#why did I not think of the cake cousins as a name sooner

[artsandstoriesandstuff]

Ginger and Gingerbread or something, I don't know I didn't grow up with this show

[alreadyblondenow]

Easy come, easy go

“I’m saying, we’re not going to be okay when we’re apart. I’m not sure if I could give the same efforts you’re about to offer in the future,”

Pairing: Jeno x female!reader Genre: SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST. Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, summer love WC: 3,038k Warnings: female reader wears lipstick, jeno putting on lipstick to you, swearing, mentions of parties and one beer, but no alcohol consumption, high school graduates so it the summer before college starts. Unprotected sex, mentions of making out, breakup, couch sex, mentions of other idols.  A/N: I’m in a jeno mood for days already now ughs

It all started this summer, where your cousin Haechan introduced you to some of his friends to somehow help you make new friends over the summer. Having new friends is nice of course, who wouldn't want that. But meeting Lee Jeno and being nice to him was the worst decision you made so far. He was annoying, rude, has poor eyesight and seriously you don't understand why girls go crazy over him. It's like he is this walking nightmare the whole summer that you try to avoid at all costs but you just can't because he and Haechan are best friends.

"The guy likes you. Jeno is not usually "rude" to girls, in fact, he's good with girls. So just have more patience with him," Haechan explains after you rant your heart out during a house party. "Fix your lipstick its smudge- I'll go get you a beer, wait here" and so you did, you took out your phone and your lipstick, trying to re-apply it under the dim lights and neon lights, then suddenly someone bumped your shoulder so hard and spilled their drink on your thin blouse.

It was Jeno. And instead of saying sorry he let out a small laugh and pretended that he didn't do it on purpose. "You look like a clown- uh, your lips... here let me get that for you-"

"Fuck you. Don't touch me," you said sternly and walked away. Leaving Jeno completely speechless and worried because he really did fucked up this time.

You looked for the nearest bathroom and wash away the beer from your blouse but it's useless. The beer stained already it's so obvious, not to mention your face is a mess and Jeno was right you look like a clown because you didn't notice you put on too much lipstick earlier. "Fuck" you murmured and got a tissue to wipe away your ruined makeup.

"Y/n, it's Jeno uhm... Can you please open the door so we could talk, and I could apologize sincerely" he rests his head on the door while holding on to the knob, waiting for you to open it. Thankfully, you did but not because you're being soft this time, you only opened the door because sooner or later you have to deal with him and you rather talk to him in private.

"What?" you asked without meeting his eyes and trying to re-apply your lipstick again but this time you're sure you'll get it right.

"I really didn't mean it earlier. I have poor eyesight and as you can see I don't have glasses right now, so that's why... I'm really sorry." he explained, short but you know it's the truth. He wouldn't come and find you if he didn't want to apologize.

"Apology accepted," you leaned on the mirror and continue to what you're doing but to your surprise, he came closer, grabbed you by the waist gently, and took the lipstick out of your hand.

"Turn towards me," you do as you're told, he then lifted your head, and then you watch him put a little pigment on his middle finger, just enough for your lips and just how you like it. Is he really this good with girls that he even knew how to apply lipstick? "Part you lips," he requests.

But it was a request that made the atmosphere a little warmer and it both made your hearts beat so fast.

Gently then he dabs his finger lightly on your lips, carefully putting enough color into it and careful not to ruin it again for the second time. And when he's done, you simply locked eyes and that's when you saw that he does like you.

Then he kissed you and stopped the world for you. Everything turned silent even though the party music outside the bathroom was blaring and everyone seems to be shouting. It was a quick kiss but it felt so good and right at the same time that Jeno asked for more and wanted to deepen the kiss but you stopped him.

"Okay okay. I understand now," you giggle and erased the pigment on his lips with your thumb. "Let's take it slow," you said and smiled at him but the man who's smiling so big in front of you reached out for the doorknob and locked it. You would be lying if you say you don't want him to kiss you again.

A few days after the kiss, Jeno didn't stop teasing you in front of his friends but it got lessen. A few days later, the little crush grew and grew until Jeno decided he really wanted to try and make things work with you. He can be so annoying to the point that you wanted to punch him, but you know that he's serious when it comes to his feelings. Jeno can be a real asshole sometimes, but the man knew how to make you happy and smile privately.

After the first month of summer, you and Jeno had the time of your lives and spend your precious time together privately. Night swimming in his house, sneaking out to make out during parties with friends, you visiting him during his work and wait for him until its closing time. The first month was beautiful and you didn't expect you would have a great time with someone you used to hate. Even though you hide what relationship you have from everyone, you and Jeno love the privacy and to be honest you don't care if he doesn't flex you to everyone. The man loves you and that's what's important.

“Welcome, beautiful”

Jeno said with a big and teasing smile as you enter the coffee shop his family owns and where he usually works whenever he’s free. “You here to see me? I knew it, you always had a crush on me” he teases further.

“No dumbass, I’m here to buy Haechan a cake,” you said, scanning the displayed cakes and avoiding to look at Jeno’s handsome smile. “I’ll take the birthday cake, and three candles please”

You watch Jeno put the cake and secure it in a box, with the three candles as requested. Giving it to you before he accepts your payment, "You're really not here for me? While I think about you every second of the day?" he pouts and crossed his arms.

"Oh you're annoying, see you tonight" you rolled your eyes but left a smile before you leave him.

Tonight is Haechan's birthday and everyone at home was busy preparing for the party including you. It's a sleepover, only Haechan's closest friends and a few family members were invited that's why you're lucky you get to sleep with Jeno tonight, you just have to plan out how you can sneak out without the others seeing you.

As the party started and guests started arriving, you and Jeno barely talked to each other because you were busy talking to your relatives. But he never let you out of his sight, he was watching you from afar and listing the names of the guys who talk to you tonight in his head. And when all family members came home and everyone who stayed are all drunk and sleeping, you went downstairs to where Jeno is sleeping and brought him a pillow and a blanket.

"Thought you forgot about me already, hi" he waited for you on the couch while he's laying comfortably there with all the lights turned off and only the light from the swimming pool illuminates the room.

"Don't you want to sleep somewhere comfortable?" you whisper and sat on top of him, legs on both of his sides.

"Now that you're on top of me, this is my definition of comfort" he smiled so sweetly and reached for your face to cup it and kiss you. "Let's sleep here tonight," he whispered and pulled your body closer to him. Lips moving, tongue swirling on each other while your hands are intertwined. Letting yourselves enjoy this quiet night for this busy day kept you both apart from each other for so long.

"Jaemin was too friendly with you earlier,"

"I didn't notice- wait, you were watching me the whole time?" you whispered back.

"Of course I'm watching you,"

"Well if we go out in public he wouldn't be so clueless, and you wouldn't end up hating your friend"

"I like the privacy we have. Plus do you realize how much teasing we'd get from Haechan?" you agreed to him and placed your head on top of his chest to listen to his heartbeat. "You know when I first saw you my heart beat so fast that I ended up being rude to you instead of acting cute," you feel the vibrations of his giggle and hear him well. It was just a few words, a sincere gesture and, a little honesty but it made you feel something deep inside that made you confess your love to him.

"I love you. I know it's too early to say it, but there I said. I love you," you hide your face on the side of his neck and feel him soothe your back.

"I was planning to say it first, that's not fair. But, me too. I love you too." he searched for your eyes and flashed a handsome smile at you. Tracing your lips as he remembers the first night he kissed you for the first time. Then you came closer to him for a kiss but the moment heated in no time and the next thing you know you're pulling down Jeno's shorts and palm his big cock through his boxers briefs.

He let out guttural sounds, proof that he's loving the pleasure but careful enough not to be heard so you kissed him and caught all his moans as you continue to work on his cock and eventually started grinding on top of him.

"Are we really having our first on a couch?" he whispered in between kissing, hands started to undo the buttons from your sleepwear. Finally exposing yourself to him, "beautiful as always," he murmured but you rolled your eyes on him, making you both giggle quietly. You removed his shirt and proceed to kiss his very hot body, kissing him on the neck, his collar bones, abs, and most importantly, his sensitive nipples that made him part his lips when your tongue made contact with it. "You're going to be the death of me," he said and slipped his hand inside your thin shorts to palm your ass. You then took initiative, to remove your shorts and throw it on the floor. Now that you're both only in your underwear it made you even more excited.

Slowly Jeno let his hand wander around your body, touching your boobs for the very first time and brushing his fingers oh so softly on your nipples and make them hard just like what you did to his. Until you intentionally came closer to him so you're boobs are near his face and did not hesitate to suck it until both of your nipples are swollen.

"When was the last time you had sex?" he whispered beside your ear and the way he asked you just made you breathe in deeply and let out a small moan.

"Let's just say that it's been too long that you will think you're fucking a virgin,"

"It's going to be a long night then," he said and immediately put two fingers inside you which made you hold onto his shoulder and grind on his fingers. "You were right," Jeno felt how tight you were and became more excited that he moved his finger deeper and curled them, massaging your tight walls and watching you enjoy the pleasure that he give you while you're on top of him.

Then he removed it and you let out a heavy sigh because of frustration, you were so wet by this time and you see his boxers briefs stained with your pussy juices and you swear, you wanted to get mad at him but now is not the time. "Put your fingers back in please,"

“You were so close to cumming, don't you want to cum on my dick instead?" he asked you, pulling his hard cock from his boxers briefs and reaching for your hand for you to palm it and feel how big he is. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you look at how big he is and you knew right then and there that he will feel good. So you position yourself comfortably on top of him, touching yourself for a few seconds before you let him line his cock on your hole.

"Just go slow," he said before you sink down and take him whole. Lips parting and eyebrows furrowing as you take him and let his big cock stretch you out. And when it's finally in, you breathe in and out heavily before you move your hips and make you both feel good.

"Oh fuck" he croaked and place his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him so he could keep you close. "Go slower," he whispered beside your ear then watch your pussy swallow his dick. The sight of it just made him want to fuck you hard tonight, break you and make you scream but he can't.

From the tip of his cock right to his balls, you were that deep that you were both losing your minds at that very moment. His hands roam around your body but it mostly stays on your ass, caressing your butt cheeks and teasing your butthole for a few times so you clench around him. "That's cheating," you joke and kissed him.

He pulled you in for a hug and focused on how you fuck him. Yes, fuck him. And this time a little faster and deeper that he's already on edge and making faces already. Faces that he does whenever he's about to have a mind blowing orgasm that he rarely gets. "K-keep fucking me like that," he said with deep groans, one arm around your waist and one arm reaches for your clit.

"Baby, you don't have to do that- fuck that feels good, mmm" his fingers were enough to make you crazy that you ended up fucking him faster, that the couch creaks already and anyone who is awake can definitely tell you're fucking on the couch.

And when the most awaited moment comes, he pushed you away so he could pull out and pump his cock and let his cum land on his stomach. With heavy breaths and a weak body, Jeno looked at you so lovingly at the other side of the couch. Reaching for his shirt to clean his cum so you could go back to your comfort on top of him.

"I'm sorry you didn't cum,” he said softly, sitting up to reach for you and kiss your shoulders as you busy yourself to wear your panties and sleepwear again. Jeno did the same before you two squeeze your bodies on the small couch. Laying bodies to bodies, sharing one blanket and keeping each other close the whole night.

And when the morning comes, you woke up alone on the couch with the blanket perfectly covering your body from the morning breeze.

Days after that fateful night, you and Jeno find ways to have sex whenever you can and enjoy the second month of summer together doing the things you want to do together, going on places and making unforgettable memories. But just as your relationship was going well, you didn’t expect it to fall right before your eyes.

While you were walking hand in hand on the street just after he ends his shift at the cafe and promised to walk you home, you were reminded of the following things you have to deal with just before this summer ends. And because you’re preparing for your college move-in next month, you mentioned it to Jeno for the first time with excited eyes and high pitched tones. “Am I boring you? Sorry, I was just excited” you said. And then he stopped walking.

“I’m not good with long distance. I love you but I know myself, I could end up cheating and hurting you-“

“Where is this coming from? What are you saying? What are you implying?” you asked, question after question because you have no idea why he’s acting like this. You didn’t expect that your excitement for your college dorms will spark something that will ruin your day.

“I’m saying, we’re not going to be okay when we’re apart. I’m not sure if I could give the same efforts you’re about to offer in the future,” he avoided eye contact and clenched his jaw. You’ve never seen him cold like this before.

“So in other words you’re telling me that eventually, we will break up? You just can’t say it to my face because you’re a coward who would rather give up than try the whole long distance shit first?”

Unfortunately, he nodded. And you don’t know why you’re still holding his hand so let him go and walked away.

“Y/n- fuck,” he followed you and tried stopping you, “let's not do this tonight please, it's so sudden,”

You closed your eyes and tried so hard not to cry in front of him. He just kept on saying the wrong words and it's breaking your heart.

“I would rather accept this sudden situation than let you hurt me slowly on the following days.” you shook your head and show him your disappointment. And what hurts you the most is he didn’t even tried to fight for you, or say he's sorry or admit that he’s wrong. He just let you walk away and throw everything that you built tonight.

A few days after your break up, Jeno regrets everything he did that he even tried reaching out to you and Haechan. But he was too late. You left because you can’t stay there and wait for him to chose you again, only to have the same answers that you get on the night you broke up.  

[hanibalistic]

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

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

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

word count | 32k+

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

tag | @fluffyskzclub​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You habitually waited for the princess to speak first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asked, shrugging.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you said, nodding at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Princess Rose, with love.

A love letter, but from who?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh–good evening, Your Highness.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah… is it Chan?” Hyunjin asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I wasn’t really–“

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

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

“It’s [Na]–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love letter delivery!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that…” Minho giggled nervously.

He wrote no such thing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Is the cake bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a tie bound to break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You switched my letter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hard part, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you care to elaborate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minho–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Write the love letter with me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened today?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A father, yes, but certainly not a dad. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? Care to show me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chan! Chan! Bang Chan!”

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

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

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

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

“[Name]!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that’s a two person job?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But they’re heavy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Lover boy!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What pisses you off?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minho wondered how it felt to fall in love with someone who could’t reciprocate the feeling for so many reasons, and despite all the power the crown holds, there is still nothing to be done.

It must be exhausting. 

“I’ll support you two.” 

Putting the paper and pen down to indicate that this would turn into a rather serious conversation. He sat up, crossed-legged with a confident smile as he watched you vanished into the palace with Changbin. Minho knew, subconsciously, that he still held certain ill-feeling towards what you’ve done to his love letter, albeit if was for his own sake. And he has to admit, he has known you for no more than a long, embarrassing conversation of you lecturing him about the topic of love.

But he was so sure, somehow, that you are definitely no so bad of a love interest for Hyunjin. 

“What?” Hyunjin asked, staring at Minho with wide eyes.

Minho turned to him, the grinning softening on his face. “I said I’ll support you two. When I become king one day and I’m in power, I’ll publicly display my encouragement for you, seeing that you do successfully woo the brat in the future." 

Hyunjin physically brightened at his words, finding solace in knowing that while knowing his romantic goals might be far-fetched, Minho stood with him instead of going against his wishes. It was nice to be able to get it all off his chest; having to hide that he was in love with a kitchen staff around the palace with watchful eyes and soundless walls was terrible. He’d hate to have the news spread all over the place.

Bringing his legs up to his chest, Hyunjin smiled ahead of him, watching the maids move around with laundries baskets in their hands. He scanned their faces, none of them able to reach your level of gracefulness when you walked and the brightness of your smile as you talked to others.

“I want to be able to fall in love with who I want to,” he said with a faint smile. “I want to be able to fall in love with [Name].”

Minho hummed, “You can. Didn’t you already?”

Hyunjin felt a sickening rush of affection consume his veins, the thought of you fulfilling his head. The butterfly, the cream puffs, the single leaf on his hair. His smile widened; Minho was right, he already did.

[citrusdarling7]

Tophelia (part 2)

summary- a smutty excerpt from my tom riddle x oc book, which you can find here (wattpad) or here (ao3)

warnings- smut, swearing, degrading, spoilers for My Riddle to Solve, shower sex

🗡--------------------------------------------—🗡

“Fine. Could I use your shower? The graveyard dirt is still caked to my skin, and there’s most definitely some blood on my hands.” Tom slumped down into one of his chairs and lit a cigarette.

“There’s spare towels under the sink, as well as unopened bars of soap,” he told me. I kicked off my boots and hung my coat next to his before heading into the bathroom. His was a lot larger than mine; one of the many benefits of being a Prefect. I stripped out of my dirty clothes and stepped under the hot water. My body let out a sigh of relief as the first stream of droplets hit my skin.

The brand of soap Tom had smelled like cedar and pine. It was a comforting scent, albeit a bit sharp. I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the door open. Tom cleared his throat, causing me to jump. The shower curtain was pulled shut, so neither of us could really see each other.

“Tom, is something wrong? Did Adelaide wake up?” My voice was shaky, which he took in as a concern.

“Hanson is fine. May I join you?” My mind blanked for a moment. Was he really asking to shower with me? I didn’t care if he saw me naked, but this seemed strangely intimate.

“Alright.”

Riddle undressed himself quickly before peeling back the shower curtain and stepping inside. The lighting in the bathroom was dim, but I was still able to see his body in all of its glory. His chest muscles were intricately sculpted like those of a statue’s. The water from the showerhead trickled down him as he tilted his head backwards and sighed. Tom’s hands made their way to the sides of my hips.

“You’re very stressed. Tell me why,” he demanded in a soft voice.

“How could I not be? I just witnessed my best friend’s possession,” I scoffed. Tom abruptly pulled my body closer to his. His cock pressed against my stomach and his lips lowered to my neck. My eyelids fluttered shut as he began to kiss me gently.

“It’s something more than that. What’s on your mind?” His warm breath on my skin sent shivers down my spine.

“You don’t want to hear about my worries,” I said. Tom’s kisses trailed down to my clavicle as his fingers lightly traced my thighs.

“Mmh, I do. Indulge me with your thoughts.” His pace became more fervent, running his lips, teeth, and tongue across my collarbones.

“I-” my voice wavered at a sudden kiss against the nape of my neck. Tom’s lips were so warm and wonderful, driving me insane with every movement he made.

“Ophelia, be a good girl and talk to me.” The water from the shower head was being blocked by his figure, meaning that his hands and mouth were my only source of warmth. I wasn’t sure why Tom even cared about my worries, but as long as he was willing to keep kissing me, I was willing to divulge them.

“I’m worried. About Raymond, my cousin, the twins, Adelaide, and even you. Things have been different as of late.” The words tumbled past my lips in short breaths.

“What do you mean by that, my darling?” One of his hands snaked in between my thighs.

“Everything is just so hectic. I feel as if we are on the brink of war, concerning Grindelwald and his massive hordes of supporters. I want to protect everyone that I care about, but that is impossible seeing as I can barely protect myself.” Two fingers brushed against my core, causing my breath to hitch. Although Tom’s lips remained on my neck, I could practically feel him smirking.

“Keep talking. Tell me about your friends. Why are you worried for them?” Fingers stroked my folds slowly, eliciting me to tell him more.

“Raymond’s family is so hard on him, and his relationship with-” I almost let Abraxas’ name slip, my mind preoccupied with my current situation, “-Sarah is complicated to say the least. Adelaide is distant, Joslyn is constantly busy, and— fuck, do that again!” His thumb had pressed down onto my clit, causing pleasure to course through my legs and my back to arch against the wall.

“Tell me more, and I might let you come,” he offered with a delightful kiss beneath my jawline. My head fell back against the shower wall as one of his fingers entered me. Riddle was so damn good at this.

“My mother practically despises me, my father is completely corrupt, and the extended family thinks I am a disgrace,” I stuttered. His middle finger joined the first one, thrusting up inside of me with the perfect amount of pleasure as his thumb rubbed circles on my clit. Riddle’s wet curls tickled my neck as he kissed it.

“You take my fingers so well, don’t you?” I tried to speak, but all that came out of my mouth was a whimper. “Don’t stop now. You were being such a good girl for me,” he taunted.

“I- I hate feeling like I don’t- like I don’t know anything, and-” A particularly rough movement of his thumb left me gasping for breath. “Tom, I can’t-” The dark-haired boy tsked in amusement as his hand pulled away from my throbbing cunt.

“What a shame. I would have loved watching you climax around my hand.” He took a step backwards as I sighed in frustration.

“Please, Tom. You can’t just tease me like that,” I begged. He paid no attention to my pleas, opting to stand under the showerhead and act as if I didn’t exist. “Fine, I’ll just get myself off.”

I watched his shoulders stiffen at my suggestion. Riddle quickly spun around and pushed me against the shower wall. He debated the prospect for a moment, not sure if watching me touch myself would be worth allowing me to undermine him.

“You will do no such thing. I want to fuck you, on my bed this time. Would you like that, Ophelia?” I nodded, but that was not good enough for him. “Use your words.”

“Yes. I would.”

In what felt like a blur, Riddle waved his hand to turn off the shower, hoisted me up by the underside of my thighs, and carried me out of the bathroom. I was roughly tossed onto the bed, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped marks on my skin. His duvet was made of a soft black fabric that felt like heaven against my body. The two of us were still sopping wet from the shower, but I suppose Tom didn’t care. He noticed my shivering and quickly conjured up a fire in his fireplace.

He kissed me feverently, his tongue pushing its way into my mouth as my hands grasped at his curls. Skin against skin, I wrapped a leg around his in an attempt to close the gap between us. Heat pooled in my stomach as his lips made their way to my left nipple, sucking at pulling at it with his teeth. His fingers began to play with the right one, causing me to cry out in pleasure.

His kisses trailed down my chest and stomach, continuing lower until he stopped to glance up at me.

“I want to taste your pretty cunt. Can you manage to stay quiet if I do so? Lestrange’s room is to the left of mine,” he warned. The others were without a doubt still awake, and they most definitely did not want to hear me chanting Riddle’s name like a prayer.

“I’ll try my best,” I promised him.

“Good girl. Lie back and let me take care of you.” Tom smirked and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek before moving to kneel in front of the bed. He tugged at my hips to slide me forwards before lifting my legs over his shoulders. He kissed at my inner thighs for a few moments, wanting to tease me as much as he could. The first stroke of his tongue set my entire body ablaze.

His mouth against my heat was quite possibly the most pleasurable thing I had ever experienced. Tom gripped my thighs tightly as he ran his tongue across my folds. I bit down on my lip in a fruitless attempt to silence the moans he was eliciting from me. Dark eyes stared up at me as teeth and tongue wrapped themselves around my clit. My hands desperately clung to the duvet as his wet curls tickled my skin. The sensations I was feeling were so incredibly overwhelming that my hips involuntarily twitched and my legs started to shake. Merlin, why hadn’t I gotten with Riddle sooner?

“Keep still,” he demanded, his words sending vibrations up my core. One of his hands pressed against my lower stomach as the other one warningly slapped my thigh.

“Tom. Don’t stop.” I was rapidly approaching my climax, and the boy currently knelt in front of me also knew that. He abruptly pulled away, causing me to let out a frustrated sigh. However, my disappointment was short-lived. Tom quickly joined me on his bed, positioning himself above me. His cock was so painfully hard that I could see a vein throbbing. Strong hands pinned my arms above my head as he pushed into me with a sudden thrust.

The pace Riddle set was one of extreme speed and intensity. He fucked me so well; the tip of his cock brushed against a sensitive spot inside of me with every movement. My moans and whimpers increased in volume, prompting him to release my arms and clamp one of his hands over my mouth.

“Such a slut for me, aren’t you darling?” Tom’s pupils were blown with lust and his lips were swollen from intense kisses. Every thrust had me clenching around him; I was once again nearing my high. Tom brought his mouth to mine, muffling my moans with a rough kiss. I came around him with a cry; eyes rolled back into my head as pleasure coursed through my veins.

As I came down from my climax, my hands tightly gripped Tom’s shoulders, nails digging into his pale skin. I was painfully sensitive, so much so that sharp pain mixed with every bit of pleasure I was receiving.

When Tom finally reached his orgasm, he buried his face in my neck and stroked the side of my hip with his fingers. His jugular vein tensed as he murmured a stream of praises and swear words. After a few moments of soft kisses and gentle touches, he pulled away from me and went to retrieve his clothes from the bathroom.

“You clearly had a lot of pent-up frustration,” Tom teased as he examined his upper back in the mirror, which was littered with hot red crescent-shaped nail marks. A few of them streaked down his skin in long scratches.

[pirate-kwazii]

Watching Ring Of Fire now so here’s more of my thoughts

Is that a fence in the water

Is everyone groaning about the sea urchin and crab or yawning? I can’t tell

Okay I’ve had the Vegimals song stuck in my head for awhile now

Kwazii’s alarm clock shoots tennis balls at him- same

And Dashi starts the day with yoga

Tweaks fell asleep playing video games mood

Shellington what the fUCK

Tf is that- is that lava?!?

Oh ring of fire like the volcanoes- I feel stupid now

They’re doing their role call out of order

What the fuck Kwazii why did you eat 17 kelp cakes

Is the only thing you eat is seaweed

VIDEO TRAINING VIDEO TRAINING

*terrible accordion playing* *everyone winces*

How many cousins do you have peso?!?!

Kwazii: I’m going out and FAST!!!!

Captain: *eyebrow raise*

Kwazii: I mean I’m checking the engine

MORE GUPS?!?!

“Don’t push the Z button” Kwazii is definitely going to press it I bet all 3 of my dollars

Wait why did Peso and Barnacles need a Gup if they were taking the octopod?!

How much time does Tweak have to keep making all these gups?!

Aw Kwazii loves that Gup so much

WHAT IS BARNACLES WEARING WHAT THE HELL NO

Kwazii’s copying it omg-

Shellington and Dashi are such nerd friends it’s actually adorable

Tremors those are probably important

Ring-shape? Like the ring of fire-

Oh no comms are down

A TSUNAMI?!?!

Mateys you should’ve stayed at the Octopod

Kwazii saved Tweak’s life and now it’s flooding

Why don’t they know about the Ring of Fire if they LIVE in the ocean

Oh no the comms are down they can’t reach them!!!!

Damn at least no one is alone...

Of course the Chinstrap Penguins live on a volcano

Well at least Shellington and Dashi are alright and above water so there’s a lower chance of drowning

“How does he know I’m an octonaut?” Maybe it’s because you’re wearing the octonauts colors and the logo all over it

Wow itd be faster to push the stupid thing

Last time you guys followed the screaming sound there was a tsunami

Well at least you found the whales you wanted to find

“I’ve always wanted to see a whale but not like this!” I’d sure hope so Shellington

Of course the volcano erupts

Tweak Kwazii are ya okay?!

THEY DONT HAVE AIR TANKS ON THEM OH NO

TWEAK!!!

Now is not the time to copy Barnacles- holy shit it worked

She just noticed that?!

Shit you guys are stuck

Kwazii beggars can’t be choosers

Why is that the only way to get across Tweak

No Tweak pay attention

ITS ON FIRE

I really hope you guys can hold your breath

She’s pulling a Ladybug and the things she looks at glow now

Improvised fire extinguisher

WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE ARENT YOU UNDERWATER

Eww they landed in seaweed and a banana peel

Why does everyone end in the garbage disposal- sorry compost

Oh he almost fell in-

*opens door and floods room* Guess we’re swimming after all

Tunip leave him it’s natural selection

Grouber just sits and eats during a panic- same

“Lesson Nine- dealing with disasters” what

Why is the background of those videos so bad

I mean it’s rad but also bad

Tunip: *hands the Vegimals a bunch of shovels* good luck

Mateys how did that dirt pile work-

*quickly unplants all the seaweed*

*vacuums the animals*

LEAVE THE SEAWEED YOU HAVE ENOUGH

“You gotta save us!” Why didn’t you get their attention sooner?

Why do none of them notice the volcanoes that they live on/near

We’ve seen the rafts it won’t work

How the hell did you think of that

Is that even possible

They only leave Inkling in charge when legit no one else is there

Kwazii and Tweak: *mimic pirates, rabbits and Barnacles*

Peso and Barnacles: *mimic penguins*

How was the lava that aLMOST COOKED YOUR EGGS NOT A WARNING SIGN

Wow Inkling is not good at this I see why he’s never in charge

Even Kwazii and the Vegimals have managed the octopod better than that

Why is there is Disco Ball

Why does it always switch to the training videos

“Dashi’s so good at this” yeah it’s almost like it’s her JOB

There was a BUTTON FOR THAT EXACT REASON AND YOU DIDNT THINK TO PRESS IT FIRST?!?!?!

Took you long enough jeez

What is they fall off of the “slide”

“Mothers and babies first” anyone else can perish

Well that egg is dead

Oh never mind he got it

WHY DIDNT YOU TWO GET ON THE SIDE TOO TWEAK WOULD UNDERSTAND

I mean she and Kwazii are trying not to be set on fire so I’m sure she’d get it

“I just hope everyone else is okay” well shellington and Dashi are stuck on a volcano that’s exploding trying to get a beached whale out on a very slow Gup, the Vegimals are trying to evacuate the garden, and Tweak and Kwazii are trying to get out of the burning and flooding repair area so no I don’t think anyone else is okay

“This isn’t working” no really Dashi

Oh the crabs know Kwazii that explains so much

Another Training Video?!

The crew all look so nervous when they appear in a training videos

Oh now Dashi and Shellington are mimicking Tweak

Poor Shellington he’s clumsy

“I have to say I.. really like that plan” yea cuz it’s the one that doesn’t involve you burning in the lava

Shellingtons getting a workout in oof

He’s about to fall into the lava

Now the crabs about to fall into the water

Oh god he’s screwed

Crab jump on the whale- now he’s flying

Shellington get out of the lava!!!

Alright some people are safe

Oh never mind the other volcanoes are erupting too

That water level is dangerously high are they gonna be okay

Kwazii don’t phrase it like that it sounds like you’ll die

KWAZII!!!!!

Oh god oh no his tail

Mimicking Barnacles saved the day

TWEAK!!! KWAZII!!!

Oh they are alright thank god

They’re gonna be traumatized from this- *angst time*

“And how will we get up there” Kwazii making good points again

Kwazii with a grappling hook is a terrifying idea please get one

And now they find out the comms are down

Kwazii trying to be helpful

WHY DOES SHE HAVE AN EMERGENCY CARROT STASH

KWAZII GOT ONE TOO

Another video but this ones useless-

TWEAK YOU TURNED OFF THE POWER

They sounded the octo alert together!!!

Babies

EVERYONES OKAY!!!!

OF COURSE THERES ANOTHER ONE

Kwazii and Tweak: ya we’re good

Also them: *trying to not to drown or burn*

They are all gonna connect to each other like Voltron aren’t they

KWAZII DID PRESS IT IM NOT LOSING MY $3 TODAY!!!

Tweak: I got a plan

*crashes through the hatch*

Kwazii: *excited cat sounds*

Yeah they’re going together naturally

“Mega Gup Z” epic naming skills Tweak

“Seat swap” “wait a minute- WHOA”

“It’s completely covered in sea creatures” there’s no way you get all of them

Oh good some are swimming away

“Sit tight” they can’t really do anything else Captain

Do we know where they go after being S U C C E D into the mega Gup z?

And now rocks are everywhere

Kwazii’s excited cat noises are giving me life

Couldn’t the crabs walk away?

Oh no they’re getting stuck in the volcano-

Oh they’re good thank Neptune

Dashi: yea it’s bout to erupt we gotta go

Peso: I saw something inside there we gotta go look

Does Peso want them to die

Of course the animals sound snobby

“Why ever would we do that” CUZ ITS ERUPTING i swear all the creatures have the IQ of a walnut

“I didn’t even make a button for it” bruh

Yeah just like Voltron

Kwazii: *even more excited cat noises cuz he gets to destroy things*

Why do you all name the moves with the word “mantis” in front of them?

They all share one braincell and Barnacles and Peso have it 90% of the time

Tweak gets the other 10%

Everyone else runs on pure chaotic energy

“Tweak Status Report!” Tweak: WE ARE FUCKED

Let Tweak say “Fuck” 2k21

Kwazii: *e x c i t e d c a t n o i s e s*

*throws sea creatures at whale*

*blows up into five gups in massive explosion in front of erupting volcano*

Is all that sea urchin thinks about is food

“You know what I’d like? Dinner” “you know what pal, that sounds great”

“Have the eruptions stopped” “yea but that’s not what I called about”

Is Inkling trying to be more than that guy who sits in his library all day?

Yea it’s not hatching because of the bandage all around it

Please say the egg doesn’t die

Oh it’s alive good

Octonauts: remember that island that got destroyed by a volcano? Would you like to live on an island that volcano created?

Penguins: not really

Octonauts: too bad

Vegitoa? Wow

ITS THAT STUPID SONG AGAIN LAST TIME IT WAS IT MY HEAD FOR TWO WEEKS

“It still felt like we were working as a team” maybe cuz you were all copying each other the whole time

“You really, really need to update those training videos” yeah fair enough

Of course the Vegimals still remember the dance

I see what the hype was about that was a fantastic movie mateys... though everyone’s probably gonna have some problems after that

[it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream]

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 11

Warnings: Mentions of infant death

Word Count: 1.8k

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-19 years ago-

As per usual, Farah was bored. She was home in the kingdom of Solaria and once again her family were throwing another ball. Of course she had to be there, she was part of the royal family after all. Her sister was Queen Luna Star, she couldn’t make the family look bad by ditching the event, especially as it was held in her honour.

Big ball dresses and small talk wasn’t her thing. This was temporary however. Soon Farah would be going back to Alfea to take over as Headmistress and she’d finally start living by her own rules. Her mentor and friend Rosalind would be there to guid her and Saul, a friend she had met as a student, would be there as the Headmaster of the Specialists. She couldn’t think of better people to be surrounded with.

There was one upside to the party. People from all over the magic realms had been invited and there was one person in particular that caught Farah’s eye. She didn’t expect things to go the way they did but one thing led to another and she and the mysterious, dark haired stranger found a quiet room in the castle and made love until the rise of the morning sun.

The story goes that she awoke from a dream, a prophecy. The stranger was never seen again and later was found to be the king of the Blood Witches, an enemy to the fairies. Three weeks later and Farah found that she was pregnant. The prophecy was coming true.

“A child, born on a Soul moon, half Fairy, half Witch. Powers bestowed by the Great Dragon, will be the balance between good and evil. The key to the lives of all those who harness power, they are the one true heir to all the lands.”

The former King and Queen of Solaria were ashamed of Farah. Hiding the truth about the pregnancy from everyone. Even her sister Luna kept quiet of the affair, as she did not want anyone else to have claim to the throne, prophecy or no prophecy.

Nine months later and a girl was born. Farah was elated, however there was a dark sinister plot she didn’t know about. The doctors were ordered to do something unforgivable by Queen Luna, under the pressure from her parents. Farah was told that the baby was still born, a spell cast on the newborn to make it seem as if she were not breathing. Farah was inconsolable. Maybe the prophecy wasn’t supposed to come true. But it was.

Queen Luna had a soldier take the baby to the first world and left it on the steps of a hospital, where it would be taken care of as a changeling, nobody the wiser.

Farah grieved for her lost child but finally moved on, becoming Headmistress of Alfea and leaving royalty behind. She didn’t speak to her family, didn’t mention her sister or her lineage to anyone and changed her last name. It was kept a secret so she could live a somewhat normal life. Eventually the story was re-told to her three friends, Ben Harvey, Saul Silva and Rosalind who all swore never to tell a soul.

Farah thought that part of her life was behind her, a mere, sad memory of something that shouldn’t have been. But she was wrong. 18 years later, Saul found a changeling crying in the woods over the body of a burned one. She didn’t know it then but Farah’s life would never be the same again.

——————————————————————————————————

-Y/N’s POV-

Growing up, you’d connected with books like Harry Potter. Something about you could connect with the main character. Treated unfairly over and over by families that were meant to take care of you. No belongings, no friends, a tiny room and worst of all… no parents. You’d sat in your room at nights pouring over the words in your books, imagining the magical life you wished you could escape to.

You wanted a group of friends like Ron and Hermione. The adventures, the power, the fun. Even reading those books would never prepare you for a moment like this. You’d dreamt about the day you found your birth parents, gone over and over the meeting in your head a thousand times. You hadn’t pictured it like this.

You were still in Farah’s office. She was looking at you, tears rolling down her cheeks. You were crying too, what were you supposed to say? You felt like you couldn’t breath. You’d always thought you weren’t wanted, that your parents had just given you up like people give up smoking after new years, but that wasn’t the case at all. She’d thought you were dead. She didn’t know… She didn’t know. You wanted to be mad, be angry but all you could feel was upset and confused.

“I- I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know… who I am.” You quickly swept the tears from your face and stood, knocking back the chair in your hurry.

“Please don’t run away Y/N, I.. I wanted to tell you sooner but I needed to be sure. I didn’t want to give you false hope and I couldn’t go through losing you all over again.” You wanted to scream, you didn’t know whether to hug the woman in front of you or run for the hills. It was all too much.

“Stella knows doesn’t she, that’s part of the reason Queen Luna took her, she’s my cousin…” You were sobbing again, more like hyperventilating. Saul had bust the door down as soon as her heard your gasps of air. In seconds you were in his arms and he was trying to get you to breath again. Your ears were ringing and you couldn’t concentrate. You just needed to get out of there.

You did the only thing you knew how to do well. You ran, taking Sauls hand in yours, you opened a portal and poof. Both of you disappeared from Headmistress Dowling's office.

Now, the truth is you thought you’d become stronger after all the training and the hard times you been through. But all this drama and truth takes the cake. How could you not run away after that overload of information?

Mums your Headmistress.. check

Dads the king of the Blood Witches…. check

Your future husband is your mothers best friend… check

Your bestfriend is actually your cousin… check

Your Auntie, the Queen of Solaria pretended you were dead and made you a changeling.. check

And to top it all off you were the answer to an ancient prophecy and apparently you were supposed to be the answer to the balance between good and evil. Just another day in the life of Y/N.

Even when you landed through the portal you were still hyperventilating. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Saul was on you again in a flash, trying to calm you down before your powers went haywire. Hey, at least you had an explanation for why they did that from time to time. You were more powerful than you’d ever thought possible.

“Angel, please try and breath, copy me, in and out, it’s okay, I’ve got you, i’m here, look at me. Y/N LOOK AT ME!” Sauls pleading and authoritative voice seemed to snap you from your panic. Your eyes were full of unshed tears and you felt physically drained. His arms came around you and his chin rested on the top of your head. God, you wanted to be mad at him for not telling you but you couldn’t. It wasn’t his place to tell you and you knew that. Plus, being in his arms was the only place you felt safe, you weren’t about to ruin that. You needed Saul more than he would ever know.

You calmed, peeking out of Sauls arms to take in your surroundings. You don’t know why your mind had taken you here, this was the last place you or Saul would probably want to see. Asterdale. The wind swept through your hair and spray from the ocean below dusted your tear streaked face.

“Saul, please, tell me what really happened here. I need to know the truth.” He nodded. You pictured the barrier around the building coming down and a flash of electricity bolted from your hands, the ruins now visible.

“It all started with Rosalind…..” He dove into telling you the truth about what really happened. How Rosalind had lead Farah, Ben and Saul to believe there was no one in the village, burned ones were the only ones left. Apparently Sky’s father had been part of her plan too, he knew the truth and Saul and him had a fight.. ending in Saul killing his best friend Andreas. It was all Rosalind’s fault.. Rosalind, the person Bloom was trying to free from Farah’s spells.

——————————————————————————————————

It had been a few hours of just talking with Saul, laying in his arms, when you both decided to return to the school. By now, people would probably start to wonder where you both were and you didn’t need to make things any more suspicious. It was also still too dangerous to be out in the open like this.

Something about the school looked different to you now. Older, more worn down. Full of lies and secrets hidden in the walls. It was as if she sensed your presence. Farah was waiting on the steps outside, pacing nervously, your friends waiting along side her. You don’t know what compelled you to do it, one minute you were walking next to Saul, the next you were in front of Miss Dowling… your mum, and then you were in her arms. At first she stilled, shocked perhaps, then she hugged you with everything she had in her, tears flowing freely, mixing with your own. It felt right. It wasn’t her fault you were a changeling. If anything, it was just as unfair on her. The baby she was excited to have, was secretly taken away from her and for years she was lead to believe a cruel lie. You were pretty sure you even heard Saul sniffle from behind you.

Your friends had been filled in by Farah, she knew you would need support after the ordeals you’d gone through. There were no words for the shock everyone had experienced today. Yet, you still felt like something bigger was on the horizon.

The burned ones were still a major threat, Bloom was still having dreams about Rosalind, and Beatrix was locked up in some magic stealing cell. Most of all, you had a mother and a father and the King of the Blood Witches, well, he was still out there.

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okay so, this is a short chapter compared to what I usually post, it's more of like a filler chapter but I hope you still like it now you've learnt the story of the Reader and Farah's relationship! Please if you have any thoughts or ideas let them be heard in the comments!!! Please reblog/like/follow <3

CHAPTER 12 ------ CLICK HERE

Tag List

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[haledamage]

Oh there are so many good ones, but I’m gonna go with either aspectabund or petrichor for Nadia/Kurt bc I must ENABLE😇

aaaaand here’s the other one 😁 (first one is here)

aspectabund - letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes

have 2000 words of pure hurt/comfort! putting everything including the notes under the cut because it’s pretty spoilerific

Takes place right after the Prince’s Secret/Treason!/Suffering of Constantin parade of earth-shattering revelations. That was a really rough day for De Sardet and I wanted Nadia to get a chance to actually process it before moving on to the next adventure. Nadia/Kurt, pre-relationship but only barely (like, literally the difference of a matter of days. They would have left to deal with Major Hermann in the morning 😉)

---

They had only just stepped into the warmth and relative safety of the De Sardet residence before Nadia left the room with barely a word or glance at any of her companions. Kurt felt her gentle dismissal like a blow to his chest, and the quiet click of her bedroom door latch carved a hollow space behind his rib cage. It didn’t feel right for her to be alone with her sorrows, no matter that at least some of the blame for her pain could be laid squarely at his feet.

He only realized he’d moved to follow her when a hand fell on his shoulder. When he turned to confront its owner, he found Vasco there, his expression grave enough to disperse Kurt’s anger before it had a chance to build. “Best leave her be. She’s had a trying day. Give her time.”

He was right. Kurt knew he was right. That didn’t mean he had to like it, but he tried to listen to his advice nonetheless.

He went to his own room, right across the hall from Nadia’s, and mindlessly stripped off his armor and weapons with the conciseness of routine. He tried not to think too much about the blood he washed off his skin, or if he’d known the person it belonged to; they had made their choice, and so had he.

Clean and dressed, Kurt was out of distractions. He considered patrolling around the property on the off chance that someone lurked with the intent to do Her Excellency harm, but instead of reaching for his sword he found himself reaching for the door handle. His feet carried him across the hall before he’d asked them to. It was only at the terse tap tap tap of his own knock that he realized he was at her door.

The woman who answered the door was not the Nadia de Sardet he thought he knew. He’d known her more than half her life and always she’d been a lively creature, clever and curious and full of mischief. But not now. Now she looked delicate and subdued, her normally bright blue eyes dull and ringed in red, ginger hair bedraggled and falling from its crown. She was still wearing her armor, caked in mud and blood and who knew what else. Her hand clenched tightly on the edge of the door, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way it trembled.

She was beautiful even so. He felt guilty for thinking it at a time like this, but not enough to consider taking it back.

“Kurt.” She tried to smile at him, but it fell far short of believable. Her voice shook like her hands did. “Is something the matter?”

“I think I should be asking you that question.” He clasped his hands behind his back like he was presenting himself to a superior officer for inspection, weighing his words and movements carefully so as not to bludgeon through this. She looked like a strong wind or word would break her entirely. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Even after everything that had happened, she didn’t hesitate before stepping aside in silent invitation. He slipped past her into the room before she could change her mind.

Everything looked completely untouched. A bath had been drawn for her, but the water remained pristine and had been left to cool. Nadia’s sword and rucksack sat in a chair against the wall, but they were the only sign anyone had stepped foot in this room in weeks.

Nadia herself still hovered by the closed door, arms wrapped around herself but shoulders straight. Her voice was stronger but still far too small. “Please tell me you aren’t here with any new world-shattering revelations. I don’t think my heart can take any more.”

“I just wanted to see you,” he assured her quickly. “Check on you, make sure you were…” The last word turned to ash in his mouth. Of course she wasn’t okay. That she was still even trying to smile was nothing short of a miracle.

“I’m fine,” she lied. She made no attempt to make it sound believable.

“No you’re not, Nadia. You don’t have to be.” She sagged, as if him calling her by name had severed the last of the bravado holding her upright. He caught her before she could collapse, one hand on her elbow and the other cupping her cheek. “Let me help you.”

She studied his face for a long moment, though what she was looking for he had no idea. Kurt let her search as long as she wanted, letting his thumb trace a line along the edge of her jaw as she did. He could feel her mark under his fingers, smooth lines and whorls like that of a newly-inked tattoo or the veins of a leaf.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she nuzzled into his hand, letting out a sigh of what sounded like relief. Then, finally, she nodded in assent.

Slowly and carefully, he helped her disrobe. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her naked--bathing in rivers and dressing each other’s wounds were part of the life they led, and he was too old to blush at the sight of a bit of bare skin, no matter who it belonged to. A traitorous part of his mind - one that had grown vocal of late, no matter how much he tried to push it away - wished that the circumstances were different, that he could be undressing her with a different outcome in mind, but he squashed that thought as soon as it arose. He wouldn’t take advantage of her distress like that, would not allow himself to consider such a thing right now.

Nadia was completely compliant under his direction, silent and passive as he removed her armor and led her to the bath. She didn’t so much as flinch at the touch of the cold water as he cleaned the blood and dirt from her skin as gently as possible. Kurt gave her a quick cursory search for injuries, but it seemed she’d at least had the wherewithal to heal herself at some point. Satisfied, he dressed her in fresh clothes and led her to the edge of the bed.

He sat next to her and set about unbraiding her hair. It was tangled and wild, and he considered brushing it for her as well, but didn’t trust himself to be gentle enough to do so without hurting her. Perhaps he should ask one of the others to help with that, later on.

And then Kurt was out of things to do and had no idea what to say to fill the quiet. He shouldn’t linger past his welcome, he told himself, no matter how much he might selfishly wish to remain in her company.

He climbed reluctantly to his feet, but stood in front of her a moment longer to see if she awoke from her trance. She didn’t, and so he reached out to rest his hand on the crown of her head in a way he hoped she found comforting. “Get some rest, Green Blood. If you need anything at all, you come find me. I’m right across the hall.”

Nadia still didn’t answer, and so he sighed and turned to leave.

“Kurt.” Her hand shot out and grabbed his. There was life in her eyes again when he turned back to her. “Thank you. For this and for… everything.” She looked away, distracting herself by tracing the lines of old scars on his hand, her touch light and yet deliberate. Kurt tried not to shiver at the sensation. “I can’t imagine how difficult of a decision it must have been. What you did today. I hope you don’t regret it.”

“The only thing I regret is that I couldn’t tell you sooner.” When Nadia didn’t look back up, he knelt in front of her, raising the hand that she didn’t still cling to up to her face to get her to meet his gaze again. Her eyes shimmered with tears, only barely held at bay. “D’you want to know why I did what I did? Why I chose you over the Coin Guard? Because they tried to order me to kill you, and you are sitting here crying your eyes out worried about how I feel about it.”

He’d told her once that her soft heart would get her killed one day. As it turned out, it may have been what saved her life - or saved his.

Her bottom lip quivered until she clenched her jaw to force it to still, but the action made the tears finally spill over, falling silently down her cheeks. He brushed them away, though more fell to take their place almost immediately. “Though I would bet these tears aren’t all for me, are they, Green Blood?” 

She shook her head, though he didn’t really need the confirmation; the last day had brought revelations from every corner, but worst for her would be Constantin’s condition. Her cousin had always been her closest friend, and he might be considered her only real remaining family. 

Kurt tried to force a bit of optimism in his voice, though he doubted it was convincing. “He’ll be okay. If anyone can save him, it’s you.”

“I couldn’t save my mother.” Nadia’s voice broke, and with it the last of her composure. “Can I even still call her that?”

Times like this served to remind Kurt that he did in fact still have a heart, because he could feel it break for her. Tears stung the back of his own eyes for a moment before he forced them away and sat on the bed once more, then gathered her into his arms. “Come here. I’ve got you.”

She buried her face in his shoulder with a whimper, gripping his shirt with a surprising strength, and finally let herself go.

Her body shook with the strength of her sobs, as if all of the day’s events struck her at once and tried to tear her asunder. Kurt held her through it all, whispering things he would only half remember if he tried to think of them later, attempts at comfort and confessions and promises that he knew neither of them would ever hold him to.

At some point, they fell back on the bed and Nadia pressed herself to his side like she was made to fit there. He continued to hold her close, stroking her back and hair until she had finally cried herself out and relaxed against him.

“Thank you, Kurt.” She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. It was a familiar motion - Nadia had always been free and easy with her affections when it came to those she cared about - but this time it burned like a brand, leaving a claim on him for the world to see. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and murmured against her hair, “You’ll never have to find out.” It was the easiest oath he’d ever had to make, and he meant it with every bone in his body.

The last of the tension bled out of her, and he could feel her go slack as sleep claimed her at last. 

He continued to caress her back for a while longer, the repetitive motion as soothing for him as it clearly was for her. He knew he should leave now that she was asleep, but he still couldn’t quite bring himself to move. He didn’t want to wake her, he reasoned to himself. She shouldn’t be left alone in this state. It would be easier to protect her if he stayed--just in case more trouble came for them.

He was still trying to convince himself when sleep dragged him under too.

[romioneficfest]

Something Growing

Title: Something Growing

Prompt/Day: Day 14 - Ron leaves for a mission

Tumblr name: 

Rating: K

Brief summary: Hermione’s pregnant— and she’s freaking out. She’s always been good at everything, but she’s not sure that’ll hold for being a mother; however, when Ron gets home earlier than expected, she realizes she doesn’t need to be great at everything so long as she’s got him beside her.

Tags: brief mention of contraceptive charms and trying for a baby, but only in those words— nothing more than that

Hermione seldom spent a night alone. Ever since Shell Cottage —where Ron had stayed devotedly by her bedside, stroking her hair and holding her close, and in between sleepy murmurs she’d told him “I never want to sleep alone again” and he’d replied “you won’t"—, there had only been a handful of nights where the other side of the bed was empty.

Tonight was one such night.

And boy, was she happy about it.

Ron had left for a mission the day before, and though Hermione ordinarily hated seeing him go, she was desperately in need of a bit of solitude, because she needed to think— and Hermione thought best when she was alone.

She didn’t think he’d noticed, so busy was he with the preparations for the mission, but the last few days had been odd. She’d been waking up feeling nauseous and had even had to rush to the bathroom a couple mornings just to kneel before the toilet bowl and retch into it; she’d been peeing a lot more often than she usually did; she’d been uncommonly tired, her lower back throbbing with a constant, unwavering ache— and, most disconcertingly of all, there had been no familiar monthly stain tinging her panties red.

And Hermione’s periods, much like her, were always on time.

So, as much as she hated Ron being away, she felt a weight lift off her chest when the door clicked shut behind him, and she was left alone to sift through her thoughts and worries the whole day over. However, something had kept her from confronting them all day: she’d busied herself with menial tasks around the house —vacuuming floors and dusting bookshelves, mopping the kitchen and cleaning out the pantry— to push away the fact that she’d have to wrestle with what was happening to her sooner or later.

But, as soon as she was in bed, the lights off and the covers shrouding her, she knew there was no getting around it anymore.

She was pregnant.

Merlin, she was pregnant.

She and Ron had always talked about wanting children, had daydreamed about light tufts of red hair and innocent chocolate eyes, so why had this jolted her so harshly? They’d been trying, after all, they’d long given up on contraceptive charms— so why did her heart swirl with dismay? She’d never in her life been bad at anything, so why should she be bad at being a mother?

But that’s just it, she suddenly realized. That’s what was worrying her so much, that’s what had kept her awake through the last few nights, even as she lay in the embrace of a happily-snoring Ron. Was she going to be any good at this? She’d never been particularly close to her parents —too many dinner parties where they expected her to sit and talk maturely to the guests—, and after she’d started at Hogwarts, she’d started seeing less and less of them, spending entire summers at the Burrow, and the situation had peaked when she’d had to ship them off to Australia to protect them. It wasn’t that she didn’t love them, not at all— it was more that she didn’t exactly know how they’d done it. She’d been a very naturally disciplined child, but what if the one inside of her wasn’t? What if it turned out as reckless as Fred or George, or as rebellious as Ginny (there’d be Weasley blood in it, after all)? What would she do then? She couldn’t think of anything beyond scolding— and she knew the child would despise her for it, she only had to remember the revolted look on Ron’s face every time she’d dared tried to exercise some discipline as a Prefect.

And then there was the matter that she was absolutely terrible at contending with her own emotions. She could read anyone else’s as clearly as a book, but when it came to her own, there was a barrier of some sort there. That’s why she was so bad with brooms, wasn’t it? She couldn’t handle having to make an emotional bond with an inanimate object, something no textbook would tell her. And that’s why she’d hated Divination so much, wasn’t it? That degree of introspection was also something she couldn’t learn from anywhere. How was she to be trusted with something so deeply emotional as loving, as caring for a child? What if she never got past it? What if the baby came out and she felt nothing?

I’m going to bomb this, she thought to herself, her panic growing with her ultimate conclusion. She was going to be terrible at this, and Ron was going to end up resenting her, and everything they’d built together would come crashing down on them— oh, Merlin, what have we done?

A sudden noise from the kitchen startled her, pulling her from her thoughts. The door to their flat had opened, and someone was traipsing around the kitchen. Hermione stiffened and groped around her nightstand for her wand, prepared to take on whoever the intruder was; however, she soon recognized the familiar rhythm of the footsteps as Ron’s own, and she floated back into the bed, relieved. It didn’t last her long: she sat up again almost immediately, her eyes wide. He was here early! He wasn’t supposed to be back for another day! And she still hadn’t thought of what she would tell him— what they would do—

"Hey there,” came Ron’s whisper as he pushed the bedroom door open softly and let himself in. “Stayed up for me?”

Hermione gulped and nodded, still too stunned to do much else, only just managing to stammer out: “You’re home early.”

“Yeah,” came Ron’s gentle laugh, and Hermione felt the mattress dip as he sat on the bed next to her, the room still dark, and began taking off his shoes. “We thought it was going to be super dangerous, but the git chickened out and practically turned himself in. Piece of Cauldron cake.”

“That’s nice,” squeaked Hermione, her mind still racing in alarm.

“Yeah, and I get to come home to you,” said Ron, leaning across the bed to kiss her. She returned the kiss absently, not fully in it because she was unable to get out of her own head. He didn’t seem to notice, and returned to getting ready for sleep, stripping off his shirt and peeling off his trousers.

He chattered absentmindedly about the mission as he rustled through his drawers, shimmied into his pyjamas, and brushed his teeth. Only when he flicked off the bathroom light and returned to the dark bedroom did he seem to realize that his usually-talkative wife had sat in stony silence all throughout. “‘Mione, you okay? Need me to fetch you anything? A cup of tea?”

She could only just make out a faint outline of him in the dark, but her eyes were glued to him. She was suddenly seeing him, as if everything about the man she’d married was becoming revealed: he’d spoken with such tender concern for her, no matter that he’d come back from a mission where he’d risked his life, and he’d taken the time to make sure she was okay. That was so like him —ever since he’d stood up for her to Malfoy when they were both at Hogwarts, when he’d suggested she pass herself off as his cousin and offered to teach him his family tree, every night he’d spent curled around her in Shell Cottage to give her safety—, that was so like her lovely, caring Ron. Because that’s what he was: he was caring, and he was loving, and he was smart, and he was funny. He was her rock. And moreover, it suddenly dawned on her, he was going to be the perfect dad.

The tension finally evaporated from her muscles, because she knew it now: it didn’t matter how much she’d struggle, because he was going to be right there next to her, to help her through it, to step in where she couldn’t and support her when she needed it. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t perfect, because they didn’t need to be perfect parents on their own— they just had to be good at it together. And with Ron by her side, there was nothing to fear.

“I’m alright,” she replied after a lapse of silence, a smile finally finding its way back onto her lips after an entire day of anguish. She instinctively placed a hand to her belly —right under the R of Ron’s knit Christmas sweater she liked to sleep in when he was away, because it smelled like him—, right over where their baby must be right now, where something was growing, and felt it rise and fall with the last breath she’d take before their lives would change forever. “There’s just something I need to tell you.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Promises Not Kept Part 26

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 26: Tommy finds out something that could very well ruin his wife’s birthday. 

           “So, you’re just going to disappear the rest of the day and pretend like nothing happened?”

           Tommy startled. He was almost certain that his wife had been sound asleep as he got ready. It was only four-thirty in the morning and the last time Leah had woken up so early was when Johanna was still nursing.

           Leah sat up and crossed her arms over her chest. It was a miracle she had actually allowed Tommy to sleep in the same bed as her. But after an ambulance arrived for Aberama, they didn’t have much time to argue. Johanna insisted on enjoying her cake and opening the remainder of her presents. From there, the parents divided and conquered. Leah gave Johanna a bath while Tommy read to Charlie. They swapped, Tommy, going to kiss his daughter goodnight while Leah made sure Charlie had brushed his teeth and was washed up. They met up in their bedroom but neither said a word as they got ready for bed. Leah turned off the light before Tommy had a chance to apologize. Of course, maybe he could’ve apologized sooner.

           “I have to do something important with Pol before I leave for London with Arthur and Michael.” He rattled off his agenda so she wouldn’t be suspicious.

           However, the lack of details made her plenty suspicious. “What are you doing with Polly this early?”

           “Visiting an orphanage that the company funds.”

           Leah chewed on her lip. There were so many things she wanted to say. But would it just drive the wedge further between them? Should she wait until they could properly sit down and talk? That seemed to work in the past, even though they were right back at square one. “It’s Polly’s birthday.”

           “I know, I’ll give her your well wishes.” He said, finishing up getting dressed.

           “I was going to visit her. Frances said she’d watch the children for me.”

           He shook his head. “I have a job for her this afternoon. You two can see each other another day.”

           Leah was less than pleased with his response. But she tried to let it roll over her like the ocean’s tide. “What are you doing in London with Michael and Arthur?”

           “We have a meeting with another member of Parliament.”

           “Is it Oswald Mosley?”

           Hearing her speak the man’s name gave Tommy quite a shock. He turned around. “Where did you hear that name?” He demanded. Fear spiked him right in the chest. Had Mosley approached Leah without his knowledge?

           “Ada,” Leah replied. “She said he was an evil man and you’re doing business with him.” Her tone was accusatory.

           Relieved that Leah hadn’t been in contact with Mosley, Tommy let his guard down slightly. “He is. But you don’t have to worry.”

           She scoffed and threw her hands up. “Worry? Tommy, why on Earth do you go picking fights with people? For once, we have something nice going. We have a family, you got elected. Now you’ve decided to stir up trouble again?”

           “There are matters that you don’t-”

           She held up a finger at him with a deadly glare. “Thomas Shelby, don’t you dare tell me there are things I don’t understand. I understand that you’re never satisfied with what you have. I understand that you’ll fight anyone who comes walking by. I understand more about you than you understand about yourself.” She spat and threw back the sheets. “What I’d like to know is when you’ll tire of me? Because I’d like to know beforehand. These children, your children, deserve better.” She passed by him in a huff and went to Johanna’s room.

           Tommy groaned and rubbed his eyes. It was too early.

~~~~~~~~~~

           Leah didn’t smoke as much as she used to. It was a crutch she used when she was working in Midland. Something about having a smoke was comforting and at least consistent. When she found some sort of consistency with Tommy, she didn’t feel much of an urge to reach for a cigarette. Then, when Johanna came along, she hardly ever thought about having one.

           But after her early morning argument with Tommy, she found herself rummaging around the big room for a pack. As she rifled through his drawers, the phone rang.  

           “Shelby residence?”

           “It’s Ada, I’ve just been at the hospital with Michael’s wife.”

           Leah frowned and sat down. She’d only heard about Gina in passing. Tommy had ranted about Michael and mentioned the marriage. She found it sudden that Tommy’s cousin had returned with a pregnant wife. But he had been away for quite some time. “Is she alright?”

           “It was just a check-up for the baby. They heard a heartbeat, so they said everything’s okay.” Her sister-in-law reported.

           “Oh, that’s good.”

           “Yeah, has Tommy said anything about her to you?” Ada wondered.

           “Well, no…not much. He mostly goes on about Michael.”

           There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “There’s something…off about her.” Ada admitted. “I don’t know what it is but there’s something. Never mind that she and Michael are acting all high and mighty.” She grumbled.

           “Off? Well, we don’t know her very well.” Leah knew how wary Shelbys were of strangers in their family.

           “Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? The more time I spent with her the odder things were. It’s just like she knows something that I don’t. I don’t like it.”

           “I’m sure she’s harmless,” Leah assured her. “Maybe over time…”

           “I think you should meet her first.” Ada interrupted. “I wouldn’t trust her until then.”

           It didn’t help that Leah was left to ruminate on her argument with Tommy. She much would’ve preferred to go out to Birmingham to visit Polly. The worst came when Charles was scheduled for a violin lesson after school and Johanna had gone down for an afternoon nap.

           Leah shut herself in Tommy’s study to smoke. She tried reading but her thoughts kept intruding and causing a stir. Frustrated, she put down her book and went to pick up the phone.

           After consulting with the operator, she was connected to a solicitor. As the telephone rang, her eyes wandered to the picture frames Tommy had on his desk. The most recent was Tommy’s birthday. The family was standing outside in front of Arrow House. Tommy was holding Johanna in one arm, his other arm wrapped around Leah’s waist. Charlie stood in front of his parents, Leah’s hand on his shoulder. They looked so cohesive, a single unit that fit so perfectly together. And Tommy. The man never smiled for photographs, that was to be expected. But even with the lack of a smile, he looked so proud. Proud of his wife, his two kids, the house behind them. He was proud.

           “Law offices of Mr.-”

           Leah hung up before the secretary had the chance to finish her greeting. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood up. No, she wasn’t a martyr for trying to make a marriage with Tommy Shelby work. But at least she hung up the phone.

~~~~~~~~~

           Tommy was fully prepared for a war when he returned home. He trudged up the stairs, going into battle, accepting the reality that he would most likely lose said battle. Ah, the duties of a husband.

           Johanna and Charlie were already asleep so he couldn’t stall. Instead, he walked down the long hallway to the bedroom. The door wasn’t locked, so Leah was welcoming him into the trenches. He wouldn’t get another night to prepare, unfortunately.

           His wife was sitting on her side of the bed, facing the window, her back turned to him.

           Cautiously, he removed his coat and holster. “Lee?” He tested the waters.

           “How did your meeting go?”

           Tommy was mildly surprised. To him, she didn’t sound angry and it was unusual for her to ask about work if she was upset. “As well as it could’ve gone, I s’pose.” He answered. “How was your day?”

           She shrugged. “I called a solicitor.”

           Fuck. He cleared his throat and moved towards the bed but stayed on his own side. “Any particular reason?”

           Leah stood and went to close the curtains. “Because I thought it was a mistake that I married you.”

           When she turned to finally face him, Tommy realized how wrong his assumptions about how the night was going to go. His wife was talking about divorce but was standing in nothing but a pastel blue lingerie set and a matching silk robe. The situation was so topsy-turvy that he was frozen in place.

           “I hung up.”

           “On the solicitor?”

           She nodded. “Because if I hadn’t married you then I wouldn’t have had our daughter. And there is no way in hell that she was a mistake.”

           Tommy was a bit relieved but still confused. “So…”

           “So, I married you because I love you. Sometimes I have no clue but I do. And even if I did divorce you, I would still love you.” She walked over to him and took his face in her hands. “Look at me.”

           “I’m looking, Lee.” He replied gently.

           “I would walk through fire for you, Tommy Shelby. I will lie and deceive and harm. I will even kill to keep my family together.” She spoke firmly, her eyes never leaving his. “So, don’t you dare do anything that intentionally tears us apart.”

           He nodded. “I promise.”

           Her severe expression softened. “Alright.”

           Sensing a breakdown of her walls, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Before the War, I wanted justice.” He pressed his forehead to hers as he spoke quietly. “This man deserves the justice I have planned for him.”

           “As long as it doesn’t hurt our family, and you come home to me I understand.” She replied. “But you need to keep your thoughts in check. I fear what might become of you if you don’t work through your own thoughts.” The haunting image of Tommy pointing a gun to his head returned.

           He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s why I need you. You clean out all the shit.”

           She laughed softly. “Muck out that big brain of yours?”

           “You’re my wife, you know best.” He murmured and picked her up.

           Leah wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him. It was so much easier to get lost in the allure that Tommy always had with her. The mysteriously powerful man who commanded every room he entered.

           For a moment, she pulled away. He instantly went to kiss her again, but she placed a finger over his lips. “This is the deal.” She whispered. Her warm breath ghosting over his neck. “The secrets between us are over. You don’t lock me out anymore.”

           His blue eyes searched her face. “Lee,”

           “You don’t lock me out anymore and I’m yours until the end of time.” She finished. “I’m yours, Tommy Shelby, as long as you’re mine completely.”

           The fear of vulnerability often plagued him. But when he was already vulnerable, moments away from intimacy, for example, he had a tendency to embrace it instead of fear it. “I’m yours and you’re mine.” He replied deeply. “Nobody touches what’s mine.”

           It was a victory in Leah’s eyes. Something she could reference if he ever tried to throw up his walls again. “Tom,” She breathed and reeled him in for a deep kiss. All she needed to do was hold the pieces together. Keep a tight grip on everything and keep them close to her chest. She would hold her ground even if the world around her was burning to ash.

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

    Charlie Shelby was positive he was dying. Spending hours in the dressmaker’s shop in Warwickshire was certain to do him in. It didn’t matter to him that they’d only been there half an hour. To the restless little boy, it felt like a lifetime.

           Ruby was contently playing on the floor with the dolls she’d gotten for her birthday a few weeks earlier.

           “Muuuuuuum.” Charlie whined and flopped over one of the chaises that decorated the back room of the shop. “I’m boooooored!”

           Leah was standing as still as she could so the shopkeeper, Harriet, could pin adjustments to the dress. She glanced back at Charlie in the mirror. “Charles, poppet, why don’t you play with your sister?”

           He made a guttural sound of discontent and buried his face into the silk pillows of the chaise.

           Leah sighed and gave Harriet an apologetic look. “Alright, go into my purse and you can get something at the candy store but you have to get something for your sister as well.”

           He leapt up like a spring and dashed for Leah’s purse to retrieve a few coins.

           “Be quick and come right back!” Leah called after him as he dashed out of the shop. She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

           Harriet, a pretty young woman, just smiled. “It’s alright. Can’t believe how big he’s gotten.” Harriet was the daughter of the dressmaker who had opened the shop. When she was learning the trade, she helped make dresses for Grace Shelby.

           “I know. They just keep growing.” Leah looked at her daughter on the floor. How long her hair had gotten. It was incredible.

           “I’ve heard of what Mr. Shelby’s doing for your birthday.” The young woman commented. “How extravagant.”

           Leah smiled sheepishly. “I told him it was a little much but he insisted.” Deep down, she was afraid he had ulterior motives for the party. But he wouldn’t exploit her own birthday, would he?

           “Well, I’m sure it’ll be quite the night.”

           “I’m hoping it’s quiet,” Leah admitted, her brow wrinkling. “That’s all I can hope for anymore.” She mumbled under her breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           There was a new hole in the ceiling of the Garrison, he was going to come into seven tonnes of opium, and he’d just seen his dead wife on a barge. Never a dull day. Tommy arrived home with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

           “Daddy!” Johanna skittered down the stairs in her pajamas. She launched herself off the last two stairs into his arms.

           “Did you escape mum, aye? You’re supposed to be in bed, Joey-bear.”  

           The little girl giggled mischievously. “Mummy’s fallen asleep.”

           Tommy frowned. Leah usually didn’t go to bed so early. She always waited until the children were asleep before she headed to bed. Sometimes she even stayed up to wait for him to come home. Checking his watch, he saw it was only nine o’clock.

           Johanna chattered on about her day at the dressmaker as Tommy carried her upstairs. He put her back to bed, despite her protests, before going to find his wife.

           Leah was fast asleep in the rocking chair in Charlie’s room. There was a book on the floor beside her, appearing to have slipped out of her hand as she fell asleep.

           Charlie was out cold as well, Cyril curled up on the foot of his bed snoring away.

           Tommy stepped inside quietly and carefully scooped Leah up in his arms. She hardly stirred, only coming to on the way to their bedroom. He nudged open the door with his hip and she began to wake.

           “Tom?”

           He smiled. “There she is. The kids wear you out today?”

           “No, I…” She stifled a yawn as he gently set her down on the bed. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. We only went to Harriet’s, didn't do much else aside from that.”

           “Hm.” He began to undress. “I thought you already got a dress for your birthday.”

           Leah slid under the sheets and got comfortable against the goose-feather pillows. “I did but it wasn’t fitting right so I had her take it out a little.”  

           “Sounds like she’s expecting again, Tommy.” Grace arrived without much warning. She appeared behind him and went to sit on the edge of the bed. “Were you expecting that?”

           Tommy swallowed and tried to keep his eyes away from the hallucination. That’s all she was. A drug-fueled vision. He hadn’t seen her on the barge. He hadn’t seen her in his office. “Are you excited for your birthday?” He asked casually.

           Leah smiled. “Well, my husband has made quite the spectacle of it, hasn’t he?” She teased.

           He chuckled and drew the curtains shut. “Only because she deserves it.” 

           “That’s the only reason? You’re not planning on anything else, are you?” Leah rolled onto her side and propped her head up, resting on her elbow.

           Tommy paused. He planned to get the check endorsed by Mosley. Planned to get Polly engaged. Planned to have Linda return to his brother. “It’s your birthday.” He spoke and turned around to face her. “That’s all I’ll be focused on.”

           “How long do you think she’ll tolerate you lying?” Grace wondered, sitting at Leah’s vanity. The sapphire had reappeared around her neck.

           Leah looked a little relieved. But she noticed her husband was tense. “How was your day?”

           “Be honest, Thomas.”

           Tommy’s jaw clenched. Grace was slowly wearing him down. He cleared his throat and shook his head. “It was fine.” He turned off the lamps and lay down next to her.

           Leah was happy to cuddle into his arms. “I love you.”

           “I love you too.”

           “Goodnight, Tommy.” Grace murmured as Tommy closed his eyes. “Maybe you’ll wake up and tell her the truth.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           “How on Earth did you get a ballet company to come to your bloody house?”

           Tommy knew he couldn’t say anything about Mosley’s failure to knock before entering his office. Not that it didn’t grind his gears. “It’s an independent dance company.” He responded curtly. “I’m a patron, I also gave them a lot of money.”

           Mosley approached the desk. “And this date is your wife’s birthday.”

           Tommy’s blood ran cold. There was no telling how much this evil man knew. What did he know about Leah? About his children? But he had to keep his cool and ignore the direct comments aimed to make him uneasy. “Yeah, the party’s for her.”

           “Well, I’ve done some research. And your wife has led an interesting life, hasn’t she?”  

           The Blinder swallowed and grit his teeth. Already he knew he was going to have

to work hard to keep his temper in check. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to her upcoming birthday.”

           The man chuckled and took a drag of his cigarette. “Well, I just wanted to avoid any uncomfortable situations before her birthday. It is an interesting past though, isn’t it? You watched her husband die in the War. Then the poor girl fled to Midland.” Mosley leaned up against the wall, facing Tommy in his desk chair. “I was a frequent customer of Midland. I’m almost certain we would’ve crossed paths once or twice.”

           The hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck stood up. “She didn’t seem to recall your name when I mentioned you.” He responded.

           Mosley looked smug. “I don’t believe it would be my name that she would remember, Mr. Shelby.”

           Tommy took a deep breath and tried to picture how Mosley would look with a bullet in his head. It was mildly comforting.

~~~~~~~~~~~

           “Oh, lovey look.” Leah had treated Johanna before she was meant to go to bed. Ahead of the party, after the dancers arrived, Leah let Johanna go outside and see their costumes as they warmed up for the performance. “Aren’t they pretty?”

           The little girl giggled shyly and clung to her mother’s leg. “Pretty.” She agreed.

           “Lee?” Tommy strode across the lawn having just arrived home. The sun was starting to set and it would be an hour or so until guests started to arrive.

           “Daddy!” Johanna squealed. “Pretty dresses!”

           He forced a smile and tousled his daughter’s hair. “Yeah? Why don’t you go say hi, Joey? Go say hi to the ballerinas.” He coaxed so he could have a moment alone with his wife. Johanna smiled and curiously wandered into the tent to greet the long-legged ballerinas who looked like fairies from the stories her mother told her and her brother.

           “Oh, Tom, she shouldn’t interrupt them.”

           “I’m paying them enough, it’s fine.” He retorted. His eyes were clearly shifty and he appeared uptight about something.

           “What’s the matter?” She asked cautiously. All day, Leah had a sinking feeling in her gut. Despite being her birthday, there was a nagging feeling that something was amiss. That her husband hadn't been honest with her when he said it was merely a party and he had no other intentions.

           He shook his head and ran a hand over his mouth. “I just…I need to tell you something later.” He mumbled.

           “Later? You can tell me now.” She urged but he had already slipped away from her.

           “I need to get ready.”

           Leah sighed and looked back at her daughter. The young lady dressed as the swan was gladly showing Johanna how to twirl about on the stage. She smiled weakly and wrapped her arms around herself. There was a chill in the air that she hadn’t expected.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe​ @evelynshelby​

Tag list: @shelbyblinded​

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #584: Enter Bowsette! (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

Ganondorf: Uhh.....

Hades: (Starts Smirking) Well, Well, Well~

Dark Samus: ....................

Mewtwo: ..........................

Ridley: (Eyes and Mouth Widened as He Starts Blushing at a Woman in a Black Dress.....Who Almost Resembles a Certain Princess) !!!......

????: (Chuckles Evilly While Doing a Fashion Pose) Surprised to see me like this, boys?~

Ridley: Uhh. (Immediately Got Up From his Seat) E-Excuse me! Gentleman, I uh....I had to uh....go outside to uhh....do stuff. (Sprints Away Towards the Mansion Door)

Ganondorf: I'm sorry, but...do we know you? Are you like..... another one of Peach's cousins or something?

????: What? No. Guys, it's me: Bowser.

Mewtwo: (Raised an Eyebrow While Crossing his Arms) If you really are Bowser, then tell me: How many children you have and what's their name?

Bowser(?): You're kidding, right? I have eight kids! Their names are Junior, Larry, Morton Jr., Wendy, Iggy, Roy, Lemmy, and Ludwig von Koopa!

Mewtwo: Hmm....I see....In that case, then tell me.... What is your thoughts on the Mushroom Kingdom's Hero, Mario and how a lot more often he has beaten you-

Bowser(?): ('Grrrrr') Fuck that Italian Plumber! Everytime I set my plans to action, he always had to fine some way around them! One of these days, I'm gonna rule that Mushroom Kingdom and beat stupid mustache loser...(Slams her (His) Fist on the Table) ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!

'Silence'

Mewtwo: ('Sigh') I believe that answers our question, gentlemen. She is really Bowser as a woman.

Bowser: Well, duh! That's what I've been telling you for the longest. Why didn't you believe me sooner?

Mewtwo: Simple. I just didn't believe that a woman, who looks exactly like the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom, or any other woman in that matter, would ever come over here and directly tell us that is she is you.

Bowser: (Shrugged) Eh. Fair point.

Ganondorf: Sooooooo......Bowser.....You mind telling us why you turned yourself into a woman in the first place?.....Or better yet how?

Bowser: Well, to answer your second question, Ganon....(Proudly Points at the Crowd He/She is Wearing on His/Her Head) I was able to have this bad boy with me!

Mewtwo: A crowd?

Bowser: Oh it's not just any crowd. This right here is a Super Crown! It allows whoever wears, turn into a literal princess.

Ganondorf: Interesting......

Dark Samus: .......................

Hades: (Chuckles Lightly) It's sounds a bit more kinky if you ask me.

Mewtwo: (Turns to Hades in a Bit of Annoyance and Disgust) Keep your disturbing fantasies to yourself, Hades.

Hades: Hey now. No need to get all fussy with yours truly, Mewwy boy. Just speaking the truth is all.

Mewtwo: (Grits his Teeth While Balling his Fist Up with Dark Magic at the God of the Underworld) Never call me that again, swine. In case you already forgotten, the only one has the privilege to call me that alone is Zelda.....

Hades: Oho! (Gives an Angry Mewtwo a Smug Look on his Face) You don't say?

Ganondorf: Calm yourselves, boys. This isn't really the time for antagonizing each other.

Bowser: Yeah! I still got a lot to tell you about this bad boy!

Hades: Why, certainly. I'll stop as long as Mewwy here calm himself down.

Mewtwo: (Starts Growling at Hades)

Bowser: Mewtwo. Don't make me get Zelda up in here.

Mewtwo: (Sighs in Defeat Before Going Back to his Previous Posture) Fine.

Bowser: Good. Now, as I was trying to say.....(Starts Grinning Evilly) I can totally use this to my advantage of winning for once!

Ganondorf: Oh really? If so, then have you come up with a plan to use it yet?

Bowser: Well, you see, I....uhh....uhhhh....('Sigh') Okay, so maybe I haven't come up with an actual plan yet.....

Hades: (Rolled his Eyes) Big surprise....

Bowser: But know this, fellas!! Once I come up with one, not only will I finally beat that stupid plumber in own game, but me, my kids, and my subjects finally reign supreme, or my name now will not be QUEEN BOWSETT-

?????: Bowser!!

Bowser: (Turns Around to See Peach Glaring at Him/Her) Oh! Uhh. Peach! (Chuckles Awkwardly) Hey! How's it going?! I-I was just.....you know.... walking around.... Hanging out with the fellas and what not.

Peach: (Points at the Super Crown on Bowser's Head)

Bowser: O-Oh! You're uh... wondering why I got this silly looking crown on my head, huh? (Chuckles Awkwardly Some More) Funny story really. You see, I-

Peach: Gimme back the crown, Bowser.

Bowser: B-But-

Peach: (Shushed Bowser to Stop Talking) Give it to me...... Now.

With a groan of defeat, Bowser (or Bowsette) finally takes the Super Crown of his head, instantly turning him back to the King Koopa he always was.

Bowser: (Gives Peach the Super Crown Back) Here.

Peach: Honestly. How many times do I have to tell you not to steal this from me and try using it for your schemes?

Hades: Wait. (Starts Chuckling) You mean to tell me this isn't the first time Koopa boy over here try to steal that crown of yours?

Peach: ('Sigh') Unfortunately..... He's been trying to steal it from me non-stop ever since I first brought it here. It's already starting to get way out of hand.

Ganondorf: Now that you mentioned it, why did you have it here in the first place?

Peach: No real reason really. I just thought it look adorable. I didn't know it had that much power in it. But since a certain King Koopa....(Glares Back at Bowser) had to go and steal for the millionth time, I guess it's for the best to put it back from where it came from.... Wherever that is. Until then, I don't want any of you to try and lay a finger on this crown. Do understand me?

Ganondorf: (Shrugged) Eh. Sure.

Hades: Whatever you say, princess.

Mewtwo: I wasn't even interested in it to begin with.....

Dark Samus: (Simply Nodded) ..............................

Bowser: (Groans While Tapping his Claws on The Table and Looking Away)

Peach: Bowser..... (Pinches Bowser's Cheek) I want you to promise me!

Bowser: (Winches in Pain) Alright! Alright! Fine! I promise I won't mess with it anymore! You have my word!

Peach: (Sighs as She Finally Let Go of Bowser's Cheek) Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go out and buy another safe. Maybe some protective security to go with it..... (Walks Away While Calling Out For Someone) Mario!Will you go shopping with me please?!~

Bowser: Well...... That's another golden opportunity thrown out the window.

Ganondorf: I'm sure you'll think of another plan to claim victory soon enough. No need to rush with one now.

Bowser: ('Sigh') Whatever......

Ridley: (Rushes Back to the Table with Bouquet of Roses While Wearing a Tuxedo) I'm back, mila- Wait. Guys, where the woman with the black dress go? D-Did she already left home or something?

Bowser: (Whispers to Hades) You guys wanna tell me or should I?

Hades: Nah. Let's not anything. (Starts Smirking Evilly) I honestly wanna see how this stupidity plays out.

Ridley: Guys, seriously, where the fuck she is?!

@keyenuta

@cyber-wildcat

@italian-love-cake

@26shann

@ma-lemons

@albion-93

@gengar-sans

@chompycroc

[fanfoolishness]

a world for the birds (3/10)

Andy DeMayo took up birding years ago, but his favorite hobby takes on new meaning when shared with his nephew Steven.

A series of looks at Andy and Steven’s growing family relationship.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

***

Chapter 3: hard work

It was a few months before Andy found his way back to Beach City again.  He couldn’t say why.  Sometimes, it felt good to be back in Delmarva.  Other times, it felt like a pair of boots he’d outgrown, a place where ghosts and memories didn’t exactly fit with Gems strolling the countryside and alien buildings rising up above the landscape.  

He’d never liked change.  It galled him, the older it got, knowing how much it bothered him.  How hard it was for him.  Like there was something inside him digging his heels in, resisting anything different as hard as it could.  It’d always been like that.

But then people like Greg, they could wander off and change their name, their life, everything.  Steven was living proof of that.  He missed them, and Aunt Deb and her partner, and the other cousins, scattered to the winds, but sometimes, it was still easier to be on his own.

So he spent a few months flying around the Southern Hemisphere, places he’d visited before, places he’d never heard of.  He took odd delivery jobs for food and lodging, traded for field guides of local birds, sent the occasional text message to family in the rare occasions he got service.  He sent Steven a blurry picture of a marvellous spatuletail (a lifer!), a Peruvian thick-knee, a tiny dot that he swore was a waved albatross.  He was gratified when Steven sent him a few amateur photos of northern cardinals and a nice one of a blue grosbeak.  

And then there weren’t any messages for a few weeks, and Andy got worried.

***

There was a lot more change than he’d expected.  

Gems and humans roamed the boardwalk of Beach City, performing construction on storefronts that looked like they’d been through a hurricane.  The grass on the lighthouse hill was patchy and bare in many places like it had been burned.  And all along the beach were rocks and patches of sand with filmy pink residue on them, caution tape strung up around them, and Gems working feverishly to clean the areas.

Andy had to argue with one particular Gem before they’d let him pass to the beach house, a towering black and white person with a face that reminded him of the sun.  “Sorry, it’s not safe for humans,” she said.  “It’s snow joke, it’s seriously toxic.”  She winked.

“Uh, right,” he said. “But look, Steven’s my nephew and he lives just around the bend.  I’m just in town to visit.  What the heck happened here?”

“Uncle Andy!” Steven called, hurrying up to him across the sand, carefully avoiding the roped off pink-stained areas.  “Oh, man, I’m so sorry you had to see this.  We’re working as hard as we can to clean it up.”  He closed the distance and catapulted himself into a hug with Andy.

Andy patted him on the head.  Had he grown a little more?  He looked different, a black t-shirt today instead of a blue one, shadows under his eyes.  “You okay, kid?”

“Thanks, Snowflake,” said Steven.  “I’ll keep him safe.”

“You got it,” said Snowflake, leaving them alone.  Andy watched the massive Gem walk off, shaking his head.  Maybe this was one of the former monster Gems Steven had been talking about.  She certainly looked less like a normal hippie than the rest of Steven’s family.

“So what happened?  I stopped hearing from you and your dad for a while --”

Steven rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.  “Ugh.  Everything’s been a mess.  Basically it turns out that not everyone agreed the Gem war was over.  A Gem my mom hurt came to Earth to try to destroy it.  We stopped her, mostly, but she still did a lot of damage.”

“Looks like you and your people are fixing it, though.  That’s good, right?” Andy asked uncertainly.  He listened for the sound of gulls and terns on the air, but all he heard was the breeze and the waves.  He let out a long sigh.  

Steven yawned.  He really did look exhausted, his hair mussed, his clothes rumpled.  “The Gems are taking care of the areas where there’s still detectable bio-poison, but I can’t help with that part.  It hurts me, too.  But once an area’s clean --”  He spotted a patch of bare soil beside them.  He licked his hand, then knelt and pressed it to the dirt.

“Uh, Steven --”

The bare soil sprouted over with green and olive moss, shimmering in the sunlight as it grew before his eyes.  “Once it’s clean, that’s where I come in,” said Steven, sounding both proud and tired.  He straightened up, stretching as he did so.  “I’m the only one with healing powers, so, you know, it’s a lot of work.  I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” he said.

Andy crossed his arms, staring at the long stretch of beach, the patchy hillside.  “You gotta do all this?”

“Yeah,” said Steven blankly.

“But it wasn’t even your fault.”

“So?”

Andy tried to figure out the words. You’re just a kid probably wouldn’t go over well.  He tried a variation.  “Don’t you got your own stuff to do?  You shouldn’t have to do all this work.  Not at your age.”

“But I’m the only one who can fix it,” said Steven, a stubborn note creeping into his voice.

“How many hours a day are you doin’ this?  Healing the earth?” Andy asked, trying to sound casual.

“Pretty much as soon as I get up until it gets dark,” said Steven.  “There’s so much to do.  All the Gems are helping with reconstruction and removing the poison, and I have to do my part, too.”

“Didn’t you say once Gems don’t even sleep?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Steven defensively.  “Look, I said I would protect the Earth, and it almost got destroyed on my watch.  This is my duty as a Crystal Gem!”  He was flushed, his cheeks pink, one hand splayed over the star on his chest.

Andy opened his mouth, then closed it again.  Okay, sure, he had to believe him if the kid said he was the only one with this kind of magic, however it all worked.  But still.  It bugged him how much the kid looked like Greg right now.

Greg, who got more and more quiet during summers at the barn.  Greg, who’d been grim and resentful that last summer, constantly fighting with his parents.  Greg, who never came back.

There’d been a lot of reasons, he’d learned more recently, that Greg had left them all.  This wasn’t exactly the same.  But something about Steven’s pinched face and his narrowed eyes made him look so much like his dad, and Andy’s stomach clenched.

“Look, kid, I -- this is all over my head,” said Andy.  “Just try to be careful.  Okay?  You seem worn out.  Don’t forget you’re part of the Earth, too.”  

Steven’s face relaxed, then creased in a smile.  “I know, Uncle Andy.  Thanks.”  He sighed.  “I still have to do a lot of work today.  But my dad’s probably free if you want to hang.”

“I’ll go swing by and see if he wants to grab a bite,” said Andy.  “Maybe you can join us for dessert or something, huh?”

Steven stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.  “Um, maybe.  But the ice cream place has been closed down after… after all this happened.”

“Oh.  Right.”

“Don’t worry about me, seriously,” said Steven.  “Your next visit, everything’s gonna be back to normal.  I promise.”  He flashed him another grin, and headed back down the beach, his shoulders hunched.

***

Andy pushed his crab cake around on his plate, watching it crumble and flake.  Good chunks of crab in there, only the barest minimum of bread needed to keep it shaped.  It was decent stuff.  Too bad he was hardly hungry.  He took another drink of his beer, a crisp lager.  

“So this crazy Gem almost blew up your town?  And the Earth?” asked Andy.

Greg took a drink of his own pint, searching for words.  “Well, to hear Steven tell it, she wasn’t crazy.  Just in a lot of pain.  He had a lot of compassion for her.  It probably saved his life.”

“Well, hell,” said Andy.  “Does this kind of thing happen often?   I mean, he really could have died, it sounds like.”

Greg nodded, letting out a long breath.  “I got hit with that poison myself.  I think it actually killed my arm.  Thank goodness for Steven’s healing powers; it’s good as new.”  He flexed his fist.  “Gem stuff’s dangerous.  It always has been.”

“But how does Steven always get mixed up in it?  I mean, you and me, we ain’t got any magic powers to protect him with, but what about his Gem family?” Andy asked.  “You can’t tell me out of all them alien ladies that none of them can fight.”

Greg chuckled, taking a bite from his stuffed blue crab.  “Oh, they can fight. But sometimes they’re just plain outmatched.  Rose’s family, the Diamonds, they’re literally over fifty feet tall. Each.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Promise I’m not.  One of them picked me up like I was a toy in the palm of her hand, and kidnapped me to a human zoo in space,” said Greg, nonchalantly taking another drink.  “Steven and the Gems had to rescue me.  Good thing they did, too, since I accidentally started a riot because I wouldn’t say yes to an arranged marriage in the zoo.”

“Greg!  What the hell!”

Greg shrugged.  “I’ve seen a lot of weird shit, Andy.”

Andy laughed.  “Shoot, Greg, that’s what I always liked about you.  Always letting stuff roll right off your back.  Does anything ever bother you?”

He knew the answer, though.  Remembered Greg’s mom and dad, sweet like pie until he saw them chewing out Greg behind the barn, grinding him down with cruel calm words that weren’t even proper yelling.  He’d seen how those words stuck to Greg, a corrosive poison all its own.

He remembered it, but didn’t mention it.

Greg answered him. “What can I say?  It’s a gift.  So what’s been going on with you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual.  Flyin’ around wherever the wind takes me.  Spent some time in South America for a couple months.  Chilly this time of year south of the Equator, but that’s okay.  I like the winter weather.  It’s quiet, except when it’s fierce as hell,” said Andy.  “Sometimes I just need time to myself, you know?”

“I know,” said Greg.  He smiled, taking another drink.  “You were always like that as a kid.  We’d be playing some loud crazy game and you’d be off by yourself, grumping about how loud our made-up songs were.”

“Did not,” protested Andy.

“Nah, you did.”

“Well, so what?  Nothing wrong with alone time.”

“C’mon, like I can talk,” said Greg.  “I’m the one who ran off and changed my name, aren’t I?  Guess I really needed some alone time.”  He leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.  “I’m really glad we reconnected, Andy.  I just wish I’d looked for you after Steven was born.  I tried writing my folks, but…. They never wrote back. I kinda assumed the rest of the family didn’t want anything to do with us, either.”

“Your folks are stuck-up snobs, though,” said Andy, taking a bite of his crab cake, some of his appetite returning.  “It always surprised me, how they had a kid like you.  Not that you were a bad kid.  Just different.  My mom and dad never really got on with them, but they always made the effort because they thought maybe you and me could be friends.”

“Heh.  Thanks, Andy.  I used to wish sometimes I could’ve had your folks for parents instead.  They were good people.  At least they would have wanted to meet their grandson.”  Greg finished his ale, gazing at the waves behind Andy.  

“Your folks are missin’ out,” said Andy.  “You got a good kid, Greg.  Though I worry about him a little.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.  I mean, maybe it’s nothing,” said Andy hastily, not wanting to step on any toes.  “Like I said, he’s a good kid.  He puts up with me and my birds and all.  I think he’s even birding on his own sometimes.  How neat is that?  But I saw him at the beach today and it seems like he’s runnin’ himself ragged.”

“I know,” said Greg, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands.  “I’m so proud of him, Andy.  Like I said, if it wasn’t for his compassion, I think the Earth would have been toast.  He’s so kindhearted.  But on the other hand, he works so hard.  Harder than I’ve ever worked at anything, except maybe raising him.  I know he didn’t have a normal childhood, and I didn’t want him to, but… I do wonder sometimes, how does he do it?”

“How does he?”

“I don’t know,” said Greg, and they fell into a silence, the waves soft and distant in the background.

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

Here it is! The garden party! What will happen in the secluded hedge maze...?

M/M Romance, Arranged Marriage  - Also available on AO3

Chapter 5: The Garden Party

Excerpt:  "Would you like me to lift you up a few feet so you can see better?" Henry appeared next to me, chuckling.

I got ready for the weekend's garden fete with some excitement. No longer was I the grumpy cuff shackled on the wrist of an unwanted suitor. I was on the hunt for replacements. Since I would be going as an observer, I decided against bright colors, opting instead for a light brown overcoat and trousers, a shorter hat, with an ivory shirt. A matching light brown handkerchief and emerald green cufflinks completed the ensemble. I was just fine enough to be acceptable as Henry's fiance, and just unobtrusive enough to be able to mingle.

My parents climbed aboard the carriage and we were off. It was little more than a fifteen minute drive to the large estate, and having been there recently I knew what to expect when we headed up the drive.

I was wrong. The front gardens had been transformed for the summer feat. The hedges were clipped into magnificent shapes, and flower garland was strung and twisted onto colorful poles. Servants rushed about, serving drinks to all the guests as they entered the mansion. I sat in the carriage a moment longer, overwhelmed at the spectacle.

"Philip." My mother called less-than-patiently from the ground. Then "Oh!"

I looked down quickly. Henry looked up at me with a large smile on his face and his hand held out. His tailor had earned his pay. Royal blue trousers hugged his legs, showing off their musculature, and a tailed royal blue coat trimmed in gold wrapped around his broad shoulders, ending in elaborate, gold-stitched cuffs over a snowy white shirt. His eyes were brought out by the colors and they shone in the growing evening light. Even I, who was determined not to like him, had to be impressed.

I took his offered hand and allowed him to escort me from the coach. The gathered crowd had paused to watch the spectacle, the light brown and ivory pigeon being helped down by his fiance, the peacock. It was laughable. Arm in arm we walked up the drive, Mother sighing spectacularly. I resolved all the more to find him a more suitable match. We were unfit for each other in every way.

And I didn't want him.

We wove through the crowds, exchanging greetings with the guests. I could feel my face getting red and I attempted to get away a few times, but each time was pulled back by Henry's firm grasp on my forearm.

"If we stay linked like this the whole evening, I daresay I won't have a spare chance to find you another suitable match." I whispered up to him.

He chuckled. "You'll get your chance. But until then you are here as my fiance and we must keep up appearances."

I wanted to add that such a spectacle would make it all the more awkward when we split from one another, but I refrained, instead pasting on a charmed smile and following Henry around the banquet. Inside was even more glamorous than out. Massive chandeliers gleaming with candles lit the hall and a grand set of steps carpeted in burgundy led the way up to the ballroom. Inside, couples danced, their reflections jumping at them from the floor to ceiling windows, and long tables covered in snow-white linen held all manner of delicacies, from sugared fruit and chocolates to towering cakes iced in the bright colors of spring, draped in flowers. It was truly a magnificent show.

I tore my eyes from the refreshment to assess the people in the room. My eye caught onto a few young men that passed first glance requirements--they were handsome, the right age, dressed well. I made a note of which ones to engage in conversation throughout the evening. One, a young dandy who I'd never seen before, seemed especially suited. I took a step toward him when Henry pulled me to the dance floor.

"Would you do me the honors, Philip?"

I tugged at my wrist. "Henry, I may have found just the one, give me five minutes."

His brow furrowed, but he released me. "Of course."

I made my way across the room, nodding at friends as I made eye contact with them. The young man was talking to Sir Rond, who was making quite the spectacle of himself for a forty year old married man. His scowling wife, standing a few paces away, seemed to agree. The young man in question was taller than I was, and better muscled. He was blond and green eyed, and his clothes accentuated that, a forest green ensemble with tan leather accents and a tall hat. The effect was dashing.

I held out my hand to him. "Sir Philip Mallory."

He smiled at me. "Sir Edmond Ray, at your service."

A nobleman! I silently cheered myself. "I haven't seen you locally before, are you visiting? New to town?"

He nodded. "Visiting my cousin. I haven't been here for very long but I already adore your little shire, it's so charming and warm. And the views in the evenings are stunning!"

I laughed. "To be sure. I'm sure your wife or husband would be quite happy here, you need only bring them down to see."

He chuckled. "I'm sure they would, if they existed. I'm unattached." He winked at me, letting me know he knew exactly why I had been asking. I blushed. It had been transparent. But not for my sake. He held out a hand "Might I have the honor of enjoying the next dance with you?" His smile froze at the last word, and his face was still for a moment before lighting up. I knew before turning who stood behind me.

"Sir Ray, this is Henry Shawdun. Henry, this is Sir Edmond Ray."

Henry's eyes lit up. "Edmond? By God, I didn't recognize you at first, what brings you here?"

Ray's smile rendered me unnecessary to this conversation. "Henry, you old dog, I saw your family name in the invitation. I hoped you would be here!" They gave each other firm slaps on the back and immediately fell into reminiscing about the old days. Not a spark of romance flashed between them. I sighed. One down. And he had looked so promising. So long as Henry was engaged in catching up with good ol' Sir Ray, I was free to seek out other potential suitors. Nodding in their distracted direction, I hastened back outside.

Sir Roland Maxry immediately caught my eye. His family's wealth was also on the decline. Rumor indicated that he was in talks with a number of nouveau riche about potential marriages. He would no doubt be delighted for the opportunity to catch a man like Henry. I hastened to him.

"Roland!"

He turned, sandwich halfway to his mouth, and saw me. "Philip. Enjoying your new family's prosperity I imagine?" His grin was acid. A man after my man, huh? He's yours.

I grinned. "How could I not? Henry and I were actually thinking of holding a show of bravery in the hedge maze tonight. I refuse to walk with him since we've already done it together numerous times, and he is in search of a partner. Might you oblige us?"

Roland grinned, his teeth barred. "I would be honored."

I smiled at him once more, then hastened inside to inform Henry of what to expect.

As I reentered the ballroom, I immediately spotted Edmond, once again being assailed by Sir Rond and some of his associates. But Henry was nowhere to be seen. I stood on the tips of my toes, trying to see over the heads of all the dancers. My lesser height was no help in situations like these.

"Would you like me to lift you up a few feet so you can see better?" Henry appeared next to me, chuckling.

I scowled. "You can mock, you have height to spare."

"I just offered to lend you some, did I not?"

"No matter. Henry, tonight at the maze challenge, you will walk through with Sir Roland Maxry."

"Why?"

I turned to him impatiently. "To check if his coat matches the roses, you dunce!"

He laughed outright at that, his eyes seemingly larger when matched with his coat. This Godforsaken ensemble, I really must shake his tailor by the hand..! "You want me to see if he is an eligible match? You do move quickly, Sir Mallory."

"The sooner we are free of each other the better." I told him decisively. "I hope to have at least ten gentlemen lined up for you to sample before the night is out.

His eyes darkened. "Would you so accost me at my own banquet?"

I smiled at him impishly. "It's the only reason I didn't beg sickness to avoid this feat in the first place."

His mouth quirked, but his eyes were no longer smiling. They regarded me seriously for a few moments, though I couldn't figure out what it was Henry was looking for. I looked away.

"Fine." Then his hand grasped mine. "But if you are to punish me, it is only fair that I return the favor." Once again, his hand pulled me to the dance floor. "Dance with me."

I tugged against his hold. "How am I to line up ten worthy gentlemen if I am whirling about the floor with you?"

His grin restored, he pulled me against him and drew me into a waltz. "You set that lofty goal, Philip, I'm confident you'll find a way to do both."

After the waltz, Henry pulled me into a quatrain, and after that a foxtrot. It was fun dancing with him. I was a fair dancer, having practiced in school with the rest of the young men of my standing, but nothing special. He was the superior dancer, and as such, took the lead. As he caught my eye for a grin and swept me around the floor, I found myself wishing for only a moment that I could lead him just the once, sweep him away, be the reason for that sparkling smile.

And I would be. As a friend, once we were no longer shackled to each other. When Henry tried to pull me into a second waltz, I begged off, catching the eye of another young gentleman and all but throwing him into Henry's arms.

And there is two.

Eight to go.

By the time we had arrived at the hedge maze, the last event of the evening, I had only found two more eligible gentlemen, a Sir Isaac of Brent and Lord Gentry Schilts. Either one had plenty of potential--looks, manner, nobility, and a deficit of funds . All qualities agreeable with marrying into new money. I had arranged for one to accompany Henry to the horse races tomorrow afternoon, and the other would walk with him in the park come morning. To each I had fashioned a suitable excuse for why I couldn't be there and why poor Henry required the company. They were agreeable to the arrangement--another point in their favor. After each appointment was made, I hastened to Henry's side, informing him of the arrangement. Each time, he would look at me in that same searching manner, and nod quietly, before hastening off to attend to another guest. In our year of knowing each other, he had never acted toward me with such distance and it was confusing that it should come now, when we were more in agreement than ever before. I shrugged it off--surely he was simply tired from the long night or some such and would be recovered to his regular good spirits after a full night's rest. I prayed his distant manner wouldn't ruin things between him and Sir Roland.

With this in mind, I approached the hedge maze. True to his word, Henry was waiting in line with Sir Roland on his arm, the latter giggling madly at something and stealing covert glances at the whole crowd, as though waiting to see if they also agreed the two were a good match. I grinned, satisfied, and proceeded to find a seat among the spectators.

Someone caught my arm. "Would you do me the honors of accompanying me through the maze?" I looked up into Sir Edmund's green eyes.

I smiled at him. He seemed the friendly sort, even if he wasn't a suitable match. "I would be honored, Sir Edmond. Though I warn you, my sense of direction is appalling."

"Fortunate then that mine is compass precise." He grinned and tucked my hand into the crook of his arm. Together we entered the line. I watched as three couples ahead of us, Henry and Roland were given the go-ahead and vanished behind the tall walls of green. Soon enough, it was our turn. The man in charge of the maze looked between Edmond and I with a raised eyebrow, but shrugged, then waved us through.

It immediately became darker as we entered. I was okay with close spaces and so wasn't alarmed. I did feel lost as soona s we turned a corner. "You know where we are, correct?"

Edmond smiled. "We've barely moved five meters. The entire path is purportedly 78 meters until the end." His hand tightened over my wrist. "Which ought to give me ample time to get to know my old schoolmate's fiance."

I chuckled awkwardly. "You seem close, the two of you. A better match than he and I, surely."

He laughed outright at that. "Not an ounce of romantic feeling between us, I'm afraid, though I agree we make a pretty picture. But back to you," his voice lowered, "Henry tells me you are having trouble settling into a marriage."

So Henry had told this old schoolmate everything. "It's not marriage that's the issue here, though it is an issue, it's just Henry."

"Something about Henry Shawdun does not match your standards?" his tone had gone cold.

"No! No, nothing of the kind! The whole situation is so... I have no choice in the matter. No one asked me 'Hullo Philip, would you like to get married?' Nothing! No 'How about you exchange your body for your father's gambling debts?’'' I froze, embarrassed that I had let that out. "I... Oh blast it, you would have heard anyway.'' My hand tightened on Edmond's arm and I stalked forward through the maze. "I do not want to be shackled into a marriage with anyone! I am not my parents' last asset to trade away!"

"I see." Edmond appeared thoughtful. "But you told me it was Henry that was the issue here."

"He is!" I stopped where I was walking and turned to face him. "Both of us are trapped in this, not just myself, but I am alone in fighting it! When we first met, after the wedding contract was signed, I was ready to scheme with him a thousand ways to break up the engagement, but he just kissed my hand, smiled, and said 'Nice to meet you at last'!" I threw my hands up in frustration. "Useless!"

Edmond considered me silently. In the failing light, it was impossible to tell what expression was on his face. "Maybe he is not as opposed to the match as you are?"

"He should be! I am far from the most eligible man in the city, he can do far better. And it's the principal of the thing as well, the lack of choice."

"Did you ever consider if maybe he needs this marriage for reasons of his own?"

"We spoke about it. He needs my title. If I can find him another suitable match, he promised to break it off. You can imagine my disappointment when you turned out to be back-slapping, hearty friends and nothing more."

Edmond laughed at that. "And that's why he entered the maze with Sir Roland."

I looked up at him. "Do you think it's a good match?"

"I think they will not be able to survive the maze together, forget the rest of their lives. Roland is vain and, quite frankly, annoying."

"How rude!" Then I raised my eyebrows. "But I am annoying too! Maybe it doesn't matter."

Edmond laughed harder at that. "You are charming, Philip. A bit of a fool, I think, if you consider Henry and Roland a good match, but charming."

I sighed. "I'm really not. I'm quite awful when I put my mind to it. Last week--" I stopped. I suddenly didn't want to admit what I'd tried to do to Henry last week, or how badly it had failed.

"Henry told me about your parlor party gone wrong." Edmond said quietly. "Quite the vile thing you attempted there."

I nodded silently. "I know. I feel terrible for having attempted it. but I just feel so... trapped. I do, just looking at him. He'll come to visit, we'll go somewhere nice. He'll take my arm, smile down at me... and I can't breathe. All in want is to get away."

Edmond clicked his tongue sympathetically. "That's the trouble with arranged marriages. It's a shame, really. I think if you and Henry had met under different circumstances, you might have become the staunchest of lovers."

I shrugged. "Maybe. But that is neither here nor there." I brightened as a thought occurred to me. "You wouldn't happen to know of any eligible sorts for Henry, would you? Perhaps an old school friend?"

There was  rustle to our right, and a large shadow made its way toward us. "Pick a name, Edmond. Anyone would be better than Roland." Henry himself approached.

"Henry!" Edmond brightened up. "Any names come to mind?"

"Young Sivac might do the trick," Henry's tone was teasing, "He seemed to be interested in me back in the day."

"Back luck, Shawdun, he's been married two years now and a son on the way."

"Surely not!" Henry seemed genuinely delighted. "You must send my heartiest congratulations next time you see him!"

"Henry!" I interrupted impatiently. "How was your walk with Sir Roland?"

He turned back to me. "Dreadful. Not an original idea in his mind, except to pull me behind the nearest statue and claim scandal. Almost as bad as Lady Evelyn, that one." He reached out for me. "Do you truly feel so trapped by my side?"

I turned my head to Edmond, uncomfortable at having been overheard. "Um, we can talk about this later.."

"You seemed comfortable enough telling my friend all about it." His tone was dark. "Is it true?"

"...Yes." I whispered.

"Then when I am standing right here in front of you and you are all I see, you feel trapped by our arrangement?" He stepped in even closer, arms closing around my back. "When we are at a lovely party and I turn down to smile at you, you can't breathe?"

I nodded in the dark.

"Answer me."

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't answer. His soft coat brushed against my bare forearms, his hands branding my back where they held me. His voice was a low rasp, and his warmth overwhelmed me.

"Yes." I choked out.

He was silent for a moment. "I see." He released me then, and I breathed in relief, then paused. What am I relieved about?  I looked around. Sir Edmond had left us alone. Henry sighed, then directed us to the path. "I look forward to meeting the two young men you have set me up with tomorrow. Truly, they couldn't be worse than Roland was."

[florafey]

The Tipping Point - Snippet 3

This is just 4,336 words of me extrapolating on my characters and their personalities and a little more of the noble, upper-class culture they live in. We get full names, as well. 

For clarity, this scene is set five years before the majority of the story takes place, so the main characters are quite a bit younger in this scene than they “actually” are. In this scene they are teenagers; they are anywhere from 19 to 25 in the “present time”. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Five Years Ago : 206 Annum Effugium (A.E)

The sun was shining, therefore the children were excited. 

“Don’t run down the stairs, Wynona. You will trip over your dress and find out how hard that marble is.” Duchess Gallio prided herself on being the epitome of a perfect, well-bred lady of status, and therefore did not raise her voice at her young daughter. Winnie, barely six, did not yet care about being a lady and did not heed her mother. She knew a stronger scolding wouldn’t come, anyways. 

Thea, arm in arm with Iona, was just as happy as Winnie about the weather, though Thea knew better than to run down the palace staircase without first lifting the hem of her dress. She watched with amusement as Winnie’s skirts caught around her ankles and made the girl stumble and slow down. 

It was mid-April and the cold front had just broken. It had been a hard winter. Nearly seven months of snow, frost, blistering wind, and chilly drafts that occasionally seeped through even the palace walls. Thea hated the cold and everything that came with it. She preferred the spring dresses with their loose skirts that didn’t weigh nearly as much as she herself did, she preferred the street festivals she was allowed to attend and even those she wasn’t, and she much preferred day-long picnics spent outside in the sun. While Duke Kaiso spun the most magnificent tales in front of the fire, Thea would still take grass stained knees and bouts of wrestling that made her mother shriek. 

Winnie amazedly reached the bottom of the long staircase without knocking her teeth out. When she spotted Thea, she grinned and didn’t slow her run into the other girl’s arms. Iona cooed at Winnie as Thea propped her on her hip and made her way out into the palace’s sprawling garden. The sun was out and so were the birds, the butterflies, the bugs, and the troublemakers. 

“Now, Winnie, if you eat lemon cakes today, take care not to get any on that gorgeous dress of yours,” Thea said. She knew Winnie would attack the plate of lemon cakes the moment she saw them without any regard for her words, but she said it nonetheless. 

“Momma says I won’t be allowed to eat lemon cakes today.” Winnie sounded distressed. Her little hands were tangled in Thea’s curls. Thea turned a sympathetic look on Winnie and said, “Well, then you’ll just have to spend the whole afternoon with me. How awful.”

Winnie squealed and clapped her hands, simultaneously tugging Thea’s hair. Iona laughed and steered them over to where the rest of the noble families were sitting. 

It was a large picnic. Nearly every member of the seven noble families were there. The first picnic of the year was always the biggest, symbolizing unity between the houses and a celebration of the breaking of winter. 

Thea’s parents, Duke and Duchess Fontaine were seated next to their closest friends and Iona’s parents, Duke and Duchess Tithonius. Iona’s older brother, Cicero, was nowhere to be seen. Judging from how the Duke Kaiso’s only son, Adonias, was also missing, Thea assumed the two were off somewhere beating teeth out of each other. They knew by now to take their arguments far from everyone else. The Tithonius’ cousins, the Anatolious family, sat under a nearby tree with their only daughter, Valerie. Valerie was speaking to Winnie’s older brother, Matthias Gallio, and was giving him a grin almost as sharp as her eyes. Twins Ruth and Wren Dexion were engaged in a playful game with each other and seemed to be trying to convince a young teenage boy to join them. Freiderich Augustus Quintilla was fourteen but looked twelve. He was only a head or two taller than Ruth, who was currently wrapped around his leg, cackling. Freiderich was clutching a book and looked for all the world like he might pass out. His pale skin stood out against his red-blond curls that only added to his youthfulness. 

From besides Thea, Iona gave a shuttered sigh. 

“Where is my brother?” She grumbled. “Father is going to tan him for not being here.”

Thea set down a squirming Winnie, who ran off to join Ruth and Wren in attacking Freiderich. “I’m sure Cicero had every intention of coming, Iona. Adonias probably caught him in the hall and started running that mouth of his.”

Iona couldn’t stop the smile that flickered on her mouth. “For having grown up together, you would think they would have learned how to get along,” she mused, taking a seat on the warm grass. Thea sat and stretched her legs out. 

“I don’t pretend to understand them. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yes, please. I can’t stand the two of them. Always at each other’s throats. When was the last time you were in town?”

“Not since I went with you last week. Why?”

“Oh, Madame Ahr-Yusa put out the most gorgeous display of dresses a few days ago in time for the new season. They’re to die for, you’re going to melt when you see them!”

The two girls fell into an easy stream of conversation over the next hour concerning the latest fashions arriving in the capitol with the spring season. After Madame Ahr-Yusa’s gowns were discussed it was the hats from Madame Ingrid and then the daggers from Master Quell’s shop, famous for their ability to never dull. Being trained to fight was a lesson the noble families of the Cerulean Isles did not fail to teach their children, for the palace could often be the most dangerous place to live. But while the young boys learned to fight with broadswords and fists, the young ladies were taught to take lives whilst in corsets and heeled shoes. 

Thea, despite her mother’s wishes, had ensured her education was as well-rounded as she could. Upon hearing her wishes to learn how to swordfight, Cicero had handed Thea his broadsword, which she had quickly found to be much too heavy. So she had commissioned a sword to be made to fit her. It was thinner, lighter, and laid in her hand perfectly. It had taken her almost a full month to get even the most basic movements mastered whilst in a gown, but she was making steady progress. She subsequently felt as though she had provided Cicero with four weeks’ entertainment as he watched her struggle with the balance between her dress and sword. If she hadn’t thought his laughter had cracked a few of his ribs, she probably would have attempted to do it herself. 

The girls ate with Valerie and discussed the upcoming festival, the first of the season. Valerie often took advantage of festivals to buy as many unique knives as she could, but Thea found herself drawn more to the entertainment and the music. Thea had seen Valerie’s collection of sharp rings, and was surprised to know that Matthias Gallio was still trying to court her. Val was currently wearing one of her weapons, a thin, strong piece of metal that glinted at her knuckle and exposed a razor-sharp blade when her finger curled  in. 

But for all her danger, Valerie Clementine Anatolious knew how to be a perfect lady. She could dance for hours in a tightly-laced corset and never lose her breath. She could balance a stack of books on her head while walking down the stairs. She could make her voice heard without raising it, and she could make Thea double over in laughter with the slightest quip. Thea liked her very much. 

In the middle of the girls’ conversation about the festival in two weeks, Friederich Quintilla managed to finally slip away from Winnie and the Dexion twins and loped over in time to hear a few words.

“The Vernal Festival? The weather should be good, it seems. Unless we get an unexpected cold front in which case we may have some rain, but…” He was suddenly aware of all three girls staring at him and trailed off self-consciously, “...but it’s highly unlikely…” he swept his red-blond curls off his forehead but they needed a trim and fell back into his eyes. Friederich was three years younger than Thea and Iona, and four years younger than Valerie. Thea didn’t know him all that well; he took all his lessons with the prince and His Majesty’s private tutor. Duchess Quintilla, his mother, was a woman to rival Duchess Gallio. Prim, proper, fragile. Spoiled, overprotective, overbearing. Thea was often distracted whenever Duchess Quintilla was in the same room as her, the diamonds the Duchess wore were cut so sharply that they sparkled even at night. 

To ease Friederich’s embarrassment, Thea inquired, “What book are you reading, Friederich? Let me see.” 

The boy handed it over and sat in the grass next to her. Thea was delighted to see it was written by a man named Isaac Von Hue. A few of his novels sat in her own room. 

“You read Von Hue as well?” She asked. “I only just finished The Paper Lantern. How did you come across him?”

“The prince, actually.” Where anyone else Friederich’s age might have boasted this, Friederich almost lowered his voice to draw less attention to the fact that he was so close with the young heir. “His Grace learned to read using books by Von Hue and Ryner and Pav...Pavlish…”

“Pavilishchev,” Thea supplied. 

“Yes, thank you. Anyways, he suggested this one to me quite a while ago and I’m embarrassed to say that I never read it sooner only because it didn’t seem very intriguing.”

Thea had to laugh. “Just because he is the prince doesn’t mean you have to agree with his literary tastes.”

“Still, I was hesitant. I don’t fancy adventure novels or daring rescues.”

“Well, has Von Hue changed your mind? You’re nearly done with this book so it seems he might have.”

Friederich thought about it, then shrugged. “Perhaps. I’m not quite sure. What book of his did you say you had just finished? Maybe I’ll try that one next.” “The Paper Lantern,” Thea smiled. “It’s my favorite of his so far. There’s a lot to be said for the battling of wills between the ruling patriarchy and the strong minds of the women underneath it. When you’ve read it, I would love to discuss it with you.”

Val, only hearing Thea’s last sentence, leaned over Thea’s lap and said, “Don’t take her up on that, she’ll talk a whole day and night away.”

Thea made an indignant noise and shoved Val away from her. Val tugged on Thea’s hair with a sharp smile and went back to her conversation with Iona. 

“I’m pleasantly surprised to find you read as much as I do,” Friederich said. “I’ll come to you when-”

They were interrupted a second time when two figures strode leisurely into the garden. One had short, fair hair, and a set of bright green eyes. He was tall and broad chested and currently spinning a wooden sparring staff in his left hand. A very familiar smirk was twisting his mouth into something arrogant and borderline rude. Adonias Montague Kaiso. Twenty years old; three years older than Thea and the eldest of all the noble children. Thea’s interactions with Adonias were limited to pleasant greetings in passing or during lessons, and the few times he picked arguments with her to either see how sharp her claws were or for an excuse to take Cicero to the ground again. Adonias had soon learned, however, that picking fights with Thea weren’t worth it; she always knew what he was doing and very rarely rose to the bait. 

The young man behind Adonias was only two years his junior. He contrasted Adonias astoundingly, in both looks and behavior. This man’s hair was a red-brown color and hung in loose waves to his shoulders. Half of it was tied back with a strap of leather. His eyes were amber and his brows dark, his skin dark enough to show that at least one of his parents was not native to the Isles. He was slightly taller than Adonias and just as broad, but strode into the garden with his hands slipped casually inside his pockets. Cicero Caspian Tithonius. The second eldest of all the noble children and the instigator of half of all the fights between him and the eldest. 

Iona seemed relieved to see her brother finally show up. Thea was relieved to see that neither man seemed to have been fighting the other as of late. It was a rare occasion that Cicero and Adonias had a civil conversation, but it did occasionally happen. Perhaps it was due to the formal clothing they currently wore. 

Adonias propped his sparring staff onto his shoulder to bow to his mother and the Duchess Quintilla. He accepted the food they offered and Thea heard him smoothly apologize for his tardiness. Adonias was almost as adept as Valerie in walking the line between being an outright aggressor and a noble. 

Thea heard Cicero acknowledge his father with a perfunctory, “Sir,” before moving to kiss his mother’s cheek and sit besides her. Duchess Tithonius was a stunning woman with bright eyes and dark skin. She had left Tasnia when she had met and married the Duke, and bore his children only months after their marriage. She was very nearly a second mother to Thea. Her accent was much thicker than either Cicero’s or Iona’s and she often sang in her native language, her voice melodic and winding and something Thea knew to be unique to her country’s people. 

Winnie chose this time to get bored with the Dexion twins. “Thea! Come find rocks with me!” Her once-white gown was already grass stained around the hem. Thea didn’t know what Duchess Gallio had expected. 

Thea held up Friederich’s book to show Winnie she was currently occupied. Winnie pouted and called, “But you promised!”

Thea had not, but she returned Friederich his book and went to join Winnie in the warm grass. 

“Where is your puppy, Thea? Can she come play?” Winnie picked up a handful of rocks, deemed them unworthy, and threw them down again. 

“Clover? She’s probably sleeping on my bed right now. There’s a lovely patch of sun that lands right on my pillow around noon.”

Winnie giggled. “She’s sleeping? But it’s not morning anymore.”

“Oh, she’s a lazy thing. Maybe after the picnic you can come with me to wake her up.” 

Thea allowed Winnie to hand her the rocks she wanted to keep, knowing the girl would forget all about them the moment her mother called her over to eat. But it was Matthias who fetched his sister, not the Duchess. 

“Come along, Winnie. Don’t you want lunch?” Matthias held his hand out towards his sister and she grabbed his fingers. Matthias Gallio was only a few months older than Thea and she was under the impression that he was the most proper young noble out of all of them. He was well trained how to fight but not to the indecent extent that Cicero or Adonias had been. He was just as likely to be dancing or reading or making sure his unruly little sister didn’t knock over anything valuable. Which, in the palace, was nearly everything you could touch. 

Thea returned to Iona and Valerie to find they had saved her a few bites of lunch. 

“I was thinking we could walk down to the river,” Iona said, looking that direction and shielding her eyes from the sun. “It isn’t too warm for a walk.”

Thea hummed in agreement around a bite of lemon cake. She understood why Winnie liked them so much. “I’ll go with you. Will you come, Valerie?”

“Oh, perhaps.” Val adjusted her silver skirts. “I doubt my mother would be pleased if I decided to steal Adonias’ sparring staff and go a few rounds with him.”

“I’d give anything to see that,” Thea said honestly. “My coin would be on you, too. Speaking of Adonias, we should ask the boys to come.”

“Let’s not,” Iona protested. “They’ll simply bicker the whole time.” “They aren’t that bad. And besides, it’ll be more fun with them.”

“We aren’t fun enough for you, Thea?” Valerie feigned hurt. 

Thea rolled her eyes and stood up, brushing invisible crumbs from her bodice. “I won’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to incriminate myself.” She left the girls and made her way across the lawn to where Cicero was engaged in light conversation with his mother. The Countess’ eyes lit up when she saw Thea. 

“Theadora Dior, precious girl, come to me!” The Countess opened her arms and Thea couldn’t help but smile and run to her. The Countess was sitting on a low stone bench so Thea knelt in the grass and embraced the Countess. She breathed in the woman’s scent of sunshine and perfume, and allowed the Countess to kiss her hair. 

The Countess Tithonius was the only woman apart from Thea’s own mother that sometimes referred to Thea using her middle name as well. But Countess Fontaine only used it when Thea was in trouble; Countess Tithonius called her with melody and happiness. 

“Good afternoon, my lady. I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

The Countess tsked. “None of that, girl. I need no special respect.”

Thea made a face. “Of course you do.”

From besides them, Cicero laughed softly. “You flatter each other.” He shook his head, smiling. 

Thea ignored him for the time being. The Countess did as well. She ran a bronze hand through Thea’s hair and said, “What are you three troublemakers scheming up over there? I can tell you have something in mind. This warm weather is enough to bring the most out of anyone.”

“Troublemakers?” Thea smiled. She folded her feet more comfortably under her and rested her arms on the Duchess’ knees. 

“My lady, I cause no trouble. You mistake me for your son.”

Cicero had been watching Thea and his mother’s interaction with half-lidded interest until Thea mentioned him. She could practically feel him staring at her.

“Careful,” he warned mildly.

The Duchess tsked again, waving a hand. “As I say. Troublemaker Fontaine, that is your name.”

Laughter bubbled out of Thea and soon the Countess was laughing with her. Her laughter, Thea thought, was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. 

“We are only going to walk to the river. It won’t take us long. We should be back within the hour.”

“Don’t fall in.”

“No, Countess.” The two were still smiling. 

“You came all the way over here to bid me farewell before leaving for only an hour?” The Countess knew Thea had not.

“I was going to ask your son if he would like to come with us, but I’m sure he would rather stay here with you.”

“I would,” was Cicero’s instant reply. He was spinning a needle-blade between his fingers, and shot Thea a honed smile when she looked at him. 

The Duchess flicked her hair back behind her shoulders and regarded her son with a mix of disdain and disappointment. 

“Son from my womb? Sometimes I wonder. Run along. I know it pains you to sit still for too long.”

Cicero smiled genuinely and the needle-blade vanished with a twitch of his fingers. 

“As you wish, my lady.” He stood, kissed his mother on the head, and held out his hand to help Thea stand. Thea curtseyed to the Countess, who pressed a hand to her heart, and turned away with Cicero.

“It’s a wonder I can make myself leave your mother’s presence,” Thea mused quietly. “She’s a magical woman.”

Cicero made a noise of agreement. He placed her hand on his arm and she took it as a lady would whilst walking with a gentleman. Val and Iona had convinced Adonias to come along, but Matthias would stay with his younger sister and the young twins. Thea and Cicero were a few paces ahead of the other three but Adonias’ voice still rang out clearly from behind them.

“Is that why you two don’t get along?” Thea asked. “He’s loud and you’re so broody.”

“I don’t brood, Thea. And no. Adonias is only loud because he’s deaf in one ear.”

“Firstly, you do brood. And second, how do you know that? Which ear?”

Cicero raised a brow at her.

“See, that’s a brood,” Thea said. “I win. One point for Theadora.”

“You’re a child. And I know Adonias is deaf because he can’t hear shit if you talk on his left side. I asked him about it a few months ago and he seemed surprised I had figured it out. Nobody else has, apparently.”

Thea took in this information with interest. Then she shrugged and turned to more important matters.

“Are you planning on going to the Vernal festival in a few weeks?”

“I’ll decide that the morning of.”

“Ugh, how boring. How will you know what to wear?”

Cicero knew a joke when he heard one but the look of absolute incredulity that he gave Thea was enough to send Thea into a gale of laughter. 

“You’re in a good mood.” He observed dryly. The river was almost in sight; they were picking their way over small stones that lead to the bank. 

“How could I not be, it’s spring. Sometimes I think each winter becomes harder and harder to bear. I could just die from boredom and the awful cold.”

“Find someone to keep you warm.” Cicero’s smile was razor-sharp and simmered with bait. Thea felt her face heat, but she stuck her tongue out and said, “Don’t be lewd.”

“Then don’t ask for it.”

“I did not.” “Like a child asking to be fed.” Thea’s mouth dropped. “I- What does that mean?”

But they had reached the river and Cicero only laughed. Val and Iona had caught up with them, Adonias still spinning his sparring staff. The girls found a part of the river shallow enough to wade in if they held their dresses up but it was only a matter of time before Valerie splashed Iona, soaking her bodice, and Iona retaliated in kind. Thea’s dress was brand new and she didn’t want to spoil a wonderful day by having an argument with her mother, so she fled from the battle well before she could be dragged into it. She was content to place herself on a warm rock next to the boys and yell advice from the sidelines. 

Adonias came to sit next to Thea. His presence was welcome until he looked at the two girls playing in the water, sighed heavily, and said, “That’s hot.”

“You’re a fucking pig, Adonias.”

Cicero let out a startled laugh. “Language, little Fontaine.”

“I’m serious. If there was a rock nearby big enough to kill you with, I would consider it. This is why Iona stopped sleeping with you.”

Cicero dropped the stone he had been sharpening his knife with. “Excuse me?”

Adonias sent Thea a poisonous glare. She simpered back, knowing what she had done. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry. You seem to have some explaining to do. A hasty mouth makes mighty trouble, isn’t that right, Adonias?”

Adonias was about to respond when Cicero seized his collar and hauled him to his feet. His blade winked in his hand. Adonias did not take well to being manhandled and was quick to shove Cicero’s hand off his neck. But Adonias was unarmed and the accused violator of a sister’s propriety. Thea stood, suddenly seeing how bad this could get. 

Val and Iona turned at the disruption, and Iona was the first to call out. “Cicero! Adonias!” This was not Iona’s first or fiftieth time breaking the two apart; she knew how to get their attention with only her voice. She climbed out of the water and onto the riverbank, dripping from her hem but still somehow managing to look regal. 

“None of that. I mean it. If you want to fight, you will go someplace else and not ruin the mood of this afternoon.” Her words were final. 

Val broke the tension when she followed Iona onto the back, wringing out her short hair. “I’ll fight you, Adonias. If you promise to cry when I beat you.”

Thea scoffed out a laugh and was rewarded with Val’s wink. Cicero, thankfully, miraculously, dropped the subject but shoved Adonias hard enough to send him rocking back on his heels. Iona raised an eyebrow but kept silent. 

Cicero came to sit next to Thea, who had taken up her perch on the sunny rock and was smoothing her skirts out and trying to look innocent. He used the pommel of his knife to turn her face to him and said, “What was that about a hasty mouth making trouble?”

Thea removed the knife from his hand and hid it in the folds of her skirt. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Lies sound repulsive coming from your mouth.”

Thea bit back a rather inappropriate quip that would have been more suited to Valerie’s tastes. 

Adonias had fallen into smooth chatter with Val and Iona as the girls tried to figure out how to dry their hair and dresses as quickly as possible. Thea glanced at them and was amused to see Valerie using her skirt to polish her bladed ring. When she looked back at Cicero, he was leaning back on his hands, tilting his face up to the sun, closing his eyes. His hair was glinting a deep red in the sunlight and beginning to curl with the rising humidity. The tension had gone from his face and left in its wake a Cicero that Thea often never saw. His mouth was parted slightly, his breathing steady as he soaked up the warmth. But Thea’s heart had begun to pound so she forced herself to look away before she could notice anything else.

[sinsdaycorp]

All In.

Supercorp One Shot. Kara confesses a secret - but not the one Lena expects. Also known as: "Gayness and cheesecake and karaoke, Oh my!”

— — — —

The next page was an article on exactly that, written by her new friend Kara Danvers.

A knock on her office door had her setting her tablet down beside her half empty, now stone cold coffee and calling whoever it was in.

"Kara, I was just reading your article," Lena said, smiling brightly as she stood.

"Not worth your time, but this," Kara pulled a hand out from behind her back to show a tray holding a to-go coffee and a white bag. "This is better than a silly article on Supergirl."

"Nonsense.  Your writing is amazing, much better than all the other Supergirl articles."

"I think we've officially said the word 'article' too much," Kara said with a soft laugh.

She took the coffee out of the holder and held it out for Lena as she rounded the desk.

"It does lose its normalcy for a word after a while," Lena said, taking a seat on the couch, gesturing for Kara to join her.  "What's in the bag?"

"Oh!" Kara scrambled to open it up and leaned it towards Lena so she could see into the bag.

"A doughnut and a muffin?"

"One for each of us. You get first choice though."

"Are they both chocolate?"

"That's literally all they had. I'm sorry. If you don't like them I can-"

"Who doesn't like chocolate?" Lena asked with a small laugh, reaching for the doughnut.

The chocolate glaze had started to melt, and the hole that had been used to fill the doughnut with Nutella started to ooze slightly as Lena took a small bite.

"So, what brings you to my office now? Aren't we meeting for lunch later?" Lena asked.

"I-Uh," Kara looked down, setting the bag with the muffin still in it on the small coffee table. "I need to tell you something. And I wanted to tell you sooner, since we grew closer, became best friends-"

"That you're Supergirl?"

Kara seemed to choke on air and stutter as she clenched her fists and avoided looking at Lena.

"Flew here on a bus? Oh Rao? The same piercing eyes and scar between your brows?"

"I-I... Lena."

"I'm not mad, Kara," Lena said, setting the doughnut on the edge of the bag so chocolate didn't get on her table.

She licked her fingers to clean the chocolate off them and used her thumb to wipe the edge of her lips to make sure there wasn't chocolate on her face.

"Not mad? How?" Kara asked.

"Because we've only known each other for a few months, we became fast friends. Then became best friends. You have a secret, and I didn't expect you to come in here ready to tell me today."

"Well, actually, I didn't come to tell you that," Kara said with a nervous chuckle.

"So why did you?"

"I came here to c-come out to you."

"Come out? So, you're not Supergirl?"

"Oh, no, you were totally right about that. I don't want to hide that from you either."

"So, you wanted to come out to me?"

Kara nodded, swallowing audibly.

"Why?"

"Well, my sister suggested I come out to someone I trust, someone like you... Her words. And I said that it should be you, because I trust you, and value you."

"Kara, that's... that's so sweet. So, wait, you haven't even told your cousin? Or your friends?"

"No, only you and Alex."

"And what did Alex say other than to tell me?"

"She laughed and said something about how Eliza would react about us both being gay."

"Eliza, Alex's mother, right?"

Kara nodded, biting the inside of her lower lip.

"Can I ask you something related to Supergirl?"

"Of course, anything."

"Your family, what happened to them?"

"Krypton blew up, so my parents sent me and my cousin in a pod to earth... I got stuck in space for a few years, the blast knocked my pod off course, and when I landed the Danvers adopted me."

"Blew up?"

Kara nodded slowly, reliving the day in her brain, having to feel the blast, looking back and seeing krypton, her home, gone.

"That's terrible, Kara, I'm so sorry." Lena rested her hand on top of Kara's giving it a gentle squeeze. "I can't imagine what that must have been like, living through that."

"Every superhero has a tragic backstory, right?" Kara asked, a tight smile on her lips as she tried to make light of the situation.

"Kara Danvers is my hero just as much as Supergirl is," Lena said softly.

"Lena, that's so sweet. Thank you."

"I do have one other question."

"Shoot."

"Is anything about your powers different from Superman?"

"Not that I'm aware of, apart from my appetite being so much bigger, but the only plus I have is I don't get the monthly monster that other women do."

"Bitch," Lena said with a teasing smile that made Kara's heart flutter.

"So, when did you find out? A-About Supergirl?" Kara asked.

"The second I met her after meeting you, your voice, your smile, the crinkle of your nose."

A knock at the door made Lena's head snap up as her assistant walked in.

"Miss Luthor, your eleven o'clock just cancelled. You're free till one."

"Thank you, Jess. Would you hold my calls, please. I'm going to take my lunch early."

"Of course, Miss Luthor."

The assistant nodded before stepping back out and closing the door behind her.

"Oh, I should have asked. Is that okay with you?"

Kara nodded quickly, pulling her phone from her pocket. "I'll just let Alex know I'm busy."

"Where would you like to go to feed that appetite of yours?"

"Truthfully, I'm craving cheesecake. Can I take you somewhere?"

"Where?"

"I want to fly you to Maine, if that's okay."

"What's in Maine?" Lena asked, reaching for her doughnut.

"A restaurant that's amazing, and has amazing cheesecake," Kara said with a shrug. "Or we can do something here and go another time."

"Maine sounds like a nice change of scenery for lunch. I'm in."

~•~Supercorp~•~

Leaning back slightly in her chair, Lena laughed softly at having heard just how Kara got the scar on her forehead.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you weren't hurt too bad. What did your mother say?"

"She chastised me for chasing the stray dog and said I was lucky the tree branch didn't knock me out or cause any more damage than the minor scrape and forbade me from leaving her side."

"Harsh, but certainly understandable."

Kara adjusted her glasses as the waiter came over to them, clearing her throat before looking up at the man.

"May I interest you in desert?"

"Can I have a slice of plain and a slice of cookies and creme cheesecake, please," Kara said before looking to Lena.

"I'll just have the coffee cake, thank you," Lena said, reaching for her water.

"Certainly, would you like me to bring the bill with them?"

Lena looked to Kara who only shrugged and waved her on to make it her decision.

"Yes please," Lena said before she set her water back down as he walked off.

"How do you know about this place?" Lena asked, watching Kara who just shrugged and smiled.

"I used to sneak out when I first got to the Danvers', sometimes with Alex, other times alone. I took a photo of myself at every border in America next to the state name. Alex is in like ten or twenty of them. The rest of the time I was alone."

"And where ended up being your favourite?"

"Home, no matter how tough life got. Going back to Midvale was always something I looked forward to. Talking to Eliza after a rough day at school was way better than seeing how far I could go on the map and better than ninety-nine percent of the adventures I ever went on."

"Ninety-nine?"

"The trip to Australia was pretty cool, that one I did while I was in college, so I could really take the time to look around."

"How long were you there?" Lena asked, completely invested in learning everything she could about Kara.

They were interrupted by the waiter bringing back their desserts and the cheque.

Once he was gone again, Kara picked their conversation back up.

"I was there for a month. I mostly went to zoos and saw a lot of red dirt when flying over. I have so many pictures. I'll have to show you sometime."

"Sounds like a date... uh, I mean..."

"It's okay, I understand."

"What made you want to come out? Have you got your eye on someone?" Lena asked, changing the subject as her cheeks tinted pink.

Kara took a bite of one of her cheesecakes as she shook her head. "No, I just got sick of hiding it."

"That's understandable. I came out as bi when I was fifteen. Lilian went off her rocker at me."

Kara smiled sadly, but Lena waved it off. "It didn't change anything, I didn't hide who I was despite her asking me to numerous times, on many blind dates."

Kara grimaced and shook her head. "I hate the idea of blind dates. I've only been on two. Alex stopped trying to set me up when I came out as Supergirl."

"That does put a damper on things I assume, always being on call."

Kara nodded, moving on to the second slice of cheesecake.

"How's your cake?" the blonde asked, adjusting her glasses as she looked up at Lena.

"Quite good. Yours?"

"Delicious. Want a bite?" Kara asked, already loading her fork up and holding it out.

Lena leaned forward, mouth wrapping around Kara's fork without a thought before she pulled back and swallowed. "Delicious is an understatement. Scrumptious."

Kara laughed softly and shrugged. "Scrumptious? Been a while since I've heard that word. Are you sure it's real?"

Lena rolled her eyes half heartedly and shook her head gently.

"I believe it is, but who knows anymore?"

"Scrumptious," Kara murmured, chuckling to herself.

Kara's phone started buzzing across the tabletop, and she looked down at it before apologizing to Lena. "It's Alex, it could be important."

Lena waved her on and Kara lifted the phone to her ear.

"Finally, I've been trying to contact you for a full minute," Alex said with a sigh. "We got a burning building that no one can get into. We need you ASAP."

"Text me the location, I'll be there in ten minutes," Kara said before pulling her wallet out. Lena stopped her, already placing money down on the table and standing.

"Let's go," Lena said, ushering Kara out quicker. Once they were completely out of sight, Kara wrapped her arms around Lena and carried her bridal-style through the air as soon as she was in her Supergirl outfit.

Lena lifted her arms to hang around Kara's neck, watching the world whizz by in the blink of an eye.

~•~Supercorp~•~

Kara touched down after putting out the fire with the aid of the fire department, looking through the crowd to see her sister standing there with an unimpressed look.

Kara slowly walked over, putting on a plastered smile as she saw a few cameras and phones pointed towards her.

"What part of always be in contact don't you get?" Alex asked, crossing her arms.

"My earpiece must have slipped out somewhere. I'm sorry, Alex."

Alex just shook her head, frowning. "I shouldn't have let you go out of town. Especially with her."

"Hey, what's your problem? The buildings out, everyone's safe and alive-"

"You shouldn't have told her, Ka-Supergirl."

"I didn't. She figured it out."

[aki-draws-things]

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: stranded/lost

Fandom: Romeo et juliette

Ship: //

A bit vague and metaphorical with the prompt, and not much angsty, but still fine. Little tybalt was cute.

There, @vicapuleti ...

a bit sad in some part but no angst, mostly the Cat being worried. And the little monkey is there too...

Any mistakes will be corrected tonight once I'm at the computer. It was written entirely on the phone so sometimes auto correction kicks in and... It doesn't work how it should honestly. Sorry about them

***

Fights happened, sometimes, in every family, even the closest. Sometimes people, siblings, would fight over a cake, other times over chores, some other times over family. Fights always happened in families, even in theirs, but never like this.

The first time tybalt was five and juliet born a couple of days before, everyone's attention was for her, for the tiny blond baby. At the time he was only five, what did everyone expect? For him to understand? He understood, yes. He understood that everyone was too busy to care for him. - much later he would swear that for her he would die, but that will be later. -

"be quiet, tybalt. - his brother whispered, the little thing left in his arms by the Nurse. - you'll wake juliet up."

"don't care. - he whined, lips curled in a small pout. - I want to play. Come play."

"not now, dear. Later."

"now!" the Cat smiled and knelt in front of him.

"do you want to try and hold her?"

"no!!" he slapped his hand away, somehow careful, though maybe not fully intentionally, not to touch the baby.

"Tybalt." he warned, voice low, almost dangerous, for sure angry. "you're old enough to understand. Juliet is just a baby. Like a kitten, they don't even open their eyes when they're born."

"kittens are cute. She's not."

"oh, but she will be cute when she'll grow up. And you will play together." he tried again.

"I don't want her. - something flashed in his eyes, he looked up to his brother in fear. - you love her more than me." he claimed, horror filling every word, he couldn't believe it, he didn't want to. And yet that's what it looked like. His brother now preferred that little thing to him.

"that's not true, my dear."

"yes!!!" the high pitch that came out woke juliet who looked around, big eyes open wide, and start crying.

"look what have you done, tybalt." the Cat moved away, cradling her, whispering soothing words she couldn't yet understand, leaving little tybalt where he stood, stunned. After a moment he turned on his heels and ran out of the room.

He slammed the door of his room and looked around.he could climb in the bed, hide under the blankets and remain there until someone would come look for him, yes, he could. He actually should.

"but he won't come." his mind told him, a malicious, scary voice. "he doesn't care anymore. No one does." sniffling soundly he dragged a chair by the window, stood on it to open it and then dragged it out on the balcony. He wasn't scared of height, and he climbed up and down that same balcony thousands of times even in his short life. Slowly he climbed down to the gardens and as soon as his feet touched the grass he started to run.

It was only hours later, with the sun high in the sky, that he realized he didn't know where he was anymore. Verona was big, and he simply ran, barefoot, through the streets, between people's legs in the market, through the squares. And now he was lost.

"it's not like someone will come looking for you. They didn't even realize you're gone." he thought again. He sat on a corner, put his chin on the knees and hid there, a bundle of messy clothes, white and red, and curly hair. And tears.

Alone.

"oh no, dear... You're lost, aren't you?" a woman knelt before himamd he looked up nodding sadly, he was sure he saw her before, and the blue colors were familiar too. "oh no, you poor boy. What's your name?"

"Tybalt."

"Capulet?" a second voice, deeper, stepped in and tybalt tried to hide better between his legs and the wall, there was something dangerous in the way the man said his last name.

"oh, stop it, he's a child, and he's lost. You must be starving, too. Come, let's get you something to eat, sweetie." the man didn't look convinced but she was, she kept smiling as they walked to a palace nearby, she even told him he could play for a bit with their son and nephew before going home. Tybalt froze at the word. *home. *

"I don't want to go home." he whispered making her turn his way.

"why is that? Your family must be so worried for you."

"no. Cat don't love me anymore. I don't want to go home." tears fell down his cheeks as he tried to hide his sobs, grasping the blue fabric of the dress when the woman picked him up. "he only loves Jul now."

She heard him sob on her shoulder.

***

It was almost lunch time and the door to their room was slightly open, and yet, when the cat walked inside, it was empty. The beds were made, the closet closed with a key and tybalt wasn't hiding under the bed like he did other times to scare him. The window, though, was open, and a wooden chair left forgotten on the balcony. The boy looked at it in horror, of course he knew his brother could clind that wall easily, he almost learned it as soon as he could walk, a little monkey, the Nurse called him, but where did he go?

He turned, almost crashed against the door and ran out.

First he checked the gardens, then every hidden room, any hiding spot he could think of and then, only at the end, after running like a crazy man around the whole house without explanation, he found himself staring at the gates.

He could send others outside in the city, he could send many of them to cover every single street, instead he went alone, calling at the top of his lungs his brother's name. And with every step, with every scream, fear took hold of his heart. It was his fault, after all. He was so focused on juliet, on helping the Nurse with her that he -- forgot. He forgot tybalt was five. He forgot he was under his care now that their parents were gone, he forgot he couldn't really understand what it meant having a newborn baby in the household. He simply forgot.

But he couldn't lose him, not his little brother, not his kitten, not his own blood, he promised to take care of him, and he had failed. He felt lost. Utterly lost. So he kept running, and calling, and asking around. He wanted to find him, he had to find him, and then he would make up for that. He just had to find him.

***

"he needs to go home."

"let him play a little more with Romeo, dear. Look at them, they're kids, they don't deserve our stupid feud to ruin them."

"he's a Capulet."

"yes, and he's letting our son ride on his back without complaining. Is that a bad Capulet?"

"he--"

"ouch!!" they turned in time to see him faceplant on the grass with little Romeo still on his back.

"are you ok?" asked benvolio taking Romeo and letting him sit back up.

"yes... Tripped. Sorry."

"sowwwy." the little kid repeated before leaving his older cousin arms and crashing against tybalt, laughing.

"they're kids. - she said again, smiling. - let them be kids."

It was little after dinner when she convinced him to be taken home, they decided to leave at the gates of the palace to avoid any potential, unwanted encounter. Truth to be told that had been lord Montague's idea, his wife's intentions, on the other hand, were to storm inside and have a word or two with anyone who should take care of tybalt. They settled on the gate, in the end.

They were walking slowly, keeping his pace, his little hands wrapped tightly around two of their fingers, safely walking in the middle. If it wasn't for the clothes colors and the blond hair, in contrast to their darker ones, one could even think it was their son. He stopped short and let go of lord Montague's hand.

"Cat!" he exclaimed, a mix of excitement and fear, pointing to a man sitting alone on a bench, head bowed and hands in the hair, his shoulders trembling just slightly, like he was crying.

"you know him, dear?" she asked, even at their distance she could see the similarities between them.

"Cat!!" letting go of her fingers too he sprinted forward, arms soon wrapping around the older boy's legs.

"oh my God... - panic, and relief, and guilt all flashed in his face when he looked up and immediately picked him up against himself, burying the face on his hair. - tybalt--tybs, tybbles, kitten... Oh, God, love where were you? I searched everywhere." he cried, hand never still, they kept moving, brushing his hair, and back, always holding him close, mostly so he wouldn't see his tears, or the red eyes after spending so many hours crying. He felt his head bowing slightly.

"... Sorry Cat..." somehow that brought more tears to his eyes.

"no... No no no no. Don't. It's not your fault, it's mine. I'm sorry. I swear I'll never leave you alone, ever ever again, my dear. I swear to the God, I swear to you. To anyone."

Maybe seeing the older boy this much desperate quieted her intentions of calling them out and teaching some things on how to take care of a baby.

"I imagine you'll be safe from there, dear." she said making both brothers turn. Tybalt nodded, arms draped around his brother's neck sniffling quietly.

"you--" the Cat started but words failed him after a moment, what was he supposed to say? That they were Montagues? That they couldn't be trusted?

"we would have took him home sooner. - lord Montague stepped in. - we just couldn't take our son away from him. That little monkey thought he had a new brother to play with and just wouldn't let go." a soft, small laugh escaped the boy's lips.

"I see many kids are monkeys, then... Not just this climbing kitten here."

"how did he ran away, anyway. He said why, but not how."

"he-- - he sighed, not annoyed, more tired now that tybalt was safe in his arms. - he climbed down the wall of our room." he admitted in the end, she seemed to be taken back at the discovery, then she shook her head and patted his head gently.

"well, next time don't make you brother worry like that, dear. You can come playing with Romeo and benvolio whenever you want." he lit up from his position and nodded eagerly before they walked in the opposite direction toward home.

"not angry?" he asked as his brother put a nightshirt on him and moved the blankets from the bed to let him in.

"no. No kitten, I'm not angry."

"sad?"

"no, scared. I thought I had lost you. I can't lose you."

"still love me?" he asked around a yawn, the Cat smiled and sat on the bed next to him.

"more than anything. More than anyone. More than my life."

"love you that much." he freed the arms from the blankets and opened them as wide as he could.

"oh, dear... Than I'll have to love you even more now. Come on, sleep now."

"stay?" he asked, again.

"always. I promise. I swear. Always."

[goldenchildkatsuki]

AFTER FOLLOWING THE PINK STRING

For the Camp Kacchako Secret Server Swap [@kacchako-server]

Writers note: 

Happy server appreciation week!

This is a piece I've written for the Camp Kacchako Secret Server Swap. Using the prompt "We're not friends, but we're not not friends".

For Milk. I hope you enjoy.

Word count: 6.920

AO3 link: (x)

Bakugou gripped a fist full of sheets and pulled them over his head. He wiggled his legs, crawling closer to the wall side of his bed. Eyes shut tightly and hunched into himself. He refused to answer to his father.

He heard the floorboards near his bed creak and the presence of his father looming over him.

"Katsuki, let's not be difficult now, shall we? We're going to be late," his father pleaded as he put a hand on the lump of covers and shook him lightly, "I can guarantee it's going to be a lot of fun," the smile he had on his face melted into the tone of his voice.

No matter how endearing his father tried to sound, Bakugou couldn't imagine a birthday party for a ten-year-old being ‘a lot of fun'. Therefore he would much rather stay in bed and sleep in until decent hours of the day. Until three or so.

Why did his parents have to be so difficult? Yesterday was one of his rare days off and he spent it back at home with the few middle school friends he could still stand. And of course, it got late. They hadn't properly spoken in what seemed like a lifetime. There seemed no end to their conversations, everyone had something to say and he bet that at the end of the night not everything was said.

At the moment he was desperately avoiding a social gathering running on five hours of sleep. His parents were more than aware of that, weren't even upset about him coming home late since they understood the circumstances, or so he thought. Somewhere in the middle of the night his parents changed their mind and didn't even think twice about letting him lay in and bringing a piece of cake back from the party.

Bakugou knew if he kept clinging to his covers and grumbling blunt responses his father would've eventually given in to his stubbornness.

"Katsuki Bakugou, when I come into that room you better be in a goddamn dress shirt or we're going to have a problem!"

But his mother wouldn't.

He rolled his eyes, threw his covers off his head to look at his father who was awkwardly cackling into his hand.

"How mad will she get if I wear the shirt and get back into bed?" Bakugou asked, seriously considering it.

His father's cackling turned into full-on laughter. "On a scale from one to ten? A nine."

"Masaru!"

The two boys both jumped and tensed up.

"Stop dawdling around, that boy should've been up and ready fifteen minutes ago! Do you want us to be late too? God, it's too early to have a headache!"

The man stood up and patted his pants clean. "Make that an eleven. Katsuki, for the love of everything, just get dressed." His voice now more desperate than endearing. He rushed out of the room, trying to calm his wife down as she continued yelling their neighbors out of bed.

Now the slightest chance of him having a quiet day, with the house all to himself, was completely gone. Accepting that there was no way out of this, Bakugou dragged himself out of bed and walked to the chair at his desk. His mother had laid out clothes for him, they were items from his father's latest collection and God was it too fancy for the occasion.

His mother was still trying to impress her sister huh?

That was realistically what all this was about. His mother trying to outshine her obnoxiously well-put together and practically overly-wealthy sister. And since they were very responsible adults -- and also parents -- they couldn't just put their rivalry to rest by screaming in each other's faces and yanking at each other's hair. No of course not. As the very responsible adults and parents they were they had to keep the fight things out by hosting lavish parties, bringing the better dish to serve at them, bragging about their family's achievements, and always go to every family function with husband and kids looking clean-cut and obviously arriving on time at so said function.

Bakugou lifted up the parts of his outfit one by one.

"Really? Fucking suspenders?" He mumbled to himself.

Face twisted with disgust, he released a clothing item from in between his two fingers and reluctantly shuffled to the bathroom. In the shower, he almost fell back asleep again as he was resting his head against the wall instead of properly showering. A loud bang of a door being slammed somewhere around the house forced him to yank himself out of his tiredness. Bakugou then quickly finished up, dried himself and got dressed.

He pulled at almost every part of his outfit coming down the stairs now feeling the discomfort he sensed when he first saw the outfit laying on his chair. Bakugou met his father putting on a necklace around his mother's neck as she was rambling on.

And occasional ‘yes, dear' and ‘it'll be fine, honey' came from the man as he struggled with the tiny chain.

"…I couldn't believe she didn't tell me Yu had found the time to come home. We're going to look so awful when we have nothing for her!"

Bakugou stopped adjusting his tie and looked up. "Wait, Yu is coming?"

His mother sighed. "Yes, now try to find a card in the office. That's the least we could do."

With not a single complaint Bakugou did as he was told, his spirits now much higher. It had been a while since he had seen his cousin Yu. He had seen Mt. Lady more than enough, since the up and coming heroine was climbing through the ranks like crazy. But it had definitely been a stupid amount of time since she ridiculed him until they were fighting like children on the playground. How annoying she could be, she was the only one he would even consider talking to at family gatherings. Yu was the closest thing he had to a peer in the family. Bonus points because she was the only one in the family beside him that couldn't get more bored by extravagant parties. And besides talking shit they could talk about interesting things such as heroics and the tv shows they both happened to watch.

As he looked for a card in one of the drawers in the office he caught himself smiling. Things were not going to be a snooze fest after all. Amidst the countless amount of papers and stationary Bakugou found a card and brought it back to his mother who was now pacing up and down the kitchen. His father stood in the hallway, jingling his car keys. It seemed like he couldn't have come back any sooner because both adults were extremely on edge. Bakugou handed his mother the card and a pen and walked over to his father to wait for her to write something too incredibly cheesy into it. In a matter of seconds, she was done and rushed her family out of the house and into the car by violently waving her hands around.

The drive was long. Long enough for him to take a nap, but the forty minutes of shut-eye barely did anything to him. Made him even drowsier when he got woken up by his father. When Bakugou opened his eyes he was already surrounded by festivities. Big silver and blue balloons everywhere, flags and garlands decorating the high, fresh cut, green hedges. In the front garden children with eyepatches and swords were chasing each other and getting their fancy attire dirty by falling over and rolling in the grass.

Bakugou stepped out of the car and wiped the drool away from the corners of his mouth. His mother noticed and walked over to him, way faster than a woman in heels, in gravel should. She straightened his collar and slicked his hair back as much as she possibly could. Too tired the fight off the woman's grooming he simply scowled at her. When his mother was done she took him by the shoulders.

"What are we going to do today?" She asked like she always did before any social event.

"Behave and enjoy ourselves," Bakugou answered her.

His mother nodded, "And what are we not going to do?"

"Compliment Aunt Takeyama's food. Only eat half of it and then throw the rest in the trash."

The woman smiled and patted her son's shoulder. "That's my boy! Alright, let's get going," she walked over to her husband, clamped to his arm and started walking to the open front door where his aunt was standing. Bakugou buried his hands in his pockets and dragged his feet behind his parents. He turned around to roll his eyes at his mother putting on the most plastic smile to greet her sister and talk about how beautifully she decorated the whole place. Only turned back around when he heard his aunt call out his name.

"Oh Katsuki, you get more handsome every time I see you!"

Before he could come up with an answer that wasn't along the lines of ‘fucking spare me woman' he got smothered by Takeyama, who wagged him from to side as she did. Loosely he wrapped his arms around the woman's back. When she stepped back she ruffled through his hair.

It was like he was in a damn petting zoo.

Bakugou shut an eye as the woman was rough with his hair and it made her laugh.

"Mitsuki dear, what did I say about doing unnecessary things to his hair? You're taking away some of his charm!" Takeyama leaned closer to Bakugou. "They love making you a walking advertisement for the design company don't they?" Before Bakugou could even make a face she stood up straight and laughed until she had to wipe away a tear.

His mother was definitely not going to be in a good mood the whole day, the way her left eye was twitching meant danger and that anyone that valued their life should stay as many miles as possible away from her.

It probably took her all her might but without saying a word to her sister she walked into the mansion, dragging her husband along with her by the arm. Bakugou sighed at the sorry sight of the adults and followed them into the house. The inside of the mansion was packed with people, mostly children. Small, hyperactive and loud children. For fuck sakes, he knew it was a pirate themed birthday party but was it really necessary to run around the house screaming ‘Arrr!' and ‘yo ho!', almost stepping on his feet in the process?

This has got to be one of the worst parties they have ever been to. Bakugou now understood the adults that would groan and say ‘I need a drink'. It seemed like there was no other way to actually enjoy this mess anyways. When he saw his mother come across a family member she actually could stand he decided to part from his parents and go to the kitchen where Yu most likely was, downing prosecco's like it was her twentieth birthday.

Bakugou waded his way into the kitchen, snatching a very fitting, pirate-themed snack from the island and shoving it into his mouth. He pushed through the mass that was standing around the food and almost fell into the other end of the kitchen. Trying not to curse he put his heel back in his loafer and looked up. He followed the legs of what seemed to be a girl. His eyes kept trailing from the outskirts of her white dress, up to her red band around her small waist to her collarbones. He felt his cheeks and ears getting warmer as he sized the girl up. When he reached her face he choked on the saliva he had to swallow down.

"Uraraka?!"

"Bakugou?!"

The girl almost dropped her glass of orange juice out of her hand, a bit spilling over the glass and onto her hands. Bakugou luckily shot forwards and could just about catch the glass with her. His hands covered hers and as soon as he realized that his skin was in direct contact with hers he took three large steps back.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He yelled at her.

She put her glass down on the counter behind her and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "What am I doing here? W-w-what are you doing here?" Uraraka stammered.

A question as simple as that he couldn't answer straight away. Bakugou was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that she was standing right there, in his aunt's kitchen. He didn't even know Uraraka that well, how was it possible that she was invited to a party his family was hosting?

Bakugou knew he always wanted someone his actual age at these kinds of things but did it really have to be her? Someone he only knew because they had mutual friends? Which was the only reason they came into contact in the first place.

His friend Kirishima had stayed in good contact with his middle school friends, unlike Bakugou. One of those middle school friends happened to be Ashido Mina, who attended an all-girl hero school. Kirishima often dragged Bakugou along with him when he was meeting up with her. If it was for the sake of helping Bakugou be less antisocial or if it was for emotional support as he was sure Kirishima had some kind of crush on the girl, he had no idea. But almost every week, he stood there in the arcade that met in the middle of their schools.

And sometimes with Kaminari who also managed to get himself roped up in the mess. But most of the time the guy was too busy talking to the girl at the gift shop or the guy waiting tables and Bakugou was left alone with the friend Ashido dragged along with her; Uraraka Ochako.

When that occurred more than anyone wanted, Uraraka made an attempt talking to him. But they could never hold up a conversation. The longest conversation they had was about school and that lasted about a solid three minutes. Truth be told, Bakugou didn't care to pay that much attention to her to keep up the conversation. During their awkward small talk, Bakugou would mostly glare at Kirishima, inaudibly demanding him to hurry up trying to woo Ashido.

Because of the lack of attention he paid to her he barely had an idea who she was exactly, but he sure as well knew she wasn't a relative.

But Bakugou still had to ask.

"Don't tell me we're-"

"-No!" She cut him off. "Definitely not!"

"Then what are you…?"

Out of nowhere Bakugou got gripped by the wrist and dragged back through the mass of people. He tried to pull away before he stumbled over his feet but the grip was strong. He prayed to God it wasn't his mother making him meet several people he didn't have any interest in. Once out of the kitchen he got pinned to a wall.

"Finally, I was looking everywhere for you!"

"Yu, what the fuck? You know you could just fucking pardon me, you know, like a normal person?"

The girl dragged one of the cabinets in the hall opposite him, pushed a couple of things aside and jumped on it. She let out a satisfied sigh and swung her legs in the air, letting her feet take a break from the ridiculously high heels she was most likely forced to wear.

Bakugou couldn't help himself from laughing at the sight.

He huffed. "I see you're also having a great time."

Slowly the heroine lifted her head and stared angrily at him. "Are you kidding me? I'm having an awful time! Have you seen these?" Yu pointed at her heels. "Mom is making me run around in those hellish things and take care of this party turned into a freaking daycare."

Bakugou folded his arms and smirked at his cousin. "You can say ‘screw that' now that I'm here. What do you say we go trip up some kids and bet on which aunt is going to get inappropriately drunk first?"

To his surprise, Yu's expression didn't clear up. Instead, her glare turned a frown. She groaned as she rubbed the heel of her foot. "I wish I could say ‘screw that' but mom says if I don't help the party go smoothly she's cutting off my extra funds. Do you know how quiet it has been lately? I have barely done any hero work this month. I need every penny I can get."

The boy was about to counter his cousin, not taking Yu's moaning or her mother's threats seriously but stopped himself from speaking as he heard the furious clicking of heels above the loudly speaking guests.

"Goodness, where have all the raspberries gone! And this white wine isn't cold. We need ice. We need more ice! Yu!"

Bakugou was about to swallow his words. He recognized that tone all too well. To the guests, it might sound like it's nothing harmful. But relatives from his mother's side could hear it. The menacing undertone that was hidden underneath a voice as sweet as honey.  His aunt really wasn't screwing around this time.

Yu flinched, jumped back on her feet and crawled behind Bakugou. The gigantification hero trying to make herself small behind him, how ironic. When the violent clicking of the heels faded and no one called her presence out, she went to stand in front of Bakugou.

"I have to take care of that as well? I can't take it. I still have an entire freaking treasure hunt game to host. I need to get people to play, I need to make teams, I need…" Slowly Yu's gaze drifted from Bakugou's eyes to over his shoulder. Bakugou followed her eyes and saw her looking at Uraraka who was still standing at the kitchen counter.

"Wait, do you know that girl you were talking to earlier?"

"Hah?"

Bakugou's cousin didn't even wait for him to confirm before waving the girl over, hissing at her as if she were a cat in an attempt to lure her over. Bakugou looked up at Yu as if she had gone mad but she ignored his perplexed face.

Uraraka peeped around the corner, wrapping her fingers around the doorpost of the kitchen. "I'm sorry, were you calling out for me?" She asked.

Takeyama nodded and took a few steps back, taking in the two. She pointed two fingers at the pair.

"Are you two friends?"

"Friends?" Bakugou and Uraraka raised their voice in unison.

They both stumbled over their words, taken by surprise by Takyama's forward ways.

"We're not!" Bakugou answered.

"I guess we are," Uraraka spoke over him.

The two turned their heads towards each other and got red in the face. Normally Yu would've been on the floor laughing, clutching her stomach and gasping for air after seeing Bakugou embarrassed like that but she kept staring at them, desperately waiting for them to elaborate the miscommunication.

Bakugou furrowed his brow. "We're not friends," Bakugou said, more asked, trying to confirm with Uraraka.

"Erm, actually we aren't friends no, but we're also not not friends. We have mutual friends so I thought I could refer to you as, erm…A friend," she explained whilst scratching the side of her head.

Bakugou blinked at Uraraka, trying to make sense of what she had just told him. Takeyama seemed to think that the girl's explanation was more than enough to continue her scheming. Satisfied she clapped her hands together.

"Right! I'm going to put you two in a team for the String Treasure Hunt. Man, if mom sees I got mister grouchy pants over here to participate then she'll be over the moon!"

"Grouchy? That's rich coming from you. And who says I want to participate anyway?"

Yu put on her one in a million menacing grin and loomed over him like she loomed over tall buildings in the city when fighting crime. She laid a finger on his chest and pressed down. "Because I said so. I already did you a favor by putting you in a team with a lovely girl instead of…"

She tilted her head towards the living area where children were screaming, tugging at each other and wiping their grubby hands on the tablecloths.

"Now you're going to go on the hunt. Oh, and I dare you to get difficult with me," she cackled maniacally. "I dare you to get difficult with me after all this anger I built up after running around in these stupid shoes for hours, see where that will get you."

Bakugou kept glaring at Yu, hoping that it would somehow change her mind but the woman was seriously dead set on getting him to play along. In the corner of his eye, he saw looking at the two, quietly fidgeting with the lace that hung over her white skirt.

He sighed deeply and then pushed Yu's finger off his chest. He did know better than causing a scene at a party, especially in front of someone who was only now really getting to know him. If he would bite back at Yu like he normally would then his mother won't let him hear the last of it.

"Fine."

Uraraka's face lit up a little and she flashed him a modest smile. "Maybe it'll be fun."

The boy clicked his tongue and pushed past the two ladies and lazily waved at them as he walked off. "Let me know when you're done, I'll be mentally preparing myself in a corner," he said to his cousin expecting for the preparations to take a while but the heroine managed to put pep in her step. Yu was strutting around the mansion faster than he ever imagined she could with all those blisters. Bakugou felt like he hadn't sat down for a minute or Yu had already dragged him off a chair in the sitting area.

As he tried to struggle against her grip, his cousin took him to the living area where different color strings were strung around, forming a vibrant spiderweb. The kids had taken off their eyepatches and ogled at, what Bakugou had to admit, the impressive game Yu had set up. Pretty good for someone that actually couldn't give two shits.

Uraraka was just as impressed as the kids were, fawning to Yu over the ‘amazing set up' with the lightest blush on her face. The girl had to be careful, she had no idea how quickly praise could go to Yu's head. As a matter of fact, it was already happening. Bakugou could tell by the way she laughed the compliments off.

"Can we start already?" Bakugou interrupted the two girls.

The kids chimed in, erupting in cheers. Immediately Yu's mood soured.

"Alright!" She shouted above the noise. "Little pirates."

Bakugou cocked his eyebrow at her.

"I'm going to keep it simple. You and your sailor buddy are going to hunt for treasure. Pick a string. Follow it and the first person to get to the end will get a prize."

Yu was barely halfway through her explanation or the children were already grabbing onto the string with the color they admired the most. She let down her front and blew the stray blonde strands out of her face as she glowered at the overexcited children. Bakugou shrugged and reached his hand out to grab hold of a string only for it to be slapped away.

"Ow! What the hell?!"

His cousin handed him a pink string. "You two are getting this one. It's a little more complicated so you don't win," she explained. She then noticed that the children had already started the hunt, without her start signal and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Now, just go," Yu said before falling on the couch behind her.

Bakugou wrapped his hand around the pink string and looked back at Uraraka who tried to check if his cousin was okay.

"Let's get this over with," he told her.

After giving one quick look back at Yu, Uraraka nodded and followed him as he followed the string. Though their start was a little delayed they kept bumping into children. Children that had taken the game too seriously and cursed ‘like sailors' at him for getting in the way of their hunt. Bakugou had to bury his nails into the palm of his hand to control his urge not to kick those brats into next week. Faster he started pulling at the string and he managed to get out of the web and sea of annoying children, relatively quickly. No one's paths crossed with other hunters anymore and in a matter of a few pulls, Bakugou and Uraraka found themselves completely separated from any string but their own.

When Yu she was going to make it a little more complicated, she was really wasn't fucking kidding. It was absolutely ridiculous. They had been to almost every corner of the mansion's gigantic first floor and as if it couldn't get any more stupid they actually managed to end up outside.

Uraraka had sensed that he was becoming tenser by the minute and has said a few things here and there to lighten the mood. What she exactly said Bakugou couldn't make out because he couldn't hear it over his own complaints.

"How did she even have the time to go all the way to here?!"

"We're so fucking far out I can barely hear people talking, this is stupid!"

"Who even needs this big of a garden?!"

A string of curses escaped his mouth as he saw the string disappear into a high hedge. He tugged at the string and felt like they weren't close to the end, there were at least a couple of meters left to chase. Upon finding that out, he had run out of patience.

Playtime was over.

Fuck strolling, he was going to dash to the end, even if he had to yank Uraraka with him.

Bakugou aggressively pushed his body through the hedge. His right foot touching a small ledge which he then too confidently slipped too far ahead. His heart skipped a beat as he fell through the hedge and saw that beneath him was the old pond, disgustingly green from the lack of maintenance. Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the impact of the water as he came to terms that there was no way he could twist, turn or step to regain his balance.

Suddenly he felt pull at his arm, so hard it could've popped his shoulder out of its place and he got pushed with his back against the hedge. Bakugou had only opened his eyes for a second but just in time to see Uraraka fly face first into the pond and get indulged entirely by the green algae.

"Damn it!" Bakugou barked and jumped into the water without thinking.

With his arms, he waved around to find Uraraka in the thick sludge until his lungs shrunk small. When he started to get lightheaded he jerked his hair out of the water. Hurriedly he tried to fill up his lungs again, with the palms of his hands he cleared his face and upon opening, he saw the girl standing right in front of him.

The adrenaline slowly left his body and he stood up straight, the water only going up to his chest.

"I also thought it was deeper," Uraraka reassured, giggling when she did.

Bakugou looked around him. The water felt even more disgusting than it looked. His clothes were definitely ruined. More importantly, so were hers. She should've just let him fall in. That's what he would've done in her case. Only now it hit him how he hadn't been the most fun person to be around.

Like him, she had most likely been dragged here against her will and put in the middle of a bunch of snobby lunatics. Even dressed exceptionally nice only for it to go to waste because of his impatient ass.

You would think all her efforts had gone to waste. But she still looked particularly appealing. Which was kind of baffling, honestly?

Bakugou wasn't blind. He had noticed her alluring features before.

But the fact that they were still able to shine through underneath all that yuck she was covered in?

Yes, it really was baffling.

He reached his hand out and took the lily pad that had been sulking on her head. Bakugou watched his own movements and he slid the lily pad off her head and her giggling faded. Thankfully she bowed her head a little. He noticed more things were stuck in her hair and reached out again to get a few things out of her hair that was already starting to tangle. Careful not to pull any of her hairs too hard he continued to pick out the pond's dirt.

After some time she lifted her head making his fingers slide along the frame off her face. Her eyes met his and he noticed the bright gleam in them.

"Thank you, Bakugou."

Bakugou could feel a violent tug at his heartstrings which sent the fibers in his body into a panic. He turned away from her and went with his hand through his wet spikes.

"It's like she forgot how she got in here in the first place. Isn't she going to get mad or something?" He whispered to himself against his shoulder.

The girl waded closer to him and cocked her head. "Did you say something there?"

"I said we should get out of here." Bakugou lied.

Together they started wading out of the waters of the pond. Bakugou lifted himself back up the thin ledge carefully stood up. He then lent a hand to Uraraka and helped her out. Both of them were leaking guck and looked and smelled like wet dogs.

"Can we maybe..?" Uraraka questioned, gesturing to her clothing.

"Get a towel? Of course, I'm not trying to catch a cold either." Bakugou mumbled as he took out his dress shirt from within his shirt and wrangled the water out of it.

He led the way back from the neglected parts of the back garden to the side of the house. Bakugou was well aware that if he entered through the big slide doors and dirtied Aunt Takeyama's marble floor his mother and his aunt were going to join forces to scold the hell out of him. So he chose to go through a back door instead. Behind it a staircase that would lead to the second floor.

Bakugou opened the door and stuck his head around the corner, making sure it was actually an abandoned corner of the house as it was supposed to be. Fortunately, it was and he sneaked Uraraka to the second floor with him.

He hadn't been on the second floor for a hot minute. The last time was when he was half his age and he had to sleep over at his aunt's house when his parent's company was starting to really thrive and they had to go abroad to some sort of Fashion Week. Since then, obviously, a lot had changed. Somehow the interior had gotten whiter and the family added more unnecessary expensive interior.

"Wait here," he told Uraraka.

Bakugou looked down at their feet and saw that they were already starting to create a puddle on the white floorboards. Since they couldn't be gone for too long he couldn't have the water all across the second floor which he then had to clean up. He waited for her to nod at him and then went on the search for the bathroom, which had proven to be more difficult of a task then he anticipated. For some reason, it looked like that they somehow added doors to the second floor. Impossible of course. But the illusion sure sent his mind spinning. Bakugou kept opening doors hoping that he didn't have to walk around for much more and just stumble upon the bathroom.

Eventually, he didn't find what he was looking for, but it was good enough. He found the washing room which also served as a storage room for the towels. He grabbed two of the largest towels he could find, threw one over his head and the other over his shoulder. With a relieved sigh he turned out of the laundry room and saw that the second floor was empty.

"Uraraka?!" He hissed.

God damn it, so he wasn't imagining the echo of floorboards creaking and doors opening. As he tried to make his feet light as feathers he tried to rush over to the spot where he left her. Halfway Bakugou came to a halt as he noticed an open door and saw Uraraka sitting on her knees. He squeezed himself between the small slit the door and the doorframe and slowly put the door in its lock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" He tried to keep himself from yelling as he crouched down next to her.

Uraraka held up a disc cover of a game in front of his face. "I can't believe they have all "The Hoodlums" games here! These are classics!

Bakugou shook his head as if he had to wake himself up from a dream before he could even try to come up with a reply she showed him another game.

"Hoodlums: Sin City. Hoodlums: The Last Bullet. Hoodlums: Burning Skyscrapers." Uraraka continued to ramble on as she flashed the disc covers in front of his face.

When she wanted to go into the box again to search for another game he lowered her hand. When he touched her it was as if I lightbulb lit up above her head. She had now realized what she was doing and understood that this was in fact, very strange.

Uraraka dropped the game she was holding and waved her hands in front of her face. "I'm sorry I-! I have a habit of wandering off, especially since I have never been in a house this big before. I never meant to actually go into a room. Oh and I swear I'm not making excuses for myself by saying it's a habit! I…Erm…Can you forgive me?"

She clapped her hands together and bowed, peeping through her lashes waiting for Bakugou to answer.

Damn, that girl didn't speak too much but when she spoke, she rambled. Again, he could barely get what she was saying. That didn't matter, however. There were other things that needed explaining.

"Wait, you actually know about all these games?" He asked.

Uraraka sat up straight again and blinked at him. "Y-yeah?" She then raised an eyebrow. "Who do you think came up with the plan to go to the arcade in the first place? I knew Mina was going to drag me along to hang out with Kirishima so I had to make sure I was going to get dragged to a place where I could at least have a little bit of fun." With the last breath she had, she blew the bangs upwards.

"But you never play any games in the arcade," Bakugou remembered.

Uraraka lowered her shoulders and let out another puff of air. "Because it's never really fun to play them on your own."

The boy opened his mouth but was then quick to close it. He stayed silent as Uraraka peered at him, confusion on her face.

Could she give him a moment? He had just now found out how much of a fucking dumbass he was. He didn't think of himself of that much of a clueless, socially-inept idiot but damn did he prove himself wrong. It made him wonder why she didn't drown him in the pond right there and then.

"…You wanted to play with me, right?"

Uraraka breathed out a laugh, "Yes."

"…But I didn't pay attention."

"Erm, unfortunately not."

That's it, the girl had gone through enough shit for one day. Bakugou took the towel off his shoulder and threw it over Uraraka's head. She pulled at the ends and wrapped herself in the towel properly.

"Come on then, let's play," Bakugou casually said.

"Huh?"

"I said let's play. Any game you want but don't complain if you fall behind." Bakugou heard Uraraka snort as he went underneath the tv and checked if the old console they needed to play the old school game with was still intact. When he confirmed it was still working he looked for two controllers and handed one to her.

Uraraka handed him "The Hoodlums: Sin City" one of the best games of the franchise. If he had to be honest, the release of that game was probably where the franchise piqued. The girl indeed had taste.

They went to sit with their back against the couch sitting in front of the tv. When they went onto the loading screen they both let out a satisfied sigh as they got hit by all kinds of nostalgia.  The two turned their heads to each other and Bakugou let out a small chuckle. He started a new game, set the game to two players and went onto story mode.

Bakugou put his controller on his lap and cracked his fingers. "Like I said, don't complain if you fall behind."

"Sure."

Did he sense a little sass in her voice?

Turns out Uraraka was sassy with him and rightfully so.  Watching her play the game was like watching a tutorial on Youtube. Hell, he started wondering if she didn't have anything to do with developing the game she was so familiar with it.

Bakugou knew the thought was silly but again, he couldn't help but ask.

"So, what do you parents do?" He decided not to beat around the bush.

"That's a little strange to ask especially since we're mid-shootout," Uraraka kept her eyes on the screen, biting her bottom lip as she hurriedly kept moving the joysticks around and clicking the trigger. Watching her sent shivers down his spine for some reason.

"My parent's have a construction company. My dad actually helped rebuild part of this mansion. Mister Takeyama was actually very grateful for that. They became friends I believe. When mister Takeyama heard my dad had a daughter he invited my parents and me over for the birthday party, not knowing that I was more than one and a half times older than the birthday boy."

Bakugou just hummed. No daughter of the developer of the game then. That did not explain her stupid amount of skill but it did explain how she ended up here.

He could tell that after answering his question that he should probably not ask anymore since she had leaned almost all the way forwards she was trying to concentrate that hard. Besides, he was slacking anyway. Later on, he realized that he couldn't be doing that. He had forgotten how tense the missions were the deeper you went into the story. It asked for a surprising amount of energy to defeat the gangs and their bosses that were getting tougher and tougher.

Uraraka had started to reach her limits he had noticed. Her back was back against the couch and her body was slumping. As they progressed through the story he gradually felt more of her body weight against his shoulder. Their bodies have gotten hot after sitting in the same place for so long and their heat was starting to merge together. The hottest areas on Bakugou body were his face and his shoulder, which Uraraka had now rested her head on. Between loading screens, he would peep at her from behind the towel he still had on his head.

She had stopped biting her lip and was now sort of pouting. Her cheeks were rosier than usual and one was squished against his shoulder. Her lashes batted slowly as if she could fall asleep any second from now.

Bakugou didn't dare move.

As soon as the loading screen disappeared Bakugou pressed pause and Uraraka took a while to react. Bakugou jerked his chin back a little to look at her.

"Let's take a break. I don't want you feeling asleep now."

Uraraka hummed and took her head off his shoulder. Bakugou got a thought, it shot through his mind lightning fast.

He actually didn't mind having her so close to him.

Uraraka yawned and held her hand lazily in front of her mouth, tears formed in her eyes and for some reason, it made the corners of his mouth twitch.

"You kinda suck you know?" She continued to yawn.

"Just because you play too good for you own good." Bakugou fired back.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, propped up her knee and rested her chin on it.

"You're fun to game with though." She whispered as if it were a secret that she was a little ashamed to even tell him.

Bakugou eyebrows perked up. "Oh?"

"Mhm."

"Then we should play games together more often." Bakugou made sure to look her in the eye as he told her that. He watched the drowsiness slightly disappear from her face as she took in what he said.

Uraraka leaned forwards. "Really?"

"Yeah…Isn't that the type of shit friends do?"