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gretahayes · 1 year

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Favourite tim drake recs? :0

Assuming you mean fanfic recs, I've got probably the most for him and this is long, so it's going under the cut;

This is genuinely one of my favorites, it's set post-Red Robin, and deals with Tim's vigilante stalking habits, his family finding out, Cass realizing there's no photos of Tim, them setting out to take/find some of him (a much harder feat than you'd think) and finally, Tim seeing the photos. It's amazing and sweet, and I can't recommend it enough. (I especially like the Bruce & Tim and Tim & Damian in this)

This is by the same author, also set post-Red Robin. This is Damian and Tim focused, Damian POV, in which Damian sees Bruce's contingency plans for him and the rest of the family, and with nobody else to turn to, runs for Tim. Canon divergent in the way Bruce doesn't have a contingency for his children, neither does Tim for his team, or them for him, but it kinda makes sense in this setting. Their interactions are amazing here, and seems so real.

In this, Tim gets a tonsillectomy. An elaboration in the form of a long fic. A must-read, I feel. It's funny and has so many feels and such good characterization.

!!! Can't believe I almost forgot about this one! Tim is Bruce's assistant, not son, and never became a vigilante. He's incredibly overworked, but no less dedicated to the Waynes. It's heartwrenching and sweet and funny and—words can't do it justice. It's a must read. The Al Ghuls make a cameo but Tim knows how to deal with them. Tim's deeply sad but next to nobody knows and those that do just accept it (including him). Kon is the MVP. Cass. Damian and Tim have an odd bond built of mutual respect and disdain for everyone around them. Luthor tries to recruit Tim every year and fails.

This is funny and amazing—Tim lands in a universe where he's technically considered a drug addict, since coffee is a drug and in the regular universe everyone drinks it.

The YJ fic Ever. I've recced this at least three times, and I will continue to. It's amazing characterization all around—both YJ and batfam—and genuinely is so fun. I love everyone in this. When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

This is Tim & Damian—Tim gets his overprotective big brother moment :) love love LOVE the way everyone is written here.

This is short and hilarious—Tim has amnesia after a head wound (can only remember back to his YJ days) and tries to bullshit his way out of anyone noticing. He might have succeeded if not for Cass.

This is a time loop fic, switching POVs. Tim's stuck in a time loop in which Jason always dies. The loop before the one this was set in, he accidentally kills Damian out of stress and too-fast reflexes. He breaks down when he sees Damian again, the whole thing unravels, and they resolve to help him out of it.

THIS SERIES MAKES ME FERAL. Jack, Tim and sometimes Dana, set when Jack made Tim quit from Robin. Horror-type elements and beautifully poetic, but centered around Jack's POV of the son he realizes he doesn't know, and him realizing he may be a shit dad. Dana's the best stepmom ever, and Tim's far nicer to her than he is Jack. This is the first work, in which Jack tries and fails to understand this Tim, and realizes that this Tim is Robin, not Tim. This is the second (and last) work in the series, in which Tim hasn't fully quit the lifestyle even though he's not going out as Robin, but Jack has no proof he hasn't. Just a hunch and a few odd occurrences that us, the readers, who are familiar with Tim's hero life will find obvious, but Jack does not. Dana makes Tim happier, more Tim than Tim-Robin, than Jack does, and Jack hates it. Near the end, he starts calling Tim Robin, not Tim. I LOVE it. Even if you hate Jack (like I do) you need to read this, for the Tim characterization if nothing else. Outsider POV, except he shouldn't be an outsider. But he is.

This is so fucking funny. Tim gets a matching tattoo with Kon, and hides it from Bruce. When Bruce—and the rest of his family—find out, all goes to hell.

Remember when I said the Jack and Tim series was only slightly horror? This is horror. Bruce's got a habit of picking up monsters, and this one is about Tim. If you're sensitive to horror, please read the tags and maybe avoid it, because this is delightful but not for everyone.

In this, Tim becomes an unintentional sugar daddy to the caped community. It's a bit iffy in some places, but hilarious.

This is Dick and Tim (surprised it took me this long to rec one with them as the main focus tbh) and it's Dick checking up on his little brother. Pure fluff, and genuinely amazing.

This is Tim & Bruce but also Tim & Tam in some places. Bruce forgets Tim is the majority shareholder for WE and is thus invited to shareholder meetings, Tim finds this very amusing and is generally a menace. You can FEEL the teenager in this Tim. Amazing.

Tim's de-aged to a kid in this, and re-meets his family. Fluff and feels ensue.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce isn't prepared for his newest Robin's neuroses.

This has Tim & Cassie meeting at an archaeologist event as kids and having to fight a monster thing :) it's cute

GODDD this fic? This fic ruined me. Beautiful Tim characterization, a gorgeous look at Bruce and how much he fucks up despite caring, and Dick being a stressed but amazing big brother with gorgeous writing. I love their brotherly affections here, and Tim's weird neuroses being shown here. Tim & Bruce is how it starts, and it's very much centered around their relationship, but it tapers off into Dick & Tim, which I'm not complaining about. Kon (and Bart!) makes a cameo and is an amazing friend. Can't rec this enough. If you read none of the other fics, please read this one.

This is Dick and Tim again. Dick forces Tim to go undercover with him to an Elvis convention in a thinly veiled attempt to spend time with the brother who he doesn't think knows how much he loves him. It's set in Tim's POV, though, so until Dick says this, Tim doesn't know. Hilarious and short.

This is Dick and Tim (who's surprised? Nobody) where Dick goes to Robin!Tim's science fair because Tim mentioned it and well, nobody else was going. Short and sweet.

This deals with the batfam finding out about the shitshow that was Tim's BruceQuest. If you're a stickler for canon I'd recommend you skip this one, but if not, it's a great read.

This is Dick and Tim again, and it's amazing. Tim's alone on Christmas Eve. Dick finds out, and does something about it. It's Robin!Tim, so this is Dick, Babs and Tim. This author is amazing at writing their interactions, plus inside Dick's head is a tricky place to write and they nail it perfectly. Mostly Dick & Tim, but since he invites Tim to Babs' holiday party, Babs makes a good number of cameos.

This is Tim talking a jumper off the ledge while Damian watches. Then they talk about it. Tim from Damian's POV is always interesting, but this especially is amazing.

This is a core four fic, Tim's POV! Pure humor. Tim finds a dildo in the dishwasher and he drags them for a team meeting so he can sus out whose it is.

I've recced this before, I think, but I'll do it again. Red Robin canon divergence fic in which Bruce is actually dead, and Tim calls Dick to tell him he thinks he may have been wrong. Dick's POV, short, but the emotion in this is outstanding.

In this fic, Damian has trouble with the transition from Dick's Batman to Bruce's Batman. Tim, who's also had both, is surprisingly helpful. This has so many Tim and Damian feels that I'm literally bursting at the seams. Melancholy, camaraderie, and all the good stuff. Damian's POV, and since he sucks at so much as guessing at what's going on in Tim's head, it's all the more great.

This is Dick and Tim, a soft Christmastime fic.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce and Tim have a sort-of game that started when Tim was thirteen. Initially, it was Tim stealing sips (or occasionally whole mugs) of Bruce’s coffee, back when he was too young for Alfred to allow him to drink it. Now, though, Bruce is getting his own back, and steals Tim’s coffee when he can. Sweet and fluffy.

Here, Tim gets a headwound and only remembers back to his Robin days, and forgets to be awkward around Dick and Damian. Tugs at the heartstrings. Dick's reminded of how much he misses this Tim.

This is really funny. Remember that time during the YJ days where the adult heroes were de-aged and the kid ones grew to be adults? Tim didn't reach six foot. In this, he's mocked ruthlessly for it.

Here, Tim goes to high school again after dropping out :) it's core four and hilarious

In this, Tim accidentally kills his dad in self defense—or rather, thinks he does, Jack's still alive but he doesn't know that until Dick shows up—and scrambles to call Dick. He calls Jason instead. Dick eventually gets called and shows up, and the brotherly feels in this are amazing. Tim's in shock for a good portion of it, and it's his POV, so you've got to piece some stuff together. Bad dad Jack, as in worse than canon bad dad Jack. Tugs on the heartstrings, and have I said I love Dick in this? Because I do. Bruce shows up near the end, and to everyone's surprise, doesn't absolutely fuck things up and/or fail as a parent.

Here, Tim is sick and alone. Dick, after not hearing from Tim at all for three days, goes to his apartment, finds him sick, and takes care of him. Eventually he gets dragged to the Manor for some actual r&r. It's sweet, and this writer has an amazing way with words and an intriguing flow.

In this, Bruce knows Tim. They have a routine, have habits, they know each other. This is so so touching, and I love it so much.

Here, Tim and Steph give Bruce a headache. It's amazing.

I..can't even begin to describe this. Bruce is fresh from the timeline, and this is a sort of introspection/character study type thing about him and Tim and how Tim's changed. Mostly, though? Mostly, Bruce just gives his son a hug.

Here, Kon is Tim's work husband. Bruce suffers. Pure fluff and humor, with a touch of feels.

Here, Bruce takes Tim to get his wisdom teeth out. They're both worried, but together, they're alright. Tim cries while doped up on the drugs. He cries a lot.

Here, 90's!Tim Drake wakes up in his Red Robin body. Exhausted from a YJ mission, he chooses to focus on getting through a normal day so as not to disrupt things for his future self. But, y'know, his way. Hilarious and so in-character, if exaggerated for comedy.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian gets hit with truth serum on patrol, and a pissed off Tim has to come and get him. Damian resolves to not tell Tim he's been hit with truth serum. They get closer as a result. Love their dynamic in this.

This is core four again, but just general teenager superhero chaos. Can't rec it enough

Here, Tim tries to build a LEGO Gotham, but his family just can't leave it—or him—alone. He calls a family meeting to tell them to knock it off, and they do not. Fluff and humor.

Here, Tim has appendicitis and gets his appendix removed. The best mix of fluff, feels, and good old complicated family dynamics ever

In this, Bruce tries to navigate giving affection to his odd son, Tim. Touching and funny.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian crashes on Tim's bed in the Watchtower when injured, Tim finds him. They talk, and maybe bond a bit, even though they'd never admit it.

Here, Bruce hugs Tim. Really nothing else to it.

Another fic where Tim wakes up with amnesia and pretends to know his family so he's not rude. He's found out when he correctly deduces Bruce is his dad, but makes the mistake of calling Bruce dad.

This is Dick and Tim again. Tim gets de-aged into a six-month-old, and Dick takes care of him. Soft and so so sweet.

In this, Tim's trying to work in his apartment when his siblings keep showing up to distract him and get him to take a break. It's sweet of them, if very annoying.

This is Bruce and Tim. Tim's injured and lying in bed, Bruce gets him takeout. Feels fuzzy and just...good. You've got to read it to know what I'm talking about, no summary does it justice.

Here, Damian tries to make amends with Tim. He does it very oddly though, so Tim thinks he has a crush on him, and avoids him all the more for it because ew-gross-ew-ew.

In this, Tim gets his teeth knocked out and grabs Dick as a mediator so he tells Bruce. Short and funny-sweet. You can tell this is in Tim's Robin run, due to all the little hints dropped.

This is Tim and Kon, funny and nonsensical. Tim calls Kon in the early hours of the morning, drunk. Kon thinks he deserves sainthood for this.

In this, Tim has road rage and most of his family find that out in the most hilarious way possible.

Bruce and Tim—a test sort of fic? Interesting, definitely.

This is timkon, Tim has memory loss and is amazed by Kon all over again.

Core four go to a gala :)

This is Dick and Tim, Tim breaks into Dick's house, accidentally interrupts his nap, tries to leave out of guilt, and gets wrangled into hugs. So so soft and so so sweet.

Another de-aged Tim fic, but this time with six year old Tim and Bruce taking care of him. This is so melancholy and...ugh. I love them.

Here, Tim and Dick are thrown into an alternate universe and have to try and get back with no other support system and no way out. They meet this world's version of Bruce and Alfred, though.

CEO Tim, and hates it. He makes that Luthor's problem.

Timkon, in which Tim plans all his dates VIA corkboard and Kon is so attracted to that.

CEO Tim (again), except he's still a teenager and people end up thinking he's a communist. This is short and hilarious all the way through. Also, Bruce is there.

This is The kid!Tim fic ever. Tim, having found a weird hole after a storm, decides to go exploring ignoring the fact that This Is Gotham and They Probably Have Cursed Stuff Down There.Luckily, it was just a cave system that spans the entire Gotham underground. Unluckily, Tim is a very curious child. Tim's a sorta eldritch being at the end?? Amazing, 100 would recommend.

In this, Tim finds out he isn't his parents' biological son. This changes everything. This changes nothing. Can't say anything else without spoiling, but I can't rec it enough.

In this fic, Bruce is back in time in Drake Manor, and meets baby Tim. It's like you're frozen in time, and all that matters is Bruce and his infant not-yet-son.

Here, Kon and Tim date. Tim's a cryptid stalker that refuses to be photographed, Dick is a big brother that loves his little brother, and it's cute.

Sorry it took me so long to compile this list anon, happy reading!

#asks #anon #tim drake #fic rec #god this is. a lot #took me a while to compile

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cedarxwing · 3 months

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Hannibal Season 4 Plot Ideas

The main concepts that keep coming up in interviews of Bryan Fuller and some of the cast are:

"Will Graham's broken mind" and "memory palace bullshit"

"Inception meets Angel Heart"

an interesting return to season one dynamics, but flipped

deeper exploration of Will and Hannibal's relationship than in previous seasons

stuff from Hannibal the novel that no other adaptation has done yet.

we're in Cuba

So based on that, here are some possible story beats for S4 (picking up right after the Fall as if the show was never cancelled):

We start out in Cuba. The most obvious reason? To hunt down one of their victims that have fled the country, as Hannibal does at the end of Silence of the Lambs. Based on interviews, it's clear that Chilton would remain in the US to head the BSHCI again (how is he alive, let alone working?), so it's more likely that they're hunting Bedelia for the post credits leg scene.

Will Graham's Broken Mind

During the Fall, Will suffers a mental schism that splits his personality, similar to the detective in Angel Heart. I don't think he literally has a split personality disorder, but he compartmentalizes his killer/Hannibal self from his moral self. When he participates in murders, he's not quite himself, viewing it through a dream lens (we saw a little of this when he was killing the Dragon). It's possible that he takes on personality traits from killers in season one, or even has to fight against a Red Dragon personality ("You can always toss the Dragon to someone else." "Will Graham interests me.")

I think we'll see a return of the teacup metaphor relating to Will's mental schism, since their reunion represents the "teacup coming together again" the way Hannibal wanted it to in Digestivo. "Not even in your mind?" Well, the teacup HAS come back together in Will's mind, because there's no other way for him to accept his feelings for Hannibal. He mentally regresses back to season one/two and we see the return of the Abigail imago we last saw in Primavera, as well as Beverly and Hobbs and Gideon and all our other friends. Maybe Will thinks they're all alive again! Or maybe he thinks he's dead! This would be really poetic from Hannibal's perspective, since his arc in the novel is about dropping a teacup and "being satisfied when it does not gather itself together." So it would be perfect for the cup to gather itself in Will's head and for Hannibal to realize that's not at all what he wants.

Will hallucinating Abigail would be a fun way to get the "murder family" dynamic. "It's hard to grasp what would've happened, could've happened. In some other world… did happen." Well, we can see that world in Will's broken mind!

I don't have a clear guess of what a "return to season one but flipped" might mean. There are lots of possibilities...

1. Could refer to Will's encephalitis days when he wasn't sure if he was committing the murders or not, except this time he's committing them. Maybe he has a pendulum wipe moment and thinks he's reconstructing a murder instead of committing it (like a reverse of the Georgia Madchen murder in Buffet Froid). Going extreme in this direction, maybe he analyzes his own crime scenes with Hannibal in therapy. Maybe Beverly shows up at an actual crime scene and helps him "analyze the evidence."

2. Could refer to his dynamic with Hannibal. According to the rest of my bullet points, they return to their therapy sessions, but with memory palace elements and hallucinations, etc., but this time Hannibal is trying to fix Will instead of breaking him down.

Something from Hannibal the novel that no one else has adapted

This could be a few things, but I think it's most likely the end of the novel where he's brainwashing Clarice. Hannibal would use drugs and hypnosis ("therapy") to help Will merge his two halves and fully accept who he is. This happens in different places in their memory palaces, kind of like the white space dinner scene from Dolce, or when they were jumping around to different places in the Red Dragon investigation. To be clear, they're on friendly terms. Will consents to this. He has ample opportunity to escape and go back the US if he wants. We might get a lot of information on Will's childhood and backstory, maybe a "saving Hannah the slaughterhorse"/"silence of the lambs" moment. I'd like to see him as a cop working in New Orleans. The time he got stabbed. The time he didn't have the stomach to pull the trigger. This would be a nice reverse from the S3a dynamic where Will was delving into Hannibal's backstory. :)

Part of this "therapy" could be helping Will let go of Abigail the way Hannibal helped Clarice let go of her father. This plot beat has already been done twice in the show (1. The Primavera line "A place was made for you, Abigail. The only place I could make for you" refers to the place in Will's mind. 2. The WCWTS scene where Hannibal helps Abigail let go of her father. "What you need of your father is here, in your head.") BUT I still want to see it with Will/Hannibal. What I'm really saying is it would be cool if Hannibal showed Will Abigail's skeleton to convince him that she's dead and Will cried over her skull.

For the other half of Will's therapy, Hannibal has to get him to really delight in a murder when he's fully present as himself (Similar to how Clarice ate Paul Krendler's brain. Similar to how Hannibal wanted Will to kill Mason Verger.). Ideally the victim wouldn't be a criminal (Will is already fine killing murderers like Dolarhyde and Bedelia), but a representative of the corrupt judicial system. Someone who has personally slighted Will. An FBI official that Will HATES enough to eat their brain. The perfect option is Kade Prurnell (whose name is an anagram for Paul Krendler!). So yeah I think Hannibal catches Kade Prurnell and they have a dinner party where Will kills her and realizes, "Hey, I don't care what Jack or Alana or the FBI or anyone thinks about me anymore. My personal ethical code is good enough for me because I am MORE ethical than the law." And then he and Hannibal can be full murder husbands after that.

Side character subplots

While all this is happening, there's an international manhunt for Will and Hannibal going on. Jack/Price/Zeller are still at the FBI, probably beefing with Kade Prurnell to establish how awful her character is. Either Clarice Starling, Miriam Lass, or Alana Bloom are on the case. The murder/disappearance of Bedelia (or whoever) in Cuba is their first lead, so everyone gets to go to Cuba!

It's been nearly two seasons since Will interacted with Prurnell, so maybe they need to have a cat and mouse dynamic in Cuba to reignite his loathing. Idk why she would be in Cuba, when she works for the OIG... but who cares! She's there, motivated by greed, basically acting as Will's Pazzi. Maybe she's bullying her underlings in true Krendler fashion.

At this point, Jack is the only somewhat moral person in the entire cast. His primary motivation is saving Will. Yep, that's right, he still thinks there's a chance to bring Will back. He's leading the investigation, but he's hoping to catch Will alone before anyone else finds him so he can try to talk him back onto his side. This would continue the God vs. Devil thing with Hannibal, fighting over Will's soul.

Maybe Jack finds Will when he's in his broken state of mind and they have a chat. I'd want this scene to function like Clarice's hypnosis scene where she talks to her "father." Jack and Will address the vague father/son dynamic they have ("I'm not your father, Will." "Abandonment requires expectation." Jack as God/Will as the Lamb). Jack forgives Will for his crimes. Will forgives Jack for sacrificing him. The conversation helps Will along in his "therapy."

Last time we saw Alana, she was fleeing on a helicopter with Margot and their son. My first thought was "Omg they're going to Cuba! They're going to get Chilton'ed in Cuba!" but Fuller has mentioned that Margot would be actively managing the Verger meat packing company as a vegan girlboss lesbian so idk. (I personally don't see how a vegan could run a meatpacking company... maybe it transitions to tofu packing).

Anyway, I think Alana's character has gotten even darker since Hannibal's escape. She's given up on Will and is completely focused on protecting her family. Knowing Hannibal is going to come to kill her, maybe she sets up some sort of trap for when they come (or she puts Will's dogs under a cardboard box held up by a stick and waits). Maybe she catches Will and Will has to pull a Bedelia and pretend he was kidnapped and brainwashed (and he kinda was, if Hannibal used hypnosis and drugs like in the book). I think it would be fun for her to finally give into her "professional curiosity" about Will and try to study him (like a Bedelia/Mason hybrid character). Maybe she teams up with Jack to use Will to catch Hannibal. It would be wild if W+H actually killed her, but maybe! Maybe she gets the Chilton treatment and lives, but gets a nice facial scar like every other fallen character in the show.

Freddie Lounds would have to come back! And I want her DEAD haha. She's escaped punishment for too long, so in my ideal S4, she writes a book about Abigail even though Will asked her not to. Maybe she's investigating/contaminating Will's crime scenes in Cuba? She's definitely gonna die, but not before W+H use Tattlecrime for some shenanigans!

Chilton loses a limb (that's really all he has left to give). In an actual S4, I'm sure there would be a plot reason for this and some other killer would probably do it, but in my mind it's a comedy beat. W+H don't even set out to get Chilton. They don't hate him, they just find him pathetically entertaining at this point. Through Chilton's own incompetence or some karmic twist of fate, he runs into them (like Barney at the opera). W+H take one look at each other and go, "You know what would be funny..."

I have NO idea what to do for Molly. I assume she's living with Wally's grandparents in Oregon. Maybe Will mails her some signed divorce papers and that becomes evidence in the investigation lol. I'd rather leave her in peace!

More serial killers who used to be Hannibal's patients! W+H read about a former patient's murders in the news and go to catch him before the FBI can (running into the FBI in the process, of course).

Other stuff

I'd love to skip around to Brazil or Buenos Aires, the South American locations from the books. Maybe Hannibal gets injured and needs surgery in Brazil, and his medical records are another lead for the investigation. Maybe the season ends with a happily ever after in Buenos Aires. <3

They pretend to be recovering from plastic surgery to hide their faces in bandages. I just think that would be funny.

Will escapes Alana's clutches by using all the serial killer skills he learned in season one. He pretends to be a dead body, wearing someone else's face as in SotL. (This was actually in the Digestivo script but it got cut.)

They steal an ambulance (and turn off the radio!) again like SotL. And then the "This is very educational" line from Sorbet would come full circle.

Someone has to send a secret message using book code. What if W+H got separated and that's how they had to communicate? Or maybe they communicate to another killer that they're hunting? Or maybe they do it just to taunt the FBI?

Jack vs. Hannibal fight scene (round 3)! This time over Will's soul. Will watches, amused (maybe in broken mind state).

(If anyone else has thoughts I'd love to hear them!)

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal s4 #hannibal season 4 #hannibal meta #will graham #hannigram #cedar writes

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miraculermarinette · 3 months

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I really need to get this of my chest but here I go\

I always see those takes abt how "Luka is a diet Adrien" when in reality, it's the other way around1

Adrien's ""new"" personality is literally just Luka??

He does his best to make her feel comfortable, he doesn't want to pressure her and do things she might not enjoy. He literally does the Luka thing of expressing himself through a fucking song. That he has written himself. Because he's just that good in music (like writing good songs is hard? you gotta be talented or at least practice writing songs until you write one that's actually good???)

It's also a more selfish and possessive version of Luka's confession.

"The melody that no one else hears but me..."

1. That's demonstrably not true. Adrien KNOWS that at least three other guys have had a crush on Marinette -- Nino, Nathaniel, and Luka -- so acting like, "No one else notices or appreciates her great qualities but me" is so arrogant.

2. It once again (unintentionally) demonstrates that Adrien has a very possessive view of love. She can't just be a musical note or melody that exists for its own sake, she has to be one that ONLY HE can hear; only he can appreciate.

Luka compared her to a musical note or a melody, but never one that only he can hear, or play, or appreciate. He said, "You're the song that's been playing in my head since the day we met," true, but...

1. That's just a poetic way of saying, "I've been thinking about you since the day we met."

2. A song playing in your head is still a song that exists outside your head. "This song has been stuck in my head since I heard it on the radio" is a song that still exists out there for other people to enjoy. Often thinking about it doesn't mean the song is one that ONLY YOU can hear or understand.

Not only did Adrien copy Luka, but he copied him in a cheap and terrible way.

Adrien he took what was sweet, beautiful, private, and emotionally intimate about Luka's courtship and once again made it about HIS feelings; feelings of possession and ownership over a girl; grand public spectacle that puts her on the spot and pressures her to reciprocate but when she doesn't, SHE look like the heartless bad guy for "breaking his heart and humiliating him in front of all these people."

So miss me again with the "Luka is a diet Adrien" Bullshit!

It's also funny cause it's just saying that 'actually Luka is Marinette's perfect fit.

(sorry for it being to long)

EXACTLY

#^^#YOU ACTUALLY PUT IT INTO WORDS ANON #adrien salt #thanks for the ask #anon #miraculous ladybug #ml salt #chat noir salt #lukanette

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bunnakit · 4 months

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last twilight ep 7 thoughts, feelings, etc

ALRIGHT i ran my errands, caught up on pit babe and playboyy to relax, and now i'm doing my speedwatch. i took some notes while watching the first time and they're a fucking MESS but hopefully they help me remember everything i want to comment on because without fail i always forget something.

you'll all be glad to know this week's meta bullshit from me is far, far less romantic and wistful than last weeks. you've all been spared by my adhd brain not being able to piece together a single poetic thought.

i kind of knew from this moment the trajectory the episode would take. Day is clearly nervous but not defensive - this isn't out of the realm of something Mhok would do for him but with recent context it probably feels fairly intimate. i think this was a really good indicator of what we're in for.

there's a collection of sunflowers in Day's room, tucked away in the corner, not unlike Mhok tucking away his feelings for Day's comfort. the poor things are shrouded in shadow, away from the light. the pain is unending and forever.

Day's flashback to the kiss has me curious. his eyes are closed so he's not even thinking back to seeing what he can of Mhok up close. as he reminisces about this kiss is he simply remembering the sensation of Mhok's lips on his own? how his hands curled into Mhok's jacket? and i'm sure we've all seen the post but - was he thinking of the way Mhok tasted like cigarettes? this isn't to romanticize his disability, i'm just genuinely wondering what exactly he's drawing on here in this moment, because it's clearly something significant to him.

Porjai just keeps getting prettier every episode and it's making me insane. i just think i should be allowed to take care of her.

"I'm jealous of Day's ability to make you smile."

this makes me think Mhok's smiles have been few and far between, and maybe Porjai has been looking to bring out that smile for a long time. does she ever worry that maybe someday Mhok could end up like Rung? does she worry about finding him too?

oh i so very badly want the context for this, i want to know everything. but also, it's really not that surprising. not when we've seen the things Mhok has done for Day. Mhok lives his life in extremes; anger, kindness, protectiveness, his work, etc. everything Mhok does he puts his whole self into it and it's nice to see his love is no different, because why would it be?

i'm once again in awe of what P'Aof has done with Mhok and Porjai, though. they live together so easily and naturally. there's nothing strange or awkward about it, just two people surviving life together. it's such a breath of fresh air.

Day just cannot catch a break when it comes to August. this has to hurt so fucking badly, the pity has to feel amplified by 1000. not only was August trying to force himself to like Day back because he's blind, but also because he was thinking of leaving. Day is a stronger man than me because i would be frothing at the mouth pissed.

but once again, Mhok doesn't let Day stew in his fish tank. he encourages him to go out and resolve his feelings, even if that means screaming at August and letting out all his hurt and frustration. he's seen what happens when Day lets his hurt fester and he won't let it happen again, not while he's around.

"He's a lot stronger than I thought. It's me who's so weak that I let him down."

as much as August pisses me off, i do think this is him realizing his pity was misplaced, and he failed Day in that way, so he gets some redemption points here. (still think he's a stinky bastard man tho)

the immediate distance Mhok puts between himself and the group never fails to hurt my heart. i get it, he's there for a job, but their relationship has progressed past that - now even moreso, and i cant help but wonder if this is his attempt at keeping a distance, curbing his expectations, reminding himself that while his role is to be by Day's side it's only in a professional capacity.

i love that Gee acknowledges him with a little head nod, occasionally looks in Mhok's direction as if to include him, she's just - ugh - i love all the women in this show so fucking much. i just wish someone would invite Mhok over sometime, encourage him to join the conversation (like they did back at the party.)

sometimes Mhok really is the embodiment of a shadow - both of Day and of his former self (for good or bad.)

(he looks so fucking sexy leaning like that with his shirt tucked into his pants tho, whew.)

Gee also becomes one of my favorite people for asking Day to take the photo of all of them. she just gets it, she includes him, she doesn't act like he can't do things, she even insists he can, she's just !!! the women of all time in this show i swear!!! I LOVE WOMEN!!!!

also the "you don't drink coffee, girl spill the tea" from Gee is just so good. she knows a diversion tactic when she sees one.

i want this expression framed, she's so cute, HELP.

i wish i had the time and energy today to make gifs for this week but ugh. the journey Mhok's face went on here to end up at quiet resignation. because he did figure. someone like Day? with someone like him? because we know Mhok's opinion of himself isn't great, largely influenced by his incarceration and reintegration into society, i'm sure, along with his guilt. but there had been that little bud of hope, a little sunflower seed that had bloomed just a little too far, reached for the sun a little too much. it must feel like a weed in his chest.

the way Day says 'here' so softly, with so much vulnerability made me feel like screaming. he doesn't know what his feelings are for Mhok yet (you can't tell me he doesn't feel anything) but he knows he doesn't want to lose Mhok and the sudden idea of it is terrifying. Mhok is the only person that really understands him, one of the only people he's comfortable around anymore, and he can't lose that. he doesn't want to go back to the dirty fish tank.

i also think this was an indicator to Mhok that maybe Day doesn't know how he feels, and maybe he can get away with flirting in tiny, subtle ways because from here on his secret flirting game is in full effect and it's so fucking cute. he's careful not to completely push past Day boundaries, but to test them in gentle ways.

THE SHOES MY BELOVEDS. we all know what i feel about these shoes after last week and i'm so glad to see all of my stupid babbling confirmed here. i love that Mhok constantly mends things instead of throwing them away. the sentimentality of items means something to Mhok and we love him for that.

we also got a proper 'sweet dreams' this episode, finally!! thank you subbers!

so many shots of feet this ep tho and lemme tell you as someone that HATES feet, this was rough.

oh you are so smitten. Day realizing Mhok is warm, warm in his own way, warm in such a gentle and understated way. UGH. you would've thought he knew after everything they've been through but sometimes people need a reminder and maybe something to drive them to pay closer attention. our boy is BESOTTED. kicking his feet and giggling. i think this is the happiest we've ever seen him.

so here's where i'm probably going to wax poetic the most. Mhok is finally opening up to Day in such an incredible way. he brings Day to his home with no fear of pity or judgement. he brings him into this sanctuary created by him, his sister, and Porjai and he cooks for him and cares for him and in letting him in Day sees even more how impossibly warm Mhok is.

what's even greater is there isn't a single moment where Day is jealous or questions Porjai being there. Mhok has told him she's expecting and he's never weird about it, just kind and understanding and it's all so normalized, it's fucking beautiful. Day even takes the time to encourage Porjai, to share about his mom, and about the strength it takes to be a single mom. P'Aof i adore you.

Mhok has planted jasmine simply because he knows Day likes it, and maybe now he likes it too. and he brings Last Twilight home to practice reading (i'd always wondered how he managed to read without stumbling over himself lmao) and he's done it so much that now Porjai wants to name their child Mee, wants to create this connection to Day forever.

and once prompted, once Day knows enough to ask, Mhok opens up about Rung, talks about her more. Day comments on the warmth of the house, something started by Rung and cultivated by Mhok. it would be so easy for the house to feel cold and clinical, especially knowing what happened here, but Mhok has kept it a home - warm, inviting, comforting - all the things Mhok has been to Day.

the noises took me by fuckin' surprise tho, i genuinely looked around my house like who the fuck is making all that noise and then i was like OH THOSE ARE-- OKAY--

and I know people are like haha P'Aof has a scent kink but like. idk. maybe it's just me but scents are something i'm drawn to. i remember the way someone smelled more than i remember their face. i recently took a shirt out of my closet and immediately started crying. it smelled like face powder and perfume. it smelled like my grandma. the leather jacket pushed to the side smells like cigarettes and horses, like my dad always did.

scent is such an ingrained memory, something that is so hard for our brains to let go of. every time i get a familiar smell it knocks me on my ass, and i'm so glad to see some of this represented in these shows.

this absolutely warmed my heart. whatever is going on with Night and Day is clearly more on Day's side than anything else. Night clearly loves his brother and i'm just fucking DYING to know what is going on that is causing Day to drive a wedge between them. sure, Night hasn't been perfect, but there's love there and that counts for so much.

and what exactly are you doing here??? this is a charity run for blindness - does he know someone that is blind other than Day? did meeting Day inspire him to participate? has he spent time talking to Mhok about Day and maybe the difficulties of his blindness? i am filled with questions but i love this character so much, he's just so kind.

Day's hesitation to cross the finish line was also something i found so interesting. it felt long, possibly too drawn out, but Day needed to think, needed time to understand that if he crosses that finish line, if he accepts Mhok's request to be his boyfriend, their lives will never go back to how they were. things between them will change forever, whether the relationship is a success or otherwise. it's an incredibly mature thing of Day to do, even if it felt a little lengthy for us, the audience.

i strongly believe that in addition to Mhok Porjai is going to be a big driving force in Night and Day's reconciliation. i would love to see Porjai gain Night's side of the story, Mhok gain Day's side of the story, and the two of them working together to see how they can reunite these brothers.

also if i had a nickle for every time P'Aof paired Mark with a pregnant woman in his shows i'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot but it's interesting it has happened twice.

while i, like everyone else, hope the mock proposal is a parallel we get to see later i want to focus more on this moment.

i forget who said it, it's long gone to the depths of my dash by now, but someone commented that disabilities do not stop for love, and fuck is that so true. i love Mhok's concern, his immediate reaction to soothe, and the way he seems to feel Day's fear as his own. and poor Day, he can't even enjoy this moment of bliss with Mhok because of course, of course something like this had to happen. it's so fucking real in the way Last Twilight has been this entire time.

the constant excellent representation of disabled living has been incredible to see, i've seen so much of myself in this show (even though my disability is so very different) and it's been like a warm blanket put over very single comment: you're too young to be disabled, you aren't THAT disabled, you're being dramatic, etc.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you P'Aof and team.

tag loves: @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious (as always tell me if you want to be added {for LT only or all meta} or removed!)

#bunn meta #last twilight #last twilight the series #mhokday #morkday #userjamiec #im soooo fuckin sleepy after making this but i still have to work #someone come make me tea and gimme a little kith

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spaceyaceface · 9 months

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Maybe 👉👈 this is too much to ask... but can I have an Ominis one (obviously 💁‍♀️) with a combined "cut the bullshit, tell me the truth!" and "were you ever going to tell me?"

My heartstrings are tingling about this new batch of writing prompts from you because I know it will be bombastically magnificent! I hope you're doing okay, and thank you very much! 🌟

Hello hello love!!! Ah so excited to be back to do prompts, camping was great but I like my internet connection a little too much haha! Also I get way too poetic in these little blurbs oops enjoy my ramblings :)

Prompts: "cut the bullshit, tell me the truth!" "were you ever going to tell me?"

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader/MC

Warnings: Angst, but fluff of course

"I don't know what you're taking about."

He could hear her pacing just as loudly as he could hear his blood rushing in his ears. They'd been sitting in the Undercroft, reading together, like they'd done many afternoons. He thought she'd been asleep, and like breathing, the words had slipped out.

I love you.

Then she'd shot up, and his heart nearly leapt out of his throat.

Since that moment, he'd instinctively tried to stick to his trusty old tactic when it came to his feelings toward her---

Deny, deny, deny.

It didn't seem to be working this time.

"I heard you, Ominis. I heard you say it. Say it again."

It wasn't even a question this time. It was a demand.

"I didn't say anything."

Her bitter laugh sent a cold chill through him. The steps of her pacing stopped right in front of him, and he had to make a large effort to keep his posture straight to conceal his unease.

"You said you loved me," she said. The confirmation that she had heard those words made him wince, and his head turned away from her, as if trying to escape the sound of her accusing voice. "You said you loved me, Ominis. I--"

The sound of her voice breaking caught him off guard, and he felt his walls slipping away, little by little, as she continued.

"I need to know if you do. If you mean it. Please, cut the bullshit. Tell me the truth."

Tell the truth? After nearly a year of trying to let these feelings wither away, after aching night after night for her, only to awake each day as if nothing was wrong? He'd become a master of deception, woven a perfect net of lies. But it seemed he had finally gotten entangled within it.

"It's true," he muttered. The softness of the sound pierced the air more loudly than it had any right to. "I love you."

She took a step closer to him, and he stepped the same distance back, keeping space between them. She didn't try to move forward again. He was torn between being grateful and hurt by that fact---he wasn't sure he had the strength to move away from her once again.

"You love me," she echoed, and the words in her voice nearly knocked the breath out of him. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

It was his turn to let a bitter chuckle escape him. "Please," he spat. "As if I ever had any right in feeling this way. As if I ever had any chance of you returning my affections."

"The right---Ominis, what on earth are you---"

"Let me remind you who I am, " he said, his tone becoming more firm. "I am Ominis Gaunt. Descendent of Salazar Slytherin, and heir to the Gaunt name. Wretched blood runs through my veins, yet it's the only blood my family counts as worthwhile. The things they've done---the things I've done... So, no. I have no right to anything good. To anything beautiful. No right to anything like you."

She was silent for a moment, and he felt satisfied knowing his words had gotten to her. His message had gotten across. "How dare you," she whispered. A mixed feeling washed over him---one of relief that she understood, yet one of sorrow that his estimate of himself had been confirmed. But then she kept speaking. "How dare you try to tell me you're not worth my love. I choose who I give it to---and you, Ominis, have all of it."

"W-what---"

He was right. When she stepped forward, gripping the front of his robes, he had no power to move away.

"I don't care about your blood. About the things your family made you do. I don't give a single shit about one of them. I care about you."

He could feel her breath on his lips. He should push her away, run, hide, do anything. She wasn't thinking straight. She couldn't mean it. She didn't---

"I love you."

It was the conviction in her voice that sent every last doubt away running. She could have have convinced God to give up his throne with that tone. But here she used it to make him hers.

There was no more air between them---he was quick to make sure of that. His lips pressed to hers, and he found her words were not the only means of convincing him he was loved.

The doubts and worries would come back, he knew, sooner than he would like. But he was content letting her lips and soft whispers chase them away, to lock them behind a door for a while.

He loved her. And by some miracle, she felt the same.

#ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis x reader #ominis x mc #ominis x you #ominis gaunt blurb

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acethatlovesdinos · 2 months

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Brief astarion note in act 3, minor side spoilers ahead

By this point we defeated cazador and astarion remains a spawn.

Anyway we accidentally ran into Miss Blood Fetish in baldurs gate (araj, I don't remember her last name and don't care to Google it), and she asked me to chug her weird potion. I politely declined, she insisted,

And Astarion interrupted.

"She said no. Seems you've yet to learn the meaning of the word."

He stepped in to defend me, to keep his lover safe from the very thing I kept him from earlier in the adventure. Poetic and beautiful, to see a moment like that. I felt...really proud that he'd grown so much and made his boundaries immediately clear.

She still handed me the potion, and Astarion told me not to drink it. He looked genuinely concerned, and said "I just...dont want you getting hurt."

And ladies and gentlemen when I tell you my HEART

I love this man sm

Of course morbid curiosity set in, and i drank the potion anyway lmao

(I fucking exploded, and, btw, Araj got UPSET with me that I "vandalized" her house, despite her saying that the potion was to remain strictly inside her house, so like, whyd she get so mad when she fucked around and found out)

Of course she asked for another blood sample when she discovered my volatile ichor, and I, tired of her bullshit, refused. Once again she insisted,

And Astarion actually raised his voice at her, getting upset on my behalf that someone was being so rude and demanding, so degrading of my own rights and autonomy.

I outright told her no and she fought us (she died in 2 hits lol) and I just

I'm so proud of my boy ;w;

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion

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phantomrose96 · 11 months

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The cool thing about writing something completely without peer review like fanfiction and also writing many hundreds of thousands of words of it is I have no idea what turns-of-phrase I have accidentally completely invented. I have no editor to tell me "Chrissy literally no one has ever said these words together."

And I'm positive these exist in my writing because there's creativity and metaphor and [insert a bunch of literary devices] in writing that often call for using words in atypical but evocative ways. Narrative style already goads you to walk close to the cliff and stretch beyond the literal meaning of what you're saying because the human brain delights in a certain amount of poetic lenience and I'm positive, I'm positive I've tumbled over that cliff. Invented some turn of phrase which felt right at the time and then retroactively convinced myself that was a thing people say because I kept on using it.

And I think about this most of all when readers have asked permission to translate my writing (always yes!) because I always imagine them stumbling on such a phrase and going "ah hmm, this one is strange. let me look into what this could mean so I can find the right translation for it" and it's all bullshit. pure bullshit. I'm sorry for the words I've said that had the right vibes in my own brain and yet mean literally nothing. It will happen again.

#chrissy speaks

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imaginesinthewind · 2 months

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Dating Regulus Black would include

From anonymous: Hi love 🩷✨I was just wondering if you can write dating regulus black headcanons? Like the Sirius one (that I’m absolutely obsessed with btw).

A/N: Dear anon, I hope you will like this one. I'm sorry about the time it took, I just simply forgot to check my inbox 🫠. Gif above is not mine. Also, I'm trying more and more to write things in gender neutral. Feel free to comment if I missed something. 💛

- He has that poetic elegance that follows him like a shadow. He is beautiful, like a Dead Poets Society character, or like Dorian Gray.

- Shy boy at first. Let's not lie, Sirius takes so much space that our Regulus has to be the quiet, introverted one.

- You probably would have to make the first step.

- Lonely boy. Not because he doesn't like people, but because like every child who had abusive parents, he's just so anxious, scared of taking too much space. And just like his brother, he keeps his emotions to himself, and stays alone when he has a problem.

- Stolen glances and smiles across the classroom at first.

- He falls for you not because you are so beautiful, but because you are smart and insightful.

- He takes you on dates under the stars, to the library, sharing about his favourite poems or novels.

- When he doesn't dare to share about his feelings, he talks to you in French.

- "Tu sais que tu es jolie comme un cœur?"

- At some point, when he refuses to give you the translation, you ask Sirius, who is tempted to translate bullshit to you just to mess with his little brother. He doesn't, though. Because he knows how smitten he is with you.

- A.proper.gentleman

- Offers you his arm, kisses your hand, gives you his jacket if you are cold, opens doors

- Writes you beautiful letters with perfume on it

- Is the perfect dance partner

- You admire the way he speaks and writes so elegantly

- He plays the violin and piano, by education obligation. But when he notices how much you love it, he slowly grows to like it himself.

- He introduces you to his favourite cousin, Andromeda

- Shy kisses, passionate kisses, soft kisses

- So many kisses

- When Sirius leaves the family house/gets kicked out, things become heated.

- He keeps repeating how much he hates him for abandoning him. Deep down, you know that he still loves his brother

- Depressive episodes of feeling like he's not enough

- Tears and comforting hugs in the dormitories

- He tries desperately to fix things between his parents (understand by that Walburga), rather than step out for his beliefs

- A lot of pressure

- You give him shoulder massages and run your fingers through his black curls

- When he is given the Black family ring, after some time, he gives it to you because of the protection spells on it. He just wants to keep you safe.

- His patronus is originally Padfoot. After a while, it shifts into the same as yours, because no one makes him more happy than you

- He avoids the matter of the mark. But in the summer of his 16th birthday, when he suddenly stops answering your letters, you have a bad feeling

- That reveals to be true when you go back to Hogwarts

- You encourage him, again and again, to talk to his brother

- In the end, i like to believe that he proposed, and fought for his beliefs because he wanted to build a safe world for you and his future family

(a girl is allowed to dream)

#regulus x reader #regulus headcanons #regulus headcanon #regulus imagine #regulus imagines #regulus black #harry potter imagines #marauders era

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kiryoutann · 7 months

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Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

Please consider donating to my Kofi. That would really help me!

Likes, replies, reblogs, and shares also count. Once again, thanks so much!

It's funny. You're in the same city, with the same bad weather. Water droplets hit the window and slipped down, leaving a long trail. In a coffee shop with pricey coffee that aggravates your stomach ache, yet you drink every sip of that venti size for the sake of unproven internet articles about how it increases dopamine. It's funny with a dash of melancholy. You're in a city where you and your friends have shared wonderful moments, but these recollections are little more than distant figments. To be here once more, trying to run away from someone, despite the fact that you knew there was no distance in the world that could keep him out of your thoughts and heart.

Lately, you have developed into a big liar, with yourself as the sufferer of its resentment. While your empty eyes stare at the journal you bought at the antique shop you passed on your walk this afternoon, you keep repeating the same sentence. I will breathe again. I will breathe again. Healing is a long journey, as your psychiatrist said. Happiness, though, is promised after all of this.

Uncertain of the time. But it is promised.

(You're sure that's just one of the many bullshit things she's said to you. Maybe she feels guilty. You've already paid her a lot of money, and yet you're still as horrible as the first time you came to her.)

The empty journal stared at you, the pen between your fingers was dying to roll away. Your head is empty, but it feels heavy. Your heart aches, but it still persists in its pursuit of someone who drives you to leave your hometown and end up in a distant city. Perhaps a knife is necessary to remove his name, which seems to have been inscribed on your mind for all time. But now you're left with writing down both your feelings and thoughts on a piece of lined paper, hoping that will make it more organized, perhaps even poetic and pretty, so that the agony won't seem as scary.

(The day you will breathe again is a long way off.)

The expensive pen was brought back—the rich always spend their money on useless things, with them ending up craving the things their wealth can't buy. The ink is almost etched into the paper to write a starting word that you haven't even decided yet. Journaling has never been your forte. Though, from what little identity you have left, you know you always try as far as possible before giving up on whatever it is you are attempting to succeed at.

(Oh, look. Isn't it a situation you've seen before?)

The rain is still pouring fiercely in Madrid, but that isn't what is keeping you from leaving this coffee shop. No, you're well aware you can always call someone to pick you up, hold an umbrella for you, or even drive you back to the penthouse your father gave you—rich people always have enough money to buy the things they think they want after all—but maybe the solitude that comes with living in a posh building is what you are trying to avoid. Silence means you're left alone with your thoughts, and these days, your mind is no longer a secure refuge where you can hide from the outside world. Not when there is still a claim and someone's name properly carved beneath it.

Thirty minutes passed, and the journal paper was still blank. The pen ink left outside in the wind risks drying out. Journaling has never been your forte. You're starting to give up on starting words; at this point, it might be better to just engrave his name in a big, messy font. After all, expressing feelings and thoughts in that way still qualifies as doing so.

When you take a breath, you can feel the anchor in your ribcage. The pen cast a shadow on the paper beneath, then met its ends to mark black on the lined page of the antique journal. You were about to mention his name—the obstructed arteries made your heart throb in pain. However, isn't it impossible not to mention his name in your story? After all, he was the main character in all of this. A red-haired man who leaves nothing more than the moral of the story: that in fact, love is not enough, no matter how much you have given him. You avoid his name like a death sentence, and yet you also know how unavoidable it is—how inescapable he is. In fact, he is still the ghost that always haunts both your dreams and nightmares.

Is a year not enough? Why is a year not enough for you to heal? The pen is gripped tightly around your fingers; it became a victim of how much you want to take this pain out on something else, on someone else.

That naive girl reappears as a reminder that you are still her—without moving an inch. Her drops of blood were still red and wet. Her bones were brittle and weak, the result of carrying her love alone. The twinkle in her irises was long gone, and you found your own reflection in her dull eyes. But, despite all that, she continued to maintain an artificial smile with her lips curved up because she always tries as far as possible before giving up on whatever it is she's attempting to succeed at.

(The mirror takes on the embodiment of the shadow of your former self.)

The man's name was her favorite, still her favorite. In order to comfort her tired and broken heart, you let the pen dance and write.

Two years ago..

Skyscrapers; global corporate headquarters (of which the majority place third in terms of revenue for the largest tax payers in the nation), penthouses, and five-star hotels with restaurants on the top floors. All of that seemed to be designed with the intention of acting as a line between the wealthy and the less fortunate. In fact, when they heard the roar of an engine emanating from a pink Ferrari that had slowed down in front of the valet area of the most exclusive club in town, people's heads turned immediately, as if on automatic pilot. The woman driving is a familiar face to them.

A pair of red-soled shoes were the first luxury item they spotted. As you step out of the vehicle, hair strands scented with high-end hair products are apparent. When you straightened up and tossed your car keys to the valet, the fur coat exposed your beautiful shoulders. You dress to the nines, as one would expect from a wealthy socialite. Rumor has it the number of zeros on your overnight bill would be enough to boggle the mind. You enter the club through the VIP entrance, each step mocking the long line of people on the other side. They know better than to make their biggest spender wait.

The room was filled with lively music, and strobe lights illuminated the sea of dancers. Some individuals laughed out loud, while others came dangerously close to colliding with the table and breaking wine bottles. However, it was as if everyone had sensors—they found you, almost as if your presence was confirmed by a spotlight following you to the table where your friends were.

Suddenly, everyone seems to be on their best behavior—treating every place you have been as a red carpet and expecting it to increase their caste. Hell, they might even lick your spit with honor. Everything is focused on you. People want to be friends with you more than they want to be friends with geniuses who have clearly made a better contribution in the world than waste money. Perhaps this is what makes them so ignorant and deaf to their surroundings; the rich are in their own world—the world of the rich.

"Over here, hun!" Another privileged rich girl's voice pierced the air. The wealthy are only friends with people of similar fortune.

Your girls greet you with soft applause and big smiles on their faces, scooting to make a place for you to sit. On the table are several bottles of alcohol. The smell of expensive perfume mixed together. They appeared to be half inebriated from stealing the start before you arrived, but being the happiest girl here, you chose not to care and accepted the proffered champagne bottle covered in bling.

“To our bride-to-be!” One of them shouted, echoed by the others as glasses were raised.

(Y/N), a privileged girl who receives everything on a silver platter, is getting married. Not only that, but also to the man of your dreams, your first love. Although it's commonly believed that first loves never works out, yours does; all thanks to daddy's money and connections. Your lips start to smile slightly as you think about it. Red is engraved on the back of your head—the hair color of the country's most eligible bachelor, your soon-to-be-husband, Diluc Ragnvindr.

It's like a fairy tale: a princess has found her prince. Two people who were born into money and have nothing to fear. The world is at your fingertips, and all it takes is a swipe and some cash to obtain what you want. You believe Diluc and you were made for each other, because otherwise why would the Lord bother to bring you two together? Soon enough, you'll be following him wherever he goes and vice versa. You have listed the honeymoon destination in the list on your cellphone; although there are certain regions you end up going again, you don't mind if it's with Diluc. How simple, how naive.

"So, how's the wedding planning going?" Helga, sitting to your left, asks.

You try drinking to get rid of the lump in your throat brought on by the query. “Great! Everything is perfect, almost done.” You pray that they are too drunk to notice how forced your smile is.

Another of your friend nudged you, “Did Mr. Ragnvindr helped you?" Her tone was playful as she wiggled her brows.

“Of course! Diluc has been a huge help with..” You paused, “.. With the venue! I'm sure you ladies know how long the line was this year, right? Well, Diluc managed to cut in and secured it for our wedding." When you notice your friends looking at you enviously, you know the deception has been perfectly told. Some of them praised him for being considerate, saying that he met their expectations for a man. The fact that Diluc has never spent a night or a cent in a nightclub and instead chooses to stay up late working on paperwork or playing chess is an additional plus.

Little do they know, you haven't even spoken to him in a month. Voice mail was left for each call that ended without an answer. Your kind requests for a lunch date or even just a dinner invitation are simply replied with a polite "No, thank you." You kept going to his office, and when the receptionist said that Diluc was in a meeting and couldn't receive any visitors—including his fiancée—you glumly left the office and made your way back to your car. Lately, your patience has been evaporating faster lately, and you can no longer just tell yourself that he's probably just really busy with his work.

Your friends don't need to know that, though. They didn't need to know that (Y/N) (L/N), the wealthiest girl in town and the founder of the "Regal Society," had been neglected by her fiancé.

One more thing they didn't need to know was that the next day, despite your headache from the hangover, you had left your cozy bed and your parents' mansion to park your luxury car carelessly in front of the Ragnvindr Enterprise building. Your feet enter through the revolving door in footsteps as diligent as those of uniformed employees. All of that only for you to find yourself impatiently tapping your Louboutin heels with your glare fixed on the receptionist, who smiles nervously behind her desk.

"Apologies, ma'am. However, the director is unable to accept anyone today—"

"I need to see him." You rudely interrupted before inhaling. "I need to see him, and all you've done is keep me, his fiancée, from seeing him."

The receptionist gave you a confused face as she glanced back and forth behind you as if she needed assistance. You weren't usually so adamant, usually just one answer was enough for you to turn around and leave the place. She wasn't sure whether to feel guilt or sympathy. For a couple getting married at the end of the month, Diluc avoids you like the plague while you try to attach yourself like a parasite in need of a host.

She is nevertheless required to follow Diluc's instructions not to allow you to see him.

“Apologies, ma'am. Under the director's own order.” She said.

You grit your teeth. “Do you want to be fired, Barbara?” You direct your gaze to the name tag near her chest. “Because if you want, I can do that. My father-in-law owns this company, and my fiancé is your boss. So, if you want to keep your job, let. Me. See. Diluc.”

Maybe she knew the threat was empty, because how could Diluc fire her if all she had been doing was following his orders? Barbara pursed her lips into a thin line. She looked at your gorgeous face, wondering how much money you spent to have such flawless skin. Must be a lot. Even the most affordable procedure at the clinic you visit is beyond the reach of her monthly salary.

Barbara dipped her head in a low bow. “Apologies, ma'am. I am merely carrying out the director's instructions." She says.

With a purposefully loud groan, you took a step back and turned your back to the front desk. It's a waste. This woman is more stubborn and obedient than you think. She won't let you in using the security pass machine, and it's not your style to make a scene either. When you shifted your gaze, an employee had entered the gate, stamped a card, and then vanished into an elevator after going around a corner. As soon as someone else tries to come through the rotating door, you quickly move to stop him.

"Hello." You greet “kindly.”

“.. Hello.” New hire, you assume. "Can I.. can I help you?"

"Yes, you can." you said before pointing your manicured nails to the identification card and the access card he was wearing around his neck. "How much is that?"

The man is perplexed; his gaze follows where you point, and he picks up his lanyard. "Uh.. this? It's not for sale."

“I know.”

Your hand reaches into your leather handbag. He furrowed his brows before his eyes widened when you pulled out a wad of $10,000 bills. Who in their right mind would carry so much cash around? Instinctively, his eyes scan you from head to toe. He's no fashion expert, but everyone knows the expensive Birkin bag and the price range of jewelry that adorns your neck and wrists. When he reaches your face again, you smile at him.

"Will this be enough?"

Ah, the world of the rich. They believe a wad of cash can solve everything; though that sentence can be proven true as the huge amount of money was accepted by him despite his misgivings. He doesn't want to blow the opportunity or risk you changing your mind. So, a bargain has been reached: you give him a wad of $10,000, more than enough to cover his living expenses for a while, and he provides you an ID and access card that are both attached to a lanyard.

The sound of your Louboutins contacting the floor is heard as you turn around and step away with a contented smile. As you walk toward the security pass machine, the lanyard swings. You press the card to the scanner, waiting for the gate to open before fixing your gaze on the receptionist who turned her head from the 'ding!' sound she heard. You caught her attention. Whatever was going on inside her tiny skull, her wide-open eyes and slackened jaw showed that she was still in shock.

“Stop right there!! Ma’am!!”

It was too late when she returned to reality because you were already standing behind the closing doors. The elevator starts going up; the numbers change from 2.. 3.. until you choose to check yourself in the mirror, wiping the lipstick that has smudged around your lip line with the tip of your fingernail. You turned to face the door. Your high heels tap impatiently on the marble floor. Thoughts of possible reasons he completely closed off communication with you raced through your mind as you pondered each one. Why won't he make a call? Did you annoy him? Maybe he's sick of you by now?

You pursed your lips. No, there will never be a scenario where he gets sick of you. All along, you've been perfect to Diluc, sending him daily texts to wish him a good day, calling to remind him of breakfast (even though it always ends up unanswered), and making sure to send him pictures of you and your girls every night so he knows you won't stoop so low and go out to clubs alone with other guys.

There’s no way when you've been such a perfect woman for him. Loyal, loving, and caring. He might just need some alone time—yes, that must be the answer. You've heard a lot from your married friends that their husbands do this a few weeks prior to the wedding.

When the elevator doors opened, you wasted no time and stepped inside despite having excitement and anxiety rising in your gut. You enter a familiar corridor that you haven't been to in a while, with a lengthy wall finishing at a door bearing Diluc's name and his executive director position. The sound of footsteps from your high heels echoed, stopping when you reached the vacant secretary's desk right in front of Diluc's office. He must still be in a meeting.

You debate whether to stay here and wait or enter his office and sit down there. However, before you could make your choice, your head turned at a ding! sound from the elevator and the clatter of two security guards who came out in a hurry to approach you. The third figure that comes out is the receptionist who forbids you to come up here. Her expression shows that she is not entirely confident in her choice to dispatch those tall men who are now in front of you.

"Ma'am, the director has ordered no one to see him." One of the men said to you, clearly trying to keep his intonation polite.

"But, I'm his fiancée!" You put your hand between your collarbones in a dramatic way. The diamond in what the security guard assumed to be your engagement ring caught his attention. Certainly, the price reaches ridiculous proportions; even a year's pay is insufficient to purchase it.

Unfortunately, the other one wasn't so patient. He saw your reluctance to leave. Something then clicked inside his brain to put a grip on you to drag you back into the elevator. You gasped, trying to yank your wrist from him. His fingers tighten on you, and the intensity of his hold burns your flesh. Your expensive bracelet jangled and clanged. He does not let go, resisting your attempts to escape, even as if deaf to your protests and your futile efforts.

“Let me go! How dare you!! Don't you know who my father is?!”

As if he is on a personal vendetta mission, he doesn't even listen to his co-worker telling him to stop. He fixed a determined gaze on the elevator. In an effort to stay still, the points of your high heels screeched against the marble floor. A rich girl is being dragged away no different from a criminal.

"What's all the ruckus about?"

All of the heads turned to the person with the red irises as soon as they heard the new baritone voice and a few halting steps. His brows furrowed as he looked at you and the security guard alternately. Diluc Ragnvindr. Adelinde, his personal secretary, rushes to you in concern as she notices your wrist turning red after you yanked your hand firmly from the security guard's loosened grip. For a couple who were getting married in two weeks, Diluc only realized who you were after five seconds had passed. His expression changed from confusion to one of surprise.

“Diluc!” You called him cheerfully as you approached, as if you weren't just about to be dragged away like a bag of rice just now.

The two security guards exchanged glances before fixing their attention on Diluc, as if waiting for confirmation whether he still wanted you to be taken away or let you be. He signaled for everyone to leave you both alone. You smiled wider when Diluc laid his eyes back on you.

“Miss (Y/N).”

Your name rolls off his tongue in a way more awkward than a child learning to speak. That made you tighten your smile. It's okay, you thought. It takes time—you're confident all you both need is time. Soon, he will drop "Miss" and start calling you by more familiar terms, possibly even preferring "dear" or "darling." You're not sure which is better, but as long as it comes from Diluc, you'll take it.

"It's almost time for lunch! Are you going to eat now?" You asked, failing to notice the poorly concealed expression of unease.

Diluc sighed before he even realized it. He picks up details about you: a woman adorned in jewelery that clearly proves where she stands in social class. In those eyes that looked at him expectantly, Diluc never imagined you would be so resolute, as if you had no dignity and still insisted on meeting the man who had been obviously avoiding you for a few months (or had you not noticed?).

“No,” Diluc replied, making no attempt to hide the annoyance in his tone. “I was going to eat a sandwich in my office. Were you here for any other reason?”

Something from his answer made your smile fall. "Love, how can you eat that as your... lunch?"

Diluc paused for a moment, confused by your question. He's certain he said "sandwich," but it doesn't explain why you're staring at him as if he told you he was going dumpster diving and eating whatever he can find.

“It’s just a sandwich,” He replied. “I don’t see what the issue is with me eating it for lunch.”

You shook your head in disapproval. “The calorie count won't be enough for supporting your health. After all, you are a busy man, right?” The creases between his brows deepened as he listened to the same person who spent her nights out at clubs and getting herself wasted talking about health and the value of eating well. “Don't worry, though. I’ve already reserved the nicest restaurant for us to have lunch. Should we go there now?” You continue.

Diluc's eyes grew wide at what you said. Did he hear it right? Have you reserved a table for the two of you at a restaurant to eat together? How.. impolite. Not even asking a word from him on this is too audacious of you to do. You should be aware that he is purposefully avoiding you and that all of your unanswered calls aren't just accidental. Now that you’ve barged into his office, why do you think he'd want to go to lunch with you?

"No," He said firmly. "I already told you that I was planning to eat a sandwich at my desk. And I do not appreciate you making such a reservation without consulting with me first."

Diluc is always good at drawing boundaries, but you’re better at crossing them.

"But, Diluc, it's been a long time since we could talk and see each other." You gave him a hopeful gaze before taking his hand to reassure him even more. “I already made a reservation for us. It's my friend's restaurant, and they already have a Michelin star. Please? I'm sure it won't disappoint!” You give him a big smile, unaware of his dislike.

The man's shoulders tensed from your touch, in a way no fiancé should react to that. Although he felt irritability building within of him, he maintained his composure.

"I already told you earlier that I wasn't interested in going out for lunch today," He said sternly, pulling his hand away. "Your friend's restaurant may have a Michelin star, but I do not wish to eat there today."

“Then, what will you eat? Sandwich? Is that your favorite kind of food? The restaurant specializes in French cuisine, but I'm sure they'll accept our request for sandwiches."

You don't understand him, do you? The issue isn't with the cuisine or which restaurant to visit; it's with you. Diluc felt his brain reach a dead end. With each deep breath he took to exercise patience, his shoulders raised before falling once more. He fixes his eyes right on you, that should be enough to make you shudder. But, instead of being afraid, you still stand with eyes full of hope. What are you hoping for from a man like him?

“You seem to not understand what no means," Diluc said bluntly. "If you want to go to that restaurant, you can go on your own. As for me, I planned on eating my sandwich in my office. I have some paperwork to catch up on, and I need some time for myself."

Unless you have only one hard-working brain cell left, that should be enough for you to understand. He watches you open your lips again—and for the first time, he wonders what you still have to say to him. However, that opportunity quickly expires when you both hear the sound of new footsteps accompanied by the presence of a man with red hair of the same shade as Diluc's.

"Well, well.. isn't this my favorite girl?”

Crepus Ragnvindr—the father of the cold man in front of you—supported a kind smile that could never be carved on Diluc's handsome face. They resemble one another almost exactly, but they have totally distinct personalities. When Diluc spends his prayers to make you disappear from his life, Crepus is now extending out his hand to welcome you to a friendly hug.

"Father!" You greeted his father cheerfully.

Diluc watched you hug his father before he gave his own greeting, "Father." He acknowledged him with a curt nod.

The older man stared at you. "I was surprised to see you here. Are you here for Diluc?” As he spoke, he turned to look at his one and only child.

“Yes! I'm here to invite Diluc to lunch.” You briefly pause your explanation. "But it seems he wants to eat here because he is busy with work." Diluc noted the little decrease in brightness in your second statement and he clenched his jaw when Crepus glared at him.

Crepus let out a chuckle. "Is it true? Well, he's always been a workaholic. I hope you can take better care of him when you become his wife.”

The young man heard his father's comment and felt annoyance pour over him. It's obvious that Crepus already assumed that you would be Diluc's wife, and he expects him to follow your every word. From the start, he disapproved of the idea of being paired up with someone just because your families had arranged it for you. As far as he's concerned, you two barely know each other, and it goes without saying that two strangers aren't really prepared for marriage.

"Father," He began, speaking up. "Miss (Y/N) was kind enough to invite me to lunch, but I've already made plans for myself."

“Nonsense. (Y/N) came all the way here just to invite you out for lunch, and you'd rather stay here to do paperwork? Leave that to someone else. You should've been the one to ask her, not the other way around." Crepus said to him, taking your side; then he looked at Diluc and continued, "You will have lunch with (Y/N) and me. And leave the formalities behind, she will soon become your wife; therefore you should address her by her first name.”

From how heavy Crepus' words were, Diluc closed his eyes and sighed. As usual, his statements held weight and were difficult to argue against. Diluc will never understand—he will never understand what his father sees in a spoiled naive girl like you.

"Fine," He said reluctantly. "I suppose there's no choice in the matter. Just make sure our lunch isn't too long. I've still got a lot of work to do and I can't waste too much time with you both."

You let out a dramatic gasp and excitedly clapped your hands together. “Of course! I understand how busy you are. You will absolutely love the restaurant!” You said to Diluc, then took a step closer to him and put your hand around his arm; he no longer tries to avoid, like a guy who has given himself up.

Despite the fact that the wedding is still two weeks away, for Diluc, the tip of hell has just begun. The elevator doors opened widely. Crepus was the first to exit the elevator before you and Diluc came right behind him. He could feel people's eyes on you two, and even the receptionist who had prevented you from entering couldn't believe what she was seeing now. The chauffeur holds the door open for the three of you to enter the polished black Rolls Royce.

The world of the rich. They can be seated in a car that costs as much as a person's house and all of their savings, surrounded by luxury and opulence, the finest things money can buy, and yet still feel empty. Diluc turned his attention from the recognizable metropolis beyond the window, to you and Crepus, who were busy chatting happily. Inside, he was cursing his life, cursing the people who forced him into an engagement that would tie him forever in a loveless marriage with a woman whose touch had become like a chain that was squeezing him ever tighter. A bird in a golden cage.

Even after entering the luxurious restaurant with one Michelin star, nothing about the cuisine served on black plates and the expert chef plating can take away the bitter taste from Diluc's tongue. He kept glancing at his watch, waiting for the second he could return to the office. The day isn't quite over, though, when his father considers visiting one of the numerous new pubs they have planned to open in the upcoming month before Crepus heads home early for his golf routine.

When the driver habitually made a turn onto a road he knew perfectly, Diluc could feel the sunlight falling on him. It was inappropriate for him to sit in the car next to his fiancée while waiting to see someone else's figure. He wanted to tell the driver to turn around or take a different path and to let him know he wasn't in the mood for flowers today, but, his voice choked and the words evaporated before they could be said. His palms gripped in anticipation of meeting her, and he could feel his heart racing madly in his ribcage.

“The usual, sir?”

A no should be the answer. However, as if he liked playing with fire, Diluc parted his lips and murmured, "Yes." He inhaled deeply. "We'll be making a stop at the flower shop." He knew this wasn't the best time to go, but if he could see that florist again, even for a moment, it would be worth it.

“Flower shop?” He turned to you after you said that. "Are you going to buy me flowers?"

The question comes with a broadening smile that lifts your cheeks. A sick sense of reality was trying to make him realize he shouldn't be like this, and the best he could still do in this little time was to reconsider his decision and order the driver to turn around. Diluc wasn't even sure when he turned into a man seeking thrills when he played his own and other people's heartstrings. Your eyes sparkle with hope. What are you hoping for from a man like him?

Instead of putting an end to his intentions, a half lie came out of him.

"Well," He replied awkwardly after a moment of silence. "In recent times, I've been wanting to get some flowers a little more often, so I suppose I could buy a few for you as well."

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but smile as excitement rose in your chest at the thought that Diluc would give you flowers. Though this wasn't the first time you'd gotten one from him, the idea of going to a flower shop with him sounded lovely. A chance to show the world that whatever he purchases next is for you and will always be for you. Everyone would know (even though they already did) that you are the woman who has snagged the city's most eligible bachelor.

After all, isn't it a matter of pride for a woman to end up with her true love?

“I had no idea you were a flower enthusiast.” You commented, turning to Diluc, who was staring out the window. “Fine. Surprise me with any flowers.”

Diluc cocked his head in your direction and briefly locked eyes with you before quickly turning his head away. Guilt enveloped his heart. In his defense, you should’ve expected that matters of the heart are not something that can be forced, and no matter how much money you have, you will never be able to make him love you. So, it wasn't entirely his fault, was it? You signed yourself up for this obvious, loveless relationship. It wasn't entirely his fault, but Diluc was fully aware that he was a grown man with the power to end it. Nevertheless, he made the decision to be an "obedient" son and not let his father down. That's the thing about standing still and not being able to make a decision. He wasn't willing to sacrifice anything, and now he has to lead a double life. Something in his mind warned him this would get even messier if he didn't stop, but Diluc countered that it wouldn't, as long as you didn't know.

The car stopped to park on the side of the road. You smoothed your shirt's wrinkles, straightened your back, and looked in your leather cushion foundation mirror. After double-checking that your lipstick is still flawless, you place it in your bag, and the driver holds the door open for you to exit the vehicle.

Diluc stood while adjusting his cufflinks, clearly familiar with the surroundings. However, you take three turns to look for the flower shop where your personal assistant usually buys flower arrangements for your friends. Nothing. Lined up here are small, unbranded clothing boutiques with faded "open" signs hanging on their doors. The structures here are old. You almost jump at the rough and boisterous voices of a group of teenagers in their worn-out uniforms. The businesses here look more rundown and less polished than you typically see, with a slightly grittier and less genteel atmosphere.

You tried to ignore the burning question in your head about why Diluc was a regular at a place like this. On your fourth attempt, your gaze lands on a flower shop.

It's a flower shop. A simple flower shop with the name of the business painted above it on a worn sign that you don't care to read. Several pots full of fresh flowers were set up in front of it, though the size was not comparable to your usual florist. The selection of bouquets displayed in line was modest and nothing to brag about; some were simply plainly wrapped in brown paper next to the pricing board. But, you notice that whoever runs this business has a keen eye and a hand that cares about the small details of how these flowers are neatly arranged without the slightest flaw.

Diluc took a step closer to it. The sound of footsteps from his Berluti loafers was heard by the shop owner and a blonde woman in a ponytail came out to greet him with a smile. Full of familiarity. They exchanged glances full of familiarity.

“Diluc, hello again.”

The sight of the florist brings back memories of their first meeting, when Diluc was on his way to visit his mother's grave and found this place. Jean Gunnhildr. He learned her name the second time he visited. Since then, he has acknowledged somewhat ashamedly that he has come here dozens of times just to see her. The florist was very polite and sincere, and he became very attracted to her during her visits. Jean Gunnhildr was someone different from the many women he often saw, and the most important thing was that she was different from you.

He didn't need another thing to remind him of an engagement he didn't plan. He didn't need another person to remind him of a fiancée he didn't want.

Jean noticed the presence of an additional person and turned to you. "Ah! Hello! How may I help you?” She greeted you and Diluc's heart skipped a beat almost forgetting you were behind him. He turned to you, watching you walk closer looking at the flowers on display.

You didn't respond to Jean, still busy sweeping your gaze—which Diluc interpreted as judgmental (possibly because he had taken you to a no-name flower store rather than the one he typically ordered whenever there was a required day he had to give you a bouquet of flowers)—at each corner of this establishment. Something in Jean's expression changed, and he was made to feel so awkward that he had to clear his throat to get the blonde's attention.

"Ahem, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Jean." Diluc introduced you two to each other, and your brows furrowed, wondering how he could be on first-name terms with a florist on the outskirts of the city.

Something in Jean's smile changed to one that looked thinner and forced. She was uncomfortable. Diluc didn't blame her, you always had it in you to make people feel that way, like an unbreakable spell. She held out her hand hesitantly for a handshake.

"That is a lovely name." You heard Jean say.

A compliment so sweet, or a lie to deceive? Either she meant it or this is one of her tactics for flattering you to get you to spend a lot of money in her shop. You're so used to receiving praises and compliments from people looking for rewards that it's difficult to separate it out.

However, you put an end to your long thoughts, telling yourself that a compliment is a compliment. A built-in mechanism to stop overthinking. You formed a smile and grasped her hand.

“Thank you. I'm Diluc's fiancée.”

Not required, but brought up nonetheless. You speak his name aloud so everyone can hear it too. "Diluc’s fiancée," as if that were all that you were, and that you had no other identity; as if your whole life belonged only to him. It's like you have nothing but a diamond ring on your ring finger Your existence and soul are for hire. What else could such a woman be but the shadow of her man, whom she clings to desperately?

Jean smiled, one that stood out from the ones you usually saw from people as you watched her blue eyes light up. “Congratulations! You two are a perfect match!” She expressed her happiness with sincerity.

This time, you smiled widely at her words. Like a school girl with a crush, you blush ever so sweetly. If she said it to flatter you and get on your good side, she was successful. You and Diluc are the perfect couple, of course; isn't that obvious? A modern fairy tale, a princess has found her prince. A match made in heaven. The feeling of happiness that comes from hearing it from someone's lips never gets old.

"I like you, Jean." You said, earning a chuckle from her.

You had no idea that someone was experiencing feelings entirely at odds with your own.

To Jean, your upcoming marriage must seem like a blessing. But for Diluc, it was more like a curse. The moment he saw her cheerful smile, he was made to wonder what could have been if Jean had been the one he would be marrying instead of you. How dare the stars above tease him with this chance to be with her, only for him to be condemned to marry someone else, sealing his fate. He will be bound to you, and Jean will forever be the one that got away.

Despite it all, Diluc tried to put on a pleasant expression and ignored the suffocating weight on his chest. “Thank you for your kind words,” He said politely. “Now, if you could show us some flowers, (Y/N) was looking to get some for herself.”

“Of course. Do you mind if I give you a recommendation?”

“Not at all.” You answered Jean, then followed her as she walked over to her buckets of fresh flowers.

Jean took several white roses. “I recommend you white roses. While they are quite popular in symbolizing purity and innocence, they also mean love, loyalty, peace, and new beginnings.” She turned to you before walking over to her small table to arrange the flowers into a bouquet.

You glide through the small, humble flower shop, your eyes flitting over the variety of beautiful blooms. The more you step inside, the more you realize that there are some things that Jean can't fix. Those shelves and countertops are scuffed and worn from years of use; the paint is fading; and the display cases have a few dents and scratches. The tips of your Louboutins hit the cracked tile on the floor. It's a shame she hid her talents in this place.

“Your flowers are beautiful,” you said, placing your gaze on the bouquet of fresh flowers on Jean's table—you guessed it was someone's order. “and your arrangements aren't so bad. What made you choose to open your shop in such a place, when you could be in the center of the city? With your skills, you could make so much money with your talent, if you're brave enough to move where the money is.”

“(Y/N).” Diluc warned.

You turned to him in confusion. "What?" You furrowed your brows, not knowing why he was now glaring at you sharply.

The world of the rich. So ignorant of the struggles of the less fortunate. So far from the realities that most must fight to survive in the streets of this city. Renting a store in the wealthy, bustling center, with its high prices and luxurious lifestyle, is not as easy as talking. Unlike the children of the wealthy who open businesses as a way to prove that their fortune is self-made, it is like gambling for those below them—one wrong move and it's a lifetime of fixing.

For the wealthy, change is never a need. They want what's best. The safety net beneath them is always ready to catch them if they fall.

Jean smiled at you instead of taking offense at what you said. “Thank you for the compliment. The truth is, the rent in the center of the city is a bit out of my reach, I'm afraid. I could never pay the amount required, you see.” She took white crepe paper and wrapped it around the flowers. “Besides, I can't possibly sell this flower shop. It's the only thing that my late father left behind.”

"That is very understandable," Diluc replied. "I'm sure your father would be proud that you're continuing the shop's legacy."

Jean smiled. "I hope so too." She said.

“I absolutely understand you. I also felt the same way when my Pomeranian died. I couldn't even throw away her last chew bone until today."

Jean paused for a moment from arranging the bouquet, and Diluc felt a surge of irritation wash over him as soon as he heard your words. How insensitive. He stares at you in disbelief after you compare Jean's father's passing to the death of your pet. Even if he knows full well that you don't mean any harm and that it's just one of the results of your privileged environment, that doesn't make it any less disrespectful. However, he bit his tongue to refrain from commenting on your statement.

"Right..." Jean straightened her back, finished with her work. She approached you with your bouquet of flowers. "Here you go. I put together something quick, but I hope you like it."

You took the bouquet of flowers with a wide smile, your flushed cheeks lifting as you took in every detail. It is not the most expensive, nor is it of the best quality; however, this will become your favorite because you bought it with Diluc on the outskirts of the city after eating lunch with him. Your slender fingers caressed the white rose's soft petals. You gave the bouquet a tight yet kind embrace.

“It's beautiful.” You mumbled before looking up at Jean. “I love it. Thank you.”

Jean linked her hands in front. "It's my pleasure. I wish you both a happy marriage." The sincerity was clear in her voice as she smiled at the two of you.

Her words landed so beautifully in your ears, but for Diluc, they were like a punch to the gut. On the surface, his calm visage was merely a screen for the turbulent storm inside his heart. Everything, even the person who was meant to be his refuge from reality, reminds him of his upcoming marriage to you. Fate truly orchestrated an unforgiving play for him.

When Diluc handed over the money to pay for the bouquet, his fingers brushed Jean's. It ignited a spark that sent warmth through his chest, and his heart began to beat faster. There was a desire to feel the smoothness of her skin against his again; there's a flash of hope amidst this arranged, loveless match. However, all his fantasies evaporated and disappeared so quickly as soon as you put your hand back on his. His back was turned to Jean and her flower shop as he moved his feet in the direction of the car.

All the way home, you admire the bouquet of flowers and say how white roses are your favorite flower now. Diluc made a mental note of it, but even after he had driven you to your parents' estate, everything about Jean had remained indelible in his mind.

Only two weeks left. There were only two weeks left before he was truly tied to you—which everyone hoped would be forever. But the weight of his decisions and obligations had long since been set in stone, and that golden cage had imprisoned him more than anything else in this world. Dull gray was all he saw, and he had to walk past it like it was his favorite color.

The world of the rich. They wish for the things they will never possess, and the love they dream of.

"Señora, apologies, but we're about to close up the store for the night.”

The voice of the barista who approached you brought you back to the present, and you lifted your eyes from the fully written page of your journal. He smiled slightly; the dark circles under his eyes gave away his lack of sleep. With a slight nod and a smile of your own, you told him—in your less-than-perfect Spanish—that you would soon be leaving. Satisfied with your answer, he left you to clean up. When you glanced out the window, you noticed that the rain had stopped for who knows how long; you were more absorbed in writing than you thought.

Quickly, you gathered your belongings and took your tote bag to put your pens, lipstick, AirPods case, and cellphone charger. Before you put your journal in, once again, you sweep your eyes over your own handwriting. There you go. Your prologue has been written in black ink on yellow paper. The words you use aren't good enough, but there is still tomorrow to continue.

After double checking and making sure nothing was left behind, you got up from your chair and pushed open the door to exit onto the streets of Madrid.

(That girl inside me stays. If I'm not here for me, she will be there.)

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AUTHOR NOTES: "(That girl inside me stays. If I'm not here for me, she will be there.)" are lyrics from Messages From Her by Sabrina Claudio.

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