#adding red embroidery to everything lately

[lwbu]

Love Will Bury Us

Chapter 3

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pairing: aemond targaryen x targaryen!oc

summary: Alyssa Targaryen cherished chaos, its presence a comforting reminder that she was alive and breathing. But when dragons danced and fire erupted, her chaos was no longer her own. As the last of control slipped through her fingers, a hand came in its place — cold, possessive and unforgiving, and it belonged to Aemond Targaryen.  

content & warnings: f!oc, targcest, so much tension it hurts, slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood and violence, spoilers for hotd, morally grey characters, additional tags to be added

word count: 4.2k

notes: aemond is more babygirl than my thesis. english is not my first language. all feedback is very appreciated. also on ao3 and wattpad.

"I've heard the servants whisper about me." A girl of eight, burdened eyes expressing nothing but utter confusion. "A bastard, they called me, but I didn't understand."

Daemon Targaryen watched his daughter, face unresponsive if not for the dangerous glint in his eyes that could not be registered by a child. He watched and saw only shattered fragments of himself, present both in the prideful tint of chin and the vicious inferiority complex that clawed at one's mind, betrayed by the repeatedly bitten lip. He watched and searched, and found fire.

"They said the lady Rhea Royce could not have birthed me because she was long gone by the time," she continued, voice smaller and smaller with each word. Motherless, her consciousness spat at her and once more she endured, too stubborn to let it cut any deeper. "They called me a liar, again and again. A filthy little liar . . . and I think it made me angry."

Fragments of himself, indeed, yet still too pristine to let the rage unfold.

"Do you remember what you truly are?"

She could never forget and so she whispered, "a dragon."

"A dragon," he repeated, hand falling down to brush the top of her head adorned with pearly hue of white. "And what does a dragon do when angered?"

Alyssa knew that. She would, perhaps, always know, and the knowledge would eventually lead to an act.

"It burns."

Perhaps it was the leather clinging to her skin that made breathing difficult; perhaps it was the sweetness of terror unrelenting in its might, and the intense shadow that now ardently followed behind, an oddly unnerving silhouette with a glimmer of silver. Exhaustion sank deep in her flesh and bones as she pushed through a labyrinth of corridors, lights flickering around, feet aching as they moved. The Red Keep, in all its unfamiliarity, had chosen now of all times to mock her, the unending passages trapping her in a disoriented state.

Entering the castle unseen had proved difficult, Baela and Rhaenys cornering her with conversation already on their lips the moment they had spotted golden embroideries of her cloak. Rhaenys, clearly fatigued with the upcoming event yet still with a small smile, had then playfully chastised Alyssa for reeking of smoke. Baela had grown into a beauty of a regal kind, so similar to the late Laena in its astounding grace. And though aloofness was there, her voice had been sweet and gentle when she greeted Alyssa. Taking it as a chance to evade her father's scrutiny, the girl had accepted the invitation for a short walk with the two.

The Red Keep was both breathtaking and underwhelming. There was a perplexing sense of perturbation that washed over Alyssa with each of her steps and breaths, yet the castle itself sang songs of endless glory, the very essence of Targaryen dynasty long left behind but not forgotten. With little interest, she observed the walls that had seen and smelled blood spilled in the name of secrecy; the walls that had undoubtedly heard whispers of the cruelest of intrigues. It was both the past and the present, forever merged into one being, and everything the House of the Dragon had ever represented. It was a temple, an altar, a grave—a witness of mercy and violence alike. Still, even walls of such significance appeared trivial if compared to the vastness of all the realm. Alyssa, with her spirit's intrepid desire for freedom, had no love in her heart for places that sought to imprison her. Baela perhaps shared the view, for she had lacked her usual curiosity and remarks.

As they'd parted, both her companions headed to their chambers to ready for the petitioning, she instead chose to explore more, as if to find some validation for the importance the castle held. It had been foolish to believe herself capable of navigating through the keep, though. A stranger, an intruder, a threat; a presence so mere yet striking, and so alone that the shadow following her around could easily unleash its rage upon her while unnoticed. Now, she was left a prey to the beast.

She shouldn't have allowed Aemond Targaryen to poison her mind with paranoia and sculpture it in a shape fit to his palm. He had tricked her into obedience, put her into the very spot he wanted her in, placed a cold hand around her throat and mercilessly squeezed. Stupidly, she had let a dragon chase her and now he knew her scent.

Alyssa understood at last that Aemond's game had yet to end. It was a play foul and daunting, the rules untold, and there she was—disturbingly close to losing. She cursed the man who dared instil such irrational fright in her life, claiming her thoughts as his own, the beat of her heart now dependent on him. She cursed him even more, for she knew it was scarcely the beginning; what was to come would surely only hurt more.

She was lost. In a desperate attempt to save herself from the lurking presence, she had manoeuvred her way through corridors, each of them gloomier and narrower, and now was left with no more oxygen to take into her greedy lungs. Alyssa stood amidst silence and fire, and begged for the flames to swallow all of the Red Keep. If only she herself could breathe it, she thought, the castle would long be turned into ashes. As it was, the fire remained confined and the walls untouched, and she was deprived of all sense of direction.

It was a heinous act, Alyssa knew, but still thought of Blindfyre who had by now undoubtedly sensed her distress and made it his own, and how the fire of his blood would easily bite into stone. The thought of her dragon, a lone reflection of herself left behind with nothing but paralysing unease, forced Alyssa to strangle the fear and push forward. Turns and twists blended into one, yet she kept going, black cloak now clutched in her hand and sweeping the floor behind. Passages watched with mocking gleam, unwilling to set her free as they elongated.

The shadow was there and it whispered a vindictive pledge of atrocity. And though the distance remained between her body and the dark silhouette, Alyssa felt as if she'd been hit with a force of such magnitude it nearly made her knees give up.

Then there were steps, a rough strain against the songlike tranquility, a storm in a cloudless sky.

Her heart threatened to burst into flames and pieces. Alyssa tried with all her might to stop an embarrassingly alarmed sound that pleaded to escape her lips; she was a dragon, she was, and a dragon would not surrender. If need be, she'd scrap skin and tear it, and spill blood, blood—

"Alyssa?"

She knew that voice by heart, would recognise it even in the middle of nowhere, even at the end of the world.

Lights flickered some more and there stood Inid, face pale as if she'd witnessed a crime, eyes widened in an unnatural manner. She was out of breath, short hair a mess, robes creased.

She must have been running, Alyssa thought. And yet what could have possibly forced to do so?

And why, why did she look equally haunted?

"What are you doing here?" Inid asked, gaze wandering through the passageway. She searched and found nothing, and yet the apprehension remained.

Was she anticipating the shadow, too?

"What are you doing here?" A sharp demand for an answer that would without a doubt lack sincerity. Alyssa knew immediately what the look in the maid's eyes meant—a secret, yet another one to add to the already enormous pile of them. "Surely your assistance is required elsewhere."

It was uncommon for the girl to speak to Inid with such coldness. She had always been a friend, their souls long entwined. And yet the torment had succeeded in stripping Alyssa of any tenderness, the shadow invisible but its hands clawing at her shoulders. Inid, too distracted by whatever her mind's discomfort was, did not pay much attention to the biting tone.

"Forgive me, my lady," spoken so quietly it barely reached Alyssa's ears at all, "I was . . . I was only looking for you."

And of course it was a blatant lie. Too tired to fight, to release her anger, to make her word alone be the final one, Alyssa let it go.

"Very well. I wish to go to my chambers. The pathetic Velaryon twat will petition soon."

"Of course," Inid answered with a small nod, "of course. Come now, my lady."

For someone who claimed to have been lost, Inid managed to lead them through the corridors with enough ease. The walk was quick and silent, and Alyssa bit into her tongue to stop any words from being spoken. She no longer allowed her eyes to linger on the walls and doors; she had not once turned to check if the shadow followed. When they arrived at the destination, she straightened her posture, feigning poise.

"I will bathe and dress myself. You may leave."

Inid made no sound of protest; had she tried to, it would have fallen on deaf ears, for the door had already been shut.

Her chambers were stripped of fire. The theft of what had so far offered the last of succour only enraged her further. With a huff, Alyssa threw her cloak to the floor, angry fingers already working on the lacing of her corset, nails digging into both leather and flesh.

There was so much muteness it engulfed her completely. She wished she could have instead chosen to share the room with Rhaena; even the most annoying of her sister's endless prattles would be more agreeable than this.

It was after the corset had fallen to the ground that she noticed something on the bed, a dark spot staining the creamy silks.

She knew what it was before her fingers brushed through the fabric. A black glove of a dragonrider, a perverse invasion, a message—the game ought to be played. It was laid there with too much precision to mistake it for an accident.

The shadow had been inside her chambers and wanted her to know.

Once more, it seemed that all of the court had taken to exchanging whispers of Daemon Targaryen's uncontainable wrath that surpassed the might of any king. The maimed body of Vaemond Velaryon now served as a warning, a reminder, a promise—all enemies shall pay in blood.

And so the whispers echoed through the walls, yet they had not, despite their immensity, managed to make Alyssa heed. The girl had instead sank deep in her mind; as she sat in the Godswood, only one thought remained.

It was today that she had ultimately gained understanding of the force with which a father loved his firstborn. Because it was love and nothing else that had given Viserys Targaryen the strength to once more sit on the throne. It was love, the purest of all, that had allowed him to defend and support his daughter. It was love, no more and no less, that had kept his frail, weakened body going.

She sat there, full of anger because fathers loved and yet even this was not enough. She sat there and ached for the loss that was to come sooner rather than later.

And she could tell by the air alone that something else entirely would start the moment everything else reached its conclusion. Whatever it was, she knew now it would end in blood as it always had.

Alyssa greedily soaked in the short moment of isolation she'd been so kindly granted, wishing for Blindfyre to be there with her, to hide her tear-stained cheeks with his dark wings. Then, after one last breath of fresh air, she stood, feet already carrying her to where Inid was waiting. The maid now looked more like herself—the paleness gone, the once haunted eyes calm. Alyssa gave only a weak smile and no words at all, and soon they were marching back towards the stillness of preface to the following chaos.

The King wished for a peaceful feast with all those he held dear to his heart. He didn't know, perhaps, that said peace was unattainable in the midst of predators. Or maybe he truly knew nothing of the poison in their veins—so atrocious and sinful, and crafted by faithfully harboured hatred.

She could no longer remember a time she had not been late to just about any affair that required her presence. An unladylike behaviour, and one that would soon get her in trouble—and yet the satisfaction of making those she appraised with disdain await her was too pleasurable to resist.

The look on her father's face, however, quickly eradicated any remnants of delight.

"Sit," he commanded and offered nothing more.

Her eyes swept through the hall. Both the Queen and King were not yet present which provided a glimpse of ephemeral comfort. The Lord Hand, Otto Hightower, barely spared her a glance, too engaged in a conversation with Helaena Targaryen. The Princess was a delicate contrast to the harshness of her brothers. With all might, Alyssa avoided looking at Aemond; instead, her eyes found those of Aegon that now shamelessly ogled her body hidden beneath crimson gowns tight enough to reveal her shape.

She could not burn, yet the gaze she felt on the side of her face was becoming too scorching.

"How kind of you to join us, Cousin!" Aegon stood from his seat, a cup of wine in hand, eyes darkened and focused on a spot much too low to be deemed appropriate. "How kind, indeed."

It was the King's wish, she reminded herself. She, of all people, would not be the one to ruin the night, even if it meant executing fake courtesy and impeccable manners.

"You must forgive me, Aegon," she replied, though her eyes blazed. "Every lady yearns for moments of privacy."

The Prince smirked and nodded, though it was clear he had not taken notice of any of her words. With a raised eyebrow and slight turn of head, she looked at Rhaenyra in an unspoken question. The exchange itself was brief enough to go unnoticed by those who knew not what to look for, and yet Alyssa took it as a permission. Glee returned, a glint in her eyes, she added a quick but loud:

"Although, if word of the court is true, you seem to not quite understand the concept of both a lady's wish and her refusal."

All smiles and politeness, as had been promised, and yet if they wanted to silence her, they'd first have to take her tongue. Aegon's elation faltered, albeit marginally.

Whether or not Alyssa heard the deep, familiar chuckle at all, she chose not to acknowledge it.

The gods were not kind enough to give into her desires, for her seat was a mirror of the one across, and so she ended up being devoured by the flames of Aemond Targaryen's stare. Fate, she realised, had been playing the game all along and it favoured him. Alyssa allowed herself only one peek: as expected, his one eye was already watching. And there it was, a single black glove right next to his hand that rested on the table, as if to once more provoke her, to elicit an involuntary response of bitter fury.

He would have to wield his violence with unparalleled precision to tear it out her throat.

"I thought you'd be far on your way to Dorne," her father mused, wine staining his lips. "It would've displeased me to be forced to track you down."

"I would never do that," though never was too strong a word for such a meaningless promise. "Who do you think I am?"

"A terror," he told her in a tone that indicated anything but sincerity.

Rhaena, sat between Alyssa and Lucerys, giggled, though the sound vanished when Alicent Hightower marched through the door.

Even with years gone, it was unimaginable to think that the Queen had once been the dearest of all friends to Rhaenyra. The two women clashed and contradicted, black against green, graceful gentleness against the crazed look conflicted with hostility not yet deep enough to strike. Alicent greeted her children and father, and then, not without wavering, sent an acknowledging nod in Rhaenyra's direction. The last bit of the times long erased; a tribute to the past.

It was soon after that Viserys arrived, no longer possessing the strength to use his own legs. Her uncle, the one who had once clapped the loudest as she sang his favourite tune, who showed only kindness in the limited time they'd spent together, was now only a ghost of his old self.

And oh, how fitting it must've been for those clad in green to have him so weak that he could no longer bear the weight of his crown.

This silence was different. It came with both disquietude and desolation, and grasped the hearts of those present in its clutches of unforgiving kind. It stretched endlessly and grew, bred by the promise of storm and onslaught that was there, always there, and now threatened to become a hurricane. Viserys, blissful in his ignorance, observed with half of his face melted into gold.

He looked so small, Alyssa noticed; perhaps the crown had long outgrown him.

"How good it is," and even his voice was barely recognisable, "to see you all tonight . . . together."

Somehow, even the prayer that came after his greeting felt like a knife twisting into guts. Indeed they sat together, true to the King's word, and yet the wall built with bricks the shade of mistrust and scheme had gone unnoticed by him. It would be easier to share his bliss, if only for a short moment. This privilege, Alyssa would never be given.

Then came insincere toasts, cups raised and wine acrid, swallowed with hidden repulsion, already forming a sickening bile. Alyssa forced herself to hold Aemond's gaze as the liquor painted her tongue. He downed his cup in one gulp, fingers twitching as though searching for something to pierce through. It was pulse he sought—the feel of blood flowing through thin veins, the chance to drain it out until every last drop pooled at his feet. It was power he wanted, a victory, and her defeat.

Alyssa's unrelenting resistance seemed to only fuel his want and take away any semblance of restraint. That induced intense satisfaction. She would take his control as he had stripped her of hers. She'd take all there was and make it his downfall, forge a dagger with it just to stab him, just to mark his pale skin with her signature.

For now, so early into the descent, she'd simply play the game.

Viserys Targaryen, so desperate to see and in turn be seen, had peeled off the protective layer of his mask. A face eaten away, torn to shreds, ruined by illness. An evidence to his weakness, a testament to his collapse. Yet Alyssa knew the truth: whatever state the King was in, whatever pain had overtaken his body and mangled his skin, the ones surrounding him sat with their souls rotten in ways hundred times worse.

When the King requested a song, she shaped it into a silent goodbye, lips trembling but voice persistent. Under the table, her sister's hand found hers and for a fleeting moment she felt warm. It was gone soon, and so was her uncle's consciousness; she wondered if, troubled by such grievous pain, he had even heard that she'd sung the song he loved the most of all.

"Thank you," Rhaenyra whispered to her, a brief smile without any depth.

Awaiting the storm, Alyssa lazily looked around, the faces of her family inexpressive. Emboldened by the wine, she once more, now without any reservations left, looked at Aemond. She couldn't stop the way her breath stuttered, though it remained unspoken what exactly had warranted such reaction. He was so elegant in his effectively contained roughness; so proud in his posture that he managed to make everyone else present appear insignificant. Eye patch in place, it did little to conceal the emotion swirling in his expression. Alyssa recognised it for what it really was—Aemond had, it seemed, long mastered the art of presenting his aversion with a carefully designed pretence of composure.

When soon Jacaerys and Helaena swirled around, Alyssa joined both her sisters in the middle of the hall. Hands clasped together, long skirts weaving into a mess of fabrics and colours, a delighted laugh; perhaps she deserved this small moment of joy. Perhaps it could last just a bit longer.

But the back of her neck kept burning, burning, burning...

"Why is he looking at you like this?" Rhaena's question did little to confuse her, as she did not need any explanation. She instead wondered if her father had already noticed as well. Surely, that would be a definite end of something she had yet to fully comprehend.

"He looks at everyone like this, Rhaena," Baela whispered conspiratorially, amusement on her full lips. "Maybe it's the eye that makes his face appear so sullen."

Or maybe it was Alyssa's presence alone, though she chose not to entertain the thought. Instead, she dived into chaos—this, she knew and controlled best. With a parting pat to her sisters' palms, throat already dry, she turned around to find him right where he had been sat all along.

There was something alarmingly obsessive in his gaze, menacing and unpredictable. And there she was, playing the game as he had encouraged her to, steps lacking any hesitation, a moth to a flame. His eye, she saw, was darker than she'd remembered it to be. Or maybe it had darkened upon resting on her frame; maybe it meant something. Maybe she should not desire to find out what that something was.

He smelled of the same wine she'd drunk, yet now it lacked the previous bitterness. Aemond's head tilted slightly to meet her eyes and she found no question on his sharp face. He must have realised her intentions long before she dared come near.

"Won't you ask me to dance, Cousin?" The raspiness of her voice surprised her, though perhaps she should have known it would be there. "Or were you watching me for another reason entirely?"

"Hm." This sound she knew, too, and silently cursed herself for recognising. Aemond's body straightened even more, face nearing hers when the lacework on her chest brushed against his spine. The corner of his lips quirked up, and had she not been so close, she would not have been able to notice it. "You would like that, would you not?"

Alyssa offered no answer, though Aemond appeared to have formed one himself, for his smug smile briefly stretched.

His fingers twitched; she so desperately wished not to see it but still did. "And yet it is not dancing I crave."

It was dangerous and so, so sweet, a promise of gratification, and she could not stop.

"Perhaps a song, then? You seemed to enjoy the previous one."

"Whatever song you have in mind, sweet Cousin," he was so close, closer than ever, too close, "I assure you, it would not be to my tastes."

Was no one watching them? Or had they all long left the hall, vanished into air, disappeared without a trace? Was she left alone, once more a prey, though this time unwilling to flee?

Would he dare come any closer?

"What would be to your tastes?" Alyssa asked, both eyes searching for the smallest of his movements. He was, however, perfectly still. "A song of battles and bloodshed?" But did she not know the answer already? Was it not in her heart and mind both, constantly torturing her? "Is it violence you want on my lips?"

She wasn't sure if she'd been whispering all along. Now, the words that fell from her mouth were barely distinguishable; she doubted anyone else would have been able to hear them. She cared even less.

Only now did she truly realise how tall he was. Alyssa stood right behind him, a trembling hand resting atop his shoulder as though to taunt him some more, and yet even as he sat on the chair, she saw him drink in every word she gave him with surprising ease. In a swift motion, Aemond grabbed his cup and smeared the crimson liquid on his lips, a sight so surreal her grasp tightened just so.

"It's already there, Alyssa," he murmured in return, her name spoken with something of the most perplexing nature. "Perhaps that's what I enjoy most."

She heard Lucerys's unashamed chuckle long before she registered what caused it, the sudden sound forcing her to take a step back. The night Aemond Targaryen had lost his eye still haunted him, a very evidence to the trauma he now carried. His palm was harsh when it hit the table, body shooting upward, the roasted pig right there in front of him. Now, he wasn't looking at her, skin no longer burning. As he stood, his frame overpowered hers completely. Alyssa wasn't sure whether to welcome the disruption with relief or hold her breath in silent trepidation.

In the havoc that followed, her steps carried her away from him. She allowed rage to overwhelm her completely, for she now knew the one source of it.

The game, perhaps, was exactly this: giving and taking, and forcing the worst of fury out of its constraints. With this thought, just as Rhaenyra rushed them out of the gate, Alyssa offered Aemond a parting smile filled with mockery and nothing more.

She was far from finished, mind unsatisfied, and so she'd compel him to follow.

#aemond x oc #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond fic #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #aemond one eye #targaryen!oc #ao3 fanfic

[nihusharma]

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[winsbuckart]

Timeskip design for Hestia. 

You dropped your emotional stability and moral compass Queen!

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd art #dnd character #dwarf #sorcerer #winsbuck #i love this one so much #adding red embroidery to everything lately #yes you have to suffer yet another ' its just a ref in standart pose' art from me #i wanna give all my characters bomb ass design they deserve

[nxrthmizu]

kill em’ with kindness

fandom | miraculous ladybug 

genre | lila salt, so much salt 

summary | marinette takes the high road to a better life. 

w.c | 8.1k 

author’s note | had this idea for a few days after i wrote victory tastes bitter, which really blew up on ao3 (thanks for all the support <3). always wondered what it would be like if marinette just. played nice. so here she is, being an absolute badass. 

author’s note.2 | okay so since i did not write this in one sitting, i get that the story probably doesn’t flow as properly as it should. will edit if i ever find the will to do it. 

Marinette was done. They wanted her to be a model student? Fine. They wanted her to stop being mean? Fine. They wanted her to be friends with Lila? Fine.

Luckily for Hawkmoth, no akuma plagued the sky of the previous night, or she would rain hell on him. There was no more tolerance left inside her to spare, and she certainly wouldn’t go out of her way to make some for the manipulative pest problem Paris has had for way too long.

She looked up into the mirror, having exchanged her pigtails for a low ponytail, strands curled to frame her face. Bluebell eyes glistened with a fire that burned brighter than hope— Hope that her ‘friends’ would see sense. Hope that Adrien would be there for her. Hope that the good guy would always get the happy ending. No more being patient, no more being passive, no more putting up with things she didn’t have to.

If Lila Rossi wanted a battle, then fine, a battle she would get. Marinette was lowering her white flag, replacing it with a battle emblem that scorched red, redder than blood and redder than the anger her friends would feel when she was finished. No more peace negotiations. Rossi wanted a fight, Rossi wanted a challenge. Who was Marinette to deny her from what she wanted?

They didn’t know what was coming for them.

The power of makeup was truly one that reigned apex among the world. A few touches of her makeup brush was all it took to erase her dark eyes from existence, give her skin a more radiant glow (She promised that she’d take time to give it a natural glow after she was done being nice), and ease a cherry-pink blush onto her cheeks, making her freckles stand out more in contrast. Marinette Dupain-Cheng meant business, and when she meant business—

“Good morning, Marinette! You look great today!” The head of the student council, a sensible, down-to-Earth blonde by the name of Noelle smiled, speeding up slightly to catch the bluenette on the steps of Francois Dupont. “Love the new look.”

Ah yes. The new look— A royal blue blazer, detailed with golden embroidery of cherry blossoms bursting at the sleeves and the collar, accompanied by a classy-looking silk blouse tapered with a soft, black felt. The pleated black skirt (Made from heavy cloth so that it wouldn’t flap about in the wind) was lined with a beautiful scarlet at all the edges to complete the look. Knee-high black socks trailed all the way into the slight heels that Marinette had added flower adornments on, just so she could tap a little of her own touch on it.

“Thank you,” Responded the bluenette with a smile.

“Woah! Someone looks like they got a good night of rest.” Madeline, the president of the Art Club teased, flocking to the other side of the girl. “That mascara looks sharp enough to kill, girl!”

Sharp enough to kill?

Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, Marinette mused to herself, sending out thanks to those who had complimented her on her way to class. Nothing sharp was going to be required for the liar’s downfall— No, no. That would just be too messy, and she wouldn’t even think of staining her new outfit. Of course, the ensemble was crafted from her own hands, as stated by the classic MDC that graced the inside of her blazer, the collar of her blouse, and one of the pleats of her skirt. Besides… Lila wasn’t worth getting her hands dirty.

She was going to do things the right way.

The kind way.

“Good morning, everyone.” She greeted, walking into the classroom, garnering their attention with her punctuality. Every set of eyes in the room were attracted to her, like iron fillings to magnets. Some of the gazes were malicious, hateful; Some were doubtful, wary; One was pleading, as if spelling out ‘Please keep taking the high road!’— And then there was Chloe, who was entirely uninterested.

Good, Lila was already present.

“I’d just like to take a minute of your time. Won’t be too long, I promise.” She took a deep breath, ignoring the imploring gaze that dug at her side, courtesy of a blonde that sat in the front row (And no, it wasn’t Chloe she was referring to). “I’d just like to say…”

The class watched with bated breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Alya blinked. So did everyone else in the room. Stunned faces greeted Marinette’s apologetic one, including Lila’s— She didn’t even have to fake her reaction. What on Earth was Marinette trying to pull off? What kind of stunt was this?

“I realise that I’ve not really been the best version of me lately,” She admitted sorrowfully. I haven’t been the best version of me because I was being boycotted and isolated, “It wasn’t fair to put you all through this,” It wasn’t fair that you idiots had to lose all your reputations because of the words of one liar, “And people got hurt as a consequence,” Me. I was the one who got hurt. “I realise that things haven’t been all smooth-sailing in our class lately, so I’d like to apologise to everyone.” I’d like to apologise for not being able to save you from a liar who only sees her own personal gain.

A practiced breath escaped Marinette’s throat as she waited for her cue— The school bell— And set her bag on the teacher’s desk. Good, everything was unfolding right on time. Not quite far away, there was a distinct clack-clack-clack of someone’s heels— An auburn teacher, perhaps? Marinette reached into her backpack and drew out a package she had meticulously wrapped in brown paper and tied in golden ribbon. Sitting passively on top of the package was a small note, decorated in hand-drawn flowers and a hummingbird in the corner.

“Here,” Marinette strode up the steps of the class, stopping right in front of her former seat— Now Lila’s— Internally taking pleasure in the first time she’d seen the Italian’s true expression. “For you, as a token of my apology. I understand if you don’t want to forgive me,” Marinette swallowed painfully, biting her lip, as if she was trying not to cry, “But I just want to make things right.”

Lila blinked.

What the hell was happening?

The silence was broken by a quiet sob, one that did not originate from Marinette. Instead, Mlle. Caline Bustier stood in the doorway of the class, clutching her books and notes for the day’s lesson, wiping away a tear that dropped from her eye. “Oh, Marinette,” The teacher sobbed, “I’m so proud of you.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Marinette.” Rose sniffed, wiping away a few tears of her own that had started dripping during the bluenette’s speech. Juleka patted her girlfriend’s back, trying to calm the emotional blonde before she cried out a tsunami on top of her textbooks, giving Marinette a thumbs up to show her approval.

Alya beamed, seemingly proud of her former best friend, who had (In her opinion) finally started to see sense. “I’m so proud of you, girl!”

(Adrien was too shocked to form any words.)

“Could you… Open it?” Marinette asked hopefully, ignoring the teacher for the favour of the liar who ruined her life. “I… Just want to know if you like it.”

The Italian could do nothing more than grit her teeth when Alya urged her to open it. What kind of trick was Mari-Brat up to? Never mind— She’d just spin it into something stupid and the class would take to it like starved animals. With no other choice, she tore apart the brown paper, discarding the golden ribbon on her desk. The class gasped, oohs and aahs echoing all around as the package unfolded to reveal a pretty, beige-coloured cardigan, hand-stitched with murals of foxes, jumping livelily among berry bushes.

Stitched into the inside of the cardigan in pastel blue were the words ‘Lila Rossi’, done in an exquisite cursive that could no doubt only come from Marinette’s hand.

“I made it for you myself,” Marinette sniffed humbly. “I know you’re a really great model and you’ve probably seen clothes that are much better than this one, but I poured all my feelings into it. I spent every night of last week working on it, and—” She hiccuped rather loudly, instantly covering her mouth with her hand in embarrassment. “I just hope you like it.”

“I…” Lila was at a loss for words. She had an itinerary full of the lies and stories she would spin that day (“Marinette texted me mean things last night,” she would weep tearfully to Alya, sniffing and wiping away tears on Alya’s shirt sleeve, “I just want to be friends but she just keeps… Attacking me!”) but no matter. A smirk danced along the Italian’s lips. “Did you design this yourself?” 

Judging by the smirk that Marinette could practically hear in the other girl’s tone, the liar already had a trick up her sleeve. If Marinette had to guess... 

Something along the lines of she stole this design from [random designer], who just coincidentally had the time to be Lila’s friend. Or maybe the friend of Lila’s grandmother. Whichever didn’t matter much, because Marinette was prepared. 

Marinette crossed the room in mere seconds, returning back to Lila’s seat with a sketchbook that she’d pulled from her bag. “Here!” She chirped, flipping open the page with an exercised movement, not even having to shuffle through the pages to find the correct sketch. “I brought the original sketch, just in case you wanted to see it so you could get a professional to redo it for you.” 

Lila opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish out of water. Beside her, Alya’s eyes sparkled, envy still glowing in her eyes at the sight of the intricate foxes, coloured in hazel, gold, and orange threads. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” Lila gritted through her teeth, basically seething at the thought of having to thank the girl in front of her, who was smiling like an innocent sunshine child. 

The bluenette then turned her attention to her homeroom teacher. “Sorry for interrupting and taking up class time, Mlle. Bustier.” 

“It’s not a problem, Marinette,” Mlle. Bustier wiped at her eyes, slightly embarrassed now that the whole class was watching her cry at the sight of her ‘model student’ correcting her wrongs. “E— Excuse me.” She mumbled, clearing her throat. “Let’s pick off from where we stopped yesterday. Open your textbooks to page 63, please.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The rest of the day went along smoothly. Marinette sat at the back of class, as usual, sighing in boredom as class was derailed off course, whisked off by another one of Lila’s tall tales. Honestly, they were already weeks off schedule— How the hell were they expected to sit for the final exam, at this rate? 

She huffed quietly to herself, watching Bustier trying (and failing) to act like she wasn’t interested in Lila’s story. The woman— An actual adult— Fell for Lila’s usual tricks like a fool, taking in every single word in drunken thirst. Did Mlle. Bustier really have nothing better to do than get absorbed in a teenage girl’s wild fantasies (in a way it was like that). At that thought, Marinette sat up straighter in her chair, an idea going off like a lightbulb above her brain. 

Was it...? 

After further thought, Marinette settled back into her chair, humming thoughtfully as she drummed her fingers against her table quietly. Yes... Yes, perhaps. 

Perhaps it was possible. 

The rest of the lesson passed in wasted time as the class took a major detour to go on a warped journey through Lila’s lies, and before Bustier knew it, the lunch bell had rung. Students chattered animatedly as everyone got up, Mlle. Bustier’s announcement of ‘please go home and study this chapter by yourselves, everyone’ was pathetically drowned out by the rest of the noise. 

Marinette collected her things quickly, needing her exit from the classroom to go off without a hitch, exactly the way she planned it. “I’ve got to go back to my parents’ bakery for lunch,” She said shyly, shrinking into herself as her classmates turned to look at her. “I... Was thinking of bringing some macarons back later. Before I go, though... Lila, is there anything you’re allergic to?” 

“What?” The girl being asked snapped back as a reply, the words leaving her mouth too fast for her to register. Before she knew it, the whole class was staring at her, mouths agape. “I... I mean.” Clearing her throat, the liar plastered on a sweet smile. “What was it, Marinette?” 

“I wanted to bring some macarons back for everyone.” Shyly, the bluenette repeated her plans. “And... Since I’ve been in class with everyone else here for a while, I know their allergies, but not yours. Is there anything you’re allergic to that could be in baked goods?” 

The Italian cursed under her breath— Mari-Brat really wasn’t letting up. The bluenette had made sure to cover any ground that the Italian could use and turn back against her. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m not allergic to anything.” 

Brightening visibly, Marinette nodded, shooting the Italian a smile. “I know things between us aren’t going to get better immediately, but I promise to do my best in fixing things! See you guys after lunch.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila was getting really, really fed up. For the whole morning, she wasn’t able to come up with any reason to blame Marinette. If things kept going at the rate that they were, the class would be fully convinced that the bluenette was a changed woman, and that couldn’t happen. There was, in the end, a downside to having such a gullible bunch of classmates— Sure, they swayed easily to her side, but that meant that they swayed back to Marinette’s just as easily. 

Hissing under her breath, Lila looked up to catch Alya and Nino’s concerned looks. 

No. 

She was Lila Rossi. She was resourceful. She had Gabriel Agreste behind her back. She was powerful. She was not going to let Mari-Brat halt her plans in their tracks ever again. 

“I’m going to go use the bathroom real quick,” She said, excusing herself from the lunch table. Perfect! Now all she had to do was come back in tears, saying that Marinette confronted and mocked her in the bathroom, and the class would be all hers, once again. 

Little did she know that Dupain-Cheng was one teensy step ahead. 

As soon as Lila rounded the corner of the cafeteria, Marinette appeared, having just had a lovely chat with Rose (And Juleka, although it was Rose who did most of the talking). The two were at the front steps of Francois Dupont, having a lovely couple moment that Marinette hated to interrupt— But she needed to have at least a word with them. 

“Rose, Juleka!” Marinette greeted, box of macarons held carefully in her arms, as if it were a box of important jewelry instead of just a box of pastries. “Oh— Rose, is that a new watch? I’ve never seen you wear it before!” 

“Yep, it is!” Rose beamed, delighted that someone (Besides Juleka) had finally noticed it. “Isn’t it pretty?” Indeed it was. The watch in question was a pretty, intricate-looking thing done in rose-gold metal, with a pastel pink leather strap holding it down. The background of the watch face was a white background with a thin film of rose-gold metal, cut to resemble a wall of precious rose vines. 

“It is!” Agreeing wholeheartedly, Marinette offered her classmate a smile. “Oh by the way, what time is it?” 

Rose peered at the watchface, returning the answer with an equally-bright smile. “11.47.” 

“Thank you.” Marinette thanked, continuing her way through the school until she reached the cafeteria. Just before she fell into line of sight, though, she hid behind a wall, peering over the corner until she spotted the table she was looking for. 

Perfect— Lila just walked away. Marinette thanked the gods for all the luck that she was having— Okay, maybe she thanked one god in particular more than the others. Gently, she patted the secret pocket that was sewn into the lining of her blazer— Tikki, who had magic powers, managed to create a miniature ‘room’ inside the secret pocket, with the pocket itself acting as a portal of sorts to the room. After a few seconds, she felt the pocket tap back, managing a small smile of gratitude for her kwami’s constant love and support. 

“Hey, Alya, Nino.” Marinette greeted shyly, box of macarons propped up against her hip. “Where’s... Lila?” She hesitated slightly with her question, acting as if it was a little out-of-place to ask about the Italian girl. 

“She went to the bathroom.” Nino provided, mouth still full of unchewed food. This gifted him with a smack from his girlfriend (“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” she scolded,). 

“Oh, I see.” I definitely see. I know what she’s going to try and pull later— I have to time this properly. Timing is everything. 

Marinette continued to make small talk with the two, whom she had not talked to for a very long time. Much to her surprise, they were very warm and accepting, quite unlike the people who slung slurs and accused her baselessly a few days ago. One morning made all the difference to people who believed anything, she supposed. 

All of a sudden, something in her chest buzzed, as if it were a fire alarm, vibrating in warning— She had to go. “It was nice talking to you guys again.” She admitted, having briefly dipped into a pool of what their friendship used to be like. “But I have to go. I promised Kagami I’d meet her for a few minutes before lunch ended.”

Alya’s eyebrows jumped up comically in surprise. “I didn’t know you still talked to her. I thought you two were… Love rivals.”

“So what if we were love rivals?” Marinette shrugged with a simple smile. “Adrien is… As much as it’s odd to admit, he’s just a boy. Neither of us let him get in between us. He’s just a boy, and it’d be stupid for us to not get along just because we like the same boy. It doesn’t bother Kagami that we used to like the same boy, so why should I let it bother me? Besides,” Marinette tilted her head slightly. “It’d be stupid to give up a great friendship just because of a boy.”

With her last words still hanging in the air, Marinette turned tail and left, walking faster than usual. She had little time left— As she neared the wall that would shield her from the view of the cafeteria, she sped up her footsteps, practically half-sprinting just so she could get out of sight before Lila Rossi returned, looking like someone just killed a puppy in front of her very eyes.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” Alya jumped to her feet instantly, reaching out to comfort her best friend, who was moments away from having tears stream down her cheeks.

“I… I thought she’d changed.” Lila sniffled, biting her lip to appear as if she was desperately trying not to cry.

Alya frowned. “Who?”

“Marinette.” Lila stated as if it were obvious, faltering for a moment— Why had Alya bothered to ask? Shouldn’t it come pretty obvious? The liar dismissed the thoughts and continued in her performance. “She threatened me in the bathroom. She… She confronted me and mocked me, saying… Saying that all of you… All of you are idiots for believing that she’s changed. She… She said everything was an act to turn you all against me.”

Nino’s jaw dropped so far that it touched the floor. “Uh… Dudette, are you sure it was Marinette?”

“Yes!” Lila spun to look at him so fast that it was a wonder she didn’t break her neck. “Are… Are you doubting me? Oh my god, it’s working. She’s turning you guys against me. I just want to have friends, I don’t get why she hates me so—”

“You’re… Absolutely sure it was Marinette? You saw her face?” Alya repeated her boyfriend’s words, emphasising each and everyone of them as she looked Lila in the eyes.

“Alya, not you too.” Lila sniffled, tears basically dropping out of her eyes like big, fat droplets of salt water. “It was her— I saw her blazer, it had MDC stitched onto it.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in between the girl and her boyfriend, neither quite knowing what to say. “Oh. I… I see.” Alya said at last, turning back to her food. “Well… Lunch is almost over. Let’s… Let’s get back to class.”

“Marinette just threatened me in the bathroom!” Lila puffed up, clearly upset now. “She mocked me! She called you guys stupid for believing her act!”

“Dudette.” Nino shattered the ice-cold silence at their lunch table, swallowing heavily. “Marinette was with us the whole time you were in the bathroom.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The tension inside the room was so thick that Adrien could cut it with his bare hands. God, what had happened? The day had started off so well— Marinette agreed to be friends with Lila, god bless the girl— But as it turned out, one hurdle folded over only to be towered over by a taller one. 

“Alya—” Lila began tearfully, her pitiful look attracting the sympathy of those who still didn’t know what was going on. 

“You claimed that Marinette threatened you in the bathroom.” Alya interrupted. “While she was with us the whole time in the cafeteria.” 

Faltering, the Italian struggled to find a way to squeeze herself out of the tight spot. “M— Maybe it was someone else.” Reluctantly, she backed out one trap into another one. 

“You said that you were sure! You said that she was wearing a blazer with MDC stitched on it. Marinette was wearing that blazer during lunch!” The reporter shot back, Nino at her side, trying to extinguish the conflicted fire blazing inside Alya’s heart. 

The seeds of doubt had been sewn, and Lila was going to have a tough time weeding them out. “I... I’m sorry!” She burst out into tears, sobbing pitifully in front of the class, most of which were already in attendance. “My lying disease is acting up again. I... I can’t help it. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!” 

“Uh... Is this a bad time to ask if anyone wants macarons?” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, standing at the front of the room. Her royal blue blazer had been shed, and it now hung over her arm, properly folded into half. Earlier, she had asked Rose for the time to make sure that she had a witness in case Lila tried to pull another act— But as it seemed, the Italian was determined to dig her own grave and all the work had been done. 

The students of Mlle. Bustier’s class shared looks. 

“I’ll... I’ll have one.” Mylene cleared her throat, hoping that it would diffuse the situation. 

“Me too.” Kim followed, not missing the way Marinette flinched slightly at his words. Most of the words he had said to her of late had not been nice at all— But he justified that with the fact that she was being a bully to Lila, like Chloe had been to Marinette herself. 

“Great!” Marinette cleared her throat awkwardly, slapping on a strained smile. She passed the box to the front row, where Sabrina and Chloe were, gesturing for them to pass the box along until everyone got their fill. 

Internally, Lila seethed, anger burning like a wildfire that tore down every lush sign of life in her path. The girl had never felt that livid in her entire life— Who did Dupain-Cheng think she was, having a change of heart out of nowhere, pretending to play along with those oh-so-innocent eyes of hers? 

“I... I think I know why my disease acted up again,” Lila sniffled, loud enough to gather attention again. Unsure glances passed around like an object that no one wanted, carried from hand to hand forcefully as no one wanted to hold onto it for too long. “It... It must’ve been because of... Of the cardigan that Marinette made me! You must’ve known that...” The Italian squinted at the cardigan on her desk, “... Cotton triggers my lying disease!” 

The bluenette, still passing around macarons, stopped in her tracks. Inside her mind, Marinette was shaking her head, an amused smile on her cheeks. She had to give Lila credit for that one— She would’ve never anticipated that lie from her nemesis. “That’s terrible!” She sucked in a breath, putting on a dismayed look. “I’m really sorry, Lila! I know it seems like I did this on purpose, but I promise I didn’t! To make it up to you, I’ll make you another one.” 

Is she serious right now? Lila scoffed mentally. How long does she plan to keep this going? No matter— She’ll eventually drain herself out and I won’t even have to meddle in this matter. 

Marinette sniffled, collecting the cardigan pitifully from Lila’s desk. “But to prevent future incidents, Lila, I just want you to know that this isn’t made of cotton... It’s made from the highest-quality of star silk, which is incredibly difficult to produce and is rather expensive. It’s such a pity... I thought that only the best of materials would be deserving to be used to make an apology present... I guess you can’t wear it. I’ll just make another copy of the cardigan with some normal-range silk.” Sighing, the bluenette pretended to mull in sadness for a few seconds before an idea struck her. “Alya! You aren’t allergic to star silk, right?” 

The flow of conversation redirected suddenly, with the reporter snapping to attention and nodding eagerly as she realised what was about to happen. 

“Then... Since I’ve spent so long on this, I don’t want it to go to waste... Why don’t you have it, instead?” Offered Marinette with a sweet, shy smile on her face. 

Lila, still caught up in shock by the reveal of the material— Was then slammed with a wall of flaming anger as Alya squealed, coddling the soft, fluffy material that made the cardigan the exquisite product it was. 

“Marinette’s right,” Adrien chipped in with his own two cents, “Father can rarely get his hands on that material— It costs a fortune, and if hand-made... It takes forever.” 

“Oh, I wove the silk by myself,” Marinette added shyly after Adrien’s contribution, “So I apologise if it’s not up to the quality of industry-level star silk.” 

The reporter gushed, still cooing and running her hands over the gorgeous threads of fabric that made up the cloud-like base of the cardigan, eyes sparkling and the details of the embroidery. 

Marinette smiled, returning to her seat without a fuss. The rest of the class continued to pass the pastries around, the perfect description of ‘ignorance is bliss’ as they pretended as if they couldn’t see the way Lila was shaking in anger. Alya, on the other hand, could see nothing but the garment in her hands, her ‘best friend’ having become invisible for the time being. 

Just as well that it turned out this way, Marinette hummed, twirling her pen in hand, Let that be my departing gift to Rena Rouge. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomorrow arrived like clockwork, never late and always on time. The crowd of students clamouring by the front of Francois Dupont hushed to silence as they parted for two dark-haired women, both of which were giving off waves of confidence. Simple conversation flowed between the two, who were perfect examples of elegance and grace, their traditional-inspired attire complementing the royal-like aura they had. 

“This dress is really lovely, Marinette,” Kagami smiled gently, admiring the way the fabric flowed around her. The designer had gifted her friend with a maroon-coloured hanfu-inspired dress, complete with hand-sewn embroidery of a golden dragon curled around Kagami’s waist and neck. The dress was completed with a pleated skirt that went all the way to the heels. At first, the fencer was reluctant about the skirt due to the limited maneuverability, but then Marinette revealed that the skirt was very simple to take off as it was just tied around the waist. 

“You look gorgeous in it. It suits you.” Marinette replied, dressed in a similar looking dress. Her hanfu-inspired dress was light pink in colour, with silver threads depicting cranes flying about freely. The pleated skirt was grey in colour, lined with a soft circle of white. 

Kagami blushed slightly. “Thank you.” Briefly, the Japanese girl wondered why on Earth Marinette would go and embroider a dragon onto her dress— Was it purely a coincidence, or...? 

“I’m really glad you decided to transfer here,” Marinette smiled softly, her dark blue bangs framing her face as the rest of it was gathered into a braid that Kagami had helped weave. “It’s going to be nice! I’ll get to see you a lot more often.” 

“We’re in different classes, though.” Frowning, Kagami wondered if she should request a change of homeroom. 

“For now.” The designer winked playfully. “Oh, I have to get to class. See you during lunch?” 

Without waiting for a reply, the blue-eyed girl moved away gracefully, leaving Kagami in confusion. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Good morning,” Marinette greeted gracefully, sweeping into the classroom with her bag over her shoulder and a package in her hands. This package was clearly not as exquisitely-wrapped as the one from the day before, as it was just brown paper and some rough string. 

Alya brightened at the sight of her friend, shrinking away slightly whenever Lila tried to say anything. Sure, the reporter did shake off the initial reaction and respond to whatever her ‘best friend’ said, but the damage had been done. 

“Here’s your new cardigan. It’s made from the same material as your shirt,” Marinette smiled warmly, placing the package on Lila’s table. “It’s a little different from the one I brought yesterday, but I still poured in all my emotions when I made it, so I hope you’ll accept it.” 

Through a gritted smile, the Italian thanked the designer, clenching her fists under the table. That was the second time in two days she had to thank Mari-brat! She swore that if she had to do it again a third time, she was going to slap someone. 

“Oh, Marinette!” Alya called out excitedly, wearing the cardigan that was originally supposed to be Lila’s. “This cardigan is so soft! It’s really amazing to wear! As expected of you, girl!” 

The bluenette stared back at the reporter, wavering for a bit. She had a feeling that Alya wanted something from her... 

“So... I was wondering...” The reporter’s expression turned sheepish, with Marinette’s internal thought-train going ah, there it comes— “Could you remove this and put my name instead?” Alya picked up the corner of the cardigan, pointing to the inside of the garment, where ‘Lila Rossi’ was embroidered on. 

“Ah...” Marinette didn’t even have to fake her nervousness. We already agreed on this, She told herself, No more doing free stuff for people. No more. “Sorry, Alya. My parents need a lot of help in the bakery recently,.. You know how it is! Family always comes first. I’ve already taken out a lot of time to make the cardigan for Lila... And I promised Kagami I’d go out with her this weekend. I’m afraid I don’t have time...” 

There was no missing the way Alya’s face fell instantly. “Couldn’t you put off Kagami for me? Aren’t we best friends?” 

“I thought Lila was your best friend,” Feigning an expression of innocence, Marinette tilted her head slightly. “You shouldn’t go around saying things like that, Alya. You might hurt Lila’s feelings. Besides, a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t want to hurt Kagami’s feelings either. Not to mention— I gave you that cardigan for free. That was two weeks’ worth of hard work. I’m afraid I don’t have the ability to take time out to alter it for free either. If you really want to get it done, you could ask an external tailor to do it for you. I know a few who can do really good embroidery.” 

Alya faltered. “But... We used to be best friends...” 

Snorting mentally, Marinette continued to hold her calm composure. “Like I said, you really shouldn’t say that, Alya. Lila might get upset and we don’t want to hurt her feelings— Right, Adrien?” 

The blonde jumped when the conversation turned to him out of nowhere. All of a sudden, every eye in the classroom was fixed on him. “R— Right, of course.” He said, forcing out each word. 

Satisfied, Marinette nodded, still wearing her ever-so-kind smile. “Exactly.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Hey, why don’t we all go out and have a picnic outside during lunch?” Alya suggested loudly, jumping up as soon as the lunch bell rang. “Marinette, you can come along too!” Something inside the reporter’s chest was stirring, and with the events of the past few days, Alya felt like she just had to quench that unsettling feeling— And the first step to that was to mend things with Marinette, even though it was the bluenette’s fault for always having been biased to Lila. Alya smiled, proud of herself. She would be the bigger person, she would forgive Marinette, she would integrate the designer back into the class again. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marinette replied just as quickly, “We don’t know what Lila might be allergic to— She could easily trigger a reaction if we go out, especially since it’s spring.” 

A collective choir of groans rounded the class. 

“Well, I’m going to go back to the hotel to have a first-class meal,” Chloe turned her nose up at her classmates. “... Dupain-Cheng, would you like to come?” 

Shock painted the faces of the whole classroom. Did Chloe just... Ask Marinette something... Politely? 

“I’d love to take that offer, Chloe.” Responded the bluenette, graceful and flawless as ever. “Perhaps tomorrow?” 

“Suit yourself. They’re serving lobster today.” Chloe huffed. “If you’re really that busy, then fine. We can discuss...” The Mayor’s daughter trailed off as she blushed. 

The bluenette giggled knowingly. “You’d like to commission a dress from me, right?” 

“... No.” 

“...” 

“... Maybe.” 

“Alright.” Marinette nodded. “Then maybe it’ll be more convenient if I head over to the hotel after school. I’ll need to take your measurements and we can discuss the prices after.” 

“Whatever.” Chloe waved her away haughtily, a poor effort to cover up her embarrassment. “Sabrina. Let’s go.” 

“Chloe?” Alya guffawed. “Why are you commissioning something from Marinette?” 

Rolling her eyes as if Alya had just asked the stupidest question ever, Chloe answered plainly. “Because she’s one of the up-and-rising designers in the industry? Have you seen what Dupain-Cheng is wearing today? Celebrities are already fighting for spots in her commission list. Even my mother and Gabriel Agreste acknowledge her talent. I’m not dumb, Cesaire. I can recognise a future fashion queen when I see one.” 

Wow, Marinette breathed, looking at the stunned faces around the room, Chloe sure knows how to create an impression. 

“W— Well.” Stuttered the reporter after Chloe made her big exit. “Then... What about going to the bakery for lunch?” 

“Didn’t Lila say she saw a rat in the bakery the last time she visited it?” Marinette pointed out. “The health officer checked the surveillance and the claim was dismissed, of course, because my parents make sure the bakery is as hygienic as possible— But I’m sure Lila is traumatised from that incident. I wouldn’t want to force her to come along to the bakery— And we wouldn’t want to leave her out either, right?” 

This elicited another round of groans. 

Oh, I am enjoying myself way too much, Marinette chuckled mentally. 

“Then— Then...” Alya struggled visibly before she was put out of her misery. 

“It’s fine, Alya.” The designer reassured her. “I wouldn’t want to bother Lila. I’m sure she’s still upset at me. You guys go ahead. I have to go back to the bakery to help my parents out. See you guys after!” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Slam! 

Lila fumed, hand still pressed on her locker door. What. The. Hell. Was Mari-brat trying to do? She didn’t miss the way some of her classmates sent her unsatisfactory looks after that pre-lunch stunt that Marinette had pulled. 

And what was the thing about high-and-mighty Chloe commissioning from Marinette? 

Sure, Lila would admit that the cardigan that the designer made was indeed gorgeous, and the fabric was smooth and velvety, a quality unlike any of the clothing that Lila had ever had the privilege to touch— But surely a lowly brat like Dupain-Cheng couldn’t be that popular... Right? 

Dammit, hissed the Italian girl, Maybe I should’ve tried being friends with Mari-brat instead of Cesaire. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Is that... Marinette and Kagami?” Nino gaped, prompting Alya to turn around. It was true— Walking up the steps of Francois Dupont together were the two blue-haired girls, a gentle smile dancing on Kagami’s lips as Marinette talked animatedly, her hands waving around quickly to further elaborate her point. 

Students lounging around the entrance for lunch couldn’t tear their eyes off the two and their matching dresses. Sure, the two girls had walked into school the same way that morning— But now that the afternoon sun was high up in the sky, the golden and silver embroidery was glinting luminously, revealing the true caliber of Marinette’s craft. 

“But... They’re rivals.” Stuttered Alya. She just couldn’t understand... Weren’t they supposed to hate each other? 

“They both like Adrien but they can still get along,” Nino remarked thoughtfully, taking a bite from his sandwich. “So Marinette wasn’t lying about going to meet Kagami yesterday.” 

Alya was silent. 

“Alya? What’s wrong?” Worried, Nino put a hand around his girlfriend’s shoulder, care and concern shining through his honest eyes. 

“If... If Marinette doesn’t get jealous or biased over someone who also likes Adrien...” Alya started quietly, eyes still fixed on the two girls, “Then why was she so against Lila?” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Mlle. Bustier?” The teacher looked up at the voice of her favourite student. Fondly, she smiled. Marinette had finally seen the light and changed her ways, becoming the helpful, generous, kind Marinette that served as a great example for her peers. “May I make an announcement before class ends?” 

“Of course, dear.” Mlle. Bustier gave permission instantly— Marinette was taking up the reins of leadership again! The teacher couldn’t help but do a happy dance internally. 

“I have an announcement to make, so if everyone could listen, I’d be really thankful.” Marinette started, her clear blue eyes meeting those of her classmates. 

She took a deep breath. This is it. I’ve done what I needed to do, now it’s time to finish the job. 

“These past two days... Have been great,” Marinette started wistfully. “I really missed hanging around everyone, just like we did before,” Before you all turned your backs on me and stabbed me when I wasn’t looking, “But I can’t deny— And neither can you— That the things that have happened... They had a really deep impact. And I’ve realised that I can’t just ignore that damage that has been done.” The damage that has been done to me. “So, for the better of everyone— I’ve decided that I... Will transfer classes.” 

It was as if an explosion had gone off in Mlle. Bustier’s classroom. 

“Girl! You can’t do that!” Alya exclaimed in dismay, “We can fix things! Everything has been going well these few days, haven’t they?” 

“Dudette! Honestly, we forgive you.” Nino sighed, “Things just aren’t the same if you’re not here anymore.” 

Adrien didn’t say a word, but the imploring gaze he wore said enough. Please don’t leave me here alone. We promised we’d fight together, right? As long as both of us know... 

Marinette held her hand up to silence them, and the classroom, just as swiftly, became the deadly silence that followed post-disaster. “I understand. But once again, this is for the better,” — Of my mental health, “I’ve talked to Mlle. Mendeliev, and she’s agreed to take me in. I believe that once the changes have taken place, we can all grow more freely without restrictions.” 

In the corner, Mlle. Bustier was tearing up and dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Mlle. Bustier,” Marinette turned to her teacher, no malice in her eyes. “I’ll be under Mlle. Mendeliev’s care now.” 

“Marinette...” The teacher sobbed quietly, with Chloe shooting her a look of disgust from the front row. 

“It’s not going to be easy for any of us,” Marinette turned back to the class, “But with time, I’m sure we will all prosper. Especially since you will now be under the care of our one and only Lila Rossi.” 

Adrien looked like someone had just killed a puppy in front of him. 

“Since I am the current class president, I thought I’d pass on the duties onto the most capable person in our class.” Marinette explained warmly, never moving her gaze away from the bewildered Lila. “Lila has the most connections in our class out of all of us, and she’s met so many CEOs and entrepreneurs that she must know a lot about organising and planning. I’m sure you can do it, Lila, but...” She paused. “You can handle it, right?” 

“Y— Yeah. Of course.” Lila stuttered. 

“You promised the class that you’d get BTS to perform for the year-end fundraiser since you were supposed to be in an arranged marriage with their youngest member, Jungkook.” Marinette continued, God I am enjoying myself too much honestly, but I ain’t going to stop now, “And you said you could convince your godfather, Bruce Wayne, to allow the class to go to Wayne Enterprises for this year’s class trip.” 

“She said she could convince Tony Hawk to give me an internship, too!” Alix chipped in. 

“And that she’d bring me along the next time Prince Ali asks for her help for a charity cause!” Rose smiled. 

“She said she’d introduce me to the CEO of Graham Films!” Nino’s eyes shone at the idea. 

The class continued to talk all over one another until Marinette silenced them once more. “Now, now. Let’s not overwhelm Lila. We wouldn’t want her to be overworked or to feel like the expectations are set too high, right?” 

The class agreed, nodding along. 

Marinette made eye contact with Lila, offering her a sweet smile as she did so. Lila, on the other hand, had no taste for such politeness. Instead, she straight-out glared at the former class president. 

This is your problem now. 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette! I was hoping to catch you before you went home,” Alya panted, having been able to find the bluenette in the locker room before the designer slipped out of her reach. “You... You’re really serious about leaving?” 

“Yeah.” Smiled Marinette, organising her textbooks into her bag, dusting down her skirt. Noticing Alya’s crestfallen expression, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. “Is there anything else, Alya?” 

“Did you... Did you really hate Lila because she liked Adrien, too?” The reporter asked somewhat timidly. 

Marinette giggled. Normally, when the girl giggled, you could hear a gentle tinkling of wind chimes— But at that moment, Alya heard the freezing winds on Mount Everest instead. “Don’t be silly, Alya. All this over a boy? Besides, I’m over him.” 

“Then...” Alya swallowed difficulty. “Lila... Really was lying this whole time?” 

The gaze that swept across the reporter was stone cold, and it made Alya feel as if she was dangling over a valley of jagged rocks. “What do you think, Alya?” Even so, the bluenette maintained a sweet smile. 

“She was. She was lying the whole time.” Alya suddenly felt as if she had a shortness of air. “This whole time—” 

“Oh, good for you. You finally learned how to see further than one feet in front of you.” Marinette hummed. “I’m proud of you, really. But I’m afraid that I don’t have the time to listen to you slowly come to conclusions after I’ve tried making you see sense for the past half a year. I tried to stop you from ruining your futures, but I guess determination was always one of your good traits.” 

Alya slipped to the floor, having lost the feeling in her legs. She placed one hand against the lockers for support as she shook, weakly looking up at the girl who she was once so proud to call her ‘best friend’. 

“Marinette?” Kagami’s voice rang through the room, indicating that the girl was waiting at the doorway. “You said you were heading to Bourgeois’s hotel after school— Would you like a ride?” 

“That’d be nice, Kagami. A moment.” The designer looked down at her friend and smiled, albeit a little sadly this time— And then she lowered her voice. 

“Determination was always one of your good traits.” 

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“Marinette,” Adrien perked up at the sight of the bluenette leaving the school doors— Side by side with Kagami, who looked ready to draw a sword and start a duel then and there. 

“This’ll just take a minute, ‘Gami.” Marinette reassured, gently patting her friend’s arm. “Why don’t you get in the car first? It looks like it’s going to rain.” 

Reluctantly, Kagami nodded. “Alright.” Warily, the fencer stepped down the stairs and into the car— But even as she sat in the vehicle, she watched over her fellow bluenette like a hawk, ready to jump out and challenge the blonde if the situation called for it. 

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say. Luckily for him, the designer decided to start the conversation. 

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Marinette smiled softly. A few months ago, when she looked at Adrien, she would see the kind, generous, pure-hearted boy with the finest golden hair and the brightest green eyes. Now? All she saw was a spineless, sheltered, passive child that was afraid of confrontations. 

“For what?” Adrien looked at Marinette, and no longer did he see the cute, pigtail-adorning girl that would blush fiercely everytime he tried to talk to her. Instead, he saw a beautiful, young woman, a rock that had pulled through all the odds to become a vibrant, iridescent diamond. 

Marinette was glowing with confidence, her presence diffusing into the air around her and triggering eyes to look up every time she walked by. There was something about the way she held herself that just made the woman demand awe and respect from those that crossed her path. The old ‘Clumsinette’ had been shed like an old snake skin to reveal a treasure, a better version of the bluenette that had always been waiting for her time to come. 

Bluebell eyes met green ones just as rain began to patter down onto the streets of Paris. Marinette glanced up slightly, not at all bothered as she smoothly retrieved an umbrella from her bag, holding it out for the blonde to take. A flush of deja vu burst through Adrien’s veins and through his skin as he took it with a mumbled thanks, eyes blown wide as Marinette let loose her hair from her ponytail, pulling her blazer over her head to avoid getting her head wet. 

Adrien could only gape as Marinette uttered familiar words back to him, a knowing smile dancing across her lips as she ran off into the rain as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The bluenette looked lighter, brighter, ready to take flight and soar towards the success that her crops of hard work had finally started to bear. Before the blonde model knew it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had slipped out of his grip, already spreading her multi-coloured wings to land among the stars. 

“Thank you for telling me to take the high road.”  

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

this was both satisfying and tiring to write... 

#ml salt #ml saltfic #saltfic #lila salt #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien salt #miraculous ladybug #alya salt #[ris writes]—✧

[eremiie]

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧!;

❥ 17k words | pure fluff | eren x reader

❥ eren’s birthday is in a couple days and what better way to celebrate it by hosting a party with your friends? only, you can’t help but feel a little stressed out and a litte nervous.

❥ authors note; don’t remind me that this is two days late, i know i know, i needed a break, but i hope you enjoy anyways >:)

4 days.

"connie, sasha! can you guys stop messing around for three seconds?"

connie and sasha turned around at the same time, your hand impatiently drummed against the counter as you gave them an irritated stare. your patience was growing thin as you wanted the outcome of this event to be perfect.

eren's birthday was a couple days away.

it wasn't always that you wanted to prepare events, as a matter of fact it stressed you out a little too much to do so. but, this was an event you wanted to take charge of— you wanted it to go perfect with the help of some of your closest friends.

you had met eren only the beginning of your first year in college— this year. it was the classic i need a roommate, so do you, so let's be roommates thing. it made things a little easier on you, bills were easier to pay, school was easier to get to, and eren brought more comfort to you.

he made you more social, introduced you to new friends, and became a role in your life.

sasha crossed her legs from her position on the floor, setting her arms on the table, clasping her fingers while she nodded her head hastily. "okay, i swear i'm listening now."

"sorry." connie murmured with a scratch of his head. he leaned forward on the coffee table, a look that said carry on staring at you as you stared at him.

you sighed, guilt creeping up on you for the harshness of your previous sentence. "...i didn't mean to sound aggressive, i'm sorry, i'm just kind of stressed." you rested your head on the palm of your hand as your eyes trailed over the sloppy notes scribbled on a piece of notebook paper armin tore for you.

the top of the paper was practically glaring at you "eren's birthday party!!!" slapped between the margins in led. you skimmed the notes, some of your friends name with a dash pointed to what they would handle in relation to the party. you gave the paper a grim look, as you almost couldn't read your own writing.

it couldn't go too wrong right? you felt as if eren was somewhat of a picky person but deep down you knew he'd love anything that his friends presented to him because of the sentiment and thought behind it. eren wasn't too difficult, so why were you stressing so much? you have a great group of friends beside you that were even willing to go through with this birthday party. what was bothering you?

"_____," armin's hand slid to your back, rubbing up and down in a comforting manner. he jolt you out of your thoughts, your head turning to the side to look at him.

a warm smile was on his face, blue eyes almost relaxing, almost putting you at ease. he removed his hand from your back and grabbed your hand that was in your lap, giving it a light squeeze. "you know, for one of eren's birthdays when he was a kid i made him a dirt cake and we sat outside and pretended to eat it." you couldn't help but giggle at the thought of a small eren and armin sitting in the grass playing with dirt. "he was happy enough to hang out with me and do that— he was also happy when mikasa embroidered him the letter E on a piece of cloth. he hung it on his backpack, i'm sure it's still back at his mom's house."

armin looked up to mikasa for confirmation and she nodded her head from behind him on the couch. she looked up to the ceiling, reminiscing on the small memory with a small smile as she fiddled with her fingers. "i'm sure eren would enjoy this just as much as a dirt cake."

"and a tiny E embroidery." mikasa added with a chuckle.

you let your hand smooth over the back of your neck and nodded. "yeah... yeah, he'll like it." you weren't sure if you were just saying that to reassure yourself or saying that because you meant it. either way, you picked up the mechanical pencil next to your elbow and began writing again.

"hitch," you repeated as you wrote down her name, your the end of your h flying as you lifted the pencil off of the paper.

hitch looked up at you from her phone. "what's up?"

"you know a lot of people." she looked up for a second tapping her chin, as if she was pondering.

"yeah... if i do say so myself, i'm a little popular." she shrugged her shoulders with a smirk and you rolled your eyes at her, the both of you letting out a small laugh.

"can you get the word out to some people you know eren knows?"

"who does eren know?"

"you know... besides us, maybe like..." you let your mind wander. eren wasn't the most social person but neither were you. in the least he was pretty known around campus, given his temper and his personality, not to mention his looks. he definitely got eyed around campus albeit only talking to a few people. you weren't surprised when someone waved hey to him while he was minding his own.

"i'm just messing, i'll figure out something." a light bulb went off in her brain, her eyes lighting up. "oh! i could even make a cute little digital flier to give them all the info— armin what's your address?" she had somewhat of a creative prowess that you were thankful for. always willing to help you with minor inconveniences whether it be your fashion choices, socializing with others, designing things, and much more.

armin began to tell her, his voice fading out as you looked towards sasha who now had her head laid down on the table, like you only moments ago. "sash," her eyes looked up to you and she picked herself up from the glass surface. "can you handle the cake and snack ideas?" you knew sasha would be the best bet for the food, especially considering she was currently taking a culinary arts program.

her eyes widened a bit, another haste nod of her head that made her hickory ponytail bounce with each up and down motion. "yeah, definitely! i have a friend that is really good at baking too, i could ask him for help on the cake."

you pointed the pencil in your hand towards sasha with a smile. "knew i could count on you, please spare enough for the party though."

she rolled her eyes hand reaching out to push your hand back down to the table. "shush, i was only gonna eat a couple bites of whatever we make— don't act like you've never treated yourself while cooking." you shook your head, looking back down to the paper and writing food and cake next to sasha's name hiding the small grin on your face. "caught!" she exclaimed, pointing at you with a snap of her fingers. "red handed!"

"oh, shush." you whipped your head behind you to look at jean who was sitting in between mikasa and hitch. "jean," and then to connie, next to sasha, his eyes low and his face straight— a clear look of boredom. "connie?"

the two boys answered with a small "hm?"

"can the three of us go for decorations like on..." you tapped the pencil in your hand to your chin. if eren's birthday was on the thirtieth, and you would be decorating on the twenty-ninth, you'd wanna get the decorations a little early on— better safe than sorry anyways. "twenty seventh or twenty eight?"

"decorations? this is gonna be fun." connie came more alive at the sound of decorations. with a  snicker, he rubbed his hands together like a classic villain in an old cliché movie.

"you guys are just coming with i'm not leaving y'all in charge of them. you'd fuck eren over."

"yeah? like how you wanna fu—" your hand slapped over connie's mouth faster than you could blink, connie's eyes going wide at the abrupt action and yours at the words that were beginning to spill over his lips. yes, you loved your friends but more often than not you couldn't stand them. sometimes you wondered if eren could've chose a better group of people to introduce you to. (in reality? you wouldn't trade them for the world.)

"no!" your response came out louder than you intended, the lot of your friends laughing. "can you not?" you turned back towards your paper, jotting down decorations beside jean and connie's names, your nose almost touching the white sheet with how close you were to it. the tingle of blood was flooding your cheeks and you took it upon yourself to take your time writing the date as well. "decorations, twenty eight."

"yes ma'am." jean replied clearing his throat with a small smirk on his face, glancing to connie before back to you. you sighed and rubbed your forehead.

"yes ma'am." connie repeated, small stifled chuckles trying to leave his quivering lips. you glared at him, and he tried not to smile, clearly dismissing how you were trying to kill him with a look.

armin spoke up, tapping your shoulder. "once you get the decorations stop by here, me and mikasa can help put them up the day of the party. you can come help too— make sure everything looks nice."

your attention was stolen, once again armin being the one who held it. "okay," decorating was already written next to mikasa and armin's names, but you marked the thirtieth next to it as well. "sasha, let's get the cake on the twenty-ninth so that it's closest to fresh as possible. i can come with right?"

"yeah, of course. i can pick you up that morning if you want me to."

that was perfect, you were practically beaming at the way everything was falling in place— everything felt as if it was falling in place, yes, but still your stomach flipped and your brain couldn't help but flood with the idea that something could go wrong.

you pushed the thoughts to the back of your brain and began to fold the paper in front of you neatly. "hitch, can i come over tomorrow? we can work on the digital fliers and figure out who to invite."

"sure, yeah, that's fine with me."

you pocketed the piece of paper and rose to your feet, pulling out your phone to check the time. you had been at armin and mikasa's place for four hours with your friends, and you had only been planning for a little bit— getting distracted was a hobby at this point. or maybe you were distracting yourself just because of the worry that the planning wouldn't go right.

"i'm gonna go," you stepped around the couch gingerly, avoiding the feet of your friends. "thank you guys."

armin followed your steps, standing up to trail after you. "i'll walk you to the door, the rest of them should be leaving soon too." he turned to the remainder, blonde brow rising over his eye. it wasn't a suggestion, you knew he'd be ushering them out the door soon enough.

"thank you, armin." not only thank you for a measly walk out the door, but a thanks to him helping you, keeping you at somewhat ease for the party. he was always so good to you— from helping you study when you needed it, talking to eren when he was upset with you. armin was always a shoulder to rely on, and you wouldn't have met him if it wasn't for eren. "thank you." you repeated under your breath as he opened the door for you.

the change in temperature as you stepped out the door felt better than it should have, the breeze hugged you tight, and you brought your hand to your chest as you stepped down the steps of armin's apartment.

you had a good set of friends on your shoulder, and a good plan in mind that you knew they'd help you with every step of the way. you breathed out through your nose and closed your eyes before turning back to the blonde, two calm oceans watching you with solicitude. "bye, armin." and another one of his warm smiles was thrown back to you as he waved and closed the door behind you.

when you returned to your apartment eren was asleep on the couch.

you moved as quietly as possible, shutting the door as quiet as you could muster. you slipped off your shoes and tiptoed over to the couch, every creak of the floor board felt like it could be heard no matter how quiet you thought you were being. although, when you peered down at eren's sleeping figure sprawled on the couch his eyes were still shut, he was still taken over by sleep.

even in his sleepy state his brows were still knit together, a small pout on his face as you listened to his slow breathing. his arm was supporting his head, the other one draped across his stomach and his hair wasn't in it's usual ponytail, hair messy and strewn about around his head and you almost wanted to let out a laugh at how cute he looked.

even though a bed probably would've been more comfortable, you didn't want to wake him. he looked pretty calm from where he was rested on the couch, eyes fluttering while they were still shut and lip twitching every now and then.

if you didn't know any better you would've bent down to place a kiss on his forehead, maybe the tip of his nose. or maybe you would've shook him awake and asked him to sleep beside you tonight. but you knew better and both of those options quickly dissolved from your mind before you could truly consider them.

instead, you took your time studying his pretty features until you felt like you studied long enough, almost surprised he didn't wake up, wondering why he felt like he was being watched. you spun on your heel and quietly creeped your way to your room, letting out a unsteady breath once you closed the door.

your back stayed pressed against the door as you looked at your feet. the chirp of an owl was almost too present, and if it wasn't for your thoughts you were sure you could've heard the television from your upstairs neighbor. you shook your head and face planted into your pillow, the bed bouncing up and down with the addition of your weight.

were you really worried about the birthday party? is that what was stressing you out?

the more you thought about it, the more it felt like a stupid party wasn't the sole root of your problems.

3 days.

you didn't even hear the sound of eren approaching you, too entranced with what was on your computer screen. when the rough pad of his finger tapped your shoulder you almost jumped out of your skin, your own finger moving quickly to switch tabs, your vision a blur and you not sure what you clicked before your head shot to face him. "eren!"

he put his hands up in mock surrender, glancing between you and your computer screen, intrigue in his green eyes. "what were you looking at?" of course that was the first thing he asked, that was just your luck.

you tapped your hands against the sides of your laptop, letting your gaze dart around the living room while eren waited a response that you were whipping up in your head. "a watch i'm gonna buy... for me."

"can i see it?" you almost rolled your eyes at how inconvenient that question was. your hand went to your mousepad, scrolling over to exit out of the tab, before looking back at eren. he narrowed his eyes as he literally watched you close out the tab in front of his face.

"no." your response was awkward— scratch that, the whole moment was awkward. "uh, what's up?" you shut your laptop as eren rounded the couch to come sit next to you. the weight of his body shifted you a bit, and his presence so close to you made you tense up slightly. his arm swinging over the back of the couch didn't help you either.

"didn't see you at all yesterday. when i woke up i checked your room and you were sleep." he checked on you? your heart practically skipped a beat at the simple sentence. you saw him almost everyday and have lived with him for almost a year now— why did he rack your nerves so much?

"yeah... i knocked out when i got home, but you were sleep when i got back anyways."

"where were you for so long?" genuine curiosity was present in his voice. "i was pretty bored here by myself, you know." his head tilted back to rest against the couch, his eyes still looking down at you as he let out an exaggerated breath.

you gave eren an uneven smile and crossed your arms. "with armin," you almost did a double take when eren's smile dropped.

"you left me to go to armin's house?"

"...i didn't think you wanted to come!" your voice came off defensive, and you quickly lowered it the nearer your sentence came to an end.

eren squinted his eyes at you, if looks could talk his would be calling you an idiot. he brought his head off the couch and leaned forward. any closer and he would be able to hear your heart thrumming in your chest. "you didn't think i wanted to come to armin and mikasa's house... you know, my childhood friends?"

when eren repeated your words back to you they did sound pretty dumb. you frowned, not sure if you were frowning at the boy in front of you or the stupidity of your sentence. your words tangled in your throat as they tried to form, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. eren leaned back, and you felt yourself gain control again, your heart quieting. "it was a last minute thing, i had to go to grab some notes from him and we got carried away."

"you and armin don—"

"mikasa! grab some notes from mikasa. calculus... calculus notes."

almost on cue, your phone buzzed from between the couch cushion beside you and your hand fumbled to find it, pulling it up once your phone was in between your fingers. you turned your phone up right, the blue light shining on your face as you read the small segment of the message hitch sent you. your finger swiped and your thumb unlocked your phone as you read the remainder of the text.

march 27th, 2:53pm

⤷ finished studying. you can be on your way!!!

⤷ i'll be omw in like 10

you looked back up to eren, his eyes already rested on your face. when you stood up from the couch, he still watched you as you maneuvered around the small space of the apartment clumsily. "i'm gonna be on my way to hitch's." you told him, grabbing your keys from the kitchen table and slipping on your crocs that were under it.

"you didn't have enough fun with armin yesterday?" when your head turned to look at him, his was giving you a bored stare, head hanging backwards over the couch, the flyaways around his face pointing towards the ground.

you stiffened at his statement, but nevertheless continued to move, your jacket coming over your arms and your phone slipping into the pocket of your sweats. "grabbing notes isn't fun, i won't be at hitch's for long either. you'll probably be home when i get back."

he pushed off the couch, taking long strides towards you with his hands buried in his own pockets. when he was but a few feet away, he stopped, and your eyes washed over his body. black t-shirt clinging to his skin and the band of his boxers playing peek-a-boo from where they sat a little above his sweatpants. when you snapped out of your thoughts and looked up the door was being held open for you, eren trying to suppress his small smile. "nope, probably gonna go hang out with someone."

"who?"

"you don't know her."

"oh..." you tucked your lip in between your teeth and opened the door wider for yourself. "okay, see you." and when the door shut behind you it somewhat startled you, and the walk to your car felt a little longer than usual.

the drive to campus felt a little longer than usual too.

when you did arrive the walk to her dorm was like expected, you made your way through the hallways, up the steps until you were standing in front of her dorm. your hand rapped her door a few times, a "hold on!" being yelled out to you once you stopped.

typical, the sound of rustling was coming from the other side and you heard her footsteps come closer until the door swung open. "here, here." she huffed out, opening up the door more so you could slip past her and into her room.

right off the bat you knew which side was hers— not that it wasn't your first time, just that she made it painfully obvious.

her clothes were scattered across the floor, and it was almost as if an invisible line was dividing her and her roommates side. a stack of papers and books on top of her desk, light from the lamp behind it struggling to shine through the stack. the other side of the desk looking pristine and neat— if you swiped your finger over top there wouldn't be a trace of dust. posters adorned above her bed as well as a small tapestry. "i see you tried to clean up before i got here."

"something like that," she waved you off, shutting the door behind her and rushing over to her bed to throw a couple pillows down then hopping up on it, patting the space beside her. "you know, i got some of the information down for the flier, i made it look pretty and shit last night i just need you to tell me a few more things."

you slipped off your shoes and hopped onto her bed as well, scooting back and pulling your knees to your chest as she scrolled through her phone.

"look," the device was shoved in your face, making you blink a few times as you waited for the screen to steady, a sage green flier with many small words looking back at you.

your hand wrapped around the phone, and hitch let go to watch your face. "you like?"

"happy birthday eren!" was big and bold dark green lettering, the title for the flier, while an old picture of eren sat to the side that made you let out a snort. beside it was the date and time for the event, as well as armin's address spanning across the middle of the flier from one end of it to the other. your eyes went back to the photo, but before you could get a good look at it hitch abruptly grabbed the phone back. "you don't like it?" a frown was on her face, and she inspected the image on her phone. "different color? is that what it is?"

you pursed your lips and leaned back against her wall. "i didn't say that— and the color is fine..." you stared at your knees as you remembered one of the first times you went into eren's room while he was sick. a tattered dark green cover was draped over his body and when you had pushed him about the condition of the cover— frayed ends and a few small holes here and there, he had told you it was an old gift from his mom and that he liked the color.

"hey," when you looked back up to hitch she wasn't to your side anymore, instead seated criss cross in front of you, hands in her lap and her phone discarded to her side. "what's up?"

you gave her a questioning glance before fiddling with your fingers that were propped up on your knees. there was nothing up with you— could you not do a little thinking? "nothing?"

"girl, please," she looked to her phone, it isolated on top of her sheets the green flier being the centerpiece of the screen. her fingers went to press the power button until the device went black, and your eyes couldn't be on it anymore, forced to give your attention to hitch. "is it about eren? you seemed to really like the picture of him on my phone, even though i stole that from our high school yearbook. he looks off with short hair doesn't he?"

come on— you couldn't possibly get any more predictable than this. "i was just thinking about his favorite color." which wasn't a lie, you were, your thinking just happened to go deeper than just his favorite color.

"you cannot lie to save your life..." hitch threw her head back as she began to laugh at you, her short hair bobbing on her shoulders as her hand came up to cover her mouth while her laughs died down. "favorite color my ass. what is up for real?" hitch knew you liked eren, they practically all did... except for eren himself.

your head fell into the space created between your knees and chest, and you groaned. "i don't even know myself. he just, he just—" a sound of frustration left your mouth, but was muffled by your legs. "i want this to go well for him." you picked your head up, but you weren't satisfied with your answer. by the way hitch looked at you, you could tell she wasn't either.

"keep going, i'm still listening." hitch's head nodded slowly, a reassuring nod— telling you it was okay to keep speaking, her ears were open to hear you out.

"i want this party to go well for him, of course i do; but after today i feel so dumb for putting so much time into it. maybe i'm overthinking it but i told eren i hung out with armin and he told me he was going to hang out with some girl i didn't know, and it just... i guess rubbed me wrong— so now i feel like i'm putting all my time into this for him and it'll kind of just mean nothing, all my time into planning this party that i feel like is stupid. i feel stupid."

it was like a dam broke, your words had flooded out, and you had said more than you wanted to, yet it still wasn't enough. hitch was satisfied— but you? you were not.

she grabbed some of your hair, pulling your head up by it. surprise danced across her features, surprised to see you weren't weeping, albeit your voice sounding shaky when you spoke. "i haven't seen eren pull anybody ever since we were in high school together, i doubt he all of a sudden has a girl or whatever." she gave you a half smile, hands coming up to grab yours, and your legs slid down into a criss cross position as well.

"plus the party isn't stupid and you're not stupid. it's not about how you feel about eren, it's about giving him and us a good time for his birthday. did you forget that it's for his birthday? shit, if you don't wanna plan it, i will— admissions gonna equal a bottle of booze." her chuckle was contagious and your lips couldn't help but upturn as you let one out too.

"listen, whenever i have a crush on someone i just go for it, you know? just tell him. maybe he was just trying to get you jealous or something." she shrugged her shoulders, while she played with your hands that were enveloped in hers.

"we live together, i don't wanna make it weird."

'it'll only be weird if he says no."

"which is a big possibility."

hitch glanced off to the side before letting her eyes settle on you again, her lips shifting as she looked for what to say. "um... but he could say yes too. you won't know if you don't ask. if you're not willing to move forward and take the risk you don't like him that much. if he says no eventually the two of you will go back to normal anyways." you did like him that much, you were just an anxious mess. especially when he was around; which was quite ironic considering you spent most of your time around him.

you let hitch's words sink into your flesh as you stared at her thumb smoothing over the soft skin of your hand. she wasn't totally wrong, you wouldn't know unless you asked, and nothing would really happen until you asked either.

"do what you will with that information." hitch cleared her throat, letting go of your hands and shuffling to sit beside you, grabbing her phone on the way, then turning around to sit her back against the wall as well. a thick silence fell over the two of you, and if it wasn't for how close both of you were it would've been awkward— for you, it was you and your thoughts talking, but for hitch?

"so... who are we inviting again?"

2 days.

"what do you think of these?" you flipped over the packet of balloons examining the details scribbled on the back, waiting for a response— but to no avail. you didn't receive one.

you turned around, expecting to see a nest of ash brown hair hovering over you as well as doe hazel eyes, but jean and connie were nowhere to be found. a groan of annoyance left your lips and you slipped the packet of balloons into the shopping basket that was hooked around your arm. "i guess these will do."

today felt slow, no progress felt like it was made albeit you running around a family dollar looking for simple birthday decorations, while your friends ran around looking for only God knows what.

you weren't sure if it was because this task was somewhat easy, or maybe because in a couple hours you'd be returning to your shared apartment with eren, continuing to sneak around as if you weren't planning an event. continuing to have to ignore his questions when you'd come in a little later than you usually do, because if you had said you were hanging out with one of your mutual friends he'd look at you funny— ask why you didn't take him with you.

he wasn't wrong, his friends were his friends before they were yours; he is the one who introduced you to them, you all of a sudden devising your own plans with them and seemingly having the time of your lives while he sat back at home of course rubbed him weird.

he didn't question you too much though.

he knew his birthday was coming up— he might be dense but he wasn't completely stupid. although he had no direct hint to you planning anything for him, his friends planning anything for him, the lack of mention of his birthday being soon was almost alarming. he hoped your running around without him had at least a little to do with his birthday.

and for that you thanked him, because besides your little crush on him, the whole mess surrounding his birthday made your stomach churn, having to keep something from him for so long racked your nerves and made it even harder to be around him just in case something accidentally slipped.

you dragged your feet to the isle next to you, peering down it to see the two boys you were looking for, jean and connie. you noticed them before they noticed you, connie's hands grabbing at something and throwing it in the basket in jean's hands. "guys," you said loud enough for them to hear, both of their heads whipping to look to you.

both of them slowly made their way towards you until you met in the middle of the aisle, your arm crossed and your lips pursed. "looking for decorations was fun by myself." your tone was sarcastic, and connie caught on nose scrunching at your comment, his hand coming out to pat your shoulder.

"listen, listen— i was getting eren's birthday present!" he replied, giving you a crooked smile.

your eyes darted between connie, jean and the small basket in his hands, dumbfounded. were you missing something? you didn't see a "birthday present" anywhere. you glanced back up to connie, confusion littered on your face. "where?"

connie's smile dropped, quickly turning into a frown and jean let out a short chuckle, connie glaring at him. he pointed towards the basket, then grabbing it and tilting it towards you. "snacks, and candy and shit. who doesn't like snacks?"

you looked into the basket, and inside was an arrangement of snacks— none that you could remember eren eating, maybe besides the flimsy bag of potato chips and sour gummy worms. "it's the thought that counts." you mumbled mostly to yourself, but both the boys in front of you heard, connie rolling his eyes and letting go of the basket.

it was ironic, because if it was just the thought that counted to you maybe you wouldn't be stressing so much over the party you were in the midst of planning. you wish you could take your own advice, and maybe be like connie and do something simple for eren without beating yourself up too much.

"shut up— we need to get a bag for it." connie mutters, but you knew he wasn't genuinely upset, he could care less what you thought of his present. if it was something he enjoyed it was most likely eren would enjoy it too. at least that's what he told himself.

"we need to get everything else for the party too— you guys left me when i was looking for balloons." your hands flew out from your sides, clearly exasperated with their lack of care for stranding in you in the isle over without a word.

"we didn't leave you, we just went an aisle over to get his gift."

"so you left me?" connie's eyes slide over to jean, who walked past the two of you, clearly trying to leave the store as soon as possible, or maybe dissociate himself from the small ruckus you were creating in the middle of the store.

"technically, no..." he murmured, walking past you as well, and you brought your hand to your forehead before speeding up your pace to catch up to jean, walking beside him instead of behind with connie.

the three of you walked in silence until you reached the decorations aisle, fingers brushing over the arrangement of decor, but you were mainly focused on the miscellaneous decorations, party streamers, tissues, table covers, and much more you couldn't name.

"jean?" he looked down at you, standing next to your figure who was crouched on the floor to be head on with the decorations seated on the small bottom shelf.

"what's up?"

you picked up two packs of table covers, in each of your hands, standing up and examining both packages, the only difference being the colors. "which one?"

jean took the white pack from your hands, turning it over then grabbing the dark green pack from your hands and looking it over as well. "they're both nice to me." he shrugged. he didn't see why the color of the table covers, or any decoration mattered so much. like you he knew eren wasn't too picky, yet you still continued to try to perfect every aspect of this party.

"well, which one do you think eren would like?"

jean furrowed his eyebrows at you, dropping both packages into the basket in your hands opposed to his— although he was helping with the party he wouldn't be paying for anything he didn't need to. "eren wouldn't care, _____."

you sighed, eyes drifting down to the new contents of your basket. "yeah, but—"

"just get both, and decide when we go there, he'll like either."

you fiddled with your hands, nodding your head and walking past jean to the party streamers— you didn't ask for his opinion, reckoning you'd get the same answer, so you slipped both the white streamer paper and dark green into your basket, making your way towards connie who was plucking a small paper bag from the rack.

"i'm gonna put it in this bag." connie said as soon as you had stopped in front of him, shoving the bag in your face, your hands coming up to lower it so you could see it more clearly. it was nice, a small blue bag with "happy birthday" sprawled on the front, in sparkly letters, and you smiled at connie who pulled it away from you.

"that's nice, i should get a bag too for his present shouldn't i?"

"well you're not putting it in a box are you?" you shook your head, it'd be better to put it in a little birthday bag then having to spend time wrapping it, so you stood in connie's place who moved aside to let you take a look at the arrangement of bags.

there were so many, but a pretty white one caught your eye, it was simple, happy birthday written in small text on the front in black, a period ending the short statement. the paper bag had two black ribbon handles that were rough to the touch when you had pulled it off its rack. "this is nice too, right?"

connie looked to the bag in your hand, nodding his head. of course he'd think it's nice, he wasn't like you— it made no difference from the bag in his hand. they were both made out of paper and both could complete the same job. you wished to have that mindset. "yeah, what did you get eren for his birthday?"

your eyes widened slightly, you were somewhat surprised he asked— or maybe surprised that he was the first to ask. you took pride in the gift you had bought him when others asked or when you had explained what it was to mikasa, but when it came to eren you were a little nervous to know if he'd like it or not. "just this custom watch, i thought it would be thoughtful."

jean came up behind connie, connie placing his bag into jean's basket. "yeah, i think he'd like it, i mean— i don't wear watches but i'd wear it once or twice."

you narrowed your eyes, scoffing at connie. "well good thing the watch isn't for you, let's go." connie shrugged his shoulders, and you went to grab paper plates and cups, even party hats just for the gag of it, soon enough making your way to the check out and buying all the supplies. your total was higher than you expected, and you blamed your indecisiveness, yet you would still buy whatever was needed for the party at hand.

the three of you loaded into jean's car, you placing the bags beside you and your phone buzzing. you pulled it out of your pocket to check the notification, a message from eren. you swiped left, having to swipe a couple times because of how fast you attempted to open the message. it was rare he texted you when you were out, especially when he knew you were out.

march 28th, 4:47pm

⤷ [attachment 1 image]

⤷  your package? where do you want me to leave it?

you knew right off the bat what it was, the watch you had just told connie about. when you had last checked the shipping date it wasn't scheduled to come today— it was one day early.

march 28th, 4:48pm

⤷ put it in my room, thanks

⤷ okay

you had dropped your phone into your lap, looking out to the window but it buzzed again, and you scrambled to pick it up once more.

march 28th, 4:53pm

⤷ wya?

⤷ in the car, i'll be home soon.

"can you guys take me home first, actually? we can take the stuff to armin's house the day before eren's party." you leaned forward so jean who was driving, could hear you, his head turning slightly as he listened.

"why?" your phone buzzed again, and just like that you forgot about the conversation at hand, diving to pick up your phone, eager to see what eren had sent now.

march 28th, 4:55pm

⤷ your car is here

⤷ oh, you're with who?

⤷ jean and connie

"i just want to go home for now, it'd be easier if we just brought everything over there when we go decorate." and even though jean disagreed, he began the route to your place instead, deciding not push any further.

although your phone didn't alert you that you got another notification, you went to go check anyways, grasping the device in your hand as you went back to you and eren's messages.

read, 4:55pm

you didn't even realize the small frown that was painted on your face, you placing your phone back into the pocket of your jacket, settling down into the seat you were sat on.

"yeah, take me home first."

1 day.

"how's this?" sasha tilted the bowl of frosting towards you, and you took a glance, the frosting a pretty shade of green, much like the flier hitch showed you two days before.

you nodded your head, "yeah, that color works.", and your friend smiled, spinning on her foot to place down the bowl of frosting beside the one of icing. she seemed more excited then you about the making of the cake. not to say you weren't excited, but it was more accurate to say you were highly strung about how it would turn out— more than you should have been.

"nico, grab the cake, i think it's chilled long enough." she dipped her finger into the bowl of frosting, putting it up to her lips and humming at the taste. "oh, yeah, that's good. eren better like this!" and you hoped he would too.

you tsked, grabbing the bowl and moving it over so niccollo could place the cake on the counter next to it. "what design are you thinking?" he asked, arm draping over sasha's shoulder as the two of them stood in front of you. although they didn't date you couldn't help but find them cute. you wondered if sasha or niccollo were in the same dilemma as you— only it seemed that their feelings were reciprocated opposed to you and eren.

you pondered for a second, recalling what you had thought up a couple nights ago. it was simple, "pipe the edges with one of those swirly tips, with the white icing, and.. write happy birthday in the middle. small letters." the small letters were somewhat of an improvisation, it reminded you of the small letters on the front of the gift bag you had got for eren.

as you spoke, sasha moved to grab the pipe tips and piping bags, as well as a spatula, placing the utensils down onto the surface next to the frosting. "i can see that in my head— it's gonna be so good, it's gonna look so good." she glanced up at niccollo, and he was already looking at her, a small smile on his face. "can i frost?"

"...you can frost with the green, i'll do the white; the piping and the words."

sasha beamed, clearly happy with whatever she could get, and she grabbed the spatula, scooping up some frosting and beginning to spread it across the cake. she smoothed the thick coat over the swirl cake, trying her best to cover the top, and you could already envision what it would look like in your head, and it wasn't bad. sasha wouldn't dare for it to look bad with how ecstatic she was to be making it, and you were sure niccollo wouldn't either.

it was mainly your idea, and niccollo and sasha would bring it to life. you would hope eren would like it as much as how much you liked the image of it in your head. "so what did you guys buy for snacks?"

niccollo made his way over to the sink, washing his hands before flinging them so water droplets flew in the sink. "well we bought the basic stuff, chips for the guac, candy for the bowls, and some drinks, plus beer at your friend hitch's request."

you laughed, hitch wouldn't be the only one enjoying it, the lot of you guys liked to drink. you knew eren would be appreciative at the gesture. "it probably wasn't just hitch who wanted it." you watched the blonde dry his hands, leaning against the sink counter. "so you're gonna make the guac, the guac for the chips?"

he nodded his head. "oh, yeah of course. i just can't make it today, i'll make it at... armin, armin's house?" his response was a question, and you nodded as well, letting him know he was thinking of the right person. "yeah, sash will get the stuff and i'll make it that day so it can be fresh."

"okay, that's good. are you gonna come to the party too?" you didn't know him personally, only having met him through sasha who you didn't know how she met him. she had seemed to have taken a liking to him, and you just followed through. after all like you said, they were cute, you wouldn't be surprised when sasha would break the news to you.

"no, i have work that day... i'll be there beforehand to help sasha and you, and everyone set up, if it helps."

"no, yeah— it'd be a lot of help." you gave him a small smile, sliding over more towards sasha to check on the cake. "so, out of curiosity; how did the two of you meet?"

sasha grinned at the question, grabbing some more frosting with the spatula and slapping it onto the side of the cake. she didn't give niccollo time to answer, mouth opening to do so for him. "culinary class! he's so fucking good at cooking, like how?" she tilted her head back to direct the grin on her face at him, and he gave her one back.

"yeah, sasha's not too bad herself either. how did you and sasha meet?" his words sounded like an understatement and you chuckled.

but you and sasha meeting? it wasn't much of a story to tell. "oh, just through eren at the beginning of last semester."

"eren? the birthday boy?"

"yeah, birthday boy... he introduced me to all of them really, nothing special." you shifted on your feet, hands coming together so you could play with your nails, looking down at your hands.

"tell me about you and birthday boy— how did the two of you meet?" you didn't know someone could ask so many questions, but it wasn't like you didn't ignite the conversation to save from the silence.

sasha's shoulders bounced as she laughed softly, and although you couldn't see her, her still smoothing away at the almost completely green cake, you glared at her.

"he's my roommate. i needed one and he needed one, and you know how that goes."

niccollo raised a brow. he clearly caught onto the way you tried to brush the topic off too fast, but so did sasha despite her being occupied. wasn't he majoring in culinary arts? not psychology— there was no reason for him to read you that fast. "and how does that go, _____?" sasha titters and you could tell she was smiling from the tone of her voice.

"fine." you were blunt, your voice montone apart from the small falter at the end of your sentence. "it's cool, having a roommate, he's nice and fun to have around."

sasha's expression mimicked niccollo's, her arms crossing and her brow going up before she walked over to the sink and began to wash the spatula, the water somewhat saving you from the awkward silence, the same one you had tried to stop earlier. sasha broke it though, and in the worst way she could.

"she likes him."

your hand slapped your forehead, and you let out an exasperated groan, both sasha and niccollo laughing at you, but sasha must've felt somewhat bad, a pout on her face as she came over to pull you into a tight hug. "sorry, but you weren't gonna say it and it's kind of obvious."

"well you didn't have to say it out loud." you didn't hug her back, one hand sliding down your face, and the other hanging at your side.

"well how else would nico know?"

"he doesn't."

nicollo took over sasha's place at the counter, not phased by your reluctance to tell him. he tidied up her small mistakes when she was frosting the cake. "sash, can you fill the piping bags?" sasha pranced over to the piping bags after letting go of you and her hands grabbed them, placing the tip on the bags and then rummaging the drawer for a spare spatula, using it to scoop up some of the the white icing and stuff it into the utensil. "so you like him?"

you sighed. she didn't have to repeat it, but still you nodded your head, and then realizing he couldn't see you. "...yeah."

"she won't tell him though." sasha added, dipping another finger into the icing and sucking it off her finger once more. did she have to reveal everything? "i don't see why, if it was me i'd just tell him, what's the worst that could happen."

your eyes glanced between sasha and niccollo.

that was ironic.

"just tell him, who knows, he could like you back." the conversation sounded too familiar, and you rolled your eyes, why did everyone think this was such an easy feat? niccollo leaned towards the cake, icing squeezing out of the pipe creating an intricate swirl that was being detailed around the circumference of the cake.

you folded your arms against the counter you were leaning against, and let out a huff of breath. "it's not that easy. we're roommates, things will be awkward." and you felt like you were repeating yourself— is this what people called deja vu?

"i think eren might like her back." sasha moved the bowl of white icing onto the other side of niccollo and hopped onto the counter beside him, placing the other bowl in her lap, fingers tapping against the sides.

"why?" you were curious, you didn't think anything hinted that he could like you, especially not with the encounter you had with him when you were leaving for hitch's.

"i don't know," she shrugged. "when you guys first moved in together he would always talk about his," she mimicked his voice, "new roommate."

you blinked, then blinked again, arms unfolding and you picking yourself up from the surface you were leaning against. eren talking about you? you wanted to hear more. "that's it?"

another shrug, and another scoop of frosting. "i mean, he talks about you in general too."

"what does he say?"

sasha squinted at you, shaking her head. "i said in general," and her hands went up into quotations, "me and ______ are going to do this, last night me and ______ did this, shit like that."

your stomach twisted, and your legs felt a little wobbly. you cleared your throat, and you wanted to speak but you were a little bit in... shock? but niccollo spoke instead, "i finished."

sasha made a small noise of joy, hopping off the counter she was seated on and pushing over the bowl of frosting, peeking around niccollo to see the cake.

you padded over, standing next to sasha to see the cake as well; and it was pretty.

swirls danced across the edge of the cake, the white contrasting the soft green that was painted over the it and smoothed over almost perfectly. in simple bold letters, "happy birthday, eren." detailed the center, a small heart added to the end.

"it's nice... i really like it, yeah, this is what it looked like in my head." and you weren't lying, it almost was like a carbon copy of what you envisioned, and you were almost surprised at how well niccollo and sasha pulled it off, not that you should be, you did ask for help of two culinary art students. "thank you, thanks so much."

your face was lit up, and sasha and niccollo gleamed smiles at you, delighted that you were happy. being able to make you happy seemed to be enough for them. "glad you like it," he said, and you pulled out your phone to snap a quick picture, pressing the device to your chest. "i added the heart for you."

your eyes rolled back but you couldn't help but chuckle, another "thank you" leaving your lips and your eyes not leaving the cake, even when he went to put it in the refrigerator. once the cake wasn't in your line of sight anymore, that nervous feeling returned out of nowhere, for no reason, and your hands felt sweaty, phone almost slipping from where it was pressed between your chest and hand.

sasha caught on, grabbing your other hand and letting her fingers fall between yours, hands clasped together, and she was radiating solace, sucking up your worries and dispelling them for you.

"he'll like it."

"you sure?"

"of course! i'm sure."

happy birthday, eren.

it wasn't a normal occurrence for you to cook eren breakfast— as a matter of fact you couldn't recall ever cooking breakfast for him.

making dinner? yeah! there were plenty of times the two of you twirled around the kitchen, bodies bumping and fits of giggles bouncing around the small space, while you muttered "sorry!" to each other every now and then.

for now, it was just you.

eren hadn't woken up yet, and so to do him a birthday favor you decided to make him a birthday meal.

you flipped the pancakes cooking on the stove, sauntering over to the fridge and pulling out the package of bacon and plopping in onto the top of the counter. you felt like you had been in the kitchen at least every day now, and you couldn't remember the last time you had actually sat down to participate in one of your hobbies, or to relax. you sure were taking this upcoming event seriously, and you were glad your friend were too.

your fingers tapped against the steel of the fridge handle as your eyes skimmed the contents of the refrigerator; you felt like it wasn't enough, there was nothing special to you about some flimsy pancakes and bacon, so you grasped the carton of eggs and closed one of the fridge doors, leaning towards the side to plop them next to the bacon.

when you turned back around to close the other door, there eren stood, you practically jolting out your skin. "jesus!" you all but screamed, your hand flying to your chest and you stumbling backwards at his abrupt appearance. "eren!"

he chuckled, closing the fridge door for you and stepping forward to stand in its place. "g'morning." his voice was still groggy with sleep, and he still looked sleepy— his eyes still swollen from it, hair messily framing his face. his hair tie must've fell out while he tossed and turned.

your hand fell from your chest and dropped down to your side, tugging your shirt lower and fumbling with the fabric while your eyes glanced around the small kitchen. "morning."

"just morning? aren't you forgetting something?" you gave him a crooked smile, and he stepped forward until his hands wrapped around your shoulders, pulling your frame against his until you were engaged in a hug, minus the fact that your arms were still awkwardly against your sides.

your body began heating up and you felt like you lost control of yourself for a minute, hands taking a bit too long to wrap around eren as well. it was nice, he felt warm, and he brang a sense of comfort, so you relaxed against him a little more. heck, you didn't need time to sit down and relax or do a hobby when you had eren. he was enough to give you a break, just being around him was enough.

"happy birthday." your voice was merely above a whisper, but he heard it— a hum that could be heard through his chest, where your head laid.

"thank you," he said audibly, pulling you away, and you wished the hug could last for a little longer, hesitantly pulling back too and letting your hands smooth over the sudden goosebumps on your arms from the air of the room. "your pancake."

you quirked a brow at him, until your eyes followed his finger, the pancake on the stove that had been there longer than it should have, and you scrambled over in realization, eyes going wide as you fumbled for the spatula, slipping it under the pancake and flipping it over to check the underside. it wasn't burnt— the underside was just a little browner than it should have been. your free hand brought the plate next to the stove closer and slipped the pancake off the pan onto the plate.

"what woke you up?" you asked, as your hands went to grab the bacon and an extra bowl, turning down the heat of the stove and moving to strip the bacon from its packet, setting them down on the pan.

"the smell of your cooking." he smiled, arms crossed from where he leaned against the fridge. he slinked over, until he was behind you, peering down as you placed the last strip of bacon on the steel pan. "who's the breakfast for? me?"

you let out a small laugh, cracking two eggs in a bowl and eren followed along as you moved to the counter, then to the spice rack, grabbing two small spice jars and sliding back to your bowl. "yeah, actually. it's your birthday, right?"

"yeah." he moved over to the fridge, grabbing the bag of cheese and throwing it down onto the counter you were working at. "i like cheese in my eggs." you shook your head but your hands still moved to grab the bag, fingers pulling the seal open and your hand dipping into the bag to sprinkle some into eren's eggs. it was his day after all.

you didn't even realize he had moved from behind you until you heard the sizzle of the bacon on the pan, his hand setting down the spatula, and only then did you realize he had flipped them for you— his head turning towards you to watch you make the eggs, you whisking at the mixture. "thank you." you said softly, eyes lingering on his curious expression before turning back to the eggs. "anything you doing for your birthday?"

it was funny, how you asked that as if you and his friends didn't plan out a whole event for him alone.

he shook his head, as you expected and you couldn't help but let a smile creep on your face as you walked over to the stove, checking on the bacon, and eren taking your spot near the eggs. he slowly began whisking at the mixture despite them already being mixed. it was a domestic feeling, one that you felt before yet it still felt fresh, still felt new and it still made you want to live in moments like these forever.

"nah, you wanna do something with me?"

your lip twitches, and you place the bacon next to the stack of pancakes. the oil drifts to the side as you lean the pan and simply stare for a few minutes, before going to the sink and dumping it. you wiped the side of the pan and spread oil onto it before placing the bottle of oil down and reaching your hand out for eren to pass you the eggs.

he does, his fingertips sliding over yours as he passes it along, and you pour it into the pan, then turning to drop the bowl in the sink. "omelette or scrambled? and you wanna go to armin's later today?"

he scoffed, fingers drumming on the now empty counter he was leaning against, like he was in disbelief that you wanted to go there again; and it seemed that way from his next sentence, him practically bringing your thoughts to life. "scrambled, and you wanna go there again, you've been there like twice this week? what's at armin's?"

the spatula flipped in your hand, and you frowned at eren. "nothing, we should just go there for a get together— it's your birthday after all." your gaze shifted to the plate of food. "can you get another plate for me?"

although eren didn't answer, the sound of plates clinking as he reached for another plate, and the closing of a cabinet told you he complied. he placed it beside the other plate, sliding two pancakes onto it, including the almost burnt one. "two pancakes on your plate?"

and you nodded your head, "no bacon." you scraped some of the eggs onto eren's plate and scraped the remainder onto yours— you weren't too hungry, but you wanted to eat with him, so you made yourself a little too. "so can we go?"

eren's eyes followed you to the sink, where you placed the pan down, the steam rising from the water hitting the hot pan much like the steam rising from the eggs. you came back over beside him, hand patting his side lightly to signal him to move over a little so you could open the utensils drawer. his answer was reluctant, but you didn't think it was necessarily because he didn't want to go— you weren't sure what it was. "i guess, what time?"

you grabbed two forks and two spoons, placing them onto each plate and clasping your hands together, in content at not only the two full plates (if you'd consider yours full), but also at the confirmation from eren next to you. "like... seven? i'm gonna leave earlier though... i have some errands to do."

eren raised a brow, but shook you off, as if he just accepted you running around the usual now. he grabbed his plate and you grabbed the syrup before following behind him until both of you were sat at the dining room table. he couldn't help but still question where you were going though. "what errands?"

you repressed yourself from rolling your eyes, sliding the syrup across the glass table until eren's hands were wrapped around it, popping the top open and drizzling the sticky liquid over his pancakes. "i'm just gonna run to the store real quick, we'll meet up at armin's place."

eren once again didn't respond, pushing the syrup back towards you and poking at his pancake.

with a small sigh you slipped your phone out of your pocket and unlocked it, pressing a few buttons until you and armin's messages were open. your fingers danced around the screen until you began typing.

march 29th, 12:34pm

⤷ i might have to come a little later than i wanted to, spend some time with eren

⤷ ok, i'll text them to come earlier!

⤷ tysm, i'll probably come around 5

you placed your phone down on the table face down. you were somewhat surprised by armin's response time, but you were grateful nonetheless. you'd spend a little more time with eren, it wasn't a big of a deal, not even the small feeling of nervousness that came back was a big deal. with how well everything was going you were sure they could deal without your for a few extra hours.

when you looked up, eren's palm was holding his head up, as his other hand cut the pancake in front of him, a small pout on his face. you almost felt bad, if in the back of your head the surprise party didn't linger you probably would have felt bad. you gave a weak smile, and tapped the glass table to catch eren's attention. "eren,"

"hm?"

"happy birthday."

a few hours.

a few hours until eren's party, a few more hours of planning, few more hours of jittery feelings and sneaking around eren.

maybe a few more hours of questions, questions from eren, questions from your friends, questions for your friends.

"armin, pass me that last streamer."

armin took one of the white streamers from the table next to you, placing tape on the tip and you stepped down from the chair you were standing on to grab it. once you taped it your hand swam through all the streamers that were adorning the wall. they had came down from the ceiling, connected to the wall and then came down like a waterfall, a jade green, light green and white patterned across the wall.

"does it look good?" you asked armin, and his hands went to touch the streamers as well while he nod, surprised at how well you pulled off the design. hitch didn't seem to be the only creative one in the friend group.

"of course, of course, it looks really nice, it's creative too."

as you were about to respond, the pop of a balloon made you and armin flinch, both of your necks snapping towards the sound, connie and sasha both standing their frozen, the remnants of a balloon in connie's hand, sasha holding back her laughs.

stepping down from the chair, you sighed, and armin pat your shoulder. "i'll go help them with the balloons, don't worry." he stepped away, heading towards the living room to do just as he said.

you made your way towards the kitchen, deciding to check on the progress in there, mikasa cutting up tomatoes for the guac that niccollo was preparing, her hands moving flawlessly as she chopped away. "want to help?" she asked, not even looking up to see who walked in.

you had nothing better to do, everyone occupied with one or more aspects of the decrorating, so you said a "yeah," and she dropped the knife, placing another tomato down and grabbing an onion and another knife to begin chopping beside you. "how is it going out there?"

"out there" wasn't too far, you looked over your shoulder and armin, sasha, and connie were arranging the balloons, tying them with ribbon and letting some stray ones float. "they're doing good, i think, thanks for helping with the food."

"no worries." she continued to slice at the onion, but something else was itching her, and she couldn't help but ask. "how did you get eren to not follow you here?"

"'was hard, i hung out with him for a little longer, that's why i was late... and i told him i was running errands." you and eren didn't do much when you were with him, yet you still had fun, even though it was something as simple as chilling on the couch and watch television together. like you thought earlier, eren's presence was enough.

mikasa's head shook, scooping up the onions and placing them in the bowl where niccollo was working, squeezing a lime into the mashed avocado. "didn't take you as a liar," she joked. "what time is he coming?"

you shrugged, eyes glancing to niccollo who was mixing together the guac, then trailing to the grocery bag beside it. "probably around seven like i asked, i don't know. can you grab me some big bowls?"

mikasa went to grab a large clear bowl, placing it down beside you gently. "here," she handed you the bowl, a section in the middle for the guacamole.

"do you think he knows we're planning his surprise party?"

"he might have an idea about it." mikasa replied. "but not a big one, the other day he called armin asking why we didn't invite him over."

your hand stuttered, and you almost cut your finger while slicing the fruit in front of you. "what did armin say?" eren didn't question you further after you told him you had went over to study, so your lie couldn't have clashed with whatever armin told him.

she took the knife from your hand, using it to slide the tomatoes you cut off the cutting board and into the guac. you pulled the bag of tortilla chips out of the grocery bag and opened it up, pouring it into the clear bowl.

"armin didn't say much, he just said you had passed by and that it was nothing special."

you let out a sigh of relief, moving the chips around then pushing the board towards niccollo. "nicollo, put the guac in the middle when you're done." another bag, and another bowl that you poured the contents into. "when i got home from your house few days ago he asked me why i went without him and i told you i grabbed some calculus notes."

"that's close enough." she grabbed the bowl of tortilla chips once niccollo put the guac in the middle. "i'm gonna put these on the table."

"and i'll put the rest of the snacks in the bowls, you can help out there." niccollo told you, pulling the bowls away from you and ushering you out before you could say anything, his hands on your shoulders moving you to the entrance of the kitchen. you didn't question him, just taking your leave and heading towards the living room, wanting to see how the others were doing.

the decorations were coming together, balloons creating an arch around the television set, "happy birthday" letters connecting from one end of the wall to the other, hanging over armin and connie's head, and more balloons connecting together on either side of sasha and jean who were sat sitting on the couch.

it was beautiful, the greens, silvers, and whites all complimenting each other, from the table cover, to the streamers on the dining room wall, it was all a pretty sight to look at and you were filled with bliss, bliss at the fact that it was working out like you had planned, at the fact that your friends and you could put everything together so well.

"guys, you guys did so good!" you sounded cheery, and they caught on small smiles appearing on their faces at the joy on your face, it seemed seeing you happy made them happy too, just like sasha and niccollo. "i really love it!"

"see, i told you she'd like the arch." armin commented, hand pointing to the arch of balloons. "they wanted to just put balloons everywhere, i thought you'd like it if we made it more uniformed." and he was right, you did love it, it was more than you asked for, more than you expected them to do.

"yeah, no, i love this." you had pulled out your phone, preparing to take a picture but stopping for a moment, looking at the time. it was almost seven, and so you decided to text eren instead.

march 30th, 6:43pm

⤷ you can be on your way soon!!!

"i told him he could be on his way like an hour ago." a red solo cup was in your hand, and you were standing with hitch in the kitchen, her sipping at her own drink. you were getting fidgety, almost an hour had passed and eren wasn't here yet, nor did he respond to the last text you sent him. maybe he forgot?

"maybe he got caught in traffic." hitch shrugged, "i don't think he forgot." it was like she read your mind, but it didn't help to calm you— traffic didn't even sound plausible with how near you and eren's apartment was to armin and mikasa.

"traffic? seriously, we don't live far from here, he would've made it sooner than now."

armin frowned at hitch, "maybe not traffic, but maybe he's still getting ready, you know eren's always a little late places... just relax until he gets here." his hand reached out, palm up. "want me to refill your drink for you?" you knew he was just trying to ease you up, get something in your system and relax you until eren would arrive.

you were about to hand him your drink but then your phone vibrated, the light flashing from beside hitch and she picked it up for you, eyes moving back and forth while your screen illuminated her face, and you tried reaching for it but where she sat on the counter top she could easily pull it out of your reach, and that's exactly what she did, your hand stretching for your phone while she read it from where her arm was above her.

"hitch!"

"it's eren, he says he's here."

your eyes practically popped out your head, and you turned to armin, placing your cup in his hand, the liquid threatening to spill over the edge with how fast you shoved the flimsy cup in his grip, almost crushing it. "be right back!" you said loud, speeding past your friends to leave the kitchen and get to front door.

your heart pounded in your chest as you exit the kitchen, butterflies filling your stomach. you spun around the bodies of people (which was more than you expected hitch to invite) rushing to get to the front door, to get to see eren, to get to show him everything you all put together.

you almost stumbled over your own feet, apologizing to whoever you bumped into but not daring to look back, because the door was right there, and another burst of restlessness filled you when your fingers wrapped around the cold metal knob of the front door,  the air that hit you raised goosebumps on your legs when you swung that same door open.

you rushed out the door and down the steps, almost missing one in the process, but it didn't matter because there he was, those same wispy hairs you knew he never tried to tame even on his birthday still framing his face, blue green eyes steadying on your figure running towards him, and plump lips breaking out into a smile that you never knew you'd be so happy to see.

eren, he was here, after you didn't know how long, and you were happy, you were so happy you didn't stop running, crashing into him and causing him to stumble back, but god the small chuckle, the feeling of his smile against the top of your head was so beautiful, so relieving.

"eren," you pant out, your breath fanning his arm, and you pressed yourself against him more, like he'd disappear if you let go. "eren, you're here."

"i'm here." your eyes squeezed shut at his words, at the feeling of his arms wrapping around your shoulders, letting you get as close to him as possible, your legs in between his and your head pressed against his chest like earlier in the kitchen. you never thought you would be so happy to see a person, and even though all the two of you ever did was hug it felt so new and so fresh.

you felt like you had been hugging him for only seconds, but when he began pulling you off you didn't complain because there was much more to show him, so many more things for you to be nervous to show him, but wanted to show him anyways because only god knows how long these things took to make for him.

"what took you so long?"

he scratched the back of his neck, tongue sliding over his lip as he grabbed your hand, the two of you slowly walking back towards the apartment. "i had fell asleep, sorry, i'm here now— i couldn't have missed much?"

"jesus, eren, i thought you forgot!" you cursed his stupidity. seriously? falling asleep moments before his party? he had you worried he was gonna miss it, and he could've.

"no, no, i didn't forget. being home alone is boring you know, so i took a nap." you looked down. you did leave him alone for a couple hours, on his birthday at that, but what he would see in a couple minutes would hopefully make up for it.

his eyes raked over you. "you look nice... and to think it's my birthday." he smiled, and although the moon was out, little light being casted on the two of you he didn't fail to notice your attire and compliment you, your hand squeezing his a little more.

"thank you," and you did the same, letting your eyes look over him, quirking a brow at his appearance; a sweatshirt that was covering the undershirt that was peeking through his collar, and some simple jeans— so much for it being his day. "yeah, you didn't dress up much, it's your birthday eren."

he began to swing your hands back and forth, not seeming to care much for your comment. "i woke up late, i just threw something on."

a silence washed over the two of you as you made your way up the steps, and you almost didn't want to go inside. you wanted to talk to eren a little longer, have it be just you and him a little longer because you knew he wouldn't be at your side for too long once you returned to the house.

"ready to go inside?' you asked as if he genuinely had a choice, but for some reason you still felt a bit sad when he nod his head, pulling you to the door with him.

your hand twisted the knob of the door, and if only you could've watched eren's face once you swung it open. a roar of "happy birthday, eren!" flooded both of your ears and eren quickly became the main attraction. he was the main attraction, it was his day, his birthday.

his mouth dropped open, eyes widening and eyebrows coming up in shock— no in awe, and it was no longer a "small" birthday party that he had in his head, there were lots of people he could recognize, lot of eyes on him, and pretty shades of green dusting the room. you felt his hand squeeze yours in return, and he almost didn't even notice his closest friends crowding around him.

"eren! happy birthday!" hitch pat his shoulder, beckoning for him to bend down a little bit, a party hat in her hand that matched the one on top of her head. his gaze broke from the room around him to his friends in front of him, and he bent down, hitch snapping the hat onto his head, you giggling at him as he adjusted it, a goofy grin on his face. if it was any other day, he probably would've refused to have such a silly hat on his head.

"yeah, happy birthday." armin said smiling happily to finally see eren, and smiling to not see you worrying anymore about his arrival. mikasa stood beside him saying a small "happy birthday" as well, and eren stepped forward to give both her and armin a hug before stepping back beside you again, his hand never leaving yours as he did so.

"do you like it?" the question was urging you to ask it, and eren looked down at you again, your nail pulling at your lip while you waited his response.

"do i like it?" he pulled you into a hug too, squeezing your shoulder. it was obvious to him, of course he liked it— how could he not? "so you planned this?"

"we all did."

"who's we all?"

you scanned the room, but it was only you, hitch, armin and mikasa standing in front of eren. "well, the four of us and jean, sasha, and connie too. i don't know where they are though, probably the kitchen."

"i love it, i really do, thank you guys so much."

you felt like a weight had been lifted off of you, like you were free from a burden you had placed onto yourself. everyone told you he would love it, and you knew it too. although, the feeling of eren himself telling you was a relief that never felt so good.

"i'm glad, let's go see the others." so eren's hand that was still intertwined with yours had pulled you along, the other three dispersing to do their own thing. small "happy birthdays" were said to eren as he passed people, and he occasionally stopped to greet someone he knew well properly while you stood back waiting patiently for him. hitch did him justice, most if not all the people he did know, even if you didn't, and now would be a great opportunity to get to know some more people but you chose to stay beside him.

when the two of you had entered the small space of the kitchen, sasha was standing with a plate next to connie. "eren, happy birthday!" her voice was muffled by her food, her covering her mouth as she spoke, but you could tell she was elated to see him with the way she perked up at the sight of him.

"yeah, happy birthday dude." connie blew a party horn in eren's face obnoxiously, and eren's face scrunched up, although you knew he didn't mind, as matter of fact probably the complete opposite. he was almost too happy and you could see it in his walk and his face.

"thanks guys, and thank you for planning this all out."

"thank _____ for getting us off our asses and forcing us to plan this shit." connie quipped, and you would've knocked his head straight if you didn't catch the jest to his tone that made you and eren chuckle.

he looked down at you after connie had pinned the party on you again, "so it was you who planned all of this basically. that's why you kept leaving?"

"yeah, i was planning shit out with them— i wasn't trying to leave you or anything." getting that off your chest felt equally as good, and it seemed that eren felt relieved as well, apart from the way his grip finally slipped from your hand.

"good... good, i love this, you did amazing, i appreciate this a lot." no words were enough to explain how much eren really appreciated you, appreciated everything you were doing for him— so all he could do was hope that you knew. "i'm gonna get a drink and look around, okay?"

"i'll be here." but your reply was short lived. instead of staying with connie and sasha you went to find armin for your drink. you needed it to calm the jitters that you were feeling, and you were glad when you caught him chatting with another blonde, who you surprisingly recognized but sadly couldn't recall her name.

"armin, my drink." the red cup still rested between his fingers, and at the sound of your voice he looked up, immediate remorse on his face when he saw yours, then looking down to the cup before passing it your way.

"i'm sorry, i forgot to fill it up." when you looked down into the cup it wasn't full, the liquid from before still swimming in the bottom. it was fine, everyone was occupied, trying to have fun and so you didn't mind, you'd just fill it up on your way to the kitchen, no big deal.

"who's this?" the girl turned to you, eyes bored as she tapped against the cup in her own hand, and armin looked between her and you, perking up. it was a chance to try to socialize, try to make friends, and you tried to take that chance.

"oh! annie, this is _____, she planned this all out, eren's roommate."

"hey!" you gave her a small smile, hand out for her to shake it, and she did, giving your hand a light shake before letting go. she didn't seem too interested in conversation with you, her blue eyes flitting over to armin every once in a while, while her feet kept turned towards him. "i think i've seen you around before, you look familiar."

she looked you over, studying your appearance before coming to the conclusion that she has seen you before. she put her cup to her lips, drinking before responding. "i'm here sometimes— armin's house."

armin next to you let out a nervous laugh, cracking his knuckles while listening to you and annie's conversation. "yeah, you've probably seen her around before, she comes here often."

you shrug, not sure if you had ever seen her at armin's place. although her face was familiar you couldn't really recall who she was, and you blamed your lack of socialization. you'd keep her name in your head, hopefully for future reference. "probably, but nice to meet you anyways."

armin waved, and you waved back before heading back over to the small crowds of people to get to the dining room, a selection of drinks splayed out for anyone to come and grab as they please.

hitch was there, seated on a table chair she pulled out, sliding a soda can towards her to pour in the alcohol that was already in her cup. she only noticed you when you walked over to stand right in front of her, her eyes gazing up at you before averting her attention back to her drink. "couldn't have asked sash to get some better booze?"

your own arms reached over to do just as her, a can of soda in one hand that you poured inside what was already in your cup— it upped the alcohol, and overall tasted funner. "don't think it was sasha who got it." you replied, taking small sips of your drink as if you were taste testing it.

"hm," hitch did the same, taking a swig of her drink before twirling it in the cup, setting it back down on the table in front of her. "i told you he'd come, and that he'd like it. you were stressing for nothing."

"yeah... i guess," you went to grab the chair diagonal from hitch, pulling it out from behind you and plopping yourself down in it. "where is he anyways?"

hitch looked ahead of you as if she was genuinely trying to find eren before looking back to you with a shrug of her shoulders. "not sure, he was over here a couple minutes ago with jean getting a drink." you missed him by a hair, and your shoulder slumped a little lower.

"he was over here?"

"why, you looking for him?"

you sunk down in your seat a bit, your feet tapping together while your fingers pattered against the plastic of your cup. you weren't looking for him per say, you just wanted to be with him, just have another moment with him, see him happy and see him enjoying himself in what you created.

"eren has got you fucked up— you need to, and i cannot stress this enough;" she pointed her cup at you, "just tell him." hitch let out an exaggerated sigh, her scooting down in her seat as well as she drank her drink again.

"hitch, please, i don't think you've understand how many times i have been told that this week, and nobody seems to understand how not easy that is." and you were right, it wasn't easy, there was too many problems that could arise if it backfired. you'd rather pine for eren for the rest of your life if it meant that things would stay natural between the two of you— if what you had going on now stayed.

"or you're just making it harder than it has to be." she had a challenging look in her eyes, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her knuckles, a small smirk on her lips.

you gave a her a questioning glance, not looking too long and shifting in your seat. maybe it was harder than it had to be. maybe it was your nerves telling you otherwise, maybe you were following the pounding of your heart and the butterflies in your stomach.

hitch looked you over, shaking her head with a small giggle before pushing her head from under her and standing up with her beverage. "i'm gonna go tell connie to change whatever the fuck is playing, i'll catch you later." and she walked around you, body disappearing into the bodies of people leaving you by yourself.

but not for long, a hand on your shoulder making you jump, you turning around and seeing eren, towering above you, a slight smile on his face. speak of the devil, it was the man of the hour— just who you wanted to see, and who you were happy to see. "hey."

"hey," you stand up almost too fast, pushing in the chair and standing in front of him. he steps back to give you some space, almost caught off guard with how fast you stood up. "what's up?"

he leans into your ear, making sure you're able to hear him over the sound of the music and the chatter of the people around the two of you. "want to go outside for a little bit? it's kind of too many people, just wanna get some air." the faint smell of alcohol is present on his breath, and it reminds you to grab your cup, nodding your head and taking his hand in yours— where it felt snug and right, just like it did earlier.

the two of you make your way out the house, and the air did feel good, it didn't feel stuffy, it wasn't loud, it was calm and quiet, the breeze of the night only chilling you slightly, but eren next to you made you dead to the breeze.

he walks forward, only a few steps and you follow along, until both of you are leaning against the railing that kept you from falling a couple feet or so, cup dangling off the edge in your hands, and the moon so bright in the sky it only felt a couple feet away.

"i feel like you don't know how much i actually love this." he starts, and when you look at him he's still staring at head, the glint of the moon making his eyes look ethereal, illuminating them in only the best way possible. "how much i appreciate this, this party, everything."

"i know, eren," a grin can't help but form on your face, and you could hear the words come from his mouth again and again. the feeling that his appreciation sent through you gave a sense of pleasure, a satisfaction and it brought a form of closure. "i know."

it's just quiet, it's nobody talking and it's just the two of you. you're allowed to relish in eren being beside you because that's what you wanted from the moment he arrived, you wanted to be with him, and so despite the two of you not talking, he was enough. the sound of his light breathing was enough, the heat radiating off of him was enough, the sight of him was enough.

yet, you break the silence.

"do you wanna see what i have for you?"

he finally looks your way, and his eyebrows are knit, pink lips only slightly parted, and your eyes can't help but flit down to them before coming back up to his eyes. you weren't sure if he missed your quick glance or not, his lips closing. "there's more."

"if i can recall, you get presents on your birthday right?"

this time, you're the one to grab his hand, and his fits in yours like a puzzle, and you're the one to pull him down the steps that you had ran down earlier, him being the one to finally trail behind you.

you walked him to your car, your hand digging in the pocket of your coat that albeit the warmth of the party you had managed to keep on, and you grabbed your keys, your thumb pressing down onto the black button that made the lights in the vehicle flare up. you place your solo cup on the roof of the car and your hand grasps the car doors for the backseat, opening it up and being greeted by leather seats and a small white bag.

you almost couldn't fathom that this small white bag only days ago you cared so much about, that the ribbon that your hands were holding onto mattered so much to you, the small lettering on the front mattered so much to you— and only moments ago eren couldn't express his enthusiasm for the party you planned for him.

all your friends who had repeatedly told you not to stress were right— if eren loved a stupid dirt cake, and a little embroidered letter, he'd love anything you gave him from a small paper bag or a couple of snacks to a watch, to a party.

you moved aside and eren moved forth, making himself comfortable on the seat of your car while you placed the bag in his lap, and he looked so adorable; the party hat that was splashed with color leaning a little too far right, and the cheerful smile on his face as he moved the tissue aside and peeked into the bag closely, before his head shot up and him beaming at you instead.

even though he didn't even see what was in the bag yet, his hand came to his chest dramatically, acting way too surprised for someone who wasn't even sure what you got him yet. "for me?"

you rolled your eyes gesturing to the present. you wanted him to see it so you ushered him on. "yes for you, now hurry up and open it, it's kind of cold out here." the cold was nothing to you today, your coat kept you warm enough.

he wasted no time complying, pulling out the small black box, a pretty suede under his fingers as he pulled off the lid, and his eyes shone as he did, another look of awe gracing his face as he stared at the contents of the box. you were so giddy, seeing the look of surprised wash over his face, that same feeling of satisfaction you received earlier came over you again and you were practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you watched eren.

it was a watch, the face of it a black and white photo of him and his mom when he was young, and you were to thank mikasa for finding the photo for you. the band was a matte black and the metal detailing the accessory a pretty gold that matched the key necklace that hung around his neck almost at all times. you hoped that the watch would become like the necklace— something he wore almost at all times.

he looked up at you, and although he was sitting down he pulled you forth by your wrist. the action caught you by surprise, his free hand holding your waist and his head buried into your stomach, and almost by default did your hand go up to play with the free strands of his hair, smoothing over his head, playing with his half assed bun and carding your fingers through his soft locks.

your heart was melting, you could almost cry— and you never knew that seeing the joy and admiration of you on someone else's face would mean so much to you, you never knew that making someone else happy was something that made you happy, especially when it came to someone like eren. it was the same expression that your friends had when they saw how happy you were when you all came together to complete another task for the event, and now you could feel what they felt, except tenfold.

so you let him press his head against you while he examined the watch, you were fine with staring over the roof of your car into the distance of the night, staring at what would've looked like nothing to you if eren wasn't in your arms.

it was all something, the tall trees whereas the green leaves on them was only visible because of the moonlight, the arrangement of cars spanning down the parking lot ahead, little things you wouldn't have thought twice about. little things that somehow eren made you recognize, eren made you hyper aware of how the little things mattered, in the worst sense at first, having you constantly stress over the little things. but now you were somewhat happy you took your time on these little things, because the little things that might seem like nothing to you, could mean the whole world to someone else.

you realize that eren would have been happy with anything that you wanted to give to him, no matter how little or big not because of what it is, but because of who you are and the thought that went into it.

you almost missed the small blabbers of "thank you" that left his mouth, his lips moving against the fabric of your dress, and your coat brushing the tip of his nose. it's only when he stood up and said one more to your face that you realized he had been talking to you the whole time.

the bag wasn't in his lap no more, and neither was the box, the watch now around his wrist, and it suited him perfectly, it complimented him so nicely, although it was a simple watch (which to be fair, it was the exact opposite of simple to him). the only thing still the same was his arm around your waist, and the soft expression on his features.

it wasn't that hard, it couldn't have been that hard— not now, when you finally realize that eren is eren, and he'll be happy with you no matter what, no matter what you give him, no matte what you say to him.

"eren?"

"yeah?"

"i like you."

if this was a few hours ago, you would've choked up on your words, your heart would be racing and your hands would be a clammy mess. hours ago you would've refused ever confessing to him, it wouldn't have even crossed your mind once.

hours ago, you didn't know eren as well as you thought you did because you were too busy worrying about the what-ifs, worrying about the little things that he would've loved anyways.

his expression didn't change, and yours didn't either because you were at peace, and your shoulders felt lighter just because he now knew.

"______?"

"yeah?"

"i like you too."

that was all that it took.

that was all it took for both of your hands to cup at his face, and pull him closer while you stood on your tippy toes, foreheads touching, then nose, then lips. all it took for you to feel so loved and complete, all by the feeling of his lips against yours, the synchronization of them moving together made you giddy again, made you happy.

your noses bumped but it was okay, your teeth clinked but it was okay, you both giggled into the kiss, not being able to shake the overwhelming feel of it that somehow still kept you feeling at peace.

he pulled you impossibly close, and he kissed you until he couldn't breathe anymore, taking his time sucking on your lips, savoring every taste of your skin and the way your lips felt. the kiss alone was the cherry to his birthday— scratch that, you were the cherry to his birthday.

and when the two of you finally pulled away for air your head fell forward onto his chest almost immediately, his head resting overtop of yours and keeping you safe in his arms, safe against him. "happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday." you were the one to blabber now, and you weren't sure if it was a distraction for the tears that threatened to spill or not.

he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head, swaying both of your bodies back and forth gently, swiftly, and kindly. he didn't respond, but he didn't need to respond, his love being thrown back at you just by the way he held you.

you could've stayed in this position forever, you really could've but the sound of armin calling for eren from the top of the steps is what broke the moment for the two of you, and what made matters worse (or better) was hitch standing right behind him, a leer on her face that made you let out a sigh.

"hey! eren!" armin almost doesn't realize that it's you right below eren, but when his gaze darts down to you for a millisecond he has to do a double take that causes him to break out in a smile, turning to hitch for a confirmation which she gives with a nod. "we were looking for you, we have to cut the cake!"

eren looks down at you and reluctantly lets you go, shutting your car door for you and grabbing your cup. "you can go back inside we're coming." he announces, and even then armin and hitch don't move, both leaning against the railing like you and eren earlier, as if something would come next between you and eren— you had to chuckle at this.

when you and eren began walking hand in hand, for the first time you didn't worry about what he'd think of the cake, you didn't worry about if he'd like the color, or the taste, or the shape, or anything for that matter, because you knew eren would appreciate anything you'd throw his way.

"hey,"

he looks down at you, and the calm look on his face almost mirrors yours. "yeah?"

"happy birthday, eren."

#eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren yeager fluff #eren jaeger fluff #eren fluff #eren aot #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #snk #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager x y/n #eren x you #eren x y/n

[heartshyuck]

Pairing: Jisung x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst,slow burn, strangers to lovers au, first love, early 1900s au.

Synopsis: Lavenders symbolise purity, silence, devotion, serenity and grace. All endearing characteristics of the gorgeous boy, you met in the fields of purple.

Placed in the late 1930s , just before World War two starts, you flee from your family who are forcing you into a marriage. You lie low in a small village where you meet Jisung in a field of lavenders.

Word count: 23k lmao

Warnings: female reader, misogyny and very backwards ways of thinking, forced marriages, world war two + historical inaccuracy for progression of the plot, drinking

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written and honestly it was a mission, it took about a month to write and I am genuinely so proud of it and really happy with it. Please don't be scared by the length but when I say slow burn, I really mean it!

Your legs seem to be moving on their own, feet hitting the ground at a steady and fast pace, you don’t look back and can’t seem to see what lies ahead but still you run until your lungs burn, run until the bitter metallic taste is at the back of your throat where bile threatens to rise. You run until finally your legs collapse, knees hitting the ground, grazing them and it’s the slight sting of the sediment seeping into the cuts that stop you from passing out. You’re not sure how far you’ve ran or how long you’ve been running, you don’t know where you're running to but you have to escape. 

Escape the life they’ve laid out for you, the one they’ve planned without your input, you can’t live a life where everything is set out, where ’everything is expected and perfect. A life where you’d get married at 18 to a stranger who was of a worthy social class, attend formal lunches with the wives of your husband’s work colleagues and host dinner parties and occasionally large balls in a manor that always felt empty no matter how many paintings you bought to hang on the never ending amount of walls, no matter how many more bookshelves you tried to fit into one room, a place that you’ll always hate. Then to have children by 20, as many boys as possible of course to then not have any say in their upbringing and watch nurses tend to them, your husband educate them and then watch them get married, meet your grandchildren and when you’ve reached a respectable age, death will meet you in your sleep and you’ll be mourned and then forgotten. A life filled with regret, a constant numbness, no fulfilment and no meaning.

You saw your mum live that life, a smile that never quite reached her eyes, always plastered on at any given moment as she walked around the large hall with a glass of nothing but champagne in hand greeting the hundreds of guests that you were never able to comprehend how she managed to remember them all. She never spoke unless spoken to, never put in any input and always obeyed your father even when you could see the frustration bubble up inside her as her eyes glinted and her jaws tightened with the urge to say something.

She would buy gifts upon gifts and shower you in expensive luxuries, spoil you in riches as a form of love and yet it always held another meaning behind it. There was a slight sadness in her eyes as she passed a gift every birthday,christmas and any other reason she found, almost as if she was saying sorry for the life you were going to live and how she’d use these moments as blackmail for when that time came. You’d overhear her quiet sobs when you would sneak around the house late at night, read letters she received from someone you didn’t know and how they wished for her life to get better and for her to find happiness in a world where happiness didn’t exist. You saw your mother cry when your father died, eyes bloodshot red in fear rather than grief. Her life was now uncertain and that's when you decided that you couldn't live an empty life, regretting choices and wishing for death to come to you first.

Your father had always made sure that you would receive a proper education, one where you'd read hours upon hours of the finest English literature, works of science and learned of the past and present politics. He always said "a lady should know about the world around her but should never venture off on her own" you hated that phrase but it was better than what you overheard your friend's father saying to her when she asked for him to explain the concept of communism, "a women does not need to busy herself with politics, for your brain could not even begin to comprehend it" he announced with his nose high up in the air as if he had just said the most inquisitive statement known to man. It baffled you how one could even think that, let alone truly believe it enough to announce it so stupidly in the open, it was obvious that women were capable of understanding concepts like politics, maths and science for you were living proof.

You did better than your brother at grasping algebra, better at them with understanding Versalius's "De humani corporis fabrica" and it didn't take your friend long to understand Karl Marx's theory on communism once you explained it to her. It angered you that this was dismissed especially when your brother soon went off to universities for they had outgrown your father's enormous library and knowledge, there was no more he could teach them but there was still much to learn and you yearned to do the same but as you approached a suitable age for marriage, your everyday classes on Shakespearean English, Tudor monarchy, Greek mythology and Italian art had now been replaced with sewing, crochet, dining etiquette and the differences between napkins, white laced ones for formal lunches, gold embroidery for important dinners and regular silk for everyday use, you'd recite to your mother and the many maids who were on standby.

You've left that world now, left the bustling streets of industrialised London where a black smog always hung around the air and the smell of burnt rubber that stung your nose, you always hated both. Though you grew up in a large estate where there seemed to be a never ending amount of land on the outskirts of London, you never were allowed out to explore. Only allowed out with your mother to pick out fabrics in the markets, surrounded by military men that guarded the general's wife and daughter but now you were alone, no guards, no mother and no black smog to block your view of what lies ahead, only the sun and the ocean sky, clear of clouds as you breathe in fresh air that cleanses your lungs from the toxins that hang in the city air, surrounded by vibrant lavenders that arrive with a strong, sweet smell of pollen which you welcome to replace the bitter rubber your sense of smell only seems to know.

You close your eyes and bask in the warmth of late August , the sun gleaming down on you, rays striking against your skin with the wind between the strands of your hair, blowing the lavenders and they slightly tickle your arms. You’re not sure how long you were in your euphoric trance but you weren't ready to leave yet when the dark shadow was casted over you.

Your eyes lazily open and beauty lies ahead, the sun gleaming behind him, lights him on flames and he burns with a presence so strong you can see it as his aura swirls around you, engulfing you. His features,strong and yet his eyes are soft and even as he's turned away from the sun they sparkle infinitely as they hold the brightest stars, his stare pierces through you and it makes your gut clench as you feel small under his gaze but you don't turn away, daring him to continue staring down on you, well that's what you tell yourself as you can't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes. His face wears a worried expression, his hand out forwards for you to take and place in his and it takes you a while to realise he's trying to help you up, even longer to comprehend the words that leave his mouth, as you just watch his cherry red lips move. You're dazed and for the first time you're not thinking straight, your legs won't move to carry you back up onto your feet but your hand instinctively moves towards him and your own mouth gapes open as it does, and again he repeats himself emphasising the words as his eyes widen further “are you feeling well?” you stare blankly at him, no response until you feel the burning sensation of his hand in yours. A heat that sends shocks through every nerve, it runs through your bloodstream lighting you on fire and as if you were burnt you pull back, shaking off the dizzy spell you rise to your feet, your body finally responding to your screaming brain. A sense of relief washes over you as the fear of losing your mind slowly seeps out as the haze in your mind clears, until your eyes meet his again. “Really y/n, not for a boy” you cry out in your head as your mind seems to be lost in awe looking at him.

You shuffle uncomfortably and it’s just now you realise how much of a mess you look as the embodiment of beauty’s eyes fall down. Your expensive dress torn up, what was once a full sangria and silver ball gown was now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing as it stopped just above your knees, an uneven hem due to the rough ripping which took all of your strength, the white net underneath was visibly stained a brownish yellow, the cuts on your knee not being the only thing the dirt seeped into  but his eyes don’t even seem to stop there, they didn't even seem to notice, only meeting a piece of paper that lied on the floor. He reaches down for it, his eyebrows perk up slightly before handing it back to you.“You dropped this” he avoids eye contact, continuing to stare down, his hand abruptly extends out in front of him and he clears his throat, adding to the excruciating awkwardness between you and you wince at the sudden sound.

“Oh thank you..” you can hear your voice waver and crack and for the first time in your life, your voice isn’t confident, seems like a day full of firsts, your mother would’ve been proud if she saw you acting like this, like a lady she would have put it. Quiet, reserved but really it was just a suffocating stiffness that lingered in the air.

“Jisung” he completes your sentence, a small, shy smile appears on his face as his eyes look at everything but you, the letter still in his grasp he shakes his hand at you slightly urging you to take it. Your fingers brush past his ever so slightly as you take the letter back into your possession, a spark is sent through you and your fingers twitch, as if wanting more but you stop them from moving any further, your eyes slightly widen as you catch yourself falling so easily and if Jisung catches the weird expressions on your face, he chooses to ignore them not saying anything. “You are not from around here, are you?” His voice is light and airy as he speaks softly, as if you were made of glass and any harsh tone could break you, you can’t tell if it’s because of the immense awkwardness or because of the pity he must feel seeing you in such a state. You hope it’s the former and decide that’s what it is, when he starts playing with the edges of his white shirt.

“No I live in London” the words die as soon as they leave your mouth, you used to live in London, you don’t anymore. This only adds to Jisung’s awkwardness and it reminds you no matter how beautiful he is, he’s only just a boy who’s probably around your age. So you smile at him, letting out a small breathy laugh in hopes of lightening the mood, it works as he visibly unstiffens. “Used to” Jisung doesn’t press on the matter any further, doesn’t ask anymore questions, just nods. The unsettling atmosphere sets in once again and your incapability of standing in silence for more than a second, you clear your throat "do you know where this address is?" your tone light and airy, you sound almost clueless and it’s now you realise the true meaning behind every etiquette class, the role of the women is the domestic war, the war on power. For one to rise they must make powerful allies and that’s what this voice is for, to obtain the power of a man and trick them into helping you; so you're glad when Jisung takes the letter back into his grasp and examines the writing at the front, it’s worked.

“I’ll show you the way” and you nod with a slight smile as a thank you, Jisung leads the way and you follow soon behind, with his face no longer in my sight you can finally observe the rest of him. Judging by his height and build, seems like he comes from a well off family. Though there wasn’t a day you felt hungry, you weren’t blind to the outside world no matter how hard your parents tried to shelter you from it. The world is living off rations but the wealthy still have access to more, Jisung must have some sought of status or most likely works for a household with high status considering it seemed like he was running errands, why else would he be in a field full of lavenders and it’s only reinforced by the fine silk that flows as wind rushes past you. Somewhat similar to the material that makes up your gown, or what’s left of it, it’s an expensive material imported from colonies in the empire. He walks with no flaw and so you guess he didn’t serve in the war, meaning he has to be around your age; this new life is exciting and scary, you’re not sure what you want yet but you certainly wouldn’t mind if the boy in the lavender field stuck around for a while.

Jisung’s steps slowed and soon came to a stop outside a large estate, it was nowhere near as big as your parent's manor but comparing it to the small petite houses in the village you could just about see; it definitely was the biggest house in the village. You turned to thank Jisung, mouth slightly opened as the words were prepared to leave until you saw him pull out a key and a heat rose up your neck onto your face, in both slight embarrassment and excitement as you realised that Jisung must live here and your mouth couldn’t help but confirm your thoughts, “do you live here?” you blurted quickly with a slight lift in your tone, which you hope wasn’t too obvious in exposing your excitement.

His eyebrows rise, a small smile appears but he doesn’t answer your question, continuing to unlock the doors and allows you to step in first, a women who barely makes it past Jisung’s shoulders calls out to him, embracing him as she tightly wraps her arms around his waist, Jisung leans back slightly as a way of hoping to loosen her grip as his face scrunches up in pain as the struggle to breath sets in but there’s a constant smile on his face right until he peels her off. It’s then she punches him in the stomach, making him crouch down below her, holding onto his stomach.

“How many breaths must I waste in having to tell you to make sure you fulfill all your duties before you head to the fields'' she nags him and a smile is brought to your face at the violent display of affection, you guess he must be a part of the service team that works for the master of this house, which was exceptionally beautiful in the inside; much bigger than what it lets off from the outside, your eyes can’t help but linger elsewhere and observe the hidden beauty in all the small intricate designs. “Young master” the lady continues to punish him for his action and you head whips around at her words, she hasn’t even noticed you but Jisung’s eyes are constantly on you watching your expressions change as more as more information is being released to you, a smile appears on his face and at first it seems like a smirk but soon you notice the constant pink dust across his cheeks and you realise he’s embarrassed. There’s a strange feeling in your chest, a warmth that spreads and has you clutching your fists as you think at how adorable he is, your eyebrows furrow and you shake both the thoughts and the smile off.

Finally after what seems like hours of you staring at Jisung but in reality was no longer than a few seconds, the petite woman turns to you and acknowledges your presence,  her eyes widen in surprise and she rushes to your side. “Oh lord, my dear child are you okay?” she grabs your hands and ushers you down the hall into a secluded room that takes up a big portion of the ground floor of the house.

The kitchen, filled with plenty of workers,busy hands and food; she shouts at a maid to move a few things around and to make some space for you around the small table that holds vegetables and freshly cut meat. There’s the smell of spices that are definitely too exotic to be from these lands, parcels with German writing and several people cooking dishes you don’t recognise.

You're pushed down onto a small wooden chair that slightly rocks and it is by far the most uncomfortable place you’ve ever sat but you don’t dare complain even after the minutes pass and your legs begin to ache. The maids ran around you and even as you left that world behind, you still somehow ended up in the same position and then you realise it’s the fine silk you wear that sets you apart, the rows and rows of pearls around your neck and rings on your fingers. They don’t ask any questions, just wiping away at the dirt on your legs; the same women at the door pouring a type of alcohol over your cuts and it stings drawing out a hiss from you, “sorry” she whispers and blows slightly on the irritated skin. The kitchen quiets down and the other maids exit, leaving you and the same women who scolded Jisung, she didn’t bother to ask him any questions and quickly sent him away to carry on with the work he didn’t finish, she doesn’t ask you any questions either for it’s not her place to ask. 

She wraps bandages around your knees and your eyes wander around, landing on a picture of her with three little boys, you recognise the smallest to be Jisung, she catches your eyes and smiles “the masters, when they were little devils” she remarks making you and her both let out small laughs, “though they aren't much better now” she smiles fondly as she continues to wrap the bandages, you see love in her eyes and can tell that she raised them.

“The smallest is Jisung, am I correct?” you ask just to confirm your assumption, she nods and smiles, “i can tell by his awkwardness, it’s radiant even in pictures” you scoff and she laughs. "Who are the other two?" Your curiosity seemingly has no end.

"The tallest is master Jeno and the one in the middle is master Jaemin" she says as she cuts the bandage. You take note of their names and match it to their appearances though you assume they've probably changed quite a bit. The tallest, Jeno has crescent moons for eyes as his smile pushes them up, it's adorable. The middle, Jaemin also has a bright smile, probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen but Jisung still stands out the most to you, maybe it’s because you’ve seen how he looks now; the change is definitely visible, he’s grown much taller and into his sharp features. He's definitely handsome, epitome of beauty but by the way he timidly walks you’re not quite sure he knows it.

“Will these do, ma’am?” her hands hold onto a set of clean clothes and you only nod at her as you take the clothes from her hands, calloused and rough from years of labour. "Please just call me y/n" you tell her trying to remove your status and she only nods in return. "And what may I call you" you ask her.

"Daphne" she replies and you notice that she smiles at you, a full smile nothing quite like you've seen before and you'd like to think this what a smile should look like. Genuine. Instead of all the small smiles you recieved, the ones with hidden agendas and meanings, the ones because of who your father was, the one because of your status, name, title, money and a persuasion for your hand in marriage. So many smiles yet none truly considered one. God you hated that life.

"Now y/n let me show you to a room" she leads you out the room and you follow her upstairs, all the maids rushing back into the kitchen after you have left. She turns left and right and you find that the upstairs is far more complicated to navigate, with many different rooms. When she finally reaches a long corridor, she stops to point at the room that awaits at the end. "That will be your room ma'am" and before she even could finish her sentence properly, "y/n" you correct her and she only nods, giving you a soft smile as an apology."Please call for me if anything isn't to your liking" she says and just as she's about to step away, ready to leave you to get comfortable.

You call her back, "Daphne, can you please tell me who this is" you lift up the small blue letter that leads you here to this address, to finally put a name to the mysterious woman who only seemed to want the best for you and your mother. She takes the small letter from your grasp, examining the small font that's slowly fading due to the number of years it's collected dust. Her eyes widen as she reads the letter, her head snapping up to look at you, her lips parting slightly as if her jaw threatened to drop.

"My god" she says as she continues to read, shock written all over her face, "this is from the master's mother, dear" she tells you and you join her in shock as your jaw hangs a lot more obviously in shock. "She worked for your family when she was young" she continues to tell you and the ripples of shock continue to pulse through your body. Your mother and her are good friends from what you've gathered, reading all the letters you found. Yet your mother never even allowed you to mix classes, always telling you to stick with your own people, people who can pay for your time, literally. Yet here she was being friends with a woman considered below her, even considering sending you away to her. The hypocrisy is what shocked you the most, for you didn't think your mother could build relationships if it weren't for a social advantage.

"Can I meet her?" you ask, excited until you see sadness seep into her eyes, she looks down and she shuffles slightly. Her eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall and your own shoulders droop down and a frown is formed on your lips. "I'm sorry" you apologise but she shakes her head and wipes her eyes slightly.

"Don't be silly, you didn't know and it's better you found out through me anyways." She tells you and you're glad that you found out through her too, you don't think you would've been able to handle it coming from Jisung. "If you do not mind me, but when did she pass" you ask carefully as to not break her.

"Last May" she tells you and you hear sadness in her voice , as it slightly cracks and you release a deep sigh as to rid your body from the contagious mood. With that she hands the letter back into your hand and leaves you to wash up, "Dinner will be ready soon, please wash up" she urges you to go into the room.

You walk down the corridor, steps heavy as your heart grieves for Jisung and as you're reminded of your own father's death, though he planned on marrying you to a stranger you didn't love and never truly wanting you to live happily. You loved and still love him with every ounce of your being, all making grief an impossibly hard process. For your heart hurt and your mind could not comprehend why.  Your eyes stung with tears and your hands trembling with pain and still the mind was questioning why you felt sad. Then the guilt blooms, hovering above you, for this man raised you and cared for you and yet you question your grief as you sit by his deathbed. Yet you remind yourself that questioning your grief is better than not feeling any at all, you remember looking over towards your mother who wore black and instead of grieving her husband's death, she felt grief for her widow status that crushed her social status, for who was she without her husband.

So as you remove the many pearls and diamonds around your neck, gifted to you by your mother, you’re reminded why you left that life behind. You won’t be defined by your husband but by what you have achieved and for who you are. Yet you leave on the thin golden chain with a single pendant on your neck, as a reminder for where to come from and how far you’ve travelled. It was a gift from both your mother and father, the one gift you like to think wasn’t used as a symbol of your wealth to attract men in asking for your hand in marriage, the simplicity of this necklace led you to believe that this was a genuine gift of their love.

Changing out of your ball gown or the remainders of it, you feel anew. Stripping out of your old skin and into much comfortable and humble ones, you feel as if your new life is finally starting and though it’s far from what anyone would have wanted for your life to be like, it’s what you want. You’ve been here for just under an hour and instantly you're on cloud nine, floating to where only the sun is. The rays dancing on your skin and euphoria runs within your veins, this is life.  

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in a daze but soft knocks on the door is what awakens you and you're quick to open the door, not wanting to leave the person on the other side waiting but you’re met with a fist, that seems as if it malfunctions as it goes down by the side of the same person who seems to waking you out of all your dazes recently. Jisung stands there awkwardly, legs crossed and hands behind his back, he stutters as he says “dinner is...um.. It is awaiting” and with that he cuts himself off, rushing the words out of his mouth and quickly turns around, rushing downstairs.

You can only smile at him, how was someone allowed to be that cute. Following soon after him you enter into the dinning room, the smile on your face completely wiped off by the shock of two other men sitting around the table. Your back straightens as your body stiffens, by habit, you’ve been taught to look most confident when caught off guard.

“Sit here y/n” Daphne takes out the seat opposite of Jisung and next to a man you don’t know until he smiles your way, you recognise that smile and it’s still as pretty as it looks in the picture hanging in the kitchen. You smile back at him as you make your way by his side and take your seat.

“Hello, I’m Jaemin” he turns to you, dropping his fork and it clatters as it hits the plate, a beautiful smile across his face and you finding it comforting to think it hasn’t changed at all. He then lifts your hand to his lips, placing them softly on your knuckles all whilst keeping that damn smile held across his lips and staring straight into your soul, heat rises up your body slightly thrown back and he can see the shock in your eyes . Your well crafted facade cracking. His eyes are still boring into yours and you can’t move, stuck looking into his eyes, hands stuck to his until a kick. Coming from across the table, a force hits Jaemin’s shin causing him to yelp, instantly turning away from you and dropping your hand, you notice a small smile on Jisung’s face as he tries to conceal his laughter. You turn to look at where such a force came from, fierce strong features and an intimidating stare yet when he turns to you crescent moons appear, his aura changing immediately and the child in the portrait comes to life. “I’m Jeno” his voice is soft yet clear and all you can do is smile back before replying simply your name “Y/N” you tell him and he nods your way. 

Thinking that silence would now set in was foolish of you, for you should’ve guessed Jaemin isn’t the type to let there be silence and looking back now you could definitely tell he was itching to ask you so many questions. “I guess you have already met Jisung” he turns to you again and you only nod, looking up at the tall boy in front of you but he only stares at the soup in front of him but you know he senses your gaze as he twitches slightly in his seat, holding himself back from looking up and directly into your eyes. “He is not usually this quiet, he will warm up to you soon” Jaemin apologises on behalf of Jisung yet he grimaces at the words that leave Jaemin’s mouth but you smile at Jaemin ignoring Jisung’s expression.

The rest of dinner is filled with small talk between you and Jaemin, him asking you your favourite colour and trivial things like that, you discussed different authors and scriptors to which Jeno also chimed in on the conversation, both very impressed on your knowledge though you aren’t sure if they were impressed because you were a woman or genuinely impressed by the vast knowledge you had accumulated over the years spent in your father’s library however you brushed that thought aside, carrying on with the conversation, eyes drifting to Jisung at times who just sat there playing around with spoon, twisting it between his fingers instead of daring to look at you let alone to add to the conversation. Finally as Daphne takes away the plates, Jeno stands up dismissing himself from the table, “It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I hope you stay a while it was fun having you” he tells you with those same moons for eyes and you thank him for his hospitality “It was a great pleasure to meet you too, thank you for allowing me to stay” you say them at Jeno and Jaemin but they’re mainly directed to Jisung who brought you here.

“If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to tell me” Jaemin smiles, a hand on your shoulder as he stands next to where you sit and you only nod at him, he then comes to your ear, lips so close you feel them brush against the shell “Jisung will come around, I’m sorry if he’s making you feel uncomfortable” he apologises on his behalf for the second time that night and you wave him off with a smile. You could already tell that Jisung is shy and awkward but it’s not confused for hate or resentment, he simply doesn’t know how to act around a female and it’s clear the way he trips over his words and his very own legs but to be fair they are very long.

After everyone left the table and made their ways to their own rooms, you too made your way to bed. Laying there you think back to how far you’ve come, a few months ago this all would have been nothing but a dream and now it’s a reality and the euphoric feeling you imagine is everything and more. Freedom is worth anything is what you’ve learnt, the freedom to live your life the way you want. To be in control of all your decisions, living with the consequences but not a single shred of regret because you chose it and therefore it must have been for a reason. It’s new and exciting but so scary as the colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach, all the possibilities panning out in your head and for some reason as you drift off to sleep that night, you see Jisung in this future of yours.

The sun shined in through the sheer curtains of your room, sunlight dancing on your skin and the warmth made you feel alive as it tingled. The house was quiet and as you look out the window you realise that even the Sun has still yet to wake fully, still sleepy rising out of the horizon. The birds chirp and the lavender fields roar as the wind dances but there in the middle of it all is a figure. Jisung. Your eyes light up and your legs are quick to move, still in your nightgown, hair in a mess you rush to meet him there. The stairs creak as you step down them slowly, as if a child trying not to get caught, you try your best not to wake a soul.

Once out the door you run out towards the purple sea, the cold morning air refreshing to the midday humidity that sticks your clothes to your skin, instead the wind blows through you and you feel free as all boundaries and confinements are washed away but then it hits you, causing your legs to halt. Jisung barely knows you, how weird it would be for you to run up to him at the break of dawn? Very weird you decide as you slowly make your way back to the house, hoping to not make any noise that might draw his attention your way.

Stepping back inside, your back against the heavy wooden door you let out a deep sigh as your eyes fall closed in relief. Thank god he didn't see you, you think to yourself as you just stepped into the living room and your heart dropped down to your stomach, lungs stopping as you see him there. Jisung flicking through a book, his eyes come up to meet yours which are blown out in shock as you stare between him and looking back at the door, his lips fold into a line and you practically see the questions forming in his mind as he scratches the top of his head.

“Good Morning” you say with a smile but the embarrassment isn’t covered well, eyes everywhere but his. He softly replies with a mumble you’re unsure if he actually said anything back or if you just made it up but as your eyes land on the book in his hand and all thoughts are banished. You rush round the table, Jisung’s eyes wide now as it’s his turn to be shocked as you sit down beside him, taking the book out of his hand to have a look at the title. “Ah a classic” you say as your fingers run over the title and Jisung only nods at your words. “Is it your favorite Shakespearean play?” you ask in hopes of starting up conversation, all you get in return is nod of the head but that does nothing but urge you to talk again to fill the silence. “I like Hamlet but i think Macbeth is my favourite. The best character being Lady Macbeth, a strong ambitious women” you state and Jisung only laughs at this causing you to turn back to him.

“She had lost her mind” he laughs again and you smile

“Yes but as a woman she exerts power and it’s not really seen much in female characters in stories and real life” you tell him, explaining how a woman like her is admirable for her strong spirit.

“Yes but doesn’t Shakespear describe her to have a masculine soul that within a femine body, he is saying the ambition and power are masculine and therefore is she really a good embodiment for strong powerful females?” he argues back, questioning you and you can’t help but smile.

“But he uses her and the witches to plant the idea of murder in Macbeth’s head, he shows that they are powerful and can achieve what they want through manipulation which he explains to be a women’s method, they are in control of the men and it shows that if it weren’t for social confinments that they would pursue their ambitions for themselves, is Macbeth really the one in control?” you question him back and he smiles

“You win” he laughs and pride is struck through you, there’s no feeling quite similar to winning a debate but there's sadness at the bottom of your gut as you remember and miss your brothers who you would debate with until frustrations would burst out of you all and it leads to punches being thrown around.

“Let me guess, you hate Romeo and Juliet” he expects you to say yes and you know it’s because he probably thinks their love for each other is shallow but you can’t say you do.

“I don’t actually, aside from the whole love at first sight, I somewhat relate to it” you tell him eyes staring at him but unfocused as you think back to how your own life was in comparison to Juliet’s, “the being forced into something you don’t want and dying for your freedom, in this case her freedom was Romeo but i don’t think he was the only reason she chose to flee, I’d like to think ran away for herself and to allow herself her own choices in life” and then silence as Jisung took in your words, a perspective he had never really thought about, the story was always solely based on romance but then again he had never been put in the position of being forced into something so life changing such as marriage. Jisung couldn’t begin to comprehend how it felt to be used so obviously for social gain and being stripped and deprived of anything else that would hinder that.

 Sensing stiffness in the air, you had to do something about it, you finally got Jisung to actually have a conversation with you. “Still Macbeth is the best” and again you manage to get a laugh out of him. The sound is so sweet that angels come down to listen to it, the heavens split open at the first bubble of laughter that leaves his mouth and your eyes light up as your body tingles with pride for causing it, you’re addicted to it and you're itching to hear it again. You need to hear it again.

The moment is cut off though with the entrance of Jaemin and Jisung’s eyes avert to his brother greeting him a good morning as quietly as he did to you and Jaemin sleepy replies in a yawn, rubbing his eye  before sitting down opposite you. “Morning y/n” he greets you and you smile before greeting him back, turning back to Jisung to hopefully start up the conversation again. “So what else are you reading?” you ask and your eyes light up as you scan over the many books on the table before you.

“Oh y/n, you know how to read!” Jaemin jumps up, it wasn’t expected for someone to be literate to the extent they could read Shakespeare or any higher educational scriptures, unless of a high class, let alone a women but your father taught you all he could and then you leached off your brothers who were lucky enough to be sent to school but Jaemin had already been aware of this “Yes my father taught me” you tell him and he nods rapidly.

“Yes I know, I just thought you’d like to know that there’s a library upstairs if you ever get bored and want to read something” he tells you and excitement bubbles up inside you and the instinct to run up there and have a look at their book collection is something far harder to conceal then it should be and Jaemin laughs at your eagerness. “Jisung could use someone like you, he’s always trying to get away from his studies” and you hear Jisung let out a nervous laugh as you turn towards him, completely offended.

“You have the privilege of being able to study and you want to run away from it” you gasp and it causes Jaemin to laugh again but this wasn’t a laughing matter, you were completely serious. You would die to be in his position and something about the way Jisung holds an apologetic look makes you think he knows you would.

“I guess you’ll just have to be with him to help him study” Jaemin offers a solution and your eyes light up at this, the excitement running through your veins. You all know exactly what that means, yes it’s babysitting Jisung to make sure he gets all his work done but it also means you get to study whatever he’s learning and expand your knowledge as far as you can. Jisung seemed hesitant at first but after seeing how you visibly lit up at the suggestion he couldn’t help but agree to take you along with him when he had to study.

After breakfast Jisung led you up to the library, it was a large room filled from ceiling to floor with books, the sight alone made you dizzy with excitement, as you stepped in the beloved smell of old books filled your senses and your hands instantly rushed to run along the spines of every book. Your eyes sparkled as you looked over each one and Jisung watched as fascination completely engulfed you, he couldn’t stop watching as you pick out a book, couldn’t take his eyes off you as your eyes skimmed the blurb, he was mesmerized by what he wasn’t too sure of. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to move on from your figure until you turned to face him, time stood still as he watched more and more of the bright smile that was held across your face be revealed to him, you were beautiful. Once met with yours, his eyes scrambled away as they always do and he was quick to turn around and seat himself at the desk that sat in the centre of the room.

You too situated yourself on one of the more comfortable chairs, opposite to Jisung, you watched him begin to write, his head slanted and both arms splayed out on the table, he was the height of beauty and grace, the gods carved him from marble, so ethereal Aphrodite herself was jealous of his perfection, Apollo envied his grace. Though you were here to study, read as many books time allowed you, your eyes were distracted and little did you know they were distracting Jisung as well. Your gaze causes his breath to halt, his hands to sweat and pink dust to decorate his skin. You were dazed, stuck in a trace of his beauty and had to do something to get out of it, you clenched your hand; nails digging into your palms, pressing hard to wake you. You forced your head to the side, eyes looking at the bookshelf once again but your actions caused Jisung to look up, you can feel his stare on you and a shiver is sent through your spine, too scared to look back at him, afraid you’ll be pulled back into his trance.

“You have a lot of German books” you say, hoping your nervousness isn’t obvious and just to be sure you get up and head towards the books. You feel him staring at every step you take and you just pray you're the only one that can hear the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage as a colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach. Fingers tracing over the German writing on the spine of each book, you try to distract yourself from him and try to compose yourself once again but then his voice echoes through the room, deep and smooth it sends shivers rippling through you.

“My father was stationed in Germany” he tells you as his eyes finally move away from your figure, a sense of relief washes over you as he continues to write once again. Yet you're still too nervous to turn around, too nervous to look at him, he who is the epitome of beauty.

“Still?” you ask, filling in the silence as you pull out another book, examining the words on the front cover but you instantly regret it as Jisung’s eyes fall back onto you.

“After the war he was assigned a higher position in the Rhineland and then after they were dismissed he was asked to stay along the French borders'' he tells you and once again your curiosity gets the best of you and you ask him another question. If you remember correctly, it’s been 10 years since the dismissal of the troops in the Rhineland.

“So when was the last time you saw him?” and instantly you regret the words that leave your mouth, your curse yourself a million times over. Jisung’s silence is all too overwhelming and your chest grows tighter as guilt takes over your body and just as you’re about to apologise, he answers

“He visited last year” Jisung simply states but you can hear the strain in his voice, the pain he’s tried his best to cover yet it seeps through and your glad you can’t see him right now because you couldn’t bare to see the sparkle in his eyes fade slightly as you remember the passing of his mother, that most probably led to his father returning back home. Silence settles again and your frozen by the shelves, the air so heavy it feels as if weights were holding you down, your mind hazy as you space out and as the common pattern goes, Jisung wakes you out of the depths of your mind with a voice as smooth as honey, it provides a comfort that sends shivers down your spine.  “He’ll be back soon though, he’s officially been discharged for retirement” he tells you as if he can feel your stiffness and out of the corner of your eye you see he’s giving you a small comforting smile, just to make the air seem a little lighter.

Time seems to fly past as you both sit there, Jisung’s hands busy writing away as he refers back to scriptures and your eyes busy as you read up on German politics and the structure of the Weimar constitution, that revolutionised democracy, the sun was now high in the sky as noon approached. You didn’t even notice until Jisung let out a loud yawn, arms above his head as he stretched and let out mumbles of how you should stop for today or at least take a break. You only nodded in response as you stretched your own limbs out, you had ended up curled up in the chair with your legs tucked away as you leaned into what you were reading. Jisung couldn't help but smile as he looked up occasionally to see your eyebrows furrowed as you read and he can't help the soft laugh from escaping his lips now as he watches you stretch. "And what is it that you find so funny?" You question him, eyes narrowed but your lips are clearly fighting back a smile and the sight of it flusters Jisung, stammering over his words ``N-Nothing" he answers and you let out a small smile to let him know you were only kidding.

As you both leave the room, you can't help but follow Jisung "and what is it you do after you are done studying?" Your question startled him as he visibly flinched at the sound of your voice and he mentally tells himself to get used to your unquenchable curiosity. "Except for picking lavenders" you tease. He lets out a soft laugh, the same sound you've been itching to hear since this morning.

"Nothing much" he tells as he makes his way down the stairs. Following him down, he makes his way towards the drawing room, sitting himself down in an old velvet chair, you place yourself beside him in a matching one. Your eyes peering over towards his hands that pull at needle and thread and you’re astounded by the sight in front of you, a male who knows how to sew is as rare as diamonds, as impressive as gold. Jisung continuously stuns you, his nimble fingers work diligently as they pull the thread to make patterns across the once plain cloth.

He can feel the burn of your stare on his hands, his chest tightens and his nerves are lit on fire, he is hyper aware of every wander of your eyes. His mind clouded by the mere thought of you watching him, his mind so fixated on impressing you, for a reason he’s not sure of, he doesn’t pay much attention to the needle any longer; a mistake he realises once the sharp point collides with the soft skin of his index, drawing blood. He flinches back away from the sharp contact as you leap forward to cup his hand in both of yours. Pressing your thumb against his finger, applying pressure in hopes of stopping the seeping blood, you slightly blow upon it to relieve it of any pain but Jisung can’t feel any pain not when your overwhelming heat rolls of you and radiates on to his skin, with every touch sparks fly on top of his skin fizzling underneath and seeping into his bloodstream. A fluttering blooms in his stomach and Jisung has no idea what this feeling is, it’s new and exciting. He craves it as his eyes drift to your worried face and once your eyes meet his, the emotion is buried by the overwhelming nervousness he feels engulfing him, his cheeks flush and his breath is caught in his throat. He pulls away from you and quickly stands “I’ll” he pauses thinking what to say next “I’ll get a bandage” he spits the words out as soon as his mind comes up with the excuse.

“I’ll get it, sit down” you stand up and ready to head towards any one of the maids that could help you but your steps are interrupted by Jisung’s voice once again.

“No it’s fine, I’ll get it” he blurts out, hand stopping you as he places in front of you, your head moving back on reflex, and with that Jisung runs out the room; feet moving fast as his left hand tightly wraps around his right index.

You sit there for what felt like forever waiting for Jisung’s return but in reality it was no more than 10 minutes, you were never one to hold patience. So you rose to your feet, eager to find the tall boy that let awkwardness roll off of him. Heading to the direction you saw Jisung turn, you make your way to the familiar kitchen, many busy bodies work their way around preparing for dinner as the clock is nearing sun fall. Your eyes wander the familiar walls with the same pictures you stared at upon the first day of your arrival, until they stopped on the figure they seeked. There he stood by the wooden table that just about reached his waist. He poured flour into a bowl, followed by two eggs and your eyes watched his every moment again and as if he could sense you, his rose to meet you once again. You smile because it just comes so naturally when with him and he smiles back, how could he not?

Inviting yourself in, you step closer towards Jisung, “A cook too” you say, you’re impressed and it’s evident in your voice.

“It’s a basic necessity” he says yet there’s a pink coating that dusts his cheeks, you know he’s flattered by your words despite his own.

“Basic necessity?” you question as you sit down, legs crossed, on an empty wooden chair just by where he stands “I guess I should learn” you state nonchalantly, not expecting the reaction it would provoke from Jisung. His head snaps to turn to you, his eyes searching your face for any indication that you were only pulling his leg, that this was only a joke but those indications never showed because this wasn't a joke, you were serious.

“What? Does a girl have to know how to cook?” you question him in a scoff, an eyebrow raised as you question his thoughts that control his expressions.

“No they don’t but I can be surprised, I know you are surprised I can” he rebuttals, calling out your hypocrisy but to this you only smile, you were glad Jisung could stand his own ground, it wouldn’t be fun otherwise.

“More impressed than surprised” you state, earning a smile from Jisung once again, you pat yourself on the back each time you manage to pull out that sweet, healing smile that seems to wash all worries away.

“Who’s to say I’m not impressed” he questions you once again and continues to mix the batter, adding more ingredients, again you smile at his words and Jisung feels his heart flutter at every stretch of your lips. He craves to see it more.

“Can you teach me?” your question catches him off guard and his eyebrows leap up into the soft brown hair that covers his forehead, “what I’m not totally hopeless, I’ve read a book on it before” you pout. Laughter rings through the air as Jisung has doubled over, unable to hold in the snorts and his breathing unsteadies as your words register in his head and this only makes your pout more prominent and your eyebrows knit together.

“I’m sorry” Jisung laughs out as his eyes fall onto your expression but he can’t hold it in, a few bubbles of laughter spilling out as he tries to calm his breaths, his eyes glossy as tears threaten to fall and you try to fight back your own laughter as the corners of your lips slightly perk up. “Did you say you read a book on cooking” he can’t even get through the sentence without laughing but he’s quick to reign it back in to allow you to answer.

“Yes” you say proudly, head still held high and Jisung bites down on his lips as the splutters of laughter threaten to escape again. “It’s obviously not the same thing but I’ve read basic methods” you state in defence.

“You make it sound like science” he scoffs at your words and you roll your eyes at his.

“Is it not, the mixing of substances to achieve a product. It sounds like alchemy to me” you explain your thought process and Jisung nods in agreement. Though you can tell he has something to say.

“Alright then, let us say cooking is science” he begins and you raise your eyebrow in questioning as to where this is leading “reading a method for an experiment is not the same as doing the experiment, there are things that are not accounted for, practical errors, measuring errors. The method tells you what to do but not how to do it” and before he can even finish his sentence properly you jump up, startling him slightly as he flinches back.

“And that is where you come in to teach me, guide me through the experiment” you plead but it sounds like he doesn’t really have an option, you’re practically telling him. He sighs but he has to give, how could he not when you're giving him your sweetest smile and when your eyes are practically begging him.

“I’m surprised you want to learn” he questions you “I thought you’d avoid anything that would have been forced upon you” he explains as he hands you an apron.

Your smile extends ear to ear as you take the apron from his hands, tying in behind your back you explain your sudden want to learn “Yes but I’m choosing to learn, this isn’t about adding another quality of a wife to my resume. This about extending my knowledge and as you said it is a basic necessity.”

Jisung only nods at your answer as he hands you another bowl, some ingredients already placed inside “follow after me” he says as he cracks an egg and pours it’s insides into the bowl and then turning to you he see you struggle, knocking the egg against the table softly you try and mimic his actions “Did the book not mention eggs?” he laughs and so does Daphne who observes close by as you send him glares that wish him death.

“Like this” he says as he places his hands over yours, guiding you but your eyes aren’t focused on the egg in your hold, you’re focused on Jisung who’s so close, too close. You feel his breath on the side of your neck and goosebumps arise on the surface of your skin as shivers are sent down your spine. The scent of cotton, jasmine and of course lavenders invade your senses and blur your mind. You can’t help but stare at Jisung, perfection personified as he concentrates on explaining how to assure no shell falls into the batter. Yet the words enter one ear and exit the other as you watch his lips move, your eyes stuck and it’s only when his eyes move up to meet yours does he also realise the little space between the two of you. His hands still holding onto yours, his eyes move down. Slowly they trace the features of your face, the bridge of your nose, the dip of your cupid’s bow and then they stop at your lips. His breathing halts, his heart skips beats as it dances in his chest and when he feels unbearable heat take over him he forces himself away from you. Quickly flinching back, his warmth leaves you, he clears his throat and turns from your gaze that still stares, he continues showing you what to do and no more words are exchanged as the heaviness in the air sets in.

Many weeks go by where you and Jisung spend all your mornings in the library, which had now become your favourite spot in the house, you look forward to picking up a new book every morning, look forward to watching Jisung so focused on his work, telling him all about what you’ve learnt and occasionally sparking up a debate but you also find yourself staring out the window wishing for the sun to only raise itself higher and higher as you wish for midday to arrive, to run away with Jisung down into the kitchen where he continues to teach you how to cook, some days he would take you into town to pick out fresh ingredients or some days into the drawing room where he attempts to teach you how to sow. After a few failed attempts, your patience wearing thin and much blood being drawn from your fingers, you give up on sewing however cooking is a much greater achievement and the outcome was worth every bit of it. The smile on Jisung’s face every time he’d taste something he’d liked, every time you remember a part of a recipe and every time he would sit down at the dinner table and Jeno or Jaemin would compliment your cooking. He felt immense pride in you and it fostered a love for cooking within you.

Other days when the weather prohibited it, Jisung would take you out into the lavender field. You’d sit in between the rows and rows of purple, picking at the prettiest ones.The sun high in the sky, august warmth embracing you as the wind blew over the roaring fields, dancing between your hair. “Look I learnt this from a book” you sit beside Jisung, his head snaps up and his attention is on your fingers now as they twirl the thin stems in and around each other to form a knot. “Purity, silence, devotion and grace are what a lavender symbolise” you begin to tell him “and you Jisung” you place the intertwined lavenders behind his ear, he’s visibly flustered as his cheeks turn hues of pink and it only urges you on “are exactly that” you whisper to him as if the lavenders had ears and could hear your confession, for these words are for Jisung’s only.

Jisung’s eyes widened as each word that was revealed to him, his heart thumping in his chest and his mind set on fire as chaos engulfed him. His thoughts scrambled and instantly his mind went to countless different possibilities as to what those words meant but looking up at you his mind cleared for he only saw beauty. The beauty your eyes held, as they sparkled infinitely each time they skimmed over the countless words on a book, the beauty your smile held when someone complimented your new found cooking skills, the beauty in your voice each time you called on him as the new found nickname “sungie” which caused his heart to melt, the beauty you held in the way you carried yourself never letting anyone put you down. Jisung adored you in every way, embers in his chest that grew into a flame, which spreads through his entirety burning all. A blissful pain sits at the core of him, aching, he longs for you but do you long for him? Is he but a fool to fall in love with a stranger, the stranger in the lavender fields. Is he a fool for falling in love with you? Is this even love? His eyes fixated on your lips, he examines the curve of them, the colour, their beauty. As if they were magnets he’s drawn to them, slowly inching himself forward, so close he could feel the warm air that made it past them.

So close and yet so far is he to you, the sweet smell of lavenders is dizzying, the sunlight burns your skin but against Jisung’s it only illuminates his, he glows. The urge to place your lips on top of his, eats away at your skin, the want crawls under and down your spine, shivers resonate throughout your body as he nears. The world falls away, the slight buzzing of bees fade, the tickles of the grass dissipate and you only feel Jisung. His presence, the brush of his knee against yours and the warmth that radiates off him. Your heart stops, you stop breathing, anticipating what’s about to happen next until suddenly Jisung’s head snaps to the right and reality comes flooding in as you hear both your names ringing and ripping through the air. “Jisung! Y/N!” Daphne shouts and Jisung jumps up answering for both of you “We’re coming!” Left completely stunned you sit there, mind in chaos as your embarrassment engulfs you. Your eyebrows furrowed, you think to yourself how you could allow for yourself to fall into his spell. What were you thinking? That’s the problem, around Jisung you can’t think, everything happens on pure instinct and desire. Then as if you had rewinded time, a shadow is casted over you, a hand is placed in front of you to take and as he did on that first day, he snaps you out of your daze. “Are you feeling well?” he asks in that same soft voice. Your hand twitches to move towards him and it takes everything in your power to stop it from falling into his grasp once again.

“Fine” it comes out much colder than you expected it to as you rise up to your feet on your own, his hand is left hanging awkwardly to which he slowly closes before placing it behind his head as he bites his bottom lip and your eyes can’t help but fall on them again, they which were so close and yet so far. “Let’s go” and this time you lead him out of the lavender field.

The walk back to the house is silent, the same awkwardness that hadn’t made an appearance in so long settles in the air, it’s thick and heavy and you can feel it weigh you down. Upon arriving back to the house, a carriage awaits outside, a military emblem on the back and your heart drops, eyes widen and your steps stop. “It couldn’t be” you let out at barely a whisper.

But the slightest sound from you is enough to have Jisung’s head snap up towards you, for he’s been waiting for you to make a sound, any sound to rid this atmosphere. "What is it?" He asks also hushed, his eyes follow yours and there it leads to the carriage, a smile rips through his face and he runs ahead.  Confused you rush your steps but the anxiety building up in your chest stays, the lump in your throat is still hard to swallow.

“Y/N!” Jaemin calls you whilst waving his hand eagerly, calling you to come quickly and as you step closer the constraining feeling in your chest dissipates as the figure that steps out of the carriage is an unknown one to you. You stand by Jaemin’s side, who radiates excitement off him and you can’t help but smile as the little boy in the picture is standing right before you, the same eager stance and pretty smile that even the sun envies. The man exists and immediately pulls Jeno into an embrace so tight and you swear you see Jeno’s eyes sparkle as tears threaten to fall. Jisung is much less subtle at concealing his tears, he sobs into the man’s shoulder and it’s only then you presume this is their father. Jisung’s eyes are red and he sniffles as his father let’s go of him and your heart clenches at his adorableness. Jaemin is as happy as ever, hugging his father as tight as ever, eyes closed in pure bliss. You’re smiling like a fool as the heartwarming scene unfolds in front of you, so busy looking at the happy smiles and the stray few tears that are still running down Jisung’s cheeks you don’t notice the new acquaintance step in front of you until he clears his throat and you jump to meet his gaze.

“You must be Y/N” he smiles extending his hand and you place yours in it, shaking it. “I’ve heard a lot about you in all my son’s letters” your eyes widen and your turn to the three boy, Jaemin with that damn smirk on his face, Jisung avoiding your eyes and as always finding his shoes much more interesting, thank god for Jeno who offers a comforting smile assuring it’s all good things. “Sir you’ve raised three fine men, who have all welcomed me” you bow your head in thanks and he smiles once again.

“I couldn’t possible take any credit for it, it’s all thanks to their mother and Daphne of course” he turns from you to her and she pulls him into an embrace “Thank you for looking after them” he says barely audible but Daphne catches it and just as softly replies “but of course”. As everyone heads inside you wait until Jisung is by your side to start heading in as well, “Crybaby” you whisper with a teasing smile you nudge him with your elbow, he scoffs as he’s wiping his tear stained cheeks but he can’t help smile back at you.

Seated around the dining table, as always by Jaemin’s side and opposite Jisung, their father sits at the head of the table and more food than ever is being served tonight in celebration. You’re much more quiet tonight despite Jaemin continuously making sure you feel involved in the conversation, you’re eternally grateful for him. “So Y/N, why did you leave home?” their father asks so casually it almost goes unnoticed by the boys but Jisung almost chokes on his water, Jeno’s eyes widen and Jaemin almost immediately tries to shut down the conversation “Father” he gives him a pointed look, jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed as he shakes his head.

“Jaemin, it's okay" you smile towards him, "freedom i suppose sir" you answer the question and Jisung's father squints his eyes, as he lets out a hum in acknowledgement of your answer. "Even after all your family has done for you?" He continues to question "you come from the family my late wife used to work under, am I correct?" And you simply nod "yes I do".

"The late General's daughter" he states "I wonder if he's turning in his grave at this moment" Jisung's grip on his silverware tightens and you notice his knuckles turn white and once again Jaemin's stare is begging his father to stop as Jeno looks over to see how affected you are by his cruel words. You don't falter though, you know what you've done can seem selfish but it was necessary "I'm sure he is" you laugh out "but he's always known I'm never one to listen" you continue to pick away at the food on your plate and you can feel all there gazes falls onto you, as you look up Jisung’s eye bore into yours as he mouths a soft “sorry” to you and you smile back at him shaking your head.

“I assume you’ve run from marriage” Jisung’s father starts up conversation again and you only nod as an answer “Are you against marriage?” he asks and it’s if he wants tears to fall from your eyes as he keeps pushing where he knows it’ll hurt. “Of course not but I would like to pursue a higher education or experience the world first” you explain, still keeping your calm.

“You think a woman is capable of doing such things?” he asks again and it’s this question that really makes your skin crawl and your jaw tighten. Questioning your methods of gaining freedom is one thing but looking down on all women and claiming them unable is one you can’t stand for. “I think we are very capable, I think the suffragettes have made that very clear and sir didn’t you work with the Weimar Government, they were the first government to allow women to vote I would think their initiative would have rubbed off on you” and he only smiles at your answer.

“I was stationed in Germany and worked under the Weimar Government up until their collapse, you’re correct” he begins to tell you “I have to tell you that I agree with your view, I’ve seen much that women are capable of doing” he says and your eyes widen at his words “I think what you did was brave and admirable, my three boys could learn from you, I hope you can lend Jisung some of your courage” he smiles at you and your jaw still hangs as does everyone else's around the table and as you look up to find pink hues invading Jisung’s cheeks once again, if you didn’t know any better you would have thought it were always like that regardless. You nod at their father before answering back “I think I’m the one who’s learning a lot form Jisung sir” and the shades of pink darken

The atmosphere had lightened again somewhat although the topic on war was not a light one at all, as their father expressed his worry about sending his three sons off to war and how in ruins the country would be again, worry sat in your chest. Jeno and Jaemin are strong all physically, emotionally and mentally but Jisung is the sweet boy who wouldn’t hurt a bee. “What do you think of the current situation of our country Y/N'' Jeno taking you out of your thoughts, you head snaps up to him “I think the war is unavoidable despite our economic stance, Germany has already invaded Czechoslovakia and it’s only time before they invade Poland meaning our involvement in the war is definite whether we want it or not'' the table falls silent as they process your words and it’s not until Jisung’s father begins to nod and expand on your thoughts but you zone out as you watch Jisung fiddle with the knotted lavenders you had gifted him and your lips can’t help but curve.

The next morning a book awaited you on your vanity, a scarlet red cover with gold print, you ran your fingers along. “Sonnets'' it read and as you flicked open to the first page, familiar handwriting appeared “A collection of my favourite - Jisung” a smile spread across your face as it usually did when your thoughts ran to Jisung. You sat down flicking to the first poem “Sonnet 18” a giggle escaped your mouth and like a schoolgirl already aware of the beauty Shakespear's arguably most famous sonnet holds, the giddy feeling of butterflies blooming caused your heartbeat to quicken and a heat to rise.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And too often is his gold complexion dimm’d:

Annotations surround the poem as Jisung highlights and picks out certain lines. The second line is underlined and next to it he writes “Though you are lovely, temperate is definitely up for debate” he teases and you scoff at his words. You read on and lines four and five are underlined and his annotation reads “The eye of heaven is you who shines gloriously throughout the day and yet too often you allow yourself to dim. Don’t.”

And every fair from fair sometimes declines,

By chance or natures changing course untrimm’d;

By thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

“You are my eternal summer, your beauty is one that isn’t possible to vanish, it’s infinite unlike summer which collapses in winter” you read on as lines nine and ten are underlined.

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

The the final annotation as the last three lines are highlighted, Jisung says “Your beauty shall remain eternal so long as my heart beats, so long as i live and breathe, so long as my eyes can see your beauty, I only seem to think of you now as i read this poem and in this poem the memory of you shall live on” you heart beats erratically in your chest, you’re breathless as his words halt your breathing. Forgetting such simple acts as thinking and even breathing seem to be a regular side effect in the presence of Jisung, just the mere thought of him. Your palms grow sweaty, your heart clenches reading over the words again and again, you pinch yourself. For this moment, seems like nothing but a dream, your heads in the cloud, you're living in the heavens. The feeling is suffocating, your own throat is closing in on you, the pain in your chest spreads like wildfire, your whole body aches with admiration for him. Yet the constant question looms over your head, what does he really mean by this? Is his feeling the same as yours? Or is he portraying the beautiful friendship you both have built over the weeks? One thing is sure and it’s that you can’t ruin that, can’t let the heavy air seep in once again and weigh you down.

The days folded out as normal, Jisung’s presence still as overwhelming as ever but you couldn’t help but find serenity in it, he was soft spoken yet his silence speaks the loudest for him, his grace and beauty as  were one to be envied by all but you were nothing more than grateful for being able to witness it day after day, it were as if he had walked out of your dreams. The stolen glances, lingering stares as he smiled or laughed, he stole your heart and he wasn’t even aware it was his anyways. Sitting opposite him, you stare not caring if he or anyone catches you for your far past the point of holding any shame and allowing your eyes to do as they please.

"I have something to announce" Jeno suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence, all eyes turn to him and he audibly gulps. You’ve never seen him so nervous, fiddling with his silverware you almost mistook him for Jisung. He clears his voice before speaking, taking in a deep breath he prepares himself for the words that are about to leave him, “I am to marry” he says quickly waiting for a response, an outroar, a gasp and maybe a few tears but none of them come.

“About time don’t you think” Jaemin laughs out causing the rest of the table to release small giggles at Jeno’s expense, “You have been all giddy and heart eyes at that girl in the village since we were all but five- OW" Jaemin's face twists in pain, hands rushing to his shin as he's cut off by a harsh kick. Jisung and you burst into laughter not being able to hold it in any longer.

"And what are you two laughing at" Jeno punches at Jisung’s shoulder, immediately causing him to halt his laughter as he rubs his shoulder “Well brother, it’s not like it is a secret. Even Y/N knows” and you giggle again as Jisung enlightens Jeno on his obvious swooning.

“What?” Jeno’s eyes widen as he turns to you and you can’t help but laugh even more. “We visited the village and your eyes were stuck, Jeno you walked straight into Jisung” you burst out laughing as you recall the memory. Once the laughter, the teasing, the amount of huffs that leave Jeno quiet down your left with comfort, a bliss that you’ve never felt before, a smile that just won’t leave your face. It’s a beautiful feeling and you wish to memorise it for if numbness overtakes your body, you can relive this exact moment of the solace you found in those around this table.

“Is that three out of the four of us in love?” Jaemin smirks as he lifts his glass to his lips, looking around the table, Jeno scoffs at his words but confusion is written all over you and Jisung. Did Jaemin know that your heart only seems to beat for Jisung? How did he know? Who was the other person? Was it Jaemin or Jisung? If Jisung, who did he love? The questions ran through your mind in circles and it only spewed more questions to follow, your head was spinning stuck in the spiral of curiosity, but curiosity always killed the cat.

But cats have 8 other lives right? That is what you had decided later that night, sat beside Jisung on the stone wall, letting curiosity take over you - slightly. Your legs dangled, swinging them back and forth, whilst Jisung’s gaze was set on the crashing waves of purple as the moon pulled them back and forth; yours were stuck on him. The moonlight illuminated, captured his beauty in a way the sun couldn’t, it seemed the goddess of the moon saw greater beauty in Jisung than Apollo could ever begin to understand.

“I could not fail to realise that sonnet 23 was not amongst your favourite” your eyes darting out towards the fields as his turn to you, “It’s one of my favourites” you tell him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint but do you not think it’s a bit cliche” he laughs and your eyebrows shoot up in slight disbelief “and sonnet 18 is not” you scoff, finally meeting his eyes.

“Sonnet 18 is beautiful” he argues and he swings into you, nudging you slightly, rolling your eyes you nudge him back “Sonnet 23 is just as or dare I say more” and he smiles slightly, eyes turning back to the night sky, the clouds running over the moon and Jisung is left amongst the stars. “How so?” he dares to question.

“It is, for one, far more romantic” you begin “the thought of one loving you with so much passion, so unconditionally that it can not even be professed by words yet the love they feel is so strong they need an escape, to tell that person what they can not truly express fully, to let them show you how much they love you. To hear with eyes as Shakespear so beautifully put it” you nudge him again and he looks down at you, a smile as radiant as the sun,moon and stars combined graces you and again Jisung has stolen your heart in complete silence

“Yet what I love about Sonnet 18 is that it is not too romantic, that the love that Shakespear professes can be for a lover or a friend, he speaks of all the imperfections of summer yet still he loves it, he describes the person he loves as someone who defies all the imperfections for in his eyes they are perfect imperfections when it comes to them” he nudges you back with a slight giggle but you can’t return his happiness for you have been stung as his words seep into your mind.

“Oh for a friend” you whisper, he hears your words but not the sadness behind them as he continues with that bright smile “and that is why it was so perfect to give to you” his words are daggers to the heart, piercing through, it shatters and the fine pieces scatter throughout you and the sadness seeps through every fibre, cell and atom of your body.

“Are you feeling well?”he asks and worry sweeps the smile off his face as he finds the glossiness of your eyes, the slight redness as well as the unusual silence from you. “Fine” you answer jumping off the stone wall, “Just tired” you say looking out to the goddess of the moon one last time, unable to turn and look at the art she admired most. “Goodnight Jisung” you say as you turn back to the house, not sparing him a glance for he stole your heart and then broke it. 

Though that night your tears mixed with moonlight until Morpheus took you to dream and then the next morning tears mixed with sunlight as Apollo pulled his golden chariot, with swollen eyes and a throbbing head you promised this wouldn’t affect the beautiful friendship that had bloomed. Jisung may not love you the way you would like but he still loved you, as a friend. The mere thought of the word stung, another aching rippled through you and your bones quacked.

Many dusks and dawns had passed and since,you’ve managed to create some distance between you and Jisung but as once said distance makes the heart grow fonder and you curse whoever uttered such truth. For every stolen glance and accidental touch seemed to make your dormant heart beat with every intent of being heard as it rose to your throat, suffocating you.

Jeno’s upcoming wedding being the greatest of all excuses to run away from the burning presence of Jisung, for you would flee to the village with Daphne and pick out materials, help Jeno’s fiance pick flowers, handwrite invitations with Jeno and accompany Jaemin on whatever errands he had been sent to do. No one questioned how you decided to spend your time, other than of course Jaemin who couldn’t help but let his curiosity lead the words that spewed out of him, to which you told him he’d regret someday.

“Just tell me Y/N” he groans as he carries the large basket of apples “Why spend your time with me instead of Jisung” he continues to pursue the answers you deny him of.

“Maybe because, and I dare to say, I like your company more” you pinch his cheek and laugh at the pout that forms on his face “What answer are you looking for Jaems, what would you have me say?”

“I want you to say you are helplessly in love with my brother who is just as in love with you however both of you are too busy quoting literature that is up for interpretation rather than professing your feelings because you lack the courage to do so” you freeze at his words and he also comes to a halt, turning towards you his eyes, sympathetic “you both are as obvious as Jeno” he lets out a small laugh.

“He does not love me Jaemin” your voice stern as you try to convince one who believes in fairytales, your steps quicken and he chases after you “and how exactly do you know?” he questions, curiosity endless.

“He said so, he said he gifted me Sonnet 18 as a friend.” You scoff at the absurd word that causes so much pain and you say it with spite everytime.

“Like I said he lacks courage and as my father said you, Y/N, can help him gain it” he tells you, eyes wide with hope and you admire Jaemin for being a hopeless romantic and you only hope he meets someone who completely fulfills his ideology of love.

“I don’t think I possess such courage anymore” you break it to him for Jisung has broken your heart once, how can you have the courage to allow him the chance to do it again.

Jeno’s wedding arrived much sooner than expected, as the weeks rushed past in much haste as the many busy bodies prepared for the beautiful evening and as hard as you tried to separate yourself from Jisung, the universe liked to disrupt those plans. To the place it all started, so close yet so far apart, you stood rows away from Jisung picking only the prettiest lavenders as per Jeno’s request. The air was thick and heavy despite the August breeze that ran through the fields, an unfamiliar heaviness sat between you two for even as strangers you were far more comfortable. Maybe it’s due to the curiosity you held back then, for the boy in the lavender field, beauty that wasn’t done justice by the word but now that you know him, adore him and are in love with him and now that your heart belongs to him but his not to yours. There’s a void left for the seeping awkwardness to fill, an uneasiness sat in your gut and every moment was excruciating to bare as your heart pains at every beat that belongs to him who does not seem to care.

“Lavenders wouldn’t be my first pick for a wedding” he speaks up first, the silence with you was something he wasn’t used to, you always made sure to replace it with continuous talking and contagious laughter and now that you weren’t, it didn’t feel right to him but you only nod in response not entertaining his thoughts any further. Jisung preferred silence, his thoughts more coherent, his emotions understandable, the silence was comfortable and not overwhelming but with you he couldn’t stand it, mind always wondering what you were thinking, what you were feeling, he needed to know. 

So he carries on speaking, “If it were up to me, Irises and carnations” he expects an interrogation, your endless curiosity asking why that would be his pick but it never comes. So he continues speaking, giving you the answer you didn’t ask for “Irises mean faith, fitting for a lifelong vow” he laughs as he looks over to you stoic expression, cutting off his soft laughter he again begins to speak “and carnation, white ones that symbolise-”

“Eternal love” you cut him off, turning to him, finally speaking yet your tone is monotonous and there is no emotion evident on your face. There’s slight fear in him and it rises, a lump forming in his throat that he can’t quite seem to swallow “Exactly” he choked out, voice strained.

You let out a breath that seemed to be weighing you down, you couldn’t let him continue talking about the meaning behind the flowers, your heart couldn’t take it for aching stops momentarily and instead it flutters and swoons across your chest but then reality hit and it shatters all over again, the pain shooting through your bloodstream.

“Are you feeling well?” he asks as he always does and you answer “Fine” as you always do, even though you both know it’s a lie but he doesn’t push any further as always. The longing feeling for you to look at him and spill all your worries and feelings to him is so great but he doesn’t want to push you to nor does he expect you to trust him with that vulnerability when he himself does not have the courage to do the same back to you.

“I’m going to leave after Jeno’s wedding” you announce working up the little courage you have left, if you say it out loud then you’ll have to follow through. “Thank you for everything” you brace yourself to meet his eyes once more as you turn. “What? Why?” concern so evident in the way his voice wavers, eye glossed over as tears threaten to fall.

“I left to seek my own happiness in life, to make a mark on this Earth yet instead I ran from relying on my family to relying on you and yours” again your voice is completely void of emotions, yet every part of your body was screaming. Longing for the warmth, solace and peace you had found here and it’s at this point you curse yourself for memorising that bliss for all you will do is miss it.

“Did you not feel happiness here?” he screams out, harsher than he expected as he voice comes out rough and broken and you stand there eyes wide for this was the first time the pure,silent and serene boy that stands in the lavender fields has allowed so much emotion to course through his body and you can tell by the way he shakes, the way he struggles to breath and the shock that immediately washed over him upon hearing his own voice raised “I’m sorry” he mumbles in a heavy exhale.

“Thank you for everything Jisung” you offer him a smile as you leave, avoiding his question, leaving him standing alone in the lavender fields.

Leaving the basket of lavenders with Jeno, you rush up the stairs and only when behind the safety of your door do you allow the tears to come streaming down your face, sobs escaping and you hold your mouth to conceal them as you take deep shaky breaths to steady your breathing. Your whole body aches and shakes as it mours the end of your stay, the tears cloud your vision and as you lay down to ease the heartbeat in your head, you cry yourself into a slumber. Even as the dreams swirl around you, pulling you into the unconscious, reality never truly slips away, it haunts you as even in the world you build you can’t stray away from it. The ability to dream of anything further isn’t a possibility, he doesn’t love you and that’s the reality. Why bother dreaming of something that isn’t meant to be. Yet you can’t help but dream of him. His eyes, his smile, his warmth, the pink dust that always decorates his cheeks, his laugh and his existence.

In your days you are held hostage by the daydreams, the what ifs. It felt like you had loved him in every lifetime, you wonder if any had got it right? Had any been loved by him? Your body lies stiff, falling in and out of consciousness but your mind never leaves him. Days go by but time becomes nothing but a construct, eating only becomes a chore.

“Y/N?” a soft voice calls as the door narrows open, a steady stream of gold shining in. You don't move, your head feeling like it's weighed down but you can easily identify the soft voice that speaks. "I brought you something to eat" the footsteps near you, the heavy thuds vibrating through your head. Your eyes peek open to meet Jaemin who crouches down beside you. He moves the few stray strands of hair behind your ear, noticing the wet glimmer of your cheeks he wipes away the tears that stain them.

"What's wrong?" He whispers as if any harsher tone would break you, as if you weren't already broken. You shake your head as your only reply, voice too weak and broken to speak up. You would love to talk to Jaemin, to spill all your worries and heartache but this is a pain too painful to speak of. His hands hold onto your cheeks wiping away any of the stray tears that still fall. His warmth is comforting but it only makes you yearn for Jisung’s more.

Jaemin doesn't leave you that day, he sits by your side in silence. He holds your hand and wipes away your tears, he doesn't attempt to mend your heart, he just sits beside you as it cries out the pain. "It will heal, it will mend itself" he whispers to you as you drift off into the unconscious once again.

It’s the constant knocking at your door that drags you out of the depths of your slumber, pulling you back, the light that streams in as the sun is about to set and you wonder how long you have slept, what time it was and what day it is. Then another knock calls your attention from the window and Daphne steps in “Y/N” she says and her voice is high in surprise as she examines the puffy redness around your eyes. “I was expecting you to be already awake, it is almost time to head to the wedding” she chooses to ignore the wet stains on your silk pillow, choosing to bite her tongue. You choose not to answer her back afraid your voice was raspy and would break, you crawl towards the edge of the bed and swing your legs over as you make your way to the chair that neatly holds your gown for the night, the night that has finally arrived,your last night.

You can see her face change, each one expressing the internal turmoil within her as she questions whether or not to say something. “Just say it Daphne '' you sigh out in a weak smile as you change into the many layers that need to be placed under the gown.

“Ah well” she begins nervously as she fiddles with her loose strings of her apron, she stutters and stumbles over her words but you’ve been taught patience by Jisung as he’d do the same.You smile at the memory of him stuttering, blush across his cheeks as he got nervous causing him to stumble over his words more. You loved seeing him so flustered, loved seeing him progressively become so comfortable around you he never stuttered, became so confident and articulate it was as if he became another person but the same dust of pink never faded but the more you think of him the more it pains and your heart swells as it aches. “You see y/n” she finally spits out as if she had been wrestling the words “If this is your last night, would you not want to leave with a loving memory?” she asks nervously. 

“So it seems word has travelled” you let out a small laugh as you turn to her to pull the strings of your gown and as her hands move to tie knots she laughs as well “Nothing gets past me” and her nervousness visibly dissipates. No more words are exchanged as she helps you ready for tonight, no more words are needed as she sees you slip into the depths of your mind, thinking of what your next act is.

As she places the same pearl necklace you wore the day you came here around your neck, clasping it, she finally turns to leave and through the mirror you see her hesitate but she turns back around a smile across her face “It was a pleasure to meet you ma’am” she says with teary eyes “Y/N” you correct her as you rise quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around her and from the corner of your eye you see Jisung standing at the end of the hallway, witnessing the goodbye he run back down stairs. You saw the glossiness of his eyes and though you would love to leave as a happy memory, would he allow it?

You nervously make your way to the drawing room, there he sits in a black suit, his hair neatly styled yet it looks not much different to everyday. He should not look this good but he does because he is the epitome of beauty. He is beauty personified. You let out a deep breath before you step into his line of view, preparing yourself for whatever is to come next. “Jisung” you call softly but he refuses to look up at you, you can hear him sniffle and his breathing is heavy and you almost could trick yourself into believing he loved you the way you loved him. You sit beside him and take his hand in yours, rubbing small soothing circles by the knuckle of his thumb you attempt to speak, “I am leaving” you choke out,the words are stuck in your throat and he rips his hands away from yours, turning completely with his back towards you. You sigh once again, “Let’s me leave with good memory” you beg, voice small and shaky. This was not the y/n Jisung first met, not the y/n he knows now and definitely not the y/n he fell in love with for you were never one to speak so quietly, yet here you are broken. So he puts away his own selfishness to feel sadness, anger or whatever pulsing emotion that runs course throughout his body.

He turns back to you, eyes glossy and a pout on his lips as he raises a long string of black silk. “I cannot tie it” his voice breaks slightly and you can’t help but smile at his cuteness. You take the silk from his hand and wrap it against his neck, slowly weaving it in and out of itself, you form a knot. “Learn this from a book?” he teases and you can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes. Falling back to where you were with Jisung was never hard, falling in love with him all over again was never hard. “my father taught me” you say as you pull the silk slightly causing his head to jolt forward. A smile perks at his lips as he lets out air from his nose as a form of laughter and you don't realise the lack of space between you two until you feel it brush against your skin and you near closer, eyes drawn to his lips. Your breathing stops and your heart sporadically jumps around in your chest, beating louder than ever.

Jisung’s eyes are closed as he waits for your lips to be placed upon his but they never come and his eyes jump open at the sound of Jaemin’s voice, your warmth escaping him. So close and yet so far, his eyes land on you who’s now moved as far as possible from him. “Y/N, do you know how to tie a tie?” he walks in looking down at the balck silk he holds around his neck but he cuts himself off as his eyes rise to find you and Jisung awkwardly sitting beside each other. “Oh am I interrupting?” he asks in a chuckle as he raises an eyebrow and you shoot up onto your feet, making your way towards him “No not at all” you wave your arms as if it would convince Jaemin. You grab onto both ends of the silk strand, repeating the same movements as earlier and looking down at the silk you can practically feel Jaemin’s smile that beams from above. You weave the string in and out of itself and pull tight around his neck causing Jaemin’s head to pull back “OW '' he huffs out in a pout, you pat down his tie and with a smile as gleaming as his was a mere moments ago, you apologise. 

“Oh y/n you know how to tie a tie, thank god” Jeno rushes in with his father soon after him both holding the same black silk around their neck “Does nobody in this house know how to tie a tie” you laugh in disbelief. “Our mother used to do them,” Jeno whispers as your hands make their way up to form the same knot you’ve made twice already. He thanks you silently with a sweet smile, those crescent moons you adore showing up.You move on to their father, tying his tie neatly and much more carefully than the rest. “Thank you for everything, y/n” he bows his head to you and you whisper “It’s nothing” shyly. “It’s been a pleasure having you become a part of our family” he continues and his words are like a stake to your heart, the same aching reappearing as nothing fails to remind you of your departure.

“Thank you for welcoming me bu-t'' you're cut off instantly 

“no buts y/n, you are family” Jeno interrupts and if it was anyone else you don’t think those words would have held such meaning for Jeno is a silent lover, showing his affection through sweet smiles, concerned looks and kind gestures; he was never one for words of affirmation. So you smile, ignoring the tears that prick at your eyes, ignoring the deep breaths that leave Jisung and the solemn sadness on Jaemin’s face.

“We need to go” Jaemin looks down at his pocket watch, as always sensing the tension in the room and ready to dissipate it, he urges everyone out the door and as you’re about to step out, a warmth engulfs you as Jisung catches your hand in his. Turning back you are met with a smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes that hold a sense of sadness as they glimmer in the setting sun.

Hours after the sun had sunk into the horizon, the moon well into its reign, music rang through the center of town as everyone gathered to celebrate the new chapter of Jeno’s life. A ceremony so beautiful, you were sure you witnessed true love when Jeno’s eyes set on his bride that walked the altar.

After all the tears, it was finally time for the bubbling of champagne to intoxicate your bloodstream and to allow the music to take control of every swayed movement of your body. Standing under the yellow dimmed lights, Jisung glew a gold you didn’t know existed but easily was the prettiest you had ever seen. His cheekbones high and lips painted pink, golden flute in hand and silk tie loosened you could easily say he was the prettiest here, outshining all. For Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty lived through him, simple acts such as greeting guests left you stunned. Eyes chasing every movement of his, from the way his hands moved as he spoke, to the way he smiled once seeing an old friend, the way he laughed softly in conversation and when his eyes travelled back to you when he thought you weren't looking.

And to pull you out of that trance was none other than Jaemin, “Would you and Jisung stop exchanging lover eyes and dance already” he whispers as he places himself beside you, you scoff at his words and slightly nudge him with your elbow.

“Are you so bored that your eyes follow mine?” you question and his simple and instant “Yes” make your eyes roll as far as possible but you can’t help but smile. “When will you find your own love story? This is one hopeless”

“So when were you planning to tell me you were leaving after tonight” his words don’t come as a surprise, nothing goes past Jaemin but it still doesn’t fail to make your every movement halt as guilt overtakes you, turning to him you begin to explain “I was going to tell you as soon as the night was over, it was unexpected I promise” you say softly.

“I don’t suppose i can change your mind in any way?” he asks hopefully, still with the knowledge he wouldn’t be able to. You shake your head slowly, unable to say the words that will so obviously ruin the both of you but Jaemin is never one to sit in sadness, always being his priority to make you feel better. 

“Would you allow me this first dance?” he bows down asking for your hand and with that you place yours in his, placing a soft kiss to the knuckles he pulls you into the center of the floor. Legs moving to the beat, Jaemin’s hand on your waist he guides you through the waltz, breaths heaving and smiles plastered on your face he bends down once more to place a kiss on your knuckles as the music dies down declaring the end of the dance, a sad smile spreads across his face and he whispers “Goodbye” against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes who hold nothing but despair. Yet the hardest is to come when you turn and automatically your eyes find Jisungs, who just happened to be looking your way.

You offer him a smile before heading towards him “And why are you not dancing, I’m sure plenty of girls are just about dying to be your first dance” you tease him and he laughs along with you, hands rising they scratch the back of his neck as he prepares to confess to you “I actually do not know how to dance” he spits out fast hoping you don't catch his words but you do. Eyes widening and mouth agape, you let out a gasp 

“Jisung you do not know how to-” you're cut off by his hand on your mouth as he looks around to see if anyone has heard the sentence about to leave you. 

“Quietly, I think the whole of London can hear you” he says in a whisper still looking around. Removing his hand, you roll your eyes at his antics.

“Let me teach you” you whisper back and he turns to you, eyebrow raised as he assesses how good of a dancer you could be.

“I am not entirely sure, who did you learn from? A book?” he teases, still completely in character until you shove him and his laughter comes spilling out “You used the joke once already” you roll your eyes 

“I was taught by trainers actually, do you forget I was to be wed” you scoff at his assumption and rise to your feet, hand extended for Jisung to take. He stares at you, watches the way the light bounces off your skin causing you to glow, your eyes glimmer, smile bright and the confidence and charm you carry in inexplicably attractive as you stand under the moon, offering to be Jisung’s first dance and it’s here he decides you’ll be his last.

The moment his hand is in yours, you drag him straight to the crowd, the music is quick to start and you waste no time in giving out instructions. “Place your hand on my waist” you order

“Your what?” Jisung’s eyes are wide as he cluelessly asks

“My waist” you repeat again, emphasizing each word and you drag his hand up and place it on your waist for yourself. Then putting your own hand on his shoulder, you pull him a little closer. “Just follow my lead” you reassure him as you witness the petrified look on his face.

“Left foot forward” you say to him as you move yours back, “Right foot forward, feet together” you continue to guide him through the dance as you spin around the room, ‘Now left foot back, right foot back, now feet together” you repeat the sequined dance around the room, music thumping through your body and you convince yourself it’s that you feel and not the heavy beats of your heart as the space between you and Jisung seems to close more and more. As he leans in so close you can feel the air that leaves him, fanning over you. You look up and his eyes are set on you, only adoration is held in them and Jisung thinks it’s now or never as he tries to fully close the gap between you two, to place his lips on yours but then you let go, head turning to the right “Now we switch you” you say as you land into another man's arms, repeating the same steps you did with Jisung moments ago with another. So close and yet so far is all Jisung can think whilst his eyes watch you twirl about the room.

Once finally back in his arms, the music seizes and he’s forced to remove himself from you. You can’t help but smile at him as he looks down at you, breathing heavily with a flush of pink to his cheeks yet he seems to be gleaming in the buzzing sensation of a waltz. The air is heavy with sweat and alcohol, the room is filled with chatter and loud laughs but that all falls away once you look at Jisung. So you dance to every song as if you were the only two people to exist, for this was your last night and this was your last dance.

Endless glasses of champagne later your dancing feet carry you outside, the cool summer nights air washes over you, clearing your mind of the foggy mist of alcohol yet the coolness of the moonlight is overwhelmed by the warmth of Jisung’s presence as he stumbles next to you, tripping over his own legs he lands in your arms. “I think you drank a little too much” you laugh down at him.

“No I am perfectly fine” He quickly stabilizes himself, straightening out his clothes and you can only smile as he shakes off your support. “If you say so” you turn to the night sky, looking up to the moon who you haven't had the courage to face since. The wind rushing past you, crickets croaking and the stars blazing across the sky, your legs about to give way as the alcohol circulates your body, you find purchase on a stone bridge, Jisung following soon after you. The water trickles down under you, the calming sound washes over you and the solace you so missed seems to make an appearance once again as you allow yourself to surrender to Jisung’s presence. Silence sits between the two of you but it’s not the one you wish to fill, insead you choose to let it engulf you not wanting words to taint this moment. Your last moment.

Jisung however doesn’t think he can hold it in anymore, the liquid courage is just about enough for him to declare his roaring love for you, a flame that won’t go out no matter how far he pushes the idea of you away. He wasn’t sure if this was love but the ache in his chest all these days proved it could be nothing but love. The longing to be by your side as you found happiness, found your own way into this world and to watch you become who you want, is unbearably strong. This is his only chance before the goddess of the moon takes you away with her, for when the sun rises, you'll set into nothing but a memory. So here Jisung turns to you, staring at your beautifully carved features, moonlight highlighting every perfection; deep breaths he calms his nerves. Adrenaline rushing through every nerve, he finally builds the courage and out the words he never knew would feel so good to pronounce “Y/N I love you” it comes out in a whisper but by the way your eyes widen, breathing halts, Jisung knows you’ve heard.

“Jisung you are drunk” you laugh off

“Drunk lies are sober truths” he says in all seriousness, his eyes are begging for yours to turn to him and so you give in to their silent cry. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, for I thought soulmates were nothing but a fairytale until mine spoke to me upon laying eyes on you. I denied my feelings towards you, for I didn’t know if it was love I felt for you or not but I do. Love, adoration, affection and warmth. The moon only looks beautiful with you under it, the sun only shines with you beside me.” he professes and the sincerity in his voice strucks you, for every fiber of your being longs for these exact words but can you believe him?

He inches closer, his scent and warmth trapping you in a trance and you can’t find it in yourself to back away as he moves towards your lips, his breath mixing with your own, the flush off his cheeks that are illuminated by the moonlight. Everything is perfect except he’s drunk. Though your heart screams for you to close the gap, place your lips on his and kiss him until he’s breathless, your head scream the opposite, move back, wait till the morning when his head is in the right place, don’t allow him to make a mistake that’ll hurt you and when were you ever one to not listen to your mind. “You are drunk”  you whisper to him, so close he can almost feel your lips move against his, flinching back, ignoring the cry of your heart that desires nothing more than to feel Jisung’s confession. Jisung’s eyes open to find you pulled away, for once again he was so close yet so far.

“We should return” you jump up, step fastening back to the crowds of people who were still dancing and laughing. Jisung’s hurried footsteps rush beside you, his hand holding onto your wrist, he pulls you into him. Arms wrapping around you so tight, he’s afraid you’ll pull away and that he’ll lose you. You already pulled away from him once, you’re not sure you have the power in you to do it a second; so you let him hold you. His face hidden into the crook of your neck, he speaks into your skin 

“Love for you fades the exhausting hours till Kingdom come, for even then my soul only speaks of you, my heart only beats for you. Let me love and let me give, for both are infinite” he confesses once again.

Your arms instantly wrap around his figure, you allow your love to course through your body to his, you hope he can feel your heartbeat, the steady pace that keeps you alive for his existence, and him only. For without him what was the purpose of living? You stand there under the moonlight, red strings wrapped around you, Eros’s arrow shot through you, and hold onto each other.

Walking back, hand in hand, smiling like fools. The air smells sweeter, the world seems brighter as your heart skips a beat every now and then “In all honesty” Jisung breaks the blissful silence, his voice deep and smooth and it sends shivers down and through you just as it did the first day. Once your eyes are on him, giving him your undivided attention he continues “I lacked the courage to gift you Sonnet 23 but I wanted to” he tells you “Promise” he makes sure you believe his words and you can’t help but smile.

“You still lack courage, this is the alcohol’s courage” you tease him, swinging your arms back and forth as you walk on. He giggles at your comment because he knows it’s true, if it wasn’t for the liquid courage he doesn’t think he would have been able to confess to you but he’s glad he has because if he hadn’t, would he ever get the chance to?

“So will you stay?” he asks, voice hopeful and eyes pleading as he pouts, in hope it would convince you but you didn’t need anymore convincing, for if you want to follow happiness and happiness just so happens to follow Jisung, who were you to seek for more elsewhere. “Perhaps” a smirk makes it way up your lips as you give him vague answers. “I will take that as a yes” he laughs out, holding onto your hand a little bit tighter, to ensure you really weren’t going anywhere.

Love is a complex feeling, one that causes an unbearable amount of pain; as if your chest had been slit open, heart pulled out and crushed. An aching pain resonates throughout your whole body, endless tears and you don’t think you can live to see another sunrise yet it’s euphoric in every way. From the tingling sensation at just the sight of your love, the shivers, the heat that takes over, the trance you left in as their words hypnotise you, the warmth of their presence and sweet scent. In Jisung you found peace,solace,serenity and love.

“Jaemin” Jisung calls out as he can just about make him out in the distance “Y/N said she has decided to stay” he shouts out like a child, excited he’s jumping up and down and you find yourself smiling and laughing again, for with Jisung it’s the only thing you seem to be able to do. Yet as you draw closer to Jaemin and the guests he happens to be wishing a farewell too, your smile and heart both drop.

“Y/N” one of the two men calls out as your figure becomes more apparent to them, disbelief held in their voice as they call out to you. Jisung and Jaemin eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes widening as they wonder how you are acquainted.

“How do you know our y/n?” Jaemin asks, always being the first one to dissolve the awkward silences, the men are taken aback clearly by the way their jaws hang slightly.

“She is our sister” the taller stutters out, your blood rushes cold as the words leave his lips, what would happen now? Would they allow you to just roam free? You thought for a second before you mentally scolded yourself, they would never allow that. They will force you back. “I am not returning” you spit out, not beating around the bush, you get straight to the point.

“But you must, mother is left worried" he tries to grab onto your wrist but you move back not allowing him to get a hold on you.

"Worried for me? Or that the season is almost finished?" You question him and guilt is evident in his eyes as your question takes him aback.

"Don't be silly" your younger brother tries to calm you, "we just want you home" he tries to convince you.

"I am perfectly fine on my own" you stand your ground even though you see the frustration in your older brother, creep closer and closer to the surface "I have no intention of returning" you continue to press forward.

"Do you not feel shame, what would father have to say?" He dares ask. Shame? The word linger in your head for you to wonder if your brother truly knows the definition of the word or were all those years at Oxford a waste. For how had this brought shame upon you or your father, how does a want for purpose,happiness and freedom lead to shame?

"For if father was alive, this problem wouldn't have occurred. He would have listened" you hissed, jaw tight as you teeth clenched and the words slipped out through the small cracks.

"How naive of you to think'' he laughs and finally latches onto your wrist, holding tightly he's prepared to drag you to the carriage until another holds you back. Jisung’s hand holds onto your arm, pulling you back, looking back you don’t think you have never seen such fierce eyes. A red you never thought you’d see engulf Jisung, he’s not prepared to let you go. "Let go" your brother's voice is stern as he clenches his jaw yet Jisung doesn't budge.

"Jisung this isn't our place" Jaemin whispers, defeat in his voice and he is right. What say do they have in this? If you don’t even have a choice, who are they to decide but then again you are certain a man’s opinion will most definitely be heard by your brother over your own anyday. “Let go of her,” Jisung threatened.

Your brother couldn’t help but scoff at his words “She belongs to me, I am her blood and she holds mine and my father’s name” his grip tightening around your wrist as he pulls you towards him once more, your eyebrows furrow and you wince in slight pain, Jaemin instinctively flinches forward before stopping himself, getting involved will just make it worse he reminds himself. You smile at him weakly in hopes it can put him at ease but as both your arms are being held hostage, both cuffs tightening as the seconds go by not one daring to back down.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone” Jisung spits back “She is free to do as she pleases and she chooses to stay here” he continuously argues in hope of changing his mind , yet what can he possibly do? Now that they have found you, what is left for you to do? They will not let you live on how you wish, they will not leave without you and even if they didn’t take you tonight, they will come back for you. It’ll only cause chaos, you will again become a burden on someone else. “You do not own her” he repeats.

The words you so despise form on your tongue and as you open your mouth to say them, Jisung’s eye beg you not to. He knows what's to come and even as every ounce of your being screams and cries as the words are spoken, you let them leave you regardless. “Let go Jisung” voice weak, shaking.

“But you said you would stay” his voice shaky, encased in sadness, his grip weakens but his hold stays, unable to let you go once he’s finally got you but you were always a dream to him, one that never seemed quite real and though you mixed with reality, almost coming true, he was but a fool to believe you could be his.

“I said maybe” your voice quiet, breaking a promise you didn’t make, breaking his heart and breaking yours that was just put back together.

“She said for you to let go” Your brother interrupts, a smirk on his face that Jaemin has a dying need to punch off but he retains himself. Jisung lets go of you hesitantly, his hand still lingering onto the skin of your forearm and you take in his touch one last time. He watches you leave, tears falling from his eyes for you were so close yet so far.

The tears from that night, months ago, have yet still to dry for every living and breathing moment is lived in agony, longing turning into nothing but numbness as it engulfed your being and became you. Days and nights merged, smiles are a forgotten act for it felt awkward even attempting. The large manor is silent, it perfectly resembles the void in your chest. You live as a ghost, sleepless nights and empty days your mind always occupied with the thought of Jisung.

His eyes that held the universe, his warmth the sun envied, his smile were solace was found, his laughter that was contagious, voice that was soothing, beauty unmatched, the gods were both proud and envious of their greatest creation. The years went by and yet the image of his is as clear as ever, preserved in your memories, you live on in your dreams that can’t escape reality. So close and yet so far from each other.

You sit in the empty rooms, walls bare for the art never compared to Jisung’s beauty, you never found art that could express the definition of art as well as Jisung did. Each time looking at Jisung you found a new feature to adore, hidden beauties that appeared when the moonlight hit his skin, features highlighted by the golden rays of the sun. No art seemed to do that, no art seemed worthy of showcasing.

Your library remains empty, clearing it out of all books, you couldn't bear to look at one again. For everyone of them taunted you with the memory of him. The way he used to sit in the center of the room, arms sprawled out on the desk, his head so close to the paper as he would write. Your eyes would follow every one of his movements, so distracted you would forget about the heavy book in your hand. Yet now with a book in hand, your eyes search for distraction. Yearning to find him, to make the pink blush, that you so missed, appear as he couldn't take your stare any longer. The adrenaline of when his eyes suddenly come up to meet yours, the scrambling of his when you catched his stare. You missed it all.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day” the performer begins, as you sit around the large table for dinner. Your every movement halts as the words leave his mouth, your mind runs back to the lavender fields, into the small room at the back of the house, finding the scarlet red book. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate” he continues on but no you are not temperate. Your heart aches, your eyes sting and a wave of nausea over takes you. Your fist smash into the table, legs standing up, you push the heavy velvet chair back

“Stop!” you shout, voice hoarse and broken, you can’t help the tears that roll down your cheek. You can’t help the way your whole body shakes upon hearing those words, you can’t help but miss him. The whole room stares at you, a heavy silence settles, the only sounds are your whimpers as you sob in your palms, falling to your knees. Their eyes lingered, terrified. No one dared to speak to you first, let alone the events of the night. Afraid they would cause you to break down once more but they failed to see it was they, who stole happiness away from you, stole freedom and ripped your heart out of your chest. You wandered aimlessly through the many halls, staring out of windows you wanted the sun rise and fall, watched the goddess of the moon shine down on the earth yet neither held the beauty they did when Jisung was by your side.

Summer has come to find you once again, those who say time heals have never been broken. Time doesn’t heal. Time forgets, the world may move on but you do not, you cannot share the same ecstasy the birds sing, the happiness in summer flowers, For now you hate flowers, you hate how their beauty and meaning are only reminders of your longing.

“How about lavenders for the drawing room ma’am, I’m told they are your favourite” the maid asks, her mission to make you smile, to rid you of the constant tear stained cheeks; nothing but a failure is awaiting her. Just the mere thought of lavenders causes your skin to crawl, for nothing symbolises him more than the vibrant violet. Yet you turn to her, a weak smile and you nod because maybe the scent will help ease your heart and just maybe you’ll find serenity in them once more.

Though days were long, summer left in a hurry for now autumn was here once more. The leaves had already begun to brown and the vase filled with lavenders, which sat upon the grand piano, had wilted now - their scent and comfort decaying with them.

And soon followed the day, the world knew would soon be coming, had arrived upon us, September 1st 1939:

“we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” you read Winston Churchill’s words in the papers, war has arrived. The heavy ring sits on your finger as you stare out the window reminiscing the day you were watching the carriage be prepared and though it is your two brothers and the Earl’s son leaving you can’t help but let your mind imagine Jeno,Jaemin and Jisung, For the war will take them further away from you, to barren land filled with death, guns pointed at them, bombs dropping at anytime. Though the war has imprisoned many,taken from others, you thank it’s timing for it has liberated you momentarily. The Earl’s son waved goodbye to you and though you raise your hand to send him off to a war you’re not sure he’ll return from, you have no intention of calling him your fiance whilst he is gone and if he returns you have no intention of calling him your husband. You pity him in that memory.

“Ma’am” a voice calls out to you, you don’t recognise who it is for every voice sounds the same but regardless it pulls you back to the world of the present for the war was already well into its sixth year. Though your body is here, your heart and soul never left Jisung for he had stolen that long ago. You turn to find a small envelope, blue like the ones that found you happiness. “To y/n'' the handwriting is familiar but to you all letters were painted the way Jisung’s hand did, for your eyes can simply not forget but it is what the letter contained that brought a soul into your lifeless shell.

As an unperfect actor on the stage

Who with his fear is put beside his part,

Sonnet 23 with annotations is what your eyes fall upon, the second line underlined it reads: “With great courage I put aside this fear to confess to you such words that I cannot express on my own.” Your hand runs over the lines, the smell of gunpowder but there is a scent that you so long for. The scent of lavender still lingers onto the parchment which ripples under your clutch. .

Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;

The next lines highlighted “For this feeling was just as strong as rage yet it was where I found peace, my heart weakened at the sight of you and from that moment onwards it belonged to you.” A smile naturally took over you, the flutter in your chest an ecstatic feeling you forgot.

So I for fear of trust forget to say

The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,

And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,

O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.

O, let my books be then the eloquence

And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,

Who plead for love and look for recompense

More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ.

To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

“Know that I cannot express the words my soul speaks, for we are worlds apart so allow the empty words of the English language, attempt to convey my love. Look not at my words only but at the way the fool I make in your presence for my mind is clouded with you, heart beats for you and soul yearns for you. For you are my sonnet 18 as a friend and sonnet 23 as a lover.” Tears fall unnoticed, for you hear his voice so clear in your head, for six years you waited for a single word from him and here he has gifted you a sonnet between lovers, so how could you possibly love someone else.

“Yours forever Jisung, the boy who waits in the lavender field”. You sob as you read those words, a fresh new wave of tears staining the parchment as the longing to be in his warmth and comfort is washed upon you as if it were that day you were forced away from him. Opening a wound that never could fully heal.

Waiting is a virtue of love, it proves your love, for it feels equivalent to death and yet you still wait but there is a point in time where you can wait no longer, where you must stop waiting and strive for love now. At this exact moment, it is time. For you are ready to give up the world to run to Jisung, to find the beauty in the moon once more, to find solace in the sweet smell of lavenders once more, to find the warmth of the sun once more, to find happiness once more. For happiness was the only reason worth living.

You're not sure how long you’ve been running, legs moving on their own, you don’t look back you’ve learnt never to look back, never return. As the metallic taste at the back of your throat rises, oxygen running thin and your legs almost collapse from exhaustion. It’s as if you jumped out of the past, gown torn at the train station, you’re left in rags but it’s different this time. For before you ran to find your happiness and now you run to where happiness lies. In a field of lavenders.

Every fiber of your being pulses with the need to see him, hear him, touch him. To feel his warmth once more, to have his voice send serenity through you, to see his eyes again and to smell the sweet scent that lingers around him. You’re not sure what souls are made of but whatever it is yours and his are the same. For your heart yearns for him, desperate, it aches every living second of everyday without him. For a life without love, is a life unlived.

The rows and rows of purple are in sight and there in the middle of it all stands him, waiting. Jisung doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, he can tell by your footsteps, your breath, your scent and the sudden ease he feels. You are there. Yet he does anyways for the memory of you has haunted him for the past 6 years, on the battlefield, in the barracks, he would only see you, only hear you but he couldn’t touch you; for you were merely a dream mixing with reality.

But here you are standing in front of him, Your expensive dress torn up, now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing. He smiles as nostalgia washes over him, was this real or were you just a fragmented memory. Was he simply remembering happier times, a time where you were in his grasp. “Jisung” you call out, voice soft and unsure, a hand reaching out for his own, to make sure what you saw in front of you wasn’t a hallucination, a cruel trick your mind played on you. Slowly a warmth overtook your hand, sparks sent through your skin and into your bloodstream and the beating of your heart returned. Tears formed but never fell because one of you needs to be strong, Jisung sobbed as he fell into your embrace, gripping onto you. “Never leave again” he chokes out, breathing heavy and uneven. “Promise me” he whispers into your hair.

Pulling him back to face you, his eyes are red and puffy yet they burn with passion, his cheeks stained with tears but the pink dust is always still there, you smile at him closing the gap and finally placing your lips on his. The taste of salty tears invade your mouth and your lips move against his and he kisses you back, placing his hand on your cheek he pulls you closer, thumb brushing over the top of your cheekbone. Your knees weaken and you grip at his shirt, desperately clinging to him as your knuckles turn white, as he kisses you with passion overflowing with each soft movement, sincere and full of the love he can't express through words. The scent of lavender is overwhelming and intoxicating, you press yourself against him. Your lungs burn as he kisses you breathless, sparks flying into your bloodstream and unbearable heat takes over whilst your lips move as one. Pulling away, chests heaving as you pull in as you regain all the oxygen you exchange, Jisung places his forehead on yours, his cheeks pink and in between breaths you whisper against his lips “I promise” and again he pulls you in, lips crashing on yours.

This is your first love, it may not be your last but it will be the one you remember most, for it taught you how to love, it taught you the struggles of love and it taught you to feel loved. In search of fulfillment and meaning, you weren't looking for love but it found you and soon after fulfillment and meaning came in the form of a boy in a lavender field.

© (jisungiest) 2021. All Rights Reserved.

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[hualianff]

Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.  

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #xie lian #hua cheng #human xie lian #vampire hua cheng #sorry it's rushed

[missmungoe]

Can we get more pirate Makino

Of course! I’m actually writing a thing about exactly that, so here’s a glimpse from the first chapter of a three-part fic I’ve been working on, titled On the Water (alternatively: How to Become a Pirate in Your Thirties).

Follows Long Live, rated M for, well, Shanks. The full story will be up on AO3 when it’s finished, but I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!

-

For her birthday he gave her the horizon, but adapting to life at sea was a work in progress.

The ropes scuffed her palms, gentle hands that had always known hard work, just not this particular kind. She’d have blisters tomorrow, Makino suspected, although hoped that was all she’d have, and not a broken back and fractured skull to boot.

“Need a hand?”

His voice reached down towards her, as a big hand was offered, the broad palm roughened with harder calluses than hers. The metal of his wedding ring caught the sunlight; unlike his fingers, it didn’t bear the evidence of his way of life, but then he hadn’t been wearing it on his hand for very long.

Her own ring was dulled and scratched from wear; the curious symmetry of their lives, at least before her recent about-face in terms of careers, her apron and serving tray exchanged with canvas, rope, and questionable safety measures.

She looked at the hand held out to her, following the sinewy forearm to Shanks, perched on the ratlines above her with an effortlessness she couldn’t decide if made her want to gawk or shriek in frustration. The fact that he could even offer his hand was hard to believe, given that he only had one, but he looked utterly unhindered by the fact, his bare feet steady where he balanced on the ropes, in a way that made it seem like having two hands would have just been overkill.

For her own part, Makino was trying her best not to cling with every appendage she had.

“Are you being cheeky?” she called up, just a little shrilly, gripping the ropes when an impish gust of wind sent the ratlines swaying.

“You tell me,” came the quick reply, her disbelief parried with the flash of a roguish grin. “You’re the one with the view.”

Poised on the ropes directly beneath him, Makino demurely refused to acknowledge the cheeks in question, hugged rather snugly by the fabric of his pants where he leaned his weight against the ropes. Today’s pattern was cheerful palm tree leaves against a bright red backdrop. The fact that it might be the last thing she saw before falling to her death was a sobering thought.

“Eyes aloft, sailor,” Shanks said, a note of command that sent a shiver jumping up her spine, and that had her gaze darting from his rear to his face, and the delighted grin stretched across it. “I know I’m distracting, but try to be professional?”

Had she been a better liar, she might have attempted a glib retort. As it was, the sight of him on the ropes was distracting, a captain in his natural element, his feet bare and his signature cloak discarded; the ruggedness of a man who’d spent his life at sea, all rough stubble and sun-darkened skin swept with dark hair, his half-buttoned shirt straining over his wide shoulders in a way that really ought to be against the law, or at the very least prohibited during certain circumstances, like, say, when she was trying to keep her concentration so she didn’t fall and break every bone in her body.

The toned arm extended towards her, the right sleeve cinched around his bicep, flexing when he caught her eyes darting to it.

Her attempt at an unfazed expression faltered, and his chuckle chased her gaze when she averted it, although her blush was arguably more incriminating, but then it was hard not to be impressed, and she still wasn’t used to seeing him like this.

Curling her toes, she tested her balance. She’d rolled her breeches up past her knees, and her bare feet helped with her grip on the lines. The only thing she’d kept of the clothes she’d brought aboard with her was her loose-sleeved blouse, and even her kerchief had been exchanged for a longer scarf to better hold back her hair; red with white embroideries, he’d gifted it to her shortly after they’d set out from Fuschia, weaved into her long braid now, brushing her spine where it hung between her shoulder blades. She wore no further embellishments, although had wondered how she might look, with gold in her ears and on her fingers, or pearls from the bottom of the sea. Trappings for a different pirate, or at least a bolder one.

She missed her skirts, her silk bodices and embroidered aprons, but this was more practical, and better suited her new chores. Maybe one day she’d be a barmaid again, but for now she was a pirate, and if an enemy showed up, they wouldn’t be asking for a drink.

Shanks offered his hand again, and this time Makino took it, sea-roughened fingers wrapping around her smaller ones tightly, and her breath seized when he lifted her up, and so fast she had to stifle the startled yelp that escaped her, and heard his laughter, a softer thing now as she scrambled to hold on to her new perch on the ratlines beside him.

Her feet curled around the ropes as she tried to reclaim her balance, her breath hitching when the rigging swayed.

She watched as Shanks moved, his leg sliding behind hers as he put himself behind her. A big hand settled over one of hers, gripping it reassuringly.

“Breathe,” came the gentle order, as her back met the sturdy width of his chest, the support allowing her to relax enough to slacken her death grip on the lines, the breath she’d been holding easing out as she did. His feet caged hers, tiny in comparison, his body keeping her secure on the lines. The top of her head was barely level with his sternum; she could feel the warmth of his skin bared by his shirt where it pressed against her back. “Attagirl.”

Shifting his weight, his hips brushed against her backside, and her breath shivered with her laugh, feeling him.

“This is hardly what I’d call professional,” Makino said, even as she yielded some of her weight to him, glad of the support offered by his bigger frame.

“What are you talking about? I’m the essence of professionalism. I just have a very hands-on approach to teaching.” His grin brushed the tender spot on her neck beneath her ear as he rumbled, “This is the first time I hear you complaining about that.”

“I’m not complaining,” Makino said, the shiver in her voice betraying her reaction, but sensing an opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine, added demurely, “I like having you behind me.”

She felt his surprise in the startled grip of his fingers, and could picture his grin from the winded laugh that reached through her back.

“Say things like that and you’ll make me lose my grip.” The way he pressed against her felt retaliatory, her breath hitching at the grind of his hips, and the hardness beneath her rear. “I’m trying to show you the ropes here.” His lips skimmed the back of her neck, the fleeting kiss followed by a rumble, “Although if we move this to our cabin I can show you some different ones.”

Her heart skipped, although not so much for the suggestion as for the casual use of our that had found its way into his vocabulary lately.

Her laugh was soft, and she felt him squeeze her hand. “Such a thorough education you’re giving me.”

“Well, I want you to be prepared,” Shanks said, as a grinning kiss marked the spot above her pulse. “There are some real scoundrels on this sea.”

“Oh, I know.” Her eyes flicked up to catch his, tempered steel in the sunlight. “If I’m not careful, one might steal me away on his ship.”

His look softened, a gentler kind of heat, before he bent to kiss the crown of her head.

But even teasingly said, it touched upon something she hadn’t broached with him yet; an underlying fear that had followed her from East Blue like a shadow in the water, and that was a large part of why she wanted to learn how to sail.

She didn’t want him to regret taking her with him―that there should come a day when her inexperience would cease being endearing, if she became a burden he couldn’t afford to have on his ship.

“Hey,” Shanks said then; the shift in his tone made her blink, before she realised that her thoughts had wandered. “Everything okay?”

Makino nodded, and hoped the slight quaver in her voice helped make her lie convincing. “Just made the mistake of looking down.”

There was a beat where she wondered if he’d seen through her deceit, but then, “As much as I’m enjoying teaching you,” Shanks said, and she was surprised there was no teasing in his voice now, “you know you don’t have to learn this, right? I captain a pretty big crew. We’ve got plenty of hands on deck, and that’s not an amputee quip.”

Murmurs of agreement backed him, from the crew gathered below, all of them having come out on deck to observe. She’d ask them to mind their own business if she’d thought it would work, but recognised a lost battle. They hadn’t minded their own business since the day they’d met.

Although catching the wary looks on their faces, she wondered if the real reason they’d gathered to watch was so they could catch her if she slipped.

Ben was holding the baby, wide-eyed and sucking on his fingers where he watched them both aloft, and she had the sudden thought that he probably wouldn’t forget it if she fell to her death.

It almost made her hesitate, wondering if she really was pushing it, and that her focus was better spent on something a little less hazardous, like charting stars or assisting Marsh in the galley, and not on building a career as a sailor when she was long past the age most swabbies got their first posting. She wasn’t even a proper swabbie, but couldn’t exactly claim a higher rank when she had no skills or credentials to back it up.

But there was a part of her that wouldn’t back down, even against her own misgivings. She couldn’t choose this life, his life, and keep living the way she had. This sea wouldn’t allow it, and she’d be naive if she believed otherwise.

It was never going to be easy, and she was painfully aware that she’d chosen the worst possible time to abandon her law-abiding job to become a pirate. Granted, most fledgling pirates didn’t achieve overnight fame and a back-bending kiss on the cover of the WENP. If she’d hoped for a subtle change of careers, that ship had thoroughly sailed.

But whatever kind of pirate she turned out to be, she didn’t want to be useless. At the very least, she wanted to know her way around his ship.

“It’s not like I’m going to put you on watch duty,” Shanks said, when a lull had passed where she hadn’t spoken. “That’s why we have Fen, although between you and me, if Whiskey could sound the alarm, he’d be out of a job.”

“No offence, Boss, but that cat was shat out of satan’s arsehole,” spoke the freckled young man seated on the yard above them, with the ease of someone who spent a lot of time aloft, and who didn’t have thirty-two years of deeply burrowed roots holding him back. “But yeah, you’re probably right.”

“If our ship’s cat can do it, then I should be able to,” Makino retorted pertly, although didn’t say that she’d rather not spend a whole night in the crow’s nest by herself. Not that Shanks would ask her, and if he did, he’d have something rather different in mind than keeping watch, but even that would be moot if she couldn’t get up there by herself.

If they hadn’t had an audience, she might have told him. Instead what she said was, “I can’t be a pirate without any sailing skills, Shanks.”

“Hey, there are plenty of pirates who have no sailing skills,” Shanks countered. “Don’t underestimate how much you can get away with by riding someone’s coattails. It’s done wonders for Buggy’s career.”

“At this rate, he’ll be an Emperor soon,” Fen said.

“Who will?” Yasopp asked, appearing on the yard beside Fen, causing Makino to start, and she was glad to have Shanks behind her, as she didn’t lose her grip. She hadn’t even seen him climb up, but, “Hey, Ma-chan,” he chirped, swinging his legs over the yard as he took a seat. “How’s it hanging?”

“Oh, just swimmingly,” Makino sighed, and tried not to squirm, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on her. Unlike Shanks, she’d never loved the spotlight, particularly when doing something she wasn’t good at, and it was a little intimidating to have a whole crew of experienced pirates observing her stumbling attempts into learning their craft.

For all its delight, Yasopp’s grin was understanding, and her gratitude was silent when that sharp-eyed gaze left her to look at Fen, his arms crossed over his chest in a casual repose as he repeated his earlier question, “So who’ll be an Emperor soon?”

“Buggy,” Fen said.

Yasopp snorted, but after a beat, conceded, “You know, I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s got a way of falling upwards.” Then with a grin, “Roster’s getting pretty packed now, though, with Luffy and this one,” he said, nodding to Makino. “You’ll have to watch out for challengers now that you’ve announced yourself, Ma-chan. It’s eat or be eaten on this sea.”

“Don’t,” Makino said primly, before Shanks could open his mouth, and she couldn’t see his grin but she could imagine it well enough. Then to Yasopp, “And please don’t include me in this power-grabbing contest.”

“I hate to break it to you, my heart, but it’s a little late for that,” Shanks said.

“You did give an interview,” Yasopp pointed out.

“The photograph was also hard to misinterpret,” Fen agreed.

“I don’t mind what they call me,” Makino said, and already knew what it was, the endearment that had been given to her by the man she’d married long before she’d asked him to take her with him, but Empress was symbolic, not declarative, and the title itself wasn’t the issue. “It’s about what they expect. I’m not going to challenge anyone, I just want to be a normal pirate. No politics, just plain and simple swashbuckling. Whatever happened to parrots and peg legs?”

“Do you want a parrot?” Shanks asked.

“What I want is for my merits to speak for themselves,” she said, gently firm as she tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Small and unimportant as they might be.”

His look held a thought he didn’t share, but before he could say anything, “So I’m not riding your coattails,” she told him, and was quick to add, “And don’t,”―he pinched his lips shut, although the boyish grin stayed―“make that into something lewd. It’s too easy, even for you.”

“She’s got a point, Cap,” Yasopp said. Fen made a noise of agreement.

“I feel like you’re all underestimating my creativity, but whatever,” Shanks said. “Also, ‘even for you’, wife? The level of disrespect. You’re on my ship now, and last I checked, I was still the captain.”

Doubtful murmurs from the deck below, which he answered by sticking his tongue out.

Her smile was sweetly mutinous. “Let me rephrase, then: I’m not riding your coattails, Captain.”

She knew from his grin that she was going to be paying for that later, but, “Have I told you that I find your premature midlife crisis adorable?” Shanks said instead. “Most people just change their hair. Or buy a really big boat.”

“Or marry a younger woman,” Ben supplied from around his toothpick. The baby on his arm was falling asleep, his head tucked under his chin.

Shanks turned his head to call down, “Et tu, you ass?”

Laughing agreement from the rest of their crew set off a debate of who’d had the biggest midlife crisis to date―a tie between Yasopp’s dreads and their captain’s choice of wife, who demurely elected to have no opinion on the matter―and Makino felt the momentary reprieve of their attentions, Shanks’ in particular, who for all his easygoing attitude had been watching her closely since they’d begun climbing the rigging.

It wasn’t that he minded her learning, but she wondered sometimes if he’d expected her to take the safer route, or at least one that didn’t include the risk of breaking her neck. His desire to protect her was endearing, if a little hypocritical from a man who was entirely too casual about danger. Their departure from East Blue was only the most recent example.

It had been a few weeks since her birthday, when she’d left the only home she’d ever known, chased from her safe shores by a fleet of navy warships. That last part had thankfully not needed repeating, but then the navy didn’t have the same foothold on this sea, or the presence to enforce their authority, in her husband’s territory.

Hers now, too, or at least symbolically, although even then it was a lot to accept for someone whose only claim before this had been to a little bar on the seaside. She still hadn’t fully grasped the finer points of the New World’s politics, aside from the precarious balance of powers that always felt one nudge away from toppling, and even saying that she wanted no part in it, she wondered sometimes if she would even have a choice.

Warm fingers squeezed hers. “Ready?” Shanks asked, and with a fortifying breath, Makino nodded.

She felt him shift his weight, yielding room for her as she made to climb further up the ratlines, and following close behind her until they reached the footrope beneath the course yard, where the bottom sails were stowed.

Reaching past her, she watched him swing himself up onto the yard, nimble in a way that never ceased to amaze her. She’d used to observe him working aloft, that first year they’d been docked in Fuschia, but watching him still stole her breath, his amputation no more a hindrance than the wind, and sure-footed in a way that made her wonder if he’d ever feared anything.

She wished for a bit of that confidence now, as she focused on making it look like she wasn’t clinging to the ratlines now that he was no longer behind her.

Her gaze fleeted down to the deck. She’d never been particularly afraid of heights, but then she’d made a point of keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground. The only other occasions she’d stepped out of her comfort zone had been at his direction, except this was a bit higher up than atop a table.

Shanks extended his hand to her, and this time she was prepared when he pulled her up, her weight not even a minor burden as he lifted her onto the course yard in a single, fluid movement.

His hand cupped her elbow, steadying her as she found her footing. It was the lowest yard on the mast, but the distance to the deck still felt considerable.

The sea spray was gentle against her cheeks, touched pink by the sun that had darkened her freckles, the weeks they’d been at sea. The salt wind kept trying to stubbornly coax her hair out of her scarf, a few rogue strands freed to brush her cheekbones.

Looking up at Shanks found him watching her, so tall she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes, a thought behind them she wasn’t privy to, but at her questioning look he just said, “It suits you.”

Bemusement wrinkled her brow as she laughed, winded from the climb, “What, sweat and your old capris?”

The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, a fey smile that made her wonder if she’d guessed correctly, before his hand lifted to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing the arch of her cheekbone before tucking an errant lock of salt-swept hair back into her scarf, as Shanks said simply, “The sea.”

Her grin wavered, and she had no comeback to that, but he only curled his fingers under hers, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles, before gesturing to the mast. “After you.”

He let her grip his hand until she’d found a foothold, and kept one step behind her as she climbed the ratlines towards the top of the mast, until they’d reached the topgallant yard, and balancing on the footrope, he waited until she’d hoisted herself up before climbing up beside her.

The sea spooled out beneath them, the blue silk sky above the horizon the most perfect she’d ever seen. This high up, the wind sang louder between the masts, laughing where it tugged and teased the rigging, the shrouds stretched taut and the ratlines creaking as the ship swayed.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Makino eased her legs down on either side of the wooden yard. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing the world from this perspective, and couldn’t say if the thrill she felt leaned more towards fear or excitement. 60/40, probably.

She looked down.

…or maybe 70/30.

Searching for a distraction, she lifted her eyes to Shanks, his long legs draped astride the yard, like he might sit on one of the benches in the galley. “How does it feel?”

Breathing in deeply, “Like I want to throw up,” Makino said, and saw his grin where it split his face.

Her smile softened, and keeping her eyes on him, she said, “And like I never want to go back down.”

His grin held understanding, and a feeling that made her heart ache, it was so fierce, and that wasn’t the view’s doing, although it was an undeniably spectacular sight, the sea and the sky ever-bending, the world stretched as far as it would go from horizon to horizon; an otherworldliness about this ocean that was humbling, faced with her own mortality against those terrifying powers, which had nothing to do with the pirates who sailed it.

Before coming to the New World, she hadn’t known what to expect. Between Shanks’ camping stories and the navy’s propaganda, all she’d known was that it wouldn’t be anything like East Blue, which meant she couldn’t keep being the same person she’d been. Not if she wanted to be in an Emperor’s crew, even just as his wife. There was no room for the ordinary in this realm, where only the extraordinary survived.

Lowering her gaze, she braved a glance at the deck far below. Hopefully she wouldn’t fall and break her neck. Given the countless ways to die on this sea, it seemed a somewhat anticlimactic way to go.

Lifting her eyes to Shanks found him considering her, outlined by the sun behind him, his eyes hooded under his scars, a curiously vulnerable look in them now, as though he couldn’t quite make himself believe she was really there.

She wondered if that look would fade, if he ever came to regret bringing her with him.

The intrusive thought slipped past her defences, before she blinked it away.

“So, my barmaid,” Shanks said, the tender note in his voice rendering it too sincere for teasing. “How are you finding the pirate’s life so far?”

She hoped her smile didn’t betray her earlier thoughts. “It’s actually been pretty uneventful,” Makino said, with a lightness that attempted to conceal the slight shiver in her voice. “I’m almost beginning to wonder if you really were exaggerating about all your dangerous escapades. I’ve seen no bears, either.”

His smile indulged her teasing, but his silence was telling.

She wondered what he was shielding her from, and if she even wanted to know. But even if she couldn’t hide from it forever, she was grateful for the uneventfulness of their voyage thus far. It wasn’t the same as Fuschia, with its gentle monotony, and where change had always been welcome. On this sea, change could easily be synonymous with war.

Her stomach twisted at the reminder, but looking out over the sea found it calm, although she did wonder what would happen the day it inevitably caught up with them. Shanks had enemies, and one in particular had featured in her nightmares since long before she’d asked to come with him.

Blinking her eyes, she dispelled the thought of Blackbeard, anchoring her focus in the present, and Shanks on the yard beside her, in his shirtsleeves and with his pants rolled up past his knees, the deceptive trappings of a simple sailor, and not the pirate lord the world knew. The wind had dragged its fingers through his hair, and his scars looked gentler under the look of contentment on his face, his staggering features eased with a smile, and the note of tension that was usually there gone from his brow.

Looking at him, it was almost easy to forget the authority he held on this sea; the kind of power he commanded, and the territories under his flag. To believe for a few seconds that she might be a simple sea captain’s wife, and nothing more.

But lifting her eyes to the top of the mast, and the jolly roger dancing on the breeze, there was no denying what he was, and what she was now, and had been since the day she’d married him. That the pirate who’d stolen her away from her quiet shores was not the same who’d first dropped anchor in her port twelve years ago; the one she knew as her husband.

She didn’t know him like that―as Emperor. She wondered idly if that was what he was shielding her from, more than anything else.

“You know,” Shanks said then, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re handling this a lot better than most do, their first time aloft. Buggy only made it halfway up―I bet him that I could climb higher, so of course he had to prove me wrong. You should have seen him. Captain had to climb up to get him down.”

“What about you?” Makino asked, smiling. She could picture it easily, for all that she’d never actually met Buggy.

His grin belonged to the eight-year-old up to no good, all boyish pride. “I made it to the top.”

“He had to get you down too, didn’t he?”

“Yup. I think I even cried a little on the way down.”

Her laugh tumbled out, the sound softening his eyes, and she saw his gaze where it drifted a bit, as though remembering.

Watching him, Makino tried to picture their son at that age, if he would be similarly brave, and foolish, and if he might have a little brother or sister egging him on. Maybe even more than one.

It wasn’t the first time the thought found her, imagining more children. She hadn’t brought it up since the birth of their son, and didn’t know how to broach the subject now, when their lives had changed so much. She hadn’t been able to make herself ask him what he felt about it, afraid of what the answer would be. It was already a risk having her on board, and a baby who wasn’t even a year old. A pregnancy wouldn’t exactly make things easier.

Would he think it would be too dangerous for her to stay? She couldn’t say he would be wrong, but just thinking about going back to her life before, and that aching loneliness, to wait, scared and alone on some island, filled her with a fear that made all her other worries pale in comparison.

She knew his old captain had accepted the risk, allowing the wife and children of one of his men to sail with them, but it had been a different time, and from what Shanks had told her, she could hold her own against the best in their crew. Makino couldn’t say the same for herself.

“It proves my point, though,” Shanks said, drawing her back from where her thoughts had gone, and her hand slipped from where it had been worrying her stomach. The admiration in his voice was genuine, but then for all his teasing, he’d never been the type to indulge her just to make her feel better. “You’re a natural. At this rate you’ll be dancing on the yards in no time.”

The impulse seized her, not an unusual feeling where he was concerned, wanting his eyes on her, and his admiration. It was what gave her the courage now, overtaking her fear, and spurred by the sight of his eyes widening, Makino put the future out of her mind, focusing instead on Shanks as she made to push to her feet.

Shifting her weight, she rose to her full height. She wasn’t looking at him now, but felt his focus, the near-physical grip of his eyes, fastened on her where she balanced on the yard. The wind tugged her blouse from where she’d tucked it into the waistline of her breeches, filling her lungs, until she felt light as air. Aside from being terrifying, there was something exhilarating about being aloft, so high up it felt like you could see to the very ends of the world.

The yard creaked beneath her bare feet, but her balance held as she walked the length of the yardarm, her arms lifted, but she didn’t waver, a balletic grace that cheerfully defied her hesitance climbing up, and reaching the end of the yard, she turned to find his mouth hanging open, and couldn’t keep her smile demure where it split her face, her secret revealed.

She wished she could commemorate the look on his face somehow, as Shanks told her, “I don’t know what I’m more proud of, your acting skills or the fact that you’ve been practicing without me noticing.”

Smiling, she didn’t mention that the last one had been a bigger challenge than learning to work aloft, but the nights he’d been busy with their son, going to sleep early, she’d sneak out to practice. Fen and Yasopp had been teaching her, and she saw Shanks single out both culprits now in the crow’s nest, wearing near-identical grins.

His eyes found hers again, a new look in them now, as though he was seeing her differently. And it was a look she knew but that never failed to catch her off guard, something that was at once tender and fierce, and that filled her with a thrill that knew no equal, even against the adrenaline rush of being aloft where she stood atop the sea, dressed in the warm spray and the salt wind and with blisters on her hands and feet that it would take some time yet to become proper callouses.

She wondered what he saw now when he looked at her, if it was a barmaid or a pirate; wasn’t sure which she felt like, but the look on his face rendered the distinction unimportant.

Glancing down, the drop still made her stomach turn in on itself, but it was a different feeling being up here now than it had been the first time. It might also have something to do with his reaction, and the grin that was so proud it looked like it couldn’t go any wider.

Her own pride made her bold, and made her forget the distance to the deck, and holding his eyes, she didn’t pay enough attention to her feet, or the loose bit of rope where it peeked out from where the sails were stowed.

It caught her foot.

She saw Shanks’ eyes widening, his grin falling as he scrambled to reach for her, but it was too late.

Terror seized her limbs, and even the formerly playful wind couldn’t cushion her fall as she plummeted through the air. For all that it had seemed so far, the drop to the deck below was quick, and she had less than a second to think as she twisted mid-air, grabbing for the rope as Fen tossed it down, and her heart lurched into her mouth as her downward descent changed course, the momentum provided by her fall allowing her to swing around the main mast.

The wind rushed by, dragging tears from her eyes and a terrified laugh from her chest as she soared through the air, towards the deck and the crew who’d gathered to watch, wearing horrified expressions and looking like they’d been prepared to catch her, but they were forced to step aside as Makino released her grip on the line.

Her landing wasn’t as smooth as she’d wanted, as releasing the rope saw her stumbling forward as her feet touched the deck, multiple pairs of hands reaching out to grab her, but she didn’t fall, catching herself against Lucky, who was the closest.

A full second of stunned silence followed where no one made a sound, before Yasopp let out a whooping cheer, but the rest looked so shocked, they didn’t immediately respond.

She saw the first wavering grin, before more rippled through the crowd, followed by their voices, their salt-hewn timbres raised in a roar under the open sky. It filled her chest, leaving her lightheaded as rough hands ruffled her hair and gripped her shoulders.

Still reeling, Makino didn’t tell them she was glad for the support, because it felt like her knees were about to give out.

Her heart was pounding against the roof of her mouth, adrenaline and childlike exhilaration pulling a winded laugh from her chest, bright and airy as she lifted her eyes to the main mast, only to find Shanks calling down towards her.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Shielding her eyes from the sun, she didn’t even attempt a demure smile this time, or pretend her knees weren’t trembling as badly as her voice, even as she called up, “Were you worried, Captain?”

His breath left him in a gust she couldn’t decide whether or not was a laugh.

She watched as he lifted to his feet, her eyes widening as he reached for one of the lines, before diving off the topgallant yard, using the propulsion from his jump to swing around the mast like she had, although with far more control.

But where she’d expected him to step onto the deck, he only shifted his weight, allowing his momentum to carry him towards where she was standing, and she’d just realised what he meant to do when he swept her off her feet, the arm extended to hold the line wrapping around her tightly.

Her hands scrambled for purchase, clinging to his broad shoulders, a shrieking laugh pulling from her lips, chased by his deeper cadence as they soared through the air, once more around the mast. The wind carried them forward, and glancing down saw the drop to the water below, but it wasn’t fear that filled her this time, her nose buried in his neck with her laughter, like when he’d spin her, dancing in her bar as the fiddle played until she was dizzy and gasping for breath, only this time they danced on the squalls to the singing of the ship.

He put them down on the deck, his arm around her keeping her legs from giving out as he stepped off, holding her to him as he gently eased her down on her feet. Her whole body shook, adrenaline and laughter in equal measure as she steadied herself against his body.

His arm curled around her loosely, his palm spanning her back, but he didn’t let her go, which Makino appreciated, as she didn’t trust her legs just yet.

“That’s payback for nearly giving me a heart attack,” Shanks said, playfully chiding, although there was a slight waver in his voice that couldn’t be smoothed over with humour.

Looking up at him where he held her, her beaming smile didn’t know how to contain itself. “I wanted to surprise you.”

His look softened, somehow both achingly proud and mildly exasperated, as he told her wryly, “You succeeded.” Touching his chest, he let out a wheezing sigh. “Well, at least I know my ticker is working. Always good to know at my age.”

“I try to keep you on your toes,” Makino said, and gently glib, “That’s what a younger wife is for, or so I’ve heard.”

The chuckle that left him was winded, and pulling her close, “I love you,” he sighed. “You’ll send me to an early grave, but at least I’ll be really excited about it.”

Her grin hurt. “Any comments on my form?”

“Exquisite. Dainty and petite. Perfect, tiny breas―”

She clapped her hands over his mouth, her laughter loud and startled. “Shanks!”

“What?” he asked, his voice muffled behind her hands. “Oh, was that not what you were referring to?” His grin peeked out from behind her splayed fingers, her palms catching on his beard as he chuckled, “My bad.”

Kissing her fingers, he wrapped his own around them, his big hand dwarfing hers as he squeezed it. Makino almost thought it felt like his fingers were shaking.

His grin had eased a bit, although his voice was rough with pride as he kissed her small fist and said, “Quick reaction time, and damn impressive manoeuvres. A bit shaky on the landing, but you get extra points for theatrics.”

Beaming, she didn’t mention that she’d fallen on her ass the first eight attempts; she was just delighted she’d stuck the landing when it counted. “I still need more practice going down,” Makino said.

His whole face brightened, his grin fairly wolfish, and she recognised her mistake a second too late.

“Oh my god,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with a gusting laugh.

“I’m torn between vehemently disagreeing with that statement and graciously offering myself up for you to practice on,” Shanks said, his arm wrapping around her as she bent her head towards his chest, her laughter helpless as he lowered his voice to murmur, “You know my feelings about that particular skill of yours. Look; it’s already got a standing ovation.”

She pinched his side, and demurely ignored said standing ovation where it pressed against her stomach, her arms wrapped around his waist as she leaned into his chest, his laughter soft as he pulled her close, a trembling kiss pressed to the parting of her hair.

The others were there, their voices raised with delight, “Seriously, Makino!”

Nervous laughter. “You really had us going there for a moment!”

“Yeah, no shit. I thought my heart was about to fall through my ass!”

“Lovely image,” Shanks said, his arm sliding around her back as she leaned into his side.

Ben was holding Ace, awakened from his brief nap by the commotion. For once, his untouchable expression yielded a surprising amount of feeling, although Makino didn’t know whether to call it relief or like he desperately needed a smoke.

“You’re supposed to be the one with sense,” he told her, handing the baby over to Shanks when he reached his arms towards his father.

Shanks just grinned, and settling their son on his arm, “Just wait until this little guy begins climbing the rigging. It’s a good thing you can’t get any greyer, Ben, but then it’s my turn now, I guess.”

Ben looked at them both, then at his godson. Makino wondered if it was the first time the thought had occurred to him.

Smiling, and ignoring the thought of how she would handle an overactive toddler on a ship, “Wish you hadn’t quit smoking?” Makino asked him.

Ben looked at the baby, making excited babbling noises as Shanks pointed at a seagull grooming on the yard where they’d been sitting.

But for all his long-suffering, and the worry she still felt that they’d be too much trouble to have aboard, it wasn’t regret that made a startled grin break across his face, catching even her off guard as Ben said, and with a look that made her wonder if he knew what she was hiding, “A small sacrifice.”

#Shanks x Makino #Shanks/Makino #Shanks #Red-Haired Shanks #Akagami no Shanks #One Piece #Makino (One Piece) #opfanfic #Red-Haired Shanks x Makino #One Piece fanfiction #Red-Hair Pirates #mungoe writes #this story lives at the intersection of Scylla and Sea Songs #featuring Shanks and Makino and their travelling bar #there'll be swords! #there'll be singing! #and if it's not already obvious from the foreshadowing in this one: there will be a little drama #(.....and maybe some hurt/comfort) #(I'm honest about my vices guys) #and for those who read Long Live and wanted a follow-up to the very last scene: this story will of course feature the Straw-Hats

[mizgnomer]

Excerpts from the SyFy Wire & Film School Rejects interviews with Claire Anderson, the Emmy-nominated costume designer for Good Omens:

[ Film School Rejects - by Ciara Wardlow]  “I worked through it with gut reaction images. So, two guys. Two guys, kind of close, nearly in love, if you like,” she said. “I just went in and we had a really big, very open conversation about how you related to these people in the script and how we would make them real and plausible, but give them a fantasy element. Give them something otherworldly.”

While Anderson says that she ultimately took this approach with more or less all of the characters, mixing period and modern elements to give characters somewhat timeless, yet also somewhat fantastical “out of time” looks, in the early discussion stages it was all about Aziraphale and Crowley. For one thing, Sheen and Tennant were already cast, which was a major help in determining their looks. It took some time to settle on the duo’s main, contemporary looks, but once these were locked in they played a significant role in determining everything else they wore.

[...] Aziraphale maintains a look with significant nods to the late Victorian era. Crowley too, although he manages to put an edgier twist on things than his angelic contemporary. “We re-appropriate bits of period stuff so that it echoes. [Aziraphale and Crowley] echo one another in their visual identity with pieces from their past—where they’ve touched each other in the past perhaps, or bumped into each other.” Regarding how Crowley manages to keep more of a modern, cool vibe, Anderson gives David Tennant’s performance the lion’s share of the credit. “He’s a very nice man, but he’s very sexy. He brought all of that swagger, that rock star, snake-hipped sexiness, and we built on that.”

[ SyFy Wire - by Jennifer Vineyard] GARDEN OF EDEN, 4004 B.C. -  Anderson looked at everything from Pre-Raphaelite paintings to Al Pacino’s hippie clothes in Serpico to determine just the right flow for Aziraphale’s rough-hewn robe, which has gold embroidery on the shoulders and side. Aziraphale is also wearing a golden ring, which later becomes a signet ring stamped with wings in the Victorian era.

NOAH'S ARK, MESOPOTAMIA, 3004 B.C. - “As aged as I am, I wasn’t there,” Anderson says, laughing. “And there wasn’t any painting or documentation from this era. But what we do know is that tunics remained pretty simple, and the earlier shape would have served them well for many years.” Aziraphale’s robe becomes more streamlined, and he wears gold beads at the neck.

THE CRUCIFIXION, GOLGOTHA, 33 - By this time, both Aziraphale and Crawley — now Crowley — are wearing turbans and head wraps, which Anderson attributes to “a bit of vanity.” Plus the wrap helps Crowley conceal his snake-like eyes (it’s too soon for glasses). Aziraphale dons a soft leather coat over his tunic, while Crowley wears female attire of the region — an abaya.

ROME, 41 -  Switching from tunics to togas was difficult, since togas contain 6 to 12 meters of fabric, which is a lot to carry around on camera. Anderson reduced the size by cutting the togas to fit for the character’s movements, and she gave each actor a thematic decorative pin to hold their togas together — Crowley a serpent and staff, Aziraphale a pair of wings (both courtesy of George Easton at Danegeld Historic Jewellery). Although history might argue that it’s too soon for sunglasses, Crowley starts to shield his eyes with a very small, eye-shaped lens. “It’s suggestive, rather than historically accurate,” Anderson says. And as a sign that Crowley is adapting to the humans around him, he also wears a silver laurel wreath.

ARTHURIAN ENGLAND, THE KINGDOM OF WESSEX, 537 - Anderson sent character descriptions and visuals for Aziraphale and Crowley to armor specialist FBFX, which sent a van to London full of pieces that could work for angelic and demonic armor. Instead of focusing on historical accuracy, Anderson looked for shapes and fit that suggested an ethereal — or snakelike — quality, once the pieces had been painted black or silver. For Crowley, she found a helmet that had a smaller face that could suggest a snakehead, and for Aziraphale, shoulder pieces that were slightly wing-like. To add to the wing effect, Anderson added a white fur caplet to Aziraphale’s armor. “It was terribly grand, but not very practical,” she says. “And the poor guys, it was murderously uncomfortable to stand around in that armor.”

GLOBE THEATRE, LONDON, 1601 - Crowley and Aziraphale catch an early version of Hamlet, looking more period-appropriate than ever thanks to the Globe’s vast archive of costumes. Aziraphale’s wardrobe, which includes a neck ruff edged with gold thread, has a metallic look with a hint of iridescent blue, which opens up his color palette. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a cleaner neckline and leather on his doublet, as well as fabrics that provide sheen and luster to suggest his snaky origins.

REVOLUTIONARY FRANCE, PARIS, 1793 - This is not a period to be dressed like an aristocrat, but Aziraphale couldn’t resist a lace collar, gold brocade and fitted jacket — which explains why he’s stuck in a prison cell (at least until Crowley intervenes). Crowley, more mindful of what revolutionaries would wear, dons a dark red jacket that’s almost as dark as his usual black. When Aziraphale miracle-changes his clothes, he wears the red cap of liberty. “It’s a soft beret that falls somewhere between a modern French beret and a pirate headdress,” Anderson notes.

ST. JAMES' PARK, LONDON, 1862 - This is the time period with which Aziraphale gets most comfortable, fashion-wise, and settles into a Victorian look with tartan flair. Anderson also bestowed some heavenly nods to his angelic nature — a feathery velvet top hat, a stopwatch with angel’s wings on the chain, and the signet ring. Crowley, meanwhile, wears a pair of long, elegantly cut trousers that we will see again in the 1960s. “The trousers repeat, which is basically what fashion does anyway,” Anderson says. “And it’s what the story does. There are notes backward and forwards.”

THE BLITZ, LONDON, 1941 - Aziraphale’s tartan necktie becomes a bow tie, and his penchant for wide lapels, a nod to his wings, continues, this time with a spear-point collar. Crowley, who comes to save Aziraphale once again, is dressed more formally, in a full double-breasted wool suit that must have been hard for David Tennant to wear in the South African heat. “The rest of the crew were in flip-flops and T-shirts, and David was in the suit, hat, and those big boots,” Anderson says, recalling the shoot.  “He had to be very physically active in that scene, and yet David didn’t complain about the heat or anything. He’s amazing.”

SOHO, LONDON, 1967 - Crowley, as noted, continues to wear his Victorian trousers, which are right up to date, and which he pairs with a black paisley velvet jacket with contrasting lapels. His sunglasses now have more of a John Lennon vibe. Aziraphale, perhaps inadvertently, is also looking stylish with his Victorian topcoat, spear-point collar, and cravat (modified from his scarf in Victorian England). “You can’t avoid being affected by changing trends,” Anderson says. “However bookish you are, you still notice other people. And you would have had Rolling Stones and Beatles fans wearing that kind of thing. That was our argument for Aziraphale wearing his Victorian topcoat all the way through, and Michael Sheen loved it. He said it inspired him. And the cravat rang in the changes and helped us with the passage of time, rather than always having him wear a bow tie.

#good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable husbands #crowley and aziraphale #claire anderson #long post #tennant tuesday #costume design #apologies for the length of this post #but it was all so darn interesting! #(guess I should have done part 1 and part 2?) #stuff i posted #they put so much thought into everything #I hope they win that emmy! #I'll probably reblog this with the links intact when I get home tonight #because it's killing me to not include the links to these two articles #p.s. I love the bit about david's snake-hipped sexiness #good omens costumes long post

[anjuschiffer]

It’s finally the New Year! What other way to celebrate than to write for Day 1 of @timari-month-event New Years Day? :D

Day 1 : New Years Day

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life @toodaloo-kangaroo @elijahcrevan @vixen-uchiha @nathleigh

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AO3

Cass poked her head through the common room’s doorway, surprised to see that Dick had managed to have everyone over at his apartment.

To be honest, Cass thought he wouldn’t be able to get everyone under one roof. Then again, this was Dick, everyone’s favorite person...well, almost everyone’s.

“Cass, so that's where you’ve been.” Kate said from behind her, Cass turning to see her ‘aunt.’ “This is your first time, isn’t it? Celebrating New Years, that is.” Cass nodded at that.

She honestly didn’t know what to think about this “New Years” celebration Dick wanted everyone to be a part of, how excited he was to be able to greet the new year as a family.

It was just another event that only marked the end of a year and the beginning of another. Why celebrate it?

Cass snapped from her thoughts when Kate chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright Cass. Don’t think too hard about it. Just enjoy yourself. Perhaps you’ll understand then.”

Cass nodded, watching as Kate walked away to join the others.

She watched as she sat diagonally from Bruce, Selina and Alfred, the quartet of adults observing the other “supposed” adults and children.

“Grapes? Why would you wish using grapes? They don’t hold any magical power.” Damian asked as Dick handed him a bowl with 12 grapes in jt.

“Good question. Why grapes?” Duke asked no one, proceeding to just eat them. “Why not star fruit?”

“I-I actually don’t know.” Dick shyly confesses, deciding to just leave the grapes at the center of the coffee table for people to just grab.

“It actually started as an advertising tactic for farmers to sell their grape harvests in the 19 century in Spain.” Jason said, eyeing his own bowl of 12 grapes. “Later on in the early 20th century, the grapes symbolize good luck, so the people started to eat them after the start of a New Year in hopes of having good luck.”

“In other words, wishful thinking and superstition?” Stephanie asked.

“Yup.” Jason munched on a few grapes. “ there are a few people who additionally do it to ward off evil.”

“So just superstition.” Duke clarifies. “What a waste of good grapes.”

“-can believe it! There’s only five minutes left until the new year!” The woman on the television screen squealed, capturing everyone's attention. The screen then switched cameras to show the packed street of Times Square, hundreds -if not thousands- of people waving at the camera as it panned around them.

“Does everyone have their glass of champagne?” Dick asked, watching as everyone lifted their glass. “Babs, I thought you didn’t drink?”

“And neither does Tim, Damian, Duke and Steph and yet you still gave them one.” Dick started to panic at that.

After all, they’re still minors, even if by a few months away from being either 21 or 18.

“Damian, Duke, Steph, Tim! I need those- wait. Where is Tim?” Dick asked.

“Wait, he was invited?” Jason asked.

“Of course I did! He’s part of the-“

“Three minutes left!”

“Well, too late to ask him to join us. Well just have to greet the new year without him.” Steph said.

“His lost.” Damian added, keeping a grin to himself.

“One minute!”

“FaceTime?” Dick asked, the family ignoring him as they intently watched the woman on the screen beginning to count down.

Cass watched Dick panic around while the rest of the family continued to watch the television.

She noticed Bruce and Selina signal her to come closer, which she did, the two of them pulling her to sit in between them.

Cass fidgeted a bit, adjusting to the affection.

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!”

“Are we really-“

“Five! Four! Three!

Two!

One!

Happy New Year!” The lady announced, hugging her news partner.

“Happy New Year.” The family said in unison, lifting their glasses in sync before everyone took a sip. Of course, a few idiots chugged it down.

Or at least attempted to.

As soon as Jason had chugged half of his champagne, he sputtered about, Babs chuckling in the back while Duke and Steph tried to help him.

“Todd. How dare you waste-“

“Replacement.” He wheezed out, pointing to the screen. “He’s-“ he then began to cough.

Everyone turned to look at the screen wondering what he meant because there on the screen were just couples kissing. Tim wasn’t-

“Well you look at that.” Selina said with a grin.

“Is he serious?” Duke asked, burying his face into his hands.

“Apparently so.” Steph grinned.

There, the farthest corner of the screen was Tim, or rather, Red Robin kissing a girl who wore a hoodie that resembled Red Robin’s. Midnight hair peeled from out of the hood and she wore a red domino mask.

“Did anyone know he was going to do this?” Kate asked. Everyone turned to Alfred.

“Master Tim only told me he was visiting his girlfriend. He never told me he was going to pull this stunt.” Alfred took a sip of his tea. “But we should congratulate the chap. He may not be celebrating with us, but at least he’s celebrating the New Year with someone he loves.”

-How it happened-

Tim was double checking his list, making sure he had everything before heading downstairs.

Despite Dick wanting everyone over at his apartment to spend New Years Eve together, Tim already had plans, plans he had arranged weeks prior.

“Master Tim. Are you heading out?” Alfred asked him, Tim taken aback by Alfred’s...lack of a suit. “Master Tim?”

“Sorry Alfred. It’s just...I’ve never seen you out of a suit so...it suits you.” Was all Tim was able to say. Instead of his tidy and fitted butler suit, Alfred was wearing a very...grandfatherly outfit.

White shirt, gray cardigan, brown jacket and a dark gray pair of slacks. A pair of loafers and a flat cap sealed the deal.

“Well, Miss Marinette gifted me this jacket this Christmas. I thought I would wear it for this occasion. The inner pocket is my favorite detail.”

Alfred showed Tim the inner pocket, the pocket having different swirl embroidery. But upon a closer inspection, each different colored thread was a different family member’s name. Tim’s name was embroidered in a steel blue.

“What a very Marinette thing for her to do.” Tim said with a smile, beaming at her talent. That’s when he remembered about where he was heading. He took out his phone and fought a scowl when he realized he was running behind schedule.

“Judging by your scowl, I’m guessing you’re late to where you’re heading to.”

“I am a bit behind schedule. But I’ll manage.” Tim said, shifting the bag on his shoulder. He didn’t know why, but something told him to say it. “I’m going to New York to meet up with Marinette. We've been planning this for a few months and thought we should meet up for New Year’s Eve. We’ve got a few places in mind and we’re hoping everything-“

“It’s going to be fine.” Alfred assures Tim, not once mentioning his rambling. “Now go. You wouldn’t want to make Miss Marinette wait any longer, now would you?”

Tim nodded, saying goodbye to Alfred and running to catch the nearest cab to get to the nearest bus to take him to New York.

After a two hour trip, Tim stood by an odd mechanism trapped inside an acrylic case.

He wanted to make sure where he was headed before leaving the 42 St Port Authority. After all, he had only been to Times Square a few times in his life.

“Tim!” Marinette called out, Tim looking up from his phone to see Marinette running up to him.

A grin grew on his face as he caught Marinette, twirling her.

“Hey. Aren’t you half an hour early?”

“Maybe you're just late.” Marinette grinned.

Tim sighed at the Into the Spiderverse reference until he noticed her outfit.

She was wearing a red dress, the most obvious piece, but it was her wrap cape that caught his attention. The front piece was red in color while the rest of the cape was black. But it was the hidden accents of gold and the single golden robin crest at the center that intrigued him the most.

“Is that-“

“A Red Robin inspired outfit?” Marinette grinned. “Yes, yes it is. After all,” Marinette leaned over Tim’s ear. “He’s my favorite.” She purred, fighting off a giggle when she saw Tim’s face red from ear to ear.

“We should be on our way.” Tim managed to say, leading Marinette out the building and onto Edge Tower.

—

The duo went on their mini date at Edge Tower, Marinette not surprised when she found out that Tim rented out the entire place for the hour.

Marinette ran up to the edge of the balcony, not believing how high up they were. While Ladybug was able to get up on high places like this with ease, it was a whole different experience as Marinette.

She leaned into the cold air, a smile across her face as the wind blew.

“You’d think you’d get used to things like this.” Tim said, as if reading her mind, leaning against the rail right next to her.

“But no matter how many times you see the same view, it’s always breathtaking.” Marinette replied, turning to face him.

“Just like you are.” Tim enjoyed the way Marinette flushed red, causing him to chuckle. He tucked a loose hair strand behind her ear. “How about we take a picture to remember this?”

And so they did.

—

The thing with it being New Years Eve, all the places were packed, even otherwise empty food courts and the edge of the Hudson River.

After a while, the two ended up heading back to Times Square, a decision they soon regretted.

They ended up being caught in the swarm of people who had been camping in the area for a day...or two...or three…

One of them thought they had already been there and allowed them to slip through and by the time the duo realized that they were being pushed further deeper into the area, it was too late for them to get out. More people started to gather around them, the area packed to the brim with New Yorkers and tourists alike.

Seeing as they were stuck there, Marinette and Tim decided to make the best of it and went along with the crowd, waiting for hours until a few minutes were left before the start of the new year.

“Hey Tim.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m...I’m kinda glad we decided to meet here today.”

“So do I. Although, I do feel guilty for not telling Dick that I wasn’t going to be able accept his invitation to spend the eve with him and the rest of the family.” Tim confessed, Marinette giving his hand a squeeze.

They remained like that for a while before Tim turned to her.

“Marinette, there’s something I have to say.”

“What is it?”

“I just wanted to say, thank you. Thank you for being by my side this year.” He heard someone say that there were three minutes left. He cupped her face between his hands. “Thank you for being part of my life.”

As Tim leaned forward, Marinette stopped him, Tim wondering if he did something wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Tim. I think you’re forgetting something.” Marinette said, placing a domino mask over his eyes and one on herself. “There. Now the press won’t be bothering you tomorrow.”

“The press? Why-“

“Tim. How did you forget that you're the CEO of Wayne Enterprise? Seriously, how can you forget that?” Marinette huffed.

It was then that the two realized that the crowd had begun to count down.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Should we pick up where we left off?” Marinette asked, letting out a yelp when Tim brought her closer to him.

“Six! Five ! Four!”

“Let’s.” Tim’s said, leaning forward towards Marinette.

“Two!

One!”

Their lips met.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

#maribat #timari january 2021 #timari #timari month

[anne-white-star]

Vampire pertwee x reader my love

Notes: reader is a recarnation of jon his past wife takes place during 2021 the pandemic never happend au

Prompt line : 51. I thought you died (alone a long long time ago).

Tag: @watermonkeystuff

Warnings : mention of blood, murder and death

Words: 1920

1871

The life of a vampire can be lonely specaly in a big cold castle. But that changed when he met you, you came at his door wounded, bleeding and close to passing out from the bloodloss.

"Excuse me sir but could you please perhaps help me i was atacked by some robbers they took everything and killed my horse" she was swaying on her feet

"Of course" the tall man said "tell me whats your name ?"

"My name is y/n and i came from (your home town)"

"My goodness thats far away please come in then i can take a look at your wounds".

"Thank you" she started to sway even more with eatch step

"Let me carry you, you clearly arn't able to walk up the stairs"

"Thanks sir"

"Please call me jon" The man picked her up And brought her to one of the many rooms.

That was the night he met you changed him forever

The day he lost you was one of the days he lost his happiness.

You had gone to the market that day to get food for dinner when there was an atack and got slain in the battle it was absolutly horible, you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jon was absolutly heart broken about the news he got, the men who had killed you left the town and flet, he felt anger to those men and went in search. When jon found them he kiled the men he took plesure in their screams of agony as they lay dying on the pavement of the coblestone road. After that he swore to never kill anyone ever again simply because you would have wanted that.

That was 150 years ago.

2021

Jon had viseted your grave many times after your death, he took care of the plants and brought new flowers everytime the old once had died. "Oh i miss you so mutch my darling, no words can say how mutch i miss you, i just wish that i was there to protect you" he brushed his hand over the beautyfull headstone engraved with your name and a tiny little portrait.

Jon had a broach that was decorated with locks of your hair (that was costume to do back in the day when people were mourning a loved one) he had it pinned on he his white blouse just above his heart, jon dint look out of place of course he stil lived in the old castle and somethimes enjoyed to wear his old outfit but he needed to get with the times he had no Idea what those little boxes were that people used what were they called again? Phones or something.... nevermind he thought

"Thill next time my dear y/n"

He stood up And left your grave, When jon walked out of the cemetery he walked right trough the park, he was looking around at people relaxing and playing until his eyes fell on a woman who sat under a big willow tree that was near the lake, she wore a long back summer dress had (your color and lenght hair) next to her lay a summer hat and in her lap was a sketch book.

Jon took a second good look at her he wasn't dreaming the woman looked exactly like you , it was rude to stare he knew that but he just could't take his eyes off you, he was thinking should i aproace her or not? He srugged and went to her. The woman looked up at the sound of somone walking up to her.

"Hello miss i saw you sitting all alone drawing and i was wondering if you would mind me sitting here with you"

"Oh not at all please sit down"

"Thank you, tell me what are you drawing?"

"I saw a few birds sitting in the tree and i got some insperation to draw them "

"May i see it?"

"Sure" she handed him the book

"It looks amazing mind if i look through the book?"

"Not at all go ahead"

"My my you quite got the talent miss?"

"Oh y/n y/l/n" she held out her hand

"Jon, jon pertwee" he shook her hand

"Nice to meet you jon, tell me have we met before? You look familiar".

"Umm no? I don't think so" of course he knew that they met before you had the exact same name as his wife.

"Oh what a shame I really could have sworn i have seen you before"

"Its fine, tell me dear are you perhaps intresed in taking a walk? "

"Sure why not" y/n put her stuff in a bag and hung it over her shoulder and put the hat on her head.

Jon grabed her arm and leaded the way "tell me y/n What do you do in your daily life?"

"Wel i have a job that im working for and some studdys inbetween"

"Ah i see, what about hobbies?"

"Oh i enjoy drawing in my free time and love music"

"Oh lovely, i had a wife who enjoyed the same hobbies as you"

"Had?"

"Yes unfortanetly she past away some years ago"

"Im sorry to hear that, i bet that the time she spent with you were some of her best"

"Yeah i hope so she was the light of my life, Anyway miss y/n would you like to come with me i really Would love to hear more about you and see more of your art"

"Sure why not " y/n started to pack her things,

Y/n wasn't afraid of him for some reason the felt save with him "so tell me where do you live jon?"

"Wel do you know the old land house up on the Hill outside of town?

"Oh yes i do, sinds a young age i felt drawn to the place even if i have never been inside there"

"Do you have the feeling that its familiar to you in one way ?"

"Now you say so yes i do, i had a dream once that i was inside the house reading infront of the fireplace and then a pair of arms wraped around me and huged me close it was very comforting"

"Hmm strange oh wel, Ah it looks like we are here" Jon opend the door and let her in

Y/n gasped it was exactly like her dream a coutch infront of the fireplace a rug lay on the floor embroidery with flowers, red curtans and beautyfull paintings, what caught her eye was one particular painting wich hangs next to the window, it was one painting of a woman in a victorian dress her hair fell in curly locks over her shoulder and her eyes looked at her.

"She looks just like me"

"That was my wife her name was (your full name) she was the love of my life until she got killed by some robbers"

"When did she die?"

Jon sighed and looked down sadly "she died (your birthdate) in 1871"

Y/n looked at him in shock "hold on somthing is not adding up here, you said she died in 1871 but its now 2021 thats 150 years ago????, what are you?!"

Jon looked up in embaresment "wel the true is that im a vampire i have been alive for over 300 years now"

Y/n was backing away but stoped in her tracks when she got an other vision "Oh my god!"

"Whats wrong? "

"I saw her again and you were there, you took her in she was wounded you took care of her"

"Y/n do you believe in recarnation?"

"Yes"

"When were you born?"

"(Your birthdate) why"

"Because its the exact same month and day that she died but its more than 100 years apart"

"It al makes sens now the visions, the feeling to be drawn to this place seing you in some of my dreams but with blury face my goodness"

"Y/n i hope its not weird but i would love to get to know you better if you don't mind that "

"No of course i wouldn't mind i just need time" she softly smiled

"Are you feeling scared?"

"No not at all i feel really save so save i have never been in my entire life"

"Come with me i want to show you something" jon softly grabed her hand and took her upstairs, they both stoped at a door "this was my wife her bedroom before we got married, i havn't been in here for a long time". He opened the door and they both were greated by a big canopy bed made up with silk (favorite color) sheets

"You can stay here as long as you like y/n, in the closet are some of her dresses they might fit you"

"Thanks jon, is it alright if i look around?"

"Sure dear go ahead, dinner wil be ready in an hour"

"Alright thanks " she smiled once jon was gone y/n started to look around, she aproched the wooden closet that stood against the wall once she opend it She was greated by dresses in all kind of difrent colors and materials " oh my gosh" she wispered she took some of them out the closet

but what was weird to her is that the clothes din't add up with the time line because there were some clothes from the 1880s 1890s and 1900s thill 1910s in there "hmm thats weird oh wel never mind a dress is a dress after all" she took a dress from the late 1880s and a pair of shoes and started to undress

Y/n was suprised with how well it fitted the corset wasn't to tight and she could move freely "it must be faith" she giggled "now lets see what els there is to find"

Y/n aproched the desk that stood in the corner of the room, she sat down in the chair and opend one of the drawers and was greated by art suplise "oh wow" she opend an other one and in there wer some hard cover books y/n grabed one and opend it, it was a portrait of jon then y/n remembered a dream she had once but the thing is that it wasn't a dream but a memory she sat in the garden sketching jon while he sat in the shadows reading a book.

"I really am the rencarnation, my love" she wispered

An hour went by and y/n went down stairs for dinner

"Ah my dear do you Enjoy your new room?"

"Oh its absolutly perfect i love it thank you"

"Its alright dear, now come on lets get dinner i bet that you are starving"

"Jon i got a question"

"Yes"

"What if im in deed a rencarnation of your late wife what then?"

"Then i wil make you imortal so that we could live together forever"

She looked at him '"jon c.. can i kiss you?"

"Of course"

Y/n stood on her tiptoes and placed her lips on his, memories from her past life came back to her "Oh my God i remember everything"

"I thought you died A long long time ago" jon cried softly

"I did but i got a second chance and i promice that this time it Wil be forever"

"Glad to know that dear" he huged her "now comeone lets have dinner"

And both of them knew now that no matter what they will be there for echoter the end

I hope you enjoyed reading 😊

#doctor who #third doctor #jon pertwee #classic who #3rd doctor #classic doctor who #vampire pertwee #jon pertwee x reader #third doctor x reader #name insert #doctor who x reader #au #sorry if its bad i tried

[iamacolor]

fashion queen! which nct era has the best fashun in ur opinion?? and if u were a designer which neos would u pick as ur models?

I was so excited to answer this that I wrote several pages and it basically turned into a style analysis for each unit so I sure hope you have some time on your hands to read everything I’ve just written! (I did not reread so sorry for any typing mistake)

NCT is known to be experimental in their music and that’s also the case in their styling so there’s a lot for me to get into even though sometimes it’s a miss. One thing I will say though is that when it comes to the styling in mv/teasers, what’s around the clothes is super important because if you have a very specific styling concept, your set design or graphic design needs to complement that and give the audience more clues on how to read all these elements together (the cherry bomb era is a great example of that with all the added graphic elements and the predominance of the colour pink) and recently I’ve found that the creative team has not really gone further than just putting nct in an outfit in front of a basic background so it makes for a pretty underwhelming result

But let’s move on to my favourite styling eras. I’m going to do this per unit (I’ll finish with NCT U) and define an era by its teaser pictures and the mv (and not go through all the performance looks during the promotion period)

I’m putting this under a read more because it’s reaaally long (I put pictures so that it’s not just one big chunk of text)

NCT 127

Easily the most experimental unit when it comes to fashion, especially in their first years where they would wear mix of sportswear, grunge references, avant-garde fashion and a lot of layers. When it comes to their debut “Firetruck”, I think it fitted the song really well but that it didn’t fit all the members equally (especially the younger ones, for me Taeyong and Taeil pulled it off the best – it’s expected of Taeyong but I also think that Taeil always stand out when they go for edgy/unconventional look, I think it really suits him).

Anyway, just to say that they were off to a very strong start and then I’m just going to kindly ignore the Limitless styling and move on to Cherry Bomb!

One thing nicely done for CB is how when you look at a group picture they’re clearly all following the same concept but they’re not necessarily matching or giving off the same vibes if you take them individually. I love the use of the colour pink which brings a) a great visual impact (you don’t ever see that much pink at once – especially on men) and b) an harmony despite the shapes and styles of their outfits being so vastly different, you’ve got ties, tousled, shirts, little frilled collars, stripes and all-over prints, sportswear and formal wear… (ex: taeyong’s short jacket is reminiscent of something a little luxurious, even maybe historical/noble with the little added embroidery-like details, it reminds me of these boleros jackets worn by toreros that are often red/gold VS doyoung’s overalls is an outfit that has a much more recent origin as it was first worn by factories workers, it’s usually blue or grey and is meant to be practical rather than pleasing to the eye -> here it fits very well with the general setting of the mv in what looks like an empty industrial storage space)

This second look is more of a game on how to deconstruct formal wear (there are less prints and no bold colours, their hair is less messy…) but they don’t just add sportswear like the bomber jacket, you can find rock or more “modern” elements with the leather jackets or the jean jackets. All in black and white so great contrast with the previous looks, although that mix and match concept is still there. My favourite elements are the checkered ones (worn by taeyong, taeil and haechan) as it reminds me of the strategy element of the chess game which fits pretty well with all the weapons and other arms visible in the mv (a bit like a nod to the game battleship)

This one I love that they developed their own print, especially since it’s another graphic element used elsewhere (see their album cover), because it’s a great way to really introduce their identity as a group, through the different visual elements they put out in a comeback, it’s like a logo but as a print. And all the teasers and the mv did a great job at mixing 2D/3D contents so that’s another nice way to be cohesive. It’s not my fave look out of the 3 (especially because I do not approve of that belt-suspenders-bag they gave Johnny, it’s like everything you don’t want to put a dancer in and it’s ugly as well) but I still like the fact that’s it’s another nod to the battle/strategy aspect of this comeback, like they’re on a mission to hit the stage and conquer it

Then fast forward to my other favourite one, Simon Says! (No teaser pictures here because they don’t show anything or they show not enough lol)

First of all THE MASKS

Oh how I wish they could’ve been shown more (imagine teasers with the members wearing them!!! I would’ve loved individual teasers based on each of the masks concepts) Once again, a great to have group concept without making everyone wear the same thing. They’re all super different and full of details. Haechan’s is the only one from what I could who’s mask is actually a mask and not a fully covering hood. The materials and techniques used on these are either evocative of “fragile” things like glass and flowers but theses elements have their own hidden strength. Some others are covered in lace, pearls, fringes or fur…all these things are usually considered to be precious or even luxurious but it covers their faces and their identity and they throw it away in rebellion (and I think it’s also super interesting how Taeyong who takes off his mask first has the least ornamented one)

Then the outfits themselves. Simon Says in an interesting MV because unlike most others they wear one outfit for most of the MV (the second one appears quite late in the mv and is lit and staged in a way that makes it less visible). It’s a mostly grey/white set of outfits which is usually a colour combo for office wear or maybe factory workers, it’s not something that can seem very exciting or edgy. The styling in these outfits reminds me of the works of Japanese designers who came to Paris in the 80’s and kind of shook the whole high fashion system by bringing a different type of shapes, aesthetic and purpose to fashion (Rei Kawakubo, Yohji Yamamoto…). These designers  went on to become super successful and inspired another wave of “avant-garde” designers nicknamed “the 6 of Anvers” (Anvers is a city in Belgium), this group includes Martin Margiella, Dries Van Noten…And to me the outfits in Simon Says really fit into this aesthetic. Unconventional fits, various layers, it’s not so much mix and match than a work on contrast between structure and fluidity (Yuta’s half skirt with un-trimed edges, Haechan’s long shirt with the long bow and the fitted jacket, Mark’s top with the various see-through layers of different lengths…).

An other interesting details (which to me calls back to the mask and that tension in the song/concept of letting go/being free of expectations), is the way they all have thick strings tied on their feet/ankles. Not holding them back because their feet aren’t tied together but there’s still this clear restriction of the garment itself, a reminder that there are tied to something and not completely free (also an interesting choice when dressing dancers who would need to have no added weight or discomfort in their outfit to dance but visually something is holding their ankles)

Honorable mentions:

Kick It– they managed to create very memorable outfits while taking inspirations from already well known elements (both for the fighting/training outfits and the bomber jackets). The black and white outfits especially are very original as performance outfits/dancing clothes since the og garment they’re inspired by has already such a strong identity outside of the performing arts and I don’t think I’ve ever seen it be used as a stage outfit? Or concept? It’s a nice exemple of how you can take inspiration for something designed to be useful and to be efficient (in fighting) and turn it into an aesthetic.

Truthfully, martial art training outfit was already an “aesthetic” on its own but they made it a performance costume and now I do feel like it’s one of these looks that everyone will remember (like if there was a “most memorable kpop outfits” list it could easily have kick it’s black/white fits). The rest of the outfits for that concept weren’t as memorable/original to me although I feel like it showed a new approach to the styling of nct 127 as a group since they all had very similar outfits this time (especially when wearing the jackets).

Also, interestingly,  that shot of Jaehyun that had everyone go “wow” ? Well it’s impactful because it’s him and he looks like that and it’s shot in a very specific way, but it’s also even more impactful because he’s the only one who gets to wear that kind of outfit in the mv. Everyone else has 3 sets of outfits (black and white, shiny black, red jacket and black pants) but he has 4 and that suit is only used in that shot which makes for a greater impact!

And I feel like Kick It in terms of styling opened a new era for NCT 127 has it kind of broke their usual mix and match/edgy concept. This time they were clearly referencing something already well known (either martial arts, the 90s…), and the members were all matching and they kept on doing that with the military jackets in punch, the other 90s concept in nct 2020…

Touch – for the way the outfits match the sets (in all their individual sets their outfits have a detail in a matching colour), the focus on colours !!! You can see that this whole concept was designed with this colour game/colour progression between the outfits and the set in mind. It’s just very pleasing to the eyes and a great contrast to their usual stuffs (also I wrote my graduation paper on colours so I am really into creative use of colours like this)

OK now moving on to Dream!!

The interesting thing about Dream compared to NCT 127 is that from the beginning although their outfits had to match the song an the concept of the comeback it also had to match their age. Dream’s a group that had to look young when debuting (to the point where they wore outfits that made them look even younger than they were which is rarely done for boy groups) and then they had to transition into adulthood, and all of that had to be made visible. In that aspect, I really like the styling for We Young and Boom (especially when you look at them at the same time).

For We Young, the styling is meant to be reminiscent of school/boy scout uniforms but with a marine vibe. It makes for playful outfits that aren’t too childish but that also aren’t grown up. I prefer the “seaside” outfits as I don’t really like school uniforms as a concept for styling and I think it’s really a choice that suited them and the song so well, it really fitted their energy. It’s playful but it also has a vintage touch to it as these outfits with their stripes and their squared flap at the back date back to the XIXth century (I just found out that it all started with the queen Victoria dressing up her kid in an outfit inspired by the royal navy uniforms for a painting after a cruise ).

Boom on the other side is their first proper “grown-up” concept. We go up was already more grown up but still very “teenager-ish” and although they were mostly teenagers when they did Boom it was clear that this was supposed to be their first entry into “adulthood” as a group at least. And although they did wear a sportswear/casual outfits which is something that isn’t related to age (and I really like the black and white “skeleton” set which already feels more grown-up and more “stylish” than the other casual outfit) , they wore two other “grown-up” elements: suits and all-jean outfits.

And yeah teenagers, and kids wear jeans too but a full jean-on-jean outfit is more of a “grown-up” fashion choice and it makes them look like young men rather than boys. As for the suits, I just really love when stylists play with the codes of that garment (length of the jacket, tightness of the pants, the way the shirt is tucked in…).

Notice how Renjun has a really short jacket, Chenle’s pants are wide, Jeno has a tail…Once again, a really interesting aspect of Kpop is the variations of the same concept based on the members. In the mv, there is a tension between their more grown up selves (the one in suits, the one with a craft/a path) and their young selves (the one running around in the field, the one laying down in the flowers and eating a cake). And there is also in these outfits and the contrast between them this tension, this contrast…which path should they go? The jeans are the more laide back, innocent outfits, whereas the suits come with responsibilities and status (and you’ll notice that in the scene where jisung is left alone to blow his candle it’s when he’s wearing jeans not when he’s in the suits).

Now on to WayV!!

WayV are different from the two in the sense than when they debuted they couldn’t have an “age” concept or an edgy concept because 127 and dream had already taken those and I feel like for that reason they’re still looking for what makes them stand out visually from the others (and in my opinion it’s not in whatever they were wearing for turn back time!). WayV’s concept is space and time travel, it’s building a new life, a new worl, going beyond anything! In my mind, they’re either supposed to feel a bit “otherworldly” (either spectacular or literally like they’re from another world/another universe, a little bit futuristic maybe?) or to look like explorers/travellers (they have a lot of travel/transportation “gears” references in their outfits). Their MVs also have a very different production than the other nct mvs (the scale and the way it’s filmed, the sets…it’s a different approach and it’s usually much more “grand” for their title tracks). The great thing about WayvV styling is usually that they match the outfits well with the world that the mv is set in (like in Moonwalk for example you get a sense of the world they’re in and the fact that it’s not ours or at least not as we know it now through the way they dress – you can’t really say oh it’s inspired by this era or by this or that because -at least- to me it immediately gives me a vibe of something that could be worn in a sci-fi movie, almost like a costume) or that they allude to travel in their styling.

When they debuted with Regular they went for a very sleek and high fashion look which worked really well for them! Even their more “casual” looks were a bit striking and I think that’s very “wayv-like” to me.

Same goes for Take Off where they mix the individual styles (and I don’t like ten’s leopard fur sleeveless jacket at all) and the group concepts – the “flying” outfits and the “racing” outfits (that last one is my favourite! I love the silhouette it creates with the tight pants and the larger tops with an emphasis on the waist).

There’s something a bit extra to WayV - which is why some of their outfits remind me of costumes more than fashion while at the same time they’re the most “high fashion” unit– like the “flying” outfit in Take Off are recognizable as “flying gear” but you can’t really tell what they’re flying, it feels once again like something that they could wear in like star wars or a similar kind of story.

Imagine a movie about 7 men on another planet trying to come together to overcome the dark forces or whatever’s bad on their planet in a futuristic society with a mix of “traditional” and “trendy” outfits? That’s WayV. The movie the 5th Sense? That’s WayV but on steroids. They’re also the only group with actual characters in their mvs, they’re all supposed to have a backstory or an individual setting and find a way to get together in their mvs.

Anyway all that to say that it’s hard for me to pick an era for them because they’ve only had a few and they still feel like they’re looking to solidify their concept, and since moonwalk and turn back time really set the styling in different worlds than ours, you have to look at how they fit in that world rather than ours and I think Moonwalk does it best since it’s the most cohesive one visually. But then I think Regular had the best individual styling!

Okay this is super long but we’re finally getting to NCT U!!!!

Number one favourite:

The Year Party outfits!!!! I’ve already talked about this but I love when they say we’ll put them in suits and then since they have to make a different one for each of them they cut bits an dpieces of the suits here and there, play with lengths. It’s not a revolutionary concept but in terms of searching for a shape, searching for variations of an already so famous, so well-known garment (everyone has seen a suit, and so many designers have already deconstructed it and then put it back together and so on) it’s so nice, it’s almost like a full collection given how many members there are and it’s just a good tailoring work.It almost feel like an exercise of how many variations of an outfit can you think of? And it looks fun to do! It’s all about the details and the way the layers are set together.

The accessories add to the “formal attire” aspect of it. It almost has a ceremonial look to it. A bit of royalty with the futuristic vibe usually associated with WayV. The dark blue suits were pretty classic, the most interesting details (for me at least) were on the light blue ones. Especially since it’s a rare colour to find in formal wear or in ceremonial wear. In general, I feel like it’s a pretty rare colour in fashion outside of like shirts and baby clothes? I think it was a great styling choice for a content like the year party although I do wish they (either NCT or WayV who’ve touched upon this kind of outfit a bit already) would do a full comeback with this kind of styling (like the lighter version of the black and green outfits in SuperM’s One). It’s not revolutionary but it was something new for NCT and I really hope they use that elegant/futuristic concept once again.

Also in these outfits, the jewelry is super important and adds to the “grand” aspect of these outfits. The concept is that these aren’t ordinary outfits for ordinary men, we’re witnessing something “special” and so they aren’t wearing their usual jewels either (of course the big chains are still there but differently look at that necklace jaehyun is wearing)

Honorable mention:

Boss & Baby Don’t Stop (they’re different but they go together in my mind lol). Look at them in their uniforms! And also they had doyoung wearing these sunglasses

Ok I think I’m done, if you’ve made it this far thank you so much and I hope it was a nice read!!

As for who would I chose as my models…it really depends on what I’d make them wear tbh for menswear the things I’d like to design would either be something like formal wear or knitwear – I’d pick Lucas, Taeyong and Doyoung (I think they’re the most model-like members and could pull off pretty much anything even my non-edgy concept because I can’t do that lol and they pose very well) and then depending on the concept I’d pick between Winwin, Jaehyun, Kun, Jungwoo, Taeil, Haechan and Shotaro (the way I struggled to remember all the members at once…there are too many really)

#this is soooo long omg I didn't know I had that much to say wow #I hope you've managed to read it all and that it was somewhat coherent and clear #now it's time to eat #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct 2020 #fashion #leemarx #I've got mail #vinformation

[maribatlife]

Without Context Pt. 3

Prev

AO3

Shorter wait this time guys!

Tag List:

@bee-wrecker

“This is unbelievable. You’re probably the only person in Gotham who wouldn’t recognize that name. Wayne, as in Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham.”

“Oh, is he your dad?”

“Pixie, never change. But the rest of the family is going to want to meet you soon. I let you know when.”

“Sure, my schedule is wide open.” He gave her an expectant look. “Oh, duh, you need to be able to contact me. How could I forget that? Silly Marinette, hehehe.” She babbled as she wrote down her phone number for him.

“Thanks Mari, I’ll text you later.” He said as he put his helmet back on and swung off the balcony.

As Jason left, Marinette realized how late in the day it was getting. “Gah, the shop! How could I forget!”

“Marinette, Marinette, MARINETTE” Tikki shouted. “You’re the owner, you decide when you open.”

“But the customers….” And she rushed down the stairs.

The day was fairly slow, a few people popped in to see the new shop. Jason texted around noon to set up dinner for Friday.

Right before she was about to close, 3 women entered the store. Marinette let them browse as she set up for the next day. “Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked, having run out of busy work.

“Actually, yeah,” the girl in purple replied. “Our,” she paused, clearly trying to think of the right word. “Brother just met his soulmate.”

“And you’re meeting them soon?” Marinette finished.

“Exactly! Plus, I’m sure there’s going to be a huge fancy-ass party as soon as his dad can get everything together.”

“Your site said you do commissions?” The one in the wheelchair asked.

“I do, the ready-wear can be fitted and ready for the end of the week, and commissions are dependent on the final pattern. I have a look book here if you would like to browse for ideas. We can schedule a consult appointment for later in the week...” she trailed off.

“Oh, right, I’m Barbara, this is Stephanie,” she gestured to the blonde in purple, “And Cassandra.” She motioned at the young Asian girl with them. “Later in the week definitely works for the consults.”

“So you met your Soulmate?” Stephanie asked as she browsed the racks.

“Yes, a few days ago.” Marinette sheepishly admitted. “He startled me and I screamed in his face.”

“Well, it’s better than mine,” Stephanie laughed. “Mine scared me at night and I smashed him in the face with a brick.”

That night, while embroidering on her couch, Marinette heard a thump from her balcony. Seemingly ignoring it she placed her hoop on the coffee table and reached for the bracelet she kept in her pocket. As she turned around, she saw the giant shadow, entering through her balcony door. Batman, she thought. What the actual f-

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” his low voice boomed.

“Oh look it’s the man with a giant batsuit,” She sassed back.

“It’s Batman.”

“The man with a giant batsuit.” No way was she going to let him know that he had actually frightened her. “What do you want, furry?”

“What are your intentions towards Hood?”

“Well I figured that we would ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after.” Her saccharine voice biting through his armor. “Oh, maybe we could raise unicorns and exist off candy all day long.” She dropped the tone, “Go jump off a roof. Our plans are between us and if you want to know you should try building a better relationship with Hood. Now get out of my apartment before I call the cops.” She turned back and continued her embroidery. After he left, she locked the sliding door, no more unexpected visitors tonight. She had barely covered a petal of the flower, when she heard another thump, this one significantly lighter. One of the birds she thought.

On her balcony, Robin struggled to open the door. He had managed to get it unlocked but did not realize she kept a barrier on the track to stop it from opening.

She sighed before getting up to open the door. “What do you want Draco?”

“My name is Robin. I do not know this Draco you refer to.”

“You poor, uneducated child.”

“-tt- How can you be worthy of my brother?”

“Take it up with the universe, kid.” Robin was visibly getting angry with her, but she was done.

“I challenge you to a duel,” He snapped, hand flying towards his sword.

“Nope, nope, no you don’t.” Nightwing swung down and grabbed the sword out of his hand.

Unhand my sword Nightwing. She must prove her worth to join this family.”

“Robin, that is not how any of this works. I’m so sorry, Miss.” He directed towards Marinette. “Baby Bird and the Bat have issues respecting privacy. Have a good night.” He called out as he jumped off the balcony, dragging Robin with him.

“You know what,” Marinette told the kwamis that had gathered around her as she secured the door again. She cast a forlorn glance at her embroidery sitting abandoned on the coffee table, “I think I’m just going to go to bed. It’s too late for this.”

Early Friday morning, the 3 women from earlier came by to pick up their altered items. A few hours later, Marinette had worked herself up into a full panic. “Tikki,” she whined from the depths of her closet. “What am I going to wear? What if they hate me? Gahh, I can’t do this right now!”

“Marinette, whatever you choose will be fine.”

“But Tikki, this isn’t a normal meeting. This is meeting my soulmate’s family! It has to be perfect.”

“What about the Chat dress,” Plagg interjected. “It’s black and don’t you always say you can’t go wrong with black?”

She dragged out a 50s style off the shoulder Swing dress with a built in alternating neon green and black tulle petticoat.

“Oh and the Ladybug heels,” Tikki dragged out the aforementioned deceptively simple black shoes. Marinette had painted the sole and shank of the heels to mimic her original Ladybug costume.

“Hmm,” she mused. “What to style it with?” She quickly added a few loose waves to her hair, before hesitating. To bring Kaalki’s glasses or not? At a nod from Tikki she grabbed them and they shifted into a pair of cat-eye glasses. “Alright, I think I’m ready.” At that moment the doorbell rang. “Oh, that must be Jason.”

“Marinette,” Tikki said from her bag, “Don’t forget the Macarons!”

“Right,” she grabbed the box. “Thanks Tikki.”

Jason stood, leaned against the hood of a cherry red convertible. “You ready to meet everyone?”

“Can you go over everyone again on the ride?”

“Not a problem,” he opened the door to let her in. “First, we have Bruce and Alfred. Alfred raised Bruce after his parents were murdered. He knows everything and is amazing.”

“And Bruce is your dad, right?”

“Yes, he might go full Brucie on you.

“What is full Brucie?”

“Oh that’s what we call it when he acts like a total dumbass. Dick coined it, he was the first one that was adopted. He’s now a Cop in Bludhaven. After me, B took in Tim. He’s sixteen and already graduated High School, right now he’s working at WE in R&D. The last of us is Damian, he’s Bruce’s bio son. His mom showed up a coupla years ago and told B, “surprise, it’s a boy!” He’s an angry little shit.”

“Do they know that I know?”

“Nope, figured we could have fun with that. That’s why you’ll get the Brucie treatment.” Soon they pulled off the long mountain drive onto a private road where an ornate gate stood open, waiting for them.

“They’re watching us as we pull up right?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Jason parked the car next an imposing staircase, leading up to the soaring Gothic entry.

“Wow,” Marinette muttered under her breath. “I wish I had my sketch book.”

Jason chuckled as he led her up the stairs. “You’ll have plenty of chances to sketch to your heart’s content.” As they reached the top step, the double doors swung open to reveal an older man in a suit. “See spies everywhere,” Jason murmured in her ear.

“Master Jason, welcome home. This must be Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

“Hello Monsieur Pennyworth, please call me Marinette.”

“Of course, Miss Marinette, if you call me Alfred.”

As they walked into the entry, they heard a cry of, “She’s here!” As, who Marinette could only assume was Dick, flipped off the second-floor balustrade, swinging on the chandelier on the way down. “Hi, Marinette, right?” He held out his hand to her.

“You must be Dick.”

“Aw, is Jay-bird talking about me?”

Marinette got a teasing glint in her eye. “Oh yes, he mentioned how you can’t stop yourself from jumping off of high places.”

Before she could continue, she was interrupted by a wordless scream of unadulterated rage. “Drake, get back here and face your punishment like a man!”

Two boys came running down the stairs, the younger chasing the older with, wait is that a katana. They really weren’t any good at this whole secret identity thing, were they, thought Marinette.

“Really Demon Spawn, you’re going to do this today?” Jason said as he plucked him off the ground. Dick was just pinching his nose in exasperation.

#jasonette #maribat #without context au #My writing

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 44 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter:  Sutan gave Violet a token of his affection.

This Chapter: Violet works her ass off, Pearl feels restless, Courtney takes action, and Bianca has a surprising encounter.

***

Trixie smiled to himself as he walked around the floor, watching his designers all work on their various bits. They were still only getting into gear, the prêt-à-porter part of the collection now in the hands of tailoring and Bendela. Jovan and Blu were the designers who oversaw that process, the rest of them now focused completely on the runway show.

Trixie had sent out an email to everyone that Monday, outlining the timeline for the couture concepts. Couture was a lot more difficult to plan, since those outfits were typically made in the design department by the same designer from start to finish. It wasn’t haute couture, which meant they still used machines, but it took time to make the elaborate gowns and high detailed pieces Trixie knew Raja and Fame expected them to deliver.

“Hey boss.” Trixie turned to look at Gia, the woman smiling at him. “Can you take a look at these?”

“Of course,” Trixie walked over to Gia’s station, the concepts for their custom-made jewelry all laid out on her desk. They had started to get the first samples from the jewelers they used, Fame insisting that Galactica didn’t use anyone else's designs unless they absolutely had to.

“I like this,” Trixie took the small dangling earrings Gia had handed him. “But I think this,” Trixie pointed at a necklace, “needs to be redone. The chain looks too flimsy.”

Gia nodded, noting it down. Trixie knew Bob was taking care of the shoes, their first samples of the heels Fame wanted arriving in the upcoming weeks.

“Good job,” Trixie smiled, squeezing Gia’s shoulder before he walked away and over towards Violet’s table.

He liked having Violet on his team, the woman clearly more than ready to do the work, but they were still finding each other. Trixie was actually a little sad that Violet’s wasn’t confiding in him yet, that it seemed like she believed that they weren’t on the same team and that he wasn’t there to help her, which Trixie believed to be the most crucial part of his job.

If his designers failed, he failed, and with them the company.

Violet had built what seemed like a little fort of fabric rolls, the sewing table that was attached to her desk piled high with shades of ivory and cream, boxes of golden beads stacked on top of each other.

Violet was leaning over her desk, gigantic headphones over her ears, a miniature embroidery frame placed on it. Trixie watched for a minute, Violet’s clever fingers sewing rectangle beads in long lines on what seemed to be the base structure of a bodice.

She didn’t acknowledge him, whatever music she was listening to drowning him out, and Trixie wasn’t going to interrupt her flow, excitement curling in his belly at whatever Violet was going to pull out.

***

Violet finished the row she was working on, her fingertips raw and red from the intricate work she was doing.

She realized that her back was aching, and as she stood up to stretch it out, her shoulder radiating a moment of pain, her eyes fell on the gigantic clock above the design floor door, time a little past 6.

Huh.

She hadn’t noticed that it had gotten so late, since none of her coworkers had left. Violet looked around, her headphones still over her ears. Normally, the floor would be deserted by now, but instead, she saw Max surrounded by parchment paper and rulers. Alexis was draping a gorgeous golden fabric, Kiara was elbow deep in a structured top, and when she looked over at Jovan, he was bent over a bucket of what had to be dye, the chemical scent reaching her nose now that she was paying attention.

Violet raised her hands above her head, her shoulder aching terribly as she popped her joints. She wasn’t anywhere near done, and didn’t have any reason to go home, but she still needed a break, so she grabbed the glass she had sitting on her desk, making her way towards the breakroom.

Violet kept her headphones on, not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but when she turned the corner, she saw Blu standing by the microwave, the ginger haired woman holding what looked like a cup of ramen, shoveling it into her mouth.

“... Blu?” Violet pulled her headphones off, resting them around her neck.

“Oh!” Blu turned around, her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she swallowed. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“Eating this?” Blu titled her cup of noodles. “I know it isn’t the most glamorous meal-”

“No, I mean-” Violet didn’t know how to phrase it without sounding like a bitch. “You’re usually the first one to leave.”

“Ha!” Blu laughed, putting her food down and leaning against the break room counter. “I am, aren’t I?” Blu smiled. “When we’re not on crunch, we all rush out of here like rats trying to have a semblance of a normal life.”

“Ah…” Violet nodded her head. “That makes sense.”

Violet had thought her new coworkers were just a little lazy, that they didn’t want to work, but it seemed like they were simply sprinters, while she had always seen herself as more of a marathon runner.

“I’ll go back to happy hour as soon as I get the chance, but for now, I’m eating ramen for dinner. Like a champion.” She flashed a bright smile, drinking the rest of the broth and chucking the container into the trash can across the room, lifting up her hands in a victory motion. “Back to the grindstone!”

***

Pearl rested her chin in her hands, watching Adore dig into a pile of Buffalo wings in the hipster gastropub where they’d chosen to have dinner. The first time she watched Adore eat with all the grace and dignity of a 12 year old boy, she’d found it cute. Charming, even. But now, suddenly, it just seemed gross.

She pushed her own plate away, her food barely touched, sighing slightly as she twirled a piece of hair around her finger.

“You okay, baby?” Adore asked, wiping at her face with the back of her hand, which only spread the hot sauce around.

“Uh...yeah. I’m alright.” Pearl smiled, knowing that Katya would tear her a new one if she let her bad mood explode all over Adore. “Just not very hungry.”

“Aww, I’m sorry.” Adore reached out, plucking a steak fry from Pearl’s plate. “Wanna wrap this shit up and take it to go?”

“Nah, that’s okay. You enjoy,” said Pearl.

“Everything okay here?”

A delicate hand slid a stack of napkins onto the table. Pearl looked up to meet the eyes of their waitress, a petite girl with dark eyes, honey-blonde hair gathered in a ponytail, one strap of her tank top sliding tantalizingly down her tanned shoulder. The nametag resting above her perky tits read “Abby.”

“Thanks,” Pearl said, gesturing to the much-needed napkins, and Abby winked at her.

“Is there anything you need?” Abby asked, eyes raking over Pearl’s body in a way that made her shiver. “Another round, maybe?”

“Yeah...I could go for another round,” Pearl said slowly. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, making sure to show off the low cut top she had worn under her leather jacket, her wrist flexing.

“Coming right up…”

Pearl watched as she sauntered away, wondering how much of the swinging hips were for her benefit, when Abby tossed a glance back over her shoulder, giving Pearl a tiny, secret grin before turning to the bartender.

Adore cleared her throat, and Pearl snapped back to attention.

Right.

Date. Adore. Best behavior.

Got it.

“You know, I’m really psyched that you’re coming to Thanksgiving. I think it’ll be good for Bianca to get to know you better. So she can see what a great person you are for herself,” Adore flashed a hopeful smile that suddenly made Pearl feel sick with guilt.

Why couldn’t she just commit to this awesome girl and stop being such an asshole?

“Yeah, no, that’ll be cool.”

“Totally,” Adore smiled.

Pearl polished off the last of her beer, watching as Adore dipped one of her wings into the blue cheese dressing, nose wrinkling just slightly as the chunky white sauce dripped off the hot wing on the way to her mouth.

“Um, I need to go use the restroom,” Pearl said, sliding off her stool.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Adore asked, concerned.

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

Pearl steeled her nerves before heading to the bathrooms, just as Abby approached their table with a glass of beer on a tray.

“And where are you running off to?” she asked coyly, fluttering her lashes.

“Bathroom… Is that okay with you?”

Abby giggled. “I’ll try not to miss you too much.”

Pearl laughed, shaking her head as she continued on her way.

***

“Hey Pearl?” Adore asked, pulling her bomber jacket tighter around herself, the November chill an unhappy reminder that winter was around the corner. They were walking home from dinner, and Adore couldn’t stop thinking about that waitress.

It wasn’t like Pearl had done anything wrong--just a bit of light, harmless flirting. Two weeks ago, she’d probably barely even have noticed. But ever since that conversation they’d had about being open, Adore found herself on high alert, mind racing every time her girlfriend so much as glanced at someone else. Which was a lot.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

“You mean like tonight?” Pearl joked, and Adore forced out a strained laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Then why-” Adore paused, unsure of how this conversation should go. “Why not just…try being monogamous?” Adore felt horribly exposed, and even a little scared, but she wanted this to work, wanted them to work. “I mean I know I don’t want anyone else, so…”

“I like the idea of being able to be spontaneous. Without it being like, a big thing,” Pearl explained, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I think you’re great. But sometimes…It’s like no matter how great pizza is, sometimes you want a burger. You know?”

“Please.” Adore scoffed, adding an eye roll for good measure.

“Adore-”

“You mean burgers like the waitress tonight? Is she the thing you’re suddenly hungry for?” Adore demanded.

“Will you please chill?” Pearl looked genuinely uncomfortable, the expression one Adore had never seen on her girlfriend’s face before. “There are people around.”

“It’s New York, nobody gives a FUCK!” Adore yelled the last word for good measure, no one turning around, which proved her point. “Answer the question!”

“You’re acting like a child,” Pearl said calmly, and if Adore wasn’t mad before (she was), now she was absolutely fucking furious.

“I am asking a very simple question! Was our waitress tonight the type of girl you like to fuck? Or, I’m sorry, was she the burger you’re craving?”

“Yes! Yes, she was. Does that make you happy?” Pearl asked, stopping and turning to Adore, one hand on her hip.

“Yeah, I’m thrilled. Can’t you tell?” Adore sniffled, trying to hold back the tears pricking her eyes.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re acting like this,” Pearl said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone.

“Fine! Then maybe I’ll just go home by myself tonight!”

“Fine.”

“Fuck you, Pearl!” Adore turned and stomped down the street, back in the direction of the subway, hands stuffed into her pockets, finally letting the tears stream down her cheeks.

***

“Lovely eyes,”

Violet looked up, the expression on Sutan’s face telling her that this wasn’t the first time he had said her name. She was sitting in bed, back resting against the headboard, doing her very best to distract herself from the wrapped ice cubes she was holding in her right hand.

Not that her phone or the puzzle game Katya had suggested she tried ages ago actually helped.

Her fingers stung, but not as badly as her feet had in the ice baths she used to endure as a professional ballet dancer, those sometimes so painful she had cried and had to be held, Milk whispering into her hair that everything would be okay.

“Yes?”

She had stayed at work until past 8, actually expecting to go home and crash, dinner completely forgotten, when she had fished her phone out of her bag, a text from Sutan asking if she wanted to come over.

Violet had been exhausted, getting everything ready for her presentation in the morning leaving her completely drained, but she liked spending time with Sutan, and even if she was never going to spend the money herself, she loved the thread count of his sheets, his bed a guarantee of a good night’s sleep.

The fact that Sutan chest had quickly become her favorite place to dose off not something she’d be willing to admit unless she was being tortured.

“Do you need more ice?” Sutan smiled, looking out at her. He was hanging up his shirts, the dry cleaners bag on the door to his walk in closet. Violet knew Sutan had a housekeeper, but he apparently preferred to handle his closet himself, which Violet guessed she understood. “I still can’t believe you’d-”

“I’m fine.” Violet cut him off, moving off the bed so she could stand up. It was sweet that Sutan worried, actually, really sweet, but Violet knew her body, and most importantly, she knew her body's boundaries, and this, this wasn’t anywhere close. “I am.”

Violet had slaved away all day, Fame and Raja making their judgement calls on who got accepted for the couture line and who didn’t tomorrow, and if Violet’s fingers had to bleed for her gown to be accepted, that was a price she was more than willing to pay.

She walked over to Sutan, stepping into his space, the block of ice still in her hand as she got on her toes, pressing a kiss against his lips.

“I promise.”

***

Pearl closed the door to her room with her foot, her body warm and relaxed, her hands drying her hair with her towel.

She had taken a shower as soon as she had gotten home, the annoyance at how Adore acted crawling under her skin. Pearl threw herself down on her bed, picking her phone up from where she had left it earlier that evening.

“Huh…” Pearl bit her lip. She had expected to see several calls from Adore, or at least a text, but there was nothing, her phone devoid of any notifications from the other woman.

Pearl rolled over, lying on her back and looking up at the ceiling, her stomach uncomfortable with the sensation that she had probably hurt Adore, the expression on her face when they had broken apart painful to look at.

Pearl sighed, tapping her fingers against her stomach. It was a new sensation for her to be unsure, but if there was one thing she knew, it was that Pearl Liaison never texted first.

***

“And you better make it quick!”

Fame watched as Courtney left her office, the blonde closing the door behind her, leaving her and Raja alone. It had taken the majority of the afternoon, but they had finally finished the selection of the looks that entered the final running towards the opening and closing spots.

Fame loved the couture presentations, the designers really showcasing their enthusiasm and personalities since they only had half finished products to present. She liked being able to touch, to see the delicate dreams and the decadence that was a signature of couture.

“Tea?”

Fame already knew that Raja would say yes, the pot on her desk one Ivy had brought over when the redhead had found out that they would be staying at Fame’s.

“Hold the sugar please.”

Fame smiled, grabbing two of the jade green teacups Ivy had brought along too, quickly pouring them both a cup. It wasn’t often that she took the time to just relax at work, that she took time to simply sit with Raja.

“Mmh,” Raja inhaled, the orange blossoms creating the most delicious fragrance.

“Mmh indeed,” Fame chuckled, taking her first sip of the hot tea, allowing herself to sit back on the ivory couch.

“So, we sent the list off.” Raja looked at her. “How are you feeling about the direction right now? You’re not going to decide that you hate cream and ivory on February 2nd, are you?”

“Uh! How dare you,” Fame huffed, actually feeling a little offended. “That was one time.”

“One time too many.”

If anyone but Raja had said it, Fame would have punished them severely, but as it stood, Raja was one of the few people in her life who could get away with openly criticizing her.

“I’m an old woman, Famie.” Raja smirked. “My heart can’t take the pressure.”

“Please,” Fame rolled her eyes. “Don’t take that attitude with me.”

“Someone has to keep you in check, darling.”

“I don’t need to be kept in check.” Fame had to keep from rolling her eyes again, Raja toeing the line of what was acceptable. “If anything, I need support right now.”

“Hmm?” Raja raised an eyebrow, her cup at her lips.

“We’re celebrating Thanksgiving with Patrick’s family, and his mother always wreaks havoc on my skin,” Fame groaned. Patrick’s family was coming to New York, his two sisters and brother all showing up with brats and partners in tow. “I swear, every year it’s the same. If we wanted to have kids, we would have had them by now.”

***

It just wasn’t fair, Aiden thought, staring at his rejected prototypes. He had killed himself all week to come up with 4 different couture concepts for the opening and closing looks, and all of them had been shot down.

This morning, they’d presented their designs to Fame and Raja, each of the designers getting less than a minute to pitch based on sketches, samples, and preliminary construction and then the upstairs bosses had spent all afternoon discussing them, an email sent to the whole design team announcing the finalists a little before 5 pm.

Which was why Aiden was the only one still there at 7, the disappointment of not being included taking over an hour to really settle in. To transform into anger at the utter unfairness of it all. He rose from his desk, wandering over to Alexis’ desk, where 3 dress forms were standing, all of them in looks that made it through. He supposed, though, that was pretty standard, Alexis being one of the most experienced designers there who’d been at Galactica almost as long as Trixie, her specialty being draping the kind of elegant gowns that Fame went gaga over.

No, he wasn’t mad about Alexis.

But Violet...how could that girl catch every single break since the second she walked through the doors? He glared at her muslin prototype, the skirt flaring out, the muslin bodies structured and stuck to the mannequin. On Violet’s table, she had left behind the actual bodice, golden beads sparkling, a portion of the skirt laid out with the intricate pattern. It felt tired and overworked, something he refused to identify burning in his stomach.

Anyone could do beads, anyone could do what Violet did, but unfortunately, he wasn’t in charge, so she continued to get away with it.

Aiden let out a huge sigh, trudging back over to his desk to pack his things.

Another shit week down the drain.

***

After Miss Fame’s comments about her hair, Courtney needed to do something drastic. She knew that Fame’s own salon was a fancy place in SoHo called Jujubee’s, so she’d called to get an appointment. At first, the receptionist told her that there was a 2 month waiting list, but when Courtney name-dropped Miss Fame, sort of accidentally implying that her bossreally wanted to get her in as soon as possible, she’d put her on hold for less than a minute and then informed her that she had an appointment on Saturday with the owner of the salon herself.

Courtney was pretty proud of herself, if a bit intimidated, entering the salon. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting from the owner, but it certainly wasn’t the adorable, friendly woman with a cute little baby bump.

“Hi, you must be Courtney. I’m Juju. What are we doing today?” she said, shaking Courtney’s hand warmly and turning her chair to face the mirror.

“Oh, um...I work for Miss Fame at Galactica, and-”

“Yikes, sorry to hear that,” Jujubee quipped, and Courtney’s eyes widened. “That’s a joke, honey. She’s one of my best friends.”

“Oh. Right.” Courtney laughed nervously. “So, she um...she found out that I was doing my own color and uh-”

“Oy. Okay well…” Juju inspected Courtney’s hair closely. “It doesn’t look too damaged. I think we should fix up your roots, and maybe take down some of the brassy tones in your color, give you a cooler, brighter blonde? That’ll really suit your complexion. And this cut...I’d like to take off a couple of inches, just to make sure we get all of the split ends, maybe some layers in the front...and how do you feel about bangs?”

“I...like bangs.”

“I think they’ll really frame your face nicely.” Juju grinned, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just relax, we’re gonna take good care of you.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much!”

Pretty soon, Courtney’s nerves disappeared entirely, and she was chatting with Jujubee like they were old friends. She found herself wondering what this down-to-earth, funny, warm person had in common with Fame, and then felt a little bad.

There was obviously a whole side to Fame that Courtney didn’t get to see--she already knew that from Adore. And besides, Bianca was warm and hilarious, and she was also close friends with Miss Fame.

A few hours later, Courtney looked and felt like a brand new person, bouncing from the seat excitedly. That is, until it was time to pay. She’d looked up the prices beforehand, of course. But the cost of an “owner cut” wasn’t listed on the website. She figured it would be a little more than their listed prices, so when the receptionist handed her the bill, she nearly shat out a brick.

Eight hundred and fifty dollars.

Courtney was already planning to split the bill on two cards, but this was insane. Her heart began to pound. What was she supposed to do? It’s not like she could say “oh, forget it”--she already had the whole damn service. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and asked the receptionist in a quiet voice, “Um...can I spread it out on 3 different credit cards?”

The girl rolled her eyes disdainfully, holding out her hand to accept the cards.

“You know,” she said, swiping Courtney’s cards through the reader. “There’s a Supercuts three blocks down. Maybe you should try them next time.”

Less than a minute ago, Courtney had felt like a million bucks, and now she felt like gum being scraped off the bottom of a shoe.

“Are you gonna add a tip?”

A tip? On top of that price? Oh well...she was gonna be paying off this trip to the salon for months anyway, might as well go all in. She took a deep breath, holding her head high.

“Yeah, add another $150 to that purple card,” she said, trying her best to keep her face impassive, put on a haughty air so that the receptionist wouldn’t see how much she was shaking inside. “And thanks for the advice.”

***

Bianca entered the book shop, large sunglasses obscuring most of her face, hair under a silk scarf, trying to be as incognito as possible. She beelined straight for her favorite section, avoiding the few other customers.

Most of the time, Bianca didn’t mind the fame or attention from the paparazzi. After all, it was a sign of her success, and she had nothing to hide--she never left the house with a hair out of place, and she could hold her liquor like a champ. Some days, though, like this one?

All she wanted was to enjoy a lazy Saturday. Pick up some books, treat herself to a nice, simple lunch at the café next door, just be a human instead of a minor celebrity.

She was paging through a Natalie Woods biography when someone interrupted, asking softly, “Bianca?”

Shit. Spotted. She turned around with a sigh, but when she saw the person who’d spoken, her aggravation was instantly replaced with a smile, dimples deep in her cheeks.

“Courtney! Hi!”

She looked like absolute perfection, in a fresh blow-out, hair falling in sexy, beachy waves over her shoulders. Her soft, fuzzy green sweater brought out her beautiful eyes. Bianca found herself amazed at how she managed to look better and better every time they saw each other.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I know you were probably-”

“No, I’m glad you did.” Bianca offered another smile. “So um, what brings you here? Do you live in this neighborhood?”

“No, I live in the Bronx. But was just over at Jujubee’s getting my hair done-”

“Ahh...well she did a stellar job. She’s a true artist.”

“You think?” Courtney fingered a lock of blonde hair.

“I’d give her more credit, but...she had a pretty good canvas to work on, so…”

Courtney smiled, biting her lip, then asked, “Do you think Miss Fame will approve?”

“Definitely not.”

Courtney’s face fell, for just a moment, brow creasing with worry, until Bianca reached out to touch her arm.

“Fame likes to be the hottest blonde in the room,” Bianca clarified, adding, “So yeah. She’ll hate it.”

They exchanged a small, conspiratorial smile before a pink tinge began to creep into Courtney’s cheeks and she looked away.

“What’ve you got there?” Bianca asked, gesturing to a stack of paperbacks in Courtney’s hands.

“Oh, I’m just...I’m just browsing, really. Killing time for a few hours before I have to go to a class in midtown. But who wants to hang out in midtown?”

Bianca laughed. “And? What kind of books do you like to browse?”

“Um…” Courtney looked a little embarrassed before admitting, “I’m trying to make my way through Oprah’s book club.”

“A worthy intellectual goal,” Bianca chuckled.

“Yeah, well. I’m on a spending embargo after the salon, so I’m probably just gonna get them from the library instead.”

Bianca held out her basket. “Throw ‘em in.”

“No, no, really, that wasn’t, I mean you don’t have to-”

“Throw them in,” Bianca repeated. “You’ve been putting up with my sister’s shenanigans for years, you deserve a couple of paperbacks. I insist.”

“Thanks.” Courtney carefully placed the books into Bianca’s basket.

“You’re welcome,” Bianca winked, strolling towards the register and placing her basket on the counter.

“You know, Adore puts up with my shenanigans too,” Courtney said. “It’s a very symbiotic relationship.”

Bianca smiled to herself, thinking about how sweet it was that she felt the need to defend Adore from the mildest shade. She handed her card to the clerk and turned back to Courtney.

“I’m sure it is. So uh, listen...I was about to head next door for lunch-”

“Oh, sorry to have kept you-”

“No, um…” Bianca chuckled, feeling awkward as fuck. “No, that’s not what I meant. It’s, um, a cute place. You know, if you’re into the whole healthy, organic, locally-sourced seasonal thing...which I take it you are.”

She gestured to the reusable canvas bag in Courtney’s hands, which she’d pulled from her purse to use rather than the bookstore’s plastic bags.

Realization began to dawn in Courtney’s eyes, a smile tugging at her lips as she said, “Guilty.”

“So, um, since you’re trying to kill time...maybe you want to join me?” Bianca signed the receipt and handed over the books, placing her own into her large shoulder bag, knowing that she’d probably not have refused the plastic bag if she were here on her own. Well, whatever--it was still a win for Mother Nature, right?

“Yeah!” Courtney exclaimed, then seemed to catch herself, adding, “I mean, if that’s what you want...”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

“A straight shooter, eh?”

“So to speak,” Bianca smirked, and Courtney giggled.

“What a true role model,” she professed with a flutter of lashes.

“Always,” Bianca laughed, guiding her next door with a hand on her lower back.

***

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #adore x pearl #vitan #bitney #trixie mattel #violet chachki #blu hydrangea #pearl liaison #adore delano #miss abby omg #raja gemini #miss fame #aiden zhane #jujubee #bianca del rio #courtney act #lesbian au #fashion au #m/f au

[madamemedic]

The Handmade Gift

Gio is a very fashionable person, in fact you would dare say he was most fashionable person you have met. All the suits he wore were designer and custom made for him. Undoubtedly very expensive too. You see his sense of fashion doesn’t really just stop at him, it extends to you too. Everything you now owned clothing wise was high end brand and expensive, not that he told you the price of it. You could just tell.

You had just received another dress from Gio, it was a knee length, deep purple pouf dress with a red sash as a belt. It was simple but it looked gorgeous. You thanked him and kissed him. Just as you were about to offer if he would like to see what it would look like on when his phone went off. This was normal, as Gio is normally is very busy man. However, the good mood was soured immediately as by he answer and his face twisting into a dark expression. You could tell this was serious and waited for the call to end. As to be expected he hung up looking as if he wanted to kill somebody, where his hair was normally green was now a throbbing red colour. He sighed with his eyes closed then a mumble of Italian was heard as he rubbed his eyes. Looks like he had to leave but before going he kissed you goodbye and maybe he would get to see in the dress soon. Then promptly leaving you in his home office.

Leaving you up to your own devices. You felt bad, whatever it was got Gio really steamed and you hoped to help him. Well help in broad sense of the term since you probably couldn’t help with what was most likely Don related problems. Still, you wanted to try. Maybe a gift would help cheer Gio up. Here is the problem… what do you give to a man who has everything? A car? No, he has lots in his drive way. Buy him a suit? No, he had lots and the kind HE liked was expensive. Wait. A suit, no just any. No, this suit would be different. You were going to make it by hand and the give it to him. How hard could it be.

The next day rolled around and you set work drawing and sketching out the suit that you were going to make for your darling Gio. Was it going to be striped? Plain? Or maybe embroidery? The longer the time went the longer you thought about it. The more it seemed like the task was harder than you thought.

Ding! As if a light bulb went off in your head. Why didn’t you think of it. Gio’s wardrobe! Why didn’t you just go in and see what he already had?

Leaving your room, you made your way to Gio’s room. You could tell who’s room from who’s, due to the doors that each Don had. Gio’s had carved in beautiful art, Zhuk’s was plain because in his words “it’s only a door, what matter is what is inside”, Cia has what look like symbols, Bee had words on his but you couldn’t read nor understand them and Bajo also has carvings but it was just a simple rose.

Knocking on Gio’s room, slowly opened the door to see him not there. Thank goodness or how where you going to explain that you where looking at his suits?

“Hey babes, mind if I look at your suits? Reason? Uhhh, they look good?” Yeah… no, hard pass on that.

Walking to his walk-in closet you had to turn on the light to see into the large but dark room. As far as the eye could see, most of his suits seemed to be pin striped. Well at least you knew the pattern but now was the materiel and measurements next. Slowly approaching one suit, your hand reaches out and pulls (well more like yanks, since you are very much smaller than he) it down. It is soft to the touch. Silk. Well know you knew the materiel. The was only one thing left measurements.

Good thing for you Gio tended not to keep suits for too long because “I change my mind, it’s ugly” then throw them away. Well he would throw them in a basket at the end of the closet next to the draws that held his gloves in.

“Let’s hope he’s planning on throwing away a full suit set soon” You prayed as you pulled to lid off to find indeed he had planned on throwing a suit away. It was pin striped but it had a stain that you were sure wasn’t wine or jam on it. Taking it out of the basket, you look decided this was the only way to get his measurements without asking.

Quickly you take the jacket, trousers and scamper away to your room. That was step two. Now to actually make the suit.

Luckily for you, you still had some materiel left from a previous cosplay and of course it was silk. Black and white striped to be precise. Of course you made a few cosplays but a whole ass suit. That would take your skills to the test.

The first thing you did was google patterns to make a suit from scratch. It didn’t look too bad but not all things that look easy are easy to do. Once you obtained the pattern, you had turned to the old suit and slowly started to take it apart at the seems to get its measurements. It was slow but worth it as you snipped at the cotton thread that held it together. It didn’t tear, so you could use the scraps as a base for the new suit.

“I hope this turns out OK”

Over the next month (almost two), you poured yourself into making the suit for Gio. It was WAY harder than you had expected it to be. One minute the sewing machine stoped working, so you had to hand stitch it. Then you’d constantly poke yourself with the needle which led to bleeding on the material; well the white bit. So you had to start again. Then order more of the silk as you only had enough to make the suit as long as there wasn’t many mistakes but unfortunately that was not the case. However, you still persevered. Day by day came and then went. It was getting there.

Of course the rest of the Dons grew suspicious of why their little angel was away in her room and not walking around or hanging around with them but of course with a bit of hushing and “it’s a secret” they gave up. Thank goodness to that too. You didn’t want any of the Dons slipping up and telling Gio by accident. Well you knew that the chance was small but it was still a chance that you couldn’t take.

Today was the day that the extra bits were to come in, such as cuff links and buttons. You knew that if the suit materiel was going to be high quality then the extras would be too. Well, they weren’t the traditional type either. The cuff links were in a shape of golden love hearts and the buttons had beetles carved in the small golden circles. Sure it made you more late but it would be worth it.

“Today is the last day and then I wait” You sigh as you glance over at the nearly finished suit. The trousers and top were finished. You added a few more details such as emerald green inlining as well and a red handkerchief In the breast pocket as well another in the pocket. It looked good, for your first time that is.

“Angel, package for you” Zhuk’s voice comes from the door of the mansion.

“Coming” You reply as you race down to get what was most likely the last pieces of the suit. Skidding down the hall you could see Zhuk holding your parcel but to your horror, he was also talking to Gio.

“Uhhh Gio, you didn’t tell me you were back” Gio then stopped talking to Zhuk and grinned as you made your way over to him.

“ Ah Principessa, there you are” Gio holds you close to him. “It’s been lonely with you with you la mia Principessa” Gio kisses the top of your head, you could hear Zhuk give a chuckle.

“I missed you too Gio” You pull away from him and turn to Zhuk, getting your package Zhuk hands it over but then starts to speak.

“Little one has been in her room the most of the time you’ve been gone, would even tell us why just kept on saying ‘hush’ and ‘it’s an secret’” You knew what was happening. Zhuk was trying to get you to tell him why you were in your room so much the last past weeks by using Gio as a pressure point.

“Away in your room? What? Why Principessa?” A confused Gio was now reaching out to place a hand on your arm. You could see concern on his face but on Zhuk’s was concern but a glimmer of mischief.

“Well… it’s a secret. Don’t worry, it’s a good one” You pull away but this doesn’t get rid of the concerned look on the dons faces.

“Does it got to do with your box?” Gio asks, his gaze on your parcel in your hands. Damn. Her recognised the box. Of course he would, that’s where he got his cuff links from.

“Maybe, maybe not. I said it’s a secret” Your reply was a bit snippy but you want to just leave and finish the damn suit so you could just give it to him.

“Well, I’d like to believe that you think I’m not stupid but I’d like to also believe that you are not stupid either to notice that is where I get my cuff links from” Drat. He knew. Think, think of and excuse, a reason.

“I… I… uh… this is embarrassing but I’d thought I’d buy the, for me and maybe get a few suits of my own” The lie came out and you hoped they believed it. Which it looked like they did.

“Oh, nice choice. Maybe you could show me them when you get the chance. I’m sure they look great” Gio winks at you. “Maybe I‘ll get you a nice suit to match the” Great, now is the time to leave before another Don joins in and makes it harder to leave.

“Well, as much as I like talking, I have to go back and finish my secret thing” You then sprint off back into the mansion, leaving behind two very confused Dons.

As you closed your door behind you, taking a deep breath you go and sit on the chair by your desk. Grabbing a knife near by you cut the sticker that held the box closed. Inside was a black velvet rectangle. The box looked amazing but you were more interested in the contents. Opening the box you were blown away by the quality of the product. The good glimmered in the light. They where beautiful.

“Now to finish this” You now had the buttons of the jacket and it was time to sew them in place. Over time you had got better at sewing. One by one, each button is sown on by hand with extra care. Then you add the cuff links to wear they would go.

It was finished. You were finished. You jump for happiness and dance for a while but stop when there is a knocking on your door.

“Principessa, can I come in?” Shit. It’s Gio.

“In a sec… I’m naked” Wait. Why did you say that? Never mind. You take the suit off the display model to place it in a gift box for clothes.

“Naked, well I definitely want to come in now” You could hear the humour in Gio’s voice as you place a ribbon on of the box. Now all you had to do was give it to him. Of course you didn’t want him to see it right away, so you placed it inside a draw and closed it.

“Ready” You call out, straightening your clothes you look at a slightly disappointed Gio.

“You are clothed, I thought you were naked. No matter, plenty of time for that now that I am back” Gio takes you hand as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Yeah, I guess I just said what was on the top of my head” You reply shyly. Now it’s not like Gio has net seen you naked plenty of times but you still felt shy about it.

“Don’t worry about it Principessa, I got you something” Gio pulls a box from back. It was thins and a square. Giving it a look over, your eyebrows raise.

“It’s not a pizza right?” At this Gio looked at you, his face splitting into a smile and then turned into laughter.

“No, no. It’s not pizza. Open it” He holds it out to you.

“Wait, I have something for you too” You go over to open the draw and open it to retrieve the box.

“Oh a gift for me? Oh you shouldn’t have Principessa” Turning around you both have boxes. Both are roughly the same shape but his has a red bow and yours green.

“Soooo… Who is going to open first… I mean, I don’t mind if you open mine first” Gio goes on, looking at his gift then yours.

“I guess since you came all this way to give it to me, I’ll open yours” You places you’re box on the table and take Gio’s. You pull the ribbon to open the box where inside is a white dress… wait. On top is also a veil dripping with pearls of all sizes. You start to pull out the tiara with crown first, putting it on your box and then the dress. It was 100% a wedding dress. Looking up from from the dress to see Gio on one knee, his face slightly pink due. You have now spotted something else at the bottom. A ring.

“Gio…” You are stunned. You’d never thought that Gio would marry you, well you’d like it but never wanted to force him to do so.

“Principessa, (Y/N). Being away from you for almost two months made me realise that… I can’t stand not being not with you, you are kind, smart, beautiful and I can’t see my life without you” Gio picks up the ring from the box. “You make me a better man, well as better as you can get” You let a small chuckle. Tears streaming down your face as he continues. “What I’m asking is… Will you make me the happiest man demon whatever?” Gio holds his breath as he waits for answer.

“Yes, Yes I will absolutely marry you” You launch yourself into Gio, almost making him fall back. The two of you laugh and cry a bit. Gio mainly from the release of anxiety. Kissing all over your face, Gio then places the ring on your finger then kisses then back of your hand.

“So is this what the recent was meant to be for” You couldn’t help but laugh, Gio does too.

“Yes. The trip was for your dress, they messed it up and I had to go back” He laughs again but then notices your quietness. He is nervous again.

“Well damn… my present is going to be shit compared to yours” Oh… that’s why. Gio cups your face in his large hairy hands.

“Principessa, you could give me a random leg you sawed off random person and I’d still love it, you know why right?” He looks into your eyes, you could feel yourself starting to calm down. Getting and sitting back on the chairs, you pick up the last gift so you could hand it to Gio.

“My gift probably isn’t as good as yours is” You ramble off as Gio opens the box. He is silent as he takes out the suit jacket. Sure it wasn’t any wear near his usual standards but you made it. That made it worth more than any suit he’s ever owned. “G? Gio? Scarafaggio?” You gasped as he had once again began to cry, just as you were about to speak he interrupted you.

“It’s perfect” He then quickly takes the trousers out and starts to inspect the new suit in his hands. It was soft, most likely Silk he notes to himself. His eyes go over the beetle buttons and the love heart cuff links. Gio smiles and he then looks at you again. “ You made this? How?” Gio then notifies himself of the green of inside of the jacket. It really was beautiful and was made of love.

“I did, it took me a while, I know it’s not your normal suit but I wanted to try and well” You gesture to it.

“No, it’s perfect, in fact. The fact that you took your time to make this for me and it’s shows. It’s fine besides if you want to get better I can help you, maybe I’ll make you a suit instead” Gio looks at his own suit, the back at his new one.

“Wear it” You could tell he was going to ask anyway.You didn’t need to tell him twice. Quickly Gio takes off his suit trousers and jacket. You blush, not expecting him to do it right away. Then it became another reason to do so. It was a tighter fit than normal but it still felt comfortable. Gio throws the suit in a near by washing hamper and does a twirl. It look good but definitely not what he was usually seen with.

“Looking good babes” You wolf whistle at Gio and he winks in return. The he grins and rushes out the room leaving you stunned. Where did he go off to? Doesn’t matter, you have a wedding to one of the men in your life to day dream about.

“Boys, look who just been treated nicely” Gio calls out in the lobby, soon each Don slowly makes their way to the lobby as well.

“Well that’s different” Bajo gets closer to look at Gio’s new suit.

“Doesn’t look like your normal suit… what make this one so different?” Cia eyeballs Gio carefully as Gio shows off his suit.

“Yes, why why this suit be so different, almost as if somebody very, very close has spent all her time on it despite not knowing how to and did it anyway just to make me happy” Gio knew that they would all know who made this suit.

“No way” Zhuk starts to examine it closer, yet it wasn’t the best but it was made with time and care. The hand stitching was prescient as ever.

“Yep, nostro caro made this. Just. For. Me”Gio could feel the tingle of jealousy from the rest of the Dons.

“Well I’m going to ask for something to be made then” Bee declares as he rushes past the group to your room.

“Oh no you don’t, I will” Zhuk followed then is also followed by Cia and Bajo. Gio watches and chuckles, looks like you were going to do a lot more clothes.

[Author’s Note: Not Beta read and this is most likely the last time I write for the Dons. Hope you enjoyed and stay safe.

Dons belong to @beetlebitchywitch and friends

P.S, Sorry for ten formation of this fanfic, when it’s is converted to to Tumble, it fucked it up.]

#@beetlebitchywitch #no beta read #gio x reader #scarafaggio x reader #beetlejuice x reader

[heartshyuck]

Pairing: Jisung x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst,slow burn, strangers to lovers au, first love, early 1900s au.

Synopsis: Lavenders symbolise purity, silence, devotion, serenity and grace. All endearing characteristics of the gorgeous boy, you met in the fields of purple.

Placed in the late 1930s , just before World War two starts, you flees from your family who are forcing you into a marriage. you lie low in a small village where you meets Jisung in a field of lavenders.

Word count: 2.3k (preview), projected to be around 16k?? (5th of February)

Warnings: sexism and very backwards ways of thinking, forced marriages (for preview)

a/n: let me know if you wanna be on the taglist, also please listen to the merry go round of life whilst reading this (from howl's moving castle). The full fic is hopefully to be released on the 4th of February

Your legs seem to be moving on their own, feet hitting the ground at a steady and fast pace, you don’t look back and can’t seem to see what lies ahead but still you run until your lungs burn, run until the bitter metallic taste is at the back of your throat where bile threatens to rise. You run until finally your legs collapse, knees hitting the ground, grazing them and it’s the slight sting of the sediment seeping into the cuts that stop you from passing out. You’re not sure how far you’ve ran or how long you’ve been running, you don’t know where you're running to but you have to escape. Escape the life they’ve laid out for you, the one they’ve planned without your input, you can’t live a life where everything is set out, where everything is expected and perfect. A life where you’d get married at 18 to a stranger who was of a worthy social class, attend formal lunches with the wives of your husband’s work colleagues and host dinner parties and occasionally large balls in a manor that always felt empty no matter how many paintings you bought to hang on the never ending amount of walls, no matter how many more bookshelves you tried to fit into one room, a place that you’ll always hate. Then to have children by 20, as many boys as possible of course to then not have any say in their upbringing and watch nurses tend to them, your husband educate them and then watch them get married, meet your grandchildren and when you’ve reached a respectable age, death will meet you in your sleep and you’ll be mourned and then forgotten. A life filled with regret, a constant numbness, no fulfillment and no meaning. 

You saw your mum live that life, a smile that never quite reached her eyes, always plastered on at any given moment as she walked around the large hall with a glass of nothing but champagne in hand greeting the hundreds of guests that you were never able to comprehend how she managed to remember them all. She never spoke unless spoken to, never put in any input and always obeyed your father even when you could see the frustration bubble up inside her as her eyes glinted and her jaws tightened with the urge to say something. She would buy gifts upon gifts and shower you in expensive luxuries, spoil you in riches as a form of love and yet it always held another meaning behind it. There was a slight sadness in her eyes as she passed a gift every birthday,christmas and any other reason she found, almost as if she was saying sorry for the life you were going to live and how she’d use these moments as blackmail for when that time came. You’d overhear her quiet sobs when you would sneak around the house late at night, read letters she received from someone you didn’t know and how they wished for her life to get better and for her to find happiness in a world where happiness didn’t exist. You saw your mother cry when your father died, eyes bloodshot red in fear rather than grief. Her life was now uncertain and that's when you decided that you couldn't live an empty life, regretting choices and wishing for death to come to you first.

Your father had always made sure that you would receive a proper education, one where you'd read hours upon hours of the finest English literature, works of science and learned of the past and present politics. He always said "a lady should know about the world around her but should never venture off on her own" you hated that phrase but it was better than what you overheard your friend's father saying to her when she asked for him to explain the concept of communism, "a women does not need to busy herself with politics, for your brain could not even begin to comprehend it" he announced with his nose high up in the air as if he had just said the most inquisitive statement known to man. It baffled you how one could even think that, let alone truly believe it enough to announce it so stupidly in the open, it was obvious that women were capable of understanding concepts like politics,maths and science for you were living proof. You did better than your brother at grasping algebra, better at them with understanding Versalius's "De humani corporis fabrica" and it didn't take your friend long to understand Karl Marx's theory on communism once you explained it to her. It angered you that this was dismissed especially when your brother soon went off to universities for they had outgrown your father's enormous library and knowledge, there was no more he could teach them but there was still much to learn and you yearned to do the same but as you approached a suitable age for marriage, your everyday classes on Shakespearean English, Tudor monarchy, Greek mythology and Italian art had now been replaced with sewing, crochet, dining etiquette and the differences between napkins, white laced ones for formal lunches,gold embroidery for important dinners and regular silk for everyday use, you'd recite to your mother and the many maids who were on standby.

You've left that world now, left the bustling streets of industrialised London where a black smog always hung around the air and the smell of burnt rubber that stung your nose, you always hated both. Though you grew up in a large estate where there seemed to be a never ending amount of land on the outskirts of London, you never were allowed out to explore. Only allowed out with your mother to pick out fabrics in the markets, surrounded by military men that guarded the general's wife and daughter but now you were alone, no guards, no mother and no black smog to block your view of what lies ahead, only the sun and the ocean sky, clear of clouds as you breathe in fresh air that cleanses your lungs from the toxins that hang in the city air, surrounded by vibrant lavenders that arrive with a strong, sweet smell of pollen which you welcome to replace the bitter rubber your sense of smell only seems to know. You close your eyes and bask in the warmth of late August , the sun gleaming down on you, rays striking against your skin with the wind between the strands of your hair, blowing the lavenders and they slightly tickle your arms. You’re not sure how long you were in your euphoric trance but you weren't ready to leave yet when the dark shadow was casted over you. 

Your eyes lazily open and beauty lies ahead, the sun gleaming behind him, lights him on flames and he burns with a presence so strong you can see it as his aura swirls around you, engulfing you. His features,strong and yet his eyes are soft and even as he's turned away from the sun they sparkle infinitely as they hold the brightest stars, his stare pierces through you and it makes your gut clench as you feel small under his gaze but you don't turn away, daring him to continue staring down on you, well that's what you tell yourself as you can't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes. His face wears a worried expression, his hand out forwards for you to take and place in his and it takes you a while to realise he's trying to help you up, even longer to comprehend the words that leave his mouth, as you just watch his cherry red lips move. You're dazed and for the first time you're not thinking straight, your legs won't move to carry you back up onto your feet but your hand instinctively moves towards him and your own mouth gapes open as it does, and again he repeats himself emphasising the words as his eyes widen further “are you okay?” you stare blankly at him, no response until you feel the burning sensation of his hand in yours. A heat that sends shocks through every nerve, it runs through your bloodstream lighting you on fire and as if you were burnt you pull back, shaking off the dizzy spell you rise to your feet, your body finally responding to your screaming brain. A sense of relief washes over you as the fear of losing your mind slowly seeps out as the haze in your mind clears, until your eyes meet his again. “Really y/n, not for a boy” you cry out in your head as your mind seems to be lost in awe looking at him.

You shuffle uncomfortably and it’s just now you realise how much of a mess you look as the embodiment of beauty’s eyes fall down. Your expensive dress torn up, what was once a full sangria and silver ball gown was now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing as it stopped just above your knees, an uneven hem due to the rough ripping which took all of your strength, the white net underneath was visibly stained a brownish yellow, the cuts on your knee not being the only thing the dirt seeped into  but his eyes don’t even seem to stop there, they didn't even seem to notice, only meeting a piece of paper that lied on the floor. He reaches down for it, his eyebrows perk up slightly before handing it back to you.“You dropped this” he avoids eye contact, continuing to stare down, his hand abruptly extends out in front of him and he clears his throat, adding to the excruciating awkwardness between you and you wince at the sudden sound. “Oh thank you..” you can hear your voice waver and crack and for the first time in your life, your voice isn’t confident, seems like a day full of firsts, your mother would’ve been proud if she saw you acting like this, like a lady she would have put it. Quite, reserved but really it was just a suffocating stiffness that lingered in the air. 

“Jisung” he completes your sentence, a small, shy smile appears on his face as his eyes look at everything but you, the letter still in his grasp he shakes his hand at you slightly urging you to take it. Your fingers brush past his ever so slightly as you take the letter back into your possession, a spark is sent through you and your fingers twitch, as if wanting more but you stop them from moving any further, your eyes slightly widen as you catch yourself falling so easily and if Jisung catches the weird expressions on your face, he chooses to ignore them not saying anything. “You are not from around here, are you?” His voice is light and airy as he speaks softly, as if you were made of glass and any harsh tone could break you, you can’t tell if it’s because of the immense awkwardness or because of the pity he must feel seeing you in such a state. You hope it’s the former and decide that’s what it is, when he starts playing with the edges of his white shirt.

“No I live in London” the words die as soon as they leave your mouth, you used to live in London, you don’t anymore. This only adds to Jisung’s awkwardness and it reminds you no matter how beautiful he is, he’s only just a boy who’s probably around your age. So you smile at him, letting out a small breathy laugh in hopes of lightening the mood, it works as he visibly unstiffens. “Used to” Jisung doesn’t press on the matter any further, doesn’t ask anymore questions, just nods. The unsettling atmosphere sets in once again and your incapability of standing in silence for more than a second, you clear your throat "do you know where this address is?" your tone light and airy, you sound almost clueless and it’s now you realise the true meaning behind every etiquette class, the role of the women is the domestic war, the war on power. For one to rise they must make powerful allies and that’s what this voice is for, to obtain the power of a man and trick them into helping you; so you're glad when Jisung takes the letter back into his grasp and examines the writing at the front, it’s worked. 

“I’ll show you the way” and you nod with a slight smile as a thank you, Jisung leads the way and you follow soon behind, with his face no longer in my sight you can finally observe the rest of him. Judging by his height and build, seems like he comes from a well off family. Though there wasn’t a day you felt hungry, you weren’t blind to the outside world no matter how hard your parents tried to shelter you from it. The world is living off rations but the wealthy still have access to more, Jisung must have some sought of status or most likely works for a household with high status considering it seemed like he was running errands, why else would he be in a field full of lavenders and it’s only reinforced by the fine silk that flows as wind rushes past you. Somewhat similar to the material that makes up your gown, or what’s left of it, it’s an expensive material imported from colonies in the empire. He walks with no flaw and so you guess he didn’t serve in the war, meaning he has to be around your age; this new life is exciting and scary, you’re not sure what you want yet but you certainly wouldn’t mind if the boy in the lavender field stuck around for a while. 

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