#and we were dressed in fancy princess outfits and I was like we need to do this again and hopefully next time we'll BOTH have a [name] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haechwrites · 1 year

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

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

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

wc: ~17.1k

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

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

-- some things to note first:

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

“Donghyuck! What are you wearing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One hundred more times?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Donghyuck… Donghyuck is the Prince.”

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♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why can’t she be my princess?”

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

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

“No more kitchen visits, Prince Donghyuck.”

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

“Yes, ma’am. No more.”

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^ FIFTEEN YEARS LATER ^

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

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

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

“Oh my goodness… so it is true!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

“How can I help you, miss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re overwhipping the cream.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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“So you are hiding from me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a short pause before The Prince replies.

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

“Eat up,” I say sickeningly sweet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re dressed nicer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t say that.”

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

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

“Okay. Donghyuck.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“FIRE! DONGHYUCK! FIRE, FIRE!”

“OH SHIT!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When were you born?”

“May.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Any cool cars?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

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

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

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

“Do you need help with that, Princess?”

“Should I preheat the oven for you?”

“Here, let me tie your apron.”

“I’ll carry that for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He returns it, “Always.”

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speaking of him…”

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

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

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

“We fought.” I admit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To the owner of Princess Bakery,

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

Please accept this royal assignment with details soon to come.

Signed,

The Lees

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

Prince Lee Donghyuck.

His union.

Wedding cake.

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

Surprise.

Our first date.

Because I love you.

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

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

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

Anger.

“Don’t blame him.”

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

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

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

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

“Shared,” I corrected her.

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

Her words reintroduce more feelings. Sorrow. Frustration.

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So he still likes you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyuck.”

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

“Princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your highness…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god. Hyuck?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Formal Petition to Repeal the Royal Marriage Ordinance

Written By Prince Lee Donghyuck

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

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

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

“Donghyuck… You-?”

“Marry me.”

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

He continues,

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

Say you’ll be my princess forever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure you do.” I laugh.

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

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

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

1K notes · View notes

justjams2003 · 11 months

Text

Fast Pace-1

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

Part 2

Your feet hurt, throbbing in your worn-out sneakers that you’ve owned since your first day at university. Your legs feel like jelly, and not in the good way, in the way where the back of your knees hurt, and the earth’s gravitational pull seems to be so much stronger. You feel like you’re being cooked like the way you’re preparing your sauce. Boiling, bubbling.

The sweat gathers at the brim of your chef’s hat and the back of your neck. The head chef is screaming at you, again, like he always does. You swear that he gets some sick thrill out of yelling at one. Forcing you to do 15 tasks all at once, while telling you just how horribly you’re doing all of them. Not only that, but you feel like you must think for the other four cooks you work with.

How you’re not used to it yet, you’re not sure. Maybe you’re not cut out for the industry, but you refuse to think of it. That would be your life’s dream down the drain. Not only that but, 20 000 euros down the drain. “Y/N, *il nous faut la sauce pour le jarret d'agneau!” Again, that damn head chef calls and you can feel your frustration burning in the back of your eyes. *We need the sauce for the lamb shank!

“*J'apporte ta foutue sauce maintenant!” You can’t help but let your anger bubble out. You give the sauce for the cook preparing the lamb, ignoring the fiery glare of the head-chef. “**Je prends ma pause.” You say, throwing your hat and apron on my station, once again ignoring your boss’ threats. You throw the door open, sighing in relief at the fresh air. *I'm bringing your damn sauce now **I’m taking my break.

You sigh, sitting on the dirty alleyway floor, leaning against the old brick wall. You pull out a pack of cigarettes, take one out, light it and take a deep pull. And as you sit, you can’t but groan as you read the invoice for your rent. You’d been so good on your bills, but then you got sick, again, then the bills started piling up.

“Fucking hell...” You mutter, rubbing your temples in annoyance. You get a message from your mom, asking how you are and when you’re coming to visit. You avoid it, you can’t face her. Your family all believe you to be this fancy five-star-chef, making it big in the capital of France. You don’t have the guts to tell them of your failure. Or the fact that you’re sitting on a dirty floor, after being verbally abused all day.

When you were little, you imagined being a princess in a big castle. With lots of gowns and jewels and shoes. You’d use your mom’s old dresses and put on a show. Whenever you’d get hand-me-downs or the new outfit once a year you’d put on a whole show. When people would ask what you want to be when you grow up, you’d always say a model.

When you got older, late teenage years, you, of course, had to think of something more realistic. And with chef-ing having the easiest job to find and the easiest degree to get, you chose it. Now, you regret it more than anything. Your dreams have been sucked dry and aspirations have little left. At home, you spend your time scrolling through the vogue Instagram, dreaming of the day that someone can do all this adulting for you.

Out of nowhere, a loud scream is heard. You snap your head up to the direction it came from, after watching the newest runway from Versace. Suddenly a man come barrelling down the alleyway. He keeps glancing over his shoulder in panic and almost fear. His skin is a golden tan colour, and his beautiful dark hair flies as he speeds down the alleyway. He looks ready to to climb into a nearby dumpster before he spots you.

He seems beyond relieved to see you. And then another scream is heard, and his expression becomes one of alarm. “J'ai besoin...uh...help?” His French is sloppy and mixed with English. But his accent is not one of an American. You cross your arms and lift your brow. “Aide?” You translate his words for him. He nods, glancing to the alleyway entrance again. “Si, si-” very much not French. “Now. Uh...” Then another scream and his urgency grows. “I speak English.”

This news gives him a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Dios.” He mutters and then his relief turns again to imperativeness. “You to hide me. Now. I can’t tell you why. But you need to hide me. Now. Uh-please.” His dark brown eyes seem frantic, and his accent sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never met someone with this accent, in your whole 23 years of life and something about this intrigues you.

“And why should I, for all I know you could’ve just killed someone!” You reply, standing up and stomping your cigarette out. And yet your firm stand buckles when he gives these big brown eyes, which are filled with fear. “I’ll pay.” Your expression changes almost instantly. At this point you’re ready to do just about anything to get the insurance off your back.

“Yeah? You like that, cosa bonita? How much, pretty girl?” Then he pulls out his wallet and takes out a stack of hundred-euro bills. “You name the price, doll face. Here, two hundred? But please be quick with your decision.” Never before have you had this opportunity to make money this quickly. And you need to money now more than ever. How can you say no? What’s the harm? If he was a criminal, he would’ve hurt you by now, right? You don’t mutter a word.

Not to mention the way he uses the pet names don’t seem gross. He’s charismatic, so much so that you hope he doesn’t see the blush creeping up your ears. Not only that but his smile seems almost comforting. Like you could trust him with your drink in a busy club. How far are you willing to go to pay your bills? You grab his warm hand, with the money in, and shove the both of you through the back door.

“*Je suis malade. Je prends le reste de la journée.” You call out, shoving your chef’s jacket and the rest of your work attire into your bag, all with the man still trailing behind you. “I do like it when a pretty girl like you speaks French. I must thank you, not many girls would usually do something like this.” Suddenly his worried nature turns into a more welcoming, flirty one. *I'm sick. I'm taking the rest of the day off.

It’s rare that you’re called pretty by an utter stranger. Frozen in place as you stare up at the handsome stow-away. “Where is he?” It’s the same girlish voice as before, the slightly above standard’s restaurant doors slam open. “I must say though, my French isn’t very good. I’m sure you noticed. But I do hope you were telling your manager that we are leaving, no?” He asks and this time blush creeps from your cheeks all the way to your ears.

“Uh- yes- something like that. Come, we’ll hide in the worker’s bathroom.” You stammer your way through your sentence. Though you regret it the moment you close the bathroom stall. It’s small and barely above regulations, this place is cheap on their worker rights. His chest is pressed up right against yours. His body is so warm, like a nice fire in a winter cabin.

You know if you were cuddle with him in the cold snowy months, you wouldn’t even need a heater or warm socks. Wait, why are you thinking this? You’ve just met the man! Now you’re already thinking of burrowing yourself closer to him. His big hands stabilize themselves on your waist, trying not to topple over you. And you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, hoping the handsome man won’t notice.

At the same time, you wish your hair isn’t tied up, so that you could hide behind that piercing gaze. Especially now that your bodies are pressed against each other in the small bathroom stall. Your hands grow clammy, and you can feel that his eyes are trying to catch yours. Trying to see more of your face and you’re merely hoping the earth would swallow you whole. Feeling inferior to be admired by a man with such heat.

“I knew coming to France would be fun, but I didn’t expect being so close to such a pretty girl.” He seems entirely too big for the little stall and now you wish they had aircons that the American’s talk about. You too are forced to also steady yourself on his big, hard chest. Those dark unruly brows furrow. “Why are you so quiet now? Earlier you were quite happy to talk, no?”

Now you’re really blushing. “I assume when you someone like you, pays someone like me, you expect them to keep quiet.” You say avoiding his gaze, this seems to aggravate him. He takes you by the chin and forces you to look at him. His gaze softens when you look up at him through your lashes. But your legs feel like jelly when staring into those chocolate brown eyes.

“Someone like you? Someone like me? You should watch what you say.” Those dark golden eyes seem to stare right through your insecurities. “Why is that?” His words cause a spark in your mind, you’ve always been jealous of the rich ones. Not only that but the way they look down on you. This causes a smirk on his face, “So the mouse does speak?” You scoff at his words and start staring him down.

“The mouse does speak, and she’d love to ask why on earth she’s hiding with you in a bathroom stall?” His jaw snaps at your words and this time he looks away. “If I tell you, you might just be another person I need to hide from.” This time it’s your turn to laugh. “Tell me now, or I’m throwing you to the wolves.” He snaps down to look you in the eyes again. “You wouldn’t dare.” You smirk, “Watch me.”

His hand snaps up and then falls to his side again. Your heart is racing, it’s unlike you to be so daring or disobedient. But something about him makes you feel bold and confident. “Alright, niñita, tell me do you know about the Tifosi?” He asks, mixing his language in between and you can’t help but want to beg to know what he’s calling you

You shake your head no. “Alright, what about Formula 1?” Again, you shake my head no. He sighs and rubs his head. “Let’s just say I have a few loco, um, crazy fans.” You laugh, full on head back laughing. “Really? You paid me two-hundred euros to hide with you in a bathroom because you have some passionate fans.” Your eyes are twinkling with delight.

“No, no, no, niñita, you don’t understand. They had scissors! They wanted a piece of my hair!” This causes a flash of fears in his eyes, and he subconsciously rakes his fingers through his luxurious dark hair. You shrug and lift your hand, wiping a strand from his forehead. “I can see why.” It goes quiet then and the both of you can’t help but notice the screaming has died down.

“Well, if you’d ever like to know more about someone like me-” He sends you a wink and then grabs your phone from your back pocket. He shows you the lock screen and you roll your eyes but give in and open the phone. He puts in his number, adding a chili next to his name. ‘Carlos Sainz 🌶️’

You frown, “What’s the chili stand for?” Once more, he winks. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. And here-” he pulls out his wallet and hands you another hundred, “-for the trouble.” You blush again and shake your head. You hesitate, eyeing the money, biting the inside of your cheek, churning over if you should take it or not.

It’s been the first time that you’ve laughed in weeks. Not to mention the previous money already helps so much. “Tan testarudo que ya lo puedo ver. Está bien, me gusta un poco de coraje en mi chica.” He scoffs and shoves the bill in the back pocket of your jeans. “I think they’re gone now, I’ve got to go, I’m sure my manager is looking for me.” He says after his rant in the language I don’t understand.

He unlocks the bathroom stall door, and clatters out, yet somehow makes it look so hot. You escort him out of the restaurant and find yourself staring at him on the sidewalk of Paris. You can’t but remember, when he looks at you like he’s ready to devour you, that this is the city of love. Again, he steps up close, feeling his hot breath on your forehead. He’s six inches taller than you, he’s looming.

As if thirty minutes ago are happening again. He’s quiet and contemplative. His sweet, cocky attitude turns dark suddenly. His warm, rough hands gently caress your cheek. “I’m only in Paris for one more week, before I’m off to the Netherlands. If you don’t message me, I’ll make sure to see you again.” He looks so serious, so much so that your stomach turns slightly.

“Wouldn’t that be going a bit fast? Seeing me at my work a week after we met?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes turn slightly darker and yet he smirks. “I like a fast pace.” As if he’s a villain in a bond movie, a bright black SUV pulls up next to him. “Don’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be better for the both of us. I don’t want the world to know about you just yet.”

His wink sends shivers down your spine. He then takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. “I will see you again, muñequita.” He then slides into the back of the SUV; his gaze makes your core warm. And when he rides away you can’t help but lean against a close-by streetlamp. Your legs feel like Jello.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #scuderia ferrari #sugar daddy!Carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #carlos sainz smut

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marthawrites · 7 months

Text

Matinee Delight

Modern Harwin Strong x fem reader

Word count: 3.2k+

About: While on a cinema date, the movie ends up being something you don't like. You try to talk your boyfriend, Harwin, into bailing early for something more fun.

Includes: Porn with plot to set it up. So, SMUT. Featuring an established relationship, dom(ish) Harwin, teasing, public sex, clothed sex, pet names, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, brief spit play, unprotected vaginal sex, fluff - I think that's everything! Sorry if I missed anything!

Note: Hello lovely reader! Harwin refers to reader as "little", but as always reader is non-descript. And as always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ♥

If the cut and shape of your dress wasn’t distracting enough, the buttons made it obscenely distracting–for no other reason than they were silly, small, and ridiculous, and Harwin wondered how long it’d take to undo each and every one of them. Part of his brain knew you were talking to him, but the other part was focused–really focused–on those damn buttons. And, of course, your smaller, much softer hand interlaced with his own as you walked to the movie theater; grounding him even as his mind wandered.

It was a lovely dress. Truly. A staple piece in your closet. It wasn’t anything flashy, or fancy, or even particularly trendy. You had an eye for accessories, however, and the combination of jewelry, tights, and boots really made it pop. A hint of spring made the late winter breeze a little forgiving, but not forgiving enough to forego a jacket. You were really feeling this outfit. Harwin was too, apparently!

“Babe? Did you hear me?” You asked your boyfriend, squinting up at him suspiciously.

He blinked, full mouth curving into an easy grin. “Hm? Yes. Of course I heard you, sweetling,” he answered, doing his absolute best to sound as nonchalant as he could. Those brown eyes twinkled with barely contained amusement as he refocused on your face and not the buttons keeping your dress held together.

You saw right through it. “Then what did I say?”

“You were saying how excited you are for the movie.”

You scoffed. “Wrong! I said, I can’t believe you’re taking me to see this movie!”

Harwin gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it to his mouth, kissing the top of it. “It can’t be that bad. I think it’ll be fun to catch something we normally wouldn't.”

The theater had three movies starting all around the same time today. You wanted to see the newest rom com and Harwin wanted to see the latest drama. Since neither of you wanted to give in you decided to roll a dice to make the decision. Two numbers were yours, two were his, and the final two were for the latest action movie.

In a cruel twist of fate neither of you got your chosen movie picked. Instead, the oddball won.

You'd been officially together for less than a year. Neither of you had the best record with past relationships. Because of that, the beginning was extra cautious and a little slow. There was something about this relationship, though, that undoubtedly sparked. Love at first sight? Soul mates? Nothing as cliche as that. But the chemistry was undeniable. You had three months left on the lease to your apartment, and afterward you two talked about moving in together. Things were looking up and moving fast; you loved it.

“Maybe…,” you answered, unconvinced. “If it's bad I can't promise I'll stay.” Amusement laced the otherwise seriousness of your features as your gaze slid up to him.

Now it was his turn to see through it. The little glint in your eye told him everything he needed to know. “Even if I like it?”

“Especially if you like it.”

He let go of your hand and smacked your ass playfully. Leaning down, he murmured, “my rude little love. So cruel to even think of leaving me behind. Behave, princess, I’d hate to have to punish you.”

The warmth of his clean breath over your ear and neck had goosebumps immediately prickling your delicate skin. Despite his words, you knew he’d love to make true to his threat. You giggled. Unable to control the heat rushing to your cheeks, you replied, “then let’s hope it’s good, yes?”

Harwin’s low chuckle sent butterflies fluttering in your belly; muscles beneath tightened when he gave your ass another little smack. “Brat,” he teased.

Once at the cinema and waiting in line you savored the smell of fresh buttery popcorn. It was busier than you expected. Then again, there were three showings happening at nearly the same time. So perhaps it wasn’t completely unexpected. Behind you, three younger women, perhaps around college age, talked and giggled amongst themselves. You didn’t think much about it as Harwin went on about something he saw on reddit this morning. He always found interesting–or hilarious–things there.

One of the women–an admittedly stunning blonde–tried to squeeze around Harwin to grab a bag of candy. “Excuse me, sir,” she said in a voice a little too husky, her eyes raking over him a little too obviously. She completely ignored you. “Just trying to grab this right here.” She made a show of getting the candy and you glared at her.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, go for it,” he said to her while stepping out of the way, flashing one of his easy grins.

She returned it–more heatedly–before stepping back in line.

You couldn’t blame her, honestly. Harwin was all big, tall, and dark curls. His brown eyes, perfect teeth, and maintained beard were more than enough to catch the eye of other women. But, really? While you were standing right by him? Turning your attention over your shoulder to look at her, you tilted your head and flashed a tiny smirk. ‘Smooth’, your expression said. ‘Very subtle.’

She made a face and you rolled your eyes.

Looking up to your boyfriend, you leaned against him while you rubbed across his broad back. Your palm glided down until your hand slipped into the back pocket of his perfectly worn blue jeans. He looked at you and smiled softly, lovingly, wrapping one of his brawny arms around you to hold you against him.

There weren't many people inside the screen room when you found your seats. “That girl was totally checking you out,” you said as soon as you both sat down with popcorn and soft drinks. “You should have seen her face!”

He laughed, his hand closest to you sliding under your dress and over your tight-covered thigh. “I was too busy thinking about these to even notice,” he answered lowly, squeezing your soft flesh as if he had a point to prove.

“You sweet talker!” You proclaimed with bright eyes in the low light.

“Shh,” he teased. “It's about to start. Don't want to miss any of it.”

Leaning into him, it was your turn to whisper, “if it's bad I'm leaving, remember?”

His only answer was a firmer squeeze higher on your thigh.

The movie had a promising start. But it didn't take long for it to turn… ridiculous, even for a silly action movie. Harwin seemed into it and you wanted to change his mind. “Hey?” You asked, trying to keep quiet for the sake of the other people watching. “I'm getting bored.”

“A little longer? Maybe you'll like it more soon,” he replied, his touch creeping higher where it’d been glued the whole time.

Unenthused, you agreed. That didn't mean you'd make it easy on him, though. Tracing over his shoulders, you eventually settled your hand at the base of his neck. You gently twirled his curls around your fingers and grazed the tips over his scalp. The nape of his neck. Behind his ear.

“You're a naughty thing, aren't you?” He asked as he leaned into you, tugging at the highest button of your dress until it slipped from his grasp and snapped back against your skin. “Are you truly bored, or are you being a needy girl?”

The low rasp of his voice sent shivers erupting all over your skin. Fuck. You loved it when it got all scratchy like that. There was little–if not anything–you wouldn't do for him if he asked in that tone. “‘M bored,” you answered, coy, your lips brushing against his beard nearest his ear. You squeezed your thighs around his hand as if you had a point to prove.

He groaned softly at that. “We're not even halfway through and you're wanting to give up?”

A smile pursed your lips as you nodded. “Yes.” You pressed your free hand over the thick muscle of his thigh, daring to trace your touch up along the inside of it. Higher. You could feel him hardening, there.

It was a good thing the movie was loud, because the noise that came out of Harwin would have likely turned a head or two. “Get up,” he growled.

You feigned innocence and batted your eyelashes at him. He didn’t buy it. He stood and grabbed your hand to pull you away. Neither of you bothered to grab your snacks. He tugged you along, hand tight around yours, as he led you out of the dark theater.

Giggling, you asked, “where are you going?”

He looked both ways down the hallway before trying the handle of a utility closet. It was unlocked. Thank God.

It was bigger than you expected and only had one light with a pull string to turn it on and off–one of the old style bulbs that didn't cast much light. From the outside, no one would be able to tell it was even on. A perfect spot. The walk home might very well turn into a proper foot race. He'd win, most likely. Not only was his stride much longer and stronger than yours, but his cardio was peak too! You'd only win if he played it easy on you. Which, you knew he wouldn't. Not when he was like this. Not when he knew you needed him.

With a flex of his entire body he seamlessly lifted you up and sat you on the storage table. He pushed your dress up high so he could stand between your legs; his favorite place. “My poor desperate little princess. We shouldn’t have even come here, hm? To think we could have stayed at my place with Netflix and much less clothes...” He mocked before his mouth crashed onto yours. Those full lips were so soft, and warm, and demanding as he led the kiss. Sliding tongues, nipping teeth, and a fiery need grew by the moment.

“I always want you,” you whispered hotly between kisses. You were both breathing heavier, now. You fisted the front of his shirt with one hand and tugged on his belt with the other, pulling him into you.

Harwin made a low noise in his throat as you demanded more of him. “The buttons on this thing are insane,” he growled as he began to open them. “And these fucking tights? Oh, shit baby, you even wore one of my favorite bras on these perfect tits.”

The front of your dress was now all the way open, exposing the fullness of your body to him. Your chest rose and fell with your gnawing desire, and your pupils were wide with lust as you curled your fist in his hair. “Keep touching me,” you arched to press against him. “Please,” you begged.

“You just need these big strong hands all over you, don't you?” He asked, palming all over your exposed skin. You felt impossibly soft beneath his tough calluses as they scratched over you in the most delicious way. Those big hands squeezed your covered breasts, slid down your ribs, across your abdomen, until his fingers hooked beneath the waist of your tights. “Lift your ass.”

Tension coiled in your belly and settled like molten between your thighs. You obeyed and gasped when he slid the material down your legs. “God–yes! I love your hands,” you mewled.

“Grabbing you, squeezing you, fucking you,” he whispered by your ear. The feeling of his smirk against your cheek sent excitement jolting through you. “You need to be a good girl and stay quiet. Think you can be my good little girl and do that?”

You nodded frantically. “Yes,” you answered, the single word loaded with wanton hunger.

“That’s my girl. Fuck–I can't believe you're making me do this to you here. If you're too loud and get anyone else's attention I swear to Christ I will stop so fast.”

Two of his fingers pushed past your lips and you didn't need to be told what to do. He groaned appreciatively as you wrapped your mouth around his fingers, sucking and slobbering your tongue all over them. Your half lidded eyes stayed on him the whole time. His were darkened with lust; the set of his brow and jaw already had your toes curling in your boots.

He pulled them free with a wet pop. Without any other warning he pushed the front of your panties to the side and dragged those slobbered pads up your folds. Testing you. Teasing you. A dark laugh rumbled in his throat. “So fucking wet.” One thick digit pushed up into your body making you choke on a cry. “I bet this pussy could take three without even trying right now,” he said as he worked that single finger; curling, pumping, stroking all along your inner walls.

His name left your mouth in a strangled whimper. “More..! Please, please, more.”

A second joined the first and you thought you might explode on the spot. “Shh, shh… feels good, I know. Feels so fucking good. Gotta stay quiet, baby,” he cooed as his wrist flexed all the way up through his forearm. He pumped in and out of you just the way you liked it. As soon as that sweet hidden patch of nerves brushed against his fingers he was relentless.

“Shi–! Yes, yes, yes, fuck–!” You moaned through whimpers. Your hand lowered to wrap around his thick wrist, holding onto him as he fucked you silly on his fingers.

“Gonna come soon, aren't you? Can feel you squeezing around me. I bet your little clit is soo achey,” he rumbled with quiet humor in his umber eyes. Shifting his position, he angled backwards slightly. While staring right where his fingers disappeared in you, he rolled his mouth around a few times, collecting as much saliva as he could into a single useful glob. He spat the spit right onto your clit. His thumb circled the aching bud. He slid over it, again and again, rubbing it up and down, in tandem with his two fingers fucking in and out of you.

Blood pounded behind your ears. It was too much. The coil in your belly snapped and you peaked harshly. Intensely. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and panted your pleasure, using him to muffle the sounds of your orgasm. Your inner walls clenched around him and he slowed until he was able to comfortably pull them out.

“Look at me, little princess.”

Heavy lidded eyes tipped up at him.

He thought you were so beautiful–so perfect–when you were half dazed after orgasms like this. “There you are…,” he muttered, satisfied. “Sweet as you sounded coming all over my hand like that, I know you're not done yet. You need one more before we leave, huh?”

“Yeah. Want to have a hard time walking home.”

“My filthy girl.” Together you opened the front of his belt, then his button and zipper, until his cock sprang free. He didn't even bother pushing them down all the way before he said, “hop down and turn around.”

You did. Excitement thrilled along your spine. Something about the idea of bending over a utility table in a closet at the movies had your cunt clenching around nothing. You two had never done anything quite like this before. Car sex? Yeah. But nothing so public.

Harwin gripped into the soft meat of your hip and spread one of your ass cheeks open, letting him see all of you. “Hold onto the table,” he warned, voice thick and raspy. With your tights still bunched down under your knees, he didn’t have much room to work with. It didn’t matter, though; it was a glorious fucking sight.

Once again you did as told, knowing you'd need the extra support. The tip of his cock pressed against your soaked opening and you bit down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He was so big, and so hot, and the first spear of his thick cock never failed to take your breath away. He pushed inch after inch into your slick heat, not stopping until he reached the end of you. The hair on his thighs rasped against the smooth underside of your own and you whined in pure bliss. So fucking good.

“You holding on?” He dragged out of you until only his head was inside the tight wrap of your pussy. Then, with a flex of his ass he slammed into you once again. The wet smack of your skin had you gasping. “Better be because I'm not stopping now, sweetling.” His fingertips sunk into your flesh so firm you thought they might leave bruises behind. You didn't care though. Not when he began fucking you exactly how you needed to be used.

“H-Harwin,” you gasped, biting into your arm to muffle any sound that might grow too loud. “Feels s-so good..!” Each time he left you you barely had time to miss him before he drove back into your body. The stretch from his cock was beautifully maddening. Over and over, rutting into you with the perfect pace, pressure, and angle. Soon, his cockhead began to bully over that same patch of nerves his fingers were.

“There it is,” he mumbled close to your ear, grinning, his body weight an addicting pressure atop your back. “Gonna let me fill you up?” He asked sweetly–teeth scraping over your neck harshly.

If you weren't already close that would have sent you right to the edge. “Yes! Come in my pussy! Please fill me up,” you begged in a warbling voice.

His rhythm stayed true and in the next moment bliss overwhelmed all of your senses. A lovely, radiant, weightless sensation tingled through your blood and left you boneless. Behind, Harwin growled low in his chest as his cock throbbed within the tight squeeze of your body. Spurts of his seed unloaded into you until a mess of it slowly oozed out from around his girth; a lovely mess of you and him.

“Oh my god…,” you giggled as he pulled out, spent length beginning to soften. “Is there anything to wipe up with in here?”

Looking around, neither of you saw anything. “Oh come on there has to be something,” he laughed as he begrudgingly took a few steps away. A roll of paper towels finally caught his eye. “Ah-ha! Right here.” He walked to them and took a couple off.

He offered you one and kept one for himself; more at the ready if needed. You stood up and turned around, thankful for it. A second giggle left you as you watched him clean up, too. Luckily neither of your clothes got too dirty.

“Can't believe you made me do that to you here,” he said accusingly.

“I can't believe you actually did it,” you retorted.

“You know I can't deny my girl.”

Both of your clothes were fixed, now, and he gently kissed you. “You are the most perfect thing."

You hummed a sweet noise, floating on his praise, and wrapped your arms around him.

He squeezed you tight before carefully unfolding his arms from around you. Tipping his head to the door, he asked, “shower at my place?”

Lacing your fingers into his own, you nodded with bright eyes. “That sounds amazing!”

As quietly and inconspicuously as you could, you both slunk out of the closet with–perhaps–only the security cameras in the hallway as witness.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

#house of the dragon #harwin strong #modern harwin #harwin x reader #harwin smut #harwin fic #harwin imagine

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newbtheveryawesomeandkindanewby · 4 months

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As I’m sure you know, Hazbin Hotel’s central character is the princess of Hell, Charlie Morningstar. A lot of people have said a lot of things about her, but I’m here to touch on a subject that doesn’t get brought up much: her title.

Part 1: What does “Princess of Hell” really mean?

When most people think of princesses, they tend to imagine Disney ones. Fancy dresses, animal sidekicks, singing a lot, all that jazz. Charlie tends to engage in musical numbers, and she does have a few marketable pets, but her wardrobe is severely lacking. Clothes are an excellent way to signify a character’s job and status. If you put a character in a big sparkly dress, everybody looking at them will go “yep, that’s a princess.” So far, Charlie’s never worn one of those. Her main outfit is the suit-bow tie combo that Medrano just loves, making her feel like every other demon in the crowd.

Okay, maybe Earth and Hell are different in this regard. (Heh, that’d be a first.) Maybe high-status demons don’t wear fancy clothes! Except we’re forgetting one detail: the Goetias. They also use titles like “prince” and stuff, and they’re always dressed to impress! The one exception to this is Octavia, but that’s most likely because of her teenage angst, a trait Charlie doesn’t share.

While we’re talking about the Goetias, there’s another thing worth bringing up. As previously stated, they tend to use royal titles. Stolas is a prince, and he’s supposedly one of the less important ones! Stella’s a royal of some flavor, and that might not have even been through marriage! Compounding on this, the Deadly Sins are all stated to be the king/queen of their respective sin! Or have we forgotten Miss Queen Bee’s antics? With all these royals running around kissing and/or shooting each other, Charlie is once again lost in a crowd of standard Tumblrized monsters.

So maybe her royal title isn’t the important part. Maybe what really matters is that she’s Lucifer’s kid. Makes sense, right? Well, no. The purpose of an heir is to take control of their parental figure’s assets (Hell, in our case) after said parental figure kicks the bucket. This doesn’t work here, since Lucifer’s immortal! He sure ain’t goin’ anywhere! Historically, princesses were mostly just used as bargaining chips to marry off to other kingdoms in exchange for stuff. That really doesn’t work here, because in this show there are no other kingdoms! You really think the ruling powers in Heaven are gonna want their kids marrying some demon?

So now that we’ve established that the title ‘Princess of Hell’ is virtually meaningless, we reach my second point: why even have it?

Part 2: Why even have it?

As any good English teacher will tell you, everything within a story was done for a reason. Yet, Charlie being a princess serves no narrative purpose. She never uses her title to get what she wants, and everyone around her treats her exactly the same way they’d treat any other demon. You could say it was to introduce Lucifer more organically into the story, but there’s other ways to do that.

One of the many, many aspects of storytelling that Medrano struggles with is the act of killing your darlings. What that means is, if something in your story isn’t doing much and thus has no reason to exist, get rid of it, no matter how much you like it. Viv’s inability to do this is the reason everything she writes has so damn many characters, and by extension why almost none of them are remotely interesting. A character being the Devil’s daughter sounds interesting, but if the writers can’t make it interesting, they shouldn’t do it.

So, why did Viv make Charlie a princess? Here’s my theory; writers want their main characters to be relatable to general audiences, and Viv must’ve forgotten that general audiences aren’t composed of upper-class white women whose every need and want is supplied by their affluent parents. To the rest of us, such a character risks invoking that very worst of writing tropes. I won’t type it right here, but it has seven letters and sounds like hairy stew.

#anti vivziepop #hazbin hotel critical #anti hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel criticism #anti charlie morningstar

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that-basic-simp · 2 months

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Protective Over You

Junker Queen x Fem!Reader CW: Implied usage of drugs, slight yandere (could be seen as protectiveness to be honest) WC: 1.3k+ A/N: Thank you @brainrotqueen for the request! Hope you enjoy!

"Ya know I don't mean any harm, right?"

"Yes, Dez."

"Ya sure?"

"Yes."

She nodded her head and pecked the side of my cheek.

"Let me know if I am too much, alright?"

I nodded, "Ok."

I was pulled into her embrace. Her warmth was always welcoming and I always enjoy it. I let out a content sigh as I nuzzled against her cheek. Her soft lips trailed lightly up and down my neck as her hands moved from my waist, slowly making their way to my ass.

"Dez."

"I can't help it," she said, squeezing my ass.

"Dez," I sighed.

"It was an accident. My hand slipped."

"Sure," I chuckled.

"C'mon, babe. Ya know how I get when you're around."

"Please, for one night only, Dez, ya don't get handsy with me."

"At least it ain't in a public place. And besides, ya know I can't ever do that."

"Yes. The throne room isn't a public place."

"It's semi-public."

"Still. Besides, it's late anyway. And you might be the reason why we're late to dinner."

"That's on you, princess."

"Why me?"

"You're the one sittin' on me."

"I can get up."

"Nope," she said and shot right up.

"Dez! Warn me next time ya do that."

"Come on, not like your legs are wrapped around my waist anyway," she chuckled. "But I'll give ya a warnin' before I do that."

"Thank you."

We walked out of her office building and towards home, since both of us needed to get ready before we had our dinner date. It was at one of the more high end places we were going to, as fancy as we could get here in Junkertown. And the bar was considered fancy for us. Probably because of all the alcohol she could get and for a reduced price. As Odessa was getting ready, I decided it was time to bring out an outfit I wanted to wear for a long time. I had specifically saved it for this date.

It was a crop top with poofy sleeves that sat in the middle of my bicep. I had on nice jeans and comfortable sandals on. My hair was all done and I had put on some make up because why the hell not. As I was admiring myself in the mirror, happy with the outfit I had chosen, the door to the bathroom opened up and Odessa was in nicer clothing as well. Well, as nicer clothing as she can get for someone her height.

"Princess," she awed at me.

"Is it too much?" I asked.

"No. You look lovely," she smiled and placed her hands on my waist. "Stunning, gorgeous. I am over the moon."

I giggled, "Ya flatter me, Dez."

"I have to," she said and placed a kiss to my forehead.

We left the house and headed to the restaurant, which wasn't too far from where we stayed. Once we entered, the staff led us to out table, since she had came in here the day before to reserve a table for tonight. We sat down and immediately looked over the menu, ordering drinks while we waited. Odessa smiled at me, her hand on mine as she was rubbing my thumb with hers.

"What are ya smilin' at?"

"I can't just smile to smile?"

"When you smile, sometimes it's bad."

"I'm just smilin' at you. I can't do that."

I chuckled, "Ya always smile at me."

"What's not to smile at?" she asked, gesturing towards me. "Ya look so amazin' tonight."

"I might have to dress like this all the time then."

"Please, if ya do, you'll kill me," she chuckled.

"Only for you, Odessa."

She lifted my hand to her face and she pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

"I love you," she said with such softness in her voice.

"I love you, too."

A group of guys walked into the restaurant and sat at the bar, since those seats were first come first serve. A couple of them were being rowdy to where Odessa side eyed them a few times. They calmed down, but one wasn't getting the message. He turned towards me and smirked. I quickly glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He sauntered his way over to me and got into the booth, sitting beside me.

"G'day," he smiled at me.

"G'day," I said with shortness in my voice.

"You lookin' for a date tonight?"

"Buddy, back it up," Odessa said.

"G'day, your majesty. Takin' a friend out for dinner?"

"I'm takin' my girlfriend out for dinner."

"Oh girl friend," he smiled at me. "So you're single."

"Girlfriend as in no space in between," Odessa snapped at the guy. "Go back to your mates at the bar and piss off."

"Come now, your majesty. I can't talk to a pretty lady?"

"Touch 'er, you're goin' to regret it."

"Odessa," I eyed her. "It'll be alright."

"See!" he eyed between me and Odessa. "Why don't I get ya somethin' to drink?"

He stood up and walked towards the bar.

"What are you doin', Y/N?" Odessa asked.

"It's fine, Dez. I-I don't want to start anythin'."

Odessa watched him at the bar and when he walked over to us, he slid me the drink. Odessa gave me a weird look. Her eyes darted back and forth from the drink and to me, slightly shaking her head. I slowly nodded and just let the guy talk about me and sometimes himself.

"Excuse me," Odessa said and stood up, heading to I assumed the lady's room.

"How did you become friends with her majesty?" the guy asked.

"We just happened to be good friends when she returned to Junkertown."

"I see. Is she single?"

I really wanted to deck him. He was one of those guys.

"No. She's taken."

"That's a shame. Hey, why don't you and I head to my place afterwards?"

"No thank you."

"What? Come on, you'll love it. You barely touched your drink."

"I'm not a fan of this kind of beer. Not really a fan of beer in general."

"Come on, just give it a sip."

"No thank you."

"Come on, loosen up. Have some fun!"

"Oi, mate," Odessa grabbed the guy's hand, as he was about to force the drink onto me. "She said no. Do ya not take no for an answer?"

"I just think she needs to lighten up."

"I think you need to piss off. I won't ask ya again. Because next time, it won't be me askin'."

The guy stood up and grabbed the drink he had given me.

"Why? Do ya think I did somethin' to it?"

"Yes. I watched ya pour somethin' in it."

"Here. Why don't ya have a taste?" he asked and threw the drink in her face.

The orangish liquid was flung out from the cup and it splattered all over Odessa's face. She sighed and shook her head, wiping it from her eyes, ensuring it didn't get in her mouth.

"Ya know what. Why don't you give it a taste?" she asked.

"Fine. What will that prove?" he asked, taking a swig.

Within seconds, he was stumbling on his own two feet, unable to keep his balance.

"Yeah, ya see. Come 'ere."

He stepped towards Odessa and she sucker punched him square in the face. He took a step back and fell onto some tables before landing on the ground. She stepped over him and grabbed his shirt, lifting his upper body to where they were face to face.

"Ever think of doin' any of that again to not only me and my girlfriend, but to other women and men if you're into it, I will personally throw your ass out of Junkertown. Do ya hear me?"

"Y-Yes, your majesty."

She punched him once more and he was knocked out cold. She let go of his shirt and she sat down beside me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

"Dez," I said.

"I ain't lettin' anyone do what that guy did to ya," she said sternly. "I don't care how you or people see me right now. I was doin' what I thought was right."

"Thank you."

She turned, a surprised look on her face.

"No lecture, no sayin' I shouldn't have done that? None of it?"

I shook my head, "Thank you. For always lookin' out for me."

"Of course, darlin'," she said and kissed the side of my head.

#junker queen #odessa dez stone #overwatch2 #queen of junkertown #odessa stone #overwatch #junkerqueen #odessa stone x reader #odessa x reader #junkerqueen x reader #junker queen x reader

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emobabeyy · 1 year

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This night is sparkling, don't you let it go. Aaron Hotchner x Reader <3

Just a quick little idea I had based on a dream last night, and a conversation with @jethro-mcgee-tony. Hope y'all like it!!

*consider this post a manfiestation circle, tickets go on presale for england in 2 days ahhhhh*

Taking Aaron to a concert doesn't go as smoothly as you had hoped...

You had been planning it for months, but Aaron being whisked away on a case just a few days before the concert had your hopes dashed. You had been texting your best friend, trying to convince them to come along with you, and to let you make them an outfit. You had made a t-shirt for Aaron to wear soon after having the ticket confirmation, but you had never dreamed fate would be so cruel as to keep him away from the show. Your friend was being stubborn, saying they didn’t fancy going out, not even for a concert. The idea of wearing a costume was the opposite of their idea of a fun night out and you hung up the phone with a sigh.

Since dating Aaron, you understood the job took priority over almost anything, but you had never dreamed you would have to go to a Taylor Swift concert by yourself. He had promised he would be with you, after seeing how excited you were when he managed to get you tickets. You had been in the queue for hours, so you begged him to watch the laptop for a little so you could shower, and when you got back, he was smiling proudly, credit card on the table, a pair of tickets secured, much better ones than you could’ve afforded on your own card. You had squealed and practically jumped into his arms when you realised that he had got the tickets and made him pinkie promise to be there.

As the hands on the clock inched closer to the time to leave, you sulked while you slid into your sequinned dress and heels. Not even the glitter makeup palette you had bought brought a smile to your face, and the butterfly clips in your hair were too frustrating without Aaron to put them in for you. Just as you were snatching up your clear bag filled with friendship bracelets and paracetamol for the inevitable pain from the heels you would feel by the end of the night, you hear the click of the front door being unlocked.

You turned so quickly you stumbled, and a pair of strong arms reached out and caught you. Aaron was home! As your mind was worrying over his outfit, not wanting to be in an uncomfortable suit all evening, you noticed he was wearing the t-shirt you had made him. You couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked up at him.

“I took the shirt in my go-bag, I couldn’t risk not having it for the concert, didn’t wanna let you down,” he mumbled into your hair as he pulled you into a hug. The soft blue fabric caught a tear that threatened to spill and ruin your makeup, so you sniffed and pulled away so as not to ruin your handiwork.

“C’mon silly, don’t cry! We gotta get on the road, car’s all ready,” Aaron beamed down at you, before noticing your hair missing its adornments you had so carefully selected.

“Couldn’t do it,” you muttered, starting to blubber a little, and he pulled a carefully wrapped gift for you from his back pocket.

“Let’s go princess, you got everything you need now.”

He escorted you to the car, carrying your little bag, secretly sneaking a bracelet for himself. He had seen you making them, and had become enamoured with a little blue and pink bracelet with butterfly charms you had made, spelling out L-O-V-E-R. He tucked it into his pocket and climbed into the driver’s seat.

You opened your little gift when he was parking the car, having spent the rest of the car ride fiddling with grippies and ties to make your curled hair resemble some sort of style. It was half pinned back, with a pair of braids hanging beside your face, making you look a little childish, but deeply cute. It worked perfectly with the glitter and sequins of the rest of your outfit, your cheeks blushing when you saw Aaron admiring you.

You pulled the paper off to reveal a little hair comb designed to look like a tiara, with the word “Princess” across it. It matched your outfit perfectly, the silver and pink plastic jewels glittering like your eyelids, and Aaron gentle slid it into your hair. The semi-updo you had created in the car was the perfect support for the tiara design to stand up perfectly, and he took a second to admire how perfectly the pair of you’s ideas fit together to perfectly.

It was a perfect night. Aaron took over the video camera you had brought swiftly, allowing you to scream and dance to your heart’s content. He was so focused on the camera, making sure it was perfectly focused on Taylor as she danced around the stage, ensuring he would make the night as perfect for you as possible. Your digital scrapbook deserved only the best videos, so he tried extra hard. He was so glad he had made it home to be with you tonight, you looked radiant under the bright lights and the glitter surrounding you turned his princess into an ethereal fairy. He had never really understood your obsession with going to concerts, but now, he would never question it again. Hell, he would take you to every concert you could dream of, just to see you as happy and free as you were in that moment. He had never been so sure of how much he loved you. Best night of his life.

*heehee this is so self indulgent but yeah*

#taylor swift #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner one shot

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mysilaan · 3 months

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Hello, may I request some mcl new gen headcanons of Devon giving Candy princess treatment?

Hello Anon!! Hope you didn't mind the little delay 😭

I spent a long time thinking about how could Devon be with his partner. His personality is quite mysterious in its own way, it was kind of hard to imagine for me, and even after writing the whole headcanon I feel like I missed something 🥸

But anyway, hope you'll like it!! 💖

DEVON MCL NEW GEN HEADCANON 🍒

Devon giving you princess treatment

⭐

You and Devon were headed to a nice evening at the theater. It wasn’t often that you had the occasion to dress fancy, although since you started dating Devon, you had more opportunities than before. The two of you got ready together in the bathroom, with him lending you a hand whenever you needed help with your outfit or hair. When you sat in the entryway to put your shoes on, he kneeled before you to help. “You don’t need to do all that.” you laughed. But you were now used to Devon’s habit of treating you like a real gentleman. “It’s not because I need to, that I do that, it’s because I want to.” You sighed with a smile on your lips. You unlocked your car, and the headlights immediately illuminated your steps. You were about to hop into the driver’s seat, but Devon stopped you. “I’m going to drive tonight.” “Why? It’s my car, I’m going to give you a ride.” He took the keys from your hands and led you to the passenger seat. “In heels? I don’t think so.” You looked down at your feet : he wasn’t wrong… You capitulated and let him close the door behind you once you were seated. You spent the short trip talking about theater experiences, which plays you had already seen, which ones you would like to see someday… and it turned out that Devon had already seen quite a few. “I didn’t know you liked theater so much.” you said. “Oh… It started when I went to see one with my class in high school. Some people find it boring because it might be less ‘immersive’ than movies. But I like the dramatic acting, the fact that all the emotions are so vividly portrayed by the actors… It’s like looking at a living piece of art, it’s not necessarily grandiose, but it can move you deeply. It’s breathtaking.” Your eyebrows raised slightly at his description of a play. “Wow… I’ve never imagined it this way, but I guess you’re right.” He chuckled. “Sorry, maybe I went to far.” “No, not at all! The way you describe it is kind of… Romantic? I like it.” His gaze drifted away from the road for a moment, and he smiled at you. You took his outstretched hand and ended the ride in comfortable silence.

Once in front of the massive and beautiful building, you gasped in awe. “Pretty isn’t it?” He said. “You’re kidding me? It’s ethereal! I never went to the theater of the city yet, I didn’t know it was such a beautiful ancient building.” Devon simply smiled at you, offering his arm for you to take. You adopted an exaggerated posture, acting like a noblewoman. “What a gentleman! Thank you sir.” He laughed. “My pleasure milady.” Once seated, you listened to Devon explain what the play was about. It was a tragedy, with its little touch of romance: two people falling in love, the man: an artist, the woman: a simple woman of the working class trying to survive in a century where poverty was the biggest plague. You eagerly followed the act, and never had you understood so well what Devon meant by saying that the dramatic acting heightened his emotions. Everything was so moving and passionate, it gave you goosebumps.You instinctively reached for Devon’s arm and rested your head against it. He welcomed your gesture by adjusting his position slightly to make you comfortable before resting his chin on the top of your head. Entangled, the two of you watched the play with undisguised wonder. When you finally exited the theater, you were still completely shaken by what you had just seen. “What did you think of it?” asked your boyfriend. “It was amazing! I haven’t seen a play this good since... well, Romeo and Juliet?” “It’s a classic that never gets old, don’t worry.” he chuckled “But yeah... my mother didn’t take me to a lot of classic plays. I’ve seen a lot of contemporary ones, though.” “Contemporary plays are good too! Both are always nice to watch from time to time. But I’m glad you liked this one. It’s the second time I’ve seen it, and it still has the same effect on me... like you, in fact: I could never get tired of seeing you.” You giggled like a teenager, your face blushing. “You can be so cheesy sometimes.” He simply smiled, giving you a fond peck on the cheek.

When the two of you got back home, it was already around 11 PM, almost midnight, and your stomach was rumbling; the evening full of emotions had made you hungry. “Do you want to eat something?” asked Devon. “Oh no, I’ll simply get myself a little snack.” But Devon wasn’t going to let you do it by yourself. He took your shoulders in his hands and gently pushed you to sit on the couch. “No, no, no… I said this evening was for you. Let me fetch you a royal snack as your loyal servant.” He posed like a butler and went to the kitchen while you burst into laughter. “Devon, you’re too much!” “It’s never too much if it’s for you, love.” he winked. You sighed and stretched your legs on the couch. “Would you like an 'after-party aperitif'? There's some guacamole left, with tortilla chips.” “Hmm, yes that sounds good!” you answered. When he finally put all the bowls, glasses and drinks aesthetically in a tray, he put it on the low table of the living room, in front of you before taking a seat beside you while you were removing your feet to make room for him on the couch. You took his cheek in your hands and brushed it with your thumbs, smiling before gently kissing his lips. “Thank you, dear… You’re a real angel.” He chuckled smoothly, giving back the compliment to you with an endearing look. “Everything for you.” You picked a tortilla chips and dipped it in the fresh guacamole with envy and relished the taste with pure joy. “Just what I needed.” He poured the drink he brought in your respective glasses before heading one to you. “Cheers?” he asked. “To us!” He laughed and clinked his glass with yours. The night started and ended really well. The two of you ended up relaxing with your snacks in the living room, the TV on, but you were more focused on the memories you were sharing while chatting. It definitely was a memorable evening.

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moonchild-in-blue · 5 months

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Gushing about animol crossing lil guys (gn) token. Expires never.

Hello Will I kinda really love you for this, you sweet sweet blue boy you 🥺💙

Say hello to the Hope World family 🌈

Deets and Pics bellow (very long):

Coco and Lily

My two favourites! Will get along with literally everyone 🥹

Coco is forever my number one spookie cookie bunny, but Lily is a close second - the sweetest froggy you'll ever meet!!! They are both incredibly sweet, and in my island lore they are besties 🥺🐰🐸

Their houses are next to one other, and often share books, baking tips, and whatever knitting project their working on! They hang out with Zucker a lot 🐙

Elvis

My cranky old man 🥹 Out of all of them, he's the least popular in the fandom 😔

Has been with me the longest - was my very first campsite villager, and has since settled well! He may be old, but likes to learn new slang from the youngins. Has the coolest study/library ever.

Zucker

It him!! My precious takoyaki baby boy!!!

He always has a silly outfit on - the pineapple hat was a MUST. Loves to snack, play games, and hang by the beach. A silly cutie patootie 🥹🐙

Marshall

Look at him!!! He so small and sassy 🥺

Marshall is the fashionista / coffee snob of our island. Literally lives off caffeine and compliments. Likes to visit Elvis and be Fancy™ for a little bit hehe. Great friends with Francine. Smol and Angy hehehe 🐿️

Bob and Chrissy

MARRIED. They are MARRIED and IN LOVE - 3 year anniversary coming up soon!!! 💜🩷

Bob is the coolest (and only) cat in the whole island. Chrissy was totally smitten with him hehe. He's also a silly boy who is a bit of a gamer - has a super cool set up. A literal textbook himbo 🤭

Chrissy is Francine's twin. They were popstars in their youth (listen to K. K. Bubblegum), and currently she's the only one still in the entertainment businesses. Always dresses fancy - pink and glittery and so so cute 💖. Sings all the time, also the most extroverted of the bunch.

Francine and Fuchsia

The Cool Girlfriends™ - kinda intimidating at first, but very friendly 💙💖

Francine is Chrissie's twin. Unlike her super chirpy sister, Francine is a bit more elegant and reserved. She now works as a designer - the spotlight was made for her Chrissy, not her. Best friend's with Marshall - The Fashion Duo ever (WILL judge your fashion choices) 💅 ✨

Fuchsia is our resident punk barbie deer. Dresses mostly in black and band merch - we talk a lot about bands and stuff. Very sensible and kind, always there for you if you need to vent. A true punk princess, Avril Lavigne wishes she was her 🖤

Genji

Our newest resident! Moved in last week after Pietro left. He's still getting to know everyone, but so far is getting along super well with Bob - he and Zucker often have game nights and Genji loves it (Elvis is too old to stay up so late, and Marshall prefers to go drink with the girlies).

Genji is a total gym rat but not obnoxious at all - he's just super active. He and Fuchsia will work out together sometimes 🏋️

-> Old family photo from when Pietro (clown sheep) was still in Hope World - taken during my birthday sleepover. You can see Fuchsia in her Sleep Token shirt 🥹

Bonus family photo but Silly™

If you read this far, have a little snack -> cherry pie, a Hope World specialty! 🍒🥧

#animal crossing rant over #i have so much Lore and Stories with them hehehe #Francine dated K K Slider for a while there but it was soon over. he's too much of a diva #also he and Label have a super toxic on and off relationship and she did NOT want to get in between that #i actually started to write a acnh fanfic but never posted it. maybe it's time i finish it #also Lily and Marshall are super good friends. and Coco and Elvis too #so sometimes the four of them hang out. Coco and Elvis will gab on about books while Lily and Marshall like to chat about whatever #she once made him a knitted scarf and beanie set and it's his favourite ever 🥺#(i realise i give them a lot of stories and stuff but. it makes the game much more interesting to me)#thank you for the token hehehe. smooching your forehead muwah muwah muwah #darya answers #animal crossing #acnh

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all-the-things-2020 · 3 months

Text

Late Night Talking - Chapter Twenty

Summary: The wedding.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 4350+

Notes: It’s bittersweet to say goodbye to Dieter and Emily, but maybe there will be some one shots down the road. For now, they’ve reached the end of their romantic journey.

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

Time flew by. Before I knew it, the wedding was upon us. We’d rented a block of rooms at a hotel in Santa Barbara for everyone coming in from out of town: Sam and her family, Freddy and his, Dieter’s dad and his wife, Aunt Helen and Uncle Jeremiah. Everyone else would drive to the house in Malibu where the wedding was being held.

”You need to calm down,” Dieter told me the night before everyone was due to arrive. “Oladele has triple checked all the travel arrangements and she’ll be at the hotel to help them all check in. You don’t have to do a thing except breathe.”

”I know,” I said, sitting on the floor of the bedroom surrounded by a pile of shoes and jewelry, staring up at the long, flowing cotton dress that hung on the back of the door. It was embroidered with silver flowers and had been fitted precisely to my body.

Dieter sat down beside me. “Whichever shoes you wear, whatever jewelry you wear, you’re going to look amazing,” he said softly. “You look like a fairy princess in that dress.”

“I know,” I said again. The dress was a vision, just fancy enough to be a wedding dress but casual enough for a day at the beach. Dieter had a matching outfit of loose fitting white pants and shirt. We would look beautiful next to each other.

”So stop worrying and just pick what feels right on the day,” he said. “Take all this stuff with you to the hotel and let Sam and Leila help you decide.” He kissed my ear. “It’s going to be fine.”

”I don’t want fine, I want perfect,” I said. “That’s the problem.” I leaned into him. “I am trying my best not to become a bridezilla but I can see why women get like that. We only get one chance to get it right.”

”Think of it as a live performance,” he said. “You prepare and rehearse and then once you’re onstage, you have to go with the flow. You never get the same performance twice, even if nothing goes wrong. It depends on the vibe of the audience, the temperature of the room … there are so many variables you can’t control. So just memorize your lines and get out there and do it. Then walk away. Off to the next thing.”

”But what if I mess up? What if I trip on my hem or one of us drops a ring or a seagull flies over and craps on us?” I had already envisioned a million disastrous scenarios that could ruin the wedding.

”Then we laugh and carry on and have a great story to tell,” he said. “It’s just our friends and family. They already know we’re idiots.”

********************************************************

Aunt Helen and Uncle Jeremiah were the last to arrive at the hotel. Dieter and I had already checked in when they got there. “They insisted on riding the airport shuttle,” Oladele told me over the phone. “I had a private car ready but your aunt insisted it was ‘too expensive.’”

”That sounds about right,” I replied. “Tell them we’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

”They really cut it close,” Dieter said, glancing at his watch. “The rehearsal dinner starts in half an hour.”

“Technically we don’t need them for the rehearsal part,” I reminded him. “They can go up and unpack and then join us all for dinner.” We had a conference room booked for a quick rehearsal with the justice of the peace, followed by a private dinner for all the family members.

We were in Dieter’s room for the moment, since Oladele still had some things for the wedding to put in my room. I’d offered her extra pay for being a de facto wedding planner, but she’d politely declined. “I am your assistant, Emily. This is my job,” she’d said. “Besides, this is much more fun than my sister’s wedding in Lagos. If this was a Nigerian wedding, I would charge you six times my usual pay and a bonus on top.”

I took one last glance in the mirror to make sure my dress and hair looked okay. I was wearing a wrap dress that showed a bit too much cleavage if I didn’t get the safety pin in the right place, and my hair was reacting to the saltier beach air by frizzing up. I hoped the stylist could turn that frizz into fashionably beachy waves in the morning.

We went downstairs to find Aunt Helen trying to insist they didn’t need a bellhop to ptake the luggage up to the room. “Jerry and I are perfectly capable of carrying two suitcases,” she was telling Oladele.

”I know that,” Oladele said patiently, “but the hotel provides the service for the convenience of its guests.”

”Let him take the bags up, Aunt Helen,” I said, stepping in to give her a hug. “This way you and Uncle Jeremiah can spend more time with us tonight. Tomorrow is going to be so busy.” I looked her in the eye. “I’m glad you could make it.”

”We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she replied. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It had been a rough few months for her. In March, Sarah had developed preeclampsia and had to have an emergency cesarean. She’d nearly died and the baby had been in NICU for a while. To top it all off, it was another girl and Sarah had fallen into postpartum depression, wanting nothing to do with her latest “failure.” Aunt Helen had stepped in to help with the girls, while Sarah’s husband concentrated on getting her better.

”Just relax and enjoy yourself,” I told her quietly. “Everything’s taken care of. You deserve it.”

”Listen to her,” Uncle Jeremiah said. “You’ve been doing too much.” He laid his hand against her back and I realized for the first time that despite his frosty exterior, he really did love her.

Dieter had hung back a bit, but now he jumped in. “So let’s head to the conference room,” he said. “We’ve got a little play to rehearse.”

**********************************************************

As we walked into the conference room, I felt Dieter stiffen beside me. “What?” I asked. He nodded toward Freddy’s family, where an older man and woman were talking to the kids. I took Dieter’s hand and marched him right over there.

“Uncle Deet!” Derek cried. “Grandpa and Grandma are here!”

“Relax your jaw,” I whispered, giving Dieter a little jab with my elbow. He worked his jaw from side to side and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Dad,” he said, sounding almost, but not quite, convincingly casual.

”Dieter.” Josef Bravo was an older version of Dieter and Freddy, with more lines on his face and a bit less hair. “It’s good to see you, son.”

Dieter smiled tightly and introduced us. “Welcome to the family, Emily,” Josef said. He flicked a look at Dieter before turning to the woman beside him. “This is my wife, Victoria.”

”Vicki, please,” she said. She was a bit taller than me, with hair that had once been blonde but was transitioning to silver. Not too much makeup, just enough jewelry. She wasn’t plain but she wasn’t fighting aging, either. “Victoria is way too stuffy.”

We shook hands and there was an awkward silence as we all looked at Dieter, who was suddenly fascinated by the carpet. We were saved by Oladele, who entered the room and clapped her hands twice.

”Everyone,” she said. “I need Dieter, Emily, Sam, and Freddy over here for the rehearsal. It will be quick. Then we can eat. Please, everyone, take your seats.”

There were a few rows of folding chairs set up with an aisle down the middle. Oladele directed us, playing the part of the justice of the peace. It felt more like an army drill than a wedding rehearsal.

”Dieter and Freddy, you are first down the aisle. Stand there. Now Emily and Sam. Good. Stand there. Now Sam and Freddy step back, Emily and Dieter step forward. Good. The justice will say a few words, then Dieter says his vows, then Emily says hers, the justice asks ‘Do you take’, Dieter says ‘I do,” Repeat for Emily. Justice pronounces you married. You kiss. Then back down the aisle. Sam and Freddy, you follow. Then everyone else can rise and follow to the reception area. And … that’s it. Let’s eat!” She clapped her hands again and headed for the long table the hotel staff had set up.

“She wouldn’t last a day in Hollywood,” Dieter quipped as we walked toward the table. “On time and under budget. No one would be able to believe it. Heads would explode.”

Dinner was a small buffet. Everyone was tired and there were kids, so keeping things simple and easy was the most important factor. Unfortunately, Oladele had me at one end of the table and Dieter at the other, so we were limited to eye contact and smiles for the duration. Sam was seated on my right and Aunt Helen on my left, so I tried to carry on two completely different conversations at once. By the end of the meal, my neck was sore from swiveling back and forth.

”Okay,” Sam said as we were getting up from the table. “Time for the bachelorette party!”

That was not on my agenda, and I gave her a funny look. “Well,” she said, “more like ‘hanging out with the maid of honor in your hotel room for a couple of hours’ but ‘bachelorette party’ sounds more festive, doesn’t it?”

”You scared me for a moment.” I glanced at Aunt Helen.

“Chickie, I would never do that to you,” Sam said. “Now let’s ditch the men and the kids!”

Leila joined us. “Vicki offered to keep an eye on the kids,” she said, slipping her arm through mine. “Dieter and Freddy and their dad are going to have a mini bachelor party.”

”Is that a good idea? I mean, Dieter and Josef …”

Leila patted my arm. “Freddy has it covered,” she said. “They’re going to have a couple of drinks — non alcoholic, of course — and play cards. It’ll be fine.”

I looked across the room, where Dieter was standing next to Freddy and Josef. He winked at me and mouthed, “Have fun.” I relaxed. He was going to be okay.

”Okay, then ladies,” I said. “Let’s go have a sensible period of recreation before turning in early. We have a big day tomorrow!”

Sam shook her head. “How you landed a movie star, I’ll never know.”

”I know,” Leila said. “It’s because he’s a dork. Underneath the sophisticated party-boy image, Deet has always been a big goofy kid. I got the mature one.”

My room was filled with supplies for the morning: the dress, makeup, my shoes and jewelry … everything except the flowers, which would be delivered straight to the beach house. The three of us flopped onto the bed.

”Are you nervous?” Sam asked.

”Kind of,” I admitted. “I just don’t want anything to go spectacularly wrong.”

”Like what?” Leila asked.

”Like Dieter and his dad getting into an argument, or me tripping on my dress and falling down.” I sat up and gestured at the shoes arranged neatly on the floor. “I need a bit of a heel or the dress is too long, but we’re walking on sand so it can’t be too high. And do I wear an open sandal type or a pump? Life was a lot easier when I only owned three pairs of shoes.” I’d collected more fancy shoes in the last year with Dieter than in my entire previous life. Most of them had been chosen for outfits I’d worn at events and I’d only worn them once.

”I say you go barefoot and just hold the hem of your dress up,” Sam said. “Solves all the problems and you’ll feel like a lady out of an historical novel, crossing the moors while trying not to muddy your petticoats.”

”If I go barefoot, then Dieter will want to go barefoot, too,” I pointed out. “And I told him he can’t wear his Crocs, either. So I have to wear shoes.” I sighed. “And then once I’ve chosen the shoes, I have to make sure my earrings and necklace will go with them.”

The only expensive jewelry I owned was the engagement ring itself, and the gold wedding bands that were still in Oladele’s keeping until she gave them to Freddy to hold during the ceremony. The rest of my stuff was costume jewelry, although I’d worn some real stuff on loan a few times. It always made me nervous.

“I think these will go with anything,” Leila said, handing me a small box. I opened it to see two glittering diamond earrings. “You need something borrowed, and those were my mother’s. She wore them at her wedding, and I wore them at mine. And so will Sasha, if she chooses to get married.”

”Thank you.” I couldn’t say much more than that without bursting into tears.

“Those are borrowed and old, so I’m in charge of blue and new,” Sam said. She handed me a small bag. Inside was a sapphire blue silk garter. “I know it’s cheesy and you aren’t going to do the whole tossing the garter shtick, but you can wear it under your dress and it’ll be a little secret.”

“Chickie, I love it,” I said. “Both of you … you are amazing.”

We hugged each other and then got down to the serious business of talking smack about our men.

*******************************************************

My alarm went off and for a moment I toyed with the idea of turning it off and rolling over to get more sleep. Sam and Leila hadn’t left until well after midnight and we’d broken into the minibar at one point. Then I remembered it was my wedding day and I was instantly fully awake.

A knock at the door precisely ten minutes after the alarm went off was Oladele with hot tea and croissants for breakfast. “Rise and shine,” she said, looking neat and tidy as usual. I ran a hand through my hair and tied the sash on my robe a little tighter.

We were soon joined by Sam, then Leila and Sasha, then Aunt Helen and finally Malinda, the stylist. I felt like a giant Barbie doll as everyone offered her opinion on my hair and makeup and accessories. Sam voted for a “sexy” aesthetic, while Aunt Helen lobbied hard for “demure.” In the end, Malinda ignored everyone and did her own thing, which landed almost smack in between the two extremes.

“Oh, chickie,” Sam said when Malinda finally stepped back. “You look beautiful.”

I walked over to the mirror and took my first real look at myself. My hair fell in gentle waves, threaded with a few pearls strung on silver wire. My eyes were subtly accentuated and the diamonds sparkled on my earlobes. “Whoa.”

”Whoa is right,” said Leila. “Dieter is going to cry when he sees you.”

”He will not,” I said, although I was pretty close to tears myself.

Sasha laughed. “Oh yeah, Uncle Deet is going to cry for sure. I better text Dad to make sure he has a handkerchief for him.”

Oladele clapped her hands. “Okay, ladies, let’s go get dressed ourselves. The cars will be here in one hour.”

Malinda packed up her things and the others hurried back to their rooms. All except Aunt Helen.

”You’d better go change,” I told her.

She waved her hand dismissively. “It won’t take me long. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

”Aunt Helen, I appreciate it but you don’t have to take care of me. Relax, enjoy the day.”

”Your mother would have sat with you,” she said. “I’m just filling in for her.” She took a deep breath. “My own wedding was in the temple. None of my family was allowed to be there. It was a sacred thing but I didn’t get what you and Jamie got to have.” She took my hand. “I know you don’t need ‘the talk’,” she said, “but I do have a bit of advice for you about being a wife.”

Here it comes, I thought. Be obedient, modest, yadda yadda yadda.

”The secret to a successful marriage is to always let him think it’s his idea,” she said. “A good man is easy to please. Let him think he’s getting his way most of the time, make sure he has his little comforts: favorite foods, let him control the TV remote, that sort of thing.”

”So basically treat him like a giant toddler,” I said, stifling a laugh. If only she knew!

”Pretty much,” she said. “I’ve been lucky. Jerry and I have our own spheres of influence, you might say. He goes to work, handles the finances, legal stuff. And I take care of all the house stuff, the family stuff. I know it seems antiquated to you, but it works for us. Figure out what works for you and Dieter, and then make him think it was all his idea in the first place.”

”I think we’ve got a pretty good handle on that,” I told her. We had already settled into a working routine with Dominic as far as the company went and I was finding my groove. I was a natural organizer and planner — not as skilled and unflappable as Oladele — but I could see the connections between things that others overlooked. I had the plans for the Dieter Bravo Foundation sketched out: arts programs for underfunded schools; after school programs focused on performing arts and related skills; career guidance for kids who wanted to follow their passions instead of just looking for “something that pays well.”

”Okay, then,” Aunt Helen said. “I’ll leave you alone now. Take the time to breathe, because once you leave this hotel room, the day is going to fly by.” She kissed my cheek and left. I took a deep breath. This was it. I was at the top of the incline, and the roller coaster ride of the rest of my life was about to begin. But for a moment — a precious moment — everything was still. Everything was quiet. And Dieter was waiting to join me for the plunge.

***************************************************

“You ready, chickie?” Sam was beautiful in her long blue sundress. She had the bouquet in her hand, a frothy thing of daisies and baby’s breath and cosmos and lavender that looked like a spring meadow.

I took one last look in the mirror. I wasn’t wearing a veil, but I had a crown of rosebuds and daisies that made me feel like a fairy princess. I made sure it was on straight, then transferred my engagement ring from my left hand to my right. “Ready,” I said.

We walked outside to the backyard of the beach house, which had a small gate that opened directly onto the beach. Everyone was already in place. An onshore breeze fluttered the cloth draped over the temporary bower where the justice of the peace, a stolid middle aged woman with a streak of purple in her hair, stood waiting with a smile on her face. And in front of her, just to one side, stood Dieter.

His shirt collar was unbuttoned, of course, and the salty air played with his curls that refused to be completely tamed. He looked both scared to death and ready to burst into laughter. I felt the same way inside.

I followed Sam down the aisle between the folding chairs where our friends and family sat. Dieter’s eyes were shimmering, and I fought back my own tears. I didn’t want to ruin my mascara for the photos.

The justice welcomed us and the ceremony began. It was real and surreal at the same time. I felt the breeze off the ocean, tasted the salt in the air, heard the gulls crying overhead, smelled the tang of kelp and fish and sunblock, but at the same time, it was like it was happening to someone else. I was an actor on a stage, lost in a dream. I didn’t want to wake up.

When it was time to exchange our vows, we turned to face each other and Dieter took both my hands in his.

He went first. “I’m going to cheat a little and quote Shakespeare. ‘Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.’ That’s from The Tempest, and I can think of no better way to explain how I knew almost from the start that I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. And then there’s Sonnet 116:

‘Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken’

My love for you will never falter, never waver. This is the vow I make to you, to be here always, through all the ups and downs that life can throw at us.”

His voice faltered a bit at the end, and then he smiled that radiant smile that always made my heart swell with happiness.

I had to pause and take a moment to compose myself so that I wouldn’t start crying before I spoke my own vow.

“I call your Shakespeare and raise you Pablo Neruda,” I said. He laughed quietly. “‘But I love your feet because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.’ You found me, and I found you, against all the odds. It was mere chance that we were in the same bookshop at the same time and in that moment of chance, our lives were forever changed. And now I don’t know what I would do without you. As Neruda said, ‘Take bread away from me, if you wish, take air away, but do not take from me your laughter.’ I want to always have your laughter, your tears, your deepest conversations and your silliest flights of fancy. I vow to be always by your side, no matter what, in all things, serious and silly, whatever comes our way.”

Now there were tears standing in his eyes, too, so I didn’t feel quite so bad. The justice of the peace asked us to bring out the rings, which Dieter took from Freddy. We said our “I do”s and exchanged rings. Dieter’s hands were shaking a bit as he slid my ring onto my finger, and mine weren’t exactly still as I slid his ring onto his finger. The justice of the peace pronounced us husband and wife and just like that, we were married.

”Great performance,” Dieter whispered as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were gentle and sweet.

“I had the perfect scene partner,” I replied. Then we turned toward our guests and led the march back up the aisle to the backyard, where the party was ready to start.

**********************************************

The reception was laid back. There was music from someone’s phone, hooked up to the Bluetooth speakers that dotted the backyard, but no real DJ. There was a buffet of appetizers and little sandwiches and other finger foods, so there was no seating plan. Dieter and I had a small table to ourselves, but everyone else sat where they pleased, danced when they pleased, and ate as they pleased.

At one point, Freddy did stand up and offer a toast. We all raised our glasses of champagne or sparkling cider as he said, “To my brother and my new sister in law. I hope your life together is as beautiful as the two of you are.”

We posed for photos next to the cake, and cutting the cake, and feeding each other bites of cake. We posed with Freddy and Sam, with all the kids present, with all the family members …

“Is this what being a model is like?” I asked Dieter. He’d done some advertising shoots before.

“This is way better,” he said. “There’s food and I can make faces if I want to.” He stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes.

”That one is not going in the photo album,” I told him. He just winked. I had a feeling there were going to be two albums, one “official” and another one full of candids.

Late in the afternoon, as kids were falling asleep and people were starting to drift away, the photographer led us down onto the beach. “Take off your shoes,” she said. “I want some shots of you walking barefoot through the surf. Barefoot on the sand. Just carefree and summery.”

As we walked, hand in hand, Dieter leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Remember that first time we went to the beach together? And I found out you didn’t know how to swim?”

”Yeah,” I said. “We saw that corgi and ate snow cones.” I turned to him. “If anyone had told me at that moment that we’d end up married, I’d have laughed in their face.”

”Not me,” Dieter said, shaking his head. “I knew it from the start. You know, I picked today for the wedding because it’s the anniversary of our first date. Of the night I knew this was going to happen.”

”You just wanted to make it easier to remember both anniversaries,” I said.

Dieter stopped walking and put his hands on my shoulders. “No, that’s not why. It’s because I promised Freddy I’d wait a year to see if I still felt the same. And I do. I couldn’t wait a day longer than necessary.” He kissed me and I completely forgot about the photographer, and the last of our guests, and anyone else who might have been watching. Nothing else mattered in the world but the two of us, together, as we were meant to be.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter x emily #late night talking

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