#Then one day Pink Pearl was just... GONE! and when she returned she was fully under the control of White.

[shibafro]

‘Long time no see, Pearly P!’ (God how long has it been since Ive posted doodles!??!) I recently binged SU future and the movie,and I was briefly OBSESSED with the thought of these two becoming best friends (again). They both worked so hard to keep Pink Diamond happy and entertained, only to end up broken and thrown away. Idk I just think they’d have a great time together. 

[supremeinlilac]

In dusty pink silk (NSFW ish)

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6469

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, mild language, bondage, dirty talk.

A/n: MEKENZIE!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! So originally I was going to gift you a different Billie fic I’m working on, which more aptly fits your request of the reader being ‘abolutely railed by Miss Howard’, but this one is more unique so that’s why this one’s for your birthday :))

Originally this was going to be a lot more nsfw than it actually turned out to be. Also it was going to be around 2k, but i mean, whoops :)

Billie had decided to treat you for your birthday, surprising you with a fancy car which pulled up to your house an hour after she’d texted you from her work demanding you dress yourself up for her, you could practically see her deep set smirk and playful quip of her brow when you read it. She’d been apologetic that morning, about having to work on your special day, promising to get off early and make it up to you between sleepy kisses and wandering hands.

You were happy enough to busy yourself while she was gone, treating yourself to a trip into town and a browse of yours and Billie’s favourite lingerie shops, wanting to surprise her that night. It was inevitable with Billie Dean that somewhere in her making up to you, you would end up stripped bare and clutching at the satin sheets of your bed while she nipped and sucked at delicate flesh.

The medium spoiled you dearly, peppering you with gifts and trips, loving to see you in clothes she’d bought you, or rather, liking much more to slowly peel them off you and be a massive tease about it. That was Billie all over. While dressing that night, you decided to play her game. It was your birthday after all, you deserved to have a little fun with your girlfriend, especially after she’d left you alone for the whole day.

The car had pulled up to your favourite restaurant and a suited man had taken your hand to guide you in; another thing that Billie liked, she loved to show you off and make a big thing about your dates. You secretly loved it, loved her possessiveness and that she’d make a big deal of anything that she’d be seen publicly doing with you. Be it a date or shopping or a red carpet event, Billie was sure to dress you up and spare no expense in making sure you enjoyed yourself.

The gentle music and low lighting in the restaurant was a soothing familiarity as you looked for your girlfriend at the tables. She spotted you and rose out of her seat, placing her glass back down before waiting for you to join her, arms extended towards you in an invitation to step into them. Billie wore her delicate dusty pink silk blouse that she knew was your favourite, with flowing black pants and her signature pearls. It was a staple Billie Dean Howard look, which never failed to make you stop still in stunned silence at her effortless grace.

She greeted you with a chaste kiss before holding your waist at arms length so she could scan your outfit, nodding in approval, eyes softening as she pulled you in for another kiss. You’d worn the navy dress that Billie had bought you back from a trip to New York last year you both loved. It had long laced sleeves and slightly layered skirt that would pick up in the wind, or when Billie would ask you to twirl for her whenever you wore it.

“You look gorgeous, darling.” She praised, cupping your jaw gently with her acrylic nails, thumb brushing over your cheek fondly as you blushed with her words. “Happy birthday.” You returned her compliments, pulling her into the booth behind you and settling yourself against the wall behind your back.

You sat next to each other in a cosy booth, facing the rest of the restaurant, like you always did when you came here, wanting to be closer than sitting opposite allowed. You both sat slightly twisted on the cushioned bench, angled towards the other so talking and being able to watch each other was easy, even sat like this.

Once you’d both ordered, you fell into comfortable conversation about your individual days, you telling Billie about being recognised in town, and her about where she’d been working. It had been the lost soul of a child she’d explained; too complicated of a case to be simply wrapped up in a single day.

The food arrived promptly, under silver platters that made you glance at Billie, amused at her theatrics; she’d clearly been planning this for a while. The waiter revealed your favourite dish before commenting about enjoying the food before he departed with a quick thanks from you both. Pecking Billie on the cheek, you lifted your glass up and motioned for her to do the same.

“Thank you for this, Billie, it’s perfect.” You chimed your glasses together and sipped at them, eyeing each other over the delicate rims. She smiled affectionately, nails drumming on the glass as she watched you eat.

“Well you deserve perfection, my gorgeous girl, nothing less. But don’t think that this is all I have planned for you tonight,” she quipped casually. Raising her brow, her tongue poked at the inside of her cheek as her lip curled into a smug grin as you coughed into your food, attempting to hide your flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

You weren’t going to let Billie get the upper hand, you knew she’d run with it if you let her, teasing you till you begged. You weren’t going to beg tonight, you’d decided. Clearing your throat and subtly glancing across the room to make sure the coast was clear, you turned towards your girlfriend, face excited as you spoke to drive her off your mischievous scent.

“Speaking of surprises, give me your hand. Close your eyes.”

“What are you-” she began to question, leaning back to try to see past your palm that was blocking her vision to what you were doing. You pouted at her protests, batting your eyelashes and looking up at her through them with the most innocent face you could muster before cracking into a smile and a laugh.

“Please Billie, for me?”

She huffed, shifting in her seat as she held out her open palms towards you and closed her eyes. You discreetly dipped your hand into your purse and removed the silk underwear that you had purposefully neglected to put on before leaving, before balling it up and placing it into Billie’s waiting palms. You closed her hands back around the panties before sitting back against the wall and finishing your drink quickly.

“You can open them.”

You’d made sure that her hands were hidden under the table so that no one would see when she opened her hands, but unfortunately for Billie, she brought them back above the table and uncurled them slowly. The sound that left her throat made you laugh behind your hands, a strangled yelp as she moved her hands back under the table as fast as she could upon seeing what was clasped in them.

You were the one smirking now, Billies cheeks flushed as she opened and closed her mouth, flustered at the dusty pink silk panties in her lap that she’d just presented to the restaurant. Running her fingers over the smooth material, laying them flat out on her lap while you watched, nonchalantly eating a forkful of your meal. Realisation finally hit her, eyes widening as she quickly bunched them back up and slipped them into her pocket, safe and out of sight.

“Are you-” Billie let out a low groan, eyes darting up to watch as a waiter approached the table. “Are you not wearing any-”

“Why don’t you touch me and find out?” You interrupted suggestively, voice low as you nodded, smiling to the waiter who was filling up your wine glass, keeping your face straight and unaffected. Normally Billie was the one who initiated and revelled in any sort of fooling around in public, you’d just decided to spur her on a bit tonight.

Her trembling hand found your knee, nails scratching at your skin in an attempt to gain back any type of control over the situation. To her surprise, you let your legs fall open immediately, a silent invitation. Usually she would have to coax them apart while you tried to remain calm and unaffected by her touch but not tonight. You knew that Billie had made it harder for herself tonight, ensuring that the wait staff never let your glass go unfilled and always be on watch for something you may need. This meant that you could steadily drain your glasses and make sure Billie never had the privacy she wanted while she had her hand up your dress.

Laughing politely at something a waitress was saying, you let your hand find Billies, guiding her fingers to slip under the fabric of your dress, slowly up the inside of the thigh; the whole time keeping up your conversation with the woman stood at the table. You could feel Billie’s eyes on the side of your face, narrowed and predatory, knowing that she couldn’t quite believe your boldness at the stunt you were pulling.

At the very first brush of her fingertips against your bare centre, Billie had pulled her hand back, face red as she continued to eat. You could see a thin sheen of sweat above her brow that glistened under the low glow of the booth, signalling that she was fully turned on but trying to mask it.

The rest of the meal was rushed, per Billie’s hushed and frantic request for you to hurry up so you could both leave. Paying compliments to the chef, you requested that he call a taxi for the pair of you but billie was already dragging you outside.

In the cool nights air, Billie was already pressing a cigarette between her lips, catching it tightly in her teeth and letting the whisps of her breath curl up between it as she exhaled. The flint of the lighter sparked harshly in the dark, the flame dancing in the breeze and you brought you hands silently to cup the end of the cigarette so she could light it. The whole exchange was silent, knowing what the other needed without needing to ask, it was simply why you and Billie worked.

“God you’re so hot like that,” she husked, dragging at the lit cigarette deeply and leaning back against brick. She let her head fall against the wall, eyes closed in thought before she quickly opened them and stared at you where you stood, fingers tugging at your sleeves to pull them over cold hands.

“I can’t wait to get you home and ruin you.” She spoke candidly, as if voicing a fleeting thought, before returning her head to rest against the wall and breathing out a trail of smoke which dissipated quickly as the furls raced each other like children into the sky.

You shuffled towards her, leaning your head on her shoulder and humming in agreement to her statement, you loved it when Billie got in a state in public, because she’d just continue to build and build and it would explode in throngs of excited dominance when you finally got back into some sort of privacy.

Pulling the panties back out of her pocket, she held them up under the lamp light, offering you her cigarette so she could use both hands to admire your new underwear. Her low moan rippled over the general hum of the city life, nailed fingers reaching to pull you close by your ass, a squeaked protest from your lips at her roughness.

“Are these new? You know how much I love you in this colour.”

At that moment the taxi rolled around the corner, bumping over the curve onto the sidewalk as you pulled away from your girlfriends touch. She took a final drag before putting the cigarette out against the brick and joining you in the back of the car, slurring her address slightly to the driver so you had to repeat it when he looked slightly confused.

Billie could barely keep her hands to herself in the back of the taxi, nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on your neck, wet vulgar sounds slipping from her mouth until you shushed her. You tried to protest, but she’d found your pulse point and began feverishly sucking a blooming bruise into your skin.

“Billie, babe. Just mhmm, 5 minutes, we’re nearly back.” Her hand kept finding its way back to your thigh, fingers brushing under material and forcing you to push her back. You noticed how the taxi drivers eyes kept darting to you both in the mirror, and you shot him a disgusted glare back when he met your eye as if to tell him to mind his own business.

***

The door lock clicked loudly when Billie kicked it closed behind her so she could frantically push you against the closest wall, mouth hot against your own and tongue pushed between teeth. You both moved further into the house, never breaking contact and stumbling over each others feet in your haste.

At one point, when the she was clawing at your dress as if trying to remove it, you’d collided with the corridor dresser and the jolt had sent a small ornament sprawling onto the floor with a clatter. The sound had made you both stop still and glance at the mess momentarily. It had only taken a single glance again at each other for you to erupts in peals of laughter as Billie went back to your neck, her kisses only interrupted by gasps of laughter. Against another wall, you felt Billie slip her thigh in between yours, instinctively grinding down on it in the haze of your arousal. She angled her leg upwards more, making you whimper helplessly against her lips, your hands on the wall and a nearby doorframe for support as your knees weakened under her expert touch.

You could feel your arousal sticky against your inner thigh as her leg moved within yours, and you could smell yourself in the air. Billie clearly noticed this too, pausing to smirk and make a teasing comment, hand dipping under the skirt of your dress to swipe two fingers up your thigh and pull back the glistening evidence to under your nose.

You’d taken this as an invitation to wrap your lips around them, tongue circling her digits and batting your eyes innocently up at Billie, who groaned, pushing herself down onto your leg. Releasing her fingers with a pop, you leant into another kiss, snaking and dancing your tongue flat against hers and allowing her to taste the sharpness of yourself that lingered. Another of the mediums throaty groans filled the silence, the sound eliciting a burst of heat in your stomach. The sounds Billie made never failed to make you throb with the distracting thrum of your heartbeat.

Billie laced her fingers with yours, pressing and pinning your hands against the wall above you as you dropped your head backwards to expose the tender flesh of your neck to the hunger of the older woman. She nipped below the curve of your jaw, teeth grazing and tongue soothing, inevitable marks that would have to be covered in the morning a stark contrast against the complexion of your flushed skin.

Hoisting you up against wall, hands roaming your butt after she let your hands slide down to her shoulders. She carried you into your bedroom, letting you kiss her while she looked where she stepped.

Hands above your head, Billie pulled your dress up and over, bunched in her hands as you wiggled around. “Quit that, no. Stay still goddamnit.” She frustrated, leaving the dress covering your eyes and dropping to leave trails of peppered kisses over your abdomen. You squealed above her, pulling at the dress until it freed and you were able to fling it hazardously across the room and bring your hands into her hair at your stomach.

Once you were bare before her, Billie gestured that you lie back against the pillows and watch her undress. It was something she enjoyed making you do, knowing that you ached to be the one peeling the clothes from her body, loving that she could deny you that and make you watch her strip painfully slowly.

Tonight she had no patience for the slow torturing display she usually showed, instead pulling her shoes and pants off without even making eye contact with you, not that you would complain.

In her haste, you watched almost in slow motion as Billie’s nails caught in the thin fabric of her blouse, the soft ripping sound and the way the silk catches and tears down the middle from a button hole. You let out a nervous chuckle, as you often did in uncomfortable situations, still giddy from the laughter in the hallway.

Billie mumbled strings of incoherent curse words, getting herself tangled in the fabric as she tried to get out of it, which only served to rip it further, and prompt more swearing. “Fuck, I- oh for fucks sake! I love this top.” Now out of the top, she held it to her mouth and screamed into the fabric. All at once you felt entirely too exposed and sexual while she stood before you having a literal tantrum. Your oversized sleeping T-shirt poked out from under your pillow and you tugged it free, pulling it over your head.

You could sense that the unexpected and sudden demise of that fucking blouse had turned Billie right off, and as much as you wanted to kiss her until she forgot about it and drag her into the bed with you, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore that ‘kicked puppy’ look that she now had, looking at the top clutched in her hands.

You edged off the bed and came up behind her, hands wrapping around her waist to meet on the flat of her stomach; your lips coming to press at the warm skin of her shoulder. She dropped the blouse with a sigh, swivelling in your embrace to face you as you rocked her comfortingly. You both fell into a slow swaying rhythm, her arms around your neck and chin on the top of your bowed head. She continued to stare at the blouse.

“Come here babe, lets just cuddle and watch a film, eh?” You took her hand again in your own, other easing her eyes away from the top that lay crumpled where she’d dropped it to look at you.

Nodding, Billie let you lead her to the bed, watching you lay against the pillows before you looked to her and she sunk into your arms. Nestling her head into your chest and inhaling your comfortable smell and fingers clutching your stomach, she tucked her hands under herself.

“I’m sorry for killing the mood.” She mumbled against the skin of your still hot chest, trying to lift her head to meet your eyes with her apologetic ones. You shushed her, not wanting to hear her apologies, you knew the sentimentality of that blouse. “Can we just sleep instead?”

You hummed gently in response, “of course we can”, fingers reaching to run your through her knotted hair. You picked up a book with your other hand so you could read while Billie listened to the gentle thrum of your heart. As much as you’d wanted to be intimate sexually with her on your birthday, this was almost better, having her laid against you, allowing the two of you to just be together. This was a different kind of intimacy, one which you never tired of.

“Happy birthday,” Billie breathed sleepily, adjusting herself so so was closer to you, nose pressed into your neck.

When you felt the rise and fall of her chest even out and slow against your stomach, you pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her hair, fingers continuing to brush through her hair and rake lazily up and down her arm.

The last thing you did was reach out with your foot to hook the sheets and bring them up to your hand so you could drape them messily over your entwined bodies, and gently removing Billies rings and necklace, placing them carefully on the nightstand.

***

The next morning Billie had to leave early, called in to deal with the child who was wrecking havoc in the old house she’d been in the day before. Before leaving, she’d picked up her blouse from the floor, holding it up to inspect the damage done the last night.

“Irreplaceable, this blouse.” She’d said, the upset barely hidden in her voice as she poked three fingers through the rip in the front.

“Can’t you just buy another one?” You asked, sympathetic pout on your face at the sight of her with the ruined top which you knew was her favourite.

“I could” she mused, bunching the material up in her fingers and bringing it up to her nose, “but I’ve had this one since before my show picked up. It holds a special place in my heart. I actually wore it in that murder house I told you about.”

You nodded, having been told all the stories about that house from Billie, and the people who inhabited it. She’d offered to take you, introduce you to the ghosts she’d befriended over the years but you’d shaken your head, you didn’t like to get yourself mixed up in the contents of her job.

Billie ruffled your hair slightly, which was still tussled from the activities of the previous night, where you sat in the bed with the sheets drawn up under your chin. She placed the ripped blouse on the chair by the door, before leaving you alone with a parting wave and smile. Hearing the door slam closed below you, you crawled off the bed to pick up the blouse and smell it just as your girlfriend had done minutes earlier.

***

Weeks later, and you were struggling to keep your excitement at bay; you had a surprise for Billie, but wanted to wait for the right time to give it to her. She’d been extremely busy over these past weeks, and the time had never felt right when she was so distracted by work, despite your growing and bubbling anticipation.

That very evening, Billie had come home extremely frustrated, she was quick to snap and her hair was tousled as if she’d been running her hands through it. At the dinner table she’d looked like she was about to cry when she recounted her day and how her producer had been moody and short tempered all day, bringing down your moral and mood as the filming session dragged on.

Her acrylics had tapped anxiously on the table when you’d gone to plate up the food, you presumed that the contents of her bad day meant she was being clingy and just wanted to be close to you. Your predictions were proved correct when you felt a pair of slender arms slip carefully around your waist from behind, and a chin rest in the crook of your neck when you plated up.

Her hand had been on your thigh the whole meal, insistent that she keep contact with you at all time, so you’d snaked your hand into hers and entwined your fingers. It had meant you had to then eat with your non-dominant hand, which was no easy feat; but for the appreciative smile on Billie’s face you ignored the mess you were making.

After eating, Billie mumbled something about going to the bathroom, and in that moment you decided that you would give her her present, to cheer her up, or if nothing else, to distract her from her horrendous day. Pressing a fleeting kiss to her knuckles, you let her traipse away and out of sight. Waiting for the familiar click of the bathroom door, you shovelled down the rest of your food and gathered the plates up and into the sink.

You slipped quietly away from the table in Billies brief absence, quickly changing into something more suitable under your clothes for what you had planned, before retrieving the small wrapped box from atop the wardrobe. You’d had to balance on a chair to reach it, almost loosing your balance in your haste and having to catch yourself on the wall to stop you from falling.

Returning into the kitchen where Billie was back, examining her nails at arms length on the table. She raised her head as you entered, opening her arms and gesturing for you to sit on her lap with a quick pat. Still keeping the gift concealed behind your back, you approached her and perched sideways on her thighs, so that you could see her face when you revealed the box.

You brought the package from behind you, offering it to her on an outstretched palm with an eager smile and bright eyes. With your other hand you pushed the hair that framed Billie’s face behind her ear and secured it with a clip from your own gently, so that you could see how her face softened and beamed at the present.

“Oh sugar, what have you got here?” She sounded genuinely surprised, taking the box from your fingers delicately and smiling at it before the smile suddenly faltered and she turned to you, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Wait, it’s not our anniversary is it? You know I’m so bad with dates.” She rambled, speaking quickly and you could tell she was gearing up to apologise for her forgetfulness, so you halted her fretting with a quick kiss to her temple. Shaking your head affectionately at her antics,

“Can’t a girl spoil her girlfriend without an ulterior motive?” You spoke, bringing your arms around her neck and hugging yourself into her. Your voice was shrouded in a hilt of arousal, barely masked as you breathed against the skin of her cheek, fingers resting on her shoulders which you playfully squeezed. Billie cocked her brow at you, picking up on your tone and joining in.

“Has been 2 years since I spoke to you at that party?” She teased, nudging her shoulder into yours softly. She was joking of course, although she didn’t doubt that you’d be able to recount the date nonetheless. You always did remember such tiny details that everyone else would overlook, but she loved you for it; how you always baked her cookies or made little keepsakes to commemorate tiny anniversaries.

Her fingers pulled deftly at the ribbon on the box, swiftly freeing it so she could begin to coax the lid slowly from the rest of the box. Under the delicate layer of tissue paper that you’d decided to put in as a last minute detail, Billie found two long dusty pink silk pieces of material, tied into knots leaving wrist sized gaps to show just what their intended use was.

She let out a small initial gasp at the sight of new things for her to use on you in the bedroom, eyes shining and lip pulling up into a smirk. While she ran her fingers over the material, you waited for the penny to drop in her mind, watching her stop in recognition and turn, eyes sparkling to you once again.

“Is this-”

“I know that nothing can replace that blouse, it was your favourite. I wanted to do something so that you could keep it and use it for… umm, other things” a blush swept over your cheeks and you hid yourself in the crook of Billie’s neck.

“Baby,” the medium fawned, softly drawing you out of hiding with a kiss to your hair and a hum of thanks at your thoughtfulness, “I love them.”

“How did- who made them?” Billie questioned, tentatively lifting one out of the box, running the material around one of her wrists as she would put on a watch. You brought your fingers nimbly down to the silk around her wrist, tying it neatly into a bow and watching as she extended her arm as you always saw her do to admire her new nails; this time to let the light of the kitchen lightly catch and shimmer off the material. It looked like the picture of Billie as a child, attending her high schools prom with her then boyfriend, dusty pink corsage hanging off her wrist delicately.

“I called Enzo, you know Enzo… made your dress for your shows premier?” Billie nodded in recollection, she loved his work; she still got compliments on her dress from months ago, ironically, a faded pink flowing gown. “Anyway I asked him if he’d help me make them, and well, he showed me how and, well yeah.” Your voice bubbled off into silence as you took the other tie out of the box, teasingly wrapping it over her shoulders and allowing it to hang as you pulled her into kiss, lips parted in silent invitation.

Billie pulled back from the kiss with one last peck, eyes drawn back to the silk tie on her wrist and smile pulling at the corner of her lips again as she felt flattered and loved with how much thought and effort you’d put into the gift for her.

It was so original, so dirty, so very you of you to have thought to turn her best blouse into a sex toy.

“Thank you, you cutie. They’re perfect.”

Your eyes flicked down from her face to the beautiful curve of her jawline which you brought a hand up to cradle and thumb at slightly, to the swell of her breasts beneath the soft fabric of her dress. It was an action that didn’t go missed by Billie, who leant into you to pull your earlobe teasingly into her teeth.

“What are you thinking in that pretty little head of yours? Are you being dirty baby? Are you thinking about my boobs?” You squirmed in her lap, heat rising in your chest and dropping into your stomach at her words.

“Are you thinking of my fingers inside of you; don’t think I don’t see you staring baby girl.” She husked, licking a stripe up the shell of your ear and finding the dip of your waist in strong fingers, squeezing as if to make a point. You moaned breathily, arching into her touch and trying to catch the breath that she’d stolen from you.

“Do you-” you stopped, biting your lip and blinking at her when her hands dropped to pull at your ass, dragging you further into her and against her thigh as she did.

“Use your words, don’t be embarrassed.” She cooed, voice light and mocking, she loved to tease you about how shy and flustered you’d get when having to tell her what you’d been thinking or what you wanted her to do to you.

Pulling her hand from your butt with yours, you raised the arm that had the silk tied at the wrist until it was positioned between your faces. “Do you want to use them now?” You asked, teeth pulling at your lower lip as you fought the urge to look away in embarrassment at your brash boldness, waiting for her response.

Reaching for her glass, Billie swigged the remainder of the whiskey before slamming the glass back heavily against the table and fisting her hand in your hair, pulling you into a fierce kiss in answer to your question. Her tongue was hot with the taste of the whiskey, infused with the smoke that she usually tasted of when you kissed her, and you whined against her mouth.

“Okay, come on then,” she coaxed, easing you off her lap so that she could stand and grasp you hand with her own, practically pulling you behind her towards the stairs. As you followed, you watched the way she’d glance back to you ever few seconds, catching your eye and flashing you an involuntary grin each time.

You loved the way Billie would hitch up her dress when she ran up the stairs, even though none of her dresses were long enough to be an actual trip hazard. It meant that you could see a slither of the exposed flesh of her thigh as she moved, teasing and inviting you to follow.

The bedroom was warm, cosy when you entered and Bille ran her hands against the smooth material of the bed, slowly and in a way that made you squirm even more. Watching her fingers stroke against the sheets while the other hand undid the top button of her dress made your mouth dry and you lick your lips in anticipation.

As always, you waited for her permission and instruction to take off your clothes and when she did you wasted no time. Almost tripping over your own feet taking your socks off had Billie laughing from where she was stood, where she was currently laying the silk on the foot of the bed ready for her to use.

She approached you, motioning with a single finger to turn around and if you weren’t so in a rush to be naked and squirming beneath her on the bed, you probably would have stared at the way her new nails looked when she slowly circled one finger to tell you to turn. She deftly pulled the zipper of your top down your spine, tapping your shoulder blade to indicate you could continue as she walked towards the mirror on the counter.

Once you’d stripped out of your clothes, leaving you in your pink silk lingerie set which always sent Billie frantic against you, you approached her, coy smile on your face as you watched her finish tying her hair up. You loved it when she’d bunch it up so it wouldn’t get in the way, because it always was so messy and you’d tease her about it endlessly.

“Look at my girl, matching with my new present.” She purred, palms smoothing up your arms and down the side of your ribs, scraping over the silk material of your bra.

Capturing your lips with her own, Billie wrapped the silk around your waist and used it to pull you effortlessly flush against her body, hands falling to your waist. You tangled your fingers in her hair at the nape of her neck, a strangled whine falling from her lips that you were pulling at her hair that she’d only just done.

“Do you want you your hand tied at your front or behind your back, baby girl?” Billie asked innocently, holding the silk ties up between your faces and running the fabric against your lower lip where she’d just bitten with her thumb.

“Behind my back, please” you breathed, pushing your face against hers, nuzzling into that comforting smell of cigarettes and smoke that always lingered on her clothes. She hummed, nodding as she turned you around and you felt her gathering your hands together in one of hers while the other brought the smooth material to bind them together.

“You like being face down, ass up on my bed, hm?” the medium husked as she tied the silk in quick knots, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear as she worked. Her words made your chest swell with colour, the heat dropping straight to your core and making you grind your hips backwards and into hers.

“Ah, ah, ah” she tutted, fingers snaking round to claw at your throat and to hold you at an angle which made touching her impossible, in spite of all your whining. Once satisfied that you wouldn’t try to touch, Billie guided you onto the bed face down with a soft flop, landing a small pat to your ass as if to exaggerate her point. She did this before quickly disappearing out of your line of sight, hands in her hair as she fixed the do that you’d pulled at in your arousal.

The silk was cool against the delicate skin of your wrists as you tested the bounds, finding that they were tight enough to restrain you while you lay relaxed; but with enough effort you could evade them. Smiling slightly, you allowed your cheek to rest on the pillow beneath you to wait for Billie to slowly and teasingly undress while you lay still.

Some nights Billie would tie your wrists tighter, she’d thrill in the way you squirmed against the sheets in protest knowing that you were completely at her mercy. On those nights she enjoyed the chase, enjoyed the sense of full control, and you were more than happy to give her that.

This night however, like many others, Billie loved to fuck you with the knowledge that you could quite easily free yourself if you chose. She loved knowing that it was the deep trust that you both shared that kept you in the silk ties instead of being forced, it was more meaningful and sensual to her. You would allow her to do almost anything, and the loose silk binding your wrists acted as a reminder of that.

“I love you.” You breathed, her hands coming to run up the exposed curve of your spine, goosebumps prickling in their wake as she brought her lips to the nape of your neck.

She hummed, trailing her nails down the skin of your arms so they left puffy pink lines in their wake. The crescent lines of teeth lay marked in your skin from where Billie Dean had sunk her mouth into your shoulder, soothing the heat of the area with a blow of cool air and a chaste kiss.

“Billie.” You choked out, eager for her hands to dip between your legs. She was getting you too worked up with her lips against your skin, for you to go much longer in this state of heightened anticipation. Your desperate plea had Billie pulling away from you entirely, a grumble falling from you with the lack of contact.

You could hear that she had sat back behind the line of your vision on her knees, and you could practically see the smirk that was undoubtably painted on her face at your neediness. You huffed impatiently when she didn’t reply, when your skin cooled from the lack of her touch.

Chancing a glance backwards over your shoulder, you caught the playful glint of lust in the whites of Billie’s eyes. She swatted at your butt, prompting you to face back away from her, waiting as she repositioned your body to her liking, so your chest still lay against the sheets and your knees propped your ass up in the air.

You felt her thumb graze over your clit, barely pressing against the silk of your panties. Despite the ghost of a touch, you jerked backwards into it, needily searching for friction against her fingers. You heard Billie cooing you, hushing your desperate whines and stilling your hips with a strong grip.

“Patience baby. Let me make up for your birthday, okay.”

taglist : @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @extraordinarilycelestrial​ @toujours-ensanglante​@mssallymckenna @okpaulson  @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark​ @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly​ @amethyst-bitch​​ @its-soph-xx ,,if you want to be added just send me an ask :))

[mrs-hatake]

here comes the bride: chapter one

pairings: levi x female!reader + minor zeke x female!reader.

genre: alternate universe, illegal car racing, suggestive themes, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers, slow burn, falling in love, eventual smut, heavy make out sessions, hurt/comfort & fluff.

Prologue

A/N: aaannnddd we're back!!apologize for the delay but I've been super busy with japanese and suffered from a writer's block but we're here now so it's all good!

a huuuuggee thank you for my tumblr friend @petrichor-writes for brainstorming and proof reading this chapter :(

trigger warning at the end for a traumatic reaction due to the loss of a loved one.

this fic can be found on ao3 under copycatshinobi

“I can’t believe she’s doing it at a hospital of all places.”

“I think it’s nice of her to be so considerate.”

“Still, I can’t believe she’s doing it here.”

Y/N ignores the hushed whispers as she gracefully makes her way to her mother’s private suite.

It’s not like she isn’t aware of what they were talking about. Everyone working at the hospital has gotten wind of the spontaneous wedding occurring today in one of their few V.I.P rooms. And, frankly, Y/N doesn’t blame them. It isn’t unheard of nor is it uncommon for people to get married at weddings but to arrive at the hospital in a wedding gown while her groom, the priest and her family are all waiting for her in her mother’s quarters.

If the roles were reversed and Y/N was working at the hospital while some rich heiress was going to get married, she would probably be gossiping with her colleagues as well. She might even feel empathetic towards the girl if she discovered the truth behind her marriage.

Y/N glances down at her wedding dress.

She is wearing a pearl white sweetheart cut wedding dress with tiny specks of diamond embedded into the bodice of the dress. The dress is maxi in length and hugs her snugly, accentuating all of her curves. The train of her wedding dress is held by one of the nurses attending to her mother so that it will not stain. Not that the hospital floors are dirty, this is one of the most prestigious and expensive hospitals money can admit you in, nothing but the best for mother, so it is unfathomable for it to be dirty. Nonetheless, it is still a hospital and anything could happen.

Her make-up is minimalistic yet simple and it highlights her natural beauty, making her pleasing to the eyes.

Outwardly, she appears calm, collected and elegant but her heart is beating erratically, badum badum badum it goes, louder than any drum heard in a rock song. Her palms are sweaty and if she releases the colorful bouquet, sweat stains will be seen on the wrapping.

She is shaking like a leaf threatening to fall on a windy autumn day. Her throat is so dry that she wouldn't feel hydrated if she chugged a whole gallon of water. She feels lightheaded, as if walking on clouds and her stomach churns with the threat of unleashing all of its contents of buttered toast and milk upon her beautiful dress.

Click, click, click, goes her high heels, in perfect harmony with her booming heart and they both stop when she reaches the door to room seven seven zero two.

Y/N closes her eyes and inhales shaky puffs of air with great difficulty. The comforting hand on her shoulder from the nurse accompanying her goes unnoticed by her as it does nothing to ease her nervousness. A fleeting thought goes through her mind, she could turn around and she would run, lungs on fire, to the safety of her bedroom and would magically travel back in time to when she was a child. Her mother is healthy and Y/N’s existence is unchained.

Badum, badum, badum, badum and the door handle is twisted downwards.

-

When Levi was informed by his father that he is to be wed to  the chairman’s oldest daughter and the heiress of Hoken, their partnering company for the past twenty five years, he felt conflicted.

Levi had been infatuated with Y/N since the day their fathers had introduced them to one another. The world around him melted, only Y/N appeared in the blank void he was floating in. She had a charming smile on her pink lips that made Levi’s ears heat up in embarrassment.

With time, he had noticed Y/N personality despite their brief interactions. She is polite, soft spoken yet confident and detrimental. She isn’t scared to back down from an argument yet never once did she seem rude with her eloquent vernacular.

Achingly, Levi is reminded of his mother back in her prime. When she ran Sicherheit , the insurance company his father is currently in charge of. He doesn’t remember much of his mother as she had been taken away from them in a tragic accident, what Levi does remember, is her fiery spirit whenever he had the opportunity to visit her at work. Though, unlike his mom, Y/N seemed tamer in comparison, kinder. However, that only peaked his interest in wanting to get to know her and see what she is truly like.

This is where Levi’s conundrum comes in. He wished he would form a relationship with Y/N through traditional practices; being friendly with each other, sharing contact information, going on dates until they slowly fall deeper and deeper in love, so deep it feels like they’re falling to the cold and dark abyss, though, it’s not cold and it’s not dark, for on the other side, is the most beautiful place they’d ever witness, a place built from their love.

However, after listening to his father’s explanation of this instantaneous wedding, Levi understands that he does not own the privilege to live out his fanciful daydreams. Levi must carry out the duties as the acting CEO of his retired father until he fully inherits the company through the merging of the two companies by marrying Y/N.  His heart bleeds for Y/N, he knows the chairman’s wife is a beloved woman who is cherished by her two daughters. And Levi is quite familiar with the pain of losing one’s own mother.

Still, regardless of the order of how they came to be, be it in the traditional route of them flirting, dating and then finally falling in love or skipping all of the steps, Levi can’t say that he isn’t pleased with this spontaneous wedding as he will be marrying Y/N, the woman he had been infatuated with for two years.

Y/N is ethereal, is what his brain screams at him as she steps into the private suite in nude colored six inch heels and a long wedding gown. Levi’s eyes are instantly drawn to her shoulder length hair which she has it in a semi-up hairdo; one half is pulled up and the second half cascades down her shoulder blades in elegant waves, two locks of hair framing her face giving it a more youthful appearance.

And as Y/N steps further into the room, her father hooks his arm with hers and leads her to where he is currently standing, right in front of the edge of her mother's bed, and Levi hears the chairman's wife choking back a sob and he really can’t blame her because he honestly feels the same way. After two years of yearning and pining after the woman of his dream, he is finally able to marry her.

Chairman Masamune parts with his daughter leaving a delicate, yet lingering kiss on her hand. And if Levi had been paying attention to the chairman instead of his breathtaking bride, he would’ve noticed the tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. The chairman returns to his place next to Tsukiko who is currently filming the private ceremony on a handheld Panasonic video camera with a wide stretched grin.

The two of them silently listened as the priest began the ceremony, Levi is certain that chairman Masamune’s wife is joyfully weeping as she is finally witness to her daughter’s wedding.

Levi’s heart is beating louder, drowning out all of his senses. Suddenly, it feels like everyone in the room has vanished, save for him and Y/N. The beeping of the monitor, the chairman’s wife’s tiny little sniffles, the whirring of the ventilators, all of them were gone.

Only when the priest had announced, “It’s time to recite your vows.” did Levi feel everyone around him teleported into their little universe.

When they are asked to recite their vows, the ever attentive Levi doesn’t miss Y/N’s despairing tone of voice, a battle she had terrifically lost before she could even put up a fight.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest announces and an electrical jolt brings Levi to life.

He glances at the priest, as if to confirm what he had just heard, and the man subtly nods his head in encouragement for him to proceed.

Levi doesn’t allow his anxiousness to show on his face as he lifts his hands with firm steadiness to unveil his bride. Though, he fails to hold in a gasp once Y/N’s beauty is fully revealed to him.

She has her gaze cast downwards, but when she hears his gasp, as if he were strangled by some deranged man demanding him for any valuable items he has on him, she lifts her gaze up and locks it with his.

And what Levi sees in those eyes that he had admired so dearly, is the reason he hears a sharp crack onto his erratically beating heart.

Y/N’s eyes are soulless, as if this is the last place she’d rather be in and Levi is the last human being she would rather marry, like their wedding is the last thing she wanted, and he wasn't wrong in making that assumption nor does Levi blame her.

But god does he wish she wanted him.

He is in a similar situation as her where he is forced to marry someone he is barely an acquaintance with, though, the glaring contrast between them is that he is in love with her and she isn’t in love with him.

Levi didn’t expect Y/N to possess enamor when she stood before him on their wedding day, however Levi hoped that she would appear a bit more bashful towards this whole ordeal. Though, he supposes one of the reasons he had fallen for her was her honesty.

Circumspect in his movement, like a predator trying not to scare off its prey, he leans in and does not overlook the way Y/N’s muscles tense up and her eyes shutting tight.

Pain plunges deep into his abdomen at the reaction, however, he does not blame her. He sees the way her eyelashes moisten, a silent prayer for him not to kiss her lips.

A soft coo could be heard from his left side, where Y/N’s mother is resting on the bed, as he plants his lips on her forehead in a gentle yet affectionate kiss, which he hopes conveys all the love he actually felt for her.

-

After the ceremony, Levi and Y/N made their way to their new apartment that chairman Masamune had gifted to the both of them.

The drive there was silent, eerily so, though it did not unnerve Levi. His attention is focused on the road as images of their little wedding replayed in his head. After Levi had kissed Y/N’s forehead, soft cheers erupted and Levi could’ve sworn chairman Masamune had been silently crying.

Tsukiko had bought a small wedding cake, only two tiers, with orange blossoms scattered here and there. Levi took a mental note to look up the meaning behind that particular flower that Y/N’s sister had chosen specifically for the both of them. Though, he has an inkling that it has something to do with love and prosperity.

They arrive at their apartment complex and Levi is aware how deafening Y/N’s silence was during the ride. He kept glancing at her from time to time, to make sure that she was okay, and he wasn’t surprised to see her blank expression still intact.

Even when he parks the car and kills the engine, Y/N is as quiet as a mouse.

“Do you...Need help?” Levi asks with a small voice - it felt odd to use his normal voice when his wife is in such a state of silence - and gestures to her train.

Y/N's pout deepens a bit and she shakes her head no, exiting the car with the train of her dress bunched up in her hands and she closes the car door  with her hip- a bit loudly and perhaps in irritation though Levi but said nothing quirking an eyebrow - and goes to wait for him at the lobby.

Their new home is on the eighth floor and lights were switched off when Levi unlocked the door, allowing his wife to access, without bothering to switch on the lights.

Levi holds back the sigh that’s threatening to break through and flicks the light switch. To both of their surprise, their apartment has already been furnished in a modern-esque design with a dash of color.

The living room is located at the end of the entrance hall on the right and when Levi rounds the corner, he sees Y/N hunched in front of the coffee table, where a bouquet of red roses is on the centre of the glass top, and is reading a card in her hand.

Levi contemplates coming up behind her to read the card, though, he instantly dismisses the thought when he remembers how invasive that would be of him.

He leaves her be for now and continues to explore his new home.

As Levi wanders around the apartment, Y/N glances down at the card in her hand and rereads it again, a heavy and anguished sigh silently escaping her lips.

Congratulations on your wedding, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t attend, i bet you looked gorgeous as always.

Your bags have been packed for your trip tomorrow. I’ll watch over your apartment while you’re gone.

Have fun!

With love,

Yukiko

Yukiko was Y/N’s nanny while growing up. She had been charged with her care for as long as Y/N could remember. Both her and her sister had their own nannies that watched over them while their parents were busy. Yukiko and Mei were like mothers to Y/N and her sister.

Her mother had informed her before her wedding day that nanny Yukiko would be staying in the same apartment complex as her and Levi, just one level below, and she will be taking care of their home during the day and will return to her own kids at night.

Placing the card on the glass table, Y/N sits up and guesses her way to her bedroom, dreading the night ahead.

The new home that Mr. Fujikawa has provided for them is luxurious but it has that oddly homey feel to it. As of now, his favorite place is the kitchen. He doesn’t know how to cook but the lavishness of it bubbles his blood with excitement, bringing a slight smile to his face as his head fills with images of him cooking his and Y/N’s meals.

He opens the fridge and it fuels the excitement within him even more as it is filled with all sorts of food and drinks. The cabinets are filled with colorful spices, plates and glasses in different shapes and sizes and some had coffee and an assortment of cereal. Levi scrunches his nose at the boxes of wheat and artificial honey flavor.

Levi easily spots the guest bathroom, glancing in, he is impressed by the size of it. It’s so big it has space for a shower stand, a bathtub,  a state of the art toilet and a porcelain sink with a very large mirror above. If this is the guest bathroom, he can’t imagine what the bathroom in the master bedroom would look like.

Overall, the apartment is spacious, furnished and most importantly; clean to Levi’s relief, though his inner germaphobe urges him to clean it himself as soon as he is able to. He subtly nods his head.

All that there is for him to see is the master bedroom and a guest room. He peeks his head into the guest bedroom and is satisfied by the sheer simplicity of it. Though, he takes note how bare the guest bedroom is and is conflicted by whether it being unfurnished is a good or a bad thing. On one hand, it’s good that it’s in such a state so that their guests could decorate it how they see fit. Yet on the other hand, it’s bad because what if they had an emergency where someone needed to stay and they didn’t have any blankets or pillows to give to them? Levi makes a mental note to purchase extra blankets, bed sheets and pillows to keep inside the closet for future reference.

Stepping out of the room, he almost runs into Y/N but he quickly steadies himself and gestures for her to go right ahead. He rubs his temple when she walks by, Levi had seriously underestimated the difficulties of a one sided love marriage. Well, it’s one sided to him as Y/N is mostly likely unaware of his true feelings. She probably believes that this whole marriage is loveless and is nothing but a business transaction, though that brings a deep frown to his face.

Levi refrains from sighing and follows after his wife… until he accidentally bumps into her. He ignores the annoyed look thrown his way and peers into whatever thing that has his wife standing in the middle of the doorway.

Ah yes, one bed.

Glancing at his wife, he doesn’t miss the way her shoulders are tense and apprehensiveness glimmers in her eyes.

Clearing his throat to bring attention to himself, Levi smoothly says, “I’ll take the couch until they furnish the guest bedroom.”

The way Y/N instantly relaxes, shoulders sagging, fills Levi with disappointment. He understands why Y/N feels uncomfortable sharing a bed with him, he is a stranger to her after all. Though, Levi had that glimmer of hope that maybe Y/N would be okay with performing the basics of marriage.

He brushes past her, he could practically feel Y/N’s eyes on him as he walked, her intense stare is burning him alive and it makes his skin crawl as he collects his nightwear that he had sent to the apartment as per Mr. Fujikawa’s instructions. This time, he silently sighs.

Once Levi leaves the bedroom and makes a beeline to the living room, Y/N let’s go of a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding. She closes the bedroom door and leans against it, head tilted backwards until the top of her head brushes against the wooden door.

She should feel guilty that her husband will be sleeping on the couch but since he was the one who offered it, then it’s not her problem.

So, why did she feel a sharp pain in her heart when she glanced at the empty bed?

-

The hotel they arrive at - after taking a two hour flight at nine am sharp - is small in size and is designed similarly to traditional Japanese houses with a genkan entrance hall and Shōji partitions, no doubt an ideal lodging for foreigners who romanticize Japan.

The soft thud of the tatami floors as the bellboy places their luggages is deafening.

It was eerily silent and Y/N briefly wonders if the young adolescent is aware of Y/N’s distaste in Levi and the fact that she isn’t quite satisfied with the marriage. She bets that he’s going to gossip about them in the staff room.

Y/N leaves the unpacking to Levi and heads straight to the window which overlooks the hilltop the hotel is built on. The red leaves of the forest below stretches for miles into the horizon. If they hadn’t driven  through that very forest in the minivan the hotel provided to pick them up from the airport, Y/N would’ve believed that the hotel was sailing through a sea of blood.

Rummaging through her purse for her phone, she snaps a couple of snapshots and sends it to the family group chat.

Instantly, she received a reply.

What a breathtaking view!!

Send us pictures of you and Levi!!

Read her mother’s messages, probably written and sent with the help of Tsukiko.

Withholding the urge to roll her eyes and sigh heavily, Y/N responds.

We’re a bit tired from our flight 😔 but i’ll make sure to send some pics later 😊

-

Levi and Y/N have their first lunch together as a married couple at the garden located behind the hotel. It is dangerously close to the cliff edge but there are railings for people’s safety and, honestly, the view is just breathtaking.

Their menu is the standard Japanese cuisine, it is quite expensive but considering their honeymoon expenses are paid by her father, the cost didn’t concern them.

Levi and Y/N are seated at the honeymoon table, under the shade of a large Rowan tree. The wind passing through the branches made the red leaves seem like they were murmuring.

Once the two had placed their order, their waiter politely smiles at them and asks, “May I take your picture?”

Y/N is going to refuse when Levi beats her to it and agrees. She would’ve thrown a nasty stare his way if the waiter wasn’t there.

The tall waiter holds Levi’s iPhone and angles it how he sees fit...only to frown and glance over the device, “Scootch a little bit closer, please.” He motions with his hand for the two to lean in.

Working a corporate job where Y/N had to meet countless clients everyday and hold meetings with several businessmen had taught her how to excel a fake, yet authentic, bright smile. She makes sure to fake a look of affection as she can feel Levi lean silently into her.

The camera clicks and the waiter coos for another picture because they looked absolutely adorable. “Put your arm around her and ma’am, please show me something. You’re too beautiful to have a closed lip smile.”

Y/N’s eye twitched at the requests of the waiter and she thought about complaining to the manager but she did as told and allowed for Levi to hover his arm over her shoulder. She is certain that he could sense the way her body tenses in response to his close vicinity but she ignores it.

Y/N isn’t doing it for appearance sake or to be considerate of Levi’s feelings, on the contrary, she doesn’t give a flying fuck what other people, especially Levi, would have to say about her. They could call her ungrateful for all she cares.

The only reason Y/N smiles into the camera, allows for Levi to be near him and pretend that the two are having a good time rather than the awkward atmosphere they’re in, is because of her mother.

Her mother who had given her the world on the palm of her calloused hands. Her mother had screaming matches with her father for her daughters. Her mother who had sacrificed so much for their future.

So, she slaps a smile on and poses for the camera.

“Gorgeous!” The camera man smiles after taking two more snaps and returns the phone to Levi. “You two make a lovely couple.”

The rest of their day goes about in a similar manner. Her mother had booked a trekking expedition with a group of tourists for their first day and they would constantly stop to take pictures. Y/N could feel the muscles in her cheek throb in pain for constantly stretching her lips for nearly five hours straight.

Seriously, she doesn’t understand why they had to take so many pictures and in so many places. They took ten at the temple hidden in the forest (She counted them herself), took a couple by the river (some with Levi), under the trees (Levi mostly took pictures of her which irritated Y/N but she couldn’t do anything about it as she is in a public space and going to jail is not worth it) and they eventually took a group photo at the end of their trek with Levi’s arm barely making contact around her waist.

She dreads to know what else her mother had planned for the two of them for the next three days, she groans.

Later that night, after the two had their dinner and Y/N sent all sixty five images to her family group chat - that Levi is now a part of- -and her mother blows up her phone with messages of how cute they were together and how glad she is that they are having a good time, Y/N encounters a dilemma- scratch that, two dilemmas, that she had forgotten during her busy and exhausting day.

Dilemma number one is that her nightwear consists of flimsy and see-through babydolls in pinks, purples and baby blues.

Y/N closes her eyes, sighs heavily through her nose, and curses silently at Yukiko for packing her luggage. Of course she would pack something like this. She had been practically praying every night and day for Y/N to get married so it is only natural to let herself get carried away by whatever assistance she believes she’s delivering.

Irritated, Y/N grabs the purple one as it is the darkest shade and rushes to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Levi had gone to the lobby to take an important phone call and felt like she’d rather be flung over the cliff than have her...husband see her in such a ludicrous piece of attire. If you could even call it that.

The second dilemma is that since they are residing at a traditional Japanese hotel, they have to share the smallest tatami bed Y/N has ever seen.

Actually, the tatami bed is large and spacious but to Y/N who is going to be sharing her first night in the same bed with Levi, it feels like the bed is small and it will force her to press against Levi. She feels a shiver rush down her spine at the idea of having Levi holding her in her sleep.

She would’ve cried at how her life turned out, but Levi would notice and he would ask her questions. Something Y/N did not want, thank you very much.

Just as she slips under the covers, their door opens and in steps Levi, who pauses at the doorway when he notices the bed and lack of furniture in the room. He says nothing and makes his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Nearly half an hour later, which felt like mere seconds to Y/N, her heart thunders in her ears when Levi opens the bathroom door and stands at the edge of the bed.

She schools her expression, not allowing for any hint of nervousness to slip through. Though, her breath hitches and her heart won’t stop beating loudly.

And just as Levi sits on the edge of the so-called bed, Y/N swears that her heart stopped beating entirely and she feels like she's about to pass away.

“I know this makes you uncomfortable.” Levi starts and Y/N resists the urge to raise a single eyebrow in surprise. “I can call the front desk for an extra bed if you’d like but I doubt it would fit.”

Despite the two staying in the honeymoon suite, it is still a bit cramped. The only privilege is that they have their own private bathroom and onsen. Other than that, the room is nearly the same size as every other room in the hotel.

Which is why Y/N shakes her head, surprising both herself and Levi.

Levi instantly recovers from that moment of shock and nods his head. “Okay. I promise I won’t touch you.”

Y/N nods her head in return and watches as Levi switches the lamp, engulfing the room in complete darkness, and slips under the sheet.

He leaves enough space between them, enough to let Y/N feel comfortable, but also without having Levi to worry if he is going to fall over or not, the fall wouldn't be too much, but he'd rather not.

It takes them a while, both holding their breaths in anticipation for the unknown before they slip off to dreamland.

Their honeymoon vacation goes on in a similar manner. The two of them would eat breakfast, engage in whatever activity Mamiko had planned for them, take pictures together and send them to the group chat, and end the night by the two of them going to bed, without uttering goodnight.

It’s their last night at the hotel and the lovely couple would depart in the morning.

Y/N is spending her last night in the private onsen - an activity she regrets not engaging in much sooner as it would have helped soothe her aching muscles- and stares at the clear night sky.

She feels a bit disappointed as she was hoping she would see a sea of stars since she never had the privilege seeing them living in the city but not having any light pollution from towering buildings is still something she is grateful for, the pictures of the night sky in her camera roll attest to it.

A rush of air escapes her lips as she submerges her body deeper into the onsen until the water covers her mouth. Slowly, her eyes flutter shut at the tranquilizing atmosphere.

Y/N is so relaxed that she doesn’t hear their hotel room door unlocking and Levi shuffling into the room.

He briefly glances at the bed and is surprised to find it empty, the sheets still made. He stands outside of the bathroom door, leaning his ear against it and listens for any movements. When he hears none, he frowns.

What if she finally built up the courage to run away?

He thinks but then quickly dismiss the thought with a shake of his head.  

Just as he is about to call her, he spots the sliding doors which lead to the private onsen in his peripheral vision and pockets his phone.

He slides the door open, and somehow manages to stifle the slight gasp that was about to rip through his lips at the sight he is greeted with.

Y/N.

Naked.

And in the onsen.

Levi licks his lips, suddenly feeling them dry.

Y/N has her shoulder length hair in a messy bun, a few strands framing her exposed shoulder that is littered in moles and freckles, some big, some small, dark brown, light brown, they were endless.

There’s a tingling sensation in his fingers, overtaken with the urge to trace over every single mole on her body.

As if in a trance, Levi’s feet quietly move to the edge of the onsen, and he crouches down, hand stretched out ready for his fingers to lean in and poke the mole on her neck, when his phone buzzes in his back pocket and Y/N emits a terrified shriek.

She glances over her shoulder, and sighs in relief when she spots Levi standing behind her. Though, her relief quickly melts into anger and she hurries to turn around, back facing Levi, and undoes her bun to shield her exposed neck even a bit and wrap her arms around her frame.

“Pervert.” She enunciates loud and clear.

“I-I’m sorry.” Levi apologizes in vain.

When Y/N doesn’t respond, Levi rubs a hand down his mouth and chin and excuses himself to the lobby.

-

Y/N is angry. That much is clear.

She doesn’t take any more pictures the next day during breakfast before their departure, and doesn't even bother hiding her displeasure.

And Levi can’t really blame her.

He did step out of bounds the previous night. He broke what little trust Y/N had in him because he was consumed by a foreign and powerful spell, her skin called him like a siren and he ached to touch her.

He knows he deserves every glare thrown his way but Levi can’t help but to long for Y/N faking her joy during their short honeymoon where they pretended to be the happily married couple Levi had been fantasizing over since the day he had met her. It wasn’t true but at least it’s a thousand times better than how Y/N is currently treating him. Like dog shit she stepped on.

The second Levi and Y/N step foot into their apartment after a two hour plane ride and a thirty minute ride to their new home, Y/N rushes to her -their- room and is out of the front door faster than Levi could blink. He stares blankly at the door, sighs and plops on the couch with his head in his hands.

“Give her time.”

Startled, Levi lifts his head up and is met with an elderly woman that he had failed to see, too busy watching the angry storm that is Y/N.

“Who are you?” Levi asks, emotional exhaustion finally slipping into his tone of voice.

“Yukiko, Y/N's nanny.” She replies with a charming smile. She places the towel rag on the kitchen island and stares at Levi with kind eyes.

“Would you like some tea?”

-

The boiling anger inside of Y/N slowly cools down as she recklessly drives her way to the hospital. She is aware that she is being irrational with her anger, knows that as a couple they will have to see each other naked eventually, but she wishes it was a different situation. She sacrificed her own happiness for her mother and agreed to be in an arranged marriage.

She understands that Levi did not see much of her nakedness yet she still feels extremely uncomfortable with the idea of having a strange man laying his eyes upon her naked frame. She felt violated and scared that he would somehow lose himself to his animalistic nature and be consumed by lust and desire to take her then and there.

She knows that she is valid in what she is feeling and is having a rational reaction.

Y/N arrives at  the hospital parking lot and stares into the mirror to fix makeup that was ruined by the tears of frustration collecting at the corner of her eyes. When she is satisfied with her appearance, she smiles at her reflection and makes her way to her mother's private suite.

“Y/N!” Mamiko greets with as much joy as she could possibly muster. Even though she is extremely tired and Y/N can see the life slowly draining from her eyes, Mamiko won’t allow them to hinder optimistic spirit. She and Y/N know that she is a fighter and won’t give up so easily.

“Where is Levi?” Her mother asks when she fails to see her son-in-law.

“He’s home.” Y/N replies. “He’s feeling a little bit tired.”

Her mother’s lips forms into a silent ‘o’ and nods her head in understanding.

Y/N takes a seat next to her mothers hospital bed and holds her wrinkled hand in hers, her thumb running across her knuckles and asks, “How are you feeling today? I've missed you.”

The soft pitter patter of the rain outside is drowned by joyous laughter emitted by the two women in the hospital room.

Mamiko is in the middle of telling the story about how she nearly set the temple on fire on her wedding day because she was so nervous that she accidentally knocked over a lit candle and watched with horror as it rolled around until the hem of her aunt’s dress caught on fire, the plump woman was screaming loudly enough to be heard from miles away. Everyone had panicked and Mamiko just wanted to crawl into a hole and die in embarrassment.

No one was hurt as, luckily, someone was smart enough to put out the Fire.

“Mom, you're such a klutz!” Y/N  giggles. “How you manage to get this in life is a mystery I will never know.”.  

Mamiko wipes a single tear as nods her head in agreement. “Honestly I mostly winged everything. It is some miracle you and your sister have reached this age without any major injuries.”

This makes Y/N laugh harder, her stomach twisting in knots but in a good way.  She hasn’t laughed like this in a very long time and she misses her mother's stories.

Sadness threatened to rip the happiness from within her and nestle itself deep into her heart at the known future that is coming their way, a future where her mother is no longer in it. She is sure she would have been overcome by it had it not been for the nurse to knock on the door and open it to inform them that visiting hours are over.

Y/N leans in to kiss her mother's forehead and just as she leans back, her mother cups her cheek and caresses the smooth skin.

“You’ve made me so happy.” she says.

Y/N gazes into her mother's eyes, confusion clearly written in them. “What do you mean?  I didn't do anything.”

Her mother smiles that motherly smile and replies, “I got to live long enough to see you married and I hope I live even longer to see myself as a grandmother.”

Instantly, tears gather at the corner of her eyes and Y/N chokes back on a sob.

“You’re going to see it happen, I promise.”  She ignores the fact that she is lying to her mother but she can’t tell her the truth, that she is unhappy with her marriage to Levi. Can’t possibly imagine herself being sexually intimate with him and bless her with a beautiful child. She let her mother be blissfully ignorant.

“I love you.” Her mother sniffles in between sobs.

“I love you too.” Y/N shifts her face to the side and kisses mother's palm.

“Say hi to Levi for me.” Her mother smiles up at  her, “He's a good man, give him a chance.”

All that Y/N could offer in return is a small smile.

-

Y/N returns home to her apartment and spots Levi sleeping on the couch with his arm covering his eyes.

A small voice inside of the back of her head tells her that she wishes that Levi had stayed up to wait for her return yet another voice, a louder one, is glad that she doesn't have to see Levi awake; she did not want to deal with him after the events of the previous night.

Opening the fridge, Y/N notices a plate of rice and curry that is wrapped up for her to heat up, no doubt that nanny Yukiko had made for her.

She contemplates on having dinner but ultimately decides that she isn’t hungry enough, still angry about what happened with Levi and feels a cloud of melancholy looming over her after visiting her mother.  

She is happy that she had the chance to visit her mother after the honeymoon but seeing her mother weak and frail on the hospital bed ripped her heart into tiny little pieces.  Her once strong mother is now a shell of her former self and her beauty is a ghost in the past that can only be seen in pictures.

Y/N unlocks her phone and scrolls through the photo album until she finds the picture she is looking for; the one had taken on her wedding day where she was hugging her mother and kissing the top of her head.  She brings the phone closer to her lips and presses a long kiss.  

“Goodnight.'' She whispers. “I love you.”  

Come Morning, Levi is awoken by a loud scream.

He falls out of the couch, and bumps his head on the tile floor but when he hears that heart wrenching screaming coming from his wife’s room, he scampers to his feet and clumsily makes his way to their bedroom.

What he sees when he opens the door has his heart coming to a sudden stop.

Y/N is clutching a fist-full of her hair in both of her hands, tears rolling down and her face red as she continues to wail loudly at the top of her lungs.

Levi’s breathing quickens and his thoughts are clouded with confusion as he is unaware what he should be doing. Should he crouch next to her, gently un-fist her hands and hold her face in his hands and ask her what was wrong. Or does he remain by the door, wait for her to calm down and see if she would tell him what had happened.

Luckily, Y/N’s phone ringing made the choice for him.

He hears the melody of an upbeat song and follows the source of noise and finds the phone under the bed. He fishes it out and sees that Mr. Fujikawa is calling.

Glancing at the bed where his wife is still wailing, he answers her phone.

“Hello?” He greets, his voice shaky.

“Levi, is that you?” Mr. Fujikawa asks. Levi nods his head but remembers that the other man can’t see him so he gives a verbal response.

“Good. I was calling to ask how Y/N is fairing, but i think you also deserve to know. Listen, I'm not sure how to say this so I’ll be direct. Mamiko passed away early this morning.”

[lu-undy]

Chapter 62 - SBT

Here it is!

"Right, baby, I think we're ready." 

Mundy had put on his black three-piece suit and it had taken him an ungodly amount of time. He wanted everything to be perfect, and with his arm still in the cast, it was delicate. He shaved, arranged his hair and decided against using his hat. It didn't match with the very classy suit. 

"Pearl, come here, I need to dress you up too." 

The kitten came closer to the edge of the bed where she had been silently watching Mundy from. And that's when it struck him. She wasn't that baby tiny kitten anymore… It had been months between meeting Lucien and now; months during which Perle had grown up significantly. She wasn't an adult cat yet, but she was far from a kitten too. 

"Here, that's for your collar…" He removed the pink one and replaced it with the black one that Richard had made. Mundy delicately put the heart-shaped pendant with her name through it. "And that's the bow… Did I put it correctly? Does it itch or hurt or anythin'?"

Perle sat up proudly. 

"Meow." 

"Alright, good, come to me, baby." 

Mundy stood his back against the ladder that led to the bed and Perle elegantly went from the bed to his shoulder. 

"Good girl. Now, we'd better get goin'." 

Mundy took the bus to the cemetery that Maurice had mentioned over lunch that day. The other passengers gave him some odd looks. Mundy was impeccably dressed and his hair was neatly arranged. Even his cat's accessories matched his clothes…! 

He got off the bus and when he passed the wrought-iron gates, shivers ran through his body. He frowned and walked deeper in, on the old stone pavement. 

"Holy…" 

He soon saw a horde of people surrounding a priest and one head stood up and out of the crowd. It was Maurice's. Mundy passed the crowd and went to him. As he did so, he saw the children that Maurice was taking care of, he recognised some beggars and even the Doc' was there. As promised, Richard and his family had come, as well as Eddy, curiously enough. The rest of the crowd consisted of people that Mundy did not know or recognise but they all dressed for the occasion, either all in black or in dark blue military uniform with medals hanging from their chests. 

"Mundy." Maurice greeted him. 

"Who are these people?" He asked straight away. 

"People who knew who L was. On the day that the accident happened, I was there to confirm that both Duchemin and L… passed. And these people you see, these all knew him either by name or by reputation. Some even served with him during the war." 

"Crikey… They all came from-?"

"Oui. They jumped in a plane from France and answered the call that I didn't even have to make. The news of L's passing does not need any courier to spread." Maurice answered. 

Mundy's eyes went around and finally fell on what was in front of him, on the grass, next to a wide hole that matched the box's dimensions. The casket.

"Ladies and gentlemen…" The old priest interrupted. "We gather here today to celebrate the life of Lucien de Beauregard, who has now returned to his home with Our God, The Father."

Mundy's eyes snapped wide. That was Lucien's full name and he had never asked him. He had never thought about it.

The priest went on with a sermon and a prayer that Mundy did not fully hear. His eyes were stuck on the box not far from his feet. And what his mind imagined inside tore him apart. He bit his lip to stop himself and tried to pay attention to what the priest said, to distract himself from his own train of thought. 

But Gosh… Even something as simple as his full name, Mundy didn't know. And yet, Lucien wanted to be buried here in Australia, by his side….?! How wild was that! They had only known each other for a few months and yet Lucien had completely centered his life around Mundy, his life and his after-life. 

The priest went on and on with words, Jesus, God, the Holy Spirit and all of it.

"I was informed that some of you would like to play a song?" The old church man said. 

"Yes." 

A crew of musicians pushed through the crowd and Mundy recognised them. 

"Hello everyone, uhm, I'm Andy, my friends here and I didn't know much about Lulu but… He gave us our passion for music back and… We wanted to pay a tribute to him, modestly, with the first piece he asked us to play." Andy looked at the casket. "Lulu, we will miss your voice."

He turned to the musicians and when he raised his hand, the violins started. The brass section was added little by little, as Mundy put a hand on his mouth to cover his shock. He recognised the melody even if the velvet voice and poetic lyrics were silent. 

It was La Solitude. 

Mundy heard it though, in his head, Lucien's voice, the voice he fell in love with, the elegance, the charm, the refinement; qualities that were so foreign to him but suited Lucien like his very gloves. And the tears started to stream as Mundy realised that she would be back now, the Solitude. Bugger, no, not again… 

The musicians did their best and some of them couldn't hold back their tears either. When they finished, no one applauded but all nodded respectfully. 

"Anyone else would like to add a word?" The priest asked. 

Mundy wiped his tears with the back of his hand and when he raised his head, a forest of hands had risen. The priest let everyone talk. 

That old military man related a story that involved Lucien saving him, that other one told everyone how Lucien helped him secure a strategic place, even though he wasn't part of the mission… The tales of war went on and on from all those people wearing a képi and a dark blue uniform. Their stories confirmed what Mundy had heard from Richard and Maurice: Lucien was an exceptional man, a man who did not hesitate to help, putting his own life at risk to try and make it better for others. He wasn't all arrogance and if he was, it was only a cover, to hide a generosity that very few people could understand. 

"Anyone else?" 

"Yes, please." 

"Bastian…?" 

The young man took a step and looked down at the casket. 

"L, you… You encouraged me to work hard for what I want and uh… You've always been there for me, leaving gigantic tips… You helped me pay a new pair of shoes, you helped me get a haircut, you gave me advice, you gave me hope… I should have told you earlier, it's a bit late now but uh… They took me in the kitchen of the hotel, as an apprentice. They'll teach me and hopefully I'll be able to become a chef cook. I… Thank you so much…" Bastien wiped the tears on his cheeks. 

"And thank you, old man." To Mundy's surprise, Victoria stepped out of the crowd, holding hands with a man. "Thank you for your company, your lunches, the Spanish lessons, the advice with… everything. It's thanks to you that I found my… Well, my fiancé, and… I intended to invite you to the wedding, whenever that would be. Anyway, thank you for being the dad I'd have loved to have." 

Mundy's jaw dropped. He knew Bastien and Victoria but he had no idea about Bastien's dream to become a cook, or Victoria's Spanish lessons, or even her boyfriend…! And to think that when he had first met him, Mundy thought that Lucien was one of those like Johnson: too much money, nothing in his heart. But he turned out to be the one exception to the rule, just like for anything else. 

"Thank you, my child." The priest answered. He scanned the crowd. "You… Is there anything you would add? I see you are deeply troubled."

Mundy raised his eyes and it was to him that the church man was talking.

"I can't…" He sobbed. "I-I'd love to, but I can't…"

Mundy didn't see it but Maurice gestured to the priest. 

"You may speak freely. Tell us and tell him what troubles you." 

Mundy wiped his face with the back of his sleeve as Maurice put a hand on his shoulder to encourage him.

"He… He was everythin' to me… He came to my life like a gift from God himself. He… He was the best friend I'd ever had and I knew him only for a few months. I trusted him with my life, I… Lu'... Why did you have to go… I… I love you." 

Mundy hid his face in his hands as Perle brushed herself against him. 

The casket was slowly lowered to the ground and Mundy could not bear to see it. His eyes caught a glimpse of it and his knees gave up. Victoria went to him and crouched down, brushing his back gently. He sobbed and sobbed, covering his face in shame as little by little, the casket got covered by more and more dirt. 

"... Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

When Mundy removed his hands from his face, he had cried enough for his eyes to burn so much that he could hardly open them. He found himself sitting on the ground in front of a tombstone with the name of the man his heart beat for. Perle was lying down in front of the tombstone and crying too. 

"I'm sorry, baby cat… I'm so sorry… I didn't want that, I didn't want any of it, I… I thought we'd make it, I genuinely did…" 

The sobs went on and Mundy didn't realise that the crowd had gone and he was left alone to grieve. 

"Fuck me, fuck all of me, I'm just going from one loss to the next, I hate it! Why does it have to be like this? Does it really need to be like this? And what am I gonna lose next? You, baby cat? My van? My r-oh…" 

Mundy's eyes snapped wide and the rage boiling inside him made it out. 

"FUCK IT!"

He grabbed Perle and ran back to Maurice's street and his van. Once he got there, he slipped in and started the engine. He floored it. It was hard to drive with one arm but compared to losing his reason to live, it was nothing. 

"Meow?" Perle asked from Lucien's seat. 

"We got some cleanin' to do, baby cat, and the sooner we do it, the better…!" 

Mundy raced out of town and into the desert. He drove for long hours during which the shadows of the few cacti and boulders there stretched longer and longer on the orange and dry ground. 

"Meow…" 

Perle laid down on the seat and was staring at her Dad. He was frowning, his jaw was clenched hard and he was almost not breathing. His heartbeat was fast and suddenly his body temperature soared and more water flowed out of his eyes. He cried again and Perle understood it now. They had said goodbye to Papa and Dad was very sad about it. But it would be fine, Dad was strong and Perle wasn't a kitten anymore, she could defend them if needs be! 

Still, Dad was crying long and hot tears. His eyes were red and his breath was completely erratic. 

"Meow…" 

Perle hopped from her seat to her Dad's and sat on his lap, curled in a warm ball of fur. Dad rolled down the window and meowed louder and louder at… at the road? He meowed loud at no one, certainly not at Perle, she hadn't done anything wrong. Her ears slowly moved down and she laid her head down. 

Poor Dad… He was as mad as she was before she found Papa. In that state, he would no doubt hiss, bite and scratch anyone who would dare approach him. Of course Perle was distraught to lose her Papa, she loved him more than anyone and anything else. He had saved her, fed her, sheltered her, raised her, even loved her… Papa used to give the best kisses, those that make a funny noise, and he always smelt so good...

Oh, Dad stopped the van. 

"You can stay in the van, if you want, Pearl." 

"Meow." She stood up on her back legs and put her paws on his chest. Mundy looked down and hugged her. She had grown up so fast, that kitty. Now when she stood up, her head reached below his jaw.

"Right, c'mere then, big lady." 

He put her on his shoulder and exited the driver's seat to go at the back. Perle looked around them but here was no one and nothing. No streets, no buildings, no nothing. 

Dad went in through the back door and he retrieved a big metal box. He opened it and it contained a lot of shiny things inside. Perle had never seen those things before. As Dad was crouched down, she hopped off of his shoulder and into the box. 

"Meow?"

"Don't get in there, kitty cat. It's ugly." He took her out and turned to get his blowgun and a few other things lying around in the van. He took all the big knives out of the wall and his eyes and his entire body stopped sharp. 

"What the…?" 

As he removed the kukris from the wall, Mundy realised that one of the pictures that was stuck there was gone. The picture of him and his parents, the most recent one..!

He looked down at the floor. Maybe the old sticky tape gave up and it fell, but no. He couldn't see it anywhere.

"Bloody hell, problems never come alone…"

He decided to not worry about it just now and focus on what he had come here to do instead. When he turned to toss the big knives in the box again, Perle was sitting back in the large box. 

"Meow?" 

"Get out, Pearl. I don't have time to play."

"Meow?"

He sighed and crouched down again. He gently carried her off of the box and put what he had in his hand in there. 

"Look, these are problems." 

"Meow?" She repeated. 

"Yeah, problems. People call them rifles, kukris, weapons. I call them problems."

"Meow?" 

"Because whenever I touch one, people end up dying. And this time it's… Bugger…" He shut his eyes and looked away. 

Dad closed the big box and pushed it out of the van. He then took the biggest spoon Perle had ever seen and took massive spoonfuls of the ground. He kept meowing loudly each time the big spoon hit the ground. And he went on and on forever such that Perle took a nap on the van's door step. When she woke up, it was dark outside and Dad was still hitting the spoon in the ground and meowing. But this time, he was quieter. The hole he dug was now so big that the box fitted in there. It pushed it in and then he put back all the dust and dirt he had moved away with the gigantic spoon. It took him ages because of his broken short leg. 

"Right…"

Dad ended up on his knees, pushing the dirt back to be flat, and the box had totally disappeared. 

"Meow…" 

Perle jumped down to the ground and brushed her fluff against Mundy. 

"Yeah. It's over, kitty cat. I won't do that stupid mistake ever again. I'd rather die now and alone rather that touch these cursed things, find someone and end up killin' them."

"Meow?" 

"My Dad was right, those things kill even when you don't pull the trigger." 

Mundy sat on the ground, under the moon. 

"Meow…" Perle stood up on her back legs and Mundy hugged her. 

That night, as for a lot of the nights that would follow, Mundy would hug Perle as though she was all he had left, because that was what it felt like. And the night came back to being a moment of doubt, of dread, of distress. Every twenty-four hours, the same anxiety would creep up on the Aussie. He spent his nights talking to Perle, crying sometimes, other times he would brush her growing fur or cut her claws. 

"Pearl?"

"Meow?"

"D'you miss your Papa?" 

She raised her lagoon blue eyes to Mundy and blinked slowly. 

"Meoow…" She meowed long and sad. 

"I miss him too."

She purred as that night, weeks after Lucien passed, Perle was laying on Mundy's chest. His arm had healed and he slid a hand under his head on the pillow as he scratched her with his other hand.

"You know what bothers me?"

"Meow." 

"There's so much stuff I wanted to do with him, but I never got the time." 

"Meow?" She asked. 

"What? I don't even know… But I could see us doin'... Stuff. Y'know stuff that people do, eat outside together, just walk around together. There's other stuff but uh… You're still young."

"Meow!" She protested. 

"I know, I know, now you're as fluffy as a cloud and you're one big kitty, but you're still our baby." 

She purred and offered more of her jaw and neck for Mundy to scratch as she closed her eyes. The Aussie sighed. 

"Thanks, kitty cat… I love you." 

He wrapped his arms tighter around her and fell asleep. Perle didn't fit in Lucien's jacket pocket anymore but they both needed it to sleep anyway.

[schism-au-blog]

Thorns on Display

For a moment, Gold thought that her hope of missing Rose had come true. She didn’t feel her sword clang against Rose’s shield. But there was still a strange resistance. Gold opened her eyes to see Rose’s face of shock in front of her.

Good thought Gold. I didn’t hurt her. However, that thought was quickly replaced by panic as Rose’s body disappeared, presumably leaving only her gem behind. Gold didn’t know. She couldn’t bear to look. She ran. And ran. She didn’t care where she was going as long as it was away.

It seemed Gold was the only one who couldn’t stand to look at Rose’s gem, however, as Bismuth, Garnet, and Snowflake all stood staring at it in shock before Pearl grabbed it and ran.

While Gold wasn’t the only Pearl running that day, she was the only one who didn’t know where she was headed. Pearl didn’t know why, but she knew that the Armory was the only place for Rose to recover. Maybe because it was the first place that held Bismuth’s gem. Maybe because it was the place that only she and Rose knew of. All she knew was that she had to make it to the warp. Once they got to the Kindergarten she’d have time to think.

“That wasn’t a Rose Quartz.” Garnet muttered. She felt so many conflicting emotions all at once. She felt hatred. Rose had so clearly put up a facade. Confusion. That gem shape- what could’ve it have been? -Except- No. It couldn’t be that. Sadness. Their leader had just been poofed in front of her and she’d done nothing to stop it. She felt too much and too deeply for one gem to handle.

Next thing she knew, she wasn’t one gem, but two. But they were together. And they felt alone. What were they fighting for, now? So they made their way off the battlefield, running hand in hand.

Silver cried out. “Gold!” but by the time she had processed all that had gone on, it was too late. Gold had already sprinted off to be by her thoughts.

Bismuth and Snowflake were frozen in place as the battle continued around them. Shouldn’t this be the end? Or the beginning? How? Why? What had just happened? Even though they had hoped to poof Rose, they just now realized that they never expected to actually do it. And now what? That wasn’t a Rose Quartz gem.

“Where is she?” asked Yellow. “We’ve held this off long enough.”

“But this is her speech,” said Blue. “It’s not like her to just not show up.”

“It isn’t?” asked Yellow?

“Well,” clarified Blue, “Not like her lately.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Yellow, “but whether this is like her or not isn’t the issue. We can’t go out there without her. This is her colony after all.”

Blue sighed. “I suppose we should send some gems to look for her and stall in the meantime.”

“Won’t that call attention to the fact she’s missing?” asked Yellow.

“No more than her not being here,” responded Blue, sharply.

“Yes,” said Yellow, “and with those new rebels roaming about, the last thing we need is gems wondering why she wasn’t here tonight.”

Blue nodded. “Pearl?”

“Yes, my Diamond?”

“Find Pink and get her here.”

“You too, Pearl,” Yellow said.

“Yes, my Diamond,” they responded in unison.

“I swear, if she doesn’t show up I will shatter her,” Yellow said.

Blue nodded. “I thought she was past this unacceptable behavior. But I suppose White was right, she will never be able to handle responsibility.”

“She wanted this for so long, and yet, the second she gets it it’s ‘There’s too many organics’ ‘We should stop colonization’ ‘I want to stop gem production on Earth.’”

Blue laughed. “You sound just like her.”

Yellow nodded. “Well, our gems are most likely getting impatient. Let us show them that we are here, and we can keep them safe.”

Blue sighed, “Yes, I suppose there is only so long we can wait.”

“You should look on the moon base and I’ll look in her palanquin,” Yellow Pearl said, as soon as they were comfortably far from the diamonds.

“But what if she’s not in either place?” Blue asked.

“There’s not a lot of places she could be hiding,” said Yellow. “This isn’t Homeworld.”

Blue nodded. “So we meet back here?”

“Yes,” said Yellow Pearl. “That way we don’t return to the Diamonds empty-handed, we return together, and neither of us is searching longer than necessary.”

“Alright,” said Blue Pearl. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t throw another tantrum.”

“How could you call anything a Diamond does a tantrum?” Yellow said. “The Diamonds are always graceful, and even if we don’t always fully understand their choices, we must treat them with utter respect.”

“Oh- I didn’t mean-”

“I know you didn’t,” said Yellow, “just watch your tongue. We are the Diamond’s Pearls. We need to set an example.”

“You’re right,” said Blue. “Good luck.”

Yellow nodded and stepped onto the warp. Blue followed.

Yellow pushed aside the pink curtain, hoping to see Pink sitting there, but instead, all she could see were five disorderly rose quartzes. “Hmm,” Yellow hummed judgmentally, “When’s the last time you saw Pink?”

“She’s rarely here nowadays,” offered the Rose with her gem on her cheek. “It’s probably been about a week now?”

“Hmm,” said Yellow Pearl. “Thank you for your time.”

“Is she okay?” Nose Rose asked.

“Of course she is!” insisted Hand Rose. “Nothing could harm Our Diamond!”

“It’s not a crime to be concerned,” said Nose Rose.

“Yellow Diamond simply wanted me to fetch her,” Yellow replied. “There is nothing wrong,” she half-lied.

“Sorry we couldn’t be more help,” said Cheek Rose.

“It is no matter,” said Yellow Pearl. “I will look elsewhere. Good day.”

Once she was outside the palanquin, she let herself grow concerned. Pink not in her palanquin for an entire week? Hopefully she was just attending to important matters in other places. She returned to the spot she’d agreed to meet Blue in, hoping that she had just been on the moon.

When she actually met up with Blue, however, that hope was quashed. “No luck?” Blue asked, similarly Pink-less.

Yellow shook her head. “Those broken quartzes Pink Diamond was keeping in her palanquin said she hasn’t been there for a week.”

“Well, at least that’s more information than I got,” Blue said. “Without authorization from My Diamond, I wouldn’t dream of checking the logs or using the holosphere to look for her.”

“Well,” said Yellow. “We did get authorization to look for her. I suppose that could fall under that…”

“I don’t know,” said Blue, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to touch her stuff.”

“Is it a better idea to wander around the entire colony, letting every gem on this barren planet know something’s up while taking our precious time?” Yellow asked. “I answer to Yellow Diamond, not Pink Diamond. And Yellow Diamond told me to find her. Besides, we haven’t been given orders not to touch it.”

Blue sighed. “I suppose it can’t do much harm to use the holosphere. You’re right, it will allow us to look more places without drawing attention to the fact that something is wrong.”

Yellow nodded. “Let’s check the kindergartens from the holosphere.”

Blue nodded. “While you’re doing that, I’ll check how long it’s been since someone’s logged on through the moon base’s terminal.”

Blue and Yellow exhausted every possible place to search. They tried the Sky Spire, the Sea Spire, the Reefs, the training grounds, and even the stage where she was supposed to be, in case she’d made it while they were searching.

“Nothing,” said Blue. “Unless you can think of somewhere else?”

“We could send a Neptunite to check the Zoo, the garden, and her room?” Yellow asked, “but it looked like the speech was almost over, so I don’t think that she’d get there in time, even if she was there. I’d rather allow the diamond’s superior judgement to determine this.”

“I suppose, then, we should report our lack of findings to our Diamonds,” said Blue. “I can’t imagine they’d be happy.”

“I wouldn’t be either,” said Yellow. “Let’s go now, so we aren’t missing when they’re done with Pink’s speech.”

Blue nodded.

Blue and Yellow Diamond had just finished speaking when Blue and Yellow Pearl approached.

“I see you have failed.” Blue Diamond said. “Where did you look?”

“We looked in her palanquin, the moon base, the Sea Spire, the Sky Spire, the kindergartens, the reefs, and even the training grounds, My Diamond,” said Blue Pearl. “We have searched everywhere she is known to be on this planet.”

“She wouldn’t have gone off-planet, would she?” asked Blue.

“It’s Pink,” said Yellow. “Who can predict her?”

“We can’t send our Pearls off-planet without us,” said Blue. “Should we send some gems to look or shall we go ourselves?”

“Our agates are competent enough to not let this colony fall,” said Yellow. “But all the same, it makes me uneasy to leave this colony unsupervised, especially with these rebels tramping around.”

“I will go. You stay here and make sure nothing happens,” said Blue.

Yellow nodded. “Make sure to check her zoo and the garden.”

“Of course,” said Blue, “it would make no sense for me to go all of the way home if she’s just in her zoo. I do hope she’s alright.”

“If she is, she has a lot to explain,” said Yellow. “What was she thinking? No, she doesn’t think-”

“Please, Yellow,” said Blue, “I’m getting worried about her.”

“She’ll be fine,” said Yellow. She sighed. “But I’ll refrain from being too mad at her until she gets back, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Yellow,” said Blue. “Well, I will leave at once. Come, Pearl.”

“Yes, My Diamond.”

Blue and Pearl travelled to the zoo. They were happily greeted by the agate in charge, but they left quickly after they learned Pink hadn’t been back since she retrieved the two additional Rose Quartzes they allowed her.

After the zoo, they visited Pink’s garden. The garden had fell into a state of disrepair. Blue nearly gave up upon seeing that alone, but she supposed she might as well talk to Pink’s spinel while she was here. Maybe the spinel would know of somewhere important to Pink that she wouldn’t think of. They used to be quite close, after all, she was made for Pink.

As Blue stepped off the ship, she took a closer look around. She’d have to give Pink a lesson about maintaining old projects and colonies. Even if she no longer used this place, there was no excuse for it to fall into such disrepair. Even the spinel looked worn. Blue curled her lip. Did she really have to talk to that?

She took a pause. This was for Pink. “When did you last see Pink?” she asked. At the very least, she could clear this as a place where Pink wasn’t.

“It’s been eight-hundred-thirty-seven years, four months, two weeks, three days, fourteen hours, sixteen minutes, and eleven seconds!” Spinel said cheerily.

“Pink really should take better care of her gems,” muttered Blue. "Right now," she said, more audibly, "Pink is playing a game of hide-and-seek with me, would you like me to help find her?" It wouldn't hurt to have this spinel helping her find Pink, plus this way she'd remember to scold Pink for the state of the garden once they found her.

"I'm already playing a game with Pink!" Spinel said.

"Oh?" asked Blue. "What kind of game?"

"She told me that it starts by standing still right here," Spinel explained. "Oh no! Am I losing by talking to you? Am I moving my mouth too much?"

"No, no no," said Blue. "The next step in the game is coming with me to find her." She couldn't help smiling at the gem, despite herself. She was undoubtedly charming.

Spinel grinned. "Ok!" Spinel, Blue and Pearl all went back onto the ship to search for Pink on Homeworld.

[artificialqueens]

Pretty in Pearls, Chapter 5 (Jankie) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 💄| previous chapters

A/N: hi! here's a short update but I still hope you enjoy it! thank you for reading it! <3

-5-

“Good evening, welcome to Lucky’s… I’m Jan, how can I help you?” She smiled brightly.

The flash of Crystal’s phone almost blinded her.

“Aw, look at you. First day of work!” The ginger cooed.

“They grow up so fast.” Jaida pretended she was crying.

Crystal was definitely crying.

“You guys…” Jan whispered. “I work here now… try to keep it cool… please?”

“How dare you? We always keep it cool.” Nicky crossed her arms on her chest.

“Aren’t we banned from that bar in the city?” Heidi asked.

“Technically, that wasn’t our fault…” The blonde mumbled.

Jan counted the people in the group; Widow and Gigi were there too, Widow was telling Gigi something but the girl was a bit too concentrated on certain ginger –she had said yes to their invitation in the blink of an eye when they told her Crystal was going to be there- Rosé and Lagoona would arrive after their rehearsal but still…

“Where’s Jackie?” Jan tiptoed, looking around.

“She had to close the copy room and told us she would meet us here.” Jaida explained.

“Oh… okay.” Jan displayed a new smile. “I’ll take you guys to your section.”

She walked the group to the booths and assigned them two tables next to each other –they were going to need a third table by the time the other girls arrived but for the moment, it would do- she distributed the menus and left them to check her other clients just like Denali had taught her earlier that day.

She had met some of her co-workers -there were other two waitresses working that night, Kandy and Olivia, Olivia was a sweetheart meanwhile Kandy was hilarious- and the day manager, Britta; for what it seemed, the night manager not being there was a recurring thing so Denali walked her carefully through every detail. She explained how the register worked, how to add tables and mark them as occupied or free, she also told Jan about the standards and rules with the diners, what to do, what not to do… and when she thought Jan was ready, she sent her to her first table ever.

“And don’t worry, if something goes wrong you can always say that you’re new and get away with it. I still do it sometimes.” Denali shrugged. “But I’m convinced you’ll do well.”

Jan did perfectly; she served two high school students who stopped by right after school. They ordered milkshakes and Jan was more than excited to prepare their drinks and deliver them while wearing a dazzling smile. They left a good tip for being teenagers so she took that as a good sign.

And obviously, her friends were going to drop by on her first day. She just hoped that Denali wouldn’t scold her in extension so she had asked them to behave… as much as they could.

Rosé and Lagoona walked in next.

“Look at you, baby!” Rosé celebrated her roommate. “Stunning!”

“Let me have a glance.” Lagoona gestured for her to twirl.

“Y’all…” Jan blushed but did as requested showing off her red and white striped uniform.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in a dress or a skirt.” The pink-haired girl noted. “I’m not counting the skorts you wore when we went bowling.”

“You didn’t want me to wear sweatpants to it.”

“Bitch…”

Jan had no proofs or doubts Rosé would have burned the skorts if she had the chance. She knew it was a questionable fashion choice but hey, they surely were comfy.

She also hoped she never told Nicky or Gigi about them.

“Everyone is here already… well, except for Jackie, she’s kind of running late.” Jan guided them toward the booths.

The other girls immediately cheered when the other two girls joined as if they hadn’t had lunch all together the day before.

“I’ll check on you in a minute.” She said before running to the table that was calling for her.

Rosé’s words echoed on the back of her head. She didn’t have anything against skirts or dresses only she had never consider buying one for herself. Other girls looked ethereal with them but Jan still had war flashbacks from that time she attempted to buy a dress for her graduation with her mom… it hadn’t gone well.

Plus, sports clothes always fit her and were practical.

Denali had offered both options –the candy cane striped dress and an alternative set of pants and a white shirt with an apron- but she had opted for the dress for some reason. She wanted to fit into that environment and copying the black-haired girl seemed the first step to it. Trying it on had been a bit weird; she almost didn’t recognize herself in the mirror but the more she looked at herself the more she liked it.

At that moment, Jackie arrived.

She was apologizing even before completely trespassing the door when she lifted her gaze and met Jan’s eyes.

“…and I’m sorry for…” She began losing her ability to speak as she got in a trance.

Seeing Jan always gave Jackie butterflies on her stomach –the good type of butterflies- and she wasn’t going to admit it to her friends not even in a million years because she wasn’t the kind of girl who believed in something as cheesy as butterflies but most importantly, she had promised herself she wasn’t going to fall for that again.

But there she was, with that smile that made all the other smiles in the world irrelevant.

Seeing Jan in a dress made her brain malfunction –not because of the dress itself but because the girl was glowing while wearing it.

Jackie wetted her lips, she had forgotten what she was going to say.

“So… what do you think?” She stretched the dress with her hands. “You can be fully honest.”

No, she couldn’t.

“You look… very happy.” The brunette made a great effort to reply. “You look nice.” This time the words came out a bit more articulated.

Jan smiled, satisfied with that answer. “C’mon, the girls are over here…” She started walking and Jackie followed her. “Don’t you love this place? It looks like it’s been ripped out of the fifties or something.”

For the first time, Jackie actually paid attention to the diner.

“Oh, that’s right… the aesthetic…”

“Hey girls, Jackie’s here!” She announced.

“Miss Cox!” Heidi yelled.

Suddenly the table turned in her direction; they created a fuss, full sentences or loose words were hardly able to comprehend but Jackie was used to it, she spoke the loud language better than anyone. She looked at Jan before sitting with the rest of the group and cracked a secret smile just for her then she rolled her eyes and got entangled in one epic story about the time a cat crashed in the dorms.

Jan cleared her throat and asked very nicely if she could bring them something to drink. She listed soft drinks, mostly cherry coke, regular coke, diet coke, Sprite, and an ice cream soda for Crystal. She walked behind the counter and pressed some buttons to make sure she got it all correct.

It took her a moment to understand the computer’s system for the tables as in the abstract but now that she had some practice with it, she was getting faster at it. She charged table eight and then added a new order of fries for table twelve and finally opened the bill for her friends.

Denali approached her at some point while she was juggling with a couple of trays.

“Hey, how’s it going?” The black-haired girl asked. “Are you okay handling that big group by yourself?” She typed some numbers and printed the receipt without blinking.

“Ah, yeah… Don’t worry, they are all my friends.” It was the first time she had said it aloud and it filled her with pride.

Denali looked at the table; it was a colorful ensemble of people that were having a blast. They were loud and they burst into laughter every couple of minutes. Jan spotted Widow covering her face with second-hand embarrassment while she was laughing underneath, Heidi cackling next to her, Nicky and Jaida holding hands but still participating in the debate, Rosé holding her stomach, Lagoona trying to add something but cracking up as soon as she started a sentence, Gigi with a blank stare trying to discover what she had said that was so funny, Crystal in an attempt to explain it to her –laughing still- and Jackie shaking her head, knowing the situation was irredeemable.

Those were her friends and it filled Jan’s chest with warmness to see them there on her first day of work.

“They came here to support you?”

Jan nodded.

“Aw, that’s so cute!” Denali beamed. “Let me know if I can help you with their order though.”

“I probably will… they already found out there are mozzarella sticks in the menu and when they say «bring mozzarella sticks» they mean all the mozzarella sticks.”

Denali chuckled. “Alright.”

Jan returned to the tables with the drinks and placed them carefully remembering who ordered what. Her friends ordered a ton of food and she had to write it down and register the order on the computer.

They were talking about Rosé and Lagoona’s latest news, they had started preparing the winter musical for a class but one of the girls that were taking part had to step out of the play.

“She said she didn’t want to brag but honestly, Sydney, who the fuck cares if you’re doing Hamilton now?” The blue-haired girl sighed. “Anyway, so we need to recruit someone else this month to play that part.”

“What’s the play about?” Widow asked.

“We’re honoring the one and only Lindsay Lohan and decided to adapt the fictional musical Eliza Rocks from Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen.” Rosé explained.

“So… Pygmalion?” Gigi frowned.

“No, no… well, yeah… It is Pygmalion but with a twist… a remake if you like.”

“So the Glee version of Pygmalion?” Heidi tried to connect the dots.

“There’s nothing new under the sun anyway.” Rosé gave up.

“We still have to, write the music and the script… but that’s the big project of the drama department.”

“We could help you with the costume design,” Nicky suggested. “That could be interesting.”

“I don’t know if-” Gigi whispered.

“I love all the theatrical stuff, can I help you?” Crystal volunteered.

“Alright, yeah… we’re helping with the costumes.” The other blonde corrected herself.

Jan shook her head and left them to discuss other details.

She was tapping the screen of the computer when Jackie sat on one of the stools of the bar.

“Look how the tables have turn… Literally.”

Jan giggled. “Right? The food will be ready in a second… I’m just finishing here.”

The brunette watched her work. “You know, that role on the play Rosé and Lagoona are putting together… you could do it.”

Jan stopped what she was doing and stared at Jackie. “What? Me?” She shook her head. “No, no… I just sing in the shower and when I’m alone… that’s it. I’m not a singer and I’m not an actress.”

“You could be one. Nobody was born knowing but you can learn. I’m sure they’d love to have you on their production.”

“Jackie, I don’t know… It’s really not my thing. Besides, they already have a lot of work to do, I don’t want to delay them even more.”

“It sounds to me that you would be doing them a favor. Just… think about it. This is the perfect time to try new things… maybe.”

“I won’t promise anything.”

“Alright.” Jackie stood up. “By the way, you should bring extra ketchup… talking from experience.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Jan delivered the food with Denali’s help as she had suggested and then let them enjoy it until it was her time to call it a day, hang her apron and change her dress.

“Great job today. You're a good new addition to our staff.” Denali congratulated her on the back of the restaurant.

“Thank you! I’m glad that you hired me.”

“Don’t even mention it. Now go have fun with your friends.” She winked at her and left Jan to collect her things.

She then saw with her friends and let a big sigh out of her chest.

“The first day is over…”

Her friends congratulated her as well and took turns to compliment her as if it was a Yelp review.

“Let’s make a toast for Jan’s new job!” Jaida raised her glass in the air.

“For Jan!” The table cheered in unison.

“Five out of five stars, excellent service.” Heidi qualified.

“Speaking of…” Rosé whispered just for Jan to listen. “Who is that girl that helped you earlier?”

“Denali? She’s basically my supervisor at this point and she hired me.”

“She’s cute… like… very cute.”

Jan had never seen Rosé blushing until that moment –not even when Heidi had dropped some of her –arguably- best pickup lines during one lunch.

“Oh, so you think she’s cute?”

“Do you know if she’s single?”

“I’ve worked here for a day or so…”

“More than enough time.”

“I can ask her later but she’s like my boss now, you have to promise me you’ll be chill.”

“Baby, have you seen the people around us? I’ll be the chilliest of them all.”

That wasn’t the most reassuring thing to say.

The second week, Jan was more used to her work but her teachers started setting deadlines, and with her baseball practices on top of everything else, she ended up being exhausted by the time her head touched the pillow.

After a long day, the only thing she wanted was to take a long hot shower and put on some pajamas. She walked into the hallway, yawning and carrying her little bathroom basket with shampoo, soap, and a towel.

She had followed Nicky’s advice and always wore flip-flops to the shower. The bathroom was covered in steam most of the time so the girls had to clean the mirrors to brush and dry their hair hoping to see their reflection.

Jan politely greeted two girls from the dorm and got in the shower before closing the curtain. She heard the door as the two girls left and with that, she was left alone. She turned on the shower and let the water cover her entirely to wash off all the stress of the day.

While shampooing, she unconsciously started humming some random song she had heard on the radio earlier in the diner. She closed her eyes and got under the shower when someone moved the curtain.

“I knew it!” Rosé yelled. She had her pink embroidered bathrobe on and her hair was dripping wet.

Jan screamed. “Rosé!” She covered her body with the plastic curtain. “Holy sh… You nearly gave me a heart attack… I thought we had agreed on no Pitch Perfect reenacts.” Her heart was beating faster than ever.

“I didn’t know it was the whole movie, I thought it was just the songs… you know, I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes-” She hummed.

“Rosé…” The shower’s water continued running. “Get out.”

“Okay fine.” The girl closed the curtain. “But I heard you before, you hum when you’re happy.”

“Yes? Like a normal person?” She said on the other side.

“No, no… you’re good. Why didn’t you tell me you were good?”

“Because I’m not a singer… I don’t sing like you or Lagoona.”

“But you could! This is great… I knew you were good.” She repeated.

“Wait a minute, were you waiting for me to come shower?”

“No bitch, I was exfoliating… I wasn’t stalking you.”

“Okay… sure… this definitely crosses some boundaries but okay…”

“Sorry about the curtain thing but hey, here’s a fun idea… you should drop by the auditorium tomorrow. We’re holding auditions this week and I’m just saying… you could be what we need.”

Jan finished showering and stepped out wrapped in her towel.

“Look… I’m flattered that you even consider me good but I’m not… musical theatre material, trust me.”

Rosé stared with supplicant eyes. “I know you can do it… but alright.” She raised her hands in the air in surrender.

She sighed. “Listen, Rosé, I’d love to help you but my plate is full right now… I wouldn’t be able to do it all.”

“Don’t worry… I won’t insist and I won’t bring the subject anymore just… please, consider it overnight. You don’t have to say no right away.”

“Fine… can I brush my hair in peace or is Lagoona going to jump out the sink and start a number about why I should sing?”

“We don’t have that budget but I’m sure she can improvise a song if that’s what it takes.”

“See you in the room and remember that you can’t bring this up again.”

“For someone who’s cheerful all the time you surely are picking traits from Miss Jackie Cox, aren’t you…?”

Jan blushed. “No, I’m not…”

The following day, Jan found herself roaming outside the auditorium for no particular reason.

Well, that was what she kept telling herself.

Because she wasn’t there for the auditions.

No.

Not at all.

She took a deep breath before walking in.

Luckily, most of the auditorium was empty except for the stage where most performers were still doing warm-up exercises and no one noticed the presence of the girl when she entered. Instead of standing still in the middle of the rows, she sat at the back and hid behind another seat hoping no one would spot her from there.

That was a mistake, she wasn’t supposed to be there.

She had told Rosé she would think about it but she chickened out the second she stepped in.

The rehearsal began and some of the members of the club started reading fragments of the play. It was really funny, Jan found herself holding back her laughter at some dialogues and performances. Lagoona played the piano and Rosé sang along with her and some other students joined for the chorus of the song.

It was mesmerizing to watch it from afar and maybe that was all she had to do. She could be supportive this way, without getting too involved.

“Now, what on Earth are you doing here?” The voice made her startled until she noticed it was Jackie who was now hiding next to her.

“Shhhh… keep it quiet. They don’t know I’m here… wait, why are you here?”

Jackie was so close, Jan could smell the green apple notes of her perfume.

“After my shift ended, I went to the administration office to talk with the dean and when I left I saw you walking in.” She explained.

“Ah… well, I’m leaving already so…”

“Please, don’t mind me.” The brunette assured. “So, what really brings you here?”

“Rosé is trying to get all Pitch Perfect and recruit me for this. She heard me sing in the showers.”

“Understandable. I’d call it the troyboltonification of Jan.”

“I’m not… I won’t get troyboltonificated. I’m here just to… take a look… That’s it.”

“Aha, sure.” She didn’t sound convinced. “What is holding you back from this? Obviously, you want it.”

Jan lowered her gaze. “Back in high school… I secretly wanted to participate in the drama club but the rehearsals were at the same time as my baseball practices and well… I always picked baseball over it because that’s what I’m good at it… plus it was an excuse to hang out with Nathan after the practice.”

“I see…” Jackie mumbled.

“Besides, I didn’t think I have what it takes… yes I can hit a couple of notes but that…” She pointed at the stage. “What they do there is art.”

“Listen… you’re not in high school anymore. It might be difficult to juggle the extracurricular activities with your studies and work but… if you want this, you should give it a try.” Jackie said candidly, her eyes reflected the sincerity of her words. “If it’s not for you, at least you can say you tried it.”

“Do you really think I could do it? I mean, being in front of a stage like them?”

“I’m certain about it. Some people might be born with it but I’m sure they had to practice a lot anyway and they probably failed more than once before they could get better. It is easier to say it than doing it but you’re a spitfire, if you put your mind to it you can do anything.”

She smiled even though they were in the darkest place of the auditorium.

“Thank you, Jackie. I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you, seriously.”

“Whenever you need it.” She smiled back.

Then, Jan stepped out and walked down toward where the stage was.

“Hi!” She approached shyly the people there, Lagoona stopped playing and Rosé was more than happy to see her. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys but I was told you have a vacancy for a role…”

The pink-haired girl jumped out of the stage. “Fellas, this is Jan… she’s my roommate and she has a great voice. I think we could use her talent here.”

They welcomed her warmly, introducing the team.

Jan turned around before going on stage and Jackie gave her a thumbs up.

“Break a leg.” She murmured even when the younger couldn’t hear her from there.

[prettywordsyouleft]

How To Love

Summary: Brian hoped taking you out on a date would help you both connect more like most couples did. Except, with him being a ghost, going on a date proves to be harder than either of you anticipated.

Pairing: Brian Kang x reader (ft. Day6)

World: Spiritual Connection (masterlist HERE)

Genre: ghost au / angst-fluff / valentines au

Warnings: none

A/N: Happy Valentines to everyone who celebrates it! As promised at Christmas, we are returning to our beloved manor house to see how the ghosts are doing. I did want to write about them all but it appears Brian was a little needy this time around so he got a story all to himself! I hope you enjoy it.

For those new to this world, this story’s context won’t make any sense without reading the previous stories before this. They are linked in the masterlist shared above.

Word count: 6292

Placing down the book he had just completed, Brian let out his umpteenth sigh for the day. It wasn’t the book’s fault. He had read this story many times over his years of existence and usually it held his attention well.

Tonight, however, Brian was too distracted to let the words fully infiltrate his mind, his thoughts wandering towards the dilemma he was faced with.

Things at the seaside manor had been going well. In fact, business hadn’t been better. Although it hadn’t been long since Christmas break, as soon as the doors reopened, guests would come and go every week in larger volumes than before. And whilst Brian was thrilled that your bed and breakfast venture had really taken off, it had some disadvantages.

Since you were spending your Saturday evening entertaining your guests whilst he was stuck in the study alone.

Glancing down at the love story he had been attempting to read, Brian lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. For someone who didn’t feel the same as he had when he was alive, he could still sense the weariness within his soul. He was tired of all of the distinctions between you and him, and reading about a love that held different worries than he had couldn’t ease his mind or heart.

Brian craved something more tangible to his existence. Since his death, over a century had passed by. And during that time, he hadn’t really questioned a lot about anything. Sure, he had his profound moments, inspired to write his feelings down in poetry. But that was it. He had accepted his time and place in this realm. Yet, just because he was dead, didn’t mean his emotions had died off.

Had that happened, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.

And it was due to the intensity of such emotions that everything felt insufferable right now.

“Here you are!” a voice called and it perked him instantly, despite it being more masculine than your tone. Turning to look in Dowoon’s direction, Brian gave his friend a curious look. “I should have known to find you inside of a book!”

“What’s up?”

“Sungjin and I are going to go walk Custard down the beach. You keen?”

Smiling lightly, Brian thought how peaceful that would be. Custard was Dowoon’s pride and joy, a dog you had got for his friend for Christmas. Brian was certain Dowoon loved his canine friend more than anyone else in this house. Custard was all too eager to spend every moment – awake or asleep – with Dowoon too.

Now I’m jealous of a dog, Brian lamented, shaking his head softly. Whilst the thought of stretching his legs and attempting to take in the salty air of the sea did sound enticing, he could already see who he wanted to do that with.

And it wasn’t Dowoon, Custard or Sungjin, sadly.

“Maybe another time.”

“Alright, suit yourself! Ah, if you get peckish, Sarah has made her infamous brownie for the house guests and served up the edges on a plate in the kitchen.”

Brian chuckled. “Peckish? Us dead folk don’t need to eat.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t a nice concept now and then,” the tall man suggested with a shrug, giving Brian a final look before departing the room.

He contemplated the idea. Brian’s thoughts shifted back to the first time he shared a drink with you when you moved into the manor house as an adult. No longer were you simply the child who grew up in this house each summer when visiting Pearl, your grandmother. You had arrived and stirred a lot more than the dust and bric-a-brac left behind with her passing. Brian found himself smiling at the many times after you had both shared a meal together.

Maybe, Dowoon was right.

Pushing back his chair, Brian made his way out of the study and down to the kitchen, stopping in the threshold when he overheard the conversation between the occupants of the room.

“Shh! What if someone hears you talking? It will look like you’re talking to yourself!”

“Wonpil, don’t be so silly! Everyone’s being entertained in the main living room right now. We’re completely alone down here.”

“You make it sound as if you like that idea,” his friend mentioned and Brian cleared his throat noisily, his bitterness overshadowing any guilt he felt at breaking up the couple’s alone time. Wonpil, clutching his heart, heaved a little with his fright. “You could have given us fair warning!”

“Why? Your heart won’t jump out of your chest with a little scare,” Brian remarked, reaching for a piece of brownie on the table. He held it up and smiled. “I was told to come for this.”

“Yes, but Sarah’s heart could and as much as that could simplify things, I’d much rather she live out a full life until she joins us in the afterlife.”

The only living human in the room swatted a bashful hand out at Wonpil. “Stop it!”

“I won’t! You are special to me how you are!”

And that signalled Brian’s departure from the kitchen, unsure if the brooding overwhelming him stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t really taste the chocolatey goodness of the treat within his hand that he nibbled on, or because he had to agree with Wonpil to some extent.

If you weren’t just like Sarah, someone who possessed a beating heart, that would simplify things. You would be on a level playing field. Brian knew nothing was ever truly equal in relationships – dead or alive. Still, it would mean you wouldn’t be doing everything so separately. He couldn’t help you run the guest house. He wasn’t able to assist you with your guests like Sarah could. Of course, he did his fair share around the manor where he could, and you were always grateful for that. But it didn’t change the fact that if he walked into the living room right now, only you would see him. Further, you couldn’t interact with him other than in subtle ways that wouldn’t bring attention to the living.

Sensing movement by the front door that he had mindlessly wandered towards, he gave a small smile to Jae who was slipping into his jacket.

“Oh bro! Had enough of the books?”

Shrugging loosely, Brian rocked back on his heels. “What are you up to? Do you want-”

Jae tipped his head to the side as he brushed down the collar to his jacket and then grinned. “Me? It’s date night.”

“A-Again?” Brian breathed incredulously and his friend nodded.

“You know how it is. Married life is all about making sure you keep things fresh and healthy. Date night is a part of that.”

Swallowing down a bitter curse that he, in fact, did not know how any of it was, Brian smiled again, albeit more strained this time. “Where are you going?”

“Downtown theatre.”

“Aren't they only showing Little Women right now? You saw that last week.”

“Gotta keep the Mrs happy, Brian,” Jae announced and then smiled as his Mrs, also known as Becky, came into view.

Her ruby lips twisted up with disdain. “I heard you.”

“I know you did and that was why I kept my talk decent,” Jae quipped, leading his wife out the front door of the manor house with a hasty farewell wave to Brian as he left him behind.

Brian sighed heavily once the pair had gone. Even if they bickered more often than not, he was jealous of them. At least, they prioritised having a date night.

Had he ever gone out on a date with you? Sure, he spent most of his time in your company. You would wake up together, run errands in town or the closest city, sometimes walking along the beach like the others were right now. On the odd occasion, if you didn’t pass out early from exhaustion from running the bed and breakfast, you would curl up in his arms and catch up or read books together. Eventually though, you would fall asleep and a new day would arrive just like that.

Time never had much value to him until he started being with you. It felt like there was never enough of it, moments stolen in between house chores and setting up for new arrivals.

The longer he went through the catalogue of his moments with you in his mind, he realised he had never gone out of his way to call anything a date. Glancing at the large event board by the coat closet, he moved closer to inspect the decorated part of the calendar, indicating that Valentine’s Day was just around the corner. Smiling, he finished his piece of brownie with more enthusiasm before clapping his hands together.

He knew what he had to do.

You smiled brightly when you felt arms slip around your waist from behind you, instinctively leaning back and allowing Brian to step in closer. You nuzzled into him briefly. “Well hello, handsome.”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You gestured to the various hues of pink and red that you were using to decorate the living room. “It’s the month of love.”

“The month of love?” he echoed, chuckling softly. “I thought Valentine’s was only a day in February. One in which, I’m certain I heard you proclaim was not your cup of tea.”

Turning around in his arms, Brian grinned at your expression. You scrunched your nose up further. “If I’m honest, it is really cliché. I mean, you should show your partner that you love them every day, right?”

He didn’t answer, simply staring back at you and hoping that you could feel what he did deep down. Brian never questioned your love for him. He just wished you realised how you prioritised him in your schedule.

And how little lately.

“However, from a business standpoint, Valentine’s is the perfect time to whisk your loved one off somewhere to have a little rendezvous. We’re completely booked out for the entire week that Valentine’s falls on.”

Brian’s mood dampened. “Really? You didn’t plan to have even one day off?”

“Now why would I do that?” you questioned, moving away from him to return to your decorations.

“Because you did during Christmas.”

You laughed and shot him a look. “There’s a huge difference between both events. Besides, we had a Christmas wedding to plan for.”

“Would it take another wedding for you to take time off again?” he wondered with a heavy breath and you stopped hanging the balloons, turning back to him.

“Are you okay?”

“I was hoping we could have some time together that week. A whole day, actually.”

You cocked your head to the side, intrigued. “Why?”

“Do you know we’ve never gone on an actual date, Y/N?”

“We haven’t?” Brian shook his head and you fell silent.

“Becky and Jae go on one almost every week.”

“That’s because they can.”

“Why can’t we?” he asked, a little hurt by your response. You could tell and swallowed slowly. “Because I’m not alive?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you mumbled, guilt washing over you. “Not at all. Hey! We do things together all the time! We just went to the city together last week.”

“To pick up plant boxes for the vegetable patch.”

“It was fun though. And it was just you and me.”

Brian sighed. “I meant, intentional time together. I want to do things with you like a proper couple does.”

“Can we do that?” you breathed and immediately shook your hands to dismiss your doubt. “Of course we can. We will!”

“You’ll give me one day of your time?”

“How about the day before Valentine’s?” you offered and Brian began to smile. You, however, looked stressed. “I’ll just ask Sarah to step up a bit whilst we’re gone. We will have the best date ever!”

He should have known with your hesitance that this date of yours would be a disaster.

Still, when you met him out in the foyer by the front door, Brian felt hopeful. You had put in some effort to how you looked; wearing one of the dresses he knew you had dug out of your grandmother’s wardrobe. It looked perfect on you and with a hooked arm extended out to you, Brian allowed you to curl a hand around it before leading the way out to the car.

For the trip to the city, you were both excited. Conversation flowed freely as did a lot of singing. He could see how affected you were after he sang along to a Michael Buble song on the radio, the hand he had held the whole trip growing a little clammy. It satisfied Brian to know he had charms about him still.

But it all turned pear-shaped when you pulled up at the restaurant you had made a reservation at. The maître d looked at you and then frowned. “Is your lunch partner running late?”

“What? No,” you answered, smiling at Brian and then swallowing down your easy reaction. Brian stiffened at your side. “Oh. Yes, they are.”

“I’m afraid right now we’re really busy and so we’ll have to seat you up at the bar. We’ll be able to find you a table when you’re ready.”

“Can’t I just be seated at a table for two regardless?”

He shook his head at your request. “Sorry, it’s our restaurant’s rules.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Brian breathed into your ear but you shook your head subtlety.

“I’ll just go somewhere else,” you announced, turning on your heel and hurrying back out to the car.

Brian stared at you when he was seated next to you again. Your cheeks were red and he could tell it wasn’t only with annoyance. He caressed your face softly. “I didn’t think that would be a rule in a restaurant.”

“It’s fine. We’ll still eat together, Brian. Who needs to go to a restaurant like that? Even though I look like this, I can eat anywhere!”

You both ended up in the food court, your determination now tapered out as you sat across from him staring down at your sushi. The noise within the eatery was louder than the ambience at your first stop and Brian pushed down his disappointment.

This wasn’t where he wanted to take you out to eat today.

“It’s fine,” you mentioned again when you caught his gaze, smiling for his benefit. “I love sushi.”

“I know you do.”

“What’s next on the list after eating?” you asked and Brian reached out for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I thought we could go to the museum together.”

You brightened. “I haven’t been in years.”

“It’ll be fun. You love old things,” he commented and you slyly grinned at him whilst nodding.

“You know, I really do.”

With your lunch eaten, you got back in the car to head to the museum together. A renewed energy stepped between you both as you began to look around, Brian swinging your hand in his gently as you walked around.

“Oh look!” you exclaimed, dragging him over to the Victorian section. You lit up as you inspected a selection of men’s outfits. Looking at Brian and then back at the mannequins, you giggled. “Are any of these looks for you?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in number three,” he breathed and you giggled. Looking towards the casual outfit on the end, Brian pointed. “That was more like me.”

“Oh, now that is very you!” you exclaimed, looking at his modern outfit and then back at what was once the type of clothes he wore. “Maybe you should try them on again?”

“I’d rather stay like this,” he announced quickly, pulling you away from the display.

For the following hour, it felt as close as it could to a date for Brian. Of course, there were a couple of instances where other viewers would step too close to him and he’d have to sidestep away quickly to avoid being walked through. Still, he was having a lot of fun and he could tell you were as well.

Yet, Brian had become aware of a small group that had been following you both around the museum, and more so of their stares in your direction.

“Who is she talking to?”

“She’s weird, don’t look at her.”

Brian attempted to ignore the jeers from them for some time before he let out a sigh, stepping in front of you with a weak smile. You placed a hand on his torso affectionately. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

“Pull out your phone.”

“It’s already in my hand,” you pointed out, now confused. “I’ve been taking photos!”

“I mean, pull it up to your ear. Do you have your earbuds? Maybe put one in.”

You slowly looked around yourself, realising what he was referring to. Brian closed his eyes to maintain his emotions, hating that you were now aware of the people whispering and looking. He wondered if it would have been better to leave you oblivious to it all.

Forcibly smiling, you pulled out your earbuds and angled your phone towards yourself so it looked like you were on a call. And from that moment out, the trip to the museum became subdued.

“Let’s forgo the gift shop and head back to the car, hm?” he offered when you had made your way back around to the exit, your head lowered in defeat. Brian rubbed your arms softly. “We can go and-”

“I want to find something to remember this outing by,” you mumbled, stepping away from him and going into the gift store. It took a few minutes for your head to lift back up to a level you could maintain without feeling uncomfortable. He could see in your eyes that you were trying to salvage the trip here. Stepping over to your side, he pointed at an arrangement of keyrings with the museum’s logo on it.

“What about one of those?”

You shook your head. “Anyone could have one of them. I want something more us.”

It was a slow process of finding something that you liked. A couple of times you got excited over an item and turned to show him it, only to stop mid-way and cast your gaze around the tiny shop to see if anyone was watching.

It was a keyring and magnet that you eventually settled on, your mood had fallen to a level that he felt he couldn’t retrieve it from. Still, Brian attempted to. “Do you want to go shopping? I’m sure we could cheer up looking at stores together.”

“I do need to get a couple of things from the mall,” you agreed quietly, driving the car to the closest one. With yourself fully armed this time from the start, you relaxed into your experience at the mall. You had done this many times together and perhaps that was why you seemed to grow your confidence again.

“Oh, let’s look in here!” you exclaimed, walking hastily towards a jewellery store. As you browsed, Brian lingered at your side, trying not to take much notice of the items. He didn’t know how to act within such a place. Of course, he wanted to take a deeper look at everything they had in stock. Although he might be a little outdated, even back in his times, he knew the importance of a fine gemstone on a necklace or ring. It made him uncomfortable because he wanted nothing more than to find something for you.

“Anything caught your eye?” you murmured when you looked back at him and Brian shrugged. Smiling, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the display boxes. Everything was so sparkly; it took him several blinks to actually focus on anything. You squeezed his hand before letting go, wandering around the store whilst he remained where you placed him.

Brian’s eyes were stuck on a delicate pendant. It held a blue stone within its centre, the metal surrounding it linked in a unique way to hold it together. He decided it reminded him of his love for you.

Brian didn’t even realise he was crying until he felt his cheeks were wet. You approached him calmly, peering at what caught his eye. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It is.”

“Blue topaz is your birthstone too, did you know that?”

He hadn’t but there was no way he could reply, overwhelmed by the pure need for the necklace. His eyes travelled to the price tag and sighed.

A ghost couldn’t exactly purchase anything.

“Excuse me,” you called out and Brian turned to stare at you, somewhat disconnected in the moment. He didn’t hear the rest of your sentence, but when the necklace was taken from the display and you stepped away from his side, he knew what you had done. Walking out of the store, he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, collecting himself when you bounced up to his side and waggled the gift bag. “Here you go! Ah, I’ll carry for you until we’re back at the car!”

“Why did you do that?”

You beamed at him. “Because I could see what it meant to you.”

“I wanted to get it for you,” he explained and your smile evaporated. “I can’t even get you a god damn gift!”

“Brian,” you started but he shook his head, storming away from you and going back out to the car. He laughed bitterly when he was able to slip inside without you unlocking it. Because he wasn’t bound to the same world as you were. Although he could touch you and all the things that your realm held, he wouldn’t ever truly exist in it.

This date had been the worst idea he could ever have. It highlighted all his fears. Inside the manor house, you never seemed unattainable, apart from your endless working hours. But stepping out of the house he had stayed close to for the last century and trying to do something that normal people did had been foolish. Jae and Becky were an anomaly. Brian had learned today that dating was only for people who both either had hearts that moved or had turned to dust years ago.

Brian was in the study again, this time no book was held within his grip. Instead, you had left him with the small gift bag and headed into your bedroom, locking the door behind you, your tears muffled as he had listened on until he couldn’t take it any longer.

Looking down at the velvet case on the table, Brian snapped the lid open and stared at the necklace you had bought in his stead. He closed the lid with a sigh, only to open it again, repeating his actions even though they were taking quite a toll on his energy levels. He hadn’t expected going out on a date with you to be so exhausting.

No wonder Jae always crashed the day after his outings with Becky.

The door to the study opened and closed, though Brian had no interest in tearing his gaze away from the jewellery box before him. He blinked when a hand picked it up and a low whistle left the man before him. Sungjin then chuckled. “Wow, this is real nice.”

Brian gave no response, though his fingers reached out to touch the velvet once it was back on the table.

“Did you steal it?”

“That would take a lot of energy though perhaps I would feel more at ease had I.”

Sungjin chuckled softly. “No, it wouldn’t make you feel any better. And Y/N would have felt bad too. It’s best to do things in their realm the legal way.”

“Did … did you steal something?” Brian asked, glancing up and seeing the answer in Sungjin’s face. He gaped at his friend. “What was it?”

“A brooch,” he admitted, toying with the stack of books on the edge of the desk.

Brian sucked in a dramatic breath when he realised it was the one Pearl had worn all the time. “That brooch? I thought Pearl bought it!”

“My pride was knocked around from that ordeal. It sucks having to step back when it comes to dating though, huh?”

Brian nodded glumly. “I wanted to drive the car.”

“And hold open the doors?” Sungjin offered in which his friend agreed to with another nod.

“I wanted to make Y/N feel special and enjoy herself. Instead, all we did was constantly remind one another of our differences.”

“The only true difference you both have are that you were born over a century and a half ago and Y/N is from this time we’re existing in now. Your morals will be outdated in her world.”

“Hardly, there’s more and you know it.”

Sungjin shrugged, though his gaze was less nonchalant. “There’s only more if you allow them to be there. Why focus on the unimportant stuff?”

“Sungjin, the fact that I’m dead and Y/N’s not is kind of important.”

“Is it? I wasted far too many years of Pearl’s life thinking just like that, you know. To her, all she cared about was her feelings for me and mine of hers. All couples have to learn to compromise and accept how the other is. You’ve been doing that all along. Before this desire of yours to be more than you are, you were working well together, Brian.”

“Were we? I felt like I never did anything with her,” Brian lamented and his friend moved around the desk to pat him on the shoulder.

“So tell Y/N that, not me. You didn’t need to go all out on some fancy date to let her know what’s really been bothering you.”

“Is this how Y/N feels after talking with you?” he breathed as he got to his feet and Sungjin grinned.

“Hey, I have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. It took me a damn long time to get here though. I don’t want to see either of you spend decades stuck in the wrong situation like I did with Pearl.”

“I wouldn’t let even a year pass by being away from Y/N,” Brian replied and Sungjin clapped him on the back.

“See, you’re already ahead of me. Now, how about you go let her know how you’ve been feeling!”

You were already asleep when Brian quietly entered your bedroom, slipping into the bed tentatively. When he had been alive, he had dated briefly and so the only arguments he had experienced were with those of his friends and family. Now in his afterlife, you had been his first true love. He didn’t know what was practical to do within the delicate situation afterwards, no matter how many relationships he had studied within novels over the decades. He laid still beside you, chewing on his lip until your body shifted closer, your arm soon flung over him. Brian reached for your hand gently, drawing it up to his chest and placing it there instead.

He knew when the morning arrived that he would tell you everything. Until then, he would enjoy the proximity you sought after as you dreamed, your body now pressed into him at multiple spots.

Despite his lack of actual sleep, Brian felt well-rested when you finally opened your eyes. And he smiled when you didn’t move away from him when you realised how curled up you were next to him.

“Morning.”

“Hi,” you breathed, swallowing visibly. “Brian, I’m sorry-”

“Can I go first?” he interrupted, smiling at you more warmly. He reached out to brush some of your hair away from your face. “I’ve been waiting all night long to tell you how I feel and I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Did you not sleep?” He shook his head softly and you gasped. “Brian! You should have woken me up so you could get some sleep after talking!”

“I don’t need to sleep every night, remember?”

“Still,” you mumbled, pouting for effect.

“Can I tell you my thoughts?” he asked and you nodded softly, your gaze not leaving his. Brian smiled, reminding himself to actually start talking instead of admiring the way you respected that he needed to talk. He felt foolish for a fleeting moment.

He knew he could have told you all this before and you would have listened at any stage.

“I took you out on that date yesterday because I had convinced myself that was what was missing from us. I saw everyone around us doing their own thing with those that matter the most to them and believed that to do that with you too, I needed to step up, to do more couple focused events.”

“I did enjoy the concept of going out with you, Brian.”

“I know,” he told you, reaching out to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently running along your skin. “And in the future, I hope we can do other things together out of the house. But the real reason for my attempt is that I stopped valuing my place here with you,”

You frowned. “What do you mean? You are everything to me!”

“So is your business,” he pointed out, sighing when your brows knitted together. “I started to feel it was easier to focus on the living as opposed to me because their needs are more visible here.”

Touching his neck with your hand, you smiled. “You’re visible to me too. But I do understand, I think. Things have been really busy when people started asking for longer stays and I went from working a certain amount of days to seven days a week.”

“Are you tired?”

You nodded. “I thought I had to prove more of myself with running the bed and breakfast. I got greedy from my success. Even when I was tired, I was consumed with doing better.”

“I wish I could help you with it and that we could run this together. But my place here doesn’t stand out as much as yours.”

“Really? You’re my favourite to talk about around the fireplace. A lot of people leave here charmed by this mysterious man they have seen the portrait of in the hallway. Don’t tell the others but you’re a crowd favourite. Must be these handsome looks of yours.”

Brian smirked. “I think it’s all down to how much you talk me up.”

“You know, it’s not the same, but I hope you know you’re welcome in the room during the times when I’m entertaining. You’ve shared your stories with me in the past and I relay them. But you could be there to help me with them. And in return, I’ll try to find balance with how much I let this place overrun me. As much as I love sharing my joy for the manor, all the people who live here are the true reason this house is magical to me. You are my longest friend, Brian. Before all this-”

You gestured between you both with a proud smile before continuing. “-you and the others were my five childhood friends who I felt safe around. I still feel safe here and I don’t believe I’m missing out on anything just because I can’t go eat in a fancy restaurant with you. I’d much rather cook together here.”

“Do you know I adore how honest you are?” he wondered, moving to rest his forehead on yours. “Here I was withholding my feelings because I worried we weren’t real enough.”

“Oh, we’re real, Brian. I realised yesterday on the trip home that I was more embarrassed with myself than I was with our unique relationship. I don’t need approval from anyone but myself to love you.”

“If you could choose to wait for a lifetime where we’re alive together or keep what we have now, even with its differences, would you still choose now?”

You nodded immediately and his heart soared. “Of course. Besides, you promised along with Jae, Dowoon, Wonpil and Sungjin that you’d stay with me here until I’m joining you all over in the afterlife. This is just the entrée to our love together.”

“Are you hungry? You keep talking about food,” he asked with a chuckle and you giggled, nodding.

“I want to go make pancakes.”

“Why pancakes?”

“Well, it’s a special day for a lot of our guests but more so for us.”

“It is?”

You nodded. “Don’t you remember one year where I stayed here as a kid because my parents had to go on a business trip and my grandmother was unwell so you five all stood over the stovetop attempting to make a batch of pancakes for me to eat?”

“You remember that? God, I have all the time in the world to replay my existence and yet you recall that far more easily than I would. Was that Valentines Day?”

You nodded, pulling away from him and padding across your room to a familiar book on your shelf, slipping something out of it. Coming back over to the bed, you crawled to his side and handed over the card. Brian chuckled as he opened it. “You still have this?”

“You were my first Valentine.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in today?”

“I believe love should be shown every day, I’ve admitted that. But I do believe in this day. Not for the reason a lot of others do, just for the fact that it makes me think of you all.”

Brian leaned in to kiss you before brushing your hair away from your face. “You were my first Valentine too.”

“I doubt it. I bet you had ladies lining up for your hand. Look at you! So charming that even the mistresses of the house you served no doubt harboured feelings for you!”

“Are you jealous if they did?” he wondered, following you as you got up from the bed and headed out into the hallway, taking the path to the kitchen. Since it was early, none of the guests were out of their rooms yet.

You shot Brian a look. “Why be jealous when I have you now!”

“Who’s jealous?” Jae enquired when you both arrived in the kitchen, Brian surprised by the full turn out. Aside from Sarah who hadn’t stayed at the manor last night, the full-time residents were all seated at the table in the room.

“I am!” Sungjin proclaimed, pointing to everyone in the room. “Pearl can’t come to visit any time soon like she did over Christmas. Look at all these couples around me.”

Wonpil shook his head. “My love isn’t here yet.”

“Love? So it’s to that point already?” Becky breathed in amazement, clasping her friend’s hand in hers. And then she turned to you. “Y/N, is there a reason you wanted us all here today?”

“It’s pancake day,” you announced and went to retrieve two boxes of premixed pancake mix from the cupboard.

Dowoon grinned and stopped rubbing his dog’s tummy. “You really trust us to make these?”

“I think we’ll be tempting fate again,” Jae agreed, shuddering as Becky stared at her husband in confusion. Jae sighed heavily. “We were in charge of feeding Y/N one year when Pearl was unwell. It took us forty minutes to serve up the world’s worst breakfast.”

“It was my favourite breakfast,” you corrected, handing a box to Sungjin and Wonpil each. “And it’s Valentines. Can’t we all have some time together before I go make my guests feel the magic in the air or whatever it is?”

It was chaotic, to say the least. Still, after all the years that had passed, none of them had mastered the art of cooking in your realm. It wasn’t as if they truly needed to, given spirits didn’t need food to sustain themselves like you did. But thankfully this time, Becky was here and she managed to deter Jae from putting too much batter onto the pan at a time.

Watching everyone with a smile on his face, Brian quietly left the room to retrieve the necklace from the study, taking it out of the velvet box and marvelling at it as he carried it back to the kitchen. It would take him some time to fully accept his pride would be knocked about in this relationship. He decided he would attempt to make you things in the future when wanting to give you a proper gift. Still, he knew that this came from him despite how it fell into his hands.

And when Brian saw you again, he didn’t hesitate to sling it around your neck, doing up the clasp to the chain. You turned and slipped your arms around his waist. “I love you, Brian.”

“I love you too.”

“Hey, Valentine’s is for us all right?” Dowoon exclaimed and clapped his hands together. “I love you all! But I love Custard justttt a bit more.”

“Just a bit? I’m offended.”

“Jae, do you love me more than everyone here or not?” Becky offered with a smile and he chuckled.

“No, I love everyone more than you.”

“Hey!”

And just like that, the room filled with laughter and exclamations, much like it always did when you all were together.

And as Brian held your hand within his, he realised that he liked Valentine’s a whole lot more than he ever had. It wasn’t about being the perfect date. Or having the best relationship either. Even though he had new ideas and couldn’t wait to spend more alone time with you.

But for now, he was surrounded by everyone he adored. And if Valentine’s was the day of love, then he knew he would be full from this year’s one.

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[allicekitty13]

Born To Run: Chapter 1

Mary-Alice Brandon has just returned to her hometown after an incident causing her to relocate just a year ago. Meanwhile, Jasper has become increasingly frustrated with his home life and decides to uncover just what exactly his brother had been hiding. In 1957 two people, with two drastically different personalities meet for the first time. Will their worlds clash or will they realize the only ones they can truly trust with their secrets are each other.

Read On Ao3

Read On FFN

Her eyes fluttered open at the prompting chime of her alarm clock currently ringing on the bedside table to her right. Mustering up as much energy as possible when one was just pulled promptly frum slumber, Alice rolled from the comfortable position on her side to lie flat on her back. Despite the powder blue clock still ringing throughout her bedroom, Alice couldn't help but to reflect on the wonderful dream she'd been having.

In the night vision, she'd been back in Paris shopping with her step-sister Kate. Being in France the past year had been like a dream come true, a much-needed break from the reality she'd been forced to return to. Kate was newly engaged and thus had decided to return home to Nevada with Alice and her fiance, Garrett, in tow. 

Alice's stomach grumbled loudly and painfully, pulling her from the reminiscing session. She snapped her eyes shut tightly, attempting to ignore the alarm's offending bell and the painful ache in her stomach.  Of course, it was no use; her vacation was over. It was time to come down from the clouds and return to reality. Needing to focus on one issue at a time and the alarm still prompting to her side currently being the most prominent, Alice took a deep breath accepting her fate. Summing the energy to flick the little tab on top of the clock to the off position effectively silenced the alarm blanketing the room in silence. 

Willing herself to sit up fully, Alice removed the pale pink sleeping mask covering her eyes, finally greeting the day. She pulled the plush comforter away from her small body and swung her left over the mattress, placing her feet in the house slippers kept neatly next to the bed. She pulled the think pink satin robe that hung from her bedpost over her thin shoulders as she crossed the room to the window overlooking the back garden. Pulling open the lace curtains, Alice gazed down at the flowers.

It was just before dawn, her favorite time of the day. Alice reveled in the way the dim twilight touched down on the beautiful flowers and the small white iron bench she had coerced her father into placing in the middle of the lovely space. The scene was peaceful; day had started, although night hadn't quite ended. Nature reflecting how nothing was black and white; there were gray areas in everything, in everyone. Nothing like the reality she would be walking into in only a few hours. 

Turning her attention back to the clock, the small teen accepted that she had been staring out the window, lost in thought for far too long. Something her step-father, whom she was meant to meet for breakfast shortly, was regularly scolding her for.

She didn't remember her biological father, and her mother rarely spoke of the man. The facts she had were that her parents had been wed young in an arranged marriage in 1938, Edgar Brandon had been drafted to join the war just two years after Alice was born. The man had gone missing in action, presumed dead. 

Shortly after Alice's fourth birthday, Lilian had met a charming man by the name of Eleazar Burke. Before the year was out, the happy couple were married. Eleazar was the only father Alice had ever known. The now seventeen-year-old adored her unusual family; Kate was more than she could have ever asked for in an older sibling they, of course, fought at times but very close. While they may not be biologically related, Alice couldn't imagine a kinder, more understanding father in Eleazar. He loved all three of his daughters, including Alice, equally never playing favorites. He didn't play favorites, distributing the wealth and opportunity attached to his name evenly between the three girls.

Once she'd gotten moving, preparing for the day came like second nature. She now stood in front of the mirror with her hair and makeup done. She was fully dressed in her favorite skirt and sweater set, complete with the new petticoat she had picked up shopping with Kate over the summer. She'd been saving it specifically for her first day at school back in her hometown since the incident. The way it flared out the red skirt was both fashionable and made her hips look just a bit thicker. The matching cardigan hung somewhat loose, also in line with the current trends while slightly masking the frailness of her frame. She smoothed down the skirt and straightened out her pan collar perfectly before pinning both sides down with the lucky pearl collar pins inherited from her maternal grandmother. Alice took one final look in the mirror with a deep breath and silent prayer. She plastered a smile on her face, ready to face the day.

Meanwhile, across town, Jasper Whitlock was in for a quite literal rude awakening. "Wake up, sleepyhead. We're gonna' be late for school." With a groan of annoyance, Jasper opened his eyes to the familiar face of his cousin Rosalie. The sassy blonde was simultaneously one of his favorite people yet also the curse of his existence. Jasper frequently shifted between feelings of gratefulness for having such a fun-loving relative living next door and wishing her family had never moved across the country to help out after his mother's passing.

With her presently standing next to his bed, hands on her hips, very likely fully prepared to throw something at him if he didn't get moving. He was currently feeling the latter. "Since when do you care about school?" He groaned, sitting up on the thin mattress lying on the floor. "More importantly, why are you here, and how did you get in my room?"

"The door, your dads passed out again and it was unlocked." Rosalie shrugged, crossing the room to take a seat at the only chair not covered in clothing, sheet music, or records as she examined her nails. "Anyway, I don't care about school, but I don't want to miss the fireworks, so we're at least going to morning classes. Now, get up and get dressed."

"What are you yammering on about?" Jasper responded as he threw the worn, tattered blankets to the side and grabbed a white t-shirt from its place, lazily shoved into an already open dresser drawer directly to the side of his mattress.

"Mary-Alice Brandon is coming back today."

"Yeah," The other teen rolled his eyes. "Well fuck Mary-Alice Brandon."

"Oh, come on, tell me you don't care about the inherent entertainment of watching everyone flock back to following her lead and leaving poor Charlotte in the dust."

"You're demented."

"You know how petty high school politics amuse me so." The tall blonde woman shrugged before she stood straightening out her leather jacket as she crossed the room. "At least come to support your best friend? Charlotte is either going to be elated or upset. If it's the latter, it's going to make Pete upset. Relationships are kind of like dominos that way. Now hurry up, Riley's waiting outside, and we need a ride, oh favorite cousin of mine."

With that, Rosalie confidently strutted out of her cousin's room, down that hallway. In the Whitlock's living room, her mother and uncle were engaged in the same decade-old argument they'd been having from the moment Ruth and Joseph Hale had packed up their family moving from New York to Nevada. Rosalie had only been one at the time, having no memory of what actually happened. The backlash, however, had caused a ripple effect through the lives of everyone in the family. Because of this, it was no secret that Irene Whitlock had passed away shortly after Jasper's birth. That uncle Thomas had fallen into deep despair losing his job and drinking the days away. 

It was concern for the boys, James and Jasper, that had prompted the move. Her mother so worried for her nephew's well being that they'd relocated their entire lives to be there and help take care of them. It was meant to be temporary until Thomas got back on his feet. Seventeen years later, the siblings were still arguing over it. Her mother pleading for the man to think of his children. 

Unwilling to witness the same fight yet again, Rosalie left the house and headed to the street where her twin brother stood leaning against Jasper's car. "Is he coming?" Riley asked, disinterestedly kicking absently at the pavement, scuffing up his shoes in the process. 

"Yeah, I had to guilt-trip him, but he's coming."

Just as the words had left Rosalie's mouth, the seventeen-year-old in question came shuffling out of the house. Once the door was carefully and quietly shut behind him, Jasper's demeanor shifted, and he confidently stalked down the sidewalk, climbing into his car without uttering a single word. No sooner had the twins piled into the vehicle behind him than Jasper had peeled out of the driveway headed in the direction of the local high school, barely giving Riley enough time to pull the door shut.

Outside the school, Peter, Jasper's best friend, a tall boy with dark hair, was standing in the parking lot talking to Charlotte. The pair had begun dating over the summer, much to Jasper's annoyance. Their relationship had started in the fall when the girl had entered the antique shop owned by Jasper's uncle that Peter worked in part-time. The two had hit it off as instant friends. Despite a plethora of drama involving Charlotte's now ex-boyfriend Demetri and her friend Jane, the pair had entered into a romantic relationship.

While Jasper didn't particularly care for the girl or her crowd, Peter was gone for her. So the teen put up with Charlotte, and more often than he'd like the teenage queens who followed her around like puppies. Over time, though he would die before admitting it to anyone, he'd even begun to almost like her.

So, when he exited his car, Jasper nodded in greeting to the new couple from across the parking lot before turning to his own social circle in the parking space next to his own. The teens were gathered around admiring Benjamin's new car that he'd won in a race just a few weeks prior. Maria, one of his oldest friends having grown up in the same neighborhood, was already stretched out across the hood leaning back against the windshield. A cigarette burned from its place tucked loosely between her fingers as she chatted with Lucy and Nettie about their plans for the afternoon once they'd ditched.

Jasper was well aware that most if any of the assembled teenagers would be ducking out before the end of the school day. Personally, he intended to be long gone as soon as Rosalie's attention was elsewhere. Which, judging by how engaged she seemed to be in her conversation with Benjamin and Randall on the mechanical details of the new car, wouldn't be long. However, he was already here, and it wouldn't hurt to at least stay for first period. So he elected to join in on Riley, Makenna, and Charles's conversation about the new Buddy Holly single.

Jasper had just made plans with the latter two to head to the local diner later and play the song on the jukebox when Peter, followed closely by Charlotte, headed over to collect his best friend for homeroom. Bidding his friends goodbye, Jasper followed the other boy, his girlfriends, and the group of students she associated with into the building where their lockers were located. As always, because lockers were assigned alphabetically by surname, Peter and Jasper's lockers were right next to each other. 

Not planning on being an active student, let alone showing up at school more often than necessary, Jasper hadn't brought alone anything to warrant keeping in a locker. So, he took a seat on a bench located under a window next to the set of lockers letting the other teens chat as they placed their belonging in the metal storage structures. 

"Is that Mary-Alice?" Eric Yorke, a rather talkative and, in Jasper's opinion, annoying boy gasped out capturing his and Charlotte's attention. The latter turned away from her conversation with Bella and Jane to look at the boy in confusion. 

Charlotte had known her best friend was back in town, but when they'd spoken earlier Alice, as she'd decided to begin going by dropping the first half of her name, had stated her parents would allow the tiny teen to skip the first week of classes. Being an exceptional student well on the way to becoming valedictorian, and taking the incident into consideration, the school had happily accommodated.

"I thought you said she wasn't coming back until next week Char?" Bella spoke quietly, her eyes now following the same trajectory of Eric's

"Looks like the reign of Charlotte is over." Mike snickered, also staring at the top of the stairwell. Following her friends' gaze, Charlotte's expression quickly morphed from one of confusion to that of utter delight. 

Jasper didn't care much for the particulars of high school politics. Prior to Peter's entanglement with Charlotte, the name Mary-Alice had been nothing more than a blip on his radar. The two ran in vastly different circles, he being a proud greaser surrounding himself with like-minded truants who cared more about races and the newest records than anything else. She, a spoiled overachiever. The goody-two-shoes type who headed every committee whose word the majority of student's hung on. Still, even he'd noticed when the girl had disappeared a year ago. So, he turned his attention to the sight that had captured everyone's attention, curious as to what the commotion was about.

 He was met with the sight of a girl who's smile was so pure she almost seemed to glow. Short despite her blatant attempt to make up the difference with the kitten heels she wore. Her slightly curly hair was a chocolate-colored brown rested just short of her chin. Based on the perfect angles of her collar and the way she kept nervously smoothing out her skirt, it was apparent that she'd taken great care to ensure every aspect of her appearance was perfect. His dislike for the teen was instant; he hardly tried to hide the scowl from his face as he watched her scan the hallway. Once her blue eyes landed upon the small group, she burst into a bright smile and a somehow graceful run down the stairwell.

"Charlotte!" Alice exclaimed in a melodic chirp as she reached the gathering. 

"Alice!" The taller girl responded with equal enthusiasm throwing her arms around her friend. "What are you doing at school?" She questioned the smile never leaving her face as she released her friend.

"Papa thought it might be best to just jump right in if I was up for it since I'm home already." Her smile faltered at the statement but returned quickly. "Who are our new friends?" She asked catching sight of Jasper and Peter eyeing the two with curiosity. The former of whom rolled his eyes at the assumption, he was not nor would her ever be her friend.

Jasper opened his mouth to inform this 'Mary-Alice' of as much, but Charlotte responded before he could get the words out. "Alice," She stated grabbing Peter's hand. "This is Peter, my boyfriend. And that's his best friend Jasper."

"Wow," Alice's eyes widened. "I have missed a lot. It's lovely to meet you both." She smiled once again as she took a seat on the bench next to Jasper, expertly tucking her skirt underneath her slim legs as she descended. "The four of us should go bowling after school; I'd love to get to know the both of you better."

Jasper's annoyance grew at the suggestion, unable to put up with anymore he stood in a haste. "That's never going to happen." He shot the small girl a glare and stormed down the hall out of the building. Forget Rosalie, he thought approaching his vehicle in the parking lot. Forget school, and most of all forget Mary-Alice Brandon.

[hurt-care]

I’ve had a hard time writing anything of any length lately, but this one sort of tumbled out of me tonight. It’s pretty gratuitous....some historical porn with some light plot and no editing...18+ at the end. F, allergies. Set around 1909ish.

---

“Please pass along my regrets. I will not be able to attend any social engagements for several more weeks, I fear."

Katherine Hastings lowered her chin and closed her eyes momentarily as the maid stood opposite, waiting.

“Your mother, madam...” the girl began but Katherine raised her hand and opened her eyes once more.

“Forgive me, Mary,” she said. “I feared another spell might overcome me but it has passed. Please have my regrets sent to the Millers and tell my mother that she can come see me herself if she does not believe the severity of my condition.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Mary said, bobbing slightly with a curtsey as she turned and left.

Katherine sunk back into her chair with a sigh and touched her nose with her ever-present handkerchief, careful to avoid irritating the raw skin of the area too much. For weeks now she'd been holed up in her chambers, afflicted with a spell of the rose cold that kept her in fits of sneezes and with wheezing breath. Her eyes, normally rich chestnut brown and cheerful, swelled and itched and ran with tears so often that she was forced to spend hours each day with a compress covering them. The affliction was such that might progress to a bit of clear-headed peace enough to allow her to take afternoon tea with her mother but by evening, it would return with its swollen grip and send her sniffling and sneezing into her rooms once more.

Her mother was profoundly irritated by the situation, as Katherine's husband was overseas on an extended business trip and as the lady of the house, it was Katherine's duty to be keeping up with the social elites of the area. They'd moved into the estate after Katherine's marriage to James Hastings and it was the first spring in the new home. Instead of enjoying the gardens and the tea socials held at neighbouring estates, Katherine was forced to turn down all invitations in favour of spending her day in her bath, reclining on a divan with cool towels draped over her face or otherwise trying steam treatments to ease her breathing. Once, Katherine had dressed fully for an attempt at a tea social in her own parlour with a young woman from a nearby home and was forced to retreat to her rooms with her maid halfway through the service, desperate to have her corset unlaced as she sneezed fitfully, unable to get a full breath with the restricting garment.

The village doctor had been consulted and could offer no remedies beyond a course of quiet rest and a solution of quinine to be applied inside the nostrils with a small brush. It offered little relief, so Katherine abandoned it along with the bitter lozenges that the doctor offered up for her occasional coughing. For weeks, Katherine had been playing out scenarios in her mind about her husband's return and how she might explain to him that their new home did not agree with her. They'd been married only two months when he'd left on the trip to Austria and he was due home soon. Their last correspondence from him had been three weeks ago when he'd written to say he was to make the last crossing to England on May the 6th.

It was nearing the end of the month and in spite of her congested head and weeping eyes, Katherine ached for his return. Perhaps, with his gentle spirit and guidance, she might find relief from the condition at last.

There was a knock at her chamber door and she sat up taller, giving her nose a cursory dab to relieve it of any lingering moisture.

“Yes?” she said. The door opened and her mother entered followed by Mary carrying a tea tray.

“I thought I might join you for your breakfast,” her mother said, sitting down opposite Katherine at the small table in the bedroom's adjacent parlour.

“Mother,” Katherine began, but her nose flared with a sudden insistent tickle and she took a small, fast breath before turning away, shielding her face with her handkerchief.

Eh'tshchHTT! Ngh'TSCHHI!

She pinched her nose hard to try to stop the itch but succeed only in stifling another sneeze.

Ngh'GXT!

Her mother frowned and made a soft tutting noise.

“I wonder what James will make of all this when he returns.”

Katherine sneezed a final time and wiped her nose gingerly before turning back to her mother.

“I suspect he will feel a great concern for my suffering,” she said, reaching for her teacup as Mary finished pouring. She took a careful sip of the hot liquid, willing it to soothe the deep irritation in her throat and nose.

“I maintain that you are just too high-strung and you are bringing this condition on yourself. If you would only accept your position and enjoy these socials, you would find you do not suffer so.”

“You want me to leave this home and socialize with a nose as pink as a cherry and eyes weeping with tears non-stop?” Katherine snapped. “I would certainly be a topic of conversation. I can barely stand to wear a corset; my lungs struggle so. And ten minutes out-of-doors sends me straight into spasms of sneezing. You have seen it yourself, mother.”

“I only think that holing yourself up here in your rooms every day has done little to alleviate things. You have become a recluse at twenty-three, Katherine.”

“I would love to be able to be visiting dear Celia and Vivienne and Edith, but I-- heh'TSGH!”

Katherine was interrupted by another volley of sneezes. She stood up with her handkerchief held to her nose and rushed off to her adjacent washroom, shutting the door behind her. The cavernous bath chamber echoed with the fit as she sat on the edge of the clawfoot tub, head bobbing with each small outburst.

Heh-TSGHT! Tsh'CHT! Ngh'TSCHT! T'CHTT! Ehh—TSCHHTT!

When she'd stopped the sneezing, blown her nose as politely as possible, and splashed a bit of water onto her swollen eyes, she emerged into her bedroom to find her mother gone.

Katherine didn't much feel like eating and the congestion of her nose made everything taste bland anyhow. She sipped at her tea and then rang to have a bath drawn.

An hour or so later, when the water was cooled, she dried off and slipped into a fresh lounging robe and let her hair loose down her back. Just as she was considering sitting in her parlour to read, she heard a great ruckus and voices downstairs in the main entrance of the house. There was a knock on her door and Mary came in, smiling widely.

“Mister Hastings has returned, ma'am,” she said. “Just pulled up in a motorcar from the station.”

Katherine felt her heart skip a beat.

“Oh, Mary!” she said. “Will you help me? I should put on something else.”

“The purple tea dress,” Mary suggested. “No corset needed for that and it's perfectly suitable.”

“You're divine, Mary,” Katherine said gratefully, stepping out of her lounge robe as Mary gathered up the silk dress and helped her into it.

“I'll pin up your hair if you sit a moment,” Mary offered as she fastened the back of the gown.

“Please,” Katherine said, taking a seat at the vanity and reaching for a fresh handkerchief from the pearl-inlayed box that sat nearby. She pressed the white cloth to her nose and inspected her reflection in the mirror.

“I do not know if I can stand to powder it,” she said, gazing at the bright pink nostrils in the centre of her face.

“He will be more delighted to see the whole of you than one little pink nose,” Mary assured her, pinning the last of her hair up. “Put on the necklace he gave you before he left and let's be done with it.”

Katherine fastened the gold and emerald locket around her neck and stood for a final inspection.

“Radiant,” Mary declared. “He'll be in the library. I heard your mother call for brandy.”

Katherine tucked her handkerchief into a small beaded handbag and descended the stairs towards the library. As she approached, she could hear her mother's voice.

“I swear, it's half in her head. She gets herself into these endless fits and she is exhausted by the end of it. If you ask me, it's hysteria that's led her to this. I hope that your return will bring some sense back into her head and rid her of it. She's been an invalid for near a month now.”

Katherine felt herself flush with anger to hear her mother tell it. If she'd had any control over the miserable state she'd been in all spring, she would have cured herself long ago.

Steeling her nerves, she walked into the library.

James was seated opposite and he looked up as she entered, his face splitting into a wide smile. She felt herself grin in return.

“James,” she said breathlessly.

He stood and strode across the room to embrace her.

“Dear heart,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he hugged her close. “Your mother says you've been so unwell. You didn't have to dress on my behalf. I was coming up to you soon.”

“I couldn't wait when I heard you were back,” she said into his shoulder. She could feel tears in her eyes, but whether they were from joy or her rose-cold she did not know. The coarse linen of his coat rubbed against her irritable nose and she knew he'd been travelling for a long while in the garment. Whatever damnable particles caused her to react so violently to the outdoors seemed to cling to his jacket and she pulled her face back, nose wrinkling as she struggled to get into her beaded back.

“James,” she stammered, trying to pull further away. “I'm sorry, I--ehhh-TSGHTT!”

She was unable to get her handkerchief in time and settled for turning her face away from the present company and sneezing into her wrist. She felt the gentle press of his hand as he withdrew his own handkerchief and offered it to her. She had no choice but to take it and she sneezed into it loudly, with a sound that make her blush to be heard.

Hurhh'TSGCHHHTT! Ehh—hehh-TSGHHT! James' hand rested on the small of her back as she bent fully in surrender to the attack.

“Do you need to sit?” he asked gently. She nodded, feeling faint as the sneezes tore out with vicious energy.

Ehh-TSGH! Nh'GHT! TsGHTT! GHXHTT!

She stumbled into the waiting armchair and fitted desperately, tears streaming from her swollen eyes.

“My love,” James whispered, crouched at her side. “My dear heart. You poor thing.”

She took a shaky breath, managing to stop sneezing long enough to look at him.

“I'm sorry,” she said softly. “It gets like this sometimes.”

“Would you be more comfortable in our chambers? Can I ring for Mary to come and escort you upstairs?”

Katherine nodded.

“I think that's-- ehh-TSGHT!-- I think that's wise.”

He kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear, “I'll be up soon, I promise.”

Mary arrived shortly thereafter and guided the teary, exhausted Katherine back upstairs and into the safety of the bedchamber. Katherine sat on the edge of the bed as Mary gently unfastened her necklace and gown, helping her to change into her nightdress and robe. Then, with the practice of several weeks of care, Mary guided a wet cloth across Katherine's face, wiping away the gathered tears and congestion.

“That's better,” she said gently. “Why don't we get you into bed with a compress for your face?”

Katherine nodded silently, imagining the reaction of her husband entering to see such a pitiful sight. Still, her swollen face demanded it. With a mound of pillows at her back, Katherine reclined slightly in bed and allowed her face to be draped with the cool cloth.

“Rest well, ma'am,” Mary said as she took her leave.

Katherine tried to relax but the sudden attack of sneezing had congested her sinuses to the point of a dull, throbbing headache. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come before she had to face James in this condition, but no sleep came.

The bedroom door opened quietly and James slipped inside. He sided up to the bed and gently removed the cloth from Katherine's face.

“Hello,” he said quietly.

She blinked open her eyes.

“Hello.”

“Don't you move one bit,” he said, leaning in and kissing her lightly on the lips. “I'm going to dress for bed and then we'll talk.”

She watched through half-lidded eyes as he removed his suit and shirt, revealing familiar olive skin that made her curl her toes with the memory of its touch. He put on a lightweight pair of pinstriped pyjamas and came to sit on the bed at her side.

“Now,” he said, reaching out and curling his hand into hers. “That's better. I missed you.”

“I missed you,” she repeated back. “I wish I was in a better state to say it.”

“Any state is fine so long as I'm here in this room alone with you,” he replied with a grin. She felt herself blush at his boldness.

“May I?” he asked, reaching for the covers to pull them back. She nodded and he slid back the quilts, gently gliding his hand down the length of her leg. As he reached the edge of the fabric, he curled his fingers across her skin, sliding the nightdress up.

Katherine's breath quickened and she coughed softly.

James turned his leg up over hers, coming to sit straddling her lap. He leaned in to kiss her and she returned the kiss briefly before pulling away.

“I want to,” she said. “But my nose is so clogged...I can't breathe.”

“I know,” he said gently. “It's okay.”

He kissed each cheek and then her forehead and her chin and down her neck, pausing to nuzzle his nose against her breasts before continuing down. He pushed the fabric of her nightdress up further and parted her legs, touching her briefly with his fingers. She almost objected, fearing her was about to enter her too suddenly, but instead he lowered his face and his tongue slowly stroked across the rise of her. She made a sound of surprise and heard him laugh.

“Just relax,” he said.

A sensation rippled through her unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She spread her legs wider, pressing eagerly into his touch. He increased his speed and she could not help but make a sound as her body responded to him. Her nose, so clogged and irritated, began to shift and clear. And then, like a wave, a sensation hit her so strongly that she gasped and her arms trembled.

She went boneless, giggling as he raised his head and looked at her.

“Any better?”

“I might need a handkerchief,” she said, blushing as she pressed a wrist to her newly-streaming nose. “But yes....better.”

[flowerflamestars]

Fate and Fervor

PART ONE  PART TWO  PART THREE  PART FOUR  PART FIVE  PART SIX  PART SEVEN  PART EIGHT

For the first time in five centuries, Cassian watched the sun rise over mortal lands.   Raw as a new recruit he let the blizzards frigid wind breathe its secret’s around him, nearly so cold as his mountain home. Pink and blue, the world was superficially still in this hour before people began to move, but still here Cassian was, looking for something.   Nothing he could name or place, but Cassian trusted his instincts above all else.   There was something here- Not the something that resolved itself from the shadow of an open door to twist into the body of his brother, but the look on Azriel’s face gave agreement to Cassian’s  wordless tension.   Az ruffled his own hair, crossing the room in two strides and making a face that managed to silently convey he disagreed strongly with Cassian’s need to have every single window- four, imported glass every one, this room alone worth more money than he wanted to think about- to lean on the other side of the threshold where Cassian sat, between propped open balcony doors.   “Amren raided the hall of records- twelve Archeron generations.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. Six in the morning and Azriel already sounded exhausted by the surprises and sisterly infighting. “Can you believe she didn’t know? Fey would think having royal blood didn’t matter.”   His brother’s lips twitched. “It does explain a few things.”   The wind twisted around them, silent to ears not Illyrian, keened, keened keened- somewhere, some thing, fire without flame. Cassian let his head thunk back against the door. Nothing here was as expected.   Not just Feyre’s beloved and difficult sisters, or Lucien Vanserra in the heart of things, but this estate. Lavish, but-   “You catch the double wardings?” Cassian asked.   Azriel sighed. “Everywhere. This whole damned place is a blood magic deathtrap.” Respect was heavy in his tone, and Cassian could understand it. Lucien had to have brought himself to near death to put the wards in place. A Courts heir, high fae, bleeding for two mortal girls.   Illyrians also had a long history of protecting what they loved at any brutal cost.   And here was a far more dangerous world than Feyre had described; not desperation and cold waiting for them, but magic and secrets in their place.   “How’s the border?”   Cassian sometimes forgot how remote Az could be in company. A messy youth of laughing when the other option was despair had grown into a silent expressiveness that still made Cassian grin.   As he did now, watching Azriel’s whole face twist in a near-comical horror. “Blown to shit,” He ran a hand through his hair again, pulling on the curls. “No, Cas, it’s gone.”   “Tamlin hasn’t?..”   With perfect silence, Az stepped around the sprawl of Cassian’s body in the doorway, pointedly clipping one wing with his hip. He followed, snow immediately drifting in his hair, landing featherlight on Cassian’s bare shoulders.   The view was uninterrupted by anything so spartan as walls or coverage, the house a defensive nightmare. Just long sloping lawns and gardens broken up by magic rich, absurdly dense patches of forest. He’d hide Illyrians in those trees, have to rely on surprises and traps.   “Straight shot less than a league from here to Spring,” Az tilted his chin toward the dark and snowy forest, “Archeron land goes right to the Wall.”   What had possessed humans to build, to live, so close to the cursed thing?   “The borders down, Feyre’s sisters have been here this whole time,” Cassian didn’t like the odds, half wanted to go over each of their sprawling magical traps himself. It wasn’t, couldn’t be safe here. “Is Tamlin that afraid of Vanserra?”   Az shook his head. “He was dying, when he came here.” Cassian didn’t have to ask for explanation; secrets and history were the ken of Azriel in their every shape. “The magic at the border wasn’t a fight, he shattered it. Walked on foot through the woods, burning so hot it went to the bedrock, stopped half dead there.” He pointed with one scarred hand to a snow-buried rose garden.   “They saved him?”   “Something happened,” Az replied, “Something made him live.”   Cassian recognized the tone, gave into the urge to drum fingertips on the iced over railing. “Something like being the son of a high lord, or something like Rhys keeping Feyre alive?”   “I can’t tell,” Azriel admitted, with a grimace.   The wind sang around them with that phantom scent of fire, something, something just beyond reach. Cassian didn’t ask if Az could hear it too. —- The breakfast room was a masterwork.   After an hour of talking that turned to plans to slowly letting themselves be utterly savage at the very idea, much less the reality of syrupy, utterly untrustworthy charming Rhysand, the eldest Archeron sister’s had come downstairs.   The empty house benefitted them. No maids to watch and try to help as they hauled in new furniture, no footmen insisting they could carry the vast rug the sisters dragged in between them.   No eyes to see where they stored the family secrets.   Nesta rolled out the thick carpet with one hard kick of a dainty foot, and huffed. “If he lies to our faces I’m going to stab him.”   Elain, comparing fine porcelain patterns with each hand, snickered. “Even if he does, Feyre will want to know why.”   “I think,” Nesta said, utterly even, “She’d believe his word over ours.”   Elain didn’t throw down the plate, but she was later grateful this particular pattern, covered in silver stars and ever-blooming poison flowers like an alchemists eden, was charmed against breakage as it slid to the ground.   Nesta was a perfectly straight pillar, staring down at the plush green and purple pattern beneath her feet. Trying to hide the full scope of her hurt, even from Elain. High walls and grace and rage- but underneath it the largest heart of them all.   It had gone unspoken between them, that they’d silently imagined Feyre in their number again someday. The things they’d done- building her spaces in the house, signing her name for the Councils seal: a Lord Archeron might technically always be in legal charge, but it’s beneficiaries were his three, precious daughters.   Nesta had made sure of that.   Their father would never pass them the title- but everything else was theirs: Feyre, Elain, Nesta, the last of their storied bloodline.   A home, a place, a fortune. All Feyre’s whenever she should want it.   Their land was dangerous too, growing more worrisome every day- but they’d missed their sister. They’d broken laws too numerous to count to stay safe and powerful, to maintain a corner of the world she might one day live in with them.   Elain crossed the room to take her elder sister’s hand. The triplicate strand of pearls that lived on Elain’s wrist now that their home was full of fae had to have been cold, but Nesta didn’t flinch. “Feyre loves us,” Elain said, softly, “I don’t know what she wants now, but it had to have been her idea to bring the High Lord here.”   “A reckless, stupid idea,” Nesta grumbled.   Elain laughed, “So stupid it’ll probably get us killed. But she’s home.”   The laugh was what made Nesta look up, her shining eyes so completely like their mother’s Elain savored the sight. She’d been taller, her blue grey gaze more metallic and the fine boned cheeks she’d blessed them all with more inclined to smile; but Nesta was utterly the child of their most beloved parent.   “If we die, we’ll die together,” Nesta sighed. “Do you think that if you kill a High Lord you can really steal the power?”   There was just enough dry humor in her voice for Elain to laugh again. “We could test it on Beron.”   Nesta ran her hands down her skirt, flaring the fine faery velvet to shake off ash and dust. They’d dressed for conquest together, every inch rich merchants daughters. “We’ll be beat to it, I’d imagine.”   They would be, Elain was sure. Sorcha, who deserved her revenge the very most, would have it. Already had in some way- stolen essential, ancient power, given Lucien back a part of his birthright Elain couldn’t fully comprehend.  Nesta had spoken wryly, but the furrow between her eyes returned. They were thinking the same thing; wouldn’t say the Lady of Autumns name aloud in these spaces now shared with a Shadowsinger. Couldn’t speak to each other of what was to come even alone, in their newly invaded house.   Like Elain, Nesta believed in an absolute form of justice.   Beron was going to die.   Unbidden, lean brown lines returned to the forefront of her thoughts. Lucien’s clever hands- that Elain should not be letting herself long for- riven with burns at the touch of that crown.   Autumn-born, but cast out. Power. A chance, revenge, the war to come- they had plans for it. Plans upon plans: for if they could hold the estate, for evacuation and weaponry. The three of them together took care of separate spheres, but Nesta held the most in her head.   Elain didn’t wonder how far they’d have to go; there was no too far, not to keep their family safe.   Even if they had to be kept safe from the very people their sister had made a family of. - Cassian counted windows and clear views, walking on silent feet behind Feyre through her families home.   Even motion was a struggle, the third shift of his wings loud enough Azriel was looking at him. It wasn’t the luxury- not the quiet or beauty of this place putting him on edge. Not even the conflict- coming here was a bad idea, and he knew it.   Cassian didn’t even know what he was looking for.   Until Feyre swung open yet another beautiful door, and Cassian stopped breathing.   Bathed in bright morning light of a wall-sized window, Feyre’s sisters had beat them to breakfast. Arrayed in finery, at the head of the table sat Nesta, steaming porcelain cup in her hand so fine Cassian could see through it.   How he made it from the doorway to the seat at her right hand was a dangerous proposition- Cassian didn’t know how. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but the deep steadying breath was a mistake.   The pearls in her hair alone were worth a fortune.   He wanted to dismiss her beauty, the vanity as it juxtaposed with things Feyre had said. The sister whose heart was an ocean, vast but unconquerable. The same sister who hadn’t protected her.   But Cassian was too much himself, too long a dearest friend to Mor to dismiss any woman based on appearance.   Not braided in to show off the shining darkness of her hair, but affixed loose to the ends of pins like water drops. The pearls moved when she did, a chime through the still, tense air Cassian wasn’t sure anyone else could hear.   It wasn’t a question he’d ask.   Cassian wanted- he wanted to stop staring at her. Wanted her to look back at him so badly he’d bitten a hole in his cheek, the copper tang of blood not enough to forget the smell. He wanted an excuse to get up from this lavish power play of a breakfast table, to have a reason to walk past her again and catch Nesta Archeron’s scent.   Velvet and pearls and ink- past that, herself: fire, mixed with the cold tang of high mountain air.   It was intoxicating. The ink she’d scrubbed from her hands didn’t show, but it complimented completely that raging smell, like a tundra forest fire. Cassian could tell too that she was armed- knives under that velvet dress, a stinging scent that could only mean ash wood somewhere on her person.   The danger only increased his racing heart. And then Nesta Archeron turned her pale, perfect face on him. Impossible cheekbones, full lips, sharp jaw, keen eyes.   “What,” She snarled, “Do you think you’re looking at?”   Her voice rang like a bell through his skull.   Cassian was not High Fae. Not even low fae, really- Illyrian’s were so different as to be considered outsiders to even the rest. Savages. He’d never needed anyone to explain to him what bullshit it was; but, Cassian was Illyrian to his bones, blooded and born of open skies.   He was different, and so was capable of realizing he was looking at a fellow threat.   The ash was in her hair- pins? It had to be, had it been anywhere near her skin Cassian wouldn't scent it the way he was now. The fire and iron of her rage and arms, growing stronger with the uptick of Nesta’s heart.   It hit him all at once, the commonality of this entire spread.   He couldn’t make himself look away, but there was something familiar even about the silk in Elain’s hair.   Nesta was looking at him like she wanted to rip out his throat. Beautiful- the bones of her proud face were as flawless as the pearls, paler than their sheen. Cassian, still hearing her voice in the air, only to his ears, wanted to see how close he could push her to doing it.   Her pale gaze bobbed down to his lips for a scant second, and then out. Look at me, Cassian thought, before realizing her furious eyes were following the line his wings made around his body. Black in this light, the scars hidden. Was she measuring? The out of body insanity he’d been feeling since he walked past her shouldn’t leave room for pride, but there is was, leaving Cassian light headed.   If Nesta wanted to go for his throat, she’d have to touch him. Human- her teeth were like his, bruising, not faery pointed. Her mouth-   Like a door slammed shut in Cassian’s face, every bit of Nesta dismissed him, every bit of her attention forward once more.   She smelled like fire and every fine thing in the world- Cassian was burning.   Distantly, he listened to Feyre snap something toward her oldest sister in offense, Elain’s sweet voice chiming in. In the distraction of the conversation he heard the rustle of Az’s wings, but Cassian ignored his brother’s subtle turn in question.   Without permission or a conscious plan, Cassian leaned right over the table corner into Nesta’s space, like they were the only people in the room. “You know about Sangravah.”   Nesta stopped speaking mid-sentence. She’d moved toward him, not away. This close, he could see the pulse beating in her throat, and fought not to stare like a madman. Savage, Cassian thought again, with very different bitterness.    “Do I know the Night Court was invaded, a city leveled, and within a day it’s High Lord showed up on my doorstep?” She hissed, meeting his gaze. “Yes.”   Nesta had known, and she’d laid a trap.  A brilliant jab, after Rhys’ speech about strength and the war to come. Everything in this room came from the North- imported china, but painted in the Rainbow. Night Court silver. Wall hangings, the kaleidoscopic silk of Elain’s clothes, the very rug beneath their feet: Sangravah.   Cassian had seen with his own eyes the smoking ruin Hybern had left of half the city.   “I had no idea the merchant network worked so quickly,” Rhysand drawled mildly, sipping tea like they were having a casual discussion.   Cassian had the quicksilver thought of smashing his fist into his beloved brother, trusted High Lords face.   The Archeron sisters were not going to be handled.   But Nesta was still looking right at him. Cassian knew that expression on Illyrian faces- a predator that had smelled blood. She was good, too good. After all, he’d fought with Rhys for a full day about this particular direction: bringing danger to Feyre’s human family, taking the war over the Wall prematurely if things went sideways.   They were her sisters, it was ultimately her call. That didn’t mean he had to agree with it.   How did Nesta know?   “The families,” Nesta said, matter of fact and deadly, “Lost good sailors to the fires. When the stone burned, the water did too.” Feyre had opened her mouth in horror, but Nesta plowed on. “If we can’t keep people safe in your land, what makes you think we could provide for you safe haven to hide from your war?”   Cassian wanted to reach out and touch her.   “No one,” Rhysand said, “Is hiding.”   Feyre leaned around his wings, mouth twisting. If she took note of the electric bubble of space Cassian had accidentally created and Nesta had taken over with sheer rage, it didn’t show. “We’re sure father couldn’t have been on any of the ships? He wasn’t there when it happened, right?”   They were so close a pearl hit Cassian’s nose as Nesta’s attention snapped left, the back of her braid stabbed through with a pin long enough to double as a dagger. A faery killing dagger, gleaming ash wood- Cassian couldn’t have backed away if the room were on fire.   “Feyre,” It was Elain who sighed her name. Resplendent in pink and pearls of her own, she showing a whole different face than the woman who’d stabbed Azriel yesterday. “Father is not working the trade routes.”   Feyre shook her head, already glancing back at Rhys, “Can we find out for sure? Send someone in case”-   “He’s in the City of Gods,” Nesta said, flatly. “Or he was a year ago, getting arrested for gambling debts. I doubt he got much further.”   Feyre’s face crumbled. A scream would have drawn Rhy’s attention less quickly, and Cassian himself hated to see her hurt, but he was busy struggling to breathe. If he’d been less close the sorrow that emanated from Nesta would have been hidden. Anger was one thing, an unholy terror in her rage, but-   But the urge to rip apart whatever had hurt Nesta was overwhelming. It rattled in his veins, terrifying to even himself. What was wrong with him?   “I’ll find your father, wherever he is,” Rhys promised Feyre is a low voice. She leaned into the touch of his hand, blue eyes over-bright.   Late, too late, Cassian caught Elain watching him. He knew she was armed too, under all that silken beauty. She was softer than her sisters, a gentle ghost in Feyre’s stories. Giant eyes and winsome dimples seemed to only reinforce that vision- but she’d stabbed Azriel. Loved and absolutely trusted from her every gesture one of the most dangerous unaligned faeries in Prythian.   Twisted her face in an expression of total wickedness that belonged on Feyre’s face to raise brows at Cassian- at the lack of space between him and Nesta.   Cassian sat back in his chair, clenched hands hidden by the table.   Not fast enough to miss the impossibly quiet rattled sound of a breath leaving Nesta when he moved. Not a bit of it showed on her face- for all that Cassian could smell sadness, a cool unmovable rage, beautiful to see, was all that reached the world.   A queen, riven of ice and pearl.   The next youngest might have been flounced like a princess, but Cassian couldn’t imagine she wasn’t just as controlled. Courtier and queen then- quick poison and vengeful crusade, hand in hand. Feyre had failed, on a cataclysmic level, to describe her elder sisters.   They should have seen it coming- an impossibly young human woman who’d freed them from Amarantha. She’d come from somewhere, for all that most days she seemed more like a sister, a friend.   Instinctive deep breath burned his lungs with Nesta’s scent all over again. If he pulled on that murderous dagger, would the whole thing unwind? He wanted with a stark insanity to know how long her dark hair was. Could he fill both hands with its softness, breathe in her scent?   Cassian hadn’t missed it when he’d scooped her out of the fight the day before. But her fear had clouded everything- a fear of him so complete and overwhelming he’d felt sick- left no room for the wildness that pounded his skin- and then of course, all he’d smelled was his own blood.   “Fey,” Began Elain, her deceptively soft voice carrying, “Father has made it clear he doesn’t want to be involved. We can send sailors to check on him, but it would be easier to plan if you told us why you’re here.”   He wondered how old they were. From Feyre’s stories, Cassian had been sure Elain was the youngest. But old enough to wed- old enough to be entangled with Lucien bloody Vanserra- and Nesta was clearly an adult in her prime.   The Cauldron-gifted savior of Prythian was the baby of the family.   And making a guiless younger sibling face that made the long-scarred wounds where Asteria had lived ache. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”   “Bullshit,” Nesta snapped.   Cassian bit his cheek again to stay silent, mouth twisting without his permission. She was a nightmare- a beautiful nightmare that wasn’t going to let this already messy plan come together without a fight.   A small noise had escaped Elain- not even censure, tiredness? Before the two older- he was sure of it- Acheron’s were meeting eyes in a silent understanding that scrunched Feyre’s face into a scowl.   “You both think that?”   That they exchanged glances once more before Elain tried again was enough to audibly set Feyre’s teeth.   “You can always come home,” Elain told her, staring down the table with it’s gleaming crystal and china, utterly sincere. “You have a place here with us, no matter what, Feyre. But”-   Nesta interrupted, hurt buried from her voice but not Cassian’s senses, throat burning at her pain. “You let us think you were dead. If not for Lucien, we would have no idea what happened to you.”   “And,” Elain went on, like Feyre didn’t look like she’d been slapped, like Rhysand wasn’t staring at Nesta with a thunderous, barely contained danger, “We understand these are very dangerous times.”   It was all wrong- Cassian had fought against this plan on the basis that mortals over the Wall killed faeries, killed those who associated with them. It was still the greatest danger here, but how thoroughly had they misunderstood what they were walking into?   These women were already involved in their own way, all the more in peril because of it; they weren’t going to be able to contain this situation, they were only going to make it worse. Cassian was going to make it worse if he didn’t get a hold of himself, if Rhys kept looking at Nesta like that.   It was an effort to be still, to stay silent. Every instinct in Cassian’s body was telling him to move: to reach out and find some way to soothe that raging pain in Nesta Archeron, who he’d known all of a day, to put himself bodily between the bright flame of her mortal beauty and the anger of a High Lord. His brother- who would never-  Despite the overwhelming tension in the air, Feyre scoffed. “How did Lucien know I was alright?”   Trapped at the corner of table Cassian got the full view of Elain’s eye twitching before her whole face smoothed.    Nesta had no such compunctions. “I believe he was somewhat aware of whatever has put that crown on your head.”   Moonstone today- like a distant echo to Nesta’s shower of pearls. Cassian knew damn well what Rhysand was doing, giving his emissary a crown, but Feyre didn’t. Equal parts marveled and self-self-conscious at the splendor, she’d refused- not ready or too stubborn, he didn’t know- to look at Rhys’s affection for what it might be.   With a long, slow breath, Rhys finally set down his tea cup. “We’re not here for refuge. The tragedy at Sangravah was not the first attack, nor will it be the last. We need to call on old alliances if anyone is going to survive.”   Silken- not gentle, there was the voice of the woman who could love the lost heir of Autumn- Elain breathed, “Human alliances?”   Feyre nodded, and Cassian wished there were some way to stop her before she went on, painfully earnest. “I’m the emissary of the Night Court, I need to speak to the Council of Queens. If they’ll listen, help, we all might have a chance. Hybern won’t stop”-   No one had to explain further, as Cassian imagined few people ever did speaking to Nesta. The look on her face had been icy, now she might as well have breathed frost. “And you’re High Fae, so you cannot set foot in the sacred palace. You want to bring the Council of Queens here?”   Breaking his silence with clear regret already on his face, it was Azriel that answered. “We have been unable to infiltrate the council. It’s a deathtrap, to our kind. It might only be safe to engage here, on mortal land.”   “It’s a deathtrap for a reason”-   “Hybern,” Rhys cut in smoothly, “Has been preparing for this war for millennia. The king aims to take this entire continent, and there will be nothing to stop his march into mortal countries. If we cannot band together now, we’ll fall, one by one.”   “No,” Nesta growled, a nearly-faery noise. “No. Hybern has declared war on the Night Court, I will not let you bring that violence south.”   “It’s the only safe way,” Feyre said, voice cutting. “I just need your house, just for a few days. The message is sent. But we should plan together. We’ll keep you out it, keep you safe, Rhys can”- Not Nesta, who’d stood from the table to yell all the better, but Elain, her pale cheeks drained of color who didn’t let her younger sister finish. “What do you mean, the message has been sent?” Feyre, Cassian thought, you didn’t. One hand on Rhysand’s forearm, Feyre raised her chin. “I invited the Queens here. We don’t have time to argue, they’ll have the message by nightfall.” — Elain had told herself not to be surprised by her younger sister’s actions anymore.   One High Lord, two High Lords- the Lord of nightmares and shadows- breaking a curse older than all of them, fighting monsters, becoming fae.   Nothing had truly disappointed her before this moment. Feyre, who wanted so badly to do the right thing, who was trying to protect her new family: but who would protect them? Their vassals, their land, the fragile, infinitely valuable legacy of their blood that Elain and Nesta had lied and committed treason to hold onto?   She’d been right- Nesta had been right.   There were a hundred moving pieces before them: the household staff, who’d return in a day, if that when the blizzard ended. Their vassals relying on them- the extra gold and food they provided in winter, the orphanage full of children who had no idea how dangerous or precarious their world was. The Crown of Autumn in a hatbox, the slight of hand involved to keep their ships sailing and their goods sold.   Her engagement ball, the invitations sent. Lucien’s safety, Sorcha’s plan. That the war starting might be here- that those battles wouldn’t have a chance to kill them if the Queens decided to take their lives themselves, as was their legal due.   Elain needed to breathe. To think.   All she could do was look at her sister- not Feyre, not now- at Nesta, and understand the sorrow, the anger that spooled between them.   Trapped, once again.   Elain didn’t realize she’d risen until her skirt snagged on the chair, stopping her progress to Nesta’s side for a split second before the dark-eyed shadowsinger to her left freed it with an inclined head.   Later, she would think about how this court- family, so clearly a family- didn’t seem to agree either.   But first she rounded the corner to take Nesta’s hand. Shoulder to shoulder, they wouldn’t flinch. She wanted Lucien.  Colder than the ice gathered at the windows, Nesta’s voice was clipped. “You invited the entire Council of Queens to meet the High Lord of the Night Court, under our roof?”   Before Feyre could answer the hulking Illyrian who had been staring at Nesta like she were both miracle and doom interrupted with that whiskey warm voice of his, “Feyre, you didn’t ask?”   Nesta didn’t look at him, didn’t move her focus from the High Lord whose unnatural gaze was on them both, but Elain felt her hand, hidden by their skirts, spasm.   Humans had told stories of his kind for generations. The true of heart, warriors whose honor was life, whose promises were magic, who protected the innocent at all costs. Myths, surely, but this was the Commander of the Legions.   Honor was perhaps something they could lean on.   “We don’t have time to fight,” Feyre insisted, a transparent lack of understanding on her face, “Hyberns next attack could come at any time. I can do this, we can do this.”   Smoothly, the Lord who they feared even across the sea nodded, spread his hands in a very human gesture of compliancy, wrong to behold. “I know that you don’t trust me, don’t know me. But please believe I won’t allow any harm to come to Feyre’s family.”   Feyre’s family- their fate’s bound together inescapably.   Elain had had more than enough assurance for one morning.   She didn’t need to look to know Nesta felt the same, to guess from her thrown back shoulders and rigid body that Nesta wanted nothing more than to be out of this room. Time to think, to plan, to be alone- but she wouldn’t, couldn’t back down from the fight.   And Rhysand wasn’t done.   “We’ll shore up your defenses, guard your home for as long as needed. Feyre’s letter is the first real message we’ve gotten to the Queens, but our interests align. We”-   Elain shook out the heavy woven silk of her skirts, rainbow shimmer settling under her steady hands. Ignoring the whole lot of them- winged warriors, Feyre’s confusion, Rhysand’s false straightforwardness, she turned to Nesta. “Tea?”   Nesta cocked her head, in step, the graces that served them again and again. “Of course, I’ll see you this evening.”   Time then, she needed time as well. And long enough for them to wait for Lucien.   Elain addressed the room at large, like Rhysand hadn’t spoken. “Please do enjoy the comforts of our home. The kitchens are stocked, if not staffed, and the library is down the hall. You’ll find extra clothing in the scullery and more firewood in the closets of all the greatrooms. Avail yourselves to whatever you need, we’ll see you tomorrow.” “Elain”-   Nesta made it to the door first, holding it open for them both before the satisfactory slam rocked the entire wall.   In low tones, Nesta asked as they reached the stairs, “Do you know where Lucien is?”   Elain shook her head, “He was talking about checking on the outlying farms.” Nesta sighed, on the step above as they’d been braced to head in opposite directions. “Later,” she said again, reaching out quicksilver fast to squeeze Elain’s hand again. “We’ll figure it out.”   She managed to smile in return before stumbling down the stairs, fast enough to trip. It was longer way outside, down twisting marble and across the grander spaces of the house, but Elain still managed to pull on her fur cloak and step out into the crisp, bright world before she had company.   She strode into the snow regardless, ducking around the house on slick stone paths, cold clear air her greatest companion.   “Elain,” It was Feyre, of course.   For a half moment, Elain contemplated just ignoring her. When they were children, truly young, the only thing that made Feyre angry was to lack for attention. It wasn’t normally a problem; even at their most desperate, their father had affection to spare for his youngest, precious daughter.   It would be almost fair, she’d ignored their qualms, the very circumstances of their lives.   But no, Elain was better than that. No matter what, she’d missed her sister and there were things that had to be said.   “Elain,” Called Feyre again, sliding into step beside her on those longer faery legs that Elain couldn’t get used to. Always gangly, little Fey now moved with perfect, silent grace. “You can’t refuse to plan with Rhys because of the letter. We need the Queens to”-   Gently, gentle as she could manage, Elain interrupted. “The problem isn’t Rhysand,” She said, trying and hoping Feyre would actually listen. If Nesta had this talk with her, it was going to end with screaming. “You wrote that letter, Feyre.”   Familiar and still utterly different blue faery eyes blinked widely a her. “I was,” She stumbled over the words, “I was a human and now I’m fae, and the emissary of the Night Court. The best choice to write to the Queens.”   Five steps from the haven of her solarium, Elain stopped walking. “Feyre,” She said again, and this time she couldn’t hold back the anger in her voice. “You wrote the letter. You signed it with your own name too, didn’t you?”   Feyre stopped too, set her feet wide and stubborn.   Through the glass, Elain could see her orchids blooming. If she made it to those doors, there’d be no Night Court. Just soil and moss only she’d ever touched. Potted lemons blooming, the air warm and moist, some actual damned quiet- but she had to have this talk.   Elain sighed. “Rhysand, none of them know any humans. Not in recent history, anyway,” Feyre opened her mouth as if in protest, but Elain held up a hand, “You grew up here. You know the punishment for associating with faeries in this land is death, Feyre.”   No one cared the original Acheron fortune had been built on the back of wrangling a deal with a faery smith. That even now, Nesta, under the auspice of their father’s authority, kept faery bargains on the continent.   What mattered was this: the wild land along the Wall had no ruler. It belonged personally to the Council of Queens, but with true governance more than an ocean away, human lords- whose estates might as well have been tiny kingdoms, for their absolute power- had to keep the peace. Faeries came over the Wall- not faeries of the continent, whose gated kingdoms and vast reaches had always interacted with humans in some way- but faeries of Prythian who played by different rules.   Killing. Stealing maidens in the night. Hunting humans like prey.   So the highest echelon of Lords, Flatha and Tiarna, petitioned the Queens they traced their own bloodlines back to and it was written into law: death, usually at the hands of your very own liege, at the word of your neighbors.   Human slow, Feyre touched Elain’s arm. “The meeting will stay secret,” She told her, wide eyes sincere, “There will be Illyrian’s to guard if anything goes wrong, and Rhys will keep you and Nesta safe.”   Lucien, markedly, was not included in the count to be protected.   All at once, Elain was exhausted. She didn’t want to be angry. Not at her naive and beautiful sister, all of nineteen years old, who’d fought and died and been transformed. Little Feyre, a true hero, who’d always had a good heart.   Tired too, that for all that goodness, Feyre really thought Elain was afraid for herself.   “You signed it Archeron,” Elain snapped before she could stop herself. “Just because father bankrupted all of us doesn’t mean he ever stopped being a lord. Ua Flaithbertaig, Feyre. These people lived without a leigelord for a generation, we’ve only begun to fix things. They will be punished, we will be punished.”   “When the Queens meet with us, they won’t punish you for being present.” Feyre said lowly.   “If they meet with you, Feyre!” Elain found herself shouting and stopped, breathing out her nose. She’d been wrong; maybe Nesta should have had this conversation- maybe she’d have been sharp enough for Feyre to take her seriously.   “Nesta is not Banfhlaith, Fey,” Elain tried very hard to say evenly. “She can’t petition for clemency. Lucien is living under a false identity- there’s no one to protect us, no one who can intervene.”   “But Rhys,”-   Not for the first time, something prickled in Elain’s palms at the sound of Feyre’s familiarity with the High Lord of the Night Court. There was more there than a bargain, whatever that binding tattoo meant. Feyre loved him.  Elain knew she didn’t mean harm, wanted to trust her sisters new friends- but that was just it.   They were new- foreign and horrifically powerful. Good intentions wouldn’t protect human lives in a violent game that had spanned centuries.   “Rhysand,” Elain managed to say normally, calmly even, “Is not going to stop a war with an enemy that held him captive for a half a century to protect three hundred human vassals who have nothing to do with the conflict.”   The stubborn set of Feyre’s stance had become kinetic with anger. “Nothing?” She shouted back, flawless immortal hands flung into the air, “War is coming. People are going to die, Elain. During the last war”-   She sounded just like Nesta, when she was angry. But then again, Nesta never talked down to Elain. “The last war was almost six hundred years ago,” Elain snarled back. “The Queens hate the High Lords, Feyre. Our country is allied with the faeries of the continent, humans live in the Glass Mountains, go to university in the Weeping City- the world has changed.”   “The world changes, but you don’t, right?” Feyre said, brittle with anger. “You have Tamlin’s riches, so you get to play lady again.”   Elain had a hundred reasons Feyre was wrong- that without a leigelord, an Archeron in power, their people had nothing. Bound to their ancestral land without protection. No divorces, no founding of new institutions, they couldn’t even pick new crops to grow on estate land without their lords word. With their father out of power, they were trapped- and forced to pay the crown tax individually, more than twice what the estate under Elain and Nesta took.   The fiefdoms of their slip of human land weren’t fair- but the sisters were lucky enough the Queens had never awarded the ancestral Archeron lands to anyone else. Their father might not have given a damn, but the least they could do was try to make things better.   But none of that came out of her mouth as her sister kept speaking. “What’s the plan? Say the war never comes. What, you’re really going to marry Lucien? Lie to everyone. Let him pretend to be your human husband for a hundred years until you die?”   When Nesta was younger, she used to panic. It would crash over her, hold her fast in it’s grip- she told Elain it was like a vise in her chest, all the time, but sometimes it squeezed so tight she couldn’t breathe. The world went white.   Elain had promised her to help hide it- for Feyre to never see- but she’d vowed to herself to find a way to hold Nesta’s hand when the world tried to crush her.   The world was white now.   “Get out.” Elain said, colorless.   Surprise visibly interrupted Feyre’s anger. “What?”   Elain didn’t pause to say it again. She started walking, those last five steps strangely light, as though the ground were further away. But two of her steps was one of her sisters now.   “Elain,”-   “No,” Elain said, refusing to look up, lest Feyre see her burning eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. “What’s done is done. Whatever danger is coming, I’m not going to face it having slapped my own baby sister.”   The brightness of the icy day dazzling her eyes, Elain lurched away and into those safe glass walls. Humid heat and the smell of smoke hiding behind green growing things wrapped around her like an embrace. Lucien had laid some magic over this place, kept her plants safer even than the expensive glass provided. I’ll have to thank him, Elain thought, the orchids lush before her.   But she passed their shelves, went all the way to that back until she was screened from the outside world by potted palms, and sank to the stone floor.   Twenty five.   Elain was twenty five years old- how long would it be before she looked older than Lucien? Three years, six years, ten years? How could she know how things would progress?   He’d never mentioned leaving. Seemed, not just as his human guise, but in those quiet moments that were Lucien and nothing else, to perhaps love the land the same way she did. He might change his glamour with time- human faces change- but Elain knew the real ageless beauty. He belonged here with them.   She didn’t know how she would change.   They had to survive- it wasn’t all a lie, hadn’t ever been, and maybe, maybe, if they lived, Elain would make sure Lucien knew it. — Despite the moonless night, Cassian found Nesta Archeron outside.   He’d resisted all of ten hours.   He shouldn’t have gone looking for her. That he knew- there was no way she'd come out into a dark and frozen night for company. In fact, Cassian wasn’t sure Nesta liked anyone’s company.   But he couldn’t talk himself into staying away, anymore than he could get her burning scent off the back of his tongue. Like something had possessed him, Cassian couldn’t stop tasting it on the air. Even in the sky overhead, his lungs burned with mountain cold and raging fire. Like home.  Nesta didn’t make sense to him.   The older sister who’d failed to protect Feyre. The wrathful pillar of ice ready to challenge a High Lord without a trace of fear. The woman who seemed determined to go down fighting- not just for her sisters- but for every single human in these lands.   The spitfire who’d broken his noise, and come back for more.   She looked at him like he was dirt beneath her boots- and Cassian couldn’t stop thinking about her.   So like the Cauldron damned masochist he was, Cassian found himself waiting in a dead garden, struck dumb by the play of false firelight over her relentlessly beautiful face.   Magic- of course- Vanserra’s raw power intermingled so deeply into the Archeron’s land that it was beginning to take on small characteristics of faerie. Will-o-whisps were old Autumn magic- and inclined to lead mortals and faeries alike to their death in their original form. Those bouncing around the Archeron’s dormant garden seemed more interested in the roses.   Or perhaps the woman sitting beside them.   “Is it common Night Court manners to sulk in the dark?” Nesta asked, back to Cassian as she faced the sky.   “It’s not a good time to be alone at night.”   Nesta remained silent. The will-o-whisps drifted closer, painting red over the old gold of her hair. Cassian fought the urge to smack one away from her fragile mortal form.   An itch was starting his veins-  familiar dismissal in her silence that seemed to reach right down inside him. What was Cassian doing? This woman didn’t need- or want his attention. Cassian liked fighting, but that didn’t mean he needed to take a few extra kicks to the ribs.   He was just rocking back, silent even on the frosted ground, when Nesta turned to look up at him.   One eyebrow rose. Cassian fought the urge to tuck his wings tight and shift, to lessened the impact of his sheer size standing over her. He settled for crossing his arms.   And there was the other eyebrow, gods damn him.   Her voice had razor edges. “Why hasn’t your High Lord told my sister they’re mates?” High Lord rolled out of her mouth like a curse, briefly catching him before Cassian caught up with her words. What? “What?”   It wasn’t that Cassian hadn’t guessed the same thing. It wasn’t even that the rarity or the impossibility- the ten thousand childhood stories that clenched beneath his sternum to damn him with the very word mates- but Nesta had known Rhys for two cauldron damned days.   “It effects her just as much, Feyre should know why there’s a crown on her head.” Nesta had continued.   Something about her- gods, that face- the sharp tilt of chin, that she still hadn’t bothered to rise, the unremitting aggression in her tone that left no quarter- boiled the blood in his veins like this was a spar he’d have to fight to win. The battles he actually remembered.   She looked even better without the gems and pageantry. A sword unsheathed, ready for devastation.   “You don’t,” Cassian began, locking on eyes whose color he’d lost in the dark. “Get between a male and his mate. You won’t like the consequences.”   That had Nesta shooting to her feet. Blue- her eyes were blue. Cassian could see it in the will-o-whisp fire now; lighter than Feyre’s, dawn rather than high noon. He’d been closer to her this morning. Now, alone, it was a world of difference to breathe the same air.   “I wouldn’t want to be between Rhysand and anything,” Nesta spat, face up to meet him, “But Feyre deserves to know.” How was she so small? Petite- Cassian couldn’t call her delicate with that gaze that wanted to set him on fire. But she barely, hardly, came up to his shoulder, and that didn’t seemed to concern Nesta one bit. She’d stepped right into his space. Aggression- not violence- dominance. Nesta Archeron fought like a faery.   No, a gods damned Illyrian.   “They’re not”- Cassian tried to say, but Nesta cut him off.   “Am I wrong?”   Horribly, suddenly, all Cassian wanted to do was laugh. She wasn’t wrong at all, and he’d bet his entire fortune she rarely ever was. He swallowed it down to a smile, but Nesta saw enough for her eyebrows to spike high once more.   “Mates are rare beyond measure,” Cassian said, before she could interrupt. “But it’s not instant. Permanent, but the bond takes time to snap into place.”   Time to find, if you were Illyrian, equal parts damned and lucky as he was.   Her quick, clever eyes were following the gesture of his hands- Cassian was grateful for half a heartbeat before he paused, and that beautiful gaze was back on his face.   “If- if- Rhys is feeling the bond, but it hasn’t snapped into place for Feyre, then he’s probably trying to give her time.” Nothing about Nesta’s face changed, but the tilt of her head leveled. “Mate bonds aren’t- they’re resolute, completely.” Cassian didn’t have the words- or the desire to tell Nesta- that he thought Rhys was being an idiot. That Feyre needed all the information to choose. But he could also understand his oldest friends fear. Rhysand would take the rejection, no matter what, no matter what it did to him. He had only feeling, not the song on the wind to lead him. “And this is really none of our business."   And Nesta laughed. “When she finds out in the middle of a war zone and tries to throttle him, it’ll be our business.”   Again, Cassian agreed with her. He’d didn’t think it would be a real rejection- anyone with eyes could see how in love they were falling. Gods, he’d had to live with it, both of them set off like sparks every time the other entered a room.   Feyre was going to be furious at being kept in the dark.   But he couldn’t admit that. “Is violence how all human women show their affection?” Cassian found himself drawling. He’d leaned down into her space again without realizing it. The fast beat of her heart- ash still bound in her hair- the light of her eyes- Cassian could take an awful lot of violence.   She smelled like a storm. “Or is Vanserra just that lucky?”   Not just a storm- lightening, as her eyes flashed. Cassian wanted to take back the words immediately, but some stupid impulse kept him frozen. He could feel his pulse in his fingertips, in his wings.   For all that Cassian was drowning in the sweep of rage like so much heavenly fire that had driven him from skies time and and time again, Nesta smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know, General?”   She turned without another word and swept away, will-o-whisps following, to leave Cassian in the dark that rang with her voice.   His hands were shaking. What was the gods damned point?

@breath-of-sindragosa

@flxwer-petals

@ladyvanserra

@illyrianinterrasen

@missanniewhimsy

@tntwme

@ourbooksuniverse

@pitterpatterpot

@thestarwhowishes

@abillionlittlepieces

@my-fan-side

@the-eightofswords

@wonderland–memories

@ourbooksuniverse

@cohen-theeleven

@donnarosemary

[lightanddarklove]

Steven Universe Future - Prickling Doubt and Burnout - Chapter 2

This was written before the finale was posted and has been up on my A03 since March. I don't know if I have more to add at this point, but I definitely have more ideas to write for SUF & SU.

Another Chapter with a bit more comfort. I think In Dreams and Bismuth Casual refreshed me so I hope that you all like this chapter as much since its less angsty. Those last four before the finale though, woof. I think we could use a bit more lightness right now, with thing still being stressful in the meetspace.

Some cat sign language and terms for you in case any of it’s confusing since Lion does make an appearance: head-butting is a sign of trust and bonding for felines, chuffing is the forceful exhale of air through a cat’s nose that sounds like a grunt or sigh but is actually a greeting, and the slow blink cats do is sometimes called a cat kiss and is another sign of trust and attachment.

3513 Words | Rating: Teen [description of an injury and swearing, self-esteem/ self-doubt and mental health issues]

Chapter 1 | My Writing Masterpost

Steven awoke from his nap only a short while after he had laid down. He didn’t have any intention to get right back up immediately, as Cactus Steven’s interruption to his sleep had broken before dawn and it was still early in the day. He had probably got about 5 hours of sleep before his nap, and based on the light coming in the room he had dozed for less than an hour. He didn’t have the urge to check his phone, it hadn’t woken him up and he was still quite tired. He found himself staring at a blank square of wall between his desk and his closet, trying to rest, but sleep would not come. He mentally debated getting up for several minutes before he heard a soft but weighty thump on his glass door. He turned over slowly. Peering at him from the balcony was Lion, looking expectantly at Steven. “Hey buddy,” Steven called, sitting up. He stretched and stood as the big cat pawed gently at the entryway. “I’m coming.” Steven crossed the room and opened the door, stepping aside for Lion to enter the room. The pink feline strode in, brushing the boy along the chest with his huge skull in an affectionate head-butt. Steven moved his hand along Lion’s mane as the big cat walked behind Steven and sat on the floor. Lion let out a friendly chuff and Steven scratched gently along Lion’s cheek and behind his ears. “You done exploring for now?” Steven asked. Lion stared down at his charge before giving a slow blink and descending slowly to the floor near the stairwell. The big cat stretched out his rear legs before tucking his front paws under himself to lie comfortably and closed his eyes.

“Aww, love you too, Lion.” Steven said, giving him a pat between the ears before moving to the other side of the room to retrieve his phone. He unlocked it and shut off his alarm, which was due to go off in 10 minutes before checking his messages. The one new text he had was not from Connie, as he had hoped, but instead from Pearl. “Garnet’s gone out but Amethyst and I are here if you need anything,” it read. When he went into his message to Connie, it noted delivered, but not read. He closed the app, disappointed. He set the phone back down to his end table and grabbed a new pair of jeans from the dresser, quickly getting dressed. After pocketing his phone, he looked around his room. Pink sandals sat near the foot of his bed from where they had been haphazardly kicked off after he had laid down for his nap. The bloody apron he had stained earlier lay in a heap on the floor. The few unused fabric strips from his attempt to deal with his injury sprawled from the edge of the bed to the floor. The corner next to his desk shone pink from the glow of his bubble where he had sent the terra cotta shard, dried blood staining its surface. The cactus flower he had sat on the floor before he began vacuuming still was left in its place next to the tv stand.

Steven ran a hand through his hair. He walked to his shoes to slip them on, picking up the fabric strips as he went and moving toward his desk. He opened his drawer that held scissors, glue and construction paper and folded the strips on the desk before putting them inside, closing the drawer softly. He picked up the bubble in the corner, holding it gently in his hands. I wonder if my blood would actually do anything to a plant. He thought. Maybe it would become like a super guardian. Steven’s voice of reason chimed in, sounding almost exactly like Garnet and Connie speaking simultaneously, don’t do it, that’s how the plague starts. He took out his phone again and searched “How to get blood out of Terra Cotta” before setting the bubble on the bed and moving toward the closet.

He retrieved his jacket, setting his phone on the tv stand before putting the letterman on, and regarded himself in the mirror. The bruise above his eye healed when he had applied the healing spit to his face, but that did not help the bags under his eyes. I need to wash my face and put on my eye cream, Steven thought. Besides the tiredness showing under his eyes, and needing to bush his hair again, he looked modestly put-together. No cuts from fighting Cactus Steven were visible and his outfit was in order. Nodding at himself, he picked up his phone, and slipped it into his pocket. He stepped around Lion who lounged comfortably near the glass door, and walked down the stairs. As he went, he noticed several bags on the landing which had a note sticking out of it. It looked like food, so he was glad Lion didn’t immediately stick his face in it and kept a mental note to listen in case Lion decided to help himself while Steven was downstairs.

On the main floor of the house, Amethyst was seated on the kitchen floor and Pearl stood by the kitchen island. Pearl was deconstructing the microwave on the empty stretch of countertop closest to the temple door, and Amethyst had a modest pile of faucets she was comparing with the sink’s pipe connection, trying to find one that would fit. Pearl turned and smiled at him as he came down the stairs. Amethyst glanced up with a nod and greeted him with a quiet “hey,” before returning to her task.

“Oh Steven,” Pearl called, “glad to see you’re up. Are you feeling ok? I went to check on you earlier and I saw you had fallen back asleep.”

“I was still kind of tired but I couldn’t sleep anymore, so I wanted to grab a drink and finish my morning routine,” Steven answered.

“Well, even though the sink is not fixed yet, there’s the water pitcher in the fridge.” Pearl replied. “That hasn’t sustained any damage, according to Garnet. She went to get glass and lumber for the repairs.” She paused and her smile shifted to something more strained as she glanced quickly to his hand and then back to his face. “How does your hand feel?” Pearl asked gently, with worry clear at the edge of her expression.

“It’s healed,” he replied, unbending his fingers and quickly showing it to Pearl. He left his palm exposed for only a few seconds and then curled his fingers closed, his hand pulled back to his side in a lose fist.

“Hmm,” she replied. “Alright. At least it’s not bleeding anymore. It still doesn’t look fully recovered.”

“Well it doesn’t hurt anymore,” Steven said, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. “It’s not worth worrying about. I heal fast.”

“Ok, Steven.” Pearl answered. Steven approached the cabinets and retrieved a glass before walking toward the fridge. Pearl moved back to the microwave, sparing the occasional glance to Steven’s movements as she continued her task. Amethyst looked up at him from her pile of faucets as he grabbed the water pitcher from the fridge.

“How’d you get that cut on your hand anyway?” Amethyst asked, and Steven nearly spilled the water he was pouring out of surprise. He took a sharp inhale, trying not to look at her as the pink spread over his cheeks.

“I fell,” he replied. “I was cleaning in the dome and there was a piece of broken pottery on the floor. When I went to brace my fall my hand landed on it.” Amethyst winced in sympathy. He returned the pitcher to the fridge and sipped from his glass, impatient to finish the conversation.

“Ouch,” she answered, looking him over and Steven couldn’t help but feel nervous. “If you want some help with the dome-“

“It’s fine,” he interrupted with a wave of his unmarred hand. “I’ll be more careful. Just got unlucky that I happened to land on a broken pot. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Okay,” she answered, sounding unconvinced. He gave an uneasy smile.

“If you could do one thing though,” he requested.

“Sure, what’s up?” She asked.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom to wash my face,” he replied.

“Walk, don’t run Steven,” Pearl quipped from over her shoulder as she worked as screwdriver on the microwave.

“Peeaaarl-“ He drawled at her with an eye-roll. Amethyst chuckled quietly. Steven continued, “Anyway, Garnet left some food on the stairs and Lion just came back a few minutes ago. Do you mind making sure he doesn’t get into the bags? Also, please save me some if you have any.”

“Yeah sure,” she answered with a shrug. “I’ll wait until you have some to have a snack since it’ll probably be late until all this is fixed up.”

“And please don’t eat my soup in the fridge,” Steven said as he set his glass on the counter. “I’m saving it for later.” Amethyst gave a thumbs up as Steven walked toward the bathroom and she returned to her pile of faucets. He closed the door behind him before seeking out his face wash and eye cream from beneath the sink. He ran the tap to a warm temperature, wetted his face and applied his facial cleanser before rinsing again. With practiced and gentle taps, he put on his eye cream and grabbed his brush as he let the skincare product do its work. He ran the brush through his curls, undoing the tangles from tossing and turning in his sleep. After he was satisfied with his hair, he rubbed the eye gel into his under-eyes and rinsed the excess from his fingers. He gave himself another once-over in the mirror.

“Not too shabby, Steven,” he said quietly aloud. His stomach grumbled in response. “I should probably eat something before I brush my teeth.” He opened the bathroom door and strode out into the living area. Amethyst was affixing one of the faucets to the sink-head with a wrench and Pearl continued her work on the microwave as he moved back to the kitchen to grab his drink. As he turned to head back to his room, a familiar voice came from the steps outside.

“The front of this place looks like a couple of Topaz just barreled through it.” Bismuth said as she came through the hole in the wall. “What happened to it to make it look so Janked?”

“Bismuth, language!” Pearl shouted, and Amethyst snickered.

“Hey Bis,” Amethyst called.

“Ya’ll said it needed some fixin’ but dang,” she responded, not acknowledging Pearl’s admonishment. Bismuth’s eyes wandered around the room for another moment before focusing on Steven, who had stopped mid-way through the living area. “So what’s shaking, gems? Is whatever did this-“ She paused as her gaze fixed on a point on Steven’s person that caught him off guard. Her voice dropped in volume and rose an octave in pitch. “Is that blood?”

Immediately, he glanced down at his outfit, not noticing anything at first. He used his free hand to stretch out the fabric of his shirt and his gaze finally caught the dried speckle of dark red that dotted the black tee where his right shoulder met pectoral. The spots were barely noticeable in the distinction of color, but several of them were quarter-sized. “Oh, I hadn’t noticed it stained my shirt,” Steven replied. “I’m fine now.”

“Is the threat neutralized?” She asked darkly, shifting her fist into a mallet. Pearl approached from the kitchen.

“Yes, Bismuth,” she replied, striding past Steven and laying a hand on Bismuth’s forearm. The burly gem shifted her hand back to normal.

“How’d you even see that stain, anyway?” Steven asked quietly, straightening his shirt back.

“During the war, gems weren’t the only ones fighting for earth’s freedom.” Bismuth answered. “Rose somewhat reluctantly inspired a lot of humans to fight by her side.”

“There were many who loved her, and believed in her cause,” Pearl added. “She hated seeing them hurt but there were many that wouldn’t stay away from the fight.”

“It wasn’t pretty,” Bismuth said. “Guess my eyes just trained on it since sometimes that was the only way to tell if a human could be saved. Stood out on the aftermath of the battlefield, that’s for sure.” Bismuth got a far off look in her eye and Pearl gripped her hand, snapping her back to the present. “You sure you ok, Steven?” He managed a tense smile.

“Yeah,” he replied quickly. “I cut my hand working in the greenhouse and it made more of a mess than I thought. Don’t worry about me.”

“Alright,” she said. “Well, this house ain’t gonna fix itself. So what’s first?” Amethyst stood from kneeling at the sink and walked toward he taller gems. “Amethyst, you said you got parts in your room?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “I probably have some sink basins in the junk piles. Could be some other good stuff too. Follow me.” Amethyst and Bismuth walled toward the temple door. Pearl moved towards the kitchen and gently rested a hand on Steven’s shoulder.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything, Steven” she said as the other two gems disappeared into the temple. Steven nodded as Pearl moved away.

“Oh, ok.” He replied. He walked up the stairs and grabbed the food bags as he went with his free hand. Lion appeared to be sleeping but once Steven set the food on the bed the crinkle of plastic caused the cat’s eyes to open. Steven set his water cup on the nightstand and sat down on the bed. After changing his shirt he turned his attention back to the bag. He pulled out Garnet’s note first.

“This is all the food that doesn’t need preparation or refrigeration we have right now. If you want hot food, call Fish-stew or ask Greg to use the microwave at the car wash. Ours isn’t safe to use right now.

Love, Garnet” he sighed as he read aloud. He dug around in the bag and immediately lion was at his side. He pulled a granola bar out, sat the snack in his lap and bubbled the rest of the food.

“Not for you,” he said to the feline. “I’ll get you Lion Licker later, ok?” Steven unwrapped the packaging on his snack and forced the bubble up, drifting toward the rafters and out of Lion’s reach. Lion head-butted Steven’s side again and the boy ran his free hand through the big cat’s mane as he ate. They sat in contemplative quiet Steven finished the granola bar. With a light toss, Steven threw the wrapper in the trash and took a sip of drink. Lion regarded him as he set down his glass, before Lion turned and moved towards the door.

“Going back out?” Steven asked as he stood. The pink feline waited by the door and Steven slid it open. Lion took a few steps out, his front half on the porch and rear half still in the bedroom before stopping. He turned his head and looked back at Steven. “What is it?” Steven asked. Lion set his hind leg closer to Steven, nudging him gently and giving another slow blink. “I guess I don’t have anything I need to be doing right now, if you’re trying to tell me you want me to go with you.” Lion chuffed in response and stepped out of the doorway.

Steven stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. He sent a quick text to Pearl, “Going for a ride with Lion, be back later.” After returning his phone to his pocket he mounted the great cat. With a roar, Lion charged forward into a portal and the swirling blur sent the boy and his feline familiar to a dark field.

Steven’s eyes took barely any time to adjust and he recognized that he was on a floating island above the Strawberry Battlefield. Stars still shone in the sky as the moon hung overhead and below the lip of the floating isle’s edge he saw some dusting of snow on some of the unflowered strawberry plants below. Lion laid down quickly and rolled the young man off of him unceremoniously.

“Lion,” Steven scolded. The big cat adjusted himself so he had Steven’s shoulders along his flank and rested his great head on his front paws. Steven moved to sit up but Lion stretched his hind leg across Steven’s lap, preventing him from going anywhere. “If you just wanted me to lie down with you for a while we could have done that at home.”

The big cat huffed in response and closed his eyes. Steven let out a quiet groan as he realized without really pressing the issue, he likely was not going anywhere soon. He retrieved his phone from his pocket, quietly thanking his foresight to ask his father for International data as he checked his messages. Pearl had replied, “Ok, be safe.” He opened his conversation with Connie which had a timestamp as Read 8:23am, but no reply yet.

I hope she’s not mad at me, Steven thought. If she’s mad or worried because of me I don’t want it to mess up her presentation. His gaze trailed up from his phone and he looked to the stars shining overhead. He noticed many constellations he recognized, a few that he didn’t, and perhaps it was because he wasn’t usually stargazing at the right time of evening to catch these star patterns. Predawn light came in gently from the east as he watch the stars shift across the sky. The sound of Lion’s heavy breathing and the mild breeze were the only sounds as he watched stars fade and the sunrise shine onto the eastern horizon. He brought his phone back up from lap after the colors began to dance across the sky and snapped another picture for Connie. He added the caption “We should watch the sunrise sometime together when you get some free time. I didn’t even have to be up early to see this one.” After the sun crested the skyline, bathing the field in light, he began to nudge Lion’s foot with his knuckles.

“Ok, that’s enough forcing me to sit still for hours.” Steven pestered the big cat. Lion let out a huge yawn and slowly sat up, stretching his front paws beneath his chest. With one more nudge from the young man, Lion removed his foot from Steven’s lap. “Ugh, my legs fell asleep,” Steven said with a groan as he stood. Lion approached the edge of the floating island and turned back to his charge. “Let’s go, Lion.” Steven instructed, mounting the cat. Another huge roar ripped through the quiet and the pair charged through the portal returning to the beach-house.

----------------------------

Steven spent the bulk of afternoon doing more cleaning, including getting the bloodstain off the terra-cotta shard, repairing the damaged sheet with Greg’s sewing kit, and washing dirty laundry. Having a sandwich for a late lunch between his other tasks, he headed out to go grab dinner at Fish Stew Pizza. He kept up appearances, making small-talk with Kiki as he got dinner. He drove out to the edge of town to get groceries, and found himself not wanting to go home as the sun set.

Connie had messaged him earlier, letting him know her presentation was fine, and they went back and forth trying to set up a time on a future weekend to watch the sunrise over strawberry battlefield. They settled on two weeks from now, which felt far away, but he understood. Her studies were important, after all. He couldn’t whisk her away on a whim, as much as that’s what his heart desired.

On his ride back from the grocery store, he felt the pull of Brooding Hill and took the ride there to finish his meal and watch the sunset. After about an hour, Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl found him there, staring out into the ocean.

“I thought we’d find you here,” Garnet said with a warm tone.

“You hadn’t come back in a while, and you didn’t answer when I called,” Pearl murmured.

“Yeah, my phone died,” Steven replied, not looking toward the gems.

“Everything ok?” Amethyst asked. Steven hummed in response. Pearl stepped forward with a strained smile, hands fidgeting.

“Room for three more?” She asked. Steven didn’t answer immediately.

“Actually,” he said, tone quiet and hesitant, “I think I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Oh,” Garnet said, seeming caught off guard. Pearl’s smile dropped and she stepped back.

“Ok,” Amethyst said, breaking the silence, curling her hand into her hair. “We’ll be back at the temple if you need us.”

“Yeah,” Steven replied. “See you back there.” The gems retreated, expressions dejected as they left the teen by himself. He watched the sunset until the sky was dark and wandered back home.

[straydog733]

Watching Resolution: “Steven Universe: The Movie”

11. A children’s film: Steven Universe: The Movie

List Progress: 9/12 (+11)

I have taken a very circuitous path to watching the animated Cartoon Network show Steven Universe; I love it, but only when I’m in exactly the right mood and headspace, so I am far more likely to watch in bursts than consistently. I finished the main series, the five seasons running from 2013 to January 2019, but didn’t get around to watching the feature-length film which came out in September 2019. But when a epilogue mini-series, Steven Universe Future, ran from Dec 2019 through March 2020, it caught my attention and I binged it. So I go into Steven Universe: The Movie having watched the show on both sides of it, an unfair place to put a piece of media. That might be why my feelings are a bit more conflicted on it than if I had just watched it after the original series.

It should be noted that Steven Universe: The Movie is not for newcomers. While there is some recap at the beginning to remind everyone where the series ended and introduce the audience to the world of the two-year time skip from the finale, the characters and plot are heavily based on the original five seasons of development. This even ends up being the new villain’s method of attack, reverting the hero team the Crystal Gems to their original mindsets and reversing their years of growth and progress. Even the set-up of the movie involves a large number of secrets that were teased out slowly and gradually over the course of the series, and having them first spoiled here could lead to a very different way of digesting the show. If you are interested in this series, which I highly recommend, I would say start at the beginning. And if the sillier aspects of the first season aren’t your thing, I would recommend you skip to “Steven the Sword Fighter”, one of the earlier tastes of the tone the show will grow into, and a good barometer for whether you will like it as a whole.

Spoilers for the movie.

So for everyone who is familiar with the show, it’s great to see Steven as an older teenager, comfortable in the post-Diamond world that has been built. The higher animation budget is on full display and the music is lovely, as this show so often produces. But Steven Universe: The Movie left me a bit cold, because it feels like we are retreading ground we have covered a lot before, and without the deconstruction of Steven Universe Future that will make it feel fresh and new.

Spinel, one of Pink Diamond’s old playthings from before she became Rose Quartz, has realized how completely she was left behind, and comes to Earth to lash out at Steven and his friends. I was not a huge fan of Spinel’s 1920’s inspired animation style, but I respect them trying something new with this new character, setting her so completely apart from the status quo. My issue is that the series proper already had a fantastic conclusion built around Steven paying for the crimes of his mother, and I don’t see what more Spinel adds to this dynamic. The only real new element, the portrayal of how Pink treated her subordinates as well as her peers, is covered more fully and somewhat more believably in SUF’s Volleyball Pearl. I can understand Pink lashing out in a moment of rage and hurting Volleyball, or being prevented from returning and rescuing someone, like the people in the Human Zoo, far more than I buy her purposely abandoning someone who loved her unequivocally. While the story of Pink/Rose has always centered on showing the flaws in a mythologized hero, this feels like a step too far in the other direction.

Then once we get to Spinel’s arrival to Earth, it just raises a lot of questions. While I buy the Rejuvenator as a Gem construct, turning rebellious Gems back to their factory settings, it seems like a big deal for it to have never been mentioned before (as well as a weapon that you think would have been deployed against the rebellious Rose Quartz). Despite the fact that only a day or so seems to have passed between Steven’s message and Spinel’s arrival, she has time to get a Rejuvenator as well as a super Injector the likes of which we’ve never seen before, with no real explanation. Why did a princess’ pleasure garden have a weapon of omnicidal proportions available? And if this is not a special type of weapon just from the Garden, then why are the other Homeworlder’s so baffled by it? The Injector drives the ticking time clock of the movie, but its origin is confusing enough that it drew me out.

Back on the note of repeating plotlines, Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl each have to explicitly repeat their original plotlines in order to progress, which feels unsatisfying for a feature-length film. None of it is bad, and I did enjoy seeing the original Pearl, and the implication that Amethyst is so strange because she had no one to copy when she first came out and had to rattle around by herself for thousands of years. There are actually a lot of great things in the film: Bismuth getting to sing, the reveal of Steg the fusion, a cameo by Aimee Mann, and a lot of really beautiful animation. 

But at the end of the day, everything in the movie feels like it had parts that were done better elsewhere, either before or after. If I want victims lashing out through their grief, I’ll go to Lapis. If I want Pink betraying a trusted friend, I’ll go to Volleyball. If I want Amethyst, Pearl and Garnet to grow, I’ll go to the original series. If I want Steven to find that he can never have a true “happily ever after” and that he will keep growing and changing his whole life, I will go to Steven Universe Future. I do respect that SUF probably couldn’t have gone as fully into darker territory without the transitional space of the movie, but it’s probably not one I will return to much in rewatches.

Would I Recommend It: For a dedicated fan of the series, yes, but I don’t think it is Must-See in order to get Steven Universe.

Note: Though I have lived in California for the past five years, I am originally from Minnesota, south of Minneapolis. If you like my writing and would like to give back, please consider donating to organizations such as North Star Health, helping communities fight back against police violence.

[kxhnum]

Rhiannon groaned as her back slammed against the hard wood surface of her penthouse’s floor. A roar of frustration soon followed after and she slammed her fist into the ground with a bit too much force. Her blow left a crater in the ground the size of a watermelon and she swore to herself, shaking her head in annoyance. 

“Great, levitation is a bust and now this.” She muttered. “Another fucking disaster made by me that I have to fix.”

You are still learning to control the power you wield. Your outbursts of anger are also doing nothing to help your current situation.

A bitter smile found its way onto the redhead’s face upon hearing the familiar voice in her mind and she lifted herself off of the floor. “Yeah, well the extra boost I’m getting from you isn’t much help either. You’re the one who started all of this anyways.”

Untrue. You have always held this power inside of you...you simply do not remember. Something has...

Rhiannon’s smile vanished upon hearing ‘Onaga’s’ voice go silent. She was still getting comfortable with the name her mind’s unseen companion’s name. Despite being tethered for about three weeks, it was only a few hours ago that the information had been shared with her. Their initial greeting had not gone over very well and things had been strained ever since, only now were the two of them beginning to find common ground. Their exchanges were at first nothing less than aggressive and accusatory but now that time had mellowed their emotions, the women found they made wonderful company for each other. 

But there were so few things that could make Onaga lose her voice. Everything about her personality radiated confidence and regality, prompting Rhiannon to wonder just who she had bouncing around her mind. Where did she come from? What was her home like? What did she do for a living? Did she have family? Were they anything like her?

Onaga’s soft chuckling soon echoed in her ears. All of questions are giving me a migraine dear.

“Well, can you blame me? I’m just curious about you... I mean, I don’t even know what you look like.”  That is easily fixed.

Making a face, Rhiannon clutched one hand to her hip. “What do you mean?” 

You have a mirror in your boudoir, go to it.

...................

To do this, you will have to relinquish control of your body to me. Are you comfortable with this exchange?

Shifting on her heels, Rhiannon gazed up at her reflection. Her shoulder length red hair was a tad messy from their earlier exercises and surprisingly she was still in her professional attire. A black pencil skirt, frilly pink blouse and eight inch black heels, her prized Louis Vuitton’s, hell even her pink pearl studs were still embedded in her ears. There was something about her eyes however...rather than their usual warm brown, there was an edge of green inside them. Onaga’s energy inside of her perhaps?

They had only just met, but oddly her new companion made her feel...safe? Almost as if nothing could harm or conquer her. Rhiannon did not truly know if she could say that she trusted Onaga, but they were certainly on the path to getting there. 

Rhiannon?

Nodding quickly, the redhead met her own gaze. “Yeah.” She insisted, shaky out all of the jitters in her stomach. “Sure, lets do this...just be sure to give me the reins back when you’re finished.”  But of course. 

There was a sharp throb inside of her mind and without warning Rhiannon felt like she was floating. She couldn’t move a muscle in her body because her body was gone. Nothing remained save for her senses, the most vibrant of which being her sight. She was still standing before her dresser, staring at her reflection only now...her eyes were foreign. Rather than the usual brown hue greeting her in return it was a stunning emerald green.

Onaga?

Her face smiled and if at that moment she had possessed a spine, Rhiannon was certain a shiver would have raced over it. How strange it was to watch your body and move and react while having no real control of any of it. 

This is strange. How do you go on living like this inside of me? Living inside of me like some sort of passenger?

“Because I am a passenger, your body is your own...if anything I am trespassing and you are getting off track.”  Rhiannon snickered, noting how despite being in control of her body, Onaga still retained her own voice. Uncomfortable as this state was, the businesswoman found that her curiosity was outweighing they doubts.  “Watch.”

The redhead obeyed without a second thought, eyes focused on Onaga as she took a breath. It felt as if her mouth was suddenly on fire and when their lips parted, a sea of steam left her and fogged the mirror, obscuring their reflection. Rhiannon watched in awe at the complete control of power and continued looking on as her own hand drew a strange sigil on the glass. Onaga uttered a string of words to herself and then suddenly the intense throb began once again. Before long Rhiannon was once again in her own body, sighing in relief and letting her hands roam over every inch, as if to make certain nothing had vanished or altered.

Her eyes lifted to the mirror and a stunned gasp hit the air. It was not her own reflection that she found looking back at her, no it was the visage of an older woman. She was much taller than her, much more matured and glowing with an ethereal radiance Rhiannon couldn’t quite understand. Her long dark hair billowed in the air around her almost as if she were underwater. A white gown clung to her surprisingly toned body, torn and tattered yet still remaining on her frame. 

“Wow...you’re beautiful.” 

Onaga’s reflection began to laugh and the redhead felt something tug inside of her chest. She’d never seen her smile before, only heard her laughter, she realized. 

That was hardly the reaction I was expecting, but thank you. 

“It’s weird, watching your face and how you react. Why can’t I see you all of the time anyway?” 

Well, then I suppose you’ll be happy to know that this spell will last for a few days. I’m not entirely certain why you cannot see me, honestly it’s strange enough that I cannot fully possess your body. 

Rhiannon frowned. “I...should I consider that a good or bad thing?” 

It’s wonderful for you, not so much for me, though the more we coexist with one another, the more I enjoy this merging. Onaga seemed to note the concern on her face, and smiled almost reassuringly. You need not concern yourself with my intentions. 

“Yes, I should. Even if you’re benevolent, you can still take control of me whenever you’d like to.”  True, but your spirit overpowers mine, it would not be difficult for you to regain that control and expel me on your own. Hence why I do not just try and forcefully control you. 

Rhiannon cracked a smile, chuckling and nodding. “Hm...both reassuring and frightening.”

And it is only the beginning child...we two have so much to learn from one another. 

[feminarrie]

Niall, a bottle of whiskey, and a drill. use that and write what you will. I want to see what you come up with!! (also you can take your time with this)

kate! once again, thank you for challenging me with this! it was fun to figure out just how i wanted to go about this, but i’m happy with what i’ve come up with!

i’m putting it below a cut bc it’s just 3k+ of smut (it is also unedited sorry!)

As she looks out at Niall, Y/N can’t help but think how utterly domestic the scene is.

It’s midsummer and the California heat was approaching a dry 100 degrees. She had ditched her shirt in favor of a bikini top and a pair of light wash shorts atop her bottoms. She’d even spent the better half of the morning in the pool with Niall. But, as it neared one in the afternoon and the peak temperature of the day, she had gone back inside to cool down and to prepare lunch for the both of them. While Niall had slipped out of the pool and wandered to the patio, where a new patio set is still sat in pieces.

She looks outside at him now, through the kitchen window, as she washes and peels a carrot. His back glistens with sweat as he attempts to line up a metal pole with another piece of the bar that they had bought just a few days ago. They’d offered to assemble it upon delivery, but Niall had insisted that he would be able to put it together. She hadn’t argued it, either. Especially considering that they were on their way out for a scheduled date night.

She’s glad Niall had decided to put the furniture together. Especially when she see the way his broad back tenses when he moves this way or that. Droplets of sweat drip down it and highlight every movement.

The way his arms look now, as he uses a drill to join to pieces together, surpass sinful. With every movement, his biceps flex and Y/N can’t help, but think about how they feel when he’s fucking up into her. Like they had this morning, in the comfort of their air conditioned bedroom. When her back was pressed to his chest and the backs of her thighs and ass bounced in his lap. His arm had wrapped around her middle while his other hand was wound around her throat. Hitting her at angles that she didn’t think were possible.

There’s a different heat that’s building, now. An internal heat that still has sweat developing on the back of her neck and at her hairline despite the heavily air conditioned kitchen. It settles into the apples of her cheeks as continues to prepare their lunch. 

Which, it really is a miracle that she’s capable of finishing all the preparation and plating it by the time Niall walks in. She’s even managed to grab the bottle of whiskey from the top of the fridge without asking Niall to retrieve it for her. She pours it over the ice in a short glass, watching as it melts the cubes just slightly. She hopes he’ll like all of it, too. Niall is usually one to drink beer or water in this kind of heat, but she figures that a small glass of whiskey is a treat for all the hard work he’s doing. Plus, it forces him to slow down enough to enjoy the liquor and cool off for awhile. 

Y/N can see the sunburn that has begun its assault on his shoulders. The already tan skin has turned a shade of pink that holds a future of promise of blossoming into a shade of red if he’s outside for any longer. “Whatever you’ve made smells delicious, love.” Niall hums, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head as rounds the corner of the island.

“Thank you.” She grins, leaning upward to receive the peck that Niall has stopped to give her. “Go clean up and I’ll have the table all set when you come back.”

Niall nods and leaves after another peck to her lips.

Y/N busies herself with setting up the table. She places a smaller bowl of salad between two plates of greek wraps. It’s nothing too fancy, but she hardly thinks that Niall is keen on having a hot meal after he’s come inside. Even if he was, she absolutely did not want to be overheating while cooking up a warm meal for him. So, she figures it is more likely a win/win situation for the both of them. Niall returns shortly after she’s set herself down to eat. He’s in a pair of deep blue gym shorts and nothing on top. As he comes to sit down next to her, she can see the freckles that have begun to develop along the expanse of his shoulder and back. Unlike his sunburn, they will likely fade within the next few days. 

“Thanks for lunch, Y/N.” Niall says before his eyes land on the chilled glass of whiskey. “And for this. How’d ya know I was cravin’ something stronger?”

“Figured you would after being outside for most of the day.” Y/N shrugs as she answers. Their conversation dies down after that, both of them being too busy with eating to speak. Especially Niall, who goes back in for a second helping of salad. And Y/N lets him because she knows he’s probably built up an appetite.

“I’ve just got to put a few more pieces together and then I’ll be done.” Niall says after Y/N asks him how much longer he’ll be.

“We’ll stay inside after that then, yeah?” She suggests, hopeful that Niall will want to stay in for the remainder of the evening. “I’ll order takeout for us, if you’d like.”

Niall nods, drying off his hands after having finished washing his dish. Y/N lets the rest sit in the sink for now, her mind having drifted to the idea of having a cool shower while Niall finishes up outside.

He kisses her once more on the cheek before stepping out into the yard once again. Y/N paces herself in heading upstairs into the master bathroom. Grabbing her phone from the coffee table so that she can listen to music while she’s showering. She’s even more eager because she’s got a killer playlist that she’d been adding to for the past few weeks.

But, she’s also got other things on her mind as she makes her way upstairs after turning the temperature down just a little bit more. 

The images of Niall were shoved aside as they ate. She was starving and in that moment, her appetite had far outweighed her desire for Niall. But, now that she had a clearer head and a shower awaiting her, she couldn’t help but to conjure up those images again. 

She’s sure he would be too tired to do much of anything anyway. So, she sees no harm in getting herself off while he put the final touches on their patio furniture. Especially seeing as she doesn’t know how long he will be and Y/N has never been one to be patient about these types of things. 

Before long, she’s come to stand in their shared master bathroom. The heated floors don’t feel quite so warm beneath her feet, but she is still aware of the heat that they exude. Their toothbrushes occupy one marbled cup set between two sinks and white, plush hand towel hangs just slightly over the edge of the dark countertop. Two more navy blue towels hang over separate bars that sit next to the shower. There’s still droplets of condensation against the glass, likely from Niall’s shower earlier that morning. 

Y/N strips after she’s turned the shower on and found a happy medium between too warm and too cold. She kicks her shorts and bottoms to the corner of the room, closer to the laundry basket. Her top is flung in the same direction moments later. All the while, the sounds of her playlist bounce off the walls of the spacious bathroom. 

A soft sigh leaves her lips when the water hits her front. It’s enough of a temperature difference that her nipples pearl and to give her some relief from the high temperatures outside. Her sun kissed skin drinks the moisture as she allows it to wash over her for a prolonged period of time before she turns around. 

She reaches for the bottle of cherry blossom and citrus scented soap that lives on the middle left shelf of the tiled shower. Her other hand reaches for her own loofa that hangs from the shower handle. Once she’s put more than enough of the soap on it, it’s only a matter of seconds before it has begun to lather. Y/N hums along to Postpone by Catfish and the Bottlemen and she nods her head along with the beat. And she’s fully enraptured by the song until she’s reached between her thighs, the soap leaving a soapy lather that drips down her thighs as the water drips down from her back. Where she simply can’t help herself from switching the loofa from her dominant hand to the other.

The pads of her fingers dance over her already slick folds, gliding with ease as she teases herself. She reaches down to slide her middle finger from her entrance to her clit, letting it stay there and adding just a slight amount of pressure. Enough to heighten the stirring in her tummy, but that’s it. She teases herself for awhile. Eventually letting the loofa fall to the floor so that her other hand is free to roam her body. It eventually settles at the base of her throat and she applies just a slight amount of pressure. Her small hands aren’t as good as Niall’s, but they’ll do in the moment. Especially when she’s pushed two fingers inside herself after the images of Niall and her own teasing had become too much to bear.

Y/N is chasing her orgasm when Niall enters the bathroom after having called out for her just a few minutes before. He doesn’t need to see her form to know that either. Instead, her whimpers and occasional pants of his name can be heard loud and clear with the acoustics of the space. When he does look at her, though, it has his cock hardening in his shorts. Enough so that if she looked now, she could see the outline of it with only so much as a glance. But, she doesn’t. Her eyes are squeezed shut as one hand drops to cup her breast, a sure sign that she is close to the edge. Niall watches her as she continues to chase it, too. Her shoulders slouching forward slightly and his name like a mantra as it falls from her lips. She falls apart right before his eyes, unraveling at the seams as she cums. A final yelp of his name as her body quakes with her orgasm and her head lulls backward.

He allows her a moment to recoup and steady herself before he clears his throat. It still makes her jump, though. Which, Niall knew it would but it still pulls a strained chuckle from him.

“Fuck,” she mumbles, “You scared the shit out of me.”

It’s muffled by the sound of the shower and music, but Niall can still (just barely) make out what she is saying. “Sorry, love.” He replies, genuinely sorry that he had scared her so much.

Y/N takes in his half naked form from where she stands. Even with steam rising from the shower and blurring her vision slightly, she can see the outline of his cock. It only serves to make her even wetter. Something that she didn’t think was possible considering she can feel herself dripping down her thigh before it’s washed away by the water. “Got off thinking of you.” Y/N begins and she hopes Niall had been in the room to see what an absolute mess she was at the mere thought of him. A groan sounds from deep within Niall’s chest. Because even after all this time, the idea of her getting off to the thought of him was a nice ego boost. Plus, that thought alone was enough to have him muffling his own cries as he cums in the bunk of his tour bus when he’s been away from her for too long. Again, Y/N has hardly ever been good at being patient. So, when Niall is taking too long and absentmindedly palming at himself, she lets out a huff. She’d like to get her mouth around him, if he’d let her. Swallow all that he had to offer before they toweled off and settled in for the night. (Although, Y/N wouldn’t be opposed to another round once they’ve received their takeout). “Niall,” she whines, a pout setting on her lower lip.

“What is it that you want, love?” Niall raises a brow, his hand stroking across the length of himself as he looks at her.

And normally, Y/N is all about niceties. Even when Niall is nipping and sucking at her clit with three fingers buried inside her. Bringing her closer and closer to her climax, but not allowing her to cum just yet. When she’s frustrated to the point of tears because he could be so cruel and dominating when he wanted to be. She still repeats a series of thank you’s as she comes down from her orgasm. Too blissed and utterly fucked out to form any other words. “For you to let me suck you off.”

The statement is so simple and abrupt that it surprises Niall. His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline and he’s becoming almost painfully hard now. After that, he is quick to peel his only item of clothing off and step into the shower. The water alone could have him close to his own orgasm because it feels so damn good against his sunburnt skin. He can feel the heat radiate from his shoulders as he steps closer to Y/N, effectively putting them both beneath the large shower head.

Y/N glances up at him before trailing her eyes down to where the head of Niall’s cock is tinged pink and a light shade of purple. She bites her lip at the sight of him, eager to get her hands and mouth on him. So, she tears her eyes away to lock her gaze with him once again. He’s smirking at her when she does and takes a step closer until she can feel him pressing into her tummy. She isn’t sure if it’s the precum that has dribbled out of the slightly exposed tip or the moisture that has trapezed down both of their bodies to join together. It only takes a moment after that, that she is lowering herself to the ground. The tiles feel cool and hard against her knees, but she doesn’t mind. Not when she is eye level to Niall’s cock. From here, she can see the vein that travels up the side of it and just how much precum as bubbled up at the head. She looks up at Niall with a question and desperate look in her eyes. The doe-eyed expression makes her look too innocent to be doing such a thing, but it only excites Niall more. Especially knowing that she is more than capable of taking him in until he’s bottoming out and she’s gagging around him. “Go ahead.” Niall nods alongside his affirmation.

Y/N relinquishes her lip from the space between her teeth before parting them. He notices that it is plump and slick before it’s gone from his vision as she wraps her lips around him. His head falls back and his jaw slackens as she swirls her tongue over the tip before taking more of him into her mouth. Her small hand makes up for what her mouth can’t currently cover. And between her mouth on him and how her hand glides so easily across him, Niall can’t help but to let out a long fuck.

His eyes have fallen shut, so Y/N takes it as an opportunity to peek up at him from behind her lashes. And she’s glad she does because Niall looks like an absolute dream above her. Chocolate brown hair matted to his forehead, lashes just barely touching the apples of his cheeks, and body glistening with the water that is running down his body. She keeps watching him as she pulls off of him with a wet pop, allowing herself a moment to breathe. Her hand continues to pump up and down his length, twisting her wrist at the tip like she know he likes. He has one fist clenched at his side while his other hand is pressed to the wall beside her. His tongue darts out to lick over his lower lip and his chest has started to rise and fall with his quickening breaths.

With slight reluctance, she tears her gaze away from him. But, the feeling doesn’t stick once her lips are around him and she can feel the heavy weight of him on her tongue. Her hand holds him at the base, this time, as she slowly begins to build up a rhythm. She allows herself time to enjoy the taste of Niall on her tongue. It’s heady and salty, a familiar and somewhat pleasant taste to her. She alternates between self indulgent licks when she needs a moment to breathe and taking all of him until the tip of him touches the spongey back of her throat.

And it’s not long until Niall is ready to cum. The hand at his side is clenching and unclenching as if searching for purchase. Y/N notices it after Niall’s bucking his hips forward slightly, although he’s trying to control himself. And she knows he is teetering off the edge and into oblivion. So, she wraps her fingers around his wrist and brings it to the back of her head before placing them on his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Niall repeats, each reiteration gaining volume. “I’m gonna cum, Y/N. I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N tightens her grip on his hips, keeping him in place as she takes him as deep as she can go. And that’s all Niall needed before he’s painting the back of her throat with his cum. Y/N swallows all of it with ease and pulls off of him. Though, she’s sure to run her tongue along his slit to collect any remaining cum before she glances up at Niall. Who, like her this morning, looks entirely fucked out. And she prides herself with being the reason that he looks as fucked out as he does. It’s from her position on the floor, as she drinks in his form, that she decides Niall doesn’t just look like an absolute dream. Because a dream isn’t accurate enough to describe the vision above her. She thinks fantasy might be a better way to describe him, but she can’t be sure. Because nothing seems accurate enough.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

After End

V x MC | Gen | FIXIT FIC | I left in the bits I liked. All two (?) of them.

Also I wanna dedicate this to @jihyunkkim, who loves V more than anyone and has been excellent to rant with

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

MC’s wedding dress was as white as a snowflake and as soft to the touch as a summer breeze. She turned to admire her reflection in the mirror-once and then twice, touching her fingers to her hair.

For the first, and likely only, time in her life, she was wearing a tiara; made of silver and engraved with clear stones. It was cool to the touch but warmed her heart, a reminder that the day was hers.

Half hers, at least. She wondered how Jihyun fared in his room-if he was as excited and nervous as she was. If she closed her eyes, she could practically see him, only partially paying attention to Jumin’s well wishes and advice for the day as he fastened his tie.

She opened her dresser drawer and unfolded the letter within, rereading the vows she had spent months drafting and amending in the run up to the big day. There were so many things she wanted to tell him; so many promises she wanted to make. She knew she would not have the luxury of reciting them all, but narrowing them down was easier said than done.

Someone knocked at the door and she folded the paper again, slipping it back into her drawer without a moment’s hesitation. It wasn’t a secret, but it was slightly embarrassing.

“Come in!”

It was Jumin, dressed in a carefully tailored suit and flowers pinned to his lapel. He gave her a soft smile as he entered, so small and subtle that only those who knew him well enough might see the warmth behind it.

“Congratulations,” he said, taking in her dress and curious expression. “I’ve got something for you.”

MC wasn’t sure what else he could possibly have for her. He had already offered up the use of the grandest of his vacation homes for the nuptials.

The item in his hands was perhaps the last thing she might have expected: a single use camera, typical of her childhood, though rather unusual of late. MC turned it over in her hands, remembering the seemingly endless summers of her childhood, snapping photograph after photograph of her friends and family and waiting eagerly to see the results. She held the camera to her chest, considering how typical such a detail was of both her fiance and his best man. Her wedding might last days or even weeks depending on how long it took to gather and develop the film.

The first photo she took was of Jumin standing a few paces from the doorway as the Chois arrived with a handful of bridesmaids. The second was of Seven in his three piece suit, pretending to toss her bouquet over his shoulder, while Saeran watched in horror.

Seven made no secret of the fact that he wanted to be MC’s maid of honour, winking theatrically at the tradition of running away with the best man. Jumin flatly refused the idea and, even though everyone else found the mental image amusing, MC compromised and asked him to walk her down the aisle instead. Both twins, actually, would be giving her away. She laughed and joked that it was to stop her from escaping, but in truth she wanted them close now of all days.

It had been years since her arrival at the Mint Eye castle and everyone had changed, mostly for the better. Seven no longer worked for the agency, instead putting his skills to use at C&R, a gesture of goodwill from Jumin that has provided near constant entertainment since. When Seven wasn’t playing pranks on his boss, he was enabling his love for cat projects, much to Assistant Kang’s ire. MC wasn’t sure which was worse for Jaehee’s health: trying and failing to prevent Seven from filling Jumin’s desk with party poppers or the knowledge that even after everything, his diet was almost entirely chips and soda.

Saeran was hospitalised for almost a full year after the incident, slowly progressing from withdrawal to psychotherapy. No one could say for certain exactly how much elixir had poisoned his body, only that he spent months shivering and sweating, racked by nightmares and sick to his stomach.

The change she was proudest of came from Yoosung. He had grown so much in the past couple of years, barely recognisable as the boy she chatted to all those years ago. He was taller. Happier. He balanced psychiatric studies with volunteer efforts and fundraisers; a regular at counselling groups for the survivors of Mint Eye and their biggest advocate during their integration back into society.

He, as well as Zen, were the ushers at her wedding and both swelled with pride when they saw her approach.

“Ahhh, here comes the bride.”

“Congratulations, MC!”

“Has everything gone to plan so far?”

“Ehh, a few paparazzi here and there. Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Did...he show up yet?”

She didn’t say his name, but everyone knew who she meant.

She and Jihyun spent hours on their wedding invitations, creating each by hand. They attached lace and ribbons in the style of a wedding dress; wrote each name in careful calligraphy-no two identical, but each one perfect.

Neither Jihyun’s father nor his stepmother had responded to their invitation; something Jihyun himself claimed was for the better. Pursuing an art career had left them more distant than ever, leaving only his sister to acknowledge him as family. She replied within a matter of hours, young enough to be more excited about the occasion than any bad feelings.

She was a bridesmaid, in fact; willowy and cheerful in her pale pink gown. MC wanted to include her somehow, in return for her maturity and understanding over the past few years. Her gentle nature, in fact, was the reason MC whispered the question.

“Not yet,” said Zen, with a sympathetic touch to her shoulder. “But there’s time yet!”

MC sighed, conflicted in her emotions; closing her eyes to take in the momentary silence while realisation slowly sank in. This was it. Soon she and Jihyun would no longer be engaged but man and wife.

For the briefest of seconds, she found herself anxious, wondering if she was doing the right thing. Jihyun had been broken in so many different ways...what if she hurt him in several more? What if he fell out of love with her the moment she threw her bouquet?

MC took a deep breath, glancing down at the flowers in her arms: sweet peas, pale pink and shaped like butterflies; lily of the valley, as ornate as a pearl necklace; pink peonies, as soft as kisses. Saeran put them together for her; his love for flowers one of the only constants over the past few years. Last night he stayed in his room to arrange every ribbon.

They were as comforting as a lover’s embrace and MC let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, just in time for violin music to ring out from beyond the closed doors.

She watched as Yoosung and Zen pulled them open, revealing a garden illuminated by fairy lights.

“Wow,” she whispered, unsure where exactly to look. There was something new in every corner, from friends and family watching her expectantly to Jumin and V standing under a floral canopy that matched her bouquet. Jihyun had his back to her and stood up so straight that she could tell he was nervous. Jumin stole glances every now and then, smiling and whispering in Jihyun’s ear.

She noticed the record player last of all, as she took her first steps down the aisle. It was Jihyun’s idea to have a band, but Jumin’s to play a recording, speaking aloud the ideas that Jihyun never would. It was not just any musician; not just any song. It was a song by Pachelbel performed by a dead violinist; one who set aside her music books in unfortunate circumstances.

Her seat was in the frontmost row, with two white roses resting against the frame.

A gentle breeze caught MC’s hair as she reached Jihyun, scattering flower petals across the green. Seven and Saeran loosened their grip on her arms and she turned to her fiancé for the first time all day, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

He had flowers on his lapel just like Jumin’s, matching her bouquet and complimenting his light suit. He flushed the same shade of pink when he saw her, never once looking away even as the record player fell silent.

The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur. Seven shed several tears as they exchanged vows, completely serious for the first time all day. MC stumbled over the words, love seeping into her voice as she professed her feelings in almost unadulterated detail.

His vows were not only original but the words of a poet. He told not only MC but everyone present how long he had searched for love before her; how dark and lonely the years had been. He once believed that true love would be a masterpiece, and in many respects that was true, but he had not been able to not experience it fully until he found his own colours.

MC, he explained, was full of colours. More colours than he would ever know the names of, much less put to paper. His world was monochrome when he met her; she leaves sunsets and soft light wherever she goes. If he was beautiful now it was her doing.

Their hands trembled as he slipped a ring onto her finger; the room falling silent with the exception of camera clicks. MC could not tear her eyes away from their joined hands and never wanted to. She never wanted to let go ever again.

The spell was broken when they were pronounced man and wife; MC returning to reality as if crawling out of a comfortable slumber. No one had to tell Jihyun he could kiss the bride-his lips were on hers the moment he heard the word ‘wife’.

He took her hand as they turned for photos, whispering both sweet words and obscenities in her ear.

She blushed, eyes darting around the garden and finally resting on the unexpected guest standing at a distance, a white envelope in his hand.

He was far away, but recognizable enough for anyone who knew him. V’s sister certainly did, gathering her skirts and rushing to greet him with an enormous smile on her face. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the other guests, eager for him get a photo with his brand new daughter in law.

Jihyun clearly wasn’t expecting his father to attend and MC wondered if Chief Kim had ever expected to come. They both looked like ducks out of water as they stood side by side for photographs.

She still wondered about it as she tossed her bouquet, watching it sail through the air and land quite neatly in Jaehee’s arms. It took her a moment to fully register what was happening, but she was swift to elbow Seven in the ribs when she realised he was standing next to her fluttering his eyelashes.

It was a day MC hoped to never forget-from champagne bubbles on her tongue to their first dance as husband and wife.

She does not forget, of course. No one could forget such a perfect day and she has it immortalised in seven different albums, containing each and every photograph from every roll of film. From Zen posing for a selfie at the dinner table to Jumin giving his best man speech to Saeran sitting by the flowerbeds to feed confetti to the birds. Every detail is immortalised, with only one exception.

At the end of the evening, almost every single disposable camera was full, save for mystery camera with exactly one photograph left on the film. At first she was eager to take a photograph of just about anything just to finish off the film, only to change her mind at the realisation that doing so would truly end her wedding day. She was glad of the extra time each roll of film afforded her, but the prospect of being a bride forever was far more attractive than knowing what was on the film.

She positioned that camera pride of place in their front room, underneath her wedding bouquet, which Jihyun pressed and fitted into a frame. It serves as a reminder that every day is her wedding day; each morning is a fresh start and new beginning for their love.

She never intends to develop it, never caves to curiosity and ultimately only reaches for it when several years have passed.

“She’s here!” Jihyun says, running his fingers through his hair and taking one step towards the front door, only to change his mind and double back. “What should I say?”

She hasn’t seen him this nervous since the day she married him.

“Well...you could start with ‘hello’.”

“Good idea!”

MC gives the room a final onceover, listening to his excited, albeit stuttered greeting when he opens up the front door.

“Come in, come in!”

She moves to join him, stepping out into the hallway to greet their guests.

Jihyun is still shaking the social worker’s hand when she gets there, and they look only too relieved when he awkwardly lets go.

The woman is an acquaintance of Yoosung’s, who regularly gives lectures on vulnerable children. The orphanages she works with have benefited from multiple VFA fundraisers, in part because of their tactical approach. They bring an orphaned child to every party, appealing to the sympathies of other guests and very often securing not only funding but permanent homes for abandoned children, just like the one standing in front of them today.

Her name is Lucy, or so MC was told, and has been in and out of foster care from birth. Both Jihyun and MC expressed surprise at such a detail, for Lucy is quite a beautiful child, not unlike a porcelain doll. It all became clear, however, when they actually spoke to her. Lucy did not speak her name-she signed it.

Along with painting, Jihyun had studied sign language, in part because he had never done so to communicate with his mother. MC wasn’t sure who was more excited to speak; Lucy, whose signs bordered on frantic, or Jihyun, who struggled to translate at times because he needed to give her one hundred percent of his attention. He told her terrible jokes; she told him he was handsome. Later they learned that she suffered mumps as an infant, which left her hard of hearing at first and later entirely deaf.

Today MC sits onto her knees and clumsily signs a greeting. She’s not nearly as fluent as Jihyun, but more than willing to try.

My name is MC. I’m going to be your Mother.

She knows for a fact she probably signed it wrong, but Lucy is more than excited, reaching to loop her arms around MC’s neck and pulling her into the warmest of hugs.

It was MC who suggested they adopt her. Having children had always seemed like a far off dream, but Lucy crossed their paths ready made and perfect, leaving MC unable to think of anything else but feeding her ice cream and signing her goodnight.

Once again she is reminded of warm summer childhoods; of excitement and wonder. She can see it in Lucy’s eyes as they sign the final papers, unapologetically examining each and every inch of their home.

No.

Her home.

Before long it is just the three of them; Jihyun showing Lucy to her room, laughing all the while at her excitement over each and every toy they picked up for her. She has a paint set from Jaehee, multiple leather bound encyclopedias from Jumin, a DVD of one of Zen’s performances that Jihyun slipped into a cupboard and never saw the light of day again, an enormous teddy bear from Yoosung.

Of all of the gifts, however, she makes a beeline for the tablet left by her uncle Luciel.

“Ahh, now, Lucy...wouldn’t you rather play with this?”

Jihyun picks up a copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe and Lucy shakes her head.

MC watches them from the doorway, turning that final disposable camera in her hands, just like she did on her wedding day. She lifts the camera to take the final picture, laughing at her husband’s incredible old fashioned-ness and Lucy’s excitement at whatever game Luciel created and installed on the tablet. From the looks of things, it’s a rhythm game, with piano keys and bright lights to show which one to press and when. MC can tell that before long she’ll not only be walking all over Jihyun but the whole of the VFA.

Her husband is barely recognizable from the one that called her upon her entrance to the VFA, voice quivering and spirit broken. She no longer sees herself in the woman who rested her head on his lap while he struggled through poison.

She recalls V’s words on the day of their wedding- that if he is beautiful it is because of her, considering that it is only half true. The three of them are butterflies, bursting out of their chrysalises to bathe in the sunlight.

The camera snaps and MC takes the final photo.

[renee-writer]

Shamrock to a Thistle Chapter 35 A Stag and Hen Party

“It really isn’t necessary.”

“It really is.” Catalina picks out her friends curls as they prepare for the joint hen party and bridal shower, Cully and her are hosting. Claire is still protesting even as she gets ready. “You have no sexy underwear, besides the practical things. Besides, you need a send-off. We are doing this.”

“Your house needs things too.” Cully adds.

“We have a bed.” Claire replies. They had decided to safe the honeymoon for a babymoon and just spend a week locked in their new house.

“Well, that is all important. It will be okay Claire. Fun with friends and great gifts, food, and advise.” Catalina says as she finishes her hair. “Come, lets go.”

At the same time

“No strippers.” Jamie reiterated what he had been telling his mate and brother-in-law for the last week.

“No strippers. We ken. Ye are.trully nae fun.” Harris complains as they head towards tge pub where his stag party is to be held.

“It would dishonor our ladies.”

“Do ye not think Catalina hasn’t amale stripper for Claire?” Fraser teases. Jamie stops on the way to the car and stares at him. “The look on yer face, brother. Dinna fash. She is just as straight laced as ye are.”

“We will have fun. Without all that.” Jamie declares.

The great room at Mid-Hope is filled with balloons, wedding bells, and pink crepe paper. One table is full of gifts. Several others are full of food. Claire has a crown placed on her head that says' bride.’ And she is placed in a seat of honor. Her mum and Allina are here. Catalina and Cully are joined by her mates from work.

“Gifts or food?” Catalina asks.

“Gifts. Might as well get the embarrassing part over with.” The answer twitter that runs through her guests tell her the embarrassment will be great. “The mum's first.” She requests as they are likely not to be lingerie.

Her mum hands her a small box and watches anxiously as she opens it. She carefully removes the pretty gold paper and opens the hinged box inside.

“Oh mum!” she lifts up the pearls with reverence.

“My own mum received them from her mum on her wedding day. My mum passed them down to me on mine. Now it is my honor to pass them down to you.” She cries as she hugs her mum tight.

Allina hands her a box next. It is also wrapped with care. She carefully opens it and lifts the lid.

“It is the Anderson colors. Made to go one your bed.” She explains.

“Made,” she whispers as she lifts the huge plaid out.” By who?”

“It goes a few generations back. My own grandmam had it on her bed.”

“Allina I..”

“Ye are family.” She simply says.”

“We have a few gifts for ye son. For yer wedding.” His father hands him a rectangular box. He opens it revealing..

“Da I have a kilt.”

“Aye ye do. But that one yer great great grandsir wore on his own wedding day.” Jamie lifts it out, awed.

“Wow!” It is made of heavy wool with the Anderson colors of red and green( so appropriate for a Christmas wedding) still sharp.

“Here, this goes with it.” Fraser hands him another box with a linen dress shirt, belt, and old brooch. He gasps when he sees it.

“Was this?”

“Aye son. It is auld Brian's. We retrieved it from the safe. It will be returned after until ye or Cully's son wears it on his own wedding day.”

“Ye…da I've nae words.”

“Ye will only have one wedding day. I ken ye wish tae honor yer name..”

“I will. Always.”

“Jamie, I don't have anything as old as all that but,” he hands him a small box,” I do have something I would be honored and will honor Claire if ye wear at the wedding.” Chris says.

He opens it and smiles. It is a ring with a shamrock on it.

“A taste of the brides heritage. I wore it at my own wedding.”

“Thank ye. I will wear it with pride.”

After the gifts that made her cry came the gifts that made her blush. Tiny knickers that are more lace then anything else. Bra's that barely cover her. Teddys in red and black.

“For yer wedding night.” Cully hands her a bag and she opens it with trepidation.

“Wow!” she says as she lifts the gown out. White with lace along the top it is floor length.

“Wear a pair of sexy knickers under it, or nothing at all. The length will slow him down.”

“Goodness Cully.”

“Now Claire we ken yer status. Now is the time for any questions ye may have.”

“Any questions about the wedding night, son.” His da asks him. He looks to his future father-in-law and blushes.

'Da.”

“Look we are all adults here. All married or at least experienced.”

“Her own da is present.”

“I am taking off my father of the bride hat for tonight. I am just here as a married man.”

“Oh lord. Okay. How do I make sure not tae hurt her?”

“How do I prevent it from being to painful?” Claire asks at the same time.

“Ye must go dlow and easy. Take yer time. Touch and kiss her everywhere.” Fraser says.

“Make sure she finds pleasure before entering her.” His da adds.

“With yer cock or fingers. As a virgin she will be very tight. A goid orgasm will loosen her up.” Chris adds to Jamie’s profound embarrassment.

“That is mainly up to him. He will know to go slow, to take his time. Will you be getting your hymen snipped?” her mum asks.

“Yes. It just makes sense.”

“Agree.” Allina says.

“With that barrier gone, and with him getting ye to cum before, it may be uncomfortable at first. But shouldn’t hurt.”

“Cully is right. After the first time, there should be no pain or discomfort.” Catalina adds.

She hides the lingerie away, places the pearls in her jewelry box, the plaid she hides in the master closet of their new home, the bits of household items, she places wear they go. The advice she ponders as the wedding day and night get closer.

Jamie hides the kilts and accessories away, places his father-in-laws ring in a safe place and thinks on all the advice he has received. He is both nervous and excited as he sits by Claire and their families as the final bans are read.

Claire goes to her GYN for the procedure.

“I haven’t done one of these in years.” She tells her,” There is usually no need.”

“I just wish to nake it as easy as possible.” She explains as she twist the ring around. A few minutes later, it is done.

“You will bleed a bit for a day or so. When is the wedding?”

“In a week.”

“You will be healed fully by thing. Should have an easy wedding nigjt. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

Final fittings. Flowers and cake finalized. Place settings made up. Bridesmaids dresses adjusted. Wedding rings bought. They are ready.