He’s silent as he follows the raised skin from start to finish, before turning to look at her, trying to gauge what she was thinking based on the mostly neutral expression she wore.

She was an impossible person to read, it was one of her most annoying qualities.  Naoya always believed himself to be gifted in reading others’ thoughts just by looking at their body language.  Never once had he been able to penetrate (y/n’s) thoughts.  Every time she spoke she found some way to catch him off guard.  Even after these last few years, it would still induce a chill of anxiety to shiver down his spine.

“Learned one way or another,” She chuckles, before pulling her sleeve back down.  “The scar should fade soon.  I got to it a bit late” She explains.

Naoya’s brows fall into a furrow and his lips curl into a puzzled frown.

“You did that to yourself?” He asks, disgust laced in his tone at the cruel attempt at training.  Sure, his clan would likely applaud her for it, but the ends didn’t exactly justify the means to him.

“No,” (y/n) scoffs quietly.  “Slipped up during training and had a nasty scratch.  Had I not moved when I did, I might’ve lost the whole arm” 

His mouth opens, but no words come out.  He doesn’t know what to say, his brain is running haywire with the possibilities.  He wants to call her foolish for acquiring such a scar just from training.  He wants to drag her by her clean arm to where her father is mindlessly chatting away with his and demand he use his own Reversed Cursed technique to fix it.  She was his only daughter, wasn’t she? Couldn’t he have healed her up just fine? 

He doesn’t fully believe her story, not with the way she’s talking about her training thus far, but he doesn’t call her out on it, either.

When he snaps his mouth shut again his jaw clenches, and his teeth grind together as he squashes every thought that crosses his mind.

“Well, it’s nasty,” He mutters, sounding uncharacteristically helpless.  “But at least you can use your technique now” 

(y/n) beams.  That was as close to a compliment as she’s ever received from him.

“Hurt like hell, but worth it!” She declares, and the pride in her voice makes him sick.  “I can’t wait to show the kids at school.  They’ll think it’s cool.  They’ve probably never seen stuff like this” 

He gives a small nod in response.  He couldn’t exactly argue with that.  Non-sorcerers were bound to think of her as some sort of badass over such a scar.  It would probably boost her popularity among the insects of her school.  Naoya frowns to himself.

“You shouldn’t show people that,” He tells her, without much of a reason in his mind.  She looks at him curiously, wrapping her arms around herself while still refusing to claim she was cold.  There’s not an ounce of truth in his words as he talks out of his ass.  “They’ll probably just pity you.  They’ll probably think you did it for attention”

She hums, nodding back at him in understanding.

“You’re right,” She tells him, much to his surprise.  “I wouldn’t want that” 

When she leaves that day, he wonders if she actually took his advice.  He wonders if the scar will be gone the next time he sees her.

It’s the first time he’s ever thought about her next visit.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SPRING 2005

When they’re sixteen, Naoya notices a change in her.

Not just a physical one brought on by puberty and elegant growth into young adulthood.  It wasn’t just her sharper jaw and thicker lashes, or the way her eyes had a way of piercing through his in an unsettling way.  It wasn’t just her longer legs or the strength carried in her abdomen and arms.  It was a mindset change, he was sure of it.

She was more confident in the way she carried herself.  No longer did she try to reach for her father’s hand, barely casting him a second glance as they parted ways at the Zen’in compound’s entryway.  She respectfully bowed her head, but that was it.  She didn’t mess with the clip in her hair anymore, or avoid eye contact by staring at the ground.  She was a little more poised, and a little more sure of herself.

And now when she was with Naoya, he could practically feel the change in her just from the way she looked at him.  Inquisitive, with a small smirk on her face like she knew something he didn’t, and despite his better judgment, he was just dying to know what it was.

He had yet to decide if this change was a good one or not.  She was more vocal than usual, witty in their bickering as she yet again forced him to spend their time in the garden.  Her voice was still soft but her words were sharper than usual, more decisive.  He thinks that having a wife so mouthy and bossy would be an inconvenience to him and his clan, but he’s not sure if voicing that now would be of service to him.  He couldn’t go offending her father, not yet anyways, so he keeps his mouth shut and takes her out to her precious garden.

“I have some exciting news to tell you,” She says as soon as they’re alone outside.  

Her gaze is fixed on a clump of hyacinths, which irks Naoya.  No one else dared speak to him without looking at him, it was a respect thing.  The staff, even his younger cousins and some older ones, they all held eye contact when speaking to him.  She makes no effort to show him respect, but her manner isn’t intended to be cruel.  This was the playful side of her personality that he was starting to despise.  He grinds his teeth.

“I’ve been asked to the spring formal at my school” 

She sounds delighted, and it’s clear in the way her eyes light up and her smile curls just right to show off pearly white teeth.  She tells him this news like he’d been dying to know, like he’d cared at all.  He scoffs, rolls his eyes as he leans back in the grass on his hands, careful not to catch his sleeves on the dirty ground.

“I’ve never heard of something more stupid” 

“It’s a big deal,” (y/n) turns to him, her hands moving as she explains the details of the dance, how important a pretty dress is, how the most popular couple attending would be crowned spring prince and princess, all of which fell on disinterested ears as Naoya frowned and fought the urge to roll his eyes at everything she told him.  “It’s sort of silly, but it’s not stupid,” She tells him with certainty.  “Especially not since the most popular guy in my grade asked me,” She adds with a grin, leaning forward a bit to catch his attention.  Surely he’d care about that little piece of information.

Naoya rolls his head against his shoulder as he gives her a bored stare.  She’s still beaming, bright eyes flickering between his golden brown ones that fought so hard to keep their dull glare.

“Of course, he doesn’t know I’m technically betrothed” She adds, the word slipping off her tongue with syrupy, sticky sweetness.  That had a reaction flashing across his face, miniscule changes in his twitching brow and narrowing eyes.

They never really talked about their arrangement.  Not since bickering about it as kids, anyways.  Naoya always assumed it was because neither one of them were all that fond of the idea of an arranged marriage, especially to one another, seeing as they got along about as well as oil and water.  But here she was, bringing it up like it was nothing, like it carried no real weight.  And she was teasing him about it.

It made something in his chest snap.  Something sharp, something that had never been touched before.

“What, you’re asking for permission to go on a lame date to a lame school dance, with a lame non-sorcerer?” He scoffs at her, but his cruel words do nothing to hinder the excitement in her face.

“Permission? Of course not,” She shakes her head.  Her eyes land on a stray dandelion not far from her reach, and she leans over to pluck it from the grass without hesitation.  Old habits die hard.  “You’re not my husband, I don’t recall signing any papers” 

He scoffs again, his lips curling into a sarcastic grin.  She knows he’s going to spit out some vile nonsense, but she can’t help but brighten further upon seeing his smile.  It was a rare sight, after all.

“Not yet,” He corrects her.  “But I’m sure if I were to tell my father about how unfaithful you’ve been acting, you’d be pulled out of that non-sorcerer school by the end of the day.  And what then, pipsqueak?” He challenges.

She straightens her posture as she takes his challenge and runs with it.  The old feelings of anxiety stir in his chest as she tilts her chin upwards .  It was like she knew exactly what it took to get under his skin.  When did she get so defiant? 

“Immediately running to Daddy is so outdated, don’t you think?” Her voice drops an octave, and her smirk is widening just a bit as she watches it sink into his mind.  “Besides, unfaithful feels a little strong” She adds with a short breath of a laugh.

“Not if you’re practically engaged” He snaps back quickly.

(y/n’s) the one to roll her eyes this time.  He wants to hate it, instinct clawing up his throat and wanting him to tell her just how terrible of a wife she’d really make, that obedience was the first rule in marriage.  But the words die there, swallowed down thickly and leaving his throat dry and scratchy.  An aching throat could be the only explanation as to why he wouldn’t say a thing.

“Doesn’t there have to be a ring for that?” She snorts before chuckling to herself, a sound he’s never heard from her before, and doesn’t know what to do with now.  He blinks, fire burning in his eyes the longer she puts up this stupid game.  What was her ploy, anyways? “Or, you know, a proposal?” She fires back before he could even say anything.

Naoya clicks his tongue in irritation, turning his gaze in the opposite direction so she couldn’t see the way he fought to come up with something.

“I don’t care if you go to your stupid formal with some nobody,” He tells her in a mutter, still focusing his attention elsewhere, anything to keep from looking at her just yet.  “Under the condition you’re not actually unfaithful, of course.  No point in having you as a wife, then” 

(y/n’s) eyes are fixed on him even though he won’t turn back to her.  She can just barely make out the pink tips of his ears under the mop of dark hair that covers them.  A tiny smile cracks at the corners of her lips as she hums to herself.

He turns to her then, his brows furrowed as always, his lips pressed into a thin line as always, and her small smile breaks into a wider grin.

And then, she’s laughing.  His expression changes to one of confusion as bubble after bubble of laughter escapes her.  The more she laughs, the harder it hits, until she’s nearly cackling with it.  Even if he bothered to ask her what was so funny, she surely wouldn’t have been able to give him a proper answer.  So he watches in his shocked state of confusion as she throws herself back on the grass, hands over her stomach as she laughs loudly.

“Hey!” He barks then, head whipping around to be sure no one could see this childish display.  “Are you trying to stain your kimono?” He scolds her.

For some reason, she laughs harder.  Naoya thinks he sees a tear slip down the side of her cheek as it continues with no end in sight.  The expensive white silk she wore would likely have green stains all over the back now.  Naoya winced, knowing he’d be the one to be scolded by both of their fathers for letting her so recklessly ruin the material.

Her feet are kicking against the soft grass as peels of obsessive laughter flies out of her.  It goes on so long, Naoya lets out a humorless laugh himself, just barely smiling at the whole display.

He didn’t get the joke, not in the slightest, but as she opens her eyes and wipes away her tears while she looks up at him in her giggly state, he laughs just a little more, with just the slightest hint of genuine humor.

It takes a few minutes for (y/n) to completely calm down, her chest rising and falling as she took unsteady breaths to relax.  Her eyes fall shut again as she lays in the sun and waits for her breathing to even out.  She never does tell him what had cracked her up, but he doesn’t ask.  He simply works to keep his expression neutral and uninterested while she basks in the sunny afternoon, still laying in the grass without a care in the world.  She almost looks comfortable here, like she could be happy here.

And when she leaves, she drops the singular dandelion she’d plucked into his hand.  She can tell by the look on his face that he has no intention of keeping it, and she doesn’t really care either way.  But she smiles as the tips of her fingers graze over his palm while she hums a goodbye, and just like that, her and her father leave the compound.

Naoya hesitates before tossing it into the trash bin, giving the yellow weed a once over, just to see if he could see in it what she did.  Defeated when he can’t find anything special, he tosses it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

SUMMER, 2006

Being on the cusp of eighteen, Naoya’s certain that their time before a proper wedding was waning.  Surely once they were both of age, there would be pressure from both clans for him to make his proposal, something dramatic and with as many eyes watching as possible.  The idea makes him sick to his stomach, so he’s been trying not to think about it, but again, time was running out.

Her visits are growing more infrequent.  It’s nearing the end of the month, and she’s only been around twice in that time.  He’s not sure what to make of that, undecided on if her father is proving the point that he’d need to make his move soon, or maybe…

“You seem to be thinking a lot today,” 

Her voice is soft, but it still manages to draw Naoya out of his busy head.  He turns to look at her, giving her every ounce of his attention.  There’s a small knot between her pinched brows, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen her look concerned for him before.  It makes his chest do something strange.

Is that a stutter in his heartbeat? He worries about the implication.  A stroke?

“Can’t be good for you” (y/n) finishes with a teasing little smirk on her face.

He scoffs, barely rolls his eyes, and the corner of his mouth betrays him as it tilts upward in her direction.

“Like you’d understand.  You don’t have clan politics to worry about” He mutters, his eyes squinting as he turns to face forward again, the sun catching his line of sight harshly.

As always, they’re sat in the gardens.  (y/n) had already collected her small pile of dandelions, and was diligently knotting them together to make her crown.  She’d gotten better at it over the years, thickening the stems with extra of the weed to make it appear more full.  Naoya sat with nothing better to do than be lost in his own thoughts, and occasionally watch her as she worked on her mindless craft.

“I don’t care to worry about clan politics the way you do,” She corrects him, casting him a glance for a mere second before going back to her stems.  “And besides, the politics you worry about are prehistoric,” She adds with a scoff.  “Medieval” She adds bitterly.

Naoya rolls his eyes in good nature.

“Like your clan is any different” He mumbles.

Her elbow knocks into his, and he turns to glare at her for the mock attack, but she’s smiling, and while the sun seems to make him wince, it does wonders to compliment her facial features.

And thinking that she looks beautiful isn’t necessarily a new thought… it’s not like he’s ever found her unattractive.  She was always… pretty… in her quiet sort of way.  But Naoya’s not yet used to thinking about her beauty every time he looks at her, and he hasn’t learned yet what it takes to squash those thoughts.

So for now he tries to pay it little to no mind.  Rest assured, he will find a way to not think about it.

“No, they’re just the same, I’m afraid,” (y/n) hums, tilting her head slightly as she regards him.  “But between you and me, I think I can escape it” 

Naoya barks out a laugh.  He doesn’t believe her.

“You don’t escape family,” He states bitterly.  “You’re stuck with them whether you like it or not” 

“You think?” She asks, arching an eyebrow at him.  Ever so interested in what he thought, even when she thought he was wrong.  

Naoya merely nods.  He knew all too well that you were stuck in the life you were born into.  Even if it meant under-achieving older brothers that didn’t deserve to be the head of the Clan, or the Hei.  Even if it meant being forced into a marriage with a young woman who deserved much, much better than this life.

But he can’t say any of that.  So he nods, and turns to face forward again.

“Well, I don’t think so,” She shrugs one of her shoulders.  “I think we get some say in who we want in our lives,” 

Says the girl forced to come sit here with me three times a month for the last ten years, Naoya thinks bitterly, but again, he keeps it to himself.

“Not that it’s easy, but,” She shrugs again.  “I like to think so, anyways” 

“What’s your grand escape plan, then, pipsqueak?” He asks, admittedly amused by her antics this afternoon.  Which is odd, seeing as normally he’d find it childish, and ignore her.

Pink lips curl into a precious smile as she looks back at him.

“Love, of course” 

He almost laughs, right in her face, which would have broken her seemingly fragile heart, but when she gives him her answer and he realizes it’s not a joke, he almost can’t stop himself.  Almost.  Naoya sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek and clears his throat.

“Love?” He repeats and it comes out of his mouth like he’s never even heard of the concept.  (y/n) chuckles as she nods back at him.

“Yeah, love,” She confirms.  “You remember that guy that took me to spring formal?” 

For fucks’ sake, she has to be joking.  Naoya rolls his eyes as he drags a hand down his face in disbelief.

Despite his clear lack of interest, she goes on.

“Well we’ve hung out a few times now and it’s been… nice.  He likes me and I think I could like him, so,” For a third time, she shrugs, like it was the easiest plan in the world.  “I think if we fell in love, my father would have to let me off the hook a bit, wouldn’t he?” 

No, no he wouldn’t, Naoya knows for a fact that when it comes to arranged marriages, there was no exception to the arrangement.  Unless someone died, there wasn’t a chance of getting out of it.  It didn’t matter if she bore this non-sorcerer’s children, this time next year, she would belong to him.  On paper, at least.

“Your father is far more reasonable than mine,” Naoya sighs.  For some reason, he can’t bring himself to tell her the whole truth.  He continues to entertain her foolish ideas.  “Have you talked to him about this yet?”

“Of course not!” Her voice squeaks as she gasps at the idea.  Naoya can’t help but laugh a little bit at her bashful reaction.

“Does he know about this non-sorcerer-nobody at all?” He presses, and (y/n) chews on her bottom lip as she shakes her head.  Naoya gives her a bored look, silently telling her that she was doomed already.

“Well what was I supposed to say?” She mumbles.  “I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea” 

“I told you not to go down the unfaithful route, pipsqueak,” Naoya sighs.  “Now you’ll have to fess up to all of it” 

“It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong,” She explains.  “Yet…” She adds in a smaller voice.

“Thinkin’ about adultery is just as bad as the real thing,” Naoya chuckles.  “At least in the elders’ eyes” 

(y/n) narrows her eyes at him in mock irritation.

“We’re not married” She reminds him in a mutter.  He only smirks back at her.  He doesn’t have to say anything for her to know what he’s thinking.  

Yet.

“Semantics,” He smirks.

She laughs despite herself.  He seems relaxed today, and after so many years she finally feels like she’s getting the smallest of glimpses into the real him.  She’s always wondered what Zen’in Naoya was really like, and she can’t help but feel eager to finally learn.

“Well, what’s the damage?” He huffs, acting as though he’s not dying to know the specifics of this little relationship she’s found herself in.  “You didn’t sleep with him, did you?” 

“What!? No!” She yelps at the accusation, and this time smacks the back of her hand against his arm.

“You abuse me, wife” He grumbles as he pretends to rub the spot to ease the nonexistent ache.

“We’ve just hung out a few times.  Sometimes he helps me study, sometimes he brings me the drink I like from the cafe—” 

“That stuff doesn’t matter” Naoya rolls his eyes.  What silly little things she found interesting in a man.  Women could be so simple.

“Sure it does,” (y/n) furrows his brows.  “Quality time is-” 

He could care less about the details, so he interrupts her.

“But you’ve kissed him, yeah?” 

The question shuts her up immediately.  She doesn’t try to deflect, or come up with a witty reply to snap back at him.  She shuts her mouth and stares at her lap.  At first he’s amused by the shy display, but as time passes, it begins to click for him that she’s embarrassed.

“You’re acting foolish, pipsqueak,” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back as he does.  Her face feels like it’s getting hotter by the second.  She covers her cheeks with her hands to relieve the burn.  “Your plan relies on childish love and you haven’t even kissed the guy? Who in their right mind will take you seriously?” 

“It’s not childish,” She argues, her voice quiet, and her face still covered by her hands.  “I just— there hasn’t been the right moment.  S-something always came up,” 

She grows quieter with every word, her humiliation washing over her like a wave of dread.  Perhaps Naoya was the wrong person to come to with this.

“Like you’ve kissed people—” She tries to bicker with him, but there’s a glint in his eye as her words catch his interest, and something about the way he smirks and tilts his head makes her second guess herself as she shuts her mouth.

“Oh, don’t tell me,” He’s snickering before he can even finish his words.  (y/n) wishes she could open up the ground and let it swallow her whole.  “You’ve never kissed anyone, pipsqueak?” 

“Would you stop calling me that?” She sighs, but it’s no use.  He’s got his paws on a juicy piece of embarrassing information.  His brutal nature was about to come out in full force.

“And here I was worried about a second-hand wife” He scoffs.

“Hey—!” 

“So why are you hitching your whole plan onto a guy you don’t like, hm? Shouldn’t you go out with a bang?” He smirks and leans back on his elbows.  “Or at least a kiss-” 

“Excuse me? I do too like him” She cuts him off before his cockiness could get overbearing.

“If you liked him, you would’ve kissed him already,” Naoya rolls his eyes.  “I think you need a different plan of action” 

“Well I— I mean I would kiss him,” She stammered over her words.  “There just hasn’t been a good time—” 

“Haven’t you known him for like a year?” Naoya sneers.  “Bit of a prude, hm?” 

(y/n) drops her hands from her face to gape at him, smacking his arm once more.  

“I am not!” She whines, followed by a quiet, “You don’t think he thinks that, do you?”

He huffs.

“I am not going to sit here and gossip about this bullshit with-” 

“Naoya, now you have to help me” She interrupts him, moving forward and latching her hands together in a pleading motion.  

His eyes widen and his brows furrow.  He’s not sure how he landed on this timeline, but this? Since when was she so open and personal with him? What was this treatment? Was it some sort of punishment? Did he do something in a past life to warrant this?

“I don’t have to do sh—” 

“Please?” (y/n) bats her eyelashes, and he’s starting to think she might be a witch.  “Just some advice, that’s all,” She tells him.  “Since you’ve clearly kissed so many people” 

He rolls his eyes, before sitting up off his arms.  That’s not exactly what he’d said.  But he smirks to himself.  There wasn’t any harm in letting her believe that, was there? 

“Whatever.  You don’t need advice.  You just need to pluck up some courage” 

She frowns at him.

“I have courage,” She states.  “It’s not about courage” 

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles to himself.  “Then why exactly haven’t you made a move?” 

(y/n) frowns, dropping her gaze to go back to working on her dandelion crown.

“Well I thought he’d make the first move.  And then he never really did and… now I’m sorta… relying on it, I guess,” She sighs and drops the dandelion loop back into her lap.  “Shit.  He doesn’t even like me, does he?” 

Naoya laughs, a real laugh, with a real smile flashing across his face.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that some non-sorcerer-nobody wasn’t completely enamored in a girl like her.

“No,” He disagrees, the word firm, certain.  “Sounds like you’ve just picked a coward.  Can’t say I’m surprised, pipsqueak, I don’t know why you’d go for a non-sorcerer-” 

“This part’s not helpful” 

“—but, you’ll probably just have to make the first move.  It’s not hard.  You’ll be fine” 

She frowns at him, and it takes an effort for him to not roll his eyes back at her.  She couldn’t be serious.

“Just kiss him, (y/n).  Don’t be stupid.  It’s unbecoming of you.  But you are seventeen, and it’s a little embarrassing of you, too” 

Her frown turns into a look of offense, and he can’t help but laugh a bit again.

“Don’t laugh at me.  And don’t call me embarrassing! You’re the one that told me I couldn’t be unfaithful” 

“Yeah yeah,” He waves his hand dismissively.  “If you’re so worried about it, then kiss me” 

She freezes, her expression going blank while her eyes wildly flicker over his features, trying and failing for the thousandth time to try and figure him out.

He’d suggested so casually, like it was the most obvious solution, like it wouldn’t mean a thing.

Naoya raises his brows and purses his lips, waiting expectantly for her to decide what she was going to do.

“I— you can’t be—?” 

“What difference does it make?” He asks, shaking his head nonchalantly.  “Either you learn how to be a good kisser and you get your boring happily ever after with your non-sorcerer-nobody, or you end up married to me and you’ll only be kissing me for the rest of our lives anyways” 

When he puts it like that, the hair on the back of her neck stands up.  She’d always known in the back of her mind that at the end of the day, it was her and Naoya.  Whether they were friends or partners didn’t matter, and arranged marriage only went one way.  Most of the marriages in the more powerful clans weren’t exactly in loving relationships anyways, it was a mere power grab.  A way to unite clans, or to brush dirty politics under the rug.  

For over ten years she’d been brought to the Zen’in compound to play nice with Naobito’s youngest son.  In all that time she struggled to figure out what that actually meant, how to actually treat him with kindness when all he knew was a sharp tongue and a cold shoulder.  Over time she’d learned to sit back and let herself be entertained by him.  If she couldn’t grow to like him, or worse love him, then she might as well find some amusement in his company.

But now he’s sitting beside her with the offer of a kiss, and not just any kiss, her first kiss, and he’s telling her that it’s for her greater plan of getting out of their arranged marriage? She can’t help but think he’s been using her for his own amusement all this time, as well.  He must have had an ulterior motive.

“What’s in it for you?” Her eyes narrow inquisitively.

He scoffs at the question.

“A kiss is a kiss,” He shrugs.  “But I’ll take it back if you’d rather—” 

“No!” She’s louder than she means to be, and she jumps forward a little closer than she should, closing a significant amount of space between them.  “I mean- no, you’re right, then you can tell me if I’m any good at it” 

He pointedly eyes the small amount of space between them before tilting his head at her, a sly sort of smile on his face as he nods.

“Alright then, pipsqueak,” He hums, beckoning her forward with his hand.  “Do your worst” 

Her brows pinch together for a moment, before her eyes shift down to his lips with apprehension.

While she’s distracted by her uncertainty, Naoya keeps his focus on her.  And for once, he lets himself really look at her.  Her eyes are round with her nerves, just a little wider than usual, almost doe-like.  Her pupils are dilating, and he could almost hear her thoughts just from watching her expression shift and change with each passing one.  His gaze lowers when she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, growing more unsure the longer she thinks about it.

Naoya figures she must be having girlish thoughts.  She was probably worried about losing her first kiss over what was essentially a dare, and would be meaningless.  She was probably worrying herself sick knowing that after this, he would forever be her first kiss, whether she liked it or not.  He could almost scoff at the notion.

The plush of her lip gives under her teeth as she slides it back and forth anxiously.  Naoya watches the action religiously, lost in thought about how pink her lips are, and how he’d never really given them much thought.  Despite her worried gnawing, they look soft, plump, even.  He thinks just from looking at them that she’s bound to be a good kisser with lips like those.  If his own mind weren’t going so haywire with having her so close, maybe he’d make the choice for her and kiss her first.

But he’s too occupied.  Her perfume is wafting up his nose with the lightest scent of something flowery and sugary.  He’s breathing a little deeper to take more of it in, addicted to the feminine scent after just a few whiffs, but he’s doing it so slowly so that she won’t notice that he’s about to suffocate himself.

“Naoya,” She says his name and it comes out like a scold.  He arches a brow when he drags his eyes back up to hers.  She pouts at him.  “You have to close your eyes, you can’t stare at me like that” 

Her cheeks are pink, he notes the rosy blush that’s dusted across her nose, and the longer he watches, he swears he sees the color darkening.  Was she really that flustered just from a little staring? 

“Like what?” He finds himself asking without really thinking.  A nervous laugh escapes her as she sets her gaze on anything but his prying eyes.  The golden brown hue were piercing right through her it seemed, building up her nervous anxiety.

“Just— just close your eyes” She stutters out.

Naoya rolls his eyes, but eventually follows the instruction, letting them fall shut.

“I don’t like being told what to do, pipsqueak,” He says, and with his eyes closed, she finds the confidence to reach forward, fingertips barely skimming over his chin, and then along his sharp jaw.  She doesn’t miss the way his throat bobs when he swallowed thickly.  “And hurry it up, I’m getting bored-” 

“I don’t like being told what to do either,” She quips, but her voice is barely above a whisper, soft breaths fanning over his lips.  “I just— give me a damn second” 

She knows if his eyes were open, he’d be rolling them.  Jackass.

He can feel her fingers trembling against his skin, resulting in the lightest of tapping against his jaw.  His lips curl upwards against his will.

“Princess, breathe,” He mumbles, blindly reaching up for her hand, wrapping her fingers with his own.  “It’s just a kiss, what is it that you’re stressing this hard over?” 

“Well w-what if this all doesn’t work out and th-then—” 

“I said breathe,” He commands, and despite the instruction being in her best interest, his tone is sharp.  She obeys it immediately, shutting her mouth and breathing in deeply through her nose, before slowly letting it out.  He waits until she’s no longer shaking before speaking again.  “D’you want me to do it?” 

Her eyes snap up to his, although he’s kept them closed all this time.  She can’t believe he hasn’t cheated on her rule.

“No, I… I can do it” She mumbles with certainty, before tilting forward in the smallest movement.  

The tip of her nose touches his for a moment, before brushing past as she gets closer.  Her fingers press a little more firmly against his jaw, making sure he won’t move when she finally does it.

Her heart is beating so hard in her chest she knows he can hear it, if not feel it as she shuffles closer to him.  She can’t believe he hasn’t teased her for it.  Maybe he’s just waiting, so once she kisses him and this is all over, he can torment her and hang it over her head for the rest of their lives.

But just as the bitter thought crosses her mind, her eyes flicker down to where his hand is still loosely wrapped around one of hers, keeping her touch present against his jaw, and keeping them still.  It’s not a firm hold, but gentle, so loose she knows if she were to pull away he’d drop it instantly.  And then she can’t help but feel that maybe Zen’in Naoya has a soft spot for her.  Maybe there’s a side of him that’s quiet, and slow, and gentle, and maybe she can let go of her silly anxiety to indulge herself in that side of him.

She counts down from three in her head.  Then closes her eyes.  And leans the rest of the way forward.

As for Naoya, he can’t say he’s ever really thought about his first kiss.  He wasn’t one to care about the milestone of it, or really any of the specifics.  If it had crossed his mind in the past, it was only with the intention of wanting to kiss a worthy girl.  A pretty girl.  Beyond that, fireworks or romance wasn’t even in the question.  It didn’t really matter.

But (y/n’s) lips are even softer than they looked.  They’re timid, unmoving when they first touch his.  He’s surprised she even followed through with it, he was completely prepared for her to chicken out and beg him to forget the whole thing.  Next thing he knows she’s kissing him and he kisses her back as soon as he realizes she’s not shyly backing away after two seconds.  She follows his lead slowly, her fingers pushing along his jawline until they reach the soft locks of hair that just barely hangs past his ears.

He wasn’t prepared for this.

It wasn’t fireworks, and it wasn’t some grand romantic gesture either.  

It was… peaceful.  Like sinking into a warm bath after a long day of training.  

It was warm, and comfortable.  Like the first day of spring once the snow had all melted away and the flowers were getting ready to bloom once more.

A kiss is a kiss, he’d told her, like a damn fool.  

Naoya’s hands began to wander, dropping hers to cup them gently around her warm cheeks, making sure to touch her as softly as possible, so as not to startle her.  She surprises him again when she leans carefully into his palm, lips still too enamored with his to pull away.  

This was not just a kiss.

She lets out a soft sigh when they finally do part, lips still brushing his and her eyes still shut as she catches her breath quickly and quietly.

He’s frozen then, right through his bones.  His hands are still on her face, his eyes are unblinking when she finally opens her own, shyly meeting his gaze.  He thinks he must look like a fucking imbecile right about now, staring at her silently while she’s clearly waiting for his approval of her kissing ability.

But he can’t say a damn thing.  He can’t move an inch.  She’s rendered him weaker than he’s ever felt before.

The pad of her thumb mindlessly strokes a gentle shape at the junction where his jaw meets his neck, and his heart is stuttering again, just like earlier.

Except now he knows it’s not a medical condition.  

It was beating like that for her.

“Well?” She murmurs, soft and hopeful as her eyes flicker in between his.  “What’d you think?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

WINTER, 2008

Their eighteenth years came and went, and with it, the notion of an arranged marriage.

Naoya stood before his father, his hands currently curled into tight fists that were sure to leave crescent shapes in his palms with how harshly he dug his nails into the skin.  His jaw was locked as he ground his teeth together to keep himself from blurting out something he’d regret, but his frustration was made abundantly evident. 

It was more than frustration.  He was livid.

“What the hell do you mean she’s not mine to marry?” He’d all but snarled at the head of the Zen’in Clan.

Naobito sat back in his chair, still focused on whatever paperwork was in front of him, as disinterested in the affairs of his son as ever.

Even now, while Naoya’s entire perception of the rest of his life was falling apart at the seams, the older man barely lifts his head when speaking.

“She never has been, son.  Where is this sudden urgency to marry coming from?” 

“Sudden urg-? What are you talking about?” Naoya throws his hands out, exasperated from this conversation going in circles.  “Her father’s been dropping her off here with me for years in order for us to get to know each other.  You’ve been arranging this marriage from behind the scenes since we were six” 

Finally, Naobito raises his head just long enough to give his son a confused shake back and forth.

“You’re looking for things that aren’t there.  Our intention was never to arrange for young (y/n) to marry you, Naoya,” He’s calm, despite his son’s rage being too large for the room.  “What is this about?” He asks, dropping his pen as he regards his youngest son with a raised chin.  “Am I to believe you’ve grown to care for her?” 

“That doesn’t matter,” Naoya snaps with a scoff in his throat.  “What matters is she was supposed to be my wife, she was meant to be my bride since we were kids, that— that was always-!” 

“Her father never had an interest in you as a suitor,” Naobito lets out a scoff of his own, an amused smirk on his face.  Naoya shuts his mouth, pressing his lips into a thin line as his anger starts to simmer.  “You were too harsh, son.  Too… sharp around the edges for his only daughter.  Look at it from his perspective, hm? Head of his clan, only one heir and it’s his precious little girl.  Would you be pulling strings to set her up with you?” Naobito scoffs again, this time followed by an amused chuckle.  “Our clans only recently started mending things after our… history…” He trails off thoughtfully.  “(y/l/n) (y/f/n) was never going to give away his only daughter to you, much less any of your brothers, or anyone who bore the Zen’in name” 

Naoya’s chest is rising and falling so roughly, he wonders if this could be the brink of a panic attack.  All his life he thought he’d be stuck with her.  The last thirteen years, he’d thought that at the end of it all, she’d be the one by his side.  And for a long time he resented her for it, hated her for it.  And then, for some reason, without explanation, something changed.  In the way she looked at him, in the way he felt about himself when he was around her, he couldn’t quite put a finger on when it happened.  

But when she was seventeen and needed to get her first kiss out of the way, he was the one she went to.

And when she was fourteen and had just mastered her Reversed Cursed Technique, he was who she told proudly, even with the gruesome story.

And when they were eight, and he’d oh-so stupidly told her that they were being set up for an arranged betrothal, she’d told him she would marry him.

Yet here he stands at nineteen, having naively entered his father’s study with the intent of arranging the details of the proposal— the dowry, the location, the letter he’d have to write to (y/n’s) father— and for the first time in his life, he’s being told no.

“I don’t know what led you to believe you were to be her suitor, son” 

“We both thought that was the arrangement,” He muttered.  “Since we were kids, (y/n) and I thought-” 

“She’s going to Tokyo this weekend, Naoya,” Naobito huffs, pinching his fingers through his mustache to relieve his stress from this pesky situation.  “Her father is bringing her to meet with a young man around your age.  He does intend on marrying her off, but he was waiting until it was appropriate” 

Naoya’s hands are clenched into fists again.  He couldn’t believe this.

“This isn’t— I won’t have this” He mutters.

That perks Naobito’s interest.

“Son, we can find suitors of other clans to-” 

“I don’t need to be set up with weak, worthless, women!” He shouts over this father, possibly for the first time since he was a misbehaving child.  “I already had a— there was already supposed to be—!” 

He can’t find the words, or maybe just the strength to say them.  But with a huff he’s spinning on his heel and marching back out of the study.  He’d said his piece, and there was nothing more the head of the clan could do for the situation.  It was out of their hands.

Naobito watches in silence as his son leaves, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind him.  He hadn’t seen an outburst like that from his youngest son in years.  He didn’t understand the nature of it all, because it wasn’t like Naoya to be infatuated with a person, much less a young woman with a cursed technique that parallels his in strength, but he didn’t know what else could have gotten him so worked up over the whole thing.

There wasn’t a chance Naoya truly had grown to love her, was there? 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

2009

For her twenty-first birthday, (y/n) was gifted a grand party.  The guest list was extensive, the catering was expensive, and no cost was spared for the whole ordeal.  The grand courtyard of the (y/l/n) estate was the perfect place to throw such an elegant party, complete with fountains, twinkling lights, and of course, live music.  An expensive part for an expensive family.  It was typical.

Naoya didn’t come to these sorts of events often.  The idea of walking around and sucking up to whichever elitist family was hosting just seemed so… dull.  The parties themselves were often the same thing over and over, appetizers, mingling with people that only wanted to show off, drinking, and then going home and feeling like shit.

And truthfully, he wasn’t going to go to this one.  Even though he hadn’t seen (y/n) in over a year, and even once his father made it clear that while the Zen’ins had been invited, he was specifically requested to attend, from the birthday girl herself, he’d said.

So now here he was, with a permanent scowl on his face and a very expensive suit that he would never wear again.  He doesn’t look like he wants to be here, because he doesn’t, and yet anyone who saw him that night would have said that he was on a mission to find someone.  Whoever it was must have been important, seeing as he didn’t pause to talk to anyone.

But he figures she’d invited him specifically.  She requested his attendance.  The least he could do was wish her a happy birthday, right? 

There’s a lot more he wants to say to her.  A year and a half’s worth of messy thoughts that barely made sense to him but every bone in his body told him to find her and lay it all out.  Even if he had to drag her away from her own party, and hold her by her shoulders to keep her in place so she’d listen.

Naoya didn’t chase people down.  Ever.

So when fifteen minutes after his arrival he finally finds her, with The Honored One himself, he considers turning around and leaving without the intention of ever speaking to her again.

But it had to be Gojo Satoru of all people.  Powerful, filthy fucking rich, charming, devilishly handsome, Special Grade, Gojo Fucking Satoru.  It couldn’t have been any other eligible bachelor from a well of clan, it couldn’t have been some nobody for him to turn his nose up at and walk away from with a boost to the ego.

He stews for too long in his bitter thoughts, and from across the crowd of people, she sees him.  It’s too late for him to turn around and leave unnoticed.  She’s already picking up the skirt of her dress so her feet don’t trip over it as she quickly makes her way over to him.

He could still leave, he thinks distantly.  But as she gets closer he can see that she’s smiling, she’s actually glad that he’s here, and once again he’s frozen while he’s reeling from the shock.

He still tries to maintain his scowl, he can’t have people getting the wrong idea once she’s close enough he can hear her delighted laughter and ramblings of “You came! You got my invite? It’s been so long!”.

And he hates it, he hates seeing her, especially when she’s so relieved to see him, especially when she looks so radiant, in her pretty party dress that’s draped so perfectly on her it must’ve been tailored, and with her hair falling around her shoulders and down her back so perfectly she didn’t even look real she looked fucking angelic—

“Naoya?”

His name falling from her lips has him blinking himself back to reality, his nasty expression falling momentarily as he takes her in and realizes she really is standing here right in front of him.

“You alright?” (y/n) asks, once it seems he’s conscious again.  Her grin had morphed into a worried little smile.  Shit, he can’t tear his eyes away from her lips.  

“I’m fine,” He declares, void of any real emotion.  “Happy birthday, by the way” 

Her smile brightens a bit more then, and her eyes gleam too.

“Thank you,” She replies sheepishly.  “I’m really glad you came, I wasn’t sure if you’d accept the invite” 

“Yeah, it’s not really my thing” Naoya clicks his tongue as his eyes wander the courtyard, taking in the estate properly for the first time.  Anything to distract himself from her.

“I know,” She sighs softly, her head tilting as she regards him, her cheeks inevitably warming up the longer she stares.  “You changed your hair” 

He looks back at her, still making the effort to keep his expression neutral, and she can tell, but she doesn’t comment on it.

“Yeah.  While ago” He replies dryly.  

It wasn’t long after he’d last seen her that he’d taken to a change in style.  She just so happened to stop coming around with her father around that time.

“I like it,” She says quietly, a bit awkwardly.

At times it feels like she’s forgotten how to speak to him, not that he was ever the easiest person to get along with.  Yet, in their time apart, she found herself missing him.  Thinking about him.  Wondering what he was up to, or if he ever thought about her.

“Oh, I know,” Her eyes light up with an idea, before she beckons him to follow her.  “I should show you the gardens!” 

Just like that, she’s leading him away from the party, away from the prying eyes of Gojo Satoru, who seems to watch the scandalous pair with a smirk on his face.  Naoya scowls back at him, but ultimately focuses on following (y/n) around the courtyard, and then behind her estate.

“You do recall that you were the one that cared about the damn flowers, right?” He asks her once they’re far enough away that the voices of her partygoers were drowned out by the muffled music.

“And you don’t like being around crowds of people,” She reminds him, glancing over her shoulder with a proud grin on her face.  He rolls his eyes at her.  “I’m doing us both a favor!” She declares.

He’s not so convinced, but he doesn’t put up a fight.  He simply tucks his hands in his pockets and bears it as they wander around the yard in the dark.

He tries to keep his damn mouth shut, he really does.  But it doesn’t take long before he’s blurting out the thought on the front of his mind.

“So Daddy picked a Gojo for you, hm?” 

As soon as it comes out, he regrets it.  Because (y/n) isn’t shy in the way she pauses on her journey so that she can turn to face him with that curious look of hers.  He’s never been interrogated by her, but he suspects it wouldn’t go well.

“I wouldn’t say that,” She muses, her words carefully picked out.  “Not a Gojo anyways… more like, The Gojo, don’t you think?” 

The smirk on her face tells him that he’s bearing witness to the witty side of her personality, the side that likes to poke and get reactions out of him that she knows she can.  Naoya rolls his eyes again, and to his luck, (y/n) goes back to leading him out to the gardens.

“So full of it” He grumbles.

She giggles, having heard it.

“My father took me to Tokyo last year so we could meet.  Mostly, I think he wanted to meet Satoru, he was a bit shell shocked.  But we got along well.  He’s… fun” Again, she’s careful with her words, and Naoya can tell.  He grimaces, his hands forming fists in his pockets.

“So you hit it off then, hm?” He presses further, despite his gut feeling twisted enough.  “Whatever happened to your non-sorcerer-nobody?” 

“Oh,” It dawned on her that it really had been a while since they last spoke.  “You were right,” She glances over her shoulder at him once more, her expression unreadable as she says, “I didn’t like him,” And then she’s facing forward again and finally reaching the gardens of the estate.  “At least, not like I thought I did,” She clarifies.  “Kinda hard to explain, I guess.  He was a good guy and all just…” She shrugs her shoulders, and she couldn’t come up with anything else to say so she didn’t say anything at all.

Naoya nods, his brow furrowing as he glances over the large expanse of flowers and bushes, all trimmed and perfectly on display, even in the dark.  A garden at night was probably one of the worst places to be.  Not only was he stuck wandering around outside, but he couldn’t even see the damn things.

“To be honest, once I’d gone to my father to tell him about, well, having feelings for a non-sorcerer, I’d gone on my big speech about how I wasn’t ready to be married off, how I wasn’t ready to be a wife and how I wanted to travel and take on assignments exoricizing curses and— and trying to find the right field for my technique… anyways, I was pretty surprised when he told me I wasn’t arranged to married off at all,” 

She’s looking at him, he can feel her soft yet piercing gaze staring right at him, but Naoya can’t bring himself to look away from whatever blue flowers were before him now.

“We had a great talk, though.  He told me he wouldn’t marry me off if I wasn’t ready, and even then only if it were in my best interest and with my approval… not that this matters,” She mumbles the last part, realizing she was rambling on with nonsense.  “I mean it’s what I wanted… but I guess I’m still sort of surprised that’s how it worked out” 

(y/n) wraps her arms around herself, although it’s not a chilly night, she’s lured into the defensive stance as she drops her gaze from him.

He merely hums, barely nodding his head to agree.  Saying he was surprised to find out they were never truly arranged to be married would have been an extreme understatement.

“Anyways…” The air is thick with an uncomfortable tension, and (y/n) nervously coughs to clear her throat.  “How have you been doing?” 

“Fine” 

Naoya’s answer is quick, and sharp.  (y/n) winces at the bite in the singular word, and her nerves begin to grow into irritation, but she tries to remain as calm and collected as always.

“Has your father been giving you more responsibilities for—” 

“What the hell does it matter to you?” 

She can’t keep her expression soft at the rude question.  Her nose crinkles and her brows furrow as she narrows her eyes back at him.

“Excuse me?” 

Her attitude comes out in less than a second and suddenly she’s crossing her arms and Naoya doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look this upset.  There’s a twinge of guilt in his chest knowing he caused it with his coldness, but it passes as he’s quickly reminded of the reality they found themselves in.

“It doesn’t matter to you,” He scoffs, a humorless smile curling on his lips.  “So what do you care?” 

“What the hell is that supposed to—?” 

He interrupts her before she could finish her question.

“What’s the point of even inviting me here, huh? Is this some sick ploy? You want to show off for once?” 

Her eyes widened at the accusation out of left field.  She doesn’t have a clue what he’s going on about, but it’s making her blood boil.  It seemed that even when it came to him, her patience could wear thin.  And his time was long overdue.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She mutters at him, wrapping her arms a little tighter around herself.  “I invited you because I wanted you to come,” She explained.  “And I thought maybe even though this wasn’t your scene, you’d want to come, too” 

Naoya rolls his eyes.

“Oh, spare me, pipsqueak,” The old nickname rolls off his tongue with nothing short of disgust, and he can see the way she recoils upon hearing it said in such a way.  “You invited me, I came.  We’re done now, yeah? You can run back to Satoru now” 

Oh, he hadn’t missed the way she’d oh so affectionately called the world’s strongest sorcerer by his first fucking name.

(y/n) scowls back at him, which was something unfamiliar to the both of them.  She was always the calm one, the collected, soft spoken one.  Now she looked seconds away from smacking him across the face.

“What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Her eyes are wide as they study his expression, trying to figure out what was going on in his head, seeing as he definitely wasn’t going to just be honest with her.  “I mean, fuck, is it really so hard for you to believe I wanted you here?” 

Naoya scoffs again, leaning back and facing away from her as he covers the upset expression on his face.  This only makes her more upset, and the harsh laugh that escapes her throat is anything but humored.

“You’ve got to be kidding! After all this time, you can’t just say it can you? You can’t be real with me for even a minute?” She moves forward, trying to grab him by the arms to turn him to face her, but he doesn’t budge, and shrugs her off.

He couldn’t have her looking at him right now.  Not when he was losing the battle of masking all of his emotions.

She huffs in defeat and throws her arms down when she fails to get him to look at her already.  Against her will, her anger turns into something worse as tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes.

“You know, I was actually upset when my father said he wasn’t going to take me to see you anymore,” She spits at him, but the tiny waiver in her voice betrays her.  She swallowed thickly to try to relieve the burn in her throat, but it was no use.  He’d already heard the crack in her voice, and finally, he’s just barely turning his head to peek down at her.  “Because I— I might not have known what I wanted, but I spent m-my whole, life, thinking that it’d always be y-you n’ me in the end” 

His irritation is washed away as soon as he sees those doe eyes filled with tears.  When he was younger, and more of a bratty asshole than a regular asshole, he would’ve loved to make her tick like this.  He would’ve felt pride knowing he’d reduced her to childish tears.

Right now, he thinks he could throw up.

Suddenly too much of his attention is on her for her liking, and when he pulls his hands out of his pockets to reach for her, she smacks both of his hands away as harshly as she could bring herself to do.

“(y/n)—” He tried to scold her but she wasn’t having it, already gathering the skirt of her dress to storm off and leave him there.

“Forget it.  You’re right.  We’re nothing to each other now, right?” She laughs bitterly as she leaves as fast as she can in the stupid heels she’d decided to wear.

“I didn’t— (y/n)!” He breaks into a slight jog to catch up with her, darting in front of her to keep her from walking away too easily.  “For fucks’ sake, would you just pause for a second?” 

She glares at him, as well as she can through the tears clouding her vision.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, his tone significantly more gentle than before, but it still doesn’t quite cross that line into genuine compassion.  It makes her scoff, before she’s roughly wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

“Because,” She answers lamely, looking down at her hands to make sure she wasn’t smearing makeup all over her face.  “Because— you—! Why didn’t you at least call?” 

His brows furrow, not following where her argument was going.

“Or write?” She adds before he can question her.  “I haven’t seen you in a year, did you just… just…” Her chest is rising and falling unsteadily as she tries to catch her breath before she starts to cry again, but her efforts are futile.  The longer she looks at him and his voice of emotion, the more the urge to sob her pathetic eyes out overwhelms her.  “You forgot about me” She declares, quietly, her eyes shifting between his before focusing on the ground.

“Forgot about you?” He repeats her, clicking his tongue as she shakes his head.  

She refuses to look at him, so he catches her chin under his forefinger, tilting her head upwards with a surprising amount of gentleness.  She still tries to glare at him, but her furrowed brows and big sad eyes do nothing to ward him off.

“(y/n), I didn’t forget about you,” He tells her with more sincerity than she’s ever heard out of him before.  “I’m sorry I didn’t reach out, I really am, alright? But the old man said you were off to Tokyo and you had other— real suitors to look for,” He explains, golden eyes never once leaving hers so that she could see he was telling her the truth.  “What was I supposed to do, hm? What did you want me to do?” 

Her lips quiver as they move, but no real words come out.  He watches as she tries, as they form various shapes but inevitably she shakes her head as another tear slips down her cheek.  She doesn’t know what he should’ve done, and what she wanted was too tall of an ask.

“(y/n),” He sighs, a frown forming on his face that makes her worried about what he had to say next.  “You are far too powerful, and far too desirable as a suitor to be cryin’ over someone like me, alright?” He tells her.  She opens her mouth to say something, but he’s quicker.  “If anything, you should’ve forgotten about me as soon as you heard we weren’t—” 

“I didn’t want to,” She finally finds her voice, her nose wrinkling as she sniffles quietly.  “I didn’t want to forget.  I— I didn’t want to go to Tokyo to meet other suitors, I— I didn’t even want to go out with that guy back in high school, I— I just—” Her stutter worsens and Naoya fits his palm over her cheek, not knowing what to say to soothe her emotions.

Her eyes shut and she leans into the warmth of his hand.  She squeezes her eyes shut even tighter as she recalls when he’d last touched her like this.  He’d kissed her, then.

“I wanted more time with you.  I— I thought I’d have more time with you” She admits, barely raising above a whisper.

Naoya frowns when she looks up at him, her lashes sticky from her tears, her eyes full of an emotion he didn’t know what to do with.  Of course he’d sweep her off her feet and kiss her until every tear had dried if he could.

So he shakes his head at her, a sad smile on his lips as he does.

“No, pipsqueak, you don’t want that,” He tells her with as much certainty as he can muster.  She argues with him as she shakes her head back at him, and he even chuckles a bit.  “You don’t,” He tells her seriously.  “You need to be with someone your father has approved—” 

“No I don’t,” She speaks up this time, shaking her head a little more vigorously to make her point.  “I don’t, I don’t need him to—” 

“(y/n), I’m serious,” He tells her, cupping her face in both hands now so she had to look at him and see just how much he meant it.  “You wanted out of the arrangement, remember? You have a thousand lives to live still, you said so yourself.  You wanted travel? And to exorcize curses?” 

She frowns as he uses her words against her, and he sighs softly, his thumb stroking over her soft cheekbone thoughtfully.  He shouldn’t even be this close to her, but he can’t help it.  Seeing her cry because of him had his instincts making him do crazy things he’d come to regret soon enough.

“Why can’t I have both?” She mumbles, her eyes flickering between his.

He chuckles, and for a moment he actually smiles down at her.

“We don’t always get everything we want, pipsqueak” He mumbles, his thumb trailing downwards, around her smile line, and halting just under her lower lip.

“And that’s what you want, too?” She asks him, her brows knotting together.  “You don’t want to see me anymore? You want me to— to go find another suitor in someone else?” 

He would literally rather be dragged to the deepest pit of hell and burn for all of eternity without a second of relief from the pain.

His brow twitches.

“If that’s what’s best for you, then, yes” Naoya answers carefully.

“That’s not a real answer” She argues.

“It is” He retorts.

“It’s not,” She leans forward, close enough and fast enough that Naoya leans away to keep the distance between them.  Her brow furrows.  “If you didn’t want to see me anymore, then why did you come tonight?” 

His suspicions were correct.  He won’t hold up well being interrogated by her.

“It’s your birthday, you invited me” He states the facts, dropping his hands from her face.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, and she’s quick to grab his wrists, and she holds on tightly, making sure there wasn’t a chance he’d yank away from her.

“For once,” Her voice is soft, pleading.  “Just once, please, just be honest with me,” She begs him, her eyes wide and round and just as hopeful as her words.  “Please, Naoya, just… just tell me something real” 

He can’t.  And even worse he shouldn’t.  If he were to stand before her right now and tell her precisely how bad he wanted her, that he thought about calling or writing every day since she’s been gone, that he’d lay awake at night considering a life of an unmarried clan head that would be hated both by his own clan and every other one, just because the thought of having to marry anyone but the girl he’d sworn himself to at eight years old made him physically sick.  If he was honest with her now, there would be no taking any of it back.  At this point, they could be redeemed.  He could leave her now, hope for the best with her life with Gojo of all people, and maybe he’d have some peace of mind knowing she was at least treated well.

But there would always be that voice.  The nagging one in the back of his mind.  The one that wouldn’t let him rest if he never told her the truth.

And if after all this time she’d still have him, he would allow himself to be completely, utterly hers.  If she wanted a life full of travel and long distance assignments, he’d agree to it.  He’d bend over backwards to meet any ridiculous condition she held, as long as it meant that at the end of the day he was hers and she was his.  He didn’t need a housewife, a cook, a maid, nor a woman to carry his heirs, he wouldn’t ask anything of her for the rest of their lives as long as she would call him hers.  

Naoya frowns at her as he sighs, shoulders dropping and arms loosening in her hold as she stares at him expectantly.  To his surprise, when he pulls them away, she lets him.  Her hands fall slack at her sides, her face shadowed with hurt as she waits for him to turn and walk away from her.

He steps forward, closing the distance between them and laying his hands under her jaw, tilting her towards him just enough so it was easier for him to bend down and slam his lips against hers.

Her own hands are grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket and pulling, pulling, pulling until he’s practically stumbling just to get a little bit closer to her.  Naoya drops a hand from her face in order to curl it over her hip, squeezing tightly before wrapping his arm around her back, keeping her snug against his chest so she couldn’t pull away before he was ready to let her go.

And that time had to come at some point, even though he’d die standing here just to kiss her for a few seconds longer.  They’re already panting between messy kisses, neither one of them ready to give up just yet.

“Don’t,” She mumbles in between kisses, her hands reaching up to lay around his neck, fingers carding through the hair that laid over his nape, before curling and holding on to him there.  “Don’t leave” 

The hand that he still had resting around her cheek squeezed softly, and the kiss he gives her with it is slower, and lingers for just a few seconds longer than before.  (y/n) squeezes her eyes shut, trying to hold onto every second of it, worried he was going to decide it was the last one.

When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far.  His forehead is glued to hers, and their lips brush when he speaks quietly.

“Nothing could keep me from you, princess,” He murmurs, his thumb stroking her cheek in soothing movements.  “I would’ve readily, happily taken you as my wife,” 

Her eyes swell with tears again, and he’s quick to brush the wetness from under her lashes before they could fall.  She’s overwhelmed with emotion.  She’s never heard him speak so softly, so sweetly.  Her heart is beating erratically, and holds onto him a little tighter, knowing now that her feelings had been reciprocated, that she wasn’t just making things up.

“I mean it, (y/n),” He continues, eyes moving between hers.  “You were everything I ever wanted.  I… I couldn’t stand not having you.  It was always supposed to be you and me” 

A watery laugh escapes her, her lips tilting into a smile as she shuts her eyes to try and will the tears to subside.

“Y-you do, you do have me,” She tells him through a whimper, before stealing a chaste kiss and rambling on again.  “It’s always been you, I always wanted it to be you,” She cries.  “I— I love you, Naoya” 

Her face has never burned as much as it does now.  In all her years of training herself to have complete control over her emotions, it feels as though a dam has been broken clean through.  The honesty with herself and with him was so long overdue, it was as though as soon as she admitted it, a weight was lifted, a blockage removed from her path, and her heart felt so full it was as though the feeling couldn’t possibly be contained just by the beating muscle.  For years she found herself picking apart Zen’in Naoya, reading between backhanded comments and a cold exterior, and it was taxing work, but the reward had proven to be oh so worth it.

His lips curl into a faint smile, in pure disbelief that this was happening right now.  Her hands in his hair so tightly it would hurt to move, her face so close he could kiss her without moving a full inch, everything about her, from her pretty face to her genuine words, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind how he felt about her.

His smile twists into more of a grin as he reaches his hand up to push a stray lock of hair out of her face.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” He tells her softly, earning a sweet smile out of her.  “Bit unconventional though, don’t you think?” 

“Good,” She murmurs, tilting forward to brush her lips over his.  “I hate the outdated bullshit” She adds in a whisper before locking her lips with his again.

Naoya kisses her deeply.  He kisses her like each one was going to be their last, like this was some cruel dream that he was going to wake up from anytime now, so he’d have to savor it.  (y/n) hums delightedly into his mouth, eagerly returning the long-awaited passion.

“So you don’t want to marry me now?” He teases in between a couple more kisses.  (y/n) laughs, struggling to meet his lips as she does.

“I couldn’t possibly accept a proposal on my birthday,” She scolds.  “You’ll have to do better than that” 

“Alright, fine then,” He agrees.  “If you don’t make me hang around Gojo the rest of the night, I won’t propose” 

She grins, looping her arms behind his neck and tilting her head at him with an affectionate look in her eye.  There wasn’t a moment that she wasn’t beautiful, but he always thought she was the most beautiful when she was looking at him.  It was as though she glowed.

He’d have to find a way to make it up to her— all the time he wasted not telling her how beautiful she truly was.  He’d likely spend the rest of his life reminding her, and even then, he doesn’t think it would be enough.

“You’ve got a deal, Zen’in” She replies, before tilting onto the tips of her toes again to steal one more kiss.

It would prove to be difficult to explain to her father that the man she’d previously tried to prove she didn’t love and therefore couldn’t marry is now the only one she could ever love, and that when she thought about the distant future, she could only see herself by his side, no matter his clan, it was Naoya her heart belonged to.  But she’s sure she could find some way to tell him the whole story and win him over the same way she’d been won over.

And if not, there was always eloping.  She was the only heir to her clan after all.  How hard could it be to pull some strings in the name of young love? 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

bonus:

To whom it may concern of the (y/l/n) estate, 

While it is my understanding that your intentions aren’t to wed (y/n) off without her say in the matter, I’m writing to you to declare myself as her proper suitor.  I plan on waiting a long while before officially making her my wife, but when the time is right and I’m sure that she won’t come to regret the choice, I will be taking her hand in marriage.

I’ve thought of her as my bride to be since we were children.  Whether I was thrilled about the idea at the time or not, it was certain.  She was my one true destiny, and that still rings true today.  The truth is I love your daughter.  And the prospect of making her my wife is something I’ve kept to myself for a long, long time.

When the time is right I will come to you in hopes of receiving a proper blessing.  Trust that your family will have the full support and allyship for as long as we both shall live, and trust that your daughter will be in good hands, of a man who isn’t marrying out of satiating clan politics, but completely, and deeply out of his love for her.

Sincerely, Zen’in Naoya.

“Naoya?” 

A tired voice from behind him has the man leaning up from his desk, just as he’s tucked his nearly written letter into a fresh envelope.  (y/n) sits up slowly off the bed, rubbing one eye as she squints at him in the dark.

“What’re you doin’ up?” She mumbles.  “Writing?” 

“It’s nothing, pipsqueak,” He murmurs, standing from his chair and sliding it quietly back into place before making his way over to her.  “Let’s go back to sleep, hm? It’s late” 

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” She mumbles back at him.  She coos when he’s back in bed and she’s able to curl back up on his chest.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to overcome her again.  “G’night”  “Goodnight, my love”

[ he lives for love... ]

___

a/n: there i did it i wrote a big ol' soft piece about na*ya zen'in bcuz i have a bitchass 'i can fix him' mentality </3

xoxo ~ jordie

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

౨ৎ good morning ౨ৎ

summary: reader and bucky are very much in love and have their morning routine down to a tee. bucky manhandles the reader a lot but not in a weird way, just in an "i love you and can't live without you" kinda way.

warning: fluffffff (bucky and reader are EXTREMELY in love and love to show it)

wc: 1.8k

pairing: domestic!bucky x reader

a/n: I wrote this between the hours of 11PM-1AM when i was feeling especially psychotic. I am so sleep deprived I’m sorry. But I just came up with this sweet little scenario and had to write it down. This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to daydream.

playlist:

౨ৎ

You opened your eyes, groaning as soft sunlight filtered through your open blinds. You tried remembering the dream you had just abruptly woken up from. Something about a tall, muscular, brown-haired man. The man of your dreams. The man whose arms were now around you from behind, caging you to his warm chest.

You turned around to find Bucky gently stirring in the light of the sunrise. You reached your arms out around his shoulders as he slowly blinked his eyes open. You were both morning people and were glad for it because it meant the two of you were in sync. Neither of you got much sleep, what with Bucky being plagued by his nightmares and you by your insomnia. However, you were in it together, making hell sightly more endurable.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he mumbled with a sweet smile, burying his face in your chest. You squirmed slightly in his arms as his thick beard scratched your chest. You were coming to like his grown-out facial hair. It made him look like a soft teddy bear rather than a violently beautiful Greek god. Yes, you quite preferred this look to his freshly shaven one with his chiseled cheekbones and jawline of steel on full display. With his beard, he looked somewhat more approachable, more domestic, and more lovable than ferociously intimidating.

“Good morning, my moonlight,” you whispered. He was the moonlight to your sunshine, the darkness to your light. He complimented you so perfectly that it sometimes made you want to cry.

Bucky interrupted your thoughts by pulling your body on top of his. “Mmh, I love you so much,” his voice was slightly muffled as his face was still smushed against your chest, and he wrapped his thick arms around your back, securing you in place on top of him.

“I love you too, baby boy,” you combed your fingers through his hair. It was much shorter than it used to be, but it was starting to grow out like his beard. You were not complaining, however. The long summer days the two of you spent swimming in the pool caused his hair to curl at the ends, and it was a lighter shade of brown now than it was during the colder months.

“Wanna stay here with you forever,” Bucky mumbled into your chest, peppering sweet kisses to your neck and jawline before lazily moving his lips all over your face.

“C’mon, Bucky, you say this every morning,” you giggled. “We gotta get up soon, bubs. We have things to do and people to see.” You pushed his face away, scrunching your nose when you caught a whiff of his morning breath.

“They can wait,” he muttered, half-heartedly batting his arm at the air like a petulant child. You almost giggled but caught yourself. You couldn’t encourage him on like this. You actually did have a lot of errands to run later in the day and a long to-do list to accomplish. While you wanted nothing more than to indulge Bucky (because, duh, why would you want to do anything but lay here in your soft bed, basking in the morning light with the man you loved), you knew you needed to be an adult and put your responsibilities first if you wanted to prevent your life from falling apart. You decided to give him ten more minutes. After that, you would force yourself to get up.

You almost fell back asleep, tangled up in his arms. In fact, you probably would have if it hadn’t been for your grumbling stomach. You were past the point in your relationship where this embarrassed you. In fact, you were grateful to your stomach for choosing to be so loud because otherwise, you might not have gotten out of bed all day.

But before you could leap out of bed and berate Bucky for almost making you fall asleep again, he leaped up, carrying you like a child. Of course, he would get up when you were in danger of being hungry. “Can’t let my pretty doll starve, now can I?” he smirked down at you.

“Barnes, you have five seconds to put me down!”

“Five, four, three, two…,” Bucky ran into your shared bathroom, clutching you in his arms like you were a football. “…one! Touchdown!” he plopped you down on the toilet’s closed lid, holding onto your shoulders for balance as he let out a belly laugh.

“I hate you,” but you were smiling a mile wide even as you said it.

“Aw, that’s too bad, doll,” Bucky fake-pouted at you, backing away out of the bathroom. “Because I lava you very very much.” He said the last part in his silliest baby voice, scrunching up his face to give you air kisses as he turned to leave.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help grinning like you had won the lottery. Truthfully, you had won the lottery because if wealth was measured in happiness, you were ecstatic, floating above everyone else. It was the same silly routine every morning, with Bucky forcing you to cuddle him in bed for at least a half hour and then bolting up with you in his arms whenever your stomach grumbled. He knew you were grumpy when you didn’t have any food in you, so he started on breakfast when you got ready in the bathroom. When you offered to switch roles, he said this was optimal since you liked to brush your teeth before breakfast, and he brushed his teeth after. Your heart melted at the memory. Your boyfriend got your breakfast ready for you when you came downstairs. Every single morning, without fail. It was the little things that made you fall in love over and over.

You finished your skincare routine and headed downstairs to find the same scene as every morning: Bucky with a kitchen towel over one shoulder, plating whatever he made for breakfast. Today, he had made a fluffy stack of pancakes and scrambled eggs. He had even gone the extra mile to put spinach and chopped tomatoes in the eggs and had added fresh berries and banana slices on top of the pancakes. The sight of the sticky sweet syrup oozing down the sides of them was enough to make your mouth water.

You snuck up behind him and snaked your arms around his torso. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you punctuated each one with a kiss to his shoulder blades and neck. “Did I tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life?”

“Only about a HUNDRED TIMES A DAY,” he turned around quickly in your arms, grabbing you under the thighs to lift you up. He clasped his arms together, forming a sort of seat in midair. You threw your arms around his shoulders and crashed your lips onto his, melting into him, his pillowy lips warm on yours.

You barely noticed that he had backed into the fridge until you felt the cool metal against your back through Bucky’s thin cotton T-shirt. You continued kissing him voraciously and suddenly remembered Tony scarfing down a Burger King cheeseburger when he had returned from his brief kidnapping in the desert.

You broke away laughing at the mental comparison you made of yourself kissing Bucky to Tony when he was starving after being in the desert.

“Whatcha laughin’ at doll?” Bucky panted, a slight smile creeping onto his lips.

“Oh, nothing,” you panted back. “Just shut up and kiss me.” You were back to business, your lips back on his, feeling like a dog deprived of its bone. Bucky opened the refrigerator door, never once breaking the kiss. You kept your eyes closed, one hand still raking through his soft hair as you used the other to grab the milk carton from the door. You secured it in your hand without faltering, then brought your hand back to rest against his shoulder blade as Bucky shut the door and walked you back over to the counter. Once you safely sat down, you pulled away, gasping for air, desperate as a fish out of water for more of him. His hands were on your hips, his name was on your lips, over and over again like your only prayer.

Bucky grabbed his mug of coffee from where he had left it in the coffee machine and brought it to where you sat, a bright smile adorning his face. You returned the grin and poured a smidge of milk into his cup. When you had first started living together, you were aghast to find that Bucky drank his coffee black without a single drop of milk or spoon of sugar. It had taken some convincing, but you were thrilled when he finally agreed to stop torturing himself and drink his coffee with milk like a normal human being. Although he still used less than a tablespoon of milk and no sugar or creamer, it was a start.

You, on the other hand, were the exact opposite, preferring matcha as your morning drink of choice, which required your mug to be 95% full of milk with the other 5% being, of course, the matcha powder, ice cubes, and copious amounts of honey to satisfy your sweet tooth.

“Oh, I heated up some water and mixed in the matcha powder for you already,” Bucky pointed at the mug beside you, his other hand still warm on your thigh.

“Thank you, bubs,” you leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His cheeks pinked at the suddenness of it, and he ducked his head, shying away from your gaze.

“Aw, it’s nothin’,” he smiled up at you, eyes sparkling beneath his thick lashes. “Here, lemme get you some ice.”

The momentary loss of his hands on your thighs made you whine slightly, but he was back as soon as he left, ice tray in hand.

“Here you are, babycakes.”

You took the tray, beaming at him, then plunked precisely three heart-shaped ice cubes into your cup. You handed the tray back to Bucky, and he left to return it to the freezer before returning to stand between your thighs from where you sat on the countertop. You poured a generous amount of milk into your cup and reached for the honey to drizzle some in. Stirring your drink, you clinked your mug with his before taking your first sip.

You sighed reveling in the mild sweetness of your drink. It was just the way you liked it.

"Alright, doll, let's get some breakfast in you before we run today. We doing intervals or easy?"

"I actually wanted to go for a long run, Buck," you held his gaze from behind your mug.

"Cold plunge after?" he smiled already knowing your answer.

"Yes," you nodded your head vigorously, giddy at the prospect.

౨ৎ

[ask-tfone-megatron]

Decepticons, assembled! Today, I, Megatron, shall address a critical aspect of our conquest: open communication.

I don't wish to begin my regime with shrouded mystery, fostering skepticism. No more! I invite all to query me directly.

Fear not, for your curiosity will be rewarded, not punished. If I find your inquiry to be worthy of an answer I might also entertain you over my past as d-16.

Step forward, Decepticons, and inquire. Together, we'll forge an unstoppable force.

RP rules:

Yes rp is allowed in DM!! But in chat form and mostly in drama style! (I can't write paragraphs in chats)

I am paired with @ask-tfa-optimus so no romance or NSFW is allowed (even in chat as Megatron is a loyal bot)

Self and oc are allowed.

Whatever is in the DM .. will remain in the DM!!

If you wish for literature rp (not my best suit but you have to tag me in that post and if the scene is suitable for "TFO" Megatron to answer, he will)

Except a mixture of tfo and tfp Megatron while rp

(I will add more rules as I see suitable in future and if you wish to chat with the admin you are more than welcome to do so as I won't mind it much)

How Megatron speaks:

Normal

RAISED VOICE

Yelling

*action*

How admin speaks:

(hello)

A little bit about Admin (me):

Mun is an adult.. for technical issues I had to restart my account again (sad I know) but rules are the same.

This is a sfw Blog so minors feel free to interact and ask!!

Muse will not answer any questions regarding politics, hate, abuse and anything negative. Those questions will be deleted without hesitation.

About muse:

Megatron is freshly after the tfo movie so the questions over d-16 are acceptable and welcome!!(Poor megs is sad and hurt)

This Megatron prefers to interact with intake before aiming his canon but do not mistake that as his weakness. He is still learning the curves of becoming a ruthless leader.

But he is soft for his lover and any sparkling in question

Muse and Mun's opinion will not always be aligned (mind it)

He is comfortable with the idea of multiverse as well.

Expect him to sometimes mess around and act more like d-16 and shit posting with other characters!(Whom he considers friends)

That gif is created by @naeella please follow them!

[bonny-kookoo]

Watchu want babe, I'll cook you up a snack

Anything thay you can whip up, I'd be happy :)

You're playing around with the bracelet Jungkook had given you, when Namjoon sits down next to you.

"He's not courted anyone before, you know?" He says, arms crossed as he looks around at Jungkook chasing Seokjin, both in their wolf-forms as they bite at each other in purely playful nature. "Its not like he's a strictly traditional wolf, only ever offering himself to his mate or anything. He's had relationships in the past, and I think that won't surprise you."

You shake your head silently, turning your head to look at the Packleader.

"This-" namjoon nods towards your bracelet, "has ways been his. He's worn it since he became an adult, years back." He explains, and you look down at it.

It seems like it's definitely been word a lot. The string holding the wooden beads together has been fixed with newer parts here and there. The wooden beads themselves have scratches on them, scrapes and clear signs of wear.

Why would he give you something like this?

"He's told me about you. How you met in dream." He continues, and you turn to look at him again. "You know what that means."

"I'm.. but I'm not-" you start, confused. You don't feel ready for something like a chosen mate yet. You don't want to face all the responsibilities and choices you'll have to make. You don't want to leave your pack.

"He's not a monster." Namjoon softly says, finally turning towards you. "He's just as scared as you are- he's just a lot better at hiding it." He chuckles, watching as Jungkook jumps onto Seokjin's back, biting into his neck before he's pushed off again into the dirt. "He's letting instincts lead him, and maybe you should do the same." He offers.

"What if my instincts are wrong?" You mumble. "What if.. he's not the right one after all? Or I'm not the right one?" You argue. "These stupid dreams and all those things have been wrong in the past."

"Because those weren't the right ones." Namjoon chuckles. "That one, right there-" he nods towards the big black wolf currently choking on sand, "-that's the one." He laughs, and you can't help but giggle as well.

"If he would stop that Alpha behavior, maybe I wouldn't be so.. I don't know." You huff, pulling your legs closer to yourself to hug them.

"Well, it's not my place to explain why he's acting like this-" namjoon sighs, standing up. "But I can tell you that he's a lot more than just an alpha. You'll just.. have to be as gentle with him as you want him to be with you." He offers, before he leaves you alone.

And not even half an hour later, a freshly showered Jungkook falls into the seat of the wooden bench next to you, sighing. "Seokjin's getting old." He chuckles, resting his arms on the back of the bench.

"Maybe you're just too much to handle." You scoff, crossing your arms.

"Am I?" He leans in teasingly, brushing some hair away from the side of your face to playfully tug on the jewlery hanging from your earlobe.

"Yes." You respond, trying not to make it show that his touch is actually affecting you. "But I'll get used to it, I guess." You shrug, turning back to watch Seokjin play with the youngest of the pack.

"What did Namjoon and You talk about?" He suddenly asks, and you just turn towards him, smiling.

"You." You bluntly reply, making his eyes widen.

"Me?" He wonders, voice raising in pitch a little.

"Yep." You say. "We made fun of you when you ate dirt." You say, and the tips of his ears turn a bit red as he crosses his arms.

"...did not." He denies. "You saw nothing." He mumbles to himself, and you giggle, instantly catching his attention back.

"I thought it was cute." You shrug, getting up. "If only you always played like that, and not as if you've got something to prove.." You tease, stretching your arms above your head.

"Then what?" He almost growls, before he notices you adjusting the bracelet he gave you.

"Then I'd play with you, too." You chirp, before you run off-

Leaving him behind with a shaking head, laughing to himself.

You're really something else.

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 12, wc: 1k] - shady cemetery cleaning gig : y. jiyoon

AS A HIGHSCHOOLER IN NEED OF CASH, and quick, for whatever reason, you’ve taken to accepting any gigs you can find, and well… let’s just say some of them might be pretty shady as you’d expect. 

that’s how you find yourself at a cemetery, cleaning tombstones and maybe patrolling the area while you’re at it. the job isn’t really the problem, per se, but the shift time is from midnight to five in the morning, and the person who was offering the job just gave you the money (which made your wallet quite a bit heavier) and gave you an address. 

(upon hearing this, jiyoon, your best friend, was extremely concerned and rightfully so. she pauses mid-bite to give you the most confused face you’ve ever seen her make, and lowers her spoon. you stay staring at each other for a moment, and then she sighs and turns in her seat to face you, deadpanning, “you’ve gone mad, haven’t you?”

“what? no,” you drag out the ‘o’, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

jiyoon narrows her eyes at you. a bead of sweat drips down your temple; her death stare never fails to intimidate you. and so, you concede. somewhat. “okay, well, maybe a bit—but blackpink is touring soon! and i wanna get tickets for both of us…”

because of your reasoning, her gaze softens and your shoulders can finally untense. she takes the bite she didn’t get to eat earlier, and neatly arranges her silverware on the plate it came with from the café. “you’re not gonna make me go like always, are you..?”

“um…”

she politely smiles at you, leaving her share of the bill on the table and standing up. “kim y/n. i am not showing up to a shady cemetery gig you picked up.”)

true to her word, jiyoon unfortunately does not show up at the appointed time, and so you have to do this alone. at midnight. till five am. what a great life you’re living, right? walking around, alone, there’s something strange—all the tombstones are freshly cleaned. like, spotless; you see your own reflection in them when you point your 500 watt flashlight at them.

which is weird, because weren’t you hired to do just that? you even brought a bucket of water and cloths and new sponges, and cleaner fluid you bought specifically for this job. did your employer just randomly want to pay a burgeoning adult almost five hundred bucks for no reason? 

suddenly you’re aware of all of your surroundings. crickets chirp, and your only source of light is your flashlight and a single lamp post some feet away. you sense a presence lurking behind you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. ‘there shouldn’t be anyone here besides me, there shouldn’t be, oh shit. oh fuck, y/n, on a count of three you run back home as fast as you can. one…’

you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and you don’t even turn around to see who or what it is because what the actual fuck, before you scream as loud as you can and alarm the figure who covers your mouth with their hand. you’re forcefully turned around, and—

“ji’hyoon!?” you attempt to exclaim, though your voice is muffled by her hand. she glares and shushes you, taking the hood off of her head.

“shut up, idiot, you’re disturbing the peace!” jiyoon scolds, furrowing her eyebrows at you. “and before you ask, yes i came to check up on you. no, it’s not because i missed you.”

aw, that’s sweet of her. but how did she- “i found this place because you literally texted me the details asking me to come,” she sighs, “it’s way too sketchy; i couldn’t let you go alone.”

you grin lopsidedly, “you’re a softie deep down, aren’t you, yoon jiyoon?”

she doesn’t answer and instead looks around, spotting the bucket of water and unused sponges by your feet. “aren’t you supposed to be working?”

oh, right. there isn’t really much to work on, though. you tell your best friend that, and she frowns in confusion, “wasn’t that your job, though?”

“what i’m saying, girl, why did that rich guy pay me so much if the job was already done?” you place your hands on your hips.

a rustling sound resounds through the air, making the both of you flinch aggressively. your eyes blink rapidly, countless thoughts of panic flooding your mind, “did you hear that?”

jiyoon is just as scared shitless as you, her hand shaking as she grabs yours and clenches the hold as hard as she can. 

a weak voice calls out from the direction of the graves, “help… help me…” 

without thinking, you make a run for it and drag your best friend with you, with only the intent to get as far away as you can. ‘screw the job, i want to live!’

“y/n!” jiyoon yelps in the midst of running, “if we die just know that i’ve loved you since middle school!”

the wild dash comes to a stop, and you have to keel over so you can heave your saving breaths. when you come to, you turn to jiyoon who’s in the same state, “you what!? you love me?” 

the girl’s mouth is agape, processing the words she rashly spat out in fear for her life. she shyly directs her gaze the other way, and mumbles something incoherent that you can’t catch. 

you manage to form a smile on your lips, trying to get her attention by snapping your fingers. except you can’t snap… so you have to clear your throat. “sorry, jiyoon. couldn’t quite hear you there.”

“i said yes! ugh…” she snaps, voice slightly raised a few octaves higher because of her bashfulness. the light of a lamp posts allows you to clearly see the red hot blush that has engulfed her cheeks.

“i’m glad that our life-or-death situation got you to finally confess, idiot,” you reach over to pull her into a playful, crushing hug. “i love you too.”

jiyoon melts into the embrace, sighing in relief from both the news of your reciprocation and the escape from the creepy cemetery. “those blackpink tickets better be worth it.”

“of course they will, i’m gonna get us front-row tickets—you know how good my reflexes are,” you quip, ruffling her hair.

the girl in your arms smiles, “then i trust you, kim y/n.”

“aww, so you are a softie deep down- ah, ahahaha! wait, wait, stop! i surrender, stop tickling me!”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : this was the most fun to write ilysm yoon jiyoonjiyoonjiyoonjiyoon

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 52: A SOLUTION

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Miscarriage

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

The following morning, you woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon wafting through the house.

Cillian had gone for his morning run, leaving your mother alone in the kitchen, humming softly to herself while she prepared breakfast.

Her voice carried through the open door, reminding you of simpler times.

You shuffled downstairs, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

"Morning, sleepyhead," your mother greeted you cheerfully, her eyes lighting up when she saw you.

"Smells amazing," you said, leaning against the counter and watching her work. "I don't usually eat much for breakfast," you admitted though, "but I think I might make an exception today," you laughed, your mouth watering at the sight of golden, crispy bacon.

"I made enough for three," your mother remarked, sliding a steaming plate of eggs, ham, and sausages onto the table. 

"Cillian should be back soon from his run," your mother noted, her brow furrowing slightly. "It is good to see that he keeps fit at his age you know," she added, pausing to sip her tea. "I met a lot of other older men that don't take care of themselves and that's not good," she mused, her eyes straying towards the window.

"He isn't that old mum," you chuckled, sitting down across from her and taking a bite of your sausage.

"Oh no darling, I didn't mean it that way. I am just saying that it is good to keep fit at his age - or at any age really," your mother corrected herself quickly, noticing the sudden change in your expression. "If he keeps fit, it will be easier for him to chase after your little chicos and chicas when the time comes, you know," she joked, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Speaking of which," your mother added, lowering her voice, "Are there any in the making?" she wanted to know, desperate to have some grandchildren in her life  now that her family was reunited.

"Well," you hesitated, your fork hovering precariously above your plate. "No," you sighed before turning quiet for a moment, thinking about your recent miscarriage. 

You felt the weight of your loss return as a lump formed in your throat. You thought about telling your mother about it, but the words wouldn't come out. 

"Maybe one day," you murmured noncommittally, averting your gaze from your mother's probing gaze as, finally, Cillian barged through the door, sweating slightly from exhaustion.

"Maybe one day?" Cillian repeated, only having caught the tail-end of the conversation.

"I just asked my daughter if and when you were planning to have children," your mother answered with a playful wink, openly teasing you both in a way that a mother does to her adult children, not knowing about your pain and heartache.

Cillian, however, could not hide his surprise as, suddenly, the mood changed and even your mother picked up on the cues.

Although she did not know about the miscarriages, she realized that something was amiss, clouding her own previous excitement.

"Did I say something wrong my dear?" your mother asked you gently as she reached for your hand across the table. "You look upset all of a sudden," she noted, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "No, it's just...it's a long story," you said, pulling your hand away from hers and wiping your eyes.

Cillian walked over to you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We recently lost our baby," he began without finishing his sentence. "I mean, Y/N had a miscarriage. She wasn't that far along but we were both pretty excited," he told your mother softly, regret and sadness etched on his face.

Your mother's expression changed upon hearing Cillian's words, registering immediate concern and sympathy. "Oh my sweet child! I am so sorry," she exclaimed, getting up from her seat and moving to hug you tightly. "But, you are still young and you can try again," she offered, trying to remain hopeful despite your sadness but, as she spoke, tears welled up in both your eyes, falling like gentle rain onto your hands.

"No we can't," you replied, managing a weak half-smile, even as the tears continued to stream down your face, and a heaviness settled in your heart.

"Why ever not?" your mum questioned, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, her curious gaze switching to Cillian's who remained silent while comforting you. 

"It had already happened before, mum. We lost another baby a while back. I had to have an operation then and was told that I probably cannot have a child of my own," you confided in your mother, your voice trembling as you spoke, both of you acutely aware that you had yet to fully process your pain and heartache.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," your mother whispered, drawing you close to her once more as you began to sob uncontrollably, overcome by a surge of emotions you did not even realize you had been suppressing.

"It's okay, it's okay, my love," she murmured, stroking your hair gently as she rocked you back and forth.

Cillian stepped forward, one hand still on your shoulder as he offered the box of tissues from the table to your mother. "Thank you," she mouthed silently, taking a couple of tissues and dabbing at your eyes delicately.

As the initial wave of sorrow began to subside, you pulled back slightly, looking first at your mother and then at Cillian, who was still standing by your side.

"We might find a way," Cillian muttered, gazing down at you. "A surrogate, adoption, I don't know, but we are going to be parents together if this is what you want," he vowed, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly.

"Yes, darling. There are many ways to become a parent," your mother promised, her expression full of determination. "But let's not talk about it now," she urged, sensing that this conversation had become too much for you both.

"Let's have a nice breakfast and then we can go out for a walk," she suggested instead, taking a steadying breath.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, lighter, as a sense of calm embraced you all.

You welcomed your mother's gesture with a small nod, tucking into your breakfast as Cillian took a seat quietly beside you.

The rest of the meal passed without further conversation, but the silence was companionship, and not awkwardness.

Your mother's touch had a calming effect on you, and, as you finished your food, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's unwavering support and love. You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as your shoulders slumped, easing the tension that had built up over the night and into the morning.

After breakfast, the three of you took a leisurely stroll down the beach, enjoying the sunshine that bathed the shore with light and warmth. You stayed close to Cillian, his presence soothing as his fingers laced through yours.

Your thumb traced circles on the back of his hand, a silent acknowledgment of his comfort. 

Your mother walked beside you, the three of you in a line with the vast expanse of the ocean. She observed how much you seemingly loved one another and how committed you both were, which granted her a certain degree of pleasure.

Knowing that you were safe, loved and happy made her happy.

Your mother had waited for years to watch her daughter grow up, to meet the right person, and to flourish under their love.

Throughout the walk, she sometimes fell behind, pretending to tie her shoelaces or to search for an interesting pebble, all while observing you both and the deep intimacy you shared.

You didn't have to be overly affectionate for her to understand.

It was the way you two walked together, side by side, with your fingers still laced together, how your bodies naturally gravitated towards each other's presence.

At one point, your hand moved away to adjust your cardigan and your mother watched as, even without words, Cillian wordlessly reached for your hand again when you were done, lifting it up to kiss it gently.

You smiled in response, your eyes locked onto his before switching to the horizon beyond.

The breeze of the morning carried with it a serene coolness, catapulting sprays of water into the air where the waves crashed on the rocks nearby. A flock of birds burst into flight, the tide retreating as the sun shone all the more radiantly in a cornflower blue sky reflecting its warm glow onto the endless, sandy beach ahead of you.

You looked back, seeing your mother contentedly watching the two of you, silently drawing assurance from the evident love between you and Cillian. She smiled gently, and you returned her smile with a grateful one.

Тhe rest of the day passed in a haze of bliss familiarity, and comfort before, for dinner, your mother decided to prepare a traditional South American meal for you all. 

The scent of paprika, cumin, and garlic wafted from the kitchen, opening a portal in time for you, transporting you back to a childhood, the time before you were taken from her. 

"You know, I was thinking that, maybe I have a solution," your mother announced, breaking the silence of your collective reverie, refocusing your attention, as you handed her an avocado and a bottle of red wine.

"What do you mean mum?" you asked curiously, wondering where she was going with this.

"I meant that, if you want to be parents together then I may have a solution for that," she replied with a meaningful smile, as she began to slice the avocado skilfully. 

"Mum, I thought we are not going to talk about this now," you reminded her softly, trying to steer the conversation away from this painful topic. But Cillian, keen on hearing what she had to say, encouraged her to continue.

"Please, Y/N, let her finish," he said gently, holding your hand as your mother turned towards Cillian and nodded appreciatively.

"Well, as I was saying, I've been thinking and, I know that this might sound a little controversial, but you could adopt an infant from where you are from, for money. It isn't cheap, but it would help support someone in need and you would get a beautiful child," she explained, her voice echoing the determination that she had shown earlier.

Cillian and you exchanged a glance, shocked at her proposition yet also intrigued. Adopting a child was something that had always been a possibility, but adopting a child from South America where adoption was not regulated seemed risky and overwhelming to say the least.

"Mum, that's a really kind offer," you said thoughtfully, weighing your options. "But are you sure it's legal? And how would we get the baby out of the country? I don't think it's as simple as just buying a baby and then taking it on a plane back home," you explained, expressing your concerns openly, trying to stay grounded and clear-headed in the moment.

"There are agencies who deal with everything and since abortion is still illegal back home there are, unfortunately, so many children who need loving families," your mother persisted, channeling her inner authority as she held your gaze. "And if you can provide a loving and safe home for a child, then it would be a worthy cause, don't you think?"

You looked to Cillian, expecting him to share your reluctance, but instead found him nodding thoughtfully.

"It's not a bad idea, actually," he said, surprising you. "I know a few people in the industry who have adopted children from overseas before, and they had good experiences with it," Cillian told you, wanting you to consider your mother's proposal. 

"I don't know, Cillian. It sounds like a slippery slope. I mean, how can you be sure that the money is going to the right place and not just lining some corrupt official's pockets?" you asked, furrowing your brow.

"And what about the mother? I mean, I was given away as a young child, against my mother's will," you pointed out, recalling the tragic turn of events that had separated you from your mother so long ago. "What is if the mother of our child would be forced to give up her baby because of money?" you pondered, a pained expression crossing your face. "I couldn't live with myself if I did that to someone."

"Well, I also have a solution for that," your mother interrupted softly, as she stopped slicing the avocado, setting it aside as she turned to you both, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"What if you adopt a baby who was given up willingly by someone I know? Someone who wants to put her child up for adoption?" your mother continued, maintaining eye contact as Cillian and you stared at her, wide-eyed. "I know a woman who is expecting her fifth child and she had been saving money for an illegal abortion. Perhaps she would change her mind if she knows that there's a loving couple who would adopt her baby," your mother explained delicately, her voice calm, and measured, yet tinged with a hint of hope.

The idea caught you off guard, and you exchanged a glance with Cillian, who seemed to be just as surprised.

"I don't know, mum. We need to think about this," you finally managed to say, your voice trailing off as you glanced towards Cillian for support.

Cillian looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. It was a lot to digest this unexpected proposition and Cillian knew not to push you. 

Following your lead, he held your hand reassuringly. He felt the slight tremble in your fingertips as you both contemplated this new path while your mother finished cooking. It was something you knew you should consider but, at the same time, it was information too heavy to fully grasp while your guard was down.

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[avocado-writing]

What if after the dance scene Wyll wasn’t as much of a ~gentleman~ and put his Disney prince persona aside for one night???

pairing: wyll x reader

rating: E

words: 1.3k

Pt1

You are lovely.

Ever since you convinced him to come to this party he hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you. You were as good as your word about your performance, hopping up on a crate repurposed as a stage and pouring your heart into your lute - all the time throwing him glances and winks. It made him hot under the collar, and not for the first time Wyll is glad that his new demonic features make it more difficult to detect a blush.

You danced with him as much as the other partygoers would let you. Harmless little ballroom-adjacent two-steps to start with, getting more joyous as the night went on; you made him help you teach the children how to dance a weave and he thrilled every time your hands brushed together. By the end of the night your arms were looped around his neck, face sleepily tucked into his shoulder as you moved together to the memory of music.

He is so glad he didn’t spend the night alone by the river.

But gods, he is suffering.

Eventually he manages to pull himself away from you under the guise that he’s going to retire for the evening. This seems plausible enough: it is late after all and most people have settled down, nodding-off children carried in the arms of adults for one more night of safe slumber before a long journey to Baldur’s Gate. The party seems to be over.

That is not the reason he hides.

Wyll has been spending the last half an hour desperately trying to hide the fact he’s hard from you. At half-mast at least, and the feeling of you up against him… gods, of your body pressed to his…

He knows it would be improper to do what he longs to do: drag you to his bedroll and spend all night worshipping you with his tongue, his hands, his cock. There is a decent way to do these things and he has too much respect for you to ask for it otherwise. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s aching in his trousers, though, so he bids you goodnight, ignores the bittersweet look in your eye as he heads off, and practically legs it to his tent.

The second the fabric of the door comes down behind him, he unlaces his fly and slips out, taking himself in his hand and trying not to groan.

He can still smell you on him. Whatever scent you wear is rich and sweet, like freshly spiced apple cider. He can feel the ghost of your touch on his skin, not shying away like he was worried you would after Mizora wrecked him, but leaning into him with love.

He begins to move his hand up and down his cock, using the other to clamp over his mouth. Despite everything he still wishes that it was your fingers doing this, not his own, and he begins to rut properly into his own palm, gods, yes, just a little sigh of your name and…

“Wyll I wanted to ask– oh.”

His head snaps around. There you are, door falling closed as you’ve entered his tent, eyes on where he’s fisting himself. Ears pricked to the moan he just let out.

His mouth goes slack. Fire floods his face.

“Gods, I am so, so sorry, I never meant for you to…”

But you don’t look disgusted. In fact, he can see the way a smile is pulling at the corners of your mouth, the way you’re approaching him, closing the small distance and then oh god there is your hand over his.

“Can I help? Please?” you ask, wide eyed and sincere. It is a punch to the gut, stealing his breath, stealing his breath, and Wyll cannot form words to properly answer.

You should not do this. They are worth waiting for, doing this properly, his head reasons.

But his soul cries out for you, so he nods. Maybe it is not so bad to give into temptation.

Your lips capture his in a searing kiss and suddenly it is your hand on his cock, not his, and gods it is wonderful. You stroke him languidly, fingers curious to explore the ridges his body has gained since Mizora’s curse. He feels you smile as your tongue meets his.

“Oh, Blade of Frontiers,” you whisper, “this is a mighty fine weapon…”

He laughs, and it breaks some of the tension, encouraging him to kiss you more fiercely. He lets himself rut a little into your hand. You are good, so so good, and he wants you like he’s never wanted anything before. He needs you more than he needs air, and oh gods when you reach up to stroke one of his horns –

Wyll gasps at the shock of pleasure which lightnings through him. You pull back, eyes wide in the fear that you might have done something wrong.

“Those are… sensitive,” he manages through gritted teeth. You get a devilish look on your face.

“What a wonderful revelation,” you sigh, and then the two of you are no longer standing, you’re lying on his bedroll together. Clothes come off in a desperate scramble of hands from two people who have been wanting this since they met, and have no reason not to indulge each other. Wyll flips you onto your back and you let out a little yelp of enthusiasm, arching your body up into his touch as he slide his cock along the fold of your thigh and hip. His leg meets your sex and you groan at it, the friction mutually delicious.

“Tell me you want this. If you desire me to stop, I will. I will wait for as long as you want me to,” he says between kisses. You wrap your arms around his neck and meet his eyes, sincere even when blown wide with lust.

“I want this. I want you,” you whisper, and his cock finds your entrance and slides in. You throw your head back in rapture as he begins to cant his hips, sliding in a little more each time until he he fully sheathed. The hot clench of you is delicious, it is heaven, and Wyll has to put all of his effort into making things slow and sweet like you deserve rather than losing himself in you. 

Your hands are everywhere. His back, his face, oh gods his horns, hanging onto him in desperation as he begins to fuck you in earnest. The thick head of his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, the ridges given to him popping in and out of your hole with every thrust and driving you wild. This form might have been put upon him as a punishment but the two of you are enyoing every second of it here.

When your legs wrap around his waist, ankles crossed to drive him in deeper, he knows he is not long. You have devoured him, his soul and body, he is dedicated to you - he has never felt this way about someone before. As his hand reaches between your bodies to stroke you he pictures what he wants to give you: a lovely house, a happy marriage, as many children as the two of you can handle –

He spills inside you as your hole flutters around him, and you come all over his thighs. He silnces your orgasm with another kiss, and as the two of you return to the world he holds you tightly in his arms.

“Was that alright?” is all he can think to ask, and you laugh. Half because that is a silly question, he is still inside you right now, and half because you’ve been wanting this with your whole being since you first met him.

“More than alright. I’d have you, Wyll, in every way I can, forever. If you let me.”

His grin is felt against your mouth in his kiss.

“I do.”

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @somethingblu3

[bouncy-dog-funeral]

I’m seriously considering rewriting teen wolf but I lack any writing skills

TW and CW before you read this long long long post: mentions alcoholism, child neglect and abuse, past SA, past grooming,and talk of chronic illness.

And my biggest warning!! I am a queer disabled person and I make some (a lot) of these charecters queer, disabled, plus sized,and or poc. If you don’t like that then leave. Unlike the original show, I want minority’s to not only be in the series but to have actual story’s and stay in the story’s. Not be written out. I am the woke mob that conservatives warned you about and I’m turning all your faves into minority’s

And finally before we get into this..

This is a total rewrite so befor anyone gets on me for not being remotely accurate or “WhY doNt YoU wRiTe YOuR OwN StoRY” uhhhhhhh don’t feel like it and I like these charecters soooooo 🤷 this post is long as hell so get a snack

Imagine this for me if you will

*I start rubbing my glass orb as the camra starts zooming in to my vision*

So our story is located at beacon hills local collage…

I HATE that teen wolf is set in high school! This could be b/c I’m in collage and want these charecters to be more relatable to me BUT I also think you can just do more with them if they are in college. In the teen wolf series, the writers and directors sexulize these HIGH SCOOLERS. IK that through out the show they go back and forth on ages and birthdays but we do get the information that in season 1 Allison turns 17 and is embarrassed about it b/c she’s been held back and is therefore older then everyone els. That would put the rest of the highscoolers at 15/16 at best. The fact that you are doing shirtless thirst shots to charecters who are underage??? Weirdo behavior in my opinion. I get that high schoolers can be sexually active, make sex jokes, and arnt innocent (I was a highscooler not long ago. I am freshly 20) but having a bunch of adults seriously thirst trapping a 16 year old…. Not something I care for. IK Tyler was 20 when they filmed season 1 so they weren’t technically doing anything wrong but idc. I’m not being a prude or anything. I understand that it was to appeal to the teenage audience. Obviously teens are gunna find other teens attractive BUT you could have just made them incoming collage freshman so that they are all at least 18. Also that makes all the death defying trips they go on a little more reasonable. IK jjk has highscoolers dying and fighting left and right but I think that show also is very aware of there teen age charecters and that’s what makes jjk a tragedy. It’s supposed to be sad that these kids are being put to war. Teen wolf was supposed to be a supernatural thriller drama seemingly more focused on drama while sprinkling in some violence for fun. (They also never go as on the ptsd this would cause but in my rewrite ptsd will be discussed) AGIN befor I get hate. Yes, you can write about kids and teens going through traumatic life or death situations as they do happen in real life and there are fantastic fiction and non fiction story’s like that (it is a great example of traumatized children) but I just think it would be better if it was set in college. I know it’s called teen wolf so a name change would probably be needed but semantics.

Beacon hills collage is a local collage that is relatively easier to get into as it’s not very popular and is not in a prime location and is kinda limited on what can be studied. I like the idea of beacon hills being a smaller town as it adds to the ambiance and smaller towns are well known for myths and the idea of the supernatural. I also think it would add to some charecters feelings of being outsiders b/c of their supernatural powers as they have to kinda hide who they really are in fear of losing social standing in there local communities and non supernatural family.

The charecters and why they are there…

So here’s where I’m really gunna throw you for a loop. This version of teen wolf has stiles stilinski as its main charecter. IK, huge suprise from the stiles kinnie but hear me out!! I think the story would be compelling if we were seeing the supernatural world through a humans eyes. Also stiles is not the only character that gets focused on, it’s just this time it’s through stiles eyes

Stiles is a smart guy. I mean like ivy level smart but when we start the story, he’s moving into his shitty shared dorm with Scott at a school that almost anyone can get into. Everyone in stiles life (which is Scott, his dad, and ms.Mccall) are really confused as to why stiles didn’t apply and go to a “smart people school” and get the hell out of beacon hills. For stiles that more obvious. Stiles lost his mom young to frontotemporal dementia. Through his elementary school years his dad and him were her care takers (along with Mellisa who they made friends with when moved to be on hills but she’s a nurse so she didn’t have a lot of time and she also had to raise Scott) as all her relitives live in Poland. (I think she would have been in America on a student visa for school and some how Noah and Claudia get together and moved to beacon hills to have stiles) stiles didn’t really understand what was going on but still tried to help his mom but things obviously got worse and as they got worse Claudia started suffering from the symptoms. She was more agitated and yelled at stiles saying things that truly did damage to stiles and his dad. She would try and sneak out of the house, would make inappropriate comments, have huge outbursts, and mild delusions. This would have been especially hard as this was the complete opposite of the sweet, adventurous, loving mother, wife, and friend. When she did die Noah turned to the bottle and for awhile just wasn’t a very good father to stiles. Noah never hit stiles but he was just neglectful. When he wasn’t at work, he was drinking and that just hurt stiles more. He would look for praise and love from his dad but his dad just wasn’t there. Some nights stiles would stay over at Scott’s house as melisa understood what was going on at the time. The sheriff (after a very firm and angry talking to from Melisa) sobers up tho it’s hard cuz he wants to be there for stiles. He lost his wife and he can’t lose his son. With a lot of hard work and help from his son and the community, he becomes a great loving dad. He’s not perfect but he try’s. A couple years later when stiles is in high school he gets a call saying his dad got shot in the leg (he’s still the sheriff so the job can lead to problems) . Stiles is obviously freaking out unlike his dad and stiles kinda pushes school to take care of his dad. His dad makes sure he’s still doing good in school but stiles really just wants to take care of his dad. The sheriff eventually recovers but he still has to use a cane (much to the sheriffs dismay) and stiles starts making him eat healthier and makes him go to his physical therapy appointments. He takes care of him. All of his dreams about collage are more in the back of his mind as he wasn’t to be there for his dad cuz he can’t lose his dad. When collage application time comes around, Noah forces stiles to apply to a collage (“any colloge will do stiles! You’re not giving up your education and futer to take care of me!”) and stiles being the sneaky stubborn little shit he is apply for the one closest to home. It’s not the best collage but it’s near his dad and hey! Scotts going there!

(Also forgot to mention but stiles is white more specifically half polish on his moms side AND HE HAS ADHD. It’s not a joke or something that can be debated. In my series stiles has adhd and it affects his life)

Speaking of Scott (BOOOO)

Scott is one of my least fav teen wolf character but he is important to the story and when I write him, he’s cool. So Scott is stiles bestie! He is mixed Latino (moms side) and white (dads side) He’s a little bit of a himbo. He means well and is very loving. He was raised by his lovely single mother as his dad is out of the picture. He wasn’t fantastic at school and stiles helped him study. Now while he was not the best at school (mostly math and English. Personal head canon Scott hates English class cuz he doesn’t really care about the touchy feely stuff that comes with it. Although he’s supper sweet and caring, he just prefers to be presented with facts) he was fantastic at lacrosse! Him and stiles were on the team in high school (stiles dropped it to spend more time helping Noah after he got shot which he was sad about but family comes first for stiles) Scott didn’t really care where he went school wise and when he herd stiles was going to be on hill college, he wanted to go to and he just so happened to get a sports scholarship do hey! Why not go. He wants to be a vet and is a huge fan of dogs. Scott gets bit (not sure by who. Idk if I want to keep the Peter story line) and becomes a werewolf in collage where our next charecter comes in.

(I have more to say about Scott but that goes into story and not why he’s at beacon hills collage

*sniff sniff* is that a weird loner I hear??

That’s right boys (and lady’s and gender non conforming people) it’s DEREK HALE TIME!!! Derek is Chinese (moms side) and Latino (dads side) and a born werewolf! His mom was also a born werewolf while his dad was human. Derek much like in the original series shows up in the first couple chapters (I’m thinking of this like a comic/webtoon instead of a tv series) to help Scott control his wolf. He does not go to beacon hill collage, I want to make that clear. He’s seemingly only there to help Scott cuz he herd through the wolfy grape vine that a wild werewolf bit Scott. He lives mildly close to the collage (as do a lot of the town. It’s about 30 mins away from Melissa and Noah) and while he seems mean and like he doesn’t care about Scott and stiles except for the fact that they are now an annoying problem that he has to deal with, he genuinely wants to help and have Scott acclimate to becoming a wolf. Derek is autistic and struggles to express how he feels and gets supper frustrated easily. This explains his behavior (being aggressive, not understanding that stiles is joking most of the time, wearing that gd leather jacket every day) but does not excuse it. That boy needs therapy. The reason he is living in beacon hills still is 1st b/c it’s familiar and 2nd and more importantly b/c his family all died there and he doesn’t want to leave them until they get justice. Yep that’s right folks, hale house fire happened and you wouldn’t belive who caused it. That’s right Kate argent is back (BOOOOOO IM RUNNING HER OVER WITH MY CAR) Kate argent burned the house down and I actually want to go over how she did it. She groomed 15 year old Derek when she was 25. I’m keeping that plot line BUT I want my version to actually talk about how fucked up that is. Derek suffers major ptsd from Kate and everything she did. She took advantage of a child and although she’s portrayed as evil in the show, they kinda just gloss over it and they make it seem like Derek was never affected by it. That all changes here. Grooming genuinely leaves a lasting affect and I think that not only does his autism make it hard to connect with people but his trauma with Kate makes it that much harder to be in relationships. That’s not to say he never forms another relationship, there just kinda flings. He mostly argues with stiles as to what should happen with Scott and how to help him. They both think they know what’s best and if they just came together they would work a lot better. I think this could truly lead into a enemy’s to lovers slow burn with Derek and stiles slowly starting to trust etchother (I’m a operative slowly pushing my sterek agenda)

Holy shit is that Lydia Martin??????

Now I would like to apologize as I don’t have a lot for Lydia as I’m still trying to figure out her story. What I do know is that she’s white (both parents) and she’s a supper smarty. Why would she stay at becon hills collage. I’d like to maybe take it in the direction that she stayed for Jackson (also booo) Jackson and Lydia both went to becon hill high with stiles and Scott. Jackson was going on a sports scholarship and I think that Lydia’s parents kinda force these gender roles on her that she needs to follow him and take care of him. She struggled with her identity in the show and I want that to continue into my series. I belive she’s trans and she still wants to be seen as a “normal” woman so she pushes her dreams only mildly behind (she’s still a bad ass and is still set on her dreams but family pressure and societal pressure goes crazy) in later chapters I think her and Jackson break up and with encouragement from the pack and maybe Jackson himself (I kinda want him in the pack but more redeemable. Maybe idk) she apply for ivy league scools and gets in and comes back intermediary to rejoin the pack on hijinxs. I also want her to overcome her identity and how she needs to present to be accepted. This is not saying she dresses less girly. She’s still the girliest girl. This is more to say that she doesn’t need to pretend to be a damsel to be a valid woman.

Now this is cool and all but what about the rest of the pack???

Great question. I have only really fleshed out the first couple of chapters. I haven’t really even thought about the relationships (romantic ones) or the rest of the plot (I need to bounce ideas back and forth and unfortunately the person I bounce those ideas off of is writing her own book and is very busy) so while I can’t give huge reasons why all the pack is there I can give mini facts and what not!

Erica is originally from Arizona! She came to beacon hills collage (btw I just found out I’ve been spelling beacon wrong… I’m dyslexic and too lazy to change it so sue me) cuz it was quiet and befor she was bitten, she was shy and preferred the quiet

Erica still enjoys the quiet as she was epileptic befor the bite and although she’s cured b/c of the bite, she still fears that she will have a attack if she’s not carful

Boyd and Erica start dating a little bit after both being bitten. They didn’t know etchother until after the bite and found out they share a lot in common!

Boyd was set to go to the military just like his father but got disqualified for having diabetes that required medication. He came to beacon hills collage to get away from his disappointed father

Boyd is the only one as of now that holds a job while at college. He works as a line cook at a local dinner

Erica after the bite starts working at the same dinner as a server

Issac is the youngest member of the group as he is 17 when they (everyone els except Derek and Allison) are 18. Yes you can be 17 in collage.

Issac has extreme ptsd from the start of the series at the hands of his dad

Issac is at beacon hill university b/c his dad forced him to go as that is where he went and he wants Issac to follow in his footsteps

Issac has mild beef with stiles as Scott saved Issac from being beat up by a group of guys and he now wants to be besties with Scott but Scott’s befriend is stiles and neither stiles and Issac are very good at sharing

Issac is Derek’s kid with out the legal binding. Derek first met Issac when the big bad of the week kidnapped him to get to Scott. Stiles and co obviously go and save him and Derek is the one who gets him out of the binding and comforts him while Scott and stiles are beating some freaks.

Derek is the one to give Issac the bite

Issac stays with Derek over the summer so he doesn’t have to go back to his dad

Jackson was a bully to stiles through out high school but starts to get better after some trauma bonding

Stiles does not easily forgive Jackson for his lowkey ability bullying of him in high school and cuz he still has a crush on Lydia but they arnt enemy’s

Jackson was adopted as a newborn by his two moms

Danny is also attending beacon hills on a sports scholarship but he is from Hawaii so he didn’t really know any one coming in but he is friends with Jackson and Scott as they are on the lacrosse team team together

Allison is the oldest of the collage students being 19

Allison was held back a year after moving around too much

Also I wanted to write Jackson as straight cuz I hate the narrative that you have to be bi or pan to date trans people and I wanted Jackson to be a dick but like not homophobic or transphobic but I later found out that Jackson being queer is canon and I did not want to write that out. But yeah, Jackson Whittemore says trans rights

That’s cool and all evens but can you make a more brief summery of all the characters?

Yes I can dear viewer!!

Stiles “Mieczyslaw” stilinski

18

He/him

Half polish

Bisexual

Trans (ftm)

Smart, sarcastic, jester

Has adhd

Human

Scott McCall

18

He/him

Mixed Latino American

Cis

Straight

Himbo

Nice, empathetic, gullible

Plays lacrosse

Turned wolf

Derek hale

20

He/him (he’s also fine with they/them but he doesn’t use them for himself )

Mixed Chinese Latino

Cis

Bi/pan (wolfs don’t care about labels)

Demisexual

Born wolf

Quiet, reserved, cautious

Autistic

Care taker of Issac

Lydia Martin

18

She/her

White

Trans (mtf)

Straight

Smart, head strong, bold

Dating Jackson

Human???? (Idk yet)

Erica Reyes

18

She/her

White

Cis

Bisexual

Sarcastic, sometimes shy, pop culture nerd

Turned wolf

Vernon Boyd

18

He/him

Black

Cis

Straight

Quiet, collected, serious

Has diabetes

Turned wolf

Issac lahey

17

He/they

White

Cis

Unlabeled sexuality wise

Loyal, hyper vigilant, nervous

Has ptsd from dad

Has generalized anxiety disorder

Turned wolf

Jackson Whittemore

18

He/him

White

Cis

Bi

Abrasive, stubborn, put together

Kanima

Was adopted by his two moms

Danny

18

He/him

Hawaiian

Gay

Cis

Smart, sporty, friendly

Human

Ok but what’s the story??

All right, let’s get into the meat and potato’s (speaking of which, I’ve been craving mashed potato’s like really bad)

So the story starts with stiles and Scott unloading the jeep of all there stuff for collage while the sheriff watches. He wants to be there to see his son off and Mellisa couldn’t come to see Scott off cuz of work so he’s also there for Scott. Just general banter of “you sure you don’t need my help boys? “No old man we got it, stop worrying” “hey don’t talk to your dad like that!” Just a lot of that. After unpacking it becomes night and Scott heads off to bed while stiles stays at his desk just dreading school starting. He’s worrying about his dad, hating that he didn’t just go to an ivy, just genral dread. On top of that, he’s always been a social outcast. Having adhd, being trans, and being Jackson’s number 1 opp tends to do that to you. Cut to school starting, his first day does not go well. No one talks to him, jackson seems to be thriving in the party crowd so now he doesn’t feel comfortable attending futer party’s, and he just misses his old life. Sure he was a loser but he was a loser with his dad and Scott and ms.McCall around. It’s just rough so when he gets back to dorm, he wants to curl up and sob but Scott suggest they go play lacrosse so Scott can practice cuz he’s on the lacrosse team.

“Come on stiles! It’ll be like old times!! I need help practicing blocking!”

He agrees but he wants to get dinner first (stiles as a little over the recommended hours for class taking and chose later classes so he could sleep in so he gets out later then Scott) by the time they get to the field, it’s dark so there’s no one around really. They are playing around and stiles is feeling a little better when Scott accidentally hits the ball out into the forest that just so happens to be right next to the practice field.

“Oh I’ll go get it!”

“Idk Scotty, it’s kinda dark out there”

“Nothings gunna happen dude! We live in California. What’s gunna get me?”

Scott run out into the woods to grab the ball. Stiles waits kinda anxiously for scott when he suddenly hears Scott scream. Without a second thought stiles runs into the woods too look for Scott. He sees him laying on the ground, lower half of his torso covered in blood with a rip in his shirt. Stiles obviously helps Scott up and calls an ambulance (“don’t call an ambulance stiles… there so expensive.” “Well I don’t think that matters rn cuz YOUR BLEEDING OUT OF YOUR STOMACH!”) the hospital patches him up and makes sure he doesn’t have rabies and alerts the school that there is a wild animal near the woods on campus and to watch out. They send everyone home. The next day stiles leaves Scott to recover while he’s in class. He forgot to charge his phone so it’s dead all day. When stiles comes back to the dorm he finds a freaked out Scott.

“DUDE WHY DIDN’T YOU ANSER YOUR PHONE!”

“IT WAS DEAD? WHY WHAT HAPPENED?”

Scott lifts up his shirt

“All right dude no need to- wait. Where’s the bite mark?”

“THATS WHAT IM SAYING DUDE!”

Proceed to many days of digging and Scott experiencing werewolf like symptoms. Stiles is so hyper focused researching that other than school, he is doing nothing but research. Stiles then figures it out but it’s a little out there. He finds Scott in the library in a small study group and he pulls him away to give him the news.

“Scotty, I think IK what’s wrong with you but you have to be open. I think you might be a werewolf.”

Scott is laughing his pants off while stiles insists that he’s being dead ass

“He’s right you know.”

Both of them jump and turn around to see no other then BUM BUM BUM Derek Hale. But they don’t know him yet… except for stiles who knows about the tragic hale fire.

“I’m who are you.”

“Derek hale” stiles and Derek say in union

Derek’s a little shocked and asks how he knows his name. Stiles then states his dad was on his case years and years ago. Derek doesn’t really want to talk about the hale fire so he just growls and moves on. He makes the duo folllow him out of the library and starts telling them that he heard through other weres that someone was bit by a rouge wolf. He wanted to get to him and help him befor trouble got to him first and subtly shows them the shift. Stiles won’t stop asking Derek questions while Scott is processing this huge news. Stiles is off putting by how aggressive Derek is and pulls Scott over and whispers to him saying that maybe Derek bit him. Derek having super hearing obviously heard that. Cue stiles and Derek bickering when Scott just yells at them to stop and he breaths in and goes

“What do I do now?”

….

And that’s all I got! Thank you for listening to me rant and if you ever wanna disscus my retelling, I’m always down!! I have so much to say. Have a nice day!!



[xxdisturbedxx]

I’m very freshly an adult and even I can see that the two party system is destroying everything especially now. Trump fans are too busy hating on Kamala fans for liking the opposition to truly sit down and research what they are voting for

Sexuality aside I am a woman. Yes I can have kids. Does that mean I want them? No. Did I ever plan on wanting them? No. Now that our president believes that he owns women’s bodies just because he sits in a fancy chair I’m scared.

The tiktoks that I’ve seen of people who voted for Kamala and lost crying and then opening the comments knowing what I’ll see makes me sick. People are in pain because of this election and those who did vote trump are posting horrible horrible comments. Another person is suffering right in front of you and that’s what you decide to say. You make me sick

Our country, has the most fragile masculinity known to man. We’d rather have a man who has been convicted of multiple crimes over a woman. Not only that but trump hasn’t had to work a day in his life, living off of his daddy’s money. Kamala understands work. Why don’t people realize this. No trump isn’t like you.

I think if I have to write anymore about this I might implode.

But here have my piece. And if anyone gets in the comments laughing at me because I’m a Kamala supporter and I don’t agree with trump. Then you too have fragile masculinity and if you’re a woman or don’t identify as a man I’m just gonna let you comment and not care cause in the end I don’t think you realize how much he hates all of us including you.

Thank you

[skele-bunny]

Hi everyone! It was brought to my attention there's concerns about things I write and my writing language, so I wanted to address that!

I want to say first and foremost, I heavily encourage people communicating to me and criticism! I don't mind it at all, and I'm perfectly fine explaining certain things, or feedback about what I can change.

I honestly, genuinely appreciate these things being brought to my attention! I never intend to make people uncomfortable, and if there's a way to change and fix that, I'll do it.

The term "newborn".

So, I was informed that me using the term "newborn" for ghouls made some very uncomfortable especially in nsfw settings. I totally get that, and I hear you! I'll avoid using the term. I had begun using the title as it was not only a source thing for my system, but a way for me to associate new ghouls separately.

I may start using the term in the far future but strictly for fluff purposes, and it's 1000% retired from sexual situations starting now. Instead, I'll begin using "freshly/newly summoned." Or a long the lines.

Infantizing Phantom and Aurora.

I'm very aware I write Phantom in a "smaller" way, as my backstory for him includes being dumbed down and secluded from outside things. It was pointed out how he doesn't seem like an adult in certain situations, and I'll now start to mature that mentality up. I take full acknowledgement on how I write Phantom, but it was never intended to make him act/speak like a child or give the implications he was anything but an adult. But I assure, my language revolving around him will start changing.

As for Aurora, that was completely unintentional. I can understand how it may come across as that, and I'll start taking greater care to see my language revolving around them both in situations.

Fetishizing Rape.

I am a dead dove writer, I've made that extremely clear in both my bio and pinned message. However, I have never meant for any of my Ghost writings to come across as this. The only time you may see me going near that would be with my DD fandoms of Boyfriend to Death/The Price of Flesh, that will only and strictly be posted to my AO3. That is the only, only time.

I do write implications and descriptions of sexual assault, yes, but each one I've made sure to tag/trigger warn as much as possible. These instances are never for fetishizing purposes and only explanations of the past, trauma healing, and in other forms of past tense. If I ever write active SA, it won't be in graphic detail, vague, and warned as much as possible.

Majority of these stories are dedicated to "good endings" of the abuser being killed and the survivor continuing to live on in their own peace, which is catered to my own self and how I want to perceive healing. There's been a few times I've written side "endings" where this doesn't happen, and it's strictly for writing purposes and never delved deep into description. Like a one and done situation, and not what I take as my own canon.

I really hope I was able to clear a majority of these things and explain my thought process. I did not purposely intend for any of these to come across wrongly or as fetishizing purposes. I assure that my terminology and writing habits will be double checked and changed to accommodate to make sure these incidents don't happen again.

If you feel like I need to adjust something or explain, I heavily encourage communicating to me wether as an anon or messages! I am always open to feedback, and I want to make my writing space comfortable for everyone to read and interact with. 🩷