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hanibalistic · 3 years

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

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

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

word count | 32k+

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

tag | @fluffyskzclub

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You habitually waited for the princess to speak first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asked, shrugging.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you said, nodding at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Princess Rose, with love.

A love letter, but from who?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh–good evening, Your Highness.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah… is it Chan?” Hyunjin asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I wasn’t really–“

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

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

“It’s [Na]–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love letter delivery!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that…” Minho giggled nervously.

He wrote no such thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Is the cake bad?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s a tie bound to break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You switched my letter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hard part, right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you care to elaborate?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minho–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Write the love letter with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened today?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A father, yes, but certainly not a dad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? Care to show me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chan! Chan! Bang Chan!”

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

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

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

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

“[Name]!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And that’s a two person job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But they’re heavy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! Lover boy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What pisses you off?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It must be exhausting.

“I’ll support you two.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (Emma Mathers) (A/n- yes the title was inspired by Taylor Swift's Illicit Affairs)

Masterlist Behind Closed Doors Masterlist

Warnings- Angst

Clandestine Meeting

“I miss you.”

Emma looked up from the text, taken aback. Her doe eyes were wide and the words which might have previously served to put a small smile on her face simply had her pulling half of her lower lip between her teeth. Stiffening her stance, her mind went rigid and though the keypad was opened and awaiting her reply, Emma didn’t quite know what she should say. So, instead, she glanced up, trying to keep her cool as she looked across the room, meeting his gaze from where he sat at the breakfast bar, phone in hand and morning paper discarded near his half finished bowl of cereal.

Keanu’s whiskey orbs stared back at her, practically willing her to start typing a response, to hopefully admit that she felt the same. It had been almost a week since Miranda’s return, and since then, Emma had gone back to avoiding Keanu like the plague. Even being in the same room with him was too much, though, considering that over seeing the twins’ breakfast was part of her job, mornings were proving to be hardest, and by all means the only time they actually spent together. “Everything okay Em?” Using his free hand, Keanu shifted his spoon around in his ceramic bowl, acting so nonchalant that it hurt to watch. Whoever said he wasn’t a good actor had to have been a good liar.

“Yeah,” sucking in a sharp breath, she nodded stiffly, giving the text, which he’d seen her read, one final glance before locking the phone and setting it down on the granite counter. Without further ado, she carried on, getting orange juice for Matt and then cleaning up a spill Poppy had made while trying to pour more milk into her sugary, colorful cereal. “Let me help you with that,” she mumbled sweetly, hurrying over to collect the roll of paper towels and subsequently tearing off a couple blocks to sap up the fallen milk.

Still on the counter, her phone chirped again, and when she was finally finished, Emma read yet another text from Keanu, that time through the notifications, “Can I see you tonight?”

Already exasperated, Emma rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw as she hastily snatched up the cell. She hated that he was just sitting there, acting like he wasn’t engaged, trying to reel her back in despite the consequences. She hated that she actually wanted to see him anyway, even more. But what Emma hated the most was knowing that no matter what, she was already Keanu’s closeted secret. “You’re seeing me right now,” she angrily tapped the little blue send button, tossing the phone back to the cool surface, only for him to respond almost instantaneously.

“You know what I mean……” Was his reply, and when Emma took the chance at sneaking a glance at him, Emma could see that Keanu’s eyes had softened, silently pleading with her to give in. In that moment, she could slowly start to feel her resolve wavering; everything she’d worked so had to build up over the past five days or so diminished by just one look. Suddenly, she felt strange chill run through her, not as a consequence of the environment, it was actually quite warm that morning. It was actually from the memory that arose upon reminiscing on the last time she’d been alone with Keanu. That day when Miranda had come back, the way he’d touched her while they laid in bed, how his smell, as predicted, had stained her sheets and finally, how he’d come into her room that night, caressing her cheek and kissing her forehead as if he cared. Emma knew that she shouldn’t have been falling for it; a relationship with Keanu was fruitless, he couldn’t offer her anything but private pleasures and then insurmountable hurt. Still, she wanted it, she wanted him.

Clutching the phone tightly, Emma quickly tried to blink away burning tears, staring at the words on the bright screen. “I’m sorry,” another one came in, followed up with, “Please, I promise we can talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Emma’s fingers worked quickly, and it hurt her to type those words while knowing that there was so much she wanted to say.

Again, before she could set it down, Keanu sent, “Don’t say that. I don’t want to end things this way. Just let me fix this.”

“How?” Emma was about to hit send again, when, in a flurry of floral silk, Miranda sauntered into the room, immediately going to wrap her arms around Keanu’s broad shoulders. He stiffened visibly, hurriedly dropping his phone face down, and Emma was left to silently watch the scene unfold, taking note of the way Miranda met her eyes briefly before laying a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Good morning darling,” she sung near his ear, unable to bear anymore of it, Emma swallowed her hurt and get back to tidying the kitchen and tending to the children. Though, that didn’t quite stop her from listening, “I can’t believe you left me in bed, all alone.”

Chuckling softly, Keanu took a minute before coming up with a response, “You know I like to get an early start. Did you sleep well?”

“Just fine,” Miranda hummed, sashaying over to the refrigerator and scanning its contents until she spotted the overly expensive, extremely exotic, organic creamer that she usually took with her coffee. “Emily,” she turned to Emma, who by then, had long grown tired of trying to correct her, “Why don’t you get my mug and pour me some coffee?"

Miranda, as Emma had come to learn, had the oddest sense of humor and seemed to get off on ‘accidently’ treating her like a maid. And sometimes, like her very own lady in waiting. “Sure,” Emma managed through gritted teeth, all but snatching the handcrafted mug off a shelf in the cabinet and then half filling it with scalding black liquid. “Anything else?” The ordinarily polite quip was actually meant as a petty jab, though Miranda didn’t seem to get that.

“There is actually,” stirring in some of the creamer, not even looking Emma’s way, “Do you think could whip me up an egg white omelet?”

That time, before Emma could speak, Keanu was interjecting, “Mandy,” he tried to sound light and teasing, the edge of annoyance kept at bay, “You know that Em isn’t a maid. Besides, the tutors are coming soon and she has to get the kids ready.”

“Well I’m sure you can do that Keke, I have to finish prepping for my meeting with the wedding planner and I can’t do that on an empty stomach,” pouting dramatically, Miranda summoned up her best puppy eyes for Keanu, “Please darling? For the sake of our wedding?”

“I…..” Keanu stuttered, and Emma hoped with everything in her that he wouldn’t feed her to the lion, but of course, she couldn’t be so lucky, “Why not?” Defeated, Emma’s sigh was soft, and before she knew it, Keanu was rounding up Matt and Poppy and flashing her sympathetic look before herding them towards the hallway after announcing that it was bath time.

She waited until Keanu was gone, and from the minute Keanu was out of earshot, Miranda began the inescapable torture. She cared very little for those who she proudly referred to as help, though Miranda did like hearing herself talk enough to ramble on to anything with ears. “I don’t know if Keanu’s mentioned it,” she carried on, popping a grape from the bowl in the fridge into her mouth, “But we’ve decided on a winter wedding in New York. We’re doing it at the Weylin on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s……” Emma’s voice was soft and it took everything in her to not break down at the thought of Keanu marrying someone else. Worst yet, it was so close, just over a month and a half away. “That’s nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Emma was in the process of gathering the egg whites, expertly separating them from the yolks like her mother had taught her so long ago. “It’s going to be a grand affair,” she explained exuberantly, “And I’ve got a designer from Dior working on a custom dress. I’m already in talks with a couple magazines, we’re going to cover the entire thing.”

Furrowing her brows, Emma slowed down as she moved on to chopping the seasonings. A publicized wedding? That didn’t sound much like Keanu at all; he was notoriously private and hated the press getting in on his life. It was why he’d avoided social media and had pitched out thousands for Matt and Poppy to be homeschooled. “Are you sure Keanu will like that?” Emma’s tentative probe was soft and unsteady and she knew very well that it wasn’t her place to ask.

“Well why wouldn’t he?” Miranda sank into a seat at the kitchen table, nearest to the window, where the warm light was filtering in and washing to room with a heat contrasted perfectly by the low setting of the air conditioner, “The publicity will be great for him too. God knows he needs it sometimes, if he didn’t work so much, there wouldn’t be anything for anyone to write about.”

“I think that’s the point,” foolishly, Emma countered, “I mean, he does hate having his life all over the media, he likes privacy. Right?”

“Oh God,” she burst out laughing, rolling her eyes, “You’re a naïve little thing aren’t you, Emily? Every celebrity plays that little game. But in our world, no matter what you do, everyone is gonna know everything about you, and it sells. And as long as it sells, who gives a fuck about privacy?”

Fumbling for words, Emma slid the now finished omelet onto a pristine white plate, “I’m sure its not possible to know everything.” The conversation was starting to make her uncomfortable, and Emma desperately wanted an out.

“Of course it is,” Miranda cackled loudly, “This is Hollywood dear, there are eyes everywhere.” Emma had just set the plate and cutlery down in front of Miranda, and was already, leaving the kitchen hoping to get back to cleaning up later that morning when the older woman added, just as she was at the mouth of the long corridor, “Just remember that Emily, every secret, every nose job, every hidden pregnancy, every affair…..it always gets out, sooner or later.”

She paused for a minute at the mere mention of the word ‘affair,’ though, Emma didn’t want to have some kind of teary episode right there in front of Keanu’s wretched fiancée, picking up a quick pace not long after. She had to get to her room before the heat had completely risen to her face and the tears had inevitably started falling, she couldn’t be caught like that without reasonable explanation. Emma was almost there, her door was straight ahead after she’d climbed the stairs, and her head was down as she toyed anxiously with the knot of the robe when someone grabbed her arm, effectively startling her. “Hey,” Keanu side stepped in front of her, looking around to make sure that they were truly alone. “I was hoping to get you alone.”

“Uhh….” Blinking away the shock she’d left the kitchen with, Emma tried to act normal, ignoring the rapid beating of her heart, “I um…..what do you want?”

“To see you, alone. Just the two of us,” before Emma could object, Keanu cut her off, “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and definitely I deserve the cold shoulder. But I have something planned, just for the two of us.”

“Ke-” Torn, Emma half sobbed, knowing that she badly wanted some time alone with him but also knowing that with Miranda back it would be a risk.

“I know,” he sighed, “But I miss you, so much baby,” he leaned in, stealing kiss which she readily reciprocated, “I just want to be with you,” he peered down the stairs, ensuring that Miranda wasn’t nearby, his baritone dropping an octave as Keanu placed a hand on her waist, stepping closer, “I know you’re mad at me, but don’t you miss me too sweetheart?”

“I’m not mad at you, and I do miss you” Emma laid a gentle hand on Keanu’s shoulder, a couple rogue tears slipping past her lashes, “But this is wrong, you know that.”

“I do,” he whispered, bending to press his forehead to hers, “But I can’t help it, you’re all I think about sometimes,” swallowing thickly, Keanu continued, “I’ve put something together and my sister has been asking for the kids for a while now. Miranda is gonna be out with her girlfriends tonight, say you’ll come with me.”

Licking her lips, Emma ignored the voice in her head that urged that it was a bad idea, “Where?”

“Its a surprise,” Keanu smiled faintly, catching her lips in a brief peck, “But I promise you’ll like it. Just dress in jeans, and your leather jacket cause we’re taking the bike. Okay?”

Hesitating, Emma eventually nodded, “Okay,” she sealed with a kiss, reluctantly untangling from him, walking off with a backwards glance, her tormented gaze meeting his hopeful one last time.

“Ke….” Emma emitted soft, breathy, delighted giggles that seemed to get lost the minute it was cast out in the atmosphere. The lights were turned down low and past the clear, glass double doors, a sleek, modern fireplace was lit on the porch that jutted out over the edge of the cliff, overlooking the darkened ocean. The heels of her boots thudded softly on the rich hardwood as Emma stepped further into the primarily glass abode. The high ceilings, supported by thick fiberglass beams, matched the floors when she looked up in awe, and eventually, when she reached the open doors leading to the cool outside, where a salty breeze blew her freed tresses, Emma was almost at a total loss for words, “This is……”

A wide, proud smile split his lips. Keanu was glad she liked it, he’d pulled a lot of strings to get them that place for a few hours. It was far off from the lively city and the thick surrounding foliage should have protected them from being discovered by any prying eyes. For a few precious hours, they could be free. Slowly, he approached Emma where she stood, grasping the cool railing, mouth still agape as she looked forward. Snaking his arms around her waist and pressing his chest against her back, he laid a kiss no the side of her head. It was so perfect, it always was; being with her.

Everything faded when she was in his arms; the chill of the night air, the glow from around the pool and the quiet crackle of the fireplace. When they were alone together, nothing mattered but Emma. Keanu had never felt that way about anyone, not even Diana, the mother of his children, the woman who ran from their family and broke his heart. He’d tried making it work with her for as long as they could, but in the end, she wouldn’t have married him, much less stick around and raise two children. Keanu had almost given up on finding someone, someone who’d love Matt and Poppy the way he did, be the mother they deserved and the woman he’d spent the rest of his life with. Even when he'd met Miranda, there hadn’t been much hope left, but he was willing to make it work. Though, lately, Keanu had taken to wondering if the woman right there in his arms was actually the one he’d been waiting for. She’d taken his breath away with her unmatched beauty and now, with each passing day, he was giving a little more of his heart away to Emma. It wouldn’t be long till she’d own the part he’d reserved for someone special. She was special, “Absolutely stunning."

When Emma turned slightly in his embrace, she found that Keanu was looking right at her, chuckling musically when he bent and nuzzled her cheek and tightening his hug so she couldn't escape his affections. "Are you talking about the view or something else?"

Peppering her cheek with kisses, his rough salt and pepper beard grazing her satiny skin, Keanu hummed, "Maybe someone else….." Finally, Emma spun so they were chest to chest, her arms winding around his neck, tangled her fingers in the ends of his hair, disheveled from wearing his helmet, "You look so beautiful tonight," his eyes softened, gaze clouded over with something uncertain though unwavering, "You're always so beautiful," Keanu leaned down, capturing her lips.

He tasted like tobacco and something uniquely him, the same thing she thought about when falling asleep at night. From the minute they’d first kissed, that night in Paris, tension practically shoving them into each other’s arms, Emma thought that his lips seemed like they were meant to lock with hers; Keanu always knew exactly what she needed.

Tilting her head, Emma let herself melt against him, submitting to the comfort of his warmth and the security of his kiss. Even if everything else was wrong in their lives, even if everyone would inevitably get hurt, at least they had that. Kisses that completed them, even if just for a little while.

A little while.

One day they’d have to go back to living without each other. Inhaling deeply, filling her lungs with the kind of fresh air that was usually absent in the city, Emma pulled away, her hands pressing against Keanu’s chest in unspoken protest, and in an attempt to keep her from walking away, he loosely circled her wrists, “What?” Knitting his brows, he frowned deeply, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” her voice broke unexpectedly, her eyes shining, bright with unshed tears, “Not really, its just…..” The words wouldn't come, at least not the ones that would help Emma elucidate exactly what she wanted Keanu to know. She didn’t want to ruin their one perfect night, but she didn’t want it to be their only perfect night. Emma wanted more, more than she might ever get with him, “You just……you do everything right, you know?” Shaking her head sorrowfully, she sniffled, “Almost everything.”

Casting his head towards their feet, Keanu nodded faintly, his chuckle dry and humorless, “Yeah,” he huffed, “I know what you mean.” Thinking on the matter for a moment, Keanu knew that his heart had been begging him to do the right thing, be the man that they both needed, but he simply couldn’t. Maybe if he didn’t have kids, or were just a few years younger. There were so many ‘maybe’s. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to hug her.

“You always say that,” Emma slunk out from between Keanu and the guard rail, strolling along the balcony, trying to put some space between them so she could think properly, “But nothing changes.”

“I’m trying,” Keanu reasoned.

“Are you?” When Emma turned towards him, some of her hair whipped against her flushed cheeks, “Cause it feels like you’re just saying that to get me to shut up about the real problem.” Scoffing, she swiped at her eyes, “What are we doing Keanu?”

His lips quivered, an explanation absent. There was nothing he could say to fix it, he knew that, but he wanted to, he needed to. Keanu needed her. He knew he’d been playing childish games with Emma, sneaking around and stealing moments. He was too old for it to make sense, and Emma deserved to be more than his shadowed lover. “We’re……” He trailed off, wishing things were easier.

“You know what it feels like?” Folding her arms, Emma ignored the new dryness in her throat, opting not to move when Keanu approached her, racing out to lay a hand on her hip, probably worried that she was about to end things between them.

Licking his lips, Keanu’s gaze flickered to hers and he swore he already knew what she was going to say. He knew because he felt it too, “What?”

Emitting a frustrated sigh, exasperation fueled by the complexity of their lives and the knowledge that things were bound to stay the same unless he changed them. Emma, despite her better senses, raised her hand to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb along the corner of his lips, as she tilted her head to the side, regarding him with obvious pain in her eyes, “It feels like I’m falling in love with you even though I shouldn’t.”

Keanu’s arm slid around to her lower back, urging Emma closer, pecking her forehead, “I’m falling in love with you too,” he whispered, muffled by her skin.

Relived by his admission, Emma relented to holding Keanu in a tight hug, pressing her ear over his steady heartbeat. They stayed like that for a while, faces turned towards the vast ocean beyond the mountain, the water darkened, only defined by the rippling glow; the distance so undefined that it was easy to liken it to themselves. An unbound beauty that may have remained largely unexplored. “Come on,” Emma eventually pulled away, grabbing Keanu’s hands so they wouldn’t be completely separated, “Let’s not waste the rest of our night,” she mustered up a small smile, one that was returned by Keanu who, like her, still seemed troubled, but was willing to put it past them, just they could make the most of their stolen moments.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @nonsensicalobsessions

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x ofc #behind closed doors #nanny au #keanu reeves fanfiction #ff

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Text

it’s just what you do.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: “my problem is that if you bring anymore whores around and it’ll start to feel like a brothel in here. and i am far too young to be a madam.”

word count: 6.0k

a/n: if you’ve read some of my st stories, you know i have a little bit of a love for bratty, bitchy readers lol so here ya go! a bratty bitchy reader in the hg universe! (though the reader is pretty tame for what i usually write for a bitchy!reader) i hope you enjoy, and if you do let me know in some feedback (:

You padded down cold stairs in bare feet, yawning as you did. You could already hear Roman and Peter talking quietly at the breakfast bar over cold cereal and sleep graveled voices as you reached the bottom landing. You stretched your arms above your head with a resounding squeak that announced your entrance.

As you push away unruly strands of hair from your face, you rub your cheek, still sheet streaked and warm to the touch.

“G’morin’ (Y/N).” Peter greeted through a mouth full of milk soaked Sugar Crisp.

“Morning, love.” You replied, placing your hands on his bare shoulders and pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

You let your hands linger on his skin a moment longer before you stepped around him and to the pantry.

“Good morning,” Roman called after you as he watched appreciatively as the hem of your short negligee dusted the tops of your thighs.

You acknowledged him with a hum, but gave him no further greeting. No good morning, no kiss, no smile. Just a hum as you rummaged around searching for your box of oatmeal.

Roman hadn’t come to bed until just before dawn the previous night, only furthering the animosity you felt for him. The new, deep and unrelenting displeasure you held for him now that he had let another woman into your home.

“What? Peter gets a fucking endearment and I don’t get anything?” Roman griped. His voice grated on your ear drums and his angry breathing only served to churn your disdain for him.

You kept mute, clenching your teeth as you gathered a bowl and some milk to make your morning oats.

You pictured turning around to spit in his face, and how it would feel to watch his reaction as your saliva splattered his skin. You’d then tell him to go fuck himself, maybe break a glass while you were at it, anything to get his attention. Or maybe you’d go hop on Peter’s lap, place his hands on your bare thighs and stick your tongue down his throat. That was probably better than any tantrum you could throw. Your boyfriend was nothing if not possessive of what he deemed as his. You fell under that laundry list of Roman’s possessions, though you were unsure if you were soon to be erased and replaced with five new letters.

Because it had been a little over a week since Annie had taken residence in the second guest bedroom. A fucking week of seeing her and Roman eye fuck each other and share whispered conversations. A week of her connecting with Roman on a level you couldn’t understand, of being a part of schemes, of helping him and Peter (something you were never allowed to do) and talking about Nadia. You’re fucking daughter. You swore the next time her mouth began to form the syllables to the child’s name, you were going to strangle her to death. Upir or not, you were sure your pure maternal rage would be no match for her.

And, it had been a goddamn week of you sulking and pouting and seething without Roman taking even the slightest notice, or if he did, not caring a bit. That, more than anything else, is what was truly making you irate.

“(Y/N)? What the hell?” Roman cursed again as you slammed dishes around in cabinets.

Before he could say anything else, another pair of footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Good morning!” Came her happy french lit as she bounded toward the three of you.

You didn’t acknowledge her presence, simply continued on with your oatmeal.

“I still haven’t gotten over the water pressure here. It’s so wonderful,” Annie says, and you’re sure Roman is half hard at her stupid compliment.

You still haven’t looked at her, but you’re picturing her with damp hair and ruddy cheeks from the hot water. Her face smooth and freckled with youth. Her damp hair turning her already light sleepwear see through and sticky.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Roman chimes and your neck prickles with anger.

The ice he was treading on with you was growing thinner and thinner by the moment. Melting under your fiery ire for his behavior. When he finally fell through, you hoped he’d drown.

“What are you planning on doing today? Do you have work?” Annie asks.

“I do, but do you need me for something?”

You scoff much louder than you had anticipated and you can feel three pairs of eyes on your back. You square your shoulders and turn toward the group, but don’t look at any of them. The stupid Hardy Boys with their brand new Nancy Drew, resigning you to be the villain, you supposed.

You walk around the breakfast bar with purpose, turning your body obnoxiously to avoid touching Annie as you pass. You weren’t close to her as she leaned against the counter, but you wanted her to know just how much you loathed her. So much so, that the idea of touching you made you recoil.

“Uhm, no. I was just making conversation.” She replied, her voice wavering after your subtle outburst.

You held back a pleased expression as you went to the couch, sitting at the farthest corner from the kitchen and taking the throw blanket from the back and wrapping yourself in it. You took your first bite of oatmeal and clinked the spoon loudly back in the bowl in protest.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” You hated how your name sounded so melodic coming off her tongue, “Are you feeling alright?”

You don’t reply, just continued to eat your breakfast, looking straight ahead. The tension was palpable in the room as Annie shifted her feet and waited for your response. You wish she would pick up on your clear animosity toward her and quit trying to engage with you. Her efforts were admirable, you’d admit, but with the way she looked at Roman, and the way she spoke to him, there was absolutely no way she could possibly expect you to indulge her.

You could feel Roman’s glare on you, his green eyes burning holes through the knit throw to sear your skin with displeasure. Peter was still turned toward the island, shoulders tense with discomfort at the scene you were creating. You almost felt sorry for him, it wasn’t his fault Roman was being an oblivious asshole (and that you were retaliating the way you were). He didn’t deserve to be caught in the awkward crossfire. Maybe you would sneak him into a corner and feel him up for a bit? He did deserve some pleasure for living with Roman’s pain (and hey, if it made Roman jealous in the process, that would just be a bonas of your good deed).

Soon, Annie recovered from your echoing silence and moved back to talking with Roman and Peter. You could see her out of the corner of your eye, sleep shorts hanging low on her hips and flimsy white t-shirt you had imagined, dipping down from her relaxed stance, giving both men a perfect view down her top. You didn’t have to be looking at Roman to know he was stealing glances.

You stayed on the couch, trying to eat your breakfast, but the oats were soggy and not as good as when Roman made them with cinnamon and maple sugar. You toyed with the beige mush until Roman announced he was off to The Tower. He gathered his jacket and briefcase before saying goodbye to Peter and Annie.

“I’m leaving,” Roman called over to you.

You kept your vow of silence and pretended to be interested in the curdling food before you.

“Jesus fucking-- fine! Goodbye.” He spat, irritated.

You continued to fold your oatmeal around your bowl until the front door slammed shut and Annie spoke after a moment's pause.

“I think I’ll be off, too. I have some errands to run.” Biding you both a quick adui before she exited the kitchen for the stairs.

You huffed to yourself. She could only stand to be around you and Peter when Roman was in attendance.

“I feel like I’m in a high school cafeteria and Annie just took your seat next to Roman.” Peter joked, having heard your annoyed sound.

“Well, she should know I always have an assigned seat next to him,” You said, setting your bowl on the coffee table and crossing your arms.

“Oh my God, (Y/N)! Do you hear yourself?”

“I do, and I know I sound childish but I’ve lost the will to care.”

You hear Peter sigh, then the sound of him getting up from his stool to come sit next to you.

“What’s next? Are you going to spread a rumor about her to make Roman think she’s icky?”

“Like anything I said could make him stop mooning over her,” You reply with disdain.

“He loves you, you know that. He’ll ask you to prom, buy you the most valentines and all that shit.”

“He has a funny way of showing it.” You pout with a furrow of your brows.

“Have you considered just telling him how you feel about Annie staying here?” Peter asked.

“If he can’t figure out on his own why I’m so angry, it’s not my problem.”

“Do you really think that’s fair?”

“No,” You tighten your arms across your chest, “But it’s not my fault that your gender has no emotional intelligence or inference skills.”

Peter chuckles, “All the more reason to just come out and tell Roman how you’re feeling.”

You roll your eyes and give him a half hearted glare, “Don’t you have a job to be getting too?”

“Yes, but I want to make sure you at least mull over my option first.” He nudges you gently with his knee

You give a small pause before a small smirk breaks out over your lips, “I was actually thinking about making out with you to make him jealous. Would you be willing?”

Peter claps his hands down on his thighs and pushes up from the couch, “And with that, suddenly I’m late.”

“Oh c’mon!” You giggle and get up to follow him, “Not even a little peck? Just put your hand on my ass!”

“I would rather keep all my limbs attached, thank you very much.” Peter says as he trouts up the stairs.

“You’ll like it!” You call up after him with a laugh.

“That was never in question, sweetheart! I just like my head on my shoulder and not on Roman’s mantle.”

“It’s my mantle, too.” You mutter, going up the stairs after him and heading to the master bedroom in hopes of avoiding Annie before she left for the day.

You had taken an angry nap until noon and then went downstairs to your office to get some work done. It was during this time that Jane, Roman’s new housekeeper after Anna, informed you there were some nice cuts of meat that would be going bad soon, and if you’d like it for dinner that evening.

“That sounds wonderful, Jane. Thank you.” You replied, peering at her over your computer screen.

“Would you like to ask Mr. Godfrey if he would like steak for this evening? Or if another night would be better?” Roman was known to work late, so this question wasn’t unreasonable to ask.

“I’d call him and ask, but unfortunately I am about to hop on a conference call and don’t have a spare minute. Would you mind calling to ask?” You asked in your sweetest voice.

“Of course, Ms. (Y/L/N).” Anna gave you a smile before she parted from the room.

You sighed, and went back to your riveting game of solitaire.

That night with burgundy stained lips, you sat at the head of your long dining table waiting for Roman to return for work. The beautiful reclaimed wood table that you had excitedly picked out at an estate sale that you had seen Annie sitting on just two days before. Swinging her legs like a child and eating a peach while letting Roman ogle her as the juice dripped down her flawless skin. You had slammed the front door so hard that the frame shook.

As you guzzled down your third glass of Merlot, Peter kicked your foot. A silent plea to slow down, so this evening didn’t explode with your loose lipped temper. But, you paid him no mind. You mostly just thought about how much you hated Annie for making you hate her. Hate her, and Roman. Because, really, you weren’t one of those women who stewed in jealousy or was in a constant fear of their partner cheating. Maybe that was because Roman had always been clear in his devotions to you. Sure, his eyes would wander when an attractive woman passed, but you knew he never acted on it. You had a trust in him that had never wavered until now.

You didn’t want to be one of those women who hated other women or demonized them for having your boyfriend’s attention. You didn’t want to be the girlfriend that men could point at and make stereotypical remarks about your possessiveness and label you “crazy” because of your actions in this scenario behind the three of you… but you were near the end of your rope and the woman had barely been staying with you two weeks. You were starting to question that unmoving trust you placed in Roman and it made you sick. All you could hope was that you were wrong… or at least that Peter would have told you if something happened between Annie and Roman by now.

Half way through your fourth glass, the front door sounded open and in sauntered Roman, with Annie in tow.

“Nice of you both to join us,” Peter teased, though you saw a split second of panic cross his features. You knew he didn’t want to play into your paranoia and had just done so unwillingly.

“Oh yes, we just happened to run into each other in the driveway,” Annie said, throwing a beaming grin over her shoulder at Roman who offered her a smile.

“How coincidental,” You offered over the rim of your glass.

Everyone in the room darted their gaze to you, clearly surprised that you had decided to end your silent streak.

“Yes, I suppose it was.” Annie replies, her smile still intact, “Now what’s all this then?”

“Jane noticed some food that was going to go bad in the fridge and offered to make a nice meal for us.” You said evenly.

You remembered when us just meant you and Roman.

“How thoughtful,” Annie said, looking to Jane who thanked her quietly.

“Ms. (Y/L/N) was a great help with it as well,” Jane said, opening another bottle of wine as you had almost polished off the one she had originally opened for the evening.

Ms. (Y/L/N). Not Mrs. Godfrey. You were easy to be rid of, exiled at a moments notice.

Jane was been modest. You had sat with her while she cooked and idly chatted, handing her utensils and chopping up garlic, but nothing else. You were sure she was trying to get Roman to take notice of your efforts, which you thought was sweet. You hadn’t come out and explicitly talked about your problems with Roman to Jane, you were sure she had figured it out on her own.

See that Roman? Your housekeeper knows more about what’s wrong than you do!

“Well, thank you, (Y/N). It looks wonderful.” Annie said.

You might have even thanked her through gritted teeth, had Roman not just pulled out a seat for her and gently pushed it back in. Instead, you settled back into your discontented humming and poured what was left of the original bottle of wine into your glass.

Peter could sense your inebriation level bordering on dangerous, so he quickly raised a glass in distraction.

“Let’s make a toast! We don’t get to have such a fancy dinner this often, y’know?” He smiled through his unease, and if you weren’t almost five glasses deep you might have even caught the desperate looks he was throwing you.

The please-for-the-love-of-god-don’t-start-a-fight-with-me-here looks.

“Well, how about to (Y/N) and Jane? For making this feast?” Annie offered, raising her glass to match Peter’s.

“Yes,” Roman said, his voice tight, “To (Y/N). And Jane of course.”

His eyes bore into you, both of you on opposing heads of the table. He raised his wine in the air like he was challenging you to a game you weren’t sure the rules of. You had never felt so uncomfortable in his presence ever before, and suddenly the idea that something was really wrong between the two of you seemed more plausible.

You raise your glass to your honor, but don't cheer’s anyone, just simply place the glass back to your lips.

Everyone then went around dishing out food on their plates and passing bowls to each other. Annie was always sure to pass to Roman first and he was always the first to offer her what he was holding. You felt like you and Peter were intruders on the romantic dinner that you had cooked for them (well, helped cook).

“Oh, I have some of Pryce’s plasma left in the fridge, do you want any?” Roman offered to Annie as she took a dish of mashed potatoes from him.

“If you wouldn’t mind. Thank you,” She accepted his offer so meek and polite you almost gagged.

Maybe this was meant to be? She was the perfect little wife for Roman after all. Sweet, attentive, was just subversive enough to seem interesting, an upir. The latter was likely the best contender for why Roman would be kicking you to the curb soon. It made sense, they were the same and she was new. And don’t all men want some new pussy after a while? You were no stranger to Roman’s reputation, and you had been reminded by many a peer of his serial adultery in the past… you had just hoped he’d outgrown it when he fell in love with you.

Roman came back with the plasma and leaned over Annie’s shoulder to fill her glass. You heard her take a sharp intake of breath at his closeness and watched as she glanced up at his face, which was mere inches from her own.

You ground your knife hard into the porcelain of your plate, and the sound broke her from her Godfrey trance. You pretend nothing happened and put a green bean in your mouth.

You tuned out the table’s conversations about their days and recent events, feeling isolated and somber. The wine was no doubt contributing to your sadness, but the residual feelings of neglect and rejection were getting to you. Because if Roman really cared, wouldn’t he have pulled you aside by now and just asked you if you were alright? Why you had been avoiding him, why you wouldn’t kiss him goodnight or good morning? Or did he just truly not care at all? Had you been replaced so easily?

You continued to sulk and play over a fictional break up in your head when a topic caught your attention.

“Any news on Nadia?” Annie asked as she swallowed a piece of bread.

Not the baby. Not your baby. Not the child. But Nadia. This woman who was trying to usurp your place in Roman’s life while you were still very present, had just again spoken your daughter's name. Like she had the fucking right.

Before Roman could answer, you pushed up from your seat, again causing all eyes to attach to you. You walked over to the fridge and obtained an old bottle of steak sauce (that you didn’t even want, you were just angry) and returned back to the table with a scowl.

And it seemed this most recent outburst was Roman’s tipping point.

“What the fuck is up with you?” He bellowed, throwing his hand in the air with similar fervor.

“Nothing.” You replied with a snap.

“Sure as shit fooled me! Because you’ve been acting like a fucking brat for the past week. So, why don’t you share with the class what’s on your mind, hmm?” Roman leaned back in his seat and dramatically gestured for you to speak.

“You wanna know my problem, Roman?” You bit out.

Peter was likely already planning his escape.

“That’s what I said.”

“My problem is that if you bring one more whore into this house, it’s gonna start to feel like a brothel. And I am far too young to be a madam.”

And there it was. Grievances were now aired, and unfortunately in front of your two house guests.

Roman’s jaw tensed and flexed as he stared you down, “Peter. Annie. Would you excuse us?”

Both stood without any more prompting and scurried to the stairwell as you and Roman continued to glare at each other in silence. When you heard the twin sounds of doors shutting, Roman finally spoke.

“So you’ve been a fucking nightmare because Annie is staying here? Are you kidding?” He scoffed.

“Don’t belittle me,” You ran a hand through your hair and looked away from his piercing gaze.

“What? Like you just did to Annie?” He motioned to where she had sat.

“Oh,” You mock, “Roman, her knight in shining armour. I’m sure it’s hard to save her when you’re up on your high horse.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“I’m talking about this fucking obsession you have with this woman! This obsession your culviating right under my nose and in my home.”

“Are you fucking serious?” He spits.

“Yes, I am. And don’t play so god damn naive. If the roles were reversed, you would have thrown a fit by now! Fuck, a fit! Fuck any amount of tantrums I could even begin to think of throwing! You would have murdered someone by now.” You seethed.

Roman looked at you with a bewildered expression, his eyes bugging and his mouth agape, stuttering for words, “So, you’ve really just been jealous? Fucking Christ!”

“Like you wouldn’t be if the tables were turned.”

“Fuck off about if the tables were turned. We’re talking about you, not me.”

“No! We are talking about you, Roman. This is just as much about you as it is me.” You shout, “And it has everything to do with the tables being turned. Because if I invited a man to stay in this house -- our house -- and all he ever did was fawn over me and I batted my eyelashes at him and giggled at everything he said while in nothing but a towel you would give yourself an aneurysm.”

“Stop changing the subject,” Roman snarled.

“Can you tell me with absolute and utter certainty that if I offered some guy a room, then spent all my time with him, had little inside jokes with him and touched him, you wouldn’t be angry?”

Roman doesn’t respond, just resets his jaw.

“So, if this man told me how beautiful I was, flirted with me and would never shut up about how similar we were, you wouldn’t be mad?” Roman just clenched.

“What if you started to suspect that I was fucking him, huh? What if you started to think about him inside me? Kissing me? Making me cum? Making me--”

Roman’s fist connecting with the tabletop cut you off.

“Enough! You win, OK? I would hate it, alright? I’d fucking kill him.”

“Thank you! That’s all I wanted. I just wanted you to see my side of this fucking story. Why I have been so mad.” You deflate against your chair, though you know this fight is far from over.

“And you didn’t just tell me, why?” Roman inquires.

“Because you should have known! I know that sounds ridiculous and I can see you rolling your eyes, but you should have known that I was upset and asked me what was wrong.” You said, tears bubbling up, causing your throat to constrict.

“I did ask you! I asked you this morning.”

“Yeah, in front of fucking Peter. Like I was going to tell you then… and you didn’t even mean it when you asked. If I would have told you, you would’ve just yelled at me and made me seem like I was crazy. I wasn’t going to open up to you when I already thought you thought I was being stupid.”

“You thought that I thought? Jesus… I have no idea what you want from me…” Roman sighs, reaching around the back of his chair to retrieve his cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

“I want you to hear me when I say that having Annie here, a woman who so clearly wants to fuck you, bothers me. A woman who you are clearly attracted to, a woman who is clearly attracted to you. It hurts me that you’re letting her stay here, especially when you didn’t even ask me if she could.” You were barely holding off the overflow of tears from your eyes at this point and you knew the second you started to cry this would all be over. Because you would start to blubber and Roman would get irritated that you couldn’t get a word out.

“Let me get this straight: I’m attracted to Annie, she’s attracted to me? So I’m going to have sex with her? And what? Leave you? Is that right?” Roman puffs around his cigarette, the condescension in his tone unbearable.

And your dam broke, the tears threatening to breach your lash line were flowing freely now. Why Roman wasn’t able to just see that something was hurting you and help change, was beyond you. You decided right then and there that you refused to let him have the satisfaction of watching you cry. You were done, for an unforeseeable amount of time.

“You’re so fucking mean.”

You sucked your teeth loudly before pushing up from your seat and heading for the front door.

“C’mon, what are you doing now?” Roman groaned, turning to watch you leave over his shoulder.

“I’m done. I’m going to Destiny’s.” You said curtly, taking your purse and keys from the hook in the entryway.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. I’m done, Roman.” You slung your purse of your shoulder and clutched your keys tight.

“What for tonight or forever?” He asked like he was calling your bluff.

“If you can’t understand why I am so hurt, then I don’t know. Maybe forever.”

“Hey, woah, what?” Roman’s voice was startled as he got up from his seat and rushed to the door, “No, you aren’t leaving. This conversation isn’t over.”

He planted a large hand on the door handle, preventing you from opening it. You could feel his hulking figure behind you and you wanted to shrink under his size, but stayed strong.

“Roman, move your hand.”

“You’re not fucking leaving. Let’s just talk this out, OK?” He bargained.

You tried to pry Roman’s long fingers from the handle, but even with all your might working to untangle their hold, he was just too strong.

“I’ll listen, OK? I’m sorry, just let’s talk. Let’s talk about this.” His knuckles were turning white below you. You could see his bones threatening to break the surface of his reddening skin.

“Are you going to listen to me, or just dismiss and make fun of me? Because if you do Roman, I’ll just go out the back door.”

“I will. Promise.” He sounded sincere. Maybe now that he knew you were serious, he was more receptive to what you had to say.

You turned to press your back to the door and look up at him. The fear on his face was surprising to you. You hadn’t expected him to be so scared at the prospect of your leaving, he sure hadn’t cared that you were around since Annie arrived.

“I’m mad at you.” You stated frankly.

“Yeah, I caught that.” He sighs.

“I don’t like how you act around Annie. It’s disrespectful to me. I’m not a woman who cares when you look, but when you start to flirt and threaten to touch? I’m done, Roman. I’m not kidding.” You raised your eyebrows as Roman listened intently.

“I never touched.” He swore.

“Yes, but you’ve flirted and “innocently” touched. Flirted, touched and now you are starting to look at her like you looked at me.”

“I have never looked at her the way I look at you.”

You scoffed, then pantomimed his love lorn expression for him, clasping your hands over your heart theatrically.

He just rolled his eyes, “I’ve never looked at Annie like that.”

“Trust me, you have.” You say, ducking under his outstretched arm to walk back to the kitchen.

“Baby…”

“Don’t baby me, I’m still pissed.” You started to gather the abandoned plates to put in the sink for Jane.

“Then what can I do, huh? How do we work this out?” He asks, running a hand through his hair.

“Let me just ask you something,” You abruptly turn from the sink to face him, “Do you want to fuck her?”

Roman sucks in a deep intake of breath and opens his mouth, but closes it just as quickly.

Your tears threaten once more. You already knew his answer was yes, though all but hearing him say it was worse.

“Ok, let me ask you something else. Have you slept with her?”

“No! Absolutely not, baby. Never.” Roman said, taking a step toward you.

“And why should I believe you when I know that you want to have sex with her? Hm?” You crossed your arms.

“Because you know I love you. Because you know that I can’t even stomach the idea of my life without you,” Roman says, his tone frighteningly serious.

You look at him for a long moment, his eyes pleading for you to speak while you collected what you wanted to say next.

“Do you want to leave me for her?” You finally said, trying your best to sound collected.

“Baby, hey--”

“No, just listen Roman,” You took a breath, “Because, you know, if you wanna be with her, be with her. Just do it. Don’t string me along because you’re scared of losing more people. Because I get it, I mean I do. She’s an upir, you’re an upir... You have shared experience and she can teach you about what you are and just… Roman if you leave me just don’t be a pussy and cheat on me. Just break up with me.”

Roman looked at you bewildered and once again stammered for his words. For a moment, you were planning on looking at the price of U-Hauls; on how long you could stay with Destiny before you were intruding; if you would stay in Hemlock Grove because it was less expensive or just go straight to shopping for places in Philly?

But Roman doesn’t sigh and tell you it’s over. He doesn’t let you down easy or even scream and stomp his feet.

He just says:

“I love you more than I have loved anyone in my entire life. Family, friends, whatever. It doesn’t matter because you win. You always win. I’m not breaking up with you, alright? Jesus fucking Christ, nothing sounds worse to me than that.” Roman takes a long stride toward you to look soulfully into your eyes.

“Yeah, I think Annie’s hot and yes, she’s an upir. So fucking what? I’m not going to leave you because of that! I could give a shit about either of those things when you’re right under my nose.”

Your pick at your nail polish as you listen to him, feeling embarrassed. But Roman doesn’t let you wallow as he tilts you by the chin to look at him.

“I should’ve asked you if she could stay, I’ll admit that. I shouldn’t have been so chummy with her, either. And yeah, I probably should’ve just asked you why you were being so fucking moody. But you should have told me what was wrong without pouting.”

“I just wanted you to come to me and ask… for some reason I convinced myself if you asked me what was wrong, it was a sign that you still loved me.” Saying it out loud made your face heat uncomfortably.

“I love you, but that has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Roman chuckles.

“Don’t be rude,” You huff, pushing him gently by the shoulder, “Letting another random woman stay here was the real stupid thing.”

“How about we call it a draw?”

“I think I can handle that…”

“Ok, then it’s a deal. I’m sorry, you’re sorry, it’s all good.” Roman pinches your chin lightly to hold your face in place to place a soft kiss to your lips.

You hadn’t kissed him in days, and the feeling made you whimper.

“Is there anything else you need to get off your chest crazy lady?” Roman asks, his breath dusting your mouth with a smirk on his face.

You push him again, with more strength this time.

“I don’t like when Annie mentions Nadia. She is our daughter and hearing that woman say her name makes me go into like, hyper lioness mode and all I think about is punching her.”

Roman’s eyes widened.

“I do not need another woman sticking her nose in our business with our daughter. May I remind you that’s how we got into this whole mess in the first place?”

Roman sucks in a deep breath through his nose, “That’s fair.”

“I already miss her, I don’t need some woman who’s trying to hop on my boyfriend’s cock talking about her.” You were starting to get angry again.

And fucking Roman, he just smiles.

“Hearing you call her our daughter, calling me your boyfriend, all while being on a little jealous rampage? I gotta admit baby, it’s got me hard as a rock.”

“It always comes back to your weird primal possession,” You roll your eyes.

“Eh, you knew that from the beginning.” He shrugs.

“You’re still not totally forgiven, y’know?”

“Yeah? And what do I have to do to get out of the dog house, baby?” His smile turns devious.

“I want Annie out of this house,” You began.

“Done.” Roman cups your face as he started to walk you back toward the counter.

“I don’t want you seeing her without someone else present, or without telling me first. Not because I don’t trust you, but because--”

“--You don’t trust her. Got it,” Roman says, firmly pressing your lower back to the marble slab now.

“You know I have an intuition about these things,” You purse your lips in a pout as Roman begins to trail kisses across your jaw, “You should really be thanking me. I just know Annie’s going to turn out to be bad news. I have a feeling.”

He laughs, “Is there anything else, baby?”

“Yes…” You pause, “I want an inground pool. You promised me one when we moved in and the plans keep getting pushed back. I want to go swimming.”

“I’ll get the plans drawn up tomorrow,” He sucks on your pulse point.

“And you have to buy me as many bikinis as I want, designer ones, and I don’t want to hear one peep out of you about the price.” You crane your neck to give him more access to continue his sweet assault on your skin.

“I’ll leave you with my credit card so you can order as many as you want.”

Roman moves from your neck to look down at you, his cocky persona flickering for a moment so you can see the sweet eyes of a lovesick boy hoping for forgiveness.

“Like I don’t already know the number,” You smile, letting him know that it had been granted.

He groaned, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I love you, too.” And you reached up to kiss him fiercely.

i hope you enjoyed! this was fun to write, i love writing a moody!reader lol. if you did enjoy, let me know with a comment or reblog (: ‘til next time, ily! *lets hope third times the charm and this ends up in the tags lol

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

Text

wherefore art thou, romeo? | an osamu x f!reader one-shot

pairing: osamu miya x f!reader

word count: 6.1k words

contains: a boatload of crack, fluff if you squint, high school setting, more bickering than working on the actual play, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, brief mentions of the romeo and juliet with leonardo di caprio in it

summary: being best friends with the miya twins for years has prepared you for all of their shenanigans but even you’re taken by surprise when osamu, the guy you’ve been in love with for years, nominates you to play juliet for the class play and atsumu to play romeo

a/n: *squints at word count* okay this was supposed to be released in three chapters but i ended up writing all of it in one go and i didn’t know exactly where to separate the chapters so here it goes

the day started out fairly normal, if fairly normal meant that your two best friends were using your ruler to divide a candy bar accurately into two during homeroom while waiting for the teacher, could be called ‘fairly normal.’ but when those two friends were the miya twins, that’s how normal things got. the teacher arrived a bit later, announcing some reminders about the cultural festival dates, before the time was handed over to the Class President, a guy with glasses and straight black hair that you and your friends just called ‘Mr. President.’

“for the cultural festival, our class, due to majority votes, has decided to put on the play: ‘Romeo and Juliet,’“ Mr. President announced. judging from his cheeky smile, you could tell that he may have had a hand in those ‘majority votes.’

“aw, yuck. don’t tell me ya voted for that, y/n,” atsumu nudged you from behind your desk.

“why are you assuming its me?” you grumbled, batting his hand away.

“aw, no crepe cafe then,” osamu said sullenly beside you. your gaze was pulled to him, as it always was. now that the spring inter-high was over, osamu was mostly in his school uniform, not that you minded. his silver hair, that he got in trouble with the principal for, was pushed haphazardly to the side and gleamed in the sunlight.

“now,” Mr. President continued. “what we have to decide on right now is who gets which acting roles and who gets to do the technical jobs.”

“painting sets? painting sets?” atsumu poked you and osamu.

“hmm, i’d kind of like to work on the lights,” you hummed, already imagining yourself scrolling through your phone and switching on the spotlight once every few minutes. osamu was quiet and you knew he was probably thinking of painting sets too.

“now, is there anyone who’d like to volunteer for playing romeo?” Mr. President asked, surveying the class. “you can also nominate people and--”

osamu abruptly raised his hand up. your eyes widened, wondering if he was going to volunteer. atsumu had the same concern.

“whoa, whoa. don’t tell me yer thinkin’ of playing romeo?” atsumu laughed incredulously.

but that isn’t what osamu did. in full Dramatic Flair, osamu miya pointed at his twin and announced “i nominate miya atsumu to play romeo.”

the laughter in atsumu’s voice died as quickly as the class erupted into murmurs. based on the snatches of conversation you heard, atsumu was going to be wielding a sword and probably wearing tights.

“okay, that’s one nomination for atsumu to play romeo,” Mr. President nodded, writing atsumu’s name on the board. you stifled a giggle as you heard atsumu stand up in his seat behind you.

“wait! wait! i nominate ‘samu to play romeo!” atsumu exclaimed hurriedly. the reaction wasn’t as loud as before and osamu flashed his twin a smug grin.

“i’ll make sure to get a nice, bright spotlight on you,” you smiled cheekily at him.

“so, we have atsumu-san nominated to play romeo and--”

“i’m not done,” osamu interrupted. “i also nominate y/n to play juliet.”

if atsumu reacted at a snail’s pace, yours was quite similar to how ketchup fell out of a bottle: none at first, before coming out all at once. within that length of time you spent staring into the void, Mr. President already wrote down your name on the blackboard and proceeded with the rest of the nominations (there weren’t any). the class voted, and you just barely felt someone pat you on the back to congratulate you for the role.

it was right when the decision over the roles was over when you turned slowly towards osamu, who had the audacity to flash a peace sign at you, and whisper ‘what have you done?’

...

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YA NOMINATED US TO PLAY ROMEO AND JULIET!” you and atsumu practically screamed at osamu during lunch break and for the rest of the day until you got to the miya twins’ house, where you spent most of your time, and cracked open the script that Mr. President handed out.

“sheesh, that was hours ago. get over it already,” osamu said, not looking up from the book he was reading: Beginner Techniques in Set Design. you didn’t even think he was reading, just mocking you and atsumu about the fact that he got the awesome job of painting sets.

“it was hours ago but atsumu and i are stuck with rehearsals for weeks!” you complained.

“not only that, but we’d have ta read shit and memorize shit,” atsumu seethed. “and we know that y/n sucks at that!”

“hey! i bet i could do better than you!”

“i don’t think ya can!”

osamu watched the battle from the top of his book, smiling to himself as you and atsumu quickly got into one of your fights that distracted you from the main reason behind the fight: osamu himself. ‘they’re still just like kids,’ he thought, watching you proceed to trap atsumu in a headlock.

the three of you had been the best of friends since grade school when you pushed atsumu off a jungle gym and osamu laughed and high-fived you. it was when the three of you were eating breakfast after a sleepover in your first year of high school, when you said that atsumu only had two brain cells and that ‘one was a skater boy, the other said see you later boy’ and osamu laughed so hard he got milk coming out of his house, that he realized he just might be in love with you.

“so, why didn’t you nominate yourself to play romeo?” suna asked him the next day while they were in the middle of stapling felt stars on a piece of dark blue fabric. like osamu, he was also lucky enough to be put in set design. “i mean, if you like her so much.”

“because i don’t want to play romeo,” osamu said as-a-matter-of-factly. “and i think making ‘tsumu do it is hilarious.”

“you really do have a one-track mind,” suna hummed and turned around to where atsumu and y/n were already busy working on the scene where romeo and juliet meet.

“ugh i have to kiss her hand?”

“well, do you want to kiss my foot?”

“i’d rather kick ya in the face!”

“you know, i feel like this on its own would make a great play,” suna said, watching the scene.

“a romeo and juliet where the lovers actually hate each other but their opposing families desperately want to push them into an arranged marriage. sounds pretty neat,” osamu mused.

“okay, why don’t you two take a break, collect yourselves, and then we’ll come back in ten,” Mr. President sighed. at that, you and atsumu quickly stopped quarreling and stalked off in different directions. you headed straight for osamu and suna.

“sometimes i can’t tell who’s the more insufferable one between you two,” you narrowed your eyes at osamu who had the audacity (the only thing he never seemed to run out of) to smile innocently.

“it’s one of life’s greatest mysteries. like, whether the chicken or the egg came first,” suna added.

“just give it a few weeks. atsumu will soon embrace his fate and you’ll be an amazing juliet,” osamu patted the top of your head. if you weren’t so annoyed with him you would have felt the butterflies in your stomach. except now you just wanted to bite his hand off.

“you know what, i’m going to kita’s later,” you muttered, pulling your phone out to text kita shinsuke, aka your adoptive mother.

“hmm? why?” osamu asked.

“because he’s the only sane person i know. plus he’ll help me out with my lines,” you explained, sighing with relief when you got a prompt reply from kita.

“oh, well i was planning to buy some convenience store snacks that i saw on sale for when i do homework later,” osamu said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“maybe next time,” you smiled apologetically. “but in the meantime, maybe get your twin over there to memorize his and not fuck up.” osamu looked up at his brother who was holding the script up a few inches from his face.

“you’re right,” osamu agreed. “but, it would also be funny to edit out a few words here and there.” you returned his cheeky grin.

“you read my mind.”

...

“kitaaa what if it means something that osamu chose to make me and atsumu romeo and juliet,” you groaned, face planted on the coffee table in kita’s living room while he peeled tangerines. “like, what if he realized i actually liked him for this long and this is his way of friend-zoning me?”

“osamu’s the kind of person who’d tell you right away if he doesn’t have the same feelings for you,” kita shook his head.

“that means he’s going to reject me soon!” you sat up, planting your hands on the table.”

“y/n, you’re doing it again,” kita gently reminded. “think of it this way, maybe he nominated you to play juliet because he wants to see you as juliet. but he’s not fully ready for the commitment so he nominated atsumu to be romeo.”

“or he just wants to mess with us, which is probably the case,” you chuckled half-heartedly. “maybe i’ll just believe that.”

“or, think of it this way,” kita placed a peeled tangerine into your hand, like the mom friend that he was. “you could use the opportunity to be the best juliet ever, someone that osamu can barely tear his eyes away from.”

“and i can show up atsumu at the same time!” you grinned at the idea. kita sighed.

“you know, i feel like your sheer desire to just beat atsumu at everything may be a hindrance but go on.”

“yeah, yeah, you lost me at ‘beat atsumu at everything’,” you sang as you cracked open your script. “now help me. i have to memorize all this by tomorrow.”

...

“i think yer all wondering why i’ve gathered ya here today,” atsumu began.

“we’re... in the volleyball clubroom,” aran spoke slowly.

“which is where we always hang out,” suna added. atsumu raised an eyebrow and a hand to silence them, which sometimes worked.

“i’ve gathered ya guys to form the all-important, top-secret team with only one goal in mind!” atsumu paused for dramatic effect, which suna purposely ruined by coughing. “we’re gonna to get myself out of playing romeo for the class play.”

“let me guess, whatever it takes?” aran asked, his arms folded.

“whatever it takes!”

and atsumu took that completely seriously. the next day, he gathered aran and suna to the clubroom again to execute his master plan, version 1: operation casting call.

“get it? cause, ya know, i’m part of a cast, and i’ll be showing up in a cast,” atsumu grinned proudly, showing off the roll of bandages that he bought yesterday at a drugstore.

“okay, first of all: lame pun,” aran sighed. “secondly, that’s not a cast you’re just wrapping your foot in bandages and not encasing it in plaster which i think was what you were originally going for. lastly, do you realize just how many holes your plan has?”

“oh yeah? like what?” atsumu crossed his arms and scoffed.

“like the fact that your twin brother would know whether or not you were injured yesterday,” suna brought up.

“...i’ll jus’ say that i sprained my ankle jus’ now,” atsumu said.

“as if he’s going to believe you,” suna snorted.

“i’m just saying, please ditch this plan before you embarrass yourself,” aran sighed. atsumu felt his face heat up with embarrassment.

“sh-shut up! this plan is gonna work and i’m not gonna play fuckin’ romeo for another day!” atsumu snapped. “now help bind my foot.”

aran and suna looked at each other. “you’re taking a video of what’s happening later,” aran said while suna nodded.

“i hate ya guys,” atsumu crossed his arms.

a few minutes later, his foot was all wrapped up thanks to aran and atsumu was propped up on suna as he hobbled into the classroom. with full dramatic flair that he never seemed to run out of, atsumu slid open the door to the classroom.

“Mr. President! sorry to say this but i sprained my ankle!” he cried. everyone inside turned to look at him with you raising an eyebrow at the dubious looking ‘sprained ankle.’

“you know, if you spoke like that all the time you’d make a great romeo,” his twin quickly piped up from near the door where he was busy painting a tree.

“shut up ‘samu, ya traitor,” atsumu muttered at him. Mr. President had walked closer and inspected the bound foot.

“osamu, is this true?” he asked.

“w-wha? don’t ya believe me?” atsumu splattered. beside him, suna had already brought out his phone. mad, atsumu pushed himself off his ‘friend’ and tapped his ‘sprained’ foot on the ground. ‘it hurts! see! ow!” atsumu lied.

quick as a flash, osamu kicked atsumu’s good foot, causing him to hop on his ‘sprained’ foot.

“fuck! ‘samu!” he yelled.

“well, i guess there’s nothing to worry about,” Mr. President smiled and clapped his hands together. “and atsumu-san, that was a good attempt at acting. i hope you channel that passion into rehearsal today.”

atsumu could do nothing else but mumble. “yeah, fine...”

...

“i can’t believe atsumu even thought that his plan would work,” you laughed, recounting the events of earlier that day. you were sprawled across the wooden floor backstage the theater your class was going to use for the cultural festival. osamu was right beside you, painting one of the backdrops for the play.

“i really do think all the brainpower went to me sometimes,” osamu mused as he carefully painted the sky around the white clouds. there was a look of pure concentration on his face that made you think that maybe osamu was quite excited to do the set design for the play. ‘it’s always the things that you don’t really expect him to get into,’ you wondered as you watched him.

“hey, is this shade of blue a bit too... blue?” he asked, holding the paintbrush to you. you scooted over next to him, grateful for the excuse to be nearer osamu.

“it could use a bit more white to look more like the sky,” you answered.

“hmm, can you pass me that can of white from over there?”

“sure, let me just-- hey!”

a splatter of blue paint landed on your nose as osamu swiped his paint brush over it. once again, he had the audacity to snicker as you grabbed the paint brush from him to splatter blue paint over his hair.

“you are so dead, miya osamu,” you narrowed your eyes and grinned at him as you picked up the tube of red paint from beside your knees.

“wait, wait y/n,” osamu laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “that’s red paint right there.”

“you didn’t seem to have a problem with brushing light blue paint on my nose!” you exclaimed pointing at your face.

“well, it is a bit of a good look because it brings out your eyes--” he was cut off by you squirting red paint right at his face. slowly, osamu raised a hand to touch the paint on his cheek. “you know, i kind of deserve that.”

“you definitely do,” you stared down at him with both hands on your hips before bursting out laughing. osamu blinked up at you before joining in the laughter. even with your blue nose, you still looked absolutely radiant. just like how you were earlier during rehearsals as you did your best performance of juliet. you captured everyone’s attention and even atsumu actually made an effort to get to your level.

“come on,” osamu chuckled, standing up and ruffling your hair with the hand that still had red paint on it. “let’s go wash up.”

the feeling of him ruffling your hair was such an old and familiar gesture that you couldn’t even remember when osamu started doing that. but you could clearly remember everything else you did when you were kids. watching cartoons and mixing different kinds of cereal in the morning, trying to climb up the drainpipes into each other’s rooms, the endless cycle of calling each other names, crying from too much teasing, and saying sorry only to forget two minutes later.

you watched, head cocked to the side as osamu washed the paint from his face while you dried your hair. he didn’t realize just how much soap he was getting in his eyes and the cute, childishness of it made you giggle.

“what?” osamu looked, or rather, turned his head to you.

“your eyes are going to burn at this rate,” you snickered, stepping over to him and placing your hands under the faucet before gently washing the soap from osamu’s face. you didn’t even realize what you were doing until you were doing it and by then, it was too late. osamu didn’t seem to mind, not even when you used the towel around his neck to pat his face dry.

“there, now you just have a big red stain on your nose,” you laughed nervously as osamu opened his eyes.

“at least it goes with my hair,” osamu snickered, tossing his towel over your head before ruffling it. you felt your face heat up and smiled awkwardly at him in response.

“is this your idea of trying to dry my hair?”

“i think it’s kind of working.”

“it’s not working,” you laughed, taking the towel from him. “but thanks.” you felt your throat tighten with the words you wanted but were too afraid to say. you didn’t know when you started falling for one of your best friends and maybe it was thanks to all the shoujo manga you’ve read for years, but you knew that the best friend and the main character rarely ever got together.

luckily, it was osamu who said something. “you know, you were pretty good earlier as juliet. i bet ‘tsumu was threatened,” he laughed, lifting his bag and starting to walk towards the school exit. you jogged to catch up to him.

“no thanks to you though,” you snorted.

“hey, it’s all for the sake of making memories,”

“we could have made memories while painting sets,” you huffed. “you know, like more paint fights.” osamu flashed a sideways smile at you.

“we’d have those regardless. i wanted to see you as juliet.”

you could feel your heart beating loudly in your ears as you forced yourself to think of a million other reasons as to why osamu would say that, only to focus on the single, most probable one that could mean everything you’ve ever dreamed of coming true. “osamu, i--”

“i can’t believe ya left me!” atsumu exclaimed loudly behind you two, causing you to jump. you turned around just as he slung his arms around both of you and his twin.

“i can’t believe you thought pretending to sprain your ankle would work,” osamu muttered, looking slightly annoyed at his twin.

“shut up! i can’t believe ya’d break my cover! my own brother!”

“i think you two are way past that already,” you snickered, slightly annoyed at atsumu’s sudden appearance but unable to admit that you didn’t miss having him around either.

‘if i never get to confess to osamu, i’ll still have this,’ you thought, with a satisfied smile on your face.

...

“no offense, atsumu, but i think you should just move on from the fact that your plan to get yourself out of playing romeo just isn’t going to work,” suna said, lounging across his friend’s bed and uploading the video he took of atsumu’s ‘master plan’ failing. “just accept your fate, like what romeo did.” atsumu stopped pacing and regarded suna with a raised eyebrow.

“ya read the play?”

“i read the summary,” suna answered. “at this rate, everyone knows you’re going to be faking some accident.” atsumu made no response and suna realized he needed just one more push. “also, you’re basically losing to y/n.”

that got atsumu’s attention. “since when did she wanna be juliet anyway?” he muttered.

just then, the door to their room flew open and in walked a very excited aran carrying a relic from the past, an actual DVD in its case, and a bag from the convenience store.

“yer late,” atsumu scowled at him.

“yeah, and you didn’t listen to what i said and looked really dumb earlier,” aran said, much to atsumu’s embarrassment. “anyway, i think i have a solution to your woes,” he grinned, presenting the DVD to the two of them.

“what the fuck am i gonna do with movie ‘romeo and juliet?’“ atsumu frowned.

“it’s not just any romeo and juliet movie, it’s the romeo and juliet movie!” aran said enthusiastically. “starring leonardo di caprio!”

“who now?”

“he’s the guy who didn’t win an oscar for years until the bear movie,” suna explained.

“ooooohhh.”

“you uncultured shits,” aran sighed. “anyway, atsumu, just accept your fate--”

“that’s what i’ve been trying to tell him!”

“... and open your eyes to how awesome it is to play romeo!” aran finished. atsumu looked from the DVD in his friend’s hands, to suna on his bed, and to the bag of convenience store snacks, before sighing and nodding.

“if i decide it’s shit ten minutes in, we’re dropping the movie and yer all gonna tell me i’m right.”

but he was wrong, oh so wrong.

just like every middle-aged mom or english literature university student who watched Romeo + Juliet, atsumu was pulled in by leonardo di caprio’s sincere, expressive eyes. he practically swooned at the scene where romeo and juliet met from different sides of the fish tank to that iconic pool kiss, and by the end of the movie, atsumu almost teared up. he tried to hold back his emotions, in the hopes of not looking lame in front of his friends, only to find aran practically sobbing and suna clutching his knees to his chest.

“that was... really fucking beautiful,” atsumu cursed as the credits rolled.

“do you understand now? what it means to play romeo?” aran put a hand on his shoulder.

“do it for leo di caprio, atsumu,” suna added. atsumu sniffed and nodded his head eagerly.

“i will, i’ll do it for leo.”

...

it was a normal day at school, if normal meant you were wearing a blanket wrapped around your waist to make you ‘feel as if you were in costume’ and mixing vending machine coffee and vending machine chocolate milk in styrofoam cups with your best friend who also happened to be the guy you were in love with. that was as normal as thing got when you were best friends with the miya twins.

and that only meant that seeing atsumu come in for rehearsals, with a determined spark in his eyes, and recite every line to utter perfection that you knew william shakespeare himself would be proud of, was just pushing the boundaries of ‘normal.’

that only meant you had to be on your A-game too and before you knew it, you and atsumu had put on your best performance yet. your undying competitiveness and atsumu’s devotion to leonardo di caprio had gone a long way. all throughout that, osamu had a ‘cat-who-just-ate-the-canary’ smile on his face as he watched from the props area.

“you look like you’re going to say ‘all according to keikaku’ at any time,” suna observed.

“oh, i am saying it in my head,” osamu said, watching you and atsumu onstage. he had hoped for two outcomes: either you were both comically terrible at the play, or that you were slightly mediocre. but a part in his mind knew you would find a way to surprise him. you always did, after all.

yours and atsumu’s performance got everybody in class even more motivated about the play. osamu ended up in a million meetings with the fellow set designers, even learning how to paint trees to look as life-like as possible. although being busy wasn’t enough to distract him from looking at you, especially when dress rehearsals began and you were wearing the most stunning dress that the costume department worked on. meanwhile, atsumu pretty much rehearsed, ate, and slept with his prop sword.

finally, the big day of the cultural festival came around. despite the fact that you utterly loathed having to play juliet at first, you couldn’t help but feel proud at how far you’ve come.

“hey, maybe i should just go to acting school or something,” you joked, sitting beside osamu and smoothing your dress over your legs which dangled over the side of the stage.

“you’ll run home crying after you hear any sort of criticism,” osamu snorted.

“mean! i deal with criticism really well!” you pouted. osamu raised an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes. “you know i was joking. the fact that i haven’t received any acceptance letters from the universities i applied to is kind of making me crazy.”

“so, is the fact that you’re playing a fourteen year-old girl who has to hide her love from her entire family before later killing herself a good way of escaping?” osamu asked.

“yeah, that and watching atsumu’s surprising transformation,” you snickered, turning around to watch atsumu and suna horsing around onstage. or rather, it was just suna from one end of the stage tossing chocolate chips at atsumu who was attempting to catch them with his mouth.

“i asked suna and aran about what changed but their lips are tightly sealed,” osamu shrugged. “i like to think that he hit his head somewhere.”

“well, he’s going to hit his head some time during the day at the rate he’s going right now,” you said, watching atsumu laugh and choke at the chocolate in his mouth. it was funny at first, until you noticed that atsumu kept on coughing.

“osamu,” you quickly tapped his twin. osamu turned around and immediately rushed over to his brother who was now turning a bright shade of red.

“oh my god, were there peanuts in that chocolate?” you asked. atsumu let out a gasp and nodded his head.

“i’ll go get his meds,” osamu quickly jogged off only to be replaced by a very concerned Mr. President. “someone get him some water!”

“i never thought atsumu-san was allergic to nuts. is it serious?” he asked, handing you his water bottle which you opened and quickly gave to atsumu who was now sitting down on the floor.

“well, it’s mostly rashes and an itchy throat but as long as he takes his medicine, he’ll be fine,” you shook your head.

two allergy tablets, an apology from suna, and a long explanation later, atsumu was lying down in the nurse’s office with the swelling noticeably reduced. “unfortunately, he’d have to sit out the rest of the play so that the reaction completely subsides,” the nurse told you, osamu, and Mr. President. you sighed and regarded atsumu with hands on your hips.

“you thought they were chocolate-covered raisins, didn’t you?”

atsumu didn’t say anything except: “i’m sorry leo di caprio.”

“this is the absolute worst time for this to happen,” Mr. President sighed as he addressed your classmates backstage. “there’s only thirty minutes before showtime and our romeo is out of commission. anyone have any bright ideas?”

“does anyone else here vaguely know atsumu’s lines?” you asked around. “someone who read the script?” instead, you were met with silence. as much as you wanted for some miracle to happen and for the show to go on because you genuinely did want to play juliet, putting up a half-assed play with one of the two main characters gone wasn’t going to look good either.

you sucked in a deep breath, preparing yourself to make the call, but osamu, who had noticed your expression earlier, stepped forward. you looked at him with wide eyes and just caught him glance at you before addressing mr. president.

“i can step in for romeo.”

“osamu...?” you asked.

“i haven’t really read the script but i’ve heard atsumu rehearsing by himself often enough to pick up a few lines,” osamu rubbed the back of his head, already feeling nervous.

“also, twin-sense,” suna piped up. “you know, your psychic connection between twins?”

osamu nodded his head slowly. “yes, that too.”

“alright, alright,” mr. president nodded his head. “well, i guess that’s better than nothing and osamu can fit into atsumu’s costume too. if you can, use these thirty minutes to read as much of the script as possible.”

“got it,” osamu nodded. and with that, everyone resumed preparations and you were pulled into the dressing room to get your hair and make-up done. when you emerged, osamu was sitting on the floor against the far side of the backstage, bent over a copy of the script and muttering in concentration.

“hey,” you greeted, sitting down beside him. he was already dressed in his costume: a white, long-sleeved shirt with golden buttons and some tassels on the shoulders. his hair was also combed back with a few strands falling across his forehead.

“god, i can’t believe atsumu memorized all this shit,” osamu shook his head and looked up at you only to stop short. he had seen you about a million times in your juliet costume but with the make-up and your hair arranged so elegantly, you looked absolutely breath-taking.

“something wrong?”

“i... i’m just panicking about having to play romeo all of a sudden,” he blinked.

“i know. scary, isn’t it?” you nodded. “i... you didn’t have to though. i’m pretty sure everyone was ready to throw in the towel.”

“and waste all my hard work painting sets?” osamu raised an eyebrow at you. “no way.” you tossed your head back and laughed.

“well, if you put it that way...” you nodded and smiled bravely. “the show will be fine. if you forget a line, just improvise. the most important thing is channeling the emotion.”

“i think i can do that,” osamu smiled and reached a hand out to you. “to the best show ever?”

you grinned and shook his hand. “to the best show ever.”

...

the show was a complete disaster. as much as osamu did try to recite atsumu’s lines completely from memory, it was as if everyone was thrown off their game throughout the entire play. cues for special effects were forgotten (someone accidentally turned on a smoke machine during the first scene), props were misplaced (the actor for Tybalt was using a footlong hotdog against osamu’s prop sword), and there were more than a few times when someone missed their lines. at one point, you ended up reciting Team Rocket’s iconic spiel after the line ‘a rose by any other name is just as sweet.’ but, despite everything being a shitshow, it still ended up being overall entertaining. the audience laughed through most of the obvious fails and that caused the actors to loosen up just a bit.

and it was osamu who ended up spearheading the comedic aspect of your ‘romeo and juliet’ play. from his dry, deadpan delivery of the very emotional lines, to his small inserts and side-comments about the play itself. you even had to stop yourself from laughing at times. but if you and atsumu were amazing at playing the scripted ‘romeo and juliet’, you and osamu were complete naturals when it came to improvising.

“i don’t know if this is a success by conventional definitions,” Mr. President addressed everyone backstage as soon as the play was over. “but... we sure did make everyone out there laugh.”

“and i consider that a win!” atsumu cheered beside you. he was looking much better, still with a bit of rashes though and his voice kind of heavy from the medicine. “kind of sad that i didn’t get to play romeo though,” he whispered at you.

“that’s alright. i channeled you in spirit,” osamu patted his twin’s shoulder.

“like hell ya did! i couldn’t believe ya used the dagger to kill yerself at the end,” atsumu argued.

“right?? i had to be all ‘oh romeo, you must have forgotten to use the poison you brought in your pocket!’” you recalled.

“i see dagger, i use dagger,” osamu reasoned. “wait, that’s ‘Macbeth’ isn’t it?”

“in a nutshell,” you shrugged.

“ugh, i’ve had enough of nuts for a day, don’t even mention it,” atsumu groaned, pushing away from the two of you and wandering off to the snack table that your classmates prepared.

“damn, i had more puns up my sleeve,” you sighed, watching him leave.

“you’ll find a time to use them, don’t worry,” osamu reassured you. “in the meantime... do you want to, get out of here first? explore the rest of the cultural festival?” you felt your face flush but nodded nonetheless.

“i’m sure no one will notice the main characters of their cast go missing,” you grinned. “let’s get out of here, romeo.”

when osamu meant ‘let’s check out the cultural festival’, he really meant buying a bunch of snacks from the stalls set up all around the school. but then again, that’s what he did all the time. soon enough, the two of you were sitting on the rooftop with your prized horde.

“thank god i don’t have some weirdass nut allergy like tsumu. that’s definitely evidence that i got the stronger genes,” osamu said, biting into a crepe he just bought. “also the fact that he didn’t check that chocolate-covered nuts packet.”

“i still feel sorry for him. he worked really hard to play romeo well,” you sighed.

“hey, i tried to play my part seriously. well... sometimes.”

“you did nail the whole ‘yearning for my love juliet’ part right,” you grinned, remembering the surprise at seeing the tenderness and longing on osamu’s face as he recited romeo’s lines about being in love with juliet. ‘well, that’s something for me to daydream about for the rest of my life you,’ you thought.

that was until osamu said “well, it’s good practice for when i actually confess to someone.”

confess to someone.

‘does that mean, all this time? he’s liked someone?’ you felt your stomach drop. you’ve never known osamu to be expressive when it came to people he had feelings for. were you just ignoring all the signs? was--

“it’s you, idiot,” osamu sighed.

“wait, what?” you looked at him with wide eyes. osamu sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

“you know, i was thinking of a more suave way to say this but you looked like how you did earlier when you were supposed to be engaged to tybalt,” he chuckled. “so, i put two and two together for the first time. you’re the one i like, y/n.”

it was the moment you’ve been waiting for for so long, and yet the only thing you could come up with was “haha, cool.”

in response, osamu stared at you long and hard before taking another bite out of his crepe. “i think your brain is fried,” he muttered through a mouthful of crepe.”

“hold on, hold on,” you held a finger up, finally coming back to your senses. “you had a crush on me and also the audacity to make me juliet and have your twin brother as romeo?”

“i thought you’d be really cool as juliet but i didn’t want to go through the work of being romeo,” osamu said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “obviously it backfired but--”

“that’s called karma, osamu,” you pointed an accusing finger at him. “if you think i’m going to let you off easy i’m--”

you were cut off by osamu’s lips meeting yours and the taste of whipped cream and strawberry on your tongue. your brain short-circuited, trying to think of a way to describe this situation other than ‘haha, cool’ again. osamu, sensing your brain waves, pulled you even closer with a hand on your cheek.

“are you going to let me off now?” he raised an eyebrow at you after you parted. you smirked.

“i’ll have to think about it.”

“yeah?” osamu mumbled, his smirk matching yours. “what else do i need to do?” you leaned forward before taking a bite out of the crepe in his hands. you chewed while grinning at the surprised look on osamu’s face.

“now we’re even.”

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart@akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan@therainroguefanfiction@atetiffdoesart@stephdaninja@oikaw-ugh@charliefredb@dramaqueenweeb1469@tremblinghearts@applepienation@doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love

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sunlightwoo · 4 years

Text

To Die For

ღ pairing: wonwoo x reader

ღ genre: strangers to acquaintances ; angst to fluff if you squint hard enough, kind of?

ღ plot: people are meant to come into your life at a specific point in time for reasons. somehow you just happen to come into Wonwoo’s life at the right time and place

ღ a/n: hiii everyone who is reading this! welcome to the last oneshot that is part of the Song For You Collection (for now)!! this one is particularly for @gamerwoo, for being an amazing person and for being one of the reasons why i started writing on this hellsite, but love you lots rocket!!! for anyone that wants to listen to the song, the acoustic version of it will be right here. **edit: as i finish writing this, i lowkey wanna make a fic out of this cause i added some inspo of the drama Mystic Pop Up Bar... Lemme know your thoughts!!**

Wonwoo knows that he should be coping with a heartache right now.

Its been hours since he caught his significant other cheating on him in their own bed at the shared apartment, finding their lips on someone else that wasn’t him. He wasn’t phased at the scene cause he thought that they were cheating on him weeks prior to tonight because of all the signs that had been going off inside of his head.

He had only stayed because he thought that maybe he could find a way out of that, just so they could stay a little longer more. However, he couldn’t care less because that love that sparked within them back then died long ago, and he was ready to go back into the lonely shadows he once engulfed himself in long ago.

Along with that, he also had been having trouble in finding inspiration in the works of writing, writers block being the only thing that has bothered him to the point where it felt draining to look for inspiration endlessly at the dawn of each day.

He wanted a break from his daily routine, which was why he managed to find himself at a tacky diner that looked as though it came from the 50s.

He sits at the front counter on one of the stools, sipping on the vanilla milkshake that has watered down hours prior as he thought about the next step that was supposed to be a part of his life. It wasn’t until the sound of a bell being made that brings him back to reality when someone suddenly stands in front of him with a batch of cookies in their hands.

“Care for some cookies to dip into your milk?” You say, giving him a small smile and he gives you a confused, but also weirded look before tilting his head slightly at the thought of you giving cookies at a diner.

“I didn’t order any..”

“They’re on the house, Wonwoo.” You say, putting the plate down in front of him and crossing your arms in front of your chest as he was now getting spooked out as to how you knew his name.

“Your name is literally sketched right onto your notebook here.” You reply, answering his secret thoughts as you tapped softly on the leather covered notebook that was resting on top of his counter as he hums before taking a cookie that was on the plate.

Chocolate chip.

“Made them myself, if I can say so myself. Saw that you needed a pick me up, or some sort of distraction, so I came out of the kitchen to whip up a specialty of mine.” You smiled and leaned against the counter before hopping on top of it, looking at him in curiosity as to why the man was still here at 3 o’clock at night when he seemed to be someone that deserved to sleep with someone special at this hour.

“Do I really look that miserable?” He asks quietly, a small whisper almost inaudibly escaping his lips as he looks at you with a frown on his face, one that you recognized a lot when your diner attracted only the heartbroken people to find comfort so that you can complete your task of healing those that needed it here on earth.

Your goal of 10,000 people so that you can finally rest.

“You just look like you need someone to die for. I’m Y/N, by the way, and I think I can find a way to cure your sadness for tonight. Want to go for a walk?”

#A Song For You #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen oneshot #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #jeon wonwoo #seventeen #tctwriters

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booksonablog · 4 years

Text

Self-Defense - Johnny Lawrence Imagine Part 1

Summary: Johnny finds out you know a little bit of self-defense, but learns you don’t know enough as you should when trouble ensues when he’s not around.

Author’s Note: I’m in the middle of writing part 2 so stay tuned and enjoy this first part! (Also I tried very hard to create my own gifs and only one managed to work for some reason so bare with me)

It was nine-fifteen in the evening, you were counting the minutes till you could clock out. It’s not that you hated your job, but it surely wasn’t the job of your dreams. It was something to pay the bills while you worked on your career. It was a trendy hipster bar and restaurant, so it wasn’t the worst. The other employees weren’t too bad, really the worst part of the job was the sleazy men that drowned themselves in liquor and harassed the customers and workers. Your manager had his fair share of jerks he had to kick out, but the past couple months remained enjoyable.

You handed the drink menus to your last table, two young men on a guys night out. You headed back to the bar when you caught eyes with a handsome blonde walking through the doors. He nodded to the hostess, pointing at your direction with a grin on his face. You blushed, making your way behind the bar. He claimed a seat directly in front of you.

He smirked, “Hi beautiful.”

“Hello handsome.” You leaned on the bar.

“I know you get out at nine-thirty but I couldn’t wait to see you.” He winked.

You blushed, flashing him a flirty grin. From the corner of your eye, you caught the men at your table staring at you. You held up your index finger at Johnny.

“One sec.”

He nodded, not-so casually checking you out as you made your way to the table. He returned his attention to the bar, signaling the bartender.

“Sorry about that, what can I get ya?”

“I’m not sure-” One of the men hesitated, the drink menu still in his hand.

“Well, if you’re looking for something strong, I recommend the ‘Shift Drink.’ It’s mixed with a little rye whiskey and ginger syrup, it’s a classic cocktail. But if you’re looking for something sweeter, I’d recommend ‘The Blood and Sand.’ It’s mixed with both orange juice and sweet vermouth. Or the ‘Peach Blood and Sand,’ replacing the orange juice with peach flavoring. Do you like peach?”

“Well -” the man started, completely ignoring your spiel.

“I do.” His friend added, his hand grazing your butt in admiration. You jumped at the touch, though you weren’t the only one. Johnny had turned right at the moment the man put his hand on you, causing him to jump out of his seat, making a beeline towards the table. Meanwhile, you had instinctively grabbed the man by his wrist, pulling it up and towards his back, slamming his head on the table. The commotion shook the restaurant, everyone now staring. Johnny had stopped in his tracks at the scene.

You bent down to the man’s ear. “If you ever lay a hand on me again I’ll break your fucking arm.” You whispered with gritted teeth. Your manager tapped your shoulder, you whipped your head, still in fight mode. He gave you the signal to take off a few minutes early. You released the man’s arm, turning back towards the bar. Johnny gently reached for your arm as you passed him. You looked up, completely oblivious to how close he was to the scene.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “Just gonna get my jacket.” He nodded back, walking towards the bar as you made your way to the backroom.

He reached for his wallet, paying for his drink and tipping the bartender while he waited. You were slipping your arms in your jacket as you made your way over to Johnny. He shoved his wallet in his back pocket, you slipped your arm between his. He peered down at you with a small smile before the two of you exited the restaurant.

***

Throughout the car ride and on the way to your door, the two of you had joked about the situation at the restaurant.

“Who would’ve thought that the sweetest angel in the world could break a man’s arm.” The two of you laughed, arriving at the front of your door. You turned to face him.

“But seriously babe, where did that come from?” He grinned with intrigue.

You shrugged. “YouTube I guess. Ever since I got this job, I thought it would be crucial to learn self-defense, even if it’s just a move or two.”

Well,” He started with a teasing smirk plastered on his face, “I wouldn’t wanna fight you, you’re pretty feisty.”

You blushed with a laugh, pushing him playfully before pulling him into a kiss.

***

- Several Weeks Later -

“Have a good night!” You hollered to the clerk, the door closing behind you with a ring. You had made a quick run to the mini-mart for some milk, it was only a few blocks away from your apartment so you chose to walk rather than waste gas. It was late, pushing nine o’clock. You quickly realized it may not have been the best idea to walk alone at night, especially in such a dimly lit area. You pulled your phone out of your purse to call Johnny, his voice alone made you feel at ease.

Back at the dojo, Johnny was wrapping up with his students.

“Fight!”

Before Mitch could take a second step, Hawk had kicked him halfway off the mat. In the backroom, Johnny's phone vibrated on his desk, the screen illuminating your name.

You sighed, pulling the phone away from your face. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you. You listened closely, your eyes wide. The sound matched yours, same pace, same route, with the exception of the weight the sound carried. You redialed Johnny’s number.

“Alright now I don’t wanna hear any bitchin’ or moanin’ about feeling sore in the morning. You’re here to work hard and be badass.” His phone continued to be ignored as he wrapped up his session.

You held the phone to your face, hoping it would appear as if someone was on the other line. You dared to turn your head only to find no one behind you. You slowly turned your head, eyes wandering over the environment behind you. You turned - smack - you collided with the chest of a tall man towering over you. You quickly backstepped. Two heavy hands wrapped around your arms from behind you. You jumped with a shriek, the screen of your phone cracked as it hit the ground, the carton of milk exploded over the concrete. The man in front of you grinned before taking his steps towards you.

Miguel was the last to leave the dojo, like most nights. Johnny made his way to the backroom, closing the door behind him as he changed out of his clothes. He placed his belongings in his bag, grabbing his phone. The device illuminated, exposing two missed calls from you. He dialed your number, pressing his shoulder to his ear as he gathered his bag and locked the back room. He walked across the dojo, your voicemail playing in his ear. Beep

“Hey babe, sorry I missed your call, was wrapping up with the kids. I’m on my way out, I’ll swing by your place -” He shut the lights to the dojo off, locking the door behind him. “I’ll see you soon.” He hung up, opening the door to his Challenger.

***

Johnny had knocked on your door for the second time.

“Babe?” Silence. He sighed, shifting his focus to the outside hallway. He dialed your number again.

Nothing. He pulled his phone down and stared at it. It was past ten, he knew you didn’t work late.

He walked down the steps, starting to feel the heat rise in his chest as he grew to wonder where you were. He figured you’d probably call him by the time he reached his place.

***

He stared at his phone on the kitchen counter. He took another swig of beer and nearly choked at the rapid knocking on his door. He sped to the door and opened it to see one of the most heartbreaking sights he’s encountered. There you were, trembling at his door. Tears had stained your scratched cheeks, a dark bruise covered your right cheekbone, blood peaked behind your hair from the corner of your head. Your lip, cut, quivered in humiliation and terror. Johnny pulled you in his apartment, as if the action would protect you from further pain.

He turned to you, his throat drying up. He swallowed, “Who did this to you?” He asked in a low but stern voice.

“Johnny-” You choked.

“Babe - please, just tell me who and where the hell they are right now.” He demanded, anger rising. He didn’t bother to ask if you were okay as you clearly weren’t, he thought the quicker he learns about what happened, the faster he’ll get to catching these guys.

“I-I don’t know, I was walking -”

“Where??”

“The Mini-Mart-”

“You were walking to the Mini-Mart?!”

“I needed milk.” You said sheepishly, your voice started to crack.

“Why didn’t you just tell me!?”

“I didn’t want to bother you - you were working!” You shouted back, tears starting to form.

“And look what happened!!”

“Johnny please-” You started to cry, your hand covering your mouth.

His heart shattered. Realizing he was making everything worse he pulled you into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed your back. Having you cry into his chest made his eyes start to water.

***

Once the tears had settled, Johnny had led you to his bathroom where he helped clean you up. He had you lean on the counter as he dabbed the blood off your face with a washcloth. You sniffled, hiccups still lingering. You watched as he focused on rinsing the cloth. He bent down to you again, moving his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him so he could plant a kiss to your forehead. He looked you in the eyes as if to ask how you were doing. You nodded, unable to muster a sympathetic smile. He showed his instead and kissed you gently on the lips. He left to his room, returning with his Zebra shirt, your favorite. You accepted the offer and sat up as he removed himself from the bathroom.

You were folding your clothes, crossing over to his bedroom when you caught him by the front door, putting on his black leather jacket.

“Where are you going?” Concern in your voice.

He walked over to you, sympathy written over his face. He gently wrapped his calloused hand over your soft ones.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” The two of you knew what he was planning to do after you were calm enough to describe the men and everything that happened.

“Johnny-” You shook your head with worry.

“Babe-”

“No!” You squeezed his hand, tugging them towards you.

His face fell, watching your emotions untangle once more.

“Please Johnny-” You shook your head, voice breaking as tears started to fall. “Don’t leave me.” You hiccuped.

To hear the sincerity and fear in your voice was all it took to convince him to stay.

He looked down, partially ashamed. He nodded, looking back at you. He stepped forward and gently swiped his thumb over your cheek.

“I’m not gonna leave you.”

***

You were sound asleep in Johnny’s bed resting your head on his chest. He, on the other hand, was wide awake. He caressed your hair and continued to stare at the ceiling. He was trying not to grow too angry as he thought about what you had told him. The thought of someone violently harassing you and to learn it was two men, boiled his blood. He wanted so badly to slip out of the apartment, find the men responsible and kick their ass. But he couldn’t betray your trust, he told you he would stay, so he will.

Hope you enjoyed this part, stay tuned for part 2! 💕

#johnny lawrence imagine #cobra kai imagine #william zabka imagine #cobra kai fanfic #Johnny Lawrence fanfic #billy zabka #billy zabka imagine #fanfiction #imagine #fan fiction blog #imagine blog #cobra kai headcanon #Johnny Lawrence headcanon #headcanon

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

Text

Stubborn

Warning: TW: Dark themes, Yandere, kidnapping, slight abuse (if you squint) Word count: 2,5k Summary: Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side, so why isn’t he happy when he finds just that in his new girlfriend? It doesn’t take long until he realizes that stubborn is never what he wanted. No. It’s obidient. And as destiny will have it, you, his best childhood friend, tend to be just that Pairing: Yandere!Bakugo x Batfam

A/N: So I have no reason to write this, but I had this small scene in my head and BAM! this existed. And why not share it, amiright? I’ll also post a request later today or tomorrow, but I just wanted to get this out there. Hope you enjoy

Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side. Someone who stood up for themselves and wouldn’t just take his shit as some other extras would. In his mind, it was a logical assumption. He was well aware that he was a (quite literal) hot-head. He tended to let his aggression get the best of him and, even though that calmed down the older he got, it was still an established fact in his life as a pro-hero. That was why he agreed to go out with her. She was, admittedly, attractive. She wouldn’t really be called pretty, but definitely hot. A slender body with curves in all the right places and long, flawless pink hair that ended just over her waist, lashes that when battered could get her just about everywhere and everything. It also very much helped that she was well aware of her good looks. She never wore anything borderline inappropriate or skimpy, but she took care of the fact that her clothes were bringing out her features and would give her other advantages, like the hells she wore that made her already rather tall form stand even taller at about 5’6 feet. Even though that still wasn’t exceptionally high, she still liked to tower over everyone she could tower over. She and Bakugo were both masters of intimidating, even if they used very different methods. Trat wasn’t the only thing that made them alike, she also had quite the temper, something that had to be reckoned with when meeting with her, but she wasn’t as much aggressive as she was stubborn and headstrong. She was just what Bakugo needed. So, when he had tried to save her from getting robbed while he was on patrol and she just scoffed and kicked the robber so hard in a place that the sun won’t shine at, calmly taking her purse back and acting as if nothing happened, he was somewhat impressed. And when she touched his arm and invited him inside he didn’t say no. After that she was a part of his life, quickly filling the empty spot of his girlfriend. And a month or two everything was nice, he enjoyed the romantic and sexual attention that she gave him and he found himself entranced by the way she would talk back to him when she didn’t like something. He even liked her enough to introduce her to the most important people that he had in his life. His best friends. After graduating and finally fulfilling his dream of being a pro-hero he had managed to keep in more-or-less close contact with his old classmates, but he and his squad were almost as close as ever, if not more. They met up about twice a month in the complete group and individual pairs whenever they felt like it, but it was safe to say that the group of friends had stayed the same way they always have been, just with the difference that they were now of legal age to drink. So - of course - the next time they met up, this time with the additional plus one on Bakugo’s side, they met at a bar that was conveniently placed between all of their homes. Because he was somewhat nervous, even though he wouldn’t admit it if you held a gun to his head, Bakugo decided to come ten minutes earlier than the time they had agreed to meet up and ordered drinks for him and his girlfriend. After that, the others slowly joined, first was Sero, then Kirishima, Ashido and Kaminari, but one person stayed missing from the group. Bakugo wanted to ask where you were staying and why you took so long, but when all the attention turned on him and his new relationship the question was lost in the void of his mind. Especially considering that only ten minutes after, the original excitement about meeting Bakugos girlfriend gone for the group, even though they were still milking her with questions, you came in with a small smile on your face like you weren’t even realizing you were late and joined them. Your hot-headed best friend asked you what had taken you so long after you had introduced yourself to the new person in the group and congratulated them on getting together, but you had just shrugged it off as no big deal. Bakugo forgot about it.

Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side, but Bakugo soon realized that that assumption was wrong. All the things he thought would be great about someone as headstrong as he was turned out to be annoyances. The things that he liked about her in the first months soon turned into things he hated with a burning passion. Just once he wanted her to shut up and actually listen to him. It started with small things. Like when he told her that he didn’t want to go out after a particularly rough day at work and she just whined and complained until he had enough and went along, or that one time when the two of them had a normal conversation about a type of food and she completely refused to accept a fact that he told her (and even, later on, found references for) - it wasn’t even like it was something that was against her or her believes, just something she had assumed wrong and still refused to back down about. Just so that she could come out of the fight as the winning party. And it just continued and got more and more, every little thing became a full-blown fight and she seemingly made it her personal mission to disobey and work against him as much as she could. He quickly figured out that you can’t fight fire with fire, that having a stubborn person like himself constantly clash with someone so similar was bound to fail and he hadn’t thought his original belief through. He even talked about it with you and Kirishima, debatably the closest of friends he had, and while you were as shy and quiet as you had been ever since going to school with him and Midoriya, both you and Kirishima agreed that it would be the best for everyone involved if you’d just break things off with her. With that the decision was basically set in stone, the only thing left was actually acting on the words so Bakugo spent the whole way home thinking about how he’d say it, what he’d do. But his mind wasn’t completely on track. Because besides the possible breaking-offs that he went through he also found himself thinking about who would fit better to him and while walking home surrounded by the lights of the city it was like he had an Enlightenment. He never needed someone stubborn, no, he needed someone obedient. Someone who wouldn’t fight him on his every word and would let him protect and care for them. That thought was the beginning of the end. When he finally comes home he’s lucky that he hadn’t yet asked her or had been asked by her if they could move together, but that happiness was quickly ruined by the load of missed calls and messages that she had left him. Exhausted and longing for someone he wasn’t even sure existed he went to bed and decided he’d deal with his little problem the day after. When he left work the next day during his break to catch some air and meet up with you, who worked not too far away in you own little pro-hero themed bakery, the thoughts of the before standing evening were still heavy in his mind, especially his newfound clearance on just what qualities his partner actually had to have. The smell of baked bread and sweets, the smell that somehow had surrounded you ever since you had been a child who played with him and Midoryia on the playground, greeted him in a wave of warm air when she opened the door and the familiar ring of the small bell hanging over it filled his ears. A sense of content filled him that he only had with you. The same content was the reason that you were still friends in the first place. Back when it was still him, Izuku and you, he always felt a bit jealous about how much more you were like Izuku, even though you weren’t quite as curious or cheery as he was, you were still a happy, calm kid with a tendency to stay on the more quiet side. So naturally, people would assume that after Bakugo developed his quirk - and Izuku didn’t, starting a long cycle of bullying and maybe even abuse from the blond hot-head - you would’ve stayed with the little green bean, and so did Bakugo. But he didn’t want that. He liked the feeling he had when he hung out with you and he was different with you, less angry and more tolerable. So he became almost possessive and incredibly jealous when it concerned you. He made sure that you stayed his friend, but - to come to his defence a little bit - he still “let” you be friends with Izuku, just as long as he still got the majority of your attention and love. As you grew up he lost most of that behaviour and exchanged it for a normal level of friendly protectiveness, enough that he made sure that you were okay and texted you almost every day while he was at school, but not as much that you couldn’t have other friends or your own life. Bakugo was especially happy when he introduced you to his other friends the first time and, even though your and their personalities practically crashed against each other, you bonded incredibly fast and became a member of his little squad. Something about these memories made his mind a little bit fuzzy, but everything came to a sudden halt when he heard an all too familiar - at this point almost dreaded - laugh. He felt like he had whiplash at the speed at which his head snapped to the side and he caught sight of his hopefully soon ex-girlfriend standing at the counter in front of a very-clearly confused looking you. His wish to have his peace from her at least until the evening burst into a thousand little bubbles and he found himself confronted by the inevitable. Bakugo planned to take her out of the bakery as to not cause a scene and explain to her that it was over, but everything changed when he heard a comment she made directed towards you before she even knew he was there. It was said in a nice voice, but with a venomous undertone, a comment about how weird it was that a Pro-Hero like Bakugo, someone so great and influential, was spending any time with a push-over like you. Something inside him snapped and he had to admit that his now definitely ex-girlfriends shoulder most likely didn’t stay unharmed at how hard he tugged at it to turn her around, not to mention the added pops of explosions that he couldn’t - and just maybe didn’t want to - hold back. He ended things right there and then, leaving her running out of the bakery crying and you looking at him shocked. Bakugo almost expected you to have a go at him about how horrible he behaved and about how mean he was, but you said nothing. Well, not nothing, no, you did say something. You thanked him - in a rather timid voice - for defending you. It was at this moment Bakugo realized what had always been before him.

Bakugo had always thought he needed someone stubborn by his side, but he found himself proven wrong when he suddenly saw that the person he needed was you. His quiet, shy, obedient best friend. No, you were always more than that and he had just never realized it. You were his soulmate. Yes, why else did you fit together to perfection in his mind? Not to mention that you definitely needed him. Your quirk wasn’t anything that could be used in a fight - not that he wanted you anywhere near a fight anyways - and you tended to let people walk and talk over you (which admittedly is somewhat his fault too, since he tended to walk and talk over you quite a lot in your life) so you needed someone to protect and care for you, right? Someone like him. When he looked at you from then on he felt something he had never, ever, felt before. Desperation, almost a need, to have you with him, no, even more: To have you. At first, he realized that what he was thinking wasn’t completely right, that all these thoughts about scooping you up and bringing you away, somewhere no-one else could get to, weren’t normal. But even as he fell back into a similar behaviour pattern of possessiveness, jealousness and obsessiveness that he had already shown in his childhood you never complained, never drew back from him. So clearly, you must love him too right? You must want him to be with you, to take you away. After that it’s only a question of time until kidnapping you - or saving you as he sees it - becomes a completely rational thing for Bakugo to do. He’ll buy a house not too far away from the city so that he could still be at work on time, but in a neighbourhood where you weren’t in any danger and he made it completely escape-proof. He told himself that it was to keep any intruders out, but really even he knew that it was to keep you in. He couldn’t even bear the thought of not seeing you for a day at this point. He’ll take you when you least expect it and he’ll make sure that no-one ever finds out that he was the one who took you. He’ll even lead the investigations and join the search parties that he and his friends would surely organise, but nothing would ever come from it. At least not until you finally realized that he hadn’t lost his mind, that you were meant for him, and accepted your spot at his side. Then he’d miraculously find a long-forgotten hint that would lead him right to were you were being kept and he’d accept you into his house after your apartment and bakery have long been sold to someone else and it wouldn’t be too unbelievable that you just happened to fall in love with him then, right? Of course, he knew it would take a while until that could happen, he knew that it must be hard for you to come to terms with just how much the two of you loved each other and - even though he’d rather have you already back to your calm, happy, obedient self - he was willing to live through your little tantrums and moods until you finally settled down with him. It was bound to happen sooner or later…

Bakugo had never needed someone stubborn by his side, he now knows, he had needed you.

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nanasarea · 4 years

Text

Park Jisung as your idol bf

Genre: fluff

Pairing: jisung x idol!reader

Requested

Word count:1757 (dear lord, the longest in the idol bf series damn...)

a/n: this is more of a jisung as your bf in general, not so much the idol aspect sorry. Also yes, i ended up writing about jisung having a baby, sue me, I’m in jisung hours now! also do i even need to say it’s not proofread at this point?

Haechan / Yuta / Mark / Jeno / Jaemin / Chenle / Renjun / Jaehyun

you were in the same dance class when you were younger

so you were friends way before either of your debuts

like when you knew each other when he was an smrookie

and of course, both of you being talented dancers

you were both training under companies at a rather young age

and it isn’t easy being a trainee regardless of your age

but because you were both still in school

and so young

you knew you should stick together

let’s say you had chemistry homework

but you also had vocal lessons

i’m not saying he would help you

because he wouldn’t

but he would be there to motivate you

and study his own school work

so you weren’t alone

it’s safe to say you were each other’s motivation when it came to school

he would also insist on his mom picking you up from school and driving you to the company when your mom couldn’t

same would go reversed

not that either of your moms minded

they found it adorable

and they shipped you both anyway so

that means him and his family coming over for dinner

and you and yours going to theirs for dinner

and your moms would document all of your childhood memories

they would bond over it

since you didn’t have time to make any friends in school,

you both valued your friendship a lot

he ended up debuting before you

and you teased him a lot

until he “taught” you how to ride a hoverboard

and you ended up falling in the first 4 seconds

then he would tease you

and you’d now understand how hard his dances really were

you met most of his members when they were smrookies

but you didn’t know renjun and chenle that well

so whenever you could,

you would hang out with each other

and become very close

which is why they were all so supportive when you ran into their dorms and yelled that you were debuting

you end up having a little celebration

when you actually did debut,

they were so hyped

especially jisung

he streamed your mv so many times

he knew every detail of every scene in the mv

which was adorable

the fans knew you were childhood friends so they absolutely loved your interactions

which meant your company/companies being like

WE COULD MAKE MONEY FROM THAT

so they make sure you have a collab stage

like really early in your debut

and it was kinda awkward

but because you knew each other beforehand

you felt completely fine

at this point, your moms were betting on when you’d start dating

to which you would both just blush and tell them to stop

you end up going on so many variety shows together

mainly dance specials

and everyone finds you too adorable

like everyone ships it

but they’re kinda lowkey about it because they don’t want to make you uncomfortable

not the case of his members tho

or yours

you can’t tell me jaemin’s hiatus wasn’t just him laying in bed, resting and planning your wedding

you can’t

taeyong ends up asking him why he hasn’t asked you out yet

he just blushes

it wasn’t until you were both a bit older

and you were at an award ceremony

where everyone was complimenting you

like your dress, makeup, hair, etc

that he realized he liked you

seeing you like that and realizing he needs to stop looking at you as his little childhood friend

and start looking at you as an adult

or somewhat of an adult

he can never look at you as an adult

because he would always have the image of you

with 6 empty chocolate milks around you

and a gummy worm hanging from your mouth

as you tried your best to color the coloring book correctly

but hey, you were always going to have the imagine of him

hanging from monkey bars

after he finished his 5th scoop of ice cream

and laughing because he overheard someone say a fart joke

ANYWAY

he starts seeing you as an adult

kinda

and he gets slightly jealous when everyone compliments you

so after that, he goes to taeyong and jaehyun

and asks for dating advice

jaehyun just yells

“wooooo! you should know my usual boba order by now, right, lee?”

These fuckers bet on how long it would take for jisung to realize his feelings

and jaehyun would regrets only asking for a free boba when he won

but he’s way too happy about winning to care

it ends with half of 127 and half of dreamies giving advice,

the other halves teasing

and wayv cooing on the phone as they were in china at the time

it takes him like 5 months till he confesses

he’s a nervous baby let him be

and when he does get the courage,

he takes you to an amusement park

you don’t go on any of the rides

because he’s scared

but you do play the games and eat food

you even watch the fireworks

which is when he finally holds your hand for the first time

you did a lot of skinship before

like when you were friends

but it wasn’t like this

it was cute

he was so nervous

your palms were both sweaty from nervousness

but neither of you cared

you were just happy to enjoy the moment

that got cheesy

he even walked you to your dorm

like to right in front of your door

which is when he hesitantly gave you a kiss on the cheek

but you wanted a real kiss so you gave him a proper kiss

and he ended up almost tripping on his way to the elevator

where he smiled to himself

and tried to calm himself down

so the members wouldn’t see him like this

but they did

they teased him

and just yelled with him

“our baby had his first kiss!” -jaemin

“life is going way too fast! weren’t you like 3 years old yesterday?!”- jeno

“how come he’s 2 years younger and already getting more action than me?!” -renjun

the others find out

and tease him

mostly they just congratulate him tho

“wooo! our baby is becoming a man!” -taeyong

“doyoung, hold me, i’m emotional!” -johnny

“when’s the wedding?” -taeil

“wedding? i always cry at weddings...” -jungwoo

“no weddings! yet!” -kun

“yeah! he’s not getting married before me!” -jaehyun

they might have gone a bit overboard

but can you blame them

it’s their baby we’re talking abt

they still see him as the little toddler from when he was on mickey mouse club

also you end up not telling your parents right away

and they keep match making

so you end up being like

“Mom, we’re already dating, you can stop”

cue both of your moms get excited

like they’re already talking about being the best grandmas

and having the cutest grandchildren

even tho you’ve only been together for 2 months

something tells me he’d be the type to want to have matching everything

phone cases

(probably anna and kristoff ones)

then profile pictures

jewelry

clothing

anything and everything

he’d find it so cute

speaking of matching profile pics

the fans would realize what was going on

when you would match your pfps

so your company/companies were like

yes, they’re dating, no one is surprised...anyway 127 comeback

your dating announcement is like super chill

mainly because everyone was waiting for it

also i feel like he’d always be playing with your hair

and fixing it

like all the time

a single hair out of place?

we can’t have that!

his hands are in your hair already

would text you for advice while filming chenji’s this and that

and would always make something for you too

“chenle’s turned out more aesthetic but mine is made with love, so mine is better my default.”

also it wouldn’t matter if you’re older than him, the same age, younger than him

doesn’t matter

would want to hear you call him oppa

but immediately get shy after

also he’s an aquarius

so if you end up getting really random texts during the day

like during your schedules

don’t be surprised

like he’s already maknae on top

so he will rebel to like some of the things you say

“jisung! we need to get back to filming in 3 minutes!”

“but weeee!” -jisung going down the slide for the 5th time

cries when you joke about leaving him there

speaking of crying,

we all know he’s emotional

and cries easily

so he just runs to you whenever he wants to cry

and just placed his head on your shoulder

to hide his facial expression

but it’s okay

you’ve already seen everything from the random snaps you get every day

he might not know how to comfort you at first

but he will learn

and he’s pretty mature for his age

so he would take comforting you very seriously

he’s a really good listener

so he would love to just hear you vent to him

it would kinda boost his ego a bit too

like he’s the one who you’re venting to

yknow what i mean?

but also he protects you very well

you get scared of a spider

he goes all manly mode

and gets rid of it for you

doesn’t like to admit it,

but he thinks about you a lot

and your future

like once you two grow out of your idol lives

and into a more adult life

where you get married

and have kids

kids who tease their uncles (aka nct members)

because THE maknae on top was their teacher after all

speaking of weddings

his older brother got married

and obviously you were his date

and everyone kept looking at you two

asking when it was your turn

your mom said “hopefully soon”

“mom, we don’t have time, we have busy schedules”

“but one day...”

time jump to when the news breaks about your engagement

and everyone is crying

they watched you both grow up and now you’re getting married??

what???

the announcement was everywhere

also you don’t announce anything about a child

one day, you just both post a picture of your daughter

with a caption like

“she’s so cute, i knew my genes were good.”

or something like that

and everyone goes wild

nation’s babies having a baby?

legend says chenle’s screaming caused 2 earthquakes that day

to sum it up: nation’s babies turned nation’s it couple because jisung is the best boyfriend you could ever have asked for

.....i might have gone way more invested than i thought i was going to. Do i regret it tho? hell no. Am i emotional now because I pictured adult Jisung with a baby? hell yes.

tag list: @soleilchannie

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aka-indulgence · 3 years

Text

Hey, this hasn’t happened in a long time. Stress headache for writing. Guess its time to write a small fluff once again,

Also with my favorite skeletons because I want multiple skeletons shhhhh it’s just pure self-indulgence without any rhyme or reason to why anything happens...

Ice cream. Cookies. Milk. Chips. Chocolate bars.

All things that you shove into your basket as you walk around the convenient store with a scowl on your face, biting your lip so you don’t scream and cause everyone around you to think you’re crazy. You’re just getting everything you think you want, to treat yourself after feeling so... so... much!

You feel your heart speed up just thinking about it and you squeeze the handles of the basket hard enough that it starts to bend.

Ugh, I just wanna go HOME, you cry in your head as you wait in line.

You’re just stopping yourself from tapping your foot restlessly when your eyes spot a surprise near the registers.

Candy cigarettes?

...

Oh what the hell.

You throw them into the basket too. You’ve never tried it, but it looks like something fun to show at home and surprise the guys.

You put up a pleasant face for the cashier (no need to make a retailer’s job even more miserable) and happily decline the plastic bag. One good thing that happened today: you remembered your reusable bag!

It’s certainly something? To cool your temper.

You walk out and you’re back to walking fast to get home as fast as possible, almost checking shoulders with people when you think the ones in front of you are walking too slow for your current mood. You see your home in the distance, thank god, and make a little sprint towards it, half-hoping a little bit of TLC once you’re there.

You peek in the window as you go to the door, and though you don’t see anyone, you shrug and attempt to bowl over the door, only to curse up a storm when you find that it’s locked, of course. After more hissing and quiet yelling at the handle that dare get in the way your angry relaxation time at home, you shuffle your keys out, haphazardly unlock the door and slip inside- slamming the door just a little harder than you should’ve and march towards the sofa.

(After throwing your jacket, your shoes and socks, and your whole bag on the floor next to the door.)

“(y/n)...?” You hear Snow’s voice from the kitchen as you throw yourself into the cushions, bouncing a bit while the contents of your bags jumped with you.

“Hey Snow,” You say while you make a “pbbbff...” noise with your lips, turning on the TV to look for... you don’t know what, just something to take your mind off things.

Just his voice cools your chest.

You take out the bag of chips and rip it clumsily, with some of the chips tumbling out of it and onto the floor. You make another exasperated noise but make no move to clean up the mess, instead choosing to shove a mouthful of chips into your mouth.

(To be honest, you’re not even properly eating the chips. Just... biting it harder than you needed to, making more of an angry mess on your crinkled shirt.)

Maybe you’re doing it to get attention, you don’t know. You just feel so “aaeghegshrg”.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to make even more of a fool out of yourself, and you see a shadow fall over you from behind.

You sigh when your frustrations simmer down at just the idea of him being there for you... you really weren’t the kind to hold onto anger for too long.

“is... something the matter...?” Snow’s gentle voice comes from behind you, soothing you even more.

You make another sigh, but you look up to him with tired eyes. “Yeah. But it’s hard to say... I’m just not in a good mood... sorry.” You apologize bashfully, feeling silly when you see the mess you’ve made. You hear Snow chuckle, his deep voice shaking your core, making you want to drown in it. The big skeleton rounds the sofa and sits beside you (where the bag isn’t), and his weight pulls you a bit towards him.

“don’t be sorry.” He smiles at you, his sockets crinkled. “is there... anything i can do...?”

Feeling his warmth right there, you start leaning into his chest. “You’re already doing plenty. Just having you here makes me sleepy.” You titter. “Uh. Not in the bad way, I just... I feel relaxed already. I think I’m just tired, I don’t wanna feel... I dunno, spiky?”

“isn’t that red’s thing?”

The new voice surprises you enough to blink your eyes open (you really were starting to doze off on Snow’s chest) and sit up. You look to the darkened hallway (as the sun was setting and the lights haven’t been turned on yet), and see a pair of white lights, until you see the blue-clad skeleton that emerges out of the shadows. It’d be a good horror movie scene if he didn’t look so.... like Sans. Relaxed grin, lazy sockets, slouching a bit, pink slippers shuffling against the floor.

“hey...” Sans starts, his eyelights darting to the chips on the floor. “my little shoulder-chip. what’s wrong?”

“she said she feels... spiky,” Snow repeats as you nibble on a big chip, letting his knuckles ghost your cheek. You don’t say a thing, so he keeps on going.

“mind if i make some space?” Sans points to the bag and you make a little nod, and Sans moves it to the coffee table and sits beside you.

“I dunno... i’ve just been feeling like... this,” You say emphatically, pointing to the chip in your hand. “I feel... like a potato. Just... I dunno... stuck? I don’t know, I just feel,” you make vague, aggressive hand gestures in the air, and slump back down. “Like that,”

Sans takes a breath to say something, but you’re all suddenly aware of the sound of a... clang?? Somewhere outside the house, a door being thrown open.... the heavy steps of feet as someone’s running towards you-

“ilikepotatoes.” Red’s voice suddenly breaks into the room, as all three of you turn your heads around to where he is in the hallway, panting and sweating a bit, his grin a bit too wide with his eyelights dilated in his sockets. He’s sweating.

“Red... how,” You breathe, “Did you even hear that?? Also why did you run here?”

“... dramatic effect?” Red shrugs as he saunters easily to the sofa. “anyways, what i’m saying is,” He says as he folds his arm on the back of the sofa behind you, “i like potatoes. in fact i jus’ love to eat ‘em.”

He bounces his brows at you. “what i’m sayin’ is, if yer a potato, i’d love to-”

“oh my god shut up red,” Sans covers his face with both of his hands, apparently blue in the face from embarassment.

“ey i’m tryna make the girl blush what’re ya-?”

“that’s so stupid i’m getting second hand embarrassment,”

“oh fuck you.”

The exchange gets a giggle out of you, and all three skeletons get a spark in their eyelights.

“Ok, so I’ve been feeling pretty... ehhh today, but this is turning things around,” You smile, looking at the dumbasses while you lean on Snow.

“that’s good to know,”

“i aim t’ please, sweetheart.”

Snow sits up a bit more, bringing you with him, and points to the plastic bag on the table. “so... what’s all that?”

“Oh,” you blush a little, feeling a bit embarrassed for all the things you’ve bought. “It was... an impulse thing. i wasn’t feeling so great, so I wanted to buy everything I wanted to eat. There’s ice cream, candy, chips, just... a bunch of snacks. Oh, I also found candy cigarettes in the store,”

“what,” Red immediately sounds behind you, his smug expression now just a baffled huh???

“the fuck’s candy cigarettes? d’ya... smoke candy ‘r some shit?” Red asks incredulously, prompting a hearty laugh from you. “aw c’mon doll i gotta know!”

“Well,” you start to explain-

“humans’re weird.” Sans says plainly, fishing out said snack from the bag.

He gives it a shake, and you see Red’s eyelights dilate at the sound.

“I mean, don’t pretend like monsters aren’t,” you say as you take the box out of Sans’ hands, “this aren’t like actual cigarettes, Red. They’re just candies that look like cigarettes, so when you put them in your mouth to eat it it looks like you’ve got a cigarette in your mouth. They also have powders inside of them you can inhale and exhale so it looks like smoke... I read kids used to love them exactly for that reason? i don’t know what they taste like,”

You took one more look at the packing and tilt your head. “Oh... it’s chocolate cigarettes, so this one’s just... milk chocolate in the shape of a cigarette,”

“c’mon open ‘em, i’ve never seen ya with a cig darlin’,” Red chuckles, a playful expression on his skull.

You take out the old-timey box and open it. Inside as about 12 “cigarettes” all wrapped in paper. The chocolate sticking out of the ends does make it look like a cigarette. You pull it out and look at the three skeletons, expectations on their faces...

And you stick it into your mouth, moving away from Snow to sit back on the couch and put on your most stereotypical “criminal look” as you put your arms on the back of the couch and fold your leg over the other.

...

“Ey...” you say with a hint of confusion, taking out the chocolate to blow nothing into the air.

“HAH-” Red barks out behind you, slapping his teeth with his bony hand with a clack, doubling over behind the sofa while his shoulders bounced erratically, wheezing as he tries to hold in his laugh.

His absolute giddiness at seeing you with a “cigarette” in your mouth only makes the rest of you giggle and chortle, unrestrained, and the cigarette almost pokes into your throat when you accidentally breathed the whole stick into your mouth.

“Pweh-” You spit out the cigarette (it still had the paper on!) and laugh when you see Red, still unable to pull himself together as he looks like he’s actually struggling to breathe. “It wasn’t that funny!” You tell him, but your own chest is shaking when you see how Red looks like he’s dying.

“i... ha, i don’t fuck’n know!” Red unfolds himself and puts a hand on his chest as he tries to control himself. “i didn’t expect ya t’ say ‘ey...’ heheh... hehahah!”

You unwrap the chocolate from its papery confines and pop it in your mouth, biting it in two so you could chew on it. You take deep breaths before you swallow to make sure you don’t choke on it.

“gimme one of those,” Red reaches over you and takes a cigarette, propping it in between his teeth. He then proceeds to take a few steps back, leaning against the wall. He closes his sockets as he takes a “hit” and makes... the weirdest shape with his mouth (like he was trying to close his ‘lips’ while he was trying to withhold a smile) and makes a pout to exaggerate him “blowing smoke out”. He then keeps that weird mouth shape as he lids his sockets (one was lower than the other what the fuck,) and you watch the edges of his grin bend upwards.

“eyyyYYyyYy.” Red says, mimicking you.

You practically end up crying from how stupid everything is (why are you even laughing? It’s not supposed to be funny!) and the four of you end up on the couch poking fun at each other while eating all the snacks you’ve bought, until eventually Snow stands up to make a real meal for the lot of you.

You forget all about your stresses for the rest of the night, and even fall asleep with a smile on your face.

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witchy-lili · 4 years

Text

Sander Sides Coffeeshop!AU

I imagined Logan with an apron, it made me happy, so I wrote this eldritch monstrosity. Enjoy~ ---------------------

It was an early fall morning at the Cafe, the rain calmly pouring on the tainted windows. A calm atmosphere enveloped the place, only every so slightly disturbed by the jazz music coming through the antic jukebox. This thing was already in the facility when, the owner, a middle aged man bought it. He was calm, seemingly cold at first, always steady and organized. He was one of the things that made this small coffeeshop so special. All the regulars knew him as, Logan. He came here every morning, four hours before the opening, making the fresh pastries and sandwiches, putting the chairs and tables down and overall just being an average worker. He always finished twenty minutes before the opening, and always used those few instants to settle down, drink a nice cup of coffee and read the news or write a bit in his notebook. The first clients started to arrive, making him put his pen down and finishing the black beverage in a gulp before standing up and putting on his iconic navy apron.

-Welcome to Blue's, what can i serve you today ?

The same song everyday, same rhythm, same orders, same everything. I wasn't boring, he liked the regularity, and people always thanked him for bringing such a peaceful place to the community. But maybe...it was time to bring some new notes in the melody. He went in the kitchen to take the orders out and served them to the clients.

-Oh my god Janus they were right ! This place is so fricki-likin adorable !

-Calm down Pat', you're too loud.

The bubbly and air-headed "Pat" started walking across the place, looking with little stars in his eyes, not seeing that his leg was in the way of the poor waiter, who tripped, letting go of the fortunately empty tray.

-Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Im so sorry sir !

Logan re-adjusted his glasses, lifting his head up to see a nicely dressed man, presenting a gloved hand to help him stand up while "Pat" apologized again, and multiple times, taking the tray in putting it on the counter. -It's okay gentlemen, im not hurt.

He didn't make the effort to take the man's hand to stand up and took time to properly scrutinize him, realizing that he had severe scars on the left side of his face, what were those ? How did he get them ? So many questions that will probably never have an answer. The gloved one gently smiled at him while he went behind the counter to take their orders.

-So. Do you want something ?

He maybe came of as a bit rude, but how was he supposed to react when two dingus came causing a scene i the cafe ? He hated all the attention driven at him and was absolutely embarrassed. The duo walked up to him, the scared man opened his mouth to talk before being unceremoniously cut by the "tripper".

-For Janus over here a black coffee with no sugar and for me it will be a coffee with six pumps of vanilla, two tea spoons of nutmeg, six pumps of caramel, three and half table spoons of shaved milk chocolate, three pumps of praline with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle on top, oh ! With cookie crumbles, almost forgot those !

It wasn't even coffee anymore Jesus christ. Janus looked at the barista shrugging with a small amused smirk. Logan sighed and went to make the two drinks, repeating the second order on loop in his head.

-You think he's angry with me Janus ?

-No, i think he's concerned about your heart-rate and the sugar concentration in your blood, love. Logan came back with their orders and was surprised to see them sitting at the bar. Right in front of him. Why. Janus was calmly sipping on his coffee while Patton took a big gulp of his unholy drink. The barista's face didn't let see any emotion but he was offended, and disgusted that he had to make such a thing and that it was actually consumed by another human being. -A really, appreciable place you have here mister. -Thanks. -You're the only one working here ? -Owner and employee. -But i have a question. Why the "Blue's" ? -Blue is my favorite color. This conversation was dryer than an oatmeal cookie in the middle of the desert. Fortunately, Patton tried to break the awkwardness. -Oh my god ! What are the odds, i also like blue ! My shirt is blue ! -This is cyan. -Well...it's a shade of blue ! Janus giggled at the attempts of his friend before turning to Logan with a pawky smirk. -I haven't recalled seeing ice cream on the menu but holy hell this place's atmosphere is colder than a family in law dinner in the middle of Antarctica. Logan threw a side, electrified look at him which he didn't seem to mind a all. -People don't speak to me usually. They take their coffee and continue their day. -Well unfortunately for you.. He looked at his badge on the deep blue apron. -..Logan, but i really like learning to know people. And you good sir, have peaked my interest. Logan rolled his eyes, turning his back to go and serve other customers. “Peaked his interest”. Huh. What a weirdo. ---------------------------------------------------- That’s all for now grimlins and fanders, maybe I'll get back at it one day, maybe it will just be a series of one shots !

#sander sides #deceit #morality #logic #logan #patton #janus #coffeshopau #sandersides #alternate universe #loceit #moceit

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

I Know Places - Director Orson Krennic x Reader 4 (Rogue One)

* I was originally going to use this song for Patience. So. It’s come full circle!

Finale to I Think He Knows / Hero / Protector

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: We’re here! We are concluding my 4 part Retcon / AU Krennic request series! @purebloodwitch I can never thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to write this! I know it’s taken me almost a whole year to finish it! 🙈 But I do hope you’d forgive me, and I hope you enjoy my conclusion! 💙💜

I Know Places - Taylor Swift Ah, we begin and end with Taylor and also similar titles!

Disclaimer: Rogue One characters not mine / Star Wars plots etc not mine (might have slightly screwed up a little here but...) / lyrics & gifs not mine

Premise: Your relationship is shaky now, how can it not be? Orson’s career is in ruins, and you have strategic battles to win. There’s a lot on both your minds, and in trying to protect each other from The Empire, wires get crossed...

Words: 9834

Warnings: Swearing / Basically constant ‘threat’ / AU/Retcon

______

You stand with your hand on my waistline It's a scene and we're out here in plain sight I can hear them whisper as we pass by It's a bad sign, bad sign Something happens when everybody finds out See the vultures circling, dark clouds Love's a fragile little flame, it could burn out It could burn out 'Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns They are the hunters, we are the foxes and we run Baby, I know places we won't be found And they'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down 'Cause I, I know places we can hide I know places, I know places Lights flash and we'll run for the fences Let them say what they want, we won't hear it Loose lips sink ships all the damn time Not this time Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it, my love They are the hunters, we are the foxes, and we run Baby, I know places we won't be found And they'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down 'Cause I, I know places we can hide I know places They take their shots, but we're bulletproof And you know for me, it's always you In the dead of night, your eyes so green And I know for you, it's always me

---

Orson didn’t have too much time to get totally depressed about it, not really. You were back in the air and had a job to do. But you clearly weren’t his favourite person; when he requested a room of his own aboard the Resolution it stung. But you couldn’t grant him his wish, due to lack of availability. So even though he was in your room he wasn’t sleeping with you, and any time you tried to broach the subject with him he simply pushed you away. You had to give him time, and as much space as this ship, and your quarters, were able to provide. He had to know that you never wanted this. He had to know that your only option was to save his life, again. If the Empire managed to tear you apart over this, then you were about to have serious doubts over how genuine this relationship was.

You were sure he hadn’t been black listed, considering his tablet pinged on occasion and you couldn’t think it would do that for any other reason than work. But Krennic would stare at the message and then sigh and turn it over again. You had thought about leaving him to collect himself on Coruscant but, if you did that, he would likely run into people that would ask a lot of uncomfortable questions of him. Let alone, with the tensions between you, the arms of someone else… he still had that reputation. You were also wary of the potential for just about anyone to come for him again - and at least Krennic agreed that he was safer with you.

You weren’t really sure how you were supposed to tell him that he looked so good out of uniform though - you thought he’d get angry if you did that. It was freedom, you thought. Yet not freedom he wanted. Still, button up shirts and smart black pants were his new uniform of choice and he was easy on the eye.

Today you were sprung into action by an emergency alarm - the Death Star was under attack and your assistance was urgently required. Part of you debated ignoring orders - Tarkin got himself into this; he could damn well get himself out. However, you knew you were already on thin ice you’re your superiors, and it was Orson’s baby. Like it or not that Tarkin was in charge now - you weren’t sure you’d forgive yourself if Krennic found out you’d disobeyed these orders.

You turned to your bridge, after weighing it up and sighed gently; “Okay, Sayra-!” “Yes m’am!” She stood to attention, but it looked like she was already three steps ahead of you. “Make sure that what we’re doing is broadcast ship wide... Tell Tarkin the Resolution is on its way. Alarms on, battle stations, prepare for the lightspeed jump. Don’t wait for my signal, take it as soon as you’re able.” You turned to Jerod, “You think Tully will be there?” “Without a doubt.” “Great - with me, we need a strategy...” Jerod got a little closer than necessary. “This better not be a plan for treason!” “You think I wanna help Tarkin?!” “I think your partner thinks you’ve done enough-!” You scoffed, “All he needs to know is we’re going to ‘protect’ his project.” Jerod smiled knowingly - you still weren’t talking; “I knew you broadcast ship wide like that for a reason.” ** Tully stared at you (probably rightly) like you were insane, “You’re lucky they don’t monitor this-! Are you crazy-!?! Hasn’t Tarkin done enough to you!?” “If he thinks I’m just gonna bend to his will from now on, he’s got another thing coming. I wanna get out of this alive Tully, don’t you!?” “Staying on the edge of the battle is going to look like what you’re saying it is. Y/N, we’re gonna have to really milk this for it to not look like further treason on your part!” “Treason!?” You laughed, “We’ll be helping out.” “Barely...” Tully placed his fingers to his lips for a moment to consider it, “you trust me?” “Of course I do.” “Then we go with your plan. But if he asks me to do more, Y/N-” You held your hands up to stop your fellow Officer from panicking, “I’m not expecting you to follow through when Tarkin starts screaming, don’t worry.” “Why are you so adamant about this?” “I dunno. Part of me thinks I’d feel better, at least, if I saw that thing blown out of the sky.” Tully laughed, with a wink as he signed off, and you heard the rumblings of his ship breaking out of lightspeed. “Be careful what you wish for!”

By the time you were up on the bridge you were also preparing to drop out of lightspeed. “Shields up, get ready to fire on all cylinders. But careful, this Rebel Alliance is tricky. We’ve seen what it’s capable of on Scarif and I’m sure none of us want a repeat of that.” Especially not you. And you were right of course, they were being very tricksy. Exactly what you wanted; time to execute your plan: “I want fighters in the air. Keep a few of our teams on standby. I would expect that the rebellion has more to the fleet and they’re holding back right now... I don’t want us running low before we can even make a dent.” You flipped a plethora of statistics up onto your main viewing screen and studied them thoroughly; the less of your crew that had to suffer the better.

It was all going fine until there was commotion at one end of your bridge, you turned to see officers barring none other than Krennic from entering: “Ranked officers only on the bridge, Sir!” “Sir!?” He spat, outraged, “Ranked officers only-!!? Don’t you dare-” “Stand down lieutenants.” Your voice carried across the bridge and they stood back, “It’s okay. If there’s anyone here that knows anything about this station, it’s him.” Krennic brushed off his shirt and gave them both a smug smirk before he approached you, taking the steps up to your command platform. “General, if I may...” You motioned him to follow you to the window, “You may not be a Director, but in my eyes you certainly still are. Your advice here would be greatly appreciated.” His voice lowered considerably, “The rebellion?! They’re coming for the Death Star and you and I both know why.” You stared back at him pointedly, “The flaw.” “Yes. Now what are you... looking for them to exploit it?” “Yes. And giving them as much time as necessary whilst looking like I’m backing it up.” “Who else is in on this?” “Tully.” “TULLY!?” “Orson, I trust him. My question should be to you, if the rebellion somehow exploit Galen’s one in a million flaw... do you care?” He looked out across the expanse of space, at the orb just floating serenely in the chaos of the dog fights that surrounded it. Krennic was hesitating: and you knew that it was a big decision, it was his life’s work. He might have muttered to you that he didn’t care now it was Tarkin’s, but everything he’d worked for was there - Orson had to decide, and quickly, if he was alright with it being blown up right before his eyes. “No. You do what you’re doing. Do not get this ship in trouble.” You smiled, “That’s my job.” Then nodded to him, “Thank you, Krennic. You are dismissed if you do not wish to stay, and I’d understand that.” “No.” He turned to you. “I’m here.” Then very slowly he slipped his hand into yours and linked your fingers, “We’re going to see this through.” Your smile grew, and you were happy that he was back with you here. Maybe he’d even forgiven you. “I’m glad you’re here. I need you.” Orson’s smile was sincere to match that look in his eyes, “I’m with you, Y/N. I always have been.” *** The dog fights along the surface of the Death Star had you mesmerised, and you kept glancing to Krennic every time his hand tensed in yours. He knew what he was looking for; you didn’t. What you did know was you were losing far too many TIE fighters. “Are we about to fire on the rebel base?” Jarod looked from the planet to you, “Well, yeah.” But then tapped the screen to show the base was obviously shielded. “So why aren’t we getting involved here…” You apologetically slipped your fingers from Orson’s and approached your assistant, “Why can’t we all fire on it, why does it need to be the Death Star?” “You want to get in range of that-!?” “Well, they didn’t exactly care on Scarif.” “Scarif was single reactor ignition, just like Jeddah was. When they blow the planet you’re gonna be glad we’re out here!” You looked back to the orb, “…What are they waiting for?” “What do you think they’re waiting for?” You turned back to Krennic, fingers to his lips, looking worried, “…Hopefully we don’t get to find out.” You cleared your throat and turned back to your communications team, “Pull our fighters back, we are losing far too many in stupid circumstances, I’m not having it. They’re getting too careless.” Sayra blinked at you a few times, “You… actually want me to say that?” “Yeah. I’d rather not have to completely replenish my ranks!” Krennic chuckled from behind you, making you turn to him, “Something to say?” “No.” But he was amused, even with his eyes still on the expanse of space, “Damn, I see why they gave you this job.” Suddenly Krennic’s smile faded and his hand shot out in an urgent need to call you over, turning back to make sure she was relaying your order, you strode over to him. “What?” “See this- this one!” He pointed out the X-wing to you, “That’s a pilot.” “Yeah?” That was not the only reason he’d called you over. “The run they’re making…” He paused, but not insignificantly. Making your own eyes widen as you turned to him, “The flaw is-?” You didn’t have the opportunity to finish your thought, let alone your sentence as the sudden flash of the explosion lit the darkness of space. Everyone on your bridge who wasn’t already on their feet suddenly stood, and gasping and yelling of all kinds was present. The three of you on your platform were stunned into momentary silence as the battle station ignited, and all that was left in front of you was debris. The shock waves carried enough to rock your ship, causing you to grab Krennic to steady yourself. Shield’s whining at the strength. “Pull us back a little, I don’t want any more dents in her!” “Shields are holding General!” “I still err caution!” You stumbled towards the viewing window still staring at where the Death Star should have been, Krennic joined your side. “You’ve heard of poetic justice, right?” “Yeah.” “I think we might have just witnessed it.” “Don’t let anyone else hear that!” Jerod’s screen filled with notification after notification – urgent contact messages, and all for you. Sayra and he looked to each other in sudden realisation and he called you. “General, what is our next move!? The fleet wish to know!” You couldn’t have looked more confused as you turned to him, “The fleet!?” Orson’s voice was much quieter, “Tarkin just got taken off the board, General. You’re the highest ranking officer here now.” Jerod nodded encouragingly to Krennic’s explanation and you swallowed hard as it hit you: Tarkin was gone - too late to help your lover, perhaps. But not a second too soon for your liking. Turning to Krennic your eyebrows raised, “We’re the only ones who know about the fault… we control the narrative!” He nodded encouragingly, making you in turn nod to Jerod, “We just lost our most important battle station – that’s a strategic loss! We’re in sight of the rebel base; who knows what the hell they have down there that can wipe out the rest of our fleet. We’ve just lost our highest ranking military official, and our edge.” You were assured in your stance, “We need to regroup before they can catch us off guard. Lose the battle, win the war. Pull everyone off the field Jerod. That’s an order!” *** You weren’t exactly commended for the battle – but your quick thinking, and quite frankly bullshit excuse, to get away from the rebels was appreciated. Now you were back on Coruscant – and without a super weapon the Empire was in disarray. Not something you wouldn’t bounce back from, but it left you restless. And no one was giving you a promotion to Tarkin’s position. Which annoyed you no end. “They won’t give you what you want, if they did you could reinstate me. Right now, they have you where they want you and unable to assist me.” You turned to Krennic from looking out over the city, “Well then it’s a good thing you still have your architecture.” He shrugged, “It’s still quiet, people are still cautious. Except Lexrul. Which is okay, but… I didn’t exactly grow up on a planet that can afford… me.” Walking across the room to you, Krennic gathered you in his arms and you melted into him, head on his chest. “I’m worried, Orson. This isn’t the end. The Empire will want revenge, but the Rebellion has the upper hand. It’ll get worse before it gets better – I want to be involved in what’s going on.” “And you will be, but you know more than anyone you need to be careful…” He pressed a tender kiss to your hair, “I can’t lose you out there.” “Really? I was under the impression that you’d rather lose your life than those plans of yours.” Krennic tensed suddenly, making you raise your head, “What? What is it?” “They still have my work. Vader will keep you on a leash that’s for sure, but my work.” He took a step back, hands on your shoulders, “Y/N, they will hold me over you as long as I’m breathing, you know that.” “You better not be suggesting anything stupid,” You growled, pulling him back by his shirt collar, “not after what we’ve just been through!” He tried to release your grip on him, to no avail, “If they can’t make those plan’s work-” “Stop it.” That caused your hands to tighten. “They’ll drag me back into it, only I won’t have rank.” “They CAN’T have you. They made their choice. If they think they can take you away just to break you again-” you stopped, and then narrowed your eyes, “Wait. Are you talking about a SECOND Death Star?!” It all seemed fairly obvious to Krennic, “After all why not. Why stop with one!?” “It took you years to get it up and running.” “Yes. But now they have a complete works. Give it 3 or 4, maybe 5 and we’ll have another. I doubt the Empire will fall in that time with people like you leading the fleet.” “Orson…” “Well only one of us will be privy to it, Y/N.” “What if they do?” “…Well, we must prepare for such a situation.” “And the Empire?! You can’t talk about it falling and not-” “Hush.” He placed a finger to your lips, “Don’t think on that one just now.” “Orson!” “Don’t… You’ve done enough. This time you really have…” You let his collar go as he drew you back to him, “No matter what happens, Y/N, I love you.” “Stop talking.” “But-” “You’re scaring me…” You mumbled, burying your face in his shirt, inhaling his scent. Tonight it wasn’t comforting. “Baby, you’re scaring me…” ***

What Krennic had said was deeply worrying, and it weighed on your mind heavily for a whole year. You tried not to let it show, and sometimes you almost forgot, almost but never quite until someone said something that would bring it flooding back. People always liked to ask you what Orson Krennic was doing these days. You made a mental note to distrust everyone that did – and you kept him as close as possible. Luckily, as it appeared the Empire wouldn’t keep to their black listed word, his client base picked up and Krennic became happier. But you didn’t let him out of your sight, and as the Empire sent you away time and again with the Resolution to extinguish pockets of Rebels, he came with you. It was nice sometimes, to return to him after a hard day of ordering people around in some of the most bogged down space battles you’d ever endured. He always took care of you when your nerves were frayed, and it was just as nice to wake up tangled up with him in your sheets. You’d learned that Krennic didn’t so much like being called Director anymore, but the way that General spilled from his lips was still rather pleasing. If only you could command your ship from your quarters, you would stay with him all day. It wasn’t possible; but you would let him make you as late as he wanted. The Empire could keep on blaming themselves for that. These fights were more frustrating than anything else. You never seemed to get a straight answer from the lofty heights of command – now apparently Vader and the Emperor working through others, but you never answered to either of them directly. They were being strategically shifty with you, sending you to far off battles that didn’t mean much - and you knew this - but were apparently ‘important’. You thought all they were doing was wasting your time and resources, and sometimes you felt command wished the Rebels would get lucky and take you out as a problem. It never happened; they should have known better. It was starting to get tiresome for you, and on occasion it was obvious that – despite your rank – the chain of command hardly cared for you. You got a higher frequency of conflicting messages the more you were sent out. To which you’d always turn to Jerod. “So, which one is it?” “Any of them?” “Screw this, we’re doing it my way. What’s the point of this damn bar if they’re gonna control me!?” “Well. The Resolution follows your lead, General.” Apparently no one cared about that either, because you were never hauled into offices for doing things that were quite frankly dangerous. You came to the conclusion that it can’t have been because the Empire was in such disarray – but because they wanted you to make such a big mistake you’d be disgraced or killed in action. You were smarter than that; you didn’t get here on blind luck and you refused to lead good people into a battle without straight orders. Better to ignore them and follow your own intuition and instincts – they hadn’t let you down yet. Besides, you had an ex-Director to advise if necessary – and Krennic was a great card to have up your sleeve. The Empire didn’t see that either. On yet another jaunt across the galaxy, Orson did the unexpected and refused to go. “WHAT!?” You backed him against the old senate building, furious, “Are you insane!? They will kill you if I’m not here!” “Tully is staying, I’ll be fine with him.” “You think I’m going to fall for that-!? You’re coming with me!” Tully cleared his throat, “The Excelsior is in for repairs. Krennic is welcome to stay with me whilst we see to them. I’ll keep an eye on him, Y/N.” You scowled at him, “And what about if you get called off planet!?” “I’ll take him!” Your eyes narrowed, “Y/N, you know I’ll send you coordinates and you can retrieve him.” “I don’t like this.” “You leave him alone when you’re at meetings, right? You know he can fend for himself…” Tully pulled you away from Krennic for a moment, allowing Orson some breathing space and to straighten his clothes. “This could be good for you.” “I’ll just worry-! Tully this is not a good idea!” “Focus on your job for the Empire. What they think you ought to be doing. You already know what they’re trying to make happen here. I’ll watch out for him I promise. You do what they hired you for.” You took a deep breath looking back to Krennic, who was clearly trying very hard to lip read you both. Tully turned you away, aware of this too, “You both almost died on Mustafar. I know you don’t need reminding of that – but they reinstated you. Stay in favour and play it smart. Be the General who is defending her Empire. I think there’s some important strategic meetings coming up about a certain battle station that I could use some intel on, if you follow me.” You turned back around, understanding completely, eyes sorrowful as you looked to Krennic – and yet knowing what you must do. You nodded, swallowing thickly before looking at Tully hard. “Protect him. Or I SWEAR.” “I’m dead. More than dead. I get it.” You gave a firm nod before crossing back to Orson, taking his hands in yours, “Stay alive.” “I’ll try.” “You better!” You brushed your lips to his, “I’ll be as quick as I can.” “Go. I told you before, didn’t I, they’ll follow you anywhere, Y/N. You’re the Empire’s only hope.” You chuckled, letting him go with one last quick kiss, “I think there’s no hope for the Empire you’re thinking of. That went up in flames when they hurt you.” Krennic was good at keeping himself hidden – years as an intelligence operative had sharpened those skills enough to mean that Tully didn’t need to keep as much of an eye on him as expected. Orson busied himself with his work and kept to himself. Except at today’s briefing, where Tully had brought him down to the senate – he would have to impart all the information he heard to Krennic very quickly, and he didn’t think he could retain it on the journey back to his apartment. They both had an inkling on what this ‘breakthrough’ briefing could be about. Tully hurried through the building a lot quicker than he should have to where Krennic would be waiting – almost the very first to leave, Tully had to be extra careful not to look to shifty. Orson swept from his hiding place and in step with the General, as if he’d always been there. “Are we correct?” Tully nodded, “They’re certainly making one.” “And?” “Well your name hasn’t been mentioned yet, but it’s only a matter of time before it is... then god only knows.” “Why has she not been informed?” It may have been obvious, but you still out ranked Tully, to Krennic it made no sense for them to exclude you. Besides, they could still hold Orson over you. “I assume because once they do mention your name, if they decide they need to drag you off to force you to work on it, she can’t tip you off and have you half way across the galaxy...!” “What do they think she’s going to do? I’ll compromise her no matter what!” “Well, what are your suggestions!? They’ll make sure there’s no way to blow it up this time – however the Rebels did that…” “She’s too limited with me alive.” Krennic stopped on the steps and turned to Tully, “There are no more moves to make with me still on the playing field.” “You’re NOT suggesting you die!? After what you two went through!? And how?! Do you KNOW what she’ll do?” “We need a plot. It’ll have to be well planned, complicated and elaborate but… Tully I need to die. Imagine what she can do when they can’t threaten her with my death.” “Complicated is one word for it, how about impossible!” The younger man’s look was sharp. “Not impossible. You and I know enough about the weapons division to know it’s possible… Tully, consider this. There’s a way out of this for all of us!” “Then can we both agree on something, before we think of enacting something so CRAZY!” The General hissed, eyes wide. “Yes.” Krennic blinked, ready to hear something at least a little level headed. “She isn’t going to like this one bit!” Krennic’s face fell, but then he chuckled nervously, “No… she’ll probably kill me herself!” There was an abnormally long silence – and Tully and Orson both knew this was bad even by your standards. You sat listening and all your face went through was varying stages of dread, before your head finally sunk into your hands – and you’d remained in this position after they’d finished. Finally you removed one hand from your forehead and waved it between them; “Which of you idiots do I have to thank for this!?” Orson was defensive: “It’s my idea. It’s the only way this is going to work.” “You think me waltzing into the senate and declaring you dead is going to work, do you!?” There was far too much buzzing around your head about what exactly could go wrong, for you to be polite about it. “There’d have to be witnesses-” You shot Tully a venomous glare, “You?! You think that’d be good enough? They know we’re friends Tully. It’s not exactly evidence is it!?” “Then there needs to be something solid.” Krennic’s eyes fixed to Tully, the two of them thought they’d come up with a good solution. “You have to kill me. To make sure they can’t ever use me against you again.” “-WHAT?!” Your anger at the idea reached its peak and Orson could see the flare behind your eyes that was about to have him met with a string of curse words. Instead he cut over you. “The weapons division will have something somewhere that will look like blaster fire. It’ll probably hurt like hell. Give the illusion that I’m really dead. But I’ll be fine. And it has to be YOU, Y/N, for them to believe you’re back on side. That what happened on Mustafar was more than just you betraying me-” Krennic paused to indicate he knew that wasn’t what happened, “-but was to get you back on track. You and I are done. You used me… whatever anyone wants to call it.” Your eyes flicked back to Tully who nodded to confirm that such weaponry was available. “Well I don’t trust just anyone… What if they deceive me and I end up really killing you?! In fact, I barely trust anyone in the Empire now. It’s getting harder to trust my own crew. It doesn’t surprise me that some of them think I’m losing it…” Not those most loyal, but those on the edge… those amongst the crew who shunned the once great Director, now he’d been stripped of everything. “See-! All you need to do is shoot me. And I can think of a billion times I’m sure you’ve wanted to.” “That’s not the same as really doing it…” You tapped your fingers against your lips, “They need footage. That’s what you’re saying.” “Yeah.” Tully stepped forward, “As for the ammo itself. Don’t worry, I know a guy. I think we can pull this off.” You stood, crossing to your partner, “And then what? When you’re “dead”?” “We win the war. I lay low on some far-off planet. And you come back to me.” “Leave you alone?” He gathered you in his arms, “We all have to make sacrifices for this to work out.” Your gaze fell back to your friend, “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Tully gave a deep nod. “I’ll set it in motion.” He left abruptly with a bow, so as not to overstay his welcome. “You trust him?” Krennic’s ask was quiet, and you scoffed – hadn’t they just planned all this out together? “Tully may be more loyal to the Empire than I am, but he’s a good man. Better than most. I trust him with my life – it’s whether or not I trust him with yours.” “And do you?” Although you didn’t answer straight away, you did smile: “I do.” Krennic didn’t respond with words, instead pressing his lips to your forehead, before looking back over the city. It was now dark, and the stars winked in the night sky. Krennic tried to commit all the architecture to memory – so much of it was his, so much he’d had a hand in. It was never something he thought he’d leave, and yet looking at it now he knew he would be saying goodbye soon. He swallowed hard, hoping against hope that these plans wouldn’t unravel. He needed this to work, for your future together – for you more than anything, Krennic desperately needed this to work. He looked back to the stars exhaling, only luck could save you both now. *** Just when you thought the Empire might be getting back on track, balance tipped. Too many whispers about the return of the Jedi had you thinking they were true and the Empire was just trying to squash them. The Rebellion had hope – the people living under the flag of the Empire who wanted rid of it were gathering in vast numbers. The only thing on your side was your kindness and mercy – but it wouldn’t save you. Anyone taking one look at your rank would have you tried for war crimes at the very least. Krennic, with everyone in fairly good spirits (and seemingly excluded from the second Death Star), had done some travelling to smaller planets where his services were wanted. He’d re-grounded himself on the pretences that perhaps people would think that an unprotected ex-Director’s death would have the same impact on the Empire as a high profile General. He didn’t need that weighing on your mind too. It was only supposed to be a fake death, after all. But the whispers didn’t stay whispers, and people freely and openly talked about defying the Empire – about what the Rebellion was planning. Where once he would have run straight to High Command with this information, maybe even would have run to win back their favour, now Orson only thought of you. Included amongst them – a Rebel fighter who had a good shot at you would only see high ranking official. Not everything else you’d ever stood for. Orson wouldn’t allow it to happen. He COULDN’T allow it to happen. Which is why he sprinted from his shuttle back home. You were just finishing an important holographic meeting as he flung the doors wide and you turned, surprised, as the blue holograms flickered out. “Orson, wha-” “We need to do this. Now.” “Do what?!” “Enact the plan. You need to call Tully and we need to do it NOW.” He pulled your sleeve towards the communications pad. “Orson, Orson, calm down. What’s wrong?” “You know the Empire is falling apart, the Rebellion grows stronger every second we stand here talking. We may not show it on the outside, but there are cracks, you know this.” “Yes, I just got off a call that said something fairly similar. Hey-!” You turned his face towards you with your fingertips as he began punching in Tully’s calling card number. “Slow down a minute. What does that have to do with our plan?” “Everything!” You pulled his hand and sat him down, hands firmly on his shoulders you slid yourself into Krennic’s lap, “Darling, elaborate.” Carding your fingers through Orson’s hair you brushed your lips to his, “And please, calm down.” He took a deep shaky breath, and nodded, “It’s you.” “Me?!” “I mean it’s likely the Rebellion would want to kill me out of spite. I did build the Death Star, but you. You’re a High General. You’re as high up as it gets without being in the… I mean you should be up there. If they don’t KILL you, they will try you and THEN kill you – probably. Prison for sure. If we enact this fake death thing… What if I never get you back?” “What if the Empire pulls through and we have nothing to worry about.” “Yeah, alright. Call this new disarray fixable, if you will. It doesn’t change your role here. If we enact this now, we can get you out of here too.” “Orson, I’m not running from the Rebellion. I’m not leaving my crew and my friends. Not until there is no other choice. But I need to get you out of here and soon, that much is true.” You kissed him gently, “Mark my words, I will return to you. Leave Tully to me. If you panic you will make mistakes; we can’t afford to put a foot wrong here.” Krennic obviously glared at you for insinuating he ever made mistakes – but sometimes he did let his emotion get the better of him. “Besides, Krennic, as if I didn’t before – I definitely outrank you now. I won’t lose you.” You stood, “I need you to trust me with this. I’m trusting your plan will work. You need to let me do my job and finish this fight with the Rebels. Whether the Empire comes out on top or not.” The look on your face was firm, and Krennic knew the only thing he’d get himself into was another argument. He stood with you, and took yours hands. “Return to me. PROMISE me, that no matter what happens you will come back to me.” “You mean more to me than anything, Orson. How could I promise you anything else? I won’t ever leave you. Don’t you know that by now?” He couldn’t help but laugh at that, yes. Of course he did.

Tully’s message just read ‘ready’ - it was dark, and you’d waited up on the pretence of working. Orson wasn’t allowed out after nightfall, that was a rule. Needless to say he wasn’t impressed and whined that you were no fun – obviously to have you prove to him otherwise – but rather that than he wind up dead in some back ally either by Rebel or Imperial hand; or whoever else he’d managed to piss off in his long career. So you’d sent him to bed early – how often did he even think of that, let alone do it? – and sat up with your tablet watching him. You almost missed the message for thoughts running around your head observing him: this wasn’t exactly a new activity for you, but now you were here you were thinking of how much you were about to miss this. His silhouette lit by the harsh lighting of Coruscant’s cityscape, softened by the organza curtains. There was a gentle breeze tonight, cooling, and the light kissed his bare shoulders and arms; highlighting his muscle structure – more battle-hardened warrior than you thought the Imperials would ever give him credit for. Never afraid to get his hands dirty – Krennic had enough smaller marks on him to tell all those stories on their own, you liked running your hands over them as he recited the accounts again and again. You’d never get bored of him; you’d never get enough of him. You tucked your tablet away and pulled on a dark cloak. You walked to the door to leave but paused, turning back to the bed with a gentle sigh, you rounded him. Positive that he was in a deep sleep – you had to be; you knew he slept with that blaster under his pillow. You never mentioned it, but you knew it was there. Such were the times these days. You ran your fingers gently through his hair and bent to kiss his cheek. Orson mumbled incoherently, but didn’t stir. You stood, knowing that you were on a time limit now, but you couldn’t help but smile – once you did this, he’d be safe. That was all that mattered to you now. When you caught up to Tully you unravelled your cloak from your face with an impatient sigh: “Is there a reason we’re sneaking around like this!? I feel like I’m some kind of Rebel intelligence operative!” “If people figure out what we’re doing we have BIG problems. And Krennic being dragged off as a slave to the Death Star is the very least of them. These weapons are probably illegal.” “NOW you tell me.” “Look, do you want to save him or not!?” Tully pulled the blaster out of his jacket – it looked just like something standard issue. You supposed it, or its ammunition, had been highly modified. “So, is this gonna work? He’s gonna be fine right?” “Well... it’s gonna hurt, but it won’t kill him.” Your pause was lengthy; you weren’t sure that you wanted to hurt him, but you supposed it needed to look authentic. If it was painless it would be fairly obvious you were firing blanks. “Are you SURE!? Shit, Tully I can’t risk it on one shot-!” “Look I tried my damn best, I’m not a miracle worker-!” You sighed, tucking it under your cloak, “Well it’ll have to do, you’re a damn sight better than anyone else.” Tully pulled you back, “Just, word of advice, don’t aim for his heart.” “HELPFUL!” You very nearly hit him. “If it goes wrong, we want this to be fixable!” You rolled your eyes, he was going the right way about having you question this completely. “Okay, okay. No heart.” “Are you gonna tell him when you do it?” “No. He knows enough! I want it to be as close to as surprise as it can be…” “Well, I better be there too.” “Why?!” “Well, you gotta move a body and make sure that this doesn’t all fall into the wrong hands.” “MOVE A BODY!?!” Tully waved his hands to quiet you down, “Yeah, what part of ‘act like he’s dead’ don’t you understand, he can’t walk out of the situation, Y/N. That defeats the point.” “Fine. I’ll give you a call by the morning. To set up the where and when.” He nodded, “Then I’ll leave you to it.” You gave a nod, eager to now return to your partner on what could be one of your last nights together for a while. Certainly one of your last nights together on Coruscant. This time when you turned away, cloak hood up Tully didn’t turn you back, and you placed your hand over the blaster to make sure it was still there. What the hell were these men about to get you into-!?

***

It wasn’t so hard to convince Krennic to wander outside, just as it wasn’t so hard for Tully to ‘just happen across you’ and decide to take the same walk. You both knew that not only did Orson need to be shocked at the situation he found himself in – diva he might have been, but there was always the threat of overacting it – but he also needed to say all the right things, in case there were any other witnesses who heard or saw anything. You hoped not, leading him to a relatively quiet part of the city; if there was such a thing. You had coaxed Krennic on this walk with a simple “I want to show you something!” – always a phrase to pique the curiosity of an architect and engineer. There were always new buildings going up on Coruscant, some tucked out of the way, designed by new and upcoming architects that Orson would always take an interest in. He was clearly excited, walking just a little ahead of the two of you, eyes darting around and trying to find whatever it was you might be showing him before you introduced him to it. Tully was watching your face and the way you walked, placing a hand gently to your back. “Steady,” he murmured, “Just breathe. It’s all going to work out.” “I know. But with the whole idea, it’s hard to believe…” “You got this, Y/N… you’re a good shot!” He was shot himself, with a sharp look, “Shut up!” Before you reached back for your modified blaster. Time to put all your trust in the man beside you – and hope that Tully really was a friend, and wasn’t simply playing the longest game you’d ever seen. “Where are you taking me!?!” Krennic stopped in the middle of the small plaza, hands on hips, turning left and right on the spot. He’d run out of ideas, although this wasn’t familiar to him, nothing stood out as worth showing him. When he turned back, the puzzlement turned to shock. It would; you were pointing a blaster at him.

A million thoughts raced through his head. Orson knew what was about to happen; you’d talked about it as a group, and planned it. But he thought he might be more involved in the where and when! Oh. Shit! This is it-! He hadn’t got to say goodbye to the view here, your house, pieces of architecture he was particularly fond of, the last night he would get to hold you in his arms on Coruscant, to friends and acquaintances he’d likely never see again… You swallowed hard, “Sorry, Krennic.” There was hardly emotion behind your words – probably because if you let them flood out, you’d be in tears. “This is the end of the road.” He stared you down, one step back with a smallest head shake, his chest heaved. Upset but unwilling to show it in the face of death. “Y/N. After everything-!?” “Especially after everything! You almost cost me my role in the Empire! They don’t trust me even NOW because of you. Seems they don’t need you for the second Death Star project, so you’ve outlived your usefulness.” There was a flicker of apology in your eyes, you didn’t mean it. Krennic knew that – but he still looked shocked and upset; thank god this wasn’t real… “Tully…” His eyes flicked to your friend, “There must be a way to work this out?” Tully gave a shrug, and there was something scarily icy about him – one of Tarkin’s protégés alright. “You ask me she should have done this a long time ago. Should have given you up far earlier. No hard feelings, Krennic. With your plans in our hands… well, you know how the Empire is. You gotta get ahead.” “You’ve held me down far too long.” You affirmed, taking the safety off. Tully, if this doesn’t work…! Krennic’s time here was ending, and yet he was still only looking at you, “Y/N… Please… You don’t need to do this.” Your voice broke over your next sentence, and you couldn’t stop the single tear from sliding down your cheek, “Yes, I do.” Breathe… Just breathe… You pulled the trigger and the red blaster bolt shot across the plaza with one hell of a kick, jarring your arm, hitting Krennic square in the chest (a little too close to his heart for your taste). He grunted like the shot was real, and with his clothes smarting as he tumbled to the floor, you could hear Tully’s ‘I TOLD you not to aim for his heart-!’ resounding in your head. Only then did you breathe; it was a little choked out, but then you breathed deeper. That was unnervingly easy, you waited a few seconds, but Orson didn’t stir - making you look to the weapon – did it work? It must have. Now to figure out how to get him out of here. Tully seemed to have the details worked out on that more than you did. He was running the operation. Even though you’d just shot the man you loved, you couldn’t help smiling, turning to your friend; “Huh--! That worked!” Immediately colour drained from you and your blood ran cold. You were facing a blaster of your own, and there was absolutely no way you were raising yours without getting shot. You let those tears run now. “Tully, no…” You whispered it. Tully gave a shrug, like it was just business, “Sorry, Y/N.” Your eyes widened, adrenaline spiked and suddenly you couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason. Was this him betraying you!? After everything you’d been through together, he was betraying you!?! Wait! Then what had you just shot Krennic with?! A real blaster bolt!? Had the man in front of you just convinced you to murder your partner? You were outraged, scared, alone. Tully’s finger pulled the trigger back and all you could think of was Orson. “This is for the Empire.”

*** Your head was pounding so hard that even your eyes hurt and that made you unwilling to open them. Even cracking one open and letting the light flood in was blinding. You squeezed them shut and groaned. Your body felt stiff and as you stretched, your joints cracked – complaining at you for having to do something. When you were certain your body might actually obey you, you opened your eyes again, and were faced with a bright white and yellow ceiling. You could feel a breeze too, and curious, you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Aw, she’s back! Sorry that was probably a little stronger than the one you used on him.” You froze, turning your head slowly to one side, met with the grinning face of one General Tully, relaxing on the bed next to yours, book in his hands. “Welcome to the land of the living, Miss Y/N! Course I can’t call ya General now. You’re officially dead!” You blinked a few times, utterly confused and stared down at the rest of your body, now dressed in a soft white button up shirt and pants, this was very reminiscent of a hospital – but there were no machines or medicine in sight. Turning to him quicker and ignoring your head spinning, you glared: “You’re lucky I don’t KILL you!!!” All he did was laugh, and you had to put a hand to your head, closing your eyes to stop yourself from throwing up; “What the hell was in that?!?” “A decent amount of Tranq. Don’t worry you’ll be fine.” “Geez. Remind me never to ask you for a favour again.” You managed a chuckle, rubbing your head and turning to the bed next to you, half expecting to find a woozy Krennic waking up. Panic seized you when the room was empty. You weren’t in a position to stop it from crossing your face, but Tully soothed you. “Don’t worry, he’s fine!” You looked back to your friend; “Was this your idea!?” Tully shook his head slowly, eyebrow raised: “You don’t think he wanted to keep you safe too?” “Son of a-!” You lay back flat on the bed and sighed deeply. Tully was the only one in on everything, you were glad Orson trusted him that much. With both of you ‘dead’ – both of you were safe. And you assumed now far away from the Empire. It was well orchestrated, you’d give the General that. You bit your lip, a wave of sadness overcoming you at the consequences of a plan you hadn’t been aware of; “I never got to say goodbye to my friends...” “Don’t contact them yet. When whatever happens is over, they’ll find out you’re safe. If you trust them, they can know the truth.” “My ship...” You loved the Resolution. Everyone on it – what about Jerod, he was a great assistant. He didn’t deserve this… Sayra, always ready to go along with any of your ridiculous schemes and communications. Without her you’d never have got Krennic back on Scarif. You owed so much to them, just leaving like this wasn’t fair on either. “Sorry, Y/N. It was the only way.” You wiped your eyes and sniffed, swallowing hard, “I’ll reach out in due time. So they know the truth, those you want to know. But you can’t disclose your location.” “Do they know you did it!?” “No. Tragic rebel accident - don’t worry they were caught and killed. Unfortunately, your civilian partner also died. Guess some rebels saw the Director and didn’t care.” “And the rest of the Imperials?” You wondered how some people would take the fact that Tully had to announce your ‘deaths’, when he’d clearly been the one to kill you as a High General. At a time when the Empire would need people of your ranking most. “I’m sure you know that you’re not favoured amongst them. All I had to do was find the ones who would want you off the map... and get their blessing.” “You’ll be okay?” “Yeah. Found a good planet, got them on board and dressed them as flight crew. Easy to move and dispose of the bodies. Cleanly.” He indicated around the room, and you guessed that it must have been their planet that you found yourselves on now. Tully wasn’t staying, that was obvious, he’d go back to the Empire and do his job. No questions, no answers. “I feel like it’s good we’re friends. Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you! No wonder Tarkin liked you so much!” He laughed again, “Well, you know... luckily you’re the good sort.” When your body had calmed again you sat up and this time your look around the room was more pointed – searching for clues as to if there was a third person here somewhere. Nothing, though. To stop you potentially fretting over whether or not you might have accidently killed him, Tully nodded towards the open door, “Go on, go outside!” You turned questioningly to him, but he just gave you a smile like you didn’t need to ask, and turned back to his book. With clearly no more conversation coming from him you slipped off the bed, your legs immediately buckled from having to take your weight. You heard Tully snort from behind the pages, making you glare back at him, before you stood straight again and continued walking forwards. How long was I out!?! You stumbled a few more times but could catch yourself, and by the time you reached the door you were walking perfectly normally. Your breath caught momentarily, the planet was beautiful. The particular part you were on like a small cluster of houses on a resort. Bright sunshine and tropical plants, not a beach, but a resort you might expect to find on one. Standing at the end of the (alarmingly orange) stone pathway, arms folded and studying the sky, was Orson. You leant against the door, suddenly incapable of calling him, but overcome with happiness. Your plan had somehow worked. You had both made it. Stepping down onto the path was a little hotter than you expected – and you exclaimed your surprise before tentatively placing your bare foot down again. Krennic turned at this sound, instantly smiling and watched you careful navigate down the steps, only raising your head when you got to the bottom – when you beamed. “Tully said it might take a while. I woke up on the way here. Took me a few days to function fully… so be careful.” You weren’t about to heed that, of course, and ran the rest of the way to him, throwing yourself into his arms. “We made it.” “We did… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” “Oh, you’re in SO much trouble!” You giggled into his shoulder, loving that you could hold him close. If you’d stuck by the original plan, you might have been leaving him on such a planet and returning to war – this way you at least got to keep holding him. Krennic wound his arms around you, “We’ll stay for a little, but I’ve already learned much. This planet is unable to support us fully. There is a ship docked with enough fuel to take us to the outer rim. I suggest we find a planet and stick to it. Tully already says we ought to change our names, I’d like to think it will be temporarily.” “Well look at you, doing all your research.” “Not much else to do. Figure out how to rebuild from scratch. A challenge, but a fun one.” “You’re an architect and an engineer. You built a whole damn battle station that people named – and subsequently proved was – a planet killer. I think building a new life somewhere will be no trouble.” He chucked, a little bashful, “Perhaps. We shall see. I have you too, that’s more important than any of that.” You grinned, pulling him closer, “Ah, you old romantic.” Lips to his, Krennic wound his arms around you. Now you had the whole galaxy and the rest of your lives. You were safe, for all intents and purposes you were dead - ghosts, whispers across the galaxy. It was time to start again, bigger and better. And you could build this better future together.

*** It took a shockingly short amount of time for the Empire to fall to the Rebellion and their Alliance. But it also took longer than necessary for the news to spread across the galaxy.

The war is lost. The Emperor is dead. The Empire is broken, the Rebels win. One short transmission, heralding the arrival of something much more important. The Imperial Cruiser looked out of place so far from home. In the skies above a far, far, far outer rim planet. Out here they hardly even knew what the Empire was – Krennic wasn’t a name people had heard, beyond the skills of a certain architect who was making quite a name for himself. And his wife, a skilled Engineer – and tactician; if you needed something planned out or strategized for you, she was your woman. They had come from relative obscurity, to escape the Empire, and now lived in solitude on the far side of the planet they decided to inhabit. House fronting onto a private beach, there wasn’t another soul for miles. And yet everyone who wanted to, knew exactly where to find them. The Imperial Cruiser that landed on your beach front was, however, not an unwelcome sight. You and Orson stood in the doorway both smiling. “Is he an idiot?” “Think they’ll get shot out of the sky around here?” “Aren’t we supposed to be hiding? A well-intentioned missile and they’d be toast.” “Who around here would know how to do that?!” You raised an eyebrow at him, thinking that he already knew the answer to that question, before jumping down onto the beach and heading towards the cruiser, now opening its door. Orson followed you slower across the beach, but was the first to wave as Tully hopped out onto the sand – in civvies. “I see you’ve dropped your rank bar, General!” “Well, gotta survive somehow!” He grinned, as if it hadn’t been so long. As if the last time you saw each other wasn’t him hurriedly boarding his cruiser to head back to Coruscant, before you and Krennic had even decided on what you wanted to do. “I’m glad to see you, Tully. I’m happy you’re alive.” “It’s good to get to see you. Got a little sticky at the end there…” He ran a hand though his hair, “We got out. We’re okay.” Tully nodded back to you, “Lot changed?” You laughed, “Well, married now.” “Shit-! Really? Congrats! Nice house.” “Well, marry an architect and… his work becomes…” You waved in the direction of the house, “I’m very proud of him.” Tully called back to Orson, “She’s talking like you aren’t here!” “She’s very welcome to if it’s all compliments!” At first they shook hands, but then it became more of a hug, “Now we’re all civilians I suppose things can start… becoming more normal for us.” “We can hope.” Tully grinned, “I still can’t decide, part of me wants to join the Alliance, the Republic. Defecting – maybe but, I know where my strengths lie… Or live a quiet life like this…” Krennic scoffed, “You’re young. You have time.” “I do. We all do.” Tully turned back to you, “I have some people for you to see.” Your eyes widened, “You do!?” “Mhm.” All three of you turned back towards the ship as Jerod descended the ramp with a sheepish grin, holding his hand out to help Sayra hop down after him. “Hey, Y/N.” “J-Jerod!!” You ran to him and you embraced, “Holy- Oh my- I’m so- I’m so sorry, I-!” You were nearly in tears as you hugged Sayra tight too, “Hey, when Tully got back, he told us everything we needed to know. I get it.” “The Resolution, I-!” He grinned and Tully howled with laugher, both of them had made a bet on how long it would take you to mention your beloved ship, “Well, she, survived. Right until the end. But we never did find a captain quite like you. She’s holed up on a star base. Decommissioned. Sad but beautiful. You’d be proud of her and her crew, Y/N.” “I always was.” You smiled, grateful that everyone you cared about was here, and safe. Hopefully they could make lives for themselves in this strange new world, just as you had. Krennic cleared his throat, “Well, much as we could stand out here on this gorgeous beach all day, you’ve have had a long flight. Can we offer you a drink, of any strength?” Tully immediately grinned, “I’m here for it.” “5 o’clock somewhere!” Jerod agreed, Sayra beamed, “Besides, you’re really into wine, right?” “You’re lucky I like you enough to break out a good bottle.” Krennic’s humour was dry but still raised laughs and you nodded along. “Come on, you three should rest up, get comfortable.” “Yes M’am!” They grinned in unison and you couldn’t help but beam back. Orson held his hand out for yours as you all made your way back across the sand, and somehow that beam became stronger. A ray of sunshine; both of you free from the constraints of the Empire – you’d grown in ways that neither of you had ever dreamed. And you’d done it together. It was time for your friends to do the same, and you were looking forward to seeing it. You caught his eyes, and Krennic smiled to, squeezing your hand a little tighter. Who would have thought you’d end up here? From glaring at him in his pretentious classes (you’d always stand by that), to ordering him around as his superior officer, to a romantic relationship seemed far-fetched enough. Now you’d been through hell and back and faked your own deaths… on to marrying out here, so far from all you’d ever known. Yet, you knew there was so much to come. You pulled yourself into him, winding your arms around his and resting your head gently on his arm as Orson continued to banter with the others. Whatever there was yet to face, in this strange new world of the Republic, you’d do it together. Stronger than ever.

--- Thank you very much for requesting this from me! I hope the conclusion was worth the wait! Thank you for reading! 🥰💕

#181 #Ben Mendelsohn #Director Krennic #Orson Krennic x Reader #Director Krennic x Reader #Orson Krennic #I mean He's not a director anymore but here we are...#Linzi Writes #Linzi Writes Requests #Smol Bean Drabbles #Basically played Levitating by Dua Lipa on repeat to write the back half of this.#Which is funny cuz i'm giving it to Keller BUT it would work for Krennic.#Anyways that's beside the point #Ya'll be sleeping on everything but ITHK - ya'll all love that #and I'm like /theres 3 more! C'mon!/

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