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ja3yun · 3 months

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Royal Sacrifice | S.JY

prince!jake x maid!fem reader warnings: fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, heartbreak, my attempt to write posh-ish, anti-monarchy vibes throughout, mentions of violence, petnames (my love, sweetheart), not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.1k synopsis: your secret relationship with prince jaeyun is all you could have dreamed of, however, you're rudely awakened when your lover tells you some devastating news.

part 2 a/n: surprise! you're all sick of me i know, but i wanted to post this before it sat in my drafts too long and i overthought to the point of never posting it </3 i changed up my writing style a little to fit the aesthetic of it all and idk if it worked but enjoy anyway! also, this is for the people asking me to post more jake <3

"Tonight demands nothing short of perfection from each and every one of you. Not a single mishap or slip-up will be tolerated. Should I catch so much as a hair or button out of place, rest assured, I will personally request your head." The Chamberlain's voice, firm and commanding, spreads through the grand corridor, her gaze penetrating the maids and footmen.

As she paced back and forth, the bright torch cast a soft glow against the polished marble floors, illuminating the intricate patterns etched into its surface. Each uniform was meticulously inspected, and every seam and crease was subjected to intense scrutiny. The weight of the impending event hung heavy in the air, thick with anticipation.

Tonight, within the confines of the castle walls, the royals and social elite would congregate for the year's largest gala. It was an exhibit of greatness, with the chosen guests flaunting their rank and power.

For the last seven months, you have wandered the castle's hallways as an insignificant maid to the Royal family of Glengyre. Your hands were battered from hours of labour and your spirit dwindled to the hardships of the job, but you had to do it.

You weren’t exactly invited into the castle, in fact, you had snuck your way in through the war tunnels underneath and begged the head housekeeper, Miss Son, to place you on her team.

Being born into a working-class household, you were all too familiar with the misery of poverty. With your parents absent and your siblings relying on your meagre earnings from the bakery, you carried the burden of duty from an early age. Survival had been your main priority, with every move controlled by the never-ending search for food and security; this was the job you needed.

Once you convinced Miss Son to give you a position, you were mindful to keep a low profile, sticking to your duties and never causing trouble. You dare not even breathe too loud next to the monarchy, each of them vicious and gruel in their own ways.

Yet amidst the icy family, there existed one beacon of warmth and compassion - Prince Jaeyun, the only heir to the throne.

He was the kindest man you had ever met, his values and ideals so drastically different from his fathers; all he ever wanted was peace and equality for the kingdom of Glengyre. His opinions echoed your own, his vision for the kingdom a testament to his noble character.

Everyone adored him, captivated by those puppy dog eyes and his wide, wholesome smile. Jaeyun had a magnetic charm that drew people to him effortlessly.

And yet, amidst the throngs of admirers, he reserved his heart only for you.

Jaeyun was familiar with all the staff, each face and name etched into his memory. So, when you suddenly appeared to clean the Library, he took immediate notice of you.

“I don’t believe we have met,” Jaeyun bows his head slightly to you, causing confusion to spread over your face. Men of his status shouldn’t be talking to you, let alone show you this level of respect, “Has The Chamberlain begun to hire new staff for that god-awful ball already?” he chuckles.

You’re transfixed by his question and his beauty, it’s not every day a Prince speaks to you, let alone so casually.

With this being your first job at such a level, you don’t know what to do. Typically, all maids get training and lessons on how to approach any member of the Royal Court, however, due to the nature of your employment, that part was skipped.

Jaeyun raises a brow, “Miss, are you alright? You look dreadfully pale,” he shows concern for you, even when he has no need to.

Quickly, you bow, “I am so sorry, Your Highness. I-I have been here for a while. Perhaps I have just blended into the background,” you offer as an explanation.

“A woman as beautiful as you could never blend in with this dreary decor” he smiles, holding out his hand, “Can I push you for your name?”

He waits expectantly, his palm outstretched as it waits for you to place your delicate hand into his. You didn’t need training to know you should never touch a member of the Royal Family, so you stay stagnant.

Noticing your apprehension, Jaeyun smiles and reaches his hand down to grab yours. You don’t want to say you felt a spark as soon as his hand graced yours but between you both, you could easily power up the castle generators.

He feels it too, the pull you had on him has been cemented by this moment, “I’m Prince Jaeyun,” leaning down he kisses your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you as he does so.

The Prince is mesmerising.

“Y/N, Your Highness. My name is Y/N,” your voice is wavering as your body is shaken by his act. You aren’t scared of him, you’re just shocked by his kindness.

“Y/N…a name as breathtaking as its owner.”

Since that day, Jaeyun hasn’t left your side, his presence constant as he finds any excuse to be in the room you’re working in, his conversations tailored to draw out your thoughts and passions.

To him, your background was irrelevant; he saw the depth of your character and your mind's brilliance. Every exchange deepened his admiration for you, weaving an unbreakable bond between you both.

Secret notes and clandestine meetings became the norm, each encounter is a stolen moment of shared laughter and intimate conversation. Jaeyun was captivated by your wisdom and fascinated by your unique perspective on the world.

In your second month at the castle, on the moonlit balcony of his bed chambers, he kissed you, declaring his love for you in the same breath. From that moment on, he was not just a prince but your prince, devoted entirely to you.

The Chamberlain gives you all one final check before sending you out, her excitement palpable as she practically squeals, "Places everyone, this is a big night!"

As far as you and the rest of your team are concerned, tonight is just another ball, one hosted nearly every month. But The Chamberlain's demeanour suggests otherwise - someone vastly important must be attending. The air crackles with anticipation, and whispers ripple through the servant ranks, speculating on the identity of the esteemed guest.

As you all fall into line at the entrance, you wait for the party to begin.

The sight of everyone's extravagant gowns and suits is awe-inspiring. Each guest seems to sparkle, adorned in riches that could feed your family for years. It serves as a striking reminder of the kingdom's vast disparities. Meanwhile, the servants stand in their modest uniforms, hardly visible amid the sea of finery.

It irks you to know that these people, who all have some power in ruling your home, could not care less about the people within it.

“You two, come with me,” The Chamberlain beckons you and the girl beside you to follow her, snapping her fingers as she hurries you along to the kitchen.

With little instruction, she thrusts a tray full of champagne into your hands. “Once empty, you come right back. I do not want to see one moment where you are not serving some form of beverage. Understood?”

“Yes, Madam Chamberlain,” you both say in unison as you bow and make your way to the Great Hall. The palace is now teeming with people from all corners of the kingdom, the room resonating with laughter and chatter. You'd find it enjoyable if you deemed any of these people tolerable. Drinks disappear and reappear from your silver tray, and not a single word of gratitude is uttered.

Finally, the Royal family enters the hall, with the King standing strongly at the front and his Queen elegantly alongside him, their presence commanding attention as they survey the gathering with royal poise, looking for the most important person in the room beside themselves.

However, Jaeyun is not like the others. Amidst the pomp and its beauty, his sight is drawn to a person considerably less notable.

In an instant, his attention falls on you, a delicate smile gracing his lips as he lifts his brow in discrete acknowledgement, a silent greeting in a noisy environment. The difficulties of being in a secret relationship with someone so far above your social status weigh hard; even in the same area, being seen with Jaeyun is a luxury you cannot afford.

Excusing himself from his family, he greets people on his way over to you, captivating the whole room as he does so. To everyone else, he appears to be merely working the room, exchanging pleasantries with ease, but you, standing in quiet anticipation, know better.

In that moment, it's as if the entire hall fades away, leaving only you and Jaeyun in your own private world. He moves closer, each step filled with purpose, each smile and gesture meant only for you.

As he approaches, his every move exudes royalty. It’s impossible to deny that Jaeyun was born to be king.

"Can I take one of these to lighten your workload?” Jaeyun asks with a playful glint in his eyes, already reaching for a flute of champagne.

You dip your head in a respectful curtsy, mindful not to spill the drinks as you balance the tray precariously. Miss Son's strict instructions echo in your mind - no engaging with royalty at events, let your body speak for your tongue.

But sometimes, Jaeyun takes that directive too literally.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Jaeyun says, his voice low and intimate. You hear a collective sigh from some nearby girls, their attention momentarily diverted from their own conversations to admire the Prince and his effortless charm.

Walking to stand next to you, his arm brushes yours as he looks in the opposite direction to you, he whispers just loud enough for you to hear, “Should I tell them I’m happily taken or would you like to put them in their place after hours?” his tone is laced with playful mischief.

“I would much rather occupy my time after hours with someone else,” you reply with a smirk, keeping your head facing forward to maintain composure.

You can't see it, but you feel the shift in Jaeyun's expression, a flicker of excitement, a hint of anticipation. His eyes dart briefly to yours, a silent exchange of mischief passing between you.

“Well, tell him he’s the luckiest man in the world,” Jaeyun responds, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Doesn’t he already know that?” you retort, a lively glint dancing in your eyes.

Jaeyun's hand lightly grazes your back, “Believe me, he will never forget,” he says wistfully as he turns away, seamlessly slipping back into his role of mingling with the guests. The lingering warmth of his touch leaves you breathless, your heart pounding with excitement at the thought that despite the separation now, he will be tangled in your body and soul later on.

The rowdy girls behind you giggle, their voices rising over the bustle of the hall as they discuss the Prince's past escapades with their cousins and sisters, whispering about how they hope they could spend just one night with him.

Jaeyun's reputation spread beyond the castle gates. He was renowned as a charming playboy, a Casanova whose dalliances sparked chatter across the kingdom. Every week, a new maiden appeared, talking about their alleged "hot affair" with the heir. It was enough to make anyone apprehensive, and you were no different. You maintained your guard up at first, rejecting his advances, refusing to become just another conquest in his succession of women.

But the more you spoke with him, as you shared moments and secrets in the quiet corners of the palace, you came to realise that the instant flurry of admiration you felt was not one-sided. Jaeyun's heart beats for you and you alone.

You discovered in him a love that went beyond gossip and whispers, a love based on trust and understanding. With that realisation, your reservations vanished, replaced by a deep assurance that Jaeyun was yours, and you were his, now and forever - or for as long as you could keep this illicit affair going.

The bell sounds, its loud chime cutting through the murmurs and whispers of the gathered guests, signalling you and the others to proceed to the main door of the castle.

"May I please introduce King James and Queen Elizabeth of the Lethamhill Kingdom, and their daughter, Princess Mia," the Master of Ceremonies declares, his voice full of power.

The announcement strikes like a thunderbolt, bringing the audience to a profound silence. Nobody had expected the arrival of the Royals of Lethamhill and the astonishment is evident as you look around to see a sea of stunned faces. Whispers spread like wildfire across the crowd as each visitor grapples with the implications of this unexpected situation.

Lethamhill and Glengyre are currently involved in delicate discussions about the possible unification of the kingdoms, a topic of enormous political importance. According to what Jaeyun has told you, these conversations have been stressful, with no definite agreement reached so far. The presence of the Lethamhill Royals at this gathering signifies a historic point between the two kingdoms.

The struggle between the two kingdoms has caused irreparable destruction, including starvation, poverty, sickness, and a staggering loss of life. It would take something genuinely extraordinary for both parties to put aside their differences and work together in peace.

Your eyes meet Jaeyun’s across the room, and you can see the fury simmering beneath the surface of his composed facade at the sudden intrusion. Yet, even as anger flashes in his eyes, you can sense the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

No one knows quite how to react to this unexpected turn of events, each guest grappling with their own thoughts and fears as they await the next move from the Lethamhills.

“Please, do not stop on our account, continue the festivities,” King James proclaims, his voice carrying a jovial tone, a vibrant smile gracing his features.

As the party continues and dinner is served, guests settle into their assigned seats, laughter and conversation filling the air as they merrily drink the castle dry. Surprisingly, the presence of the Lethamhill Royals doesn't disrupt the flow of the event, instead, it seems to enhance it. Many see this as a reconciliation party now, eagerly awaiting the announcement that could potentially solidify peace between the two kingdoms.

Your role for the evening is clear: shut up and stand to the side, only interacting if called upon. It's undoubtedly the most tedious part of the night. Being on your feet for hours on end, catering to the whims of the guests is exhausting enough but enduring the occasional push or intentional spillage of drinks on your uniform from some of the more unruly guests adds insult to injury.

The other worst part of the evening was the sight of Princess Mia draped all over your lover, her hands roaming possessively over his chest and arms as if they were hers to claim. Each touch felt like a dagger to your heart, stirring a tumultuous mix of jealousy and hurt within you.

Jaeyun attempted to gently remove her, pushing her away with as much politeness as he could but she stubbornly refused to listen. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker to you with a sympathy, silently communicating his regret at the situation and how you must be feeling. He would never wish for you to be hurt.

Telepathically, you reassure him that it's okay, that you understand and trust him implicitly. After all, it's not his fault that another woman - a tall, beautiful, rich, and powerful woman at that - feels entitled to touch him. His efforts to remove himself from the situation already speak volumes, and you take some solace in his unwavering loyalty.

But despite your attempts to rationalise, the bitterness lingers, a bitter pill that's difficult to swallow.

Standing on the sidelines affords you the opportunity to observe the dynamics of the entire top table, not just Jaeyun. The Kings engage in whispered conversations and the Queens gossip amongst themselves. It's as if no blood had ever been shed between their kingdoms.

The casual camaraderie displayed by those responsible for the devastating conflicts between their kingdoms makes you sick to your stomach. How can they be so chummy, so nonchalant, when their irresponsible fighting has caused so much pain and suffering to countless lives? It's a reminder of the callousness of those in power, their indifference to the consequences of their actions leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

Suddenly, you see your King rise and tap Jaeyun on the shoulder, ushering him into an undisclosed location. The urgency of the gesture sends a ripple of apprehension through you, and you can only presume that he is finally letting Jaeyun in on the reason for the Lethamhills' unexpected presence.

“Why do you suppose they are here, Y/N?” Heejin, the girl to your right, asks in a hushed breath, her voice tinged with concern.

“I can’t say for certain, but I fear it won’t be for the champagne and escalope,” you reply, turning to face her, your expression mirroring her worry.

And when Jaeyun re-enters the hall, you know that your apprehension was not unfounded. His face is devoid of the charismatic expression he had worn for most of the night.

The king wears a stern expression, clearly unamused with whatever his son has to say in rebuttal to his conversation.

Something is deeply wrong

You scream at him with your eyes, silently urging him to look at you, but he doesn't, his gaze fixed straight ahead. It's clear that whatever transpired in that conversation has deeply unsettled him, and you ache to know what happened.

“Excuse me, Miss Son, but may I please go to the lavatory?” you ask your head maid, hoping to slip away unnoticed. Her disdainful scoff is the only response, urging you to return quickly.

With a bow of gratitude, you glide towards the exit, silently willing Jaeyun to notice your movements and follow you. Your eyes briefly meet his, and he nods, understanding your need for a private conversation.

You arrive at your usual secret spot - the Council Chamber - a place where every decision is made and policies are signed. It's a room steeped in history and power, but also secrecy and intimacy. Old men come here to dictate the fate of the kingdom they supposedly love.

Jaeyun recommended this particular room as a defiant ‘fuck you’ against societal norms of hierarchy and privilege. It's ironic, considering he's made love to you on every surface of the place, turning his statement from metaphorical to literal.

Tracing your fingers over the spine of the old book laid on the desk, the door swings open suddenly, causing your heart to race with surprise. You quickly straighten up, trying to compose yourself as Jaeyun strides into the room.

“Did I frighten you, my love?” he asks softly, a hint of amusement in his voice as he approaches you.

You shake your head, “No, not at all,” you say trying to ease yourself, straightening your uniform and brushing the dust off your front. He always laughed when you tidied yourself for his presence, a habit when you’re faced with Royalty. You’re hardly unacquainted, the portraits hanging on the room walls can testify to that.

Finally reaching you, Jaeyun's hands find their way to your hips as he traps you between him and the oak desk. His eyes glance behind you to see what you were looking at, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Ah, the old laws that have kept this country from falling apart. To be lived and breathed by,” Jaeyun's voice carries a mix of sarcasm and despair.

“Laws that keep the rich rich and the poor poor,” you respond bitterly, your thoughts drifting back to your family and friends struggling back home.

Jaeyun's hands move up to your back, offering a reassuring rub. “I hate it too, Y/N,” he admits, his heart heavy with the weight of his people's suffering under his father's rule. He hugs you tighter, a silent reassurance of his solidarity and commitment to change, commitment to you.

Leaning back, he strokes your face adoringly with his middle finger, “You look so delicate tonight,” his voice conveying his love for you. Even dressed in rags, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.

“More delicate than Princess Mia?” You don’t mean it to come across as bitter, yet, it does.

Jaeyun shakes his head disapprovingly, a tiny glint of amusement in his eyes, “My darling love, are you jealous?”

“She is ravishing,” you reply. Princess Mia is everything you are not, it wouldn’t be misplaced for you to be slightly envious of her. You know the Princess could have anyone she desires, and if circumstances were different in which Jaeyun wasn’t hopelessly in love with you, she could probably have him too. That information would unsettle any lover to know.

Jaeyun places a feather-light kiss on your forehead, “She doesn’t hold a flame to your light, Y/N,” he says with such genuine love that you might believe him if you weren’t clad in a spilt-on uniform and tired eyes that reflect the brutality of being a measly servant.

But Jaeyun would never see you that way.

His lips swoop down to yours, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss, planting his deal of assurance on your lips. The way his mouth is melting into your own is enough to make your knees lose their strength. Jaeyun’s thumb rubs your hips tenderly as he deepens the kiss, trying to make the taste of you last the rest of the night.

Pulling back for a breath, you recollect yourself, smiling at him happily but as you gaze into his eyes you see something sorrowful hiding behind him. It wasn’t until this moment you forgot why you even snuck away to see him in the first place.

“The King seemed displeased,” you state the obvious, hoping he will enlighten you somewhat to the reason for the private discussion.

“He is an idiot, nothing more,” he spits back, eyes avoiding yours as if he’s scared of you suddenly. You have never seen him so angry yet sullen.

Reaching your cold palm to his warm cheek, you begin to pry further, “Jaeyun-”

Your query is cut short by his lips once again enveloping yours, the intensity of his kiss a silent plea for you to cease your questioning. It's unlike Jaeyun to keep secrets from you; usually, even the most classified information finds its way past his lips and into your ears. So naturally, his reluctance to share the details of his conversation with the King sets off alarm bells in your mind.

But as his touches grow more insistent, his lips trailing fiery kisses along your neck and his fingers daringly inching up your skirt, your thoughts become increasingly muddled. It's difficult to focus on anything other than the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

You hate that he won’t confide in you, that he's keeping you in the dark about something so significant. Yet, at this moment, you find yourself unable - and unwilling - to complain. Not when every touch, every caress, sends sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

“Jaeyun, I don’t have time,” you manage to groan out amidst a wave of pleasure, the urgency of the situation gnawing at the back of your mind. Miss Son could come looking for you at any moment, and you've already pushed your luck by leaving your duties unattended. There's simply no way you can disappear for long enough to satisfy Jaeyun's desires.

But he seems determined to ignore your protests, his fervour only intensifying as he continues to explore every inch of your body. In this stolen moment of passion, time seems to stand still, the outside world fading into insignificance as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of your forbidden.

With each caress, each whispered endearment, you feel yourself falling deeper under his spell, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his affection.

But as much as you crave the blissfulness of his embrace, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminds you of the consequences of your actions. You can't afford to be caught in such a compromising position, not when the stakes are so high and the dangers so real. Just down the hallway is a room full of people who would kill either of you for this affair.

"Jaeyun, we can't," you finally manage to gasp out, your voice tinged with desperation as you push against his chest, trying to put some distance between you. "Someone could walk in at any moment."

For a fleeting moment, Jaeyun's passion seems to falter, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. But then, with a determined glint in his eyes, he pulls you closer, his lips claiming yours in a desperate kiss.

"I don't care," he whispers against your lips, his voice husky with desire. "I need you, Y/N. Now more than ever."

The tone of his voice dings your attention, it’s pleading and needy which would be normal if his words didn’t waver, lip quivering slightly. The conversation with his father had affected him more than you know, and he dared not confess what it was regarding.

With a sense of urgency in his veins, Jaeyun hoists you onto the desk, his hands promptly pushing your skirt up and yanking down your underwear, revealing your core to him in all its delicious glory. His breath stops in his throat at the sight, and his need for you becomes stronger than ever.

He licks his lips hungrily, wishing he could taste you, savouring the wetness that gleams between your thighs like morning dew. He wants to drink you in and lose himself in your folds.

But time is not on his side, he knows this, nonetheless, the throbbing between his thighs, the thumping want for release, is too strong to ignore. He was so desperate for you to suck in his cock with your heat, he didn’t think he had the restraint to wait for it any longer.

His need for you is mirrored in your face and body as you edge yourself closer to the end of the desk, spreading your legs as he undoes his ivory dress trousers and lets his shaft spring free of its constraint.

“Can I please?” he asks softly but with urgency, the tip of his member already primed to enter you, the question just a matter of formality at this point.

“Please, Jaeyun, have me,” you whisper into his mouth and with a low groan of need, Jaeyun surrenders to his instincts, his desire overwhelming as he slips inside you with effortless ease. No matter how many times he makes love to you, the sensation of being so intimately connected to you never fails to amaze him. It's as if you were made perfectly for each other, two souls destined to intertwine. He thanks God every day for bringing you to his side.

His thrusts are pointed, to make this quick while also giving you both the release you desperately needed. Your tight pussy grasps every inch of him deliciously, accommodating his size yet giving him just enough resistance to squeeze the tip of his cock.

Gripping his shoulders tightly, you anchor yourself to him as he picks up the pace, his movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. You moan loudly through your bitten lips, trying your hardest to stay quiet; he was pounding into you so good you just can’t help the noises leaving your mouth, completely rending you dumb to his touch.

The sound of your gasps and mewls fills the air, a symphony of pleasure that drives Jaeyun wild with desire. Each cry, each whimper, only serves to fuel his drive, pushing him further into the depths of ecstasy as he loses himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together as one.

Arching your back leaves the nape of your neck exposed, inviting Jaeyun to sink into it with his teeth, easily leaving a red mark. It’s the first time he has ever done something like this, to leave physical marks on your body that aren’t the bruises from his tight grip; those were easy to hide, but this one wouldn’t be.

“Ah, Jaeyun, what are you doing?” your bated breath whisps past his ear yet he doesn’t hear you, lost in the feeling of fucking you silly. He sucks and licks at the base of your throat, possessed by his need to claim you as his.

“My love,” he brings his face up to lock your eyes together once more, his cock hammering into you still with force, “Tell me you'll be mine forever," he begs, his words hanging in the air between you like an urgent vow. The intensity of his stare and the sheer emotion in his speech leave you breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you try to find the words to answer.

Tears fill his lashline, and his eyes are unexpectedly vulnerable. In that moment, you can see the depth of his love for you and also his sudden fear that he might lose you. The sudden change in emotion takes you by surprise, your Jaeyun who is usually confident and strong in moments like this is now yearning for confirmation of your love.

"Yes, Jaeyun," you say, your voice barely audible as you completely yield to him, "I'll be yours forever,” It’s a truthful answer, the only one who you can see yourself being with for the rest of your life, long or short, is him. Your Prince Jaeyun.

He shakes his head and screws his eyes shut, seemingly shaking his internal thoughts out of his brain to make way for your reassuring ones. “I can’t lose you, my love. I can’t…I won’t,” he rambles, the rhythm of his thrusts depleting, signifying that he’s close to the edge.

To distract him from his inner monologue, you cradle his face, kissing all over his lips and cheeks. If you can do one thing for him, it’s to instil in him the fact that you will always be his love, until death do you part.

“Y/N, my sweet love,” he whispers sadly, “Don’t let me go,” his plea is muffled by his lips kissing your palms.

You have no idea what could cause this sudden cast of doubt in his mind.

Jaeyun’s right hand moves to your sensitive nub, circling it with his thumb as he tries to coax you to completion. His hips buck sloppily, overwhelmed with the raw emotion and need to cum inside of you.

The bubbling heat between your tummy and pussy consumes you, the climax Jaeyun has worked so hard out of you finally spilling over his shaft and down yourself. Your legs shake violently as he continues to rub your clit in earnest.

The way your body contracts and walls clench around him also sends him to the brink, his seed filling you up quickly, each spurt dripping down your canal and onto your inner garments. The Prince keeps himself stuffed inside you as he pants, unsure of when he will finally be done.

Resting his head on your shoulder, he breathes out softly, trying to calm his panting and heart rate down. He knows he shouldn’t have asked you to stay with him forever, to promise to love him for eternity, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to hear it almost more than he needed to find his release.

With a final kiss on your lips, he removes himself from you, retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket to catch the cum falling from you. While he does so, you can see his mind shouting so loud you could almost hear it, or maybe it was just because you are both so attuned to one another.

You have to find out what is happening and why he is acting so strangely.

As Jaeyun tucks himself back in and discards his handkerchief, you watch him closely, your heart heavy with concern. There's a weight in the air, a silent tension that hangs between you like a thick fog, and you can't help but feel the ache of his unspoken fears.

Jumping off the desk, you fix your underwear and approach him slowly, your movements deliberate as you reach out to straighten his jacket. Your touch is gentle, “Please, Jaeyun,” you implore softly, your voice barely a whisper as you search his eyes for answers, "Let me in. What are your worries?"

But Jaeyun remains silent, his gaze averted as he avoids your questioning eyes. You can see the pain etched into every line of his face, the fear and uncertainty that threaten to consume him whole. And yet, he can't bring himself to speak the words that weigh so heavily on his soul, scared that if he does. It’ll all be too real.

You can sense his hesitation, his reluctance to confront the truth that lies buried deep within him. But you refuse to give up, determined to stand by his side no matter what challenges may come your way.

Gently, you place a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze to meet yours as you speak from the depths of your heart. "Jaeyun," you whisper, your voice filled with love and understanding. "You don't have to face this alone. Whatever it is, we'll face it together. I promise."

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” he begins, voice trembling, “the King has put me in a predicament I cannot get out of,” he leans into your touch, craving your comfort.

Tilting your head, you stroke your thumb over the flushed apple of his cheeks, “What are you talking about?” you ask nervously.

Swallowing the thickness of his turmoil, he speaks lowly, “He has arranged my marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill.”

As Jaeyun reveals the truth of his arranged marriage to Princess Mia of Lethamhill, a heavy silence descends upon the room. Your heart sinks at the revelation, a knot of pain and disappointment tightening in your chest. This isn't the news you wanted to hear, the realisation crashing down on you like a wave of icy water.

"Oh..." The word escapes your lips, your mind reeling with the implications of Jaeyun's confession. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the knowledge that your secret love is soon belong to another, bound by duty and obligation.

Retracting your hand from his face, you take a step back, the distance between you a painful reminder of the barriers between you. But before you can retreat any further, Jaeyun reaches out to stop you, his eyes pleading for your understanding.

“My beautiful girl, I told him no,” he implores desperately, hoping you don’t think that he didn’t fight against this preposterous idea, “How could I ever marry her when my true love is already by my side?”

His words offer you a sense of relief, however, you know the King wouldn’t let him away with a simple ‘no’ in regards to this marriage, “I surmise he did not take it well?”

"Of course, he didn't," Jaeyun's voice is bitter and cold, his body tensing as he recalls the conversation with his father. "If I do not marry her, the proposed treaty between our kingdoms will be broken, and there will be conflict."

He was the glue to bond the kingdoms, it was all on him to marry this woman he didn’t know in the name of unification. He is being used as a pawn in this game of power and manipulation and it makes you wonder whether Princess Mia is also going through the same distress, although, with how she was groping Jaeyun earlier, you doubt it.

“A conflict, you mean a war?” you dare ask.

He nods shallowly, remorse etched in his features, “And our King has made it perfectly clear that I will be on the front line.”

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, the pain of it like a dagger to your chest. How could the King do this to Jaeyun, to offer him up as a sacrificial lamb in a game of politics and manipulation? It's cruel, it's unjust, and it's utterly heartbreaking.

"Your father cannot do that," you say slowly, your mind reeling with the enormity of the situation. "It's... it's unthinkable."

But Jaeyun shakes his head, his expression filled with bitterness and resentment. "That man is no father of mine," he declares, his voice filled with anger and defiance.

Opposite to his anger is your sadness, eyes leaking salty tears at the thought of losing your love. No matter the choice Jaeyun makes, he will never be yours. That is something you should have known from the beginning of your relationship.

You and him can never live in love or peace, it will always end in heartache and loss.

The Prince sees your sobs and pulls you in, circling his arms around you tightly, “My love, please don’t shed tears, I hate to see you cry like this.” he mutters into your hair, kissing the crown of your head gently.

But how could you not cry? You’ve just in this instant lost the love of your life.

The room is so silent all you can hear is the raucous laughter and music echoing from the grand hall. It gives you the opportunity to think about how the war would pause all laughter for every citizen of Glengyre, how the only sound you will hear is guns and screams of those desperately seeking escape and safety. You cannot allow that to happen.

“Marry her.”

“Excuse me?” Jaeyun pulls away, disgusted that you would even dream of proposing such an idea. He was yours and only yours, he wouldn’t even dream of lying with another.

You know that you must make him see reason, that there may be no other choice if you are to prevent the looming catastrophe that threatens to tear your world apart.

"It is the only noble thing to do, Jaeyun," you insist, your voice trembling with emotion, "We cannot allow our love to stand in the way of peace, of saving those people from the horrors of war. If marrying Princess Mia is what it takes to prevent bloodshed, then it is a sacrifice we must make.”

He doesn’t register your words, only hearing his heartbreak at the thought of you not being by his side, “But I will lose you, it will be impossible to be together if I marry her,” he begs you with his eyes to change your mind.

“You will lose me either way, Jaeyun,” you release yourself from his grasp, taking a step back to create the inevitable distance that is about to become your reality, “The people of this kingdom need you, Jaeyun. You are the only one that can make a difference to those less fortunate,” you begin, your eyes locked onto him as you portray the seriousness of your words, “If you go to war then there is a certainty you will die and you are no use to the cause of change if you are dead.”

The words get stuck in your throat, the idea of uttering such horror makes you feel sick to your stomach but the lives of hundreds must take priority over your love, no matter how painful.

"But-" he begins, his voice tinged with desperation.

"You cannot be selfish, Jaeyun," you interrupt firmly, your gaze unwavering as you meet his eyes. "I couldn't look at you the same if you sacrificed the welfare of our people for the sake of our love."

The truth of your words lands heavily between you, a painful reminder of the sacrifices that must be made in the name of duty and honour. And though your heart may ache with the prospect of losing him, you know that it is a sacrifice you must be willing to make.

Jaeyun ponders your words, recognising that you are correct: his people are his primary concern. He wishes he could do more to keep your relationship alive, to make you his Queen. As he stands before you, staring at you with loving eyes, he wishes you were the ruler of Glengyre, for your qualities and ideals already shine as if you are.

Suddenly, the bellow of your name echoes the castle halls, Miss Son shouting erratically to find you. It brings Jaeyun to realise that his fantasies of you being his queen are just that - fantasies.

Clasping your face in his big hands, he shakes his head, signifying his defiance to the idea but succumbing to his duties, accepting this fate, “I will always love you, and I will do everything in my power to make it back to you. Even if it’s in another lifetime,” he whispers the words onto your face, sealing them with a final kiss, his tongue now craving to remember you for a lifetime, rather than just a night.

You curtly nod, trying to bottle the emotions you are feeling, scared that if even one drop overflows, you will take back everything you have just said, sacrificing the people you love for the man you love. You could never win in this situation, and neither could Jaeyun.

“I love you too, my sweetheart,” you confess for the last time.

Miss Son’s footprints are right outside the door, putting your own feet into action as you leave Jaeyun to return to your post as a maid, the delusions that you could ever be with Jaeyun for a lifetime are crumbling away with each patter of your feet on the marble floor.

“Ah, there you are! What on earth are you doing in the Council Chamber?” she shouts at you while still being mindful of the guests only a hallway away.

You bow, offering no explanation and slip back into your role, smoothing yourself down to seem presentable. The togetherness of your exterior is the complete opposite of the shattering of your interior, your heart shattered in fragments as you stand back, overlooking the people you made an eternal sacrifice for. And none of them would ever care. The promise you made to love Jaeyun forever is the only peace of your heart left in place.

Jaeyun comes back into the hall a few moments later, poised and stoic, the only change in his face is when he looks at his father with an angry glare and a nod to follow, much to the delight of the King.

Abruptly, the King stands, “Ladies and Gentlemen, my esteemed guests. I have some exciting news to share!”

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen angst #enha angst #enhypen fluff #jake smut #jake sim smut #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #sim jaeyun smut #aj writes

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

Text

go for it! ; yuuta okkotsu

synopsis; yuuta’s been crushing on you ever since the first group project you had together, but he’s too nervous to confess. luckily, he has some over-eager friends willing to help! step 1: ask for your number!

word count; 7.4k

contents; yuuta okkotsu/reader, gn!reader, university au, yuuta majors in creative writing and writes poetry in his spare time <3, no curses au, yuuta is a cutiepie, he’s also a loserboy, pining and longing, one-sided love, maki inumaki and panda are wingmen (but not very good ones), fluffy vibes, gojo makes a guest appearance (stay safe), literally just yuuta being whipped for like 7k words straight

a/n; im gonna have to edit this a lot i think….. but for now it should be fine :3 i love the boy!!

”you’re staring. again.”

yuuta flinches. a jolt overtakes him, running through his body, and the pen he’d been absently writing with slips from his fingers. it tumbles down to the ground with a soft thunk.

gazing up at the shadow towering over him, his eyes are wide, a little flustered; like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. like he’s expecting a smack on the head from the person in front of him.

— it’s maki.

and she looks displeased, lips pursed and a single eyebrow raised. unimpressed, as she stares him down — the same way he’d been looking at you just a second ago.

”they’re gonna think you’re a creep if they catch you, you know,” she sighs, shifting from one foot to another. carrying her bass in a case on her back.

”maki, c’mon,” comes from behind her, an even larger figure strolling up to the pair. grinning brightly, fluffy hair tousled by the afternoon breeze. ”cut him some slack!”

”salmon,” a third voice joins in. inumaki’s got some green paint staining the sleeve of his hoodie, and his fingers are dirtied with charcoal.

his closest friends, all joining him on the table they usually frequent on campus. right next to a giant tree, casting a pleasantly cool shade and obscuring the irritating brightness of the sun.

maki, headstrong and resilient. infamously rude. a music major, primarily, though yuuta knows she has more than a couple minors. if you pay attention, you can see her almost everywhere on campus, and she always does well on exams. confident, enough so that just being around her makes yuuta feel a little more secure in himself.

panda, a big kid with a big heart, always wearing monochrome clothes. ‘panda’ can’t possibly be his real name, though yuuta’s never found the courage to ask. truthfully, he isn’t sure panda even has a major, or goes to this university at all — but nobody’s mentioned it yet, and he doubts they ever will.

and then inumaki, the quiet kid, always helpful and kind. a little teasing, too. selectively mute, speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients, but yuuta has already begun adjusting to the thought behind his phrases. an art student with remarkable talent, from sculptures to comics to paintings. he mostly spends his lectures playing games on his phone, though. and he's the kindest guy yuuta knows.

his beloved friends. the reason he can smile through each day, even when it’s a little difficult.

and maki’s right, he knows she is. if you were to lock eyes with him, and realize he’d been glancing over at you for the past ten minutes… god, he doesn’t even want to think about it. you’d be weirded out for sure, wouldn’t you?

but yuuta just can’t help it. you’re far too radiant to ever look away from, smile much too pretty.

you’re just sitting there, laughing and talking with your friends, the same as any other day. comparing hand sizes with miwa, or leaning over to whisper in mai’s ear. snorting over something momo said, or trying to understand the code kokochi’s fiddling with on his laptop. just being yourself, with people you’re close to.

and yuuta desperately wishes he could be among them. wishes he could see your honeyed smile up close, hear the melodic lilt of your laughter, breathe in the lingering scent of your shampoo. he wishes he could speak to you without stuttering, without tripping over his feet — hang out with you outside of class. just something small, like studying together, or grabbing a bite to eat.

he wishes he could get to know you.

yuuta thinks he must seem like a fool, to be so affected by your mere presence. everything comes to him so easily, when he looks at you; the pitter patter of his heart, his sweaty hands, the whirlwind of butterflies swirling in his chest. even just the way you twirl your hair or chew on your pencil is so mesmerizing.

so all he can do is stare, hopeless, a moth to a flame. basking in the warmth of your gaze, directed at your friends.

hoping one day, maybe… that warmth will fall upon him, as well.

(maybe one day.)

”hellooo? earth to yuuta!”

”see? he’s hopeless.”

”mentaiko…”

”inumaki’s right. he’s a man in love!”

”he’s a boy with a stupid crush,” maki scoffs, picking at a piece of lint on her tank top. ”and we have a study session we need to get done. the exam’s next week, remember?”

exam.

yuuta shoots up, wasting no time in grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. the ring hanging around his neck dangles with the sudden movement, and he clutches onto it.

”ah — right!” he squeaks, apologetic. ”sorry, it completely slipped my mind —”

before his mind can begin to overthink every action he’s taken these past few hours, a hand reaches out to pat his shoulder. pat, pat. reassuring and stabilizing.

inumaki smiles at him. yuuta can’t see his mouth, from behind the fabric of his hoodie, but his eyes crinkle softly; and it’s enough to put yuuta’s heart at ease.

”don’t apologize,” maki says. simple, straightforward. ”let’s just get going. i need to do better than naoya did last time.”

”you’re still mad about that, huh?”

”he only got a higher score because i wasn’t on top of my game,” she grumbles, digging her nails into the pockets of her baseball jacket. ”he doesn’t even like music. he’s just taking the course to piss me off. grown ass man.”

a chuckle slips from yuuta’s lips. the warm breeze ruffles his hair, and he holds onto the strap of his backpack, following closely behind as his friends begin to leave. sending one final glance at your figure, over by a table near the apricot trees.

and that’s when it happens.

— he looks over at you, and finds that your eyes are already on him.

a moment passes.

while yuuta struggles to find his breathing, your lips curl up into a soft smile. then you raise your hand, waving to him cheerily, teeth peeking out from between your lips. he can see it clearly, even with the distance between you.

a smile that glimmers like a jewel, in the light of the sun.

yuuta feels his lips part, mouth falling open ever so slightly. but he waves back, afraid to take too long, unable to stop the pounding of his heartbeat — smiling giddily, like a schoolgirl tripping over her feet.

his friends just watch, wholly unimpressed.

”do you think he’d notice if i threw a rock at him?”

”maki!”

”what do you like about them, anyway?”

the question is unexpected. yuuta has to do a double take, eyes straying from his excerpt of sappho 31 up to the person seated across from him. tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, resting her sharp jaw on the heel of her palm.

”huh?”

”them. your crush,” maki reiterates. ”what caught your attention? there’s got to be something, yeah?”

”oh?” panda chirps, leaning back in his chair. a teasing grin playing at his lips. “i thought you didn’t care about his silly little crush.”

”i don’t.” a huff pushes past her lips, hands reaching to fix her lazy ponytail, hair tie dangling from between her teeth. ”i’m just bored. i already know all this, anyway.”

”tuna mayo.”

”oh, are you curious too, inumaki?”

”well, out with it. why them?”

yuuta blinks. once, then twice — mind spinning in circles, as his friends await his answer.

and, truthfully, yuuta can’t pinpoint the exact moment he felt it. that burst of joy, that tinge of excitement — the puppy love that rika always spoke of. she was always good at verbalizing her emotions, in a way yuuta never could.

(he always knew he loved her, but he could never put it into words.)

and he knows that he likes you. he knows because every word you speak has him stumbling over what to say, because even a single smile sent his way makes the world feel so gentle. he knows because he’d probably throw himself into incoming traffic, if you just asked him to.

but he can’t put it into words. not spoken ones, anyhow �� putting them on paper is one thing, the one thing he can do. writing out his love for you in similes and metaphors, sonettes and alexandrines. it’s how he copes with everything; writing and writing, til his fingers start to hurt. he can compare you to a dandelion, to the way cicadas buzz in the light of the sun. the scent of childhood. but it’s harder to speak it out loud, to turn the feelings into sounds — that’s maki’s specialty, not his.

why does yuuta like you?

he remembers it clear as day, but still can’t pinpoint the exact second he fell headfirst into love. it was more of a creeping realization, something soft and sweet trickling through his veins. that sinking feeling, how helplessly he fell for you.

it all started with a pencil.

in hindsight, it’s a little silly. but yuuta can’t bring himself to think back to that moment with anything other than fondness.

(your smile was just so bright.)

that day had been a disaster. he was nervous, painfully so, afraid of every single new thing he came across during his first week of uni. scatterbrained, running on almost no sleep, unsure of where to put his feet as he walked.

honestly — what kind of trainwreck forgets their pen and notebook during their very first workshop?

all that anxiety, all those hours spent overthinking, and he still couldn’t manage something so small. in the moment, he almost panicked; sitting with you, a total stranger, wholly unprepared for such a simple assignment. read a couple excerpts, analyze them on paper. all yuuta could do was stare blankly at his lap, frozen, throat dry. hands cold with sweat.

but then you smiled.

”did you forget your notebook?” you had asked, voice set to a soothing tilt. calm, not angry or impatient.

”ah — yeah, i, um…” yuuta could only swallow thickly, fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. ”i’m sorry. i haven't been sleeping well, so —”

”hey, hey, it’s fine!” you chuckled, teeth peeking out from between your lips. ”i totally get it. i almost forgot my laptop at yesterday’s lecture. we can just share!”

then you pushed your notebook closer to him, inviting him in. moving your chair a little, angling it towards him. but all yuuta could think of was how pretty your smile looked, how kind your presence felt.

”here you go,” you grinned, snapping him out of his trance. ”you can use this.”

a pencil. yuuta took it from your opened palm, gazing at it in wonder. an orange-coloured, halloween-themed pumpkin design. completely out of season. the tiny pumpkin was cute, though.

such a casual kindness. but maybe that's exactly why it made his heart flutter so deeply; as if you did it without even really thinking. as if kindness comes easy, to you.

that’s probably how it began. by the time the workshop ended, yuuta knew that he liked you, and he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be your friend.

(subconsciously, his fingers tap at the zipper of his backpack. the pumpkin pen is still with him, after you waved him off with a smooth you can keep it, if you want. yuuta has found that he always writes best when he uses it.)

”well?”

maki’s voice snaps him out of his trip down memory lane, and he stumbles for something to say. what does he like about you?

squirming, yuuta feels his face heat up, as he thinks of you. all he can see is your smile, the kindness in the tilt of your voice. the brightness of the grin you sent his way. warm and saccharine, like the sun peeking out after a downpour — when the streets smell like honeydew and rain.

”they’re just… so cool,” he finally sighs, a dreamy look smoothing over his face. ”they’re so nice. and their smile is so beautiful. they’re so smart, too — god, you should see the way they write — everything about them is just…”

yuuta blushes a deep red, smiling even still. lovesick. ”.. so, so wonderful.”

maki freezes in the midst of the tapping of her pencil. panda stops kicking at the foot of the table. and inumaki looks away from his phone, messing up his full combo.

a moment of silence passes. the study hall grows quiet, and yuuta looks down at his lap; suddenly embarrassed. sipping from his little carton of apple juice.

”hey…” panda starts, delicate. somehow, yuuta dreads the teasing edge to his voice. ”have you thought about confessing to them, yuuta?”

”what?” the boy in question squeaks, choking on his juice. ”no, of course not!”

”why?” maki deadpans. popping a chip into her mouth. ”you’re head over heels, right? might as well do something about it.”

inumaki hums. affirmative.

”i… don’t know,” yuuta sighs. a heavy breath, a little wobbly. meek. ”they’d just reject me, wouldn’t they? i mean…”

(you’re totally out of his league. right?)

maki scoffs, sitting up a little straighter. there’s an angered kind of affection in her eyes. ”you’re just deciding that all on your own. how would you know how they feel?”

the gaze she sends his way is intense. it always has been. there’s a kindness to it, though, something that makes yuuta want to look her in the eye — but he can’t, eyes still locked on his hands, resting in his lap. ”… still,” he manages a weak smile, somewhat sheepish. ”even if i wanted to, there’s no way i could. i’m too much of a coward.”

…

maki slams her textbook shut. the sound is sudden, loud. yuuta flinches, and a wince leaves inumaki’s lips. panda just watches her, snacking on some chips, a mild curiousity simmering in his eyes.

the girl in question gets up from her seat, grabbing her bass case and throwing it over her shoulder. then she looks at yuuta, eyes full of decision.

”— well, lucky for you, we’ve got some time to spare.”

a blink. yuuta gazes up at the girl in front of him, tilting his head in confusion.

maki sighs. exasperated. ”i’m saying we’ll help you. don’t look so resigned, dumbass.”

at that, panda gets up too — suddenly excited. ”are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

she just huffs, smiling even still. ”probably not. but let’s hear it.”

the grin on his face widens. he scribbles something down in his notebook, showing off the writing proudly. ”operation: get yuuta to confess is about to commence!”

inumaki turns off his phone. sitting up straight, arms decisively crossed, a strangely serious expression on his face. completely invested.

”wait — wait!” yuuta stutters, eyes wide with flustered shock. ”don’t i get a say in this?”

”of course not.”

”nope!”

”bonito flakes.”

”b… but —”

”alright, so here’s what i’m thinking,” panda begins, writing down unintelligible notes on the pages of his tattered notebook. ”we need to start small. we don’t want yuuta getting heart palpitations and fainting in the middle of campus, so —”

”tuna mayo?”

”yeah, that’s perfect! hang on, lemme just…”

”let me see. i don’t want you messing this up.”

yuuta’s voice comes out tiny, as it falls from his lips. more of a squeaky breath. ”guys, i really — you don’t need to —”

panda continues to scribble in the notebook, engrossed, arm hanging off maki’s shoulder as they go over the contents. inumaki nods along, walking over to them with lazy steps. yuuta’s protests go unnoticed, and all he can do is watch them mutter under their breaths.

”— okay. listen up, yuuta.”

he raises his head, and meets maki’s sharp eyes. she’s smiling, strolling over to place the notebook right in front of him. ”here’s how this is gonna go.”

yuuta looks down.

everything is written out with a pink sharpie, glittery and pretty. there are little hearts doodled out across the pages, and he can tell exactly which ones were drawn by who. all of them look messy, with the exception of inumaki’s perfect little shapes.

and there, right in the middle, lies a line of text.

panda reads it out, voice loud and cheery, while maki and inumaki stick close. all smiling, as a chill crawls down yuuta’s spine.

”step 1: ask for their number!”

plan a

”okay, so… what am i supposed to do, exactly?”

panda throws an arm over yuuta’s shoulder, and he’s enveloped by the scent of fresh sunlight. the weight is heavy, a comfort. ”we’re going with my plan first! it’s the best one, so don’t worry.”

”i don’t know about that,” maki scoffs. ”we can’t ask mai. best case scenario, she’ll laugh at us a little and say no.”

inumaki hums. he rips out a part of the notebook he’s been tasked with carrying, doodling a little face and showing it to the rest of his friends.

yuuta leans in close. it’s a cute doodle, charming. and he can tell who it’s supposed to depict. miwa kasumi.

”yeah, she’s our best bet,” maki sighs, brushing some specks of dust off her jeans. ”she seems like the nicest one in that group.”

yuuta tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. he plays with the ring hanging around his neck, a nervous tick he’s never managed to get rid of. ”wait, so…” he trails off, unsure. ”what are we doing, exactly?”

panda tugs him closer, a friendly smile on his face. ”we’re going to their friends for help!” he beams. ”that’ll be easier for you, right?”

a blink. yuuta gazes into the eyes of his friend, something soft blooming in his eyes.

they can be a chaotic bunch — but they’re still so considerate. considerate enough to know asking for your number straight out would be too much for him. considerate enough to think of his comfort, in a way no one else has bothered to before.

(faced with such immense understanding, such genuine friendship, how could he ever bear to let them down?)

”… alright,” yuuta gulps, clutching his ring as if to give him courage. managing a smile. ”let’s do this, then!”

with newfound determination, the four of them seek out miwa kasumi. it doesn’t take too long — she’s studying, going over legal codes in the library, eyes narrowed in concentration. and she isn’t alone.

”hey, miwa. muta.”

the pair look up from their respective textbooks and laptop, meeting the gaze of a certain maki zenin, waltzing over to their table. miwa smiles, but kokichi doesn’t say anything.

”hi, maki! how are you?”

”i’m good,” she answers, straight to the point; but her eyes soften a little. then she gestures towards yuuta with a tilt of her head. ”sorry, but this guy needs your help.”

”hm?” miwa shifts in her seat, meeting yuuta’s nervous gaze, as he steps forward. ”ah, you’re… okkotsu, right?”

”ah, yeah! sorry for interrupting you two…”

”no, no! please, don’t worry about it,” she grins. sweet and soft, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers. ”we don't mind. right?”

kokichi still doesn’t say anything. but he nods, when miwa meets his eyes — and yuuta notices that they seem a lot softer when she does.

”so, here’s how it is…”

panda explains the situation to the pair. yuuta looks down at the floor, face flushed as he shifts from foot to foot. by the time he’s finished, miwa looks wholly invested, and kokichi looks a little less like all he wants is for them to leave him and miwa be.

”awww, that’s so sweet!!” she gushes, clasping her hands together. eyes glimmering with excitement.

”right,” maki hums. already a little impatient. ”so, basically — we need their number.”

”… ah. well, um —” miwa trails off, averting her gaze. she looks over at kokichi, but he only shrugs, going back to his coding. ”see, here’s the thing…”

with an apologetic look in her eyes, she turns to yuuta. ”i support you 100% — but i dunno if it’d feel right to just… give away their number like that, you know?” she mumbles, sheepishly. ”i think you should ask them, yourself. that’d be way more romantic!”

”yeah, but that’s a tall hurdle for a socially anxious guy…” panda mutters, patting yuuta’s back.

”still! i’m sure they’d appreciate you being direct.” miwa closes her eyes, a dreamy expression painted on her face. ”i’d be elated if someone asked for my number like that!! all stuttering and shy… it’d be so cute!”

(if anyone notices kokichi stiffening beside her, they don’t mention it.)

maki sighs, resigned. ”well, i don’t think we’re getting any numbers here. good. what kind of creep just texts someone out of nowhere, anyway?”

”i thought it was a good plan!” panda protests, pouting a little. maki shoots him a look.

”it was an awful plan. what were you planning to say? hey, i forced your friend to give me your number, but would you want to hang out sometime?” she crosses her arms with a sharp scoff. ”i’d beat your ass!”

panda grumbles a little under his breath, but doesn’t say anything.

”sorry i couldn’t be of more help,” miwa mumbles, sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. ”good luck, though! i hope they say yes!”

”thanks, miwa,” yuuta smiles, already in the process of being tugged away by his friends. ”i really appreciate it!”

plan a

plan b

”alright, inumaki’s turn. what’s your take on the situation, mister?”

the boy in question sits up straight, back resting against a tree trunk. he writes something down, and yuuta waits, patiently — absentmindedly staring at the white petals of the apricot trees on campus. pure, fleeting, sweet blossoms unfurling before him.

when he’s finished, inumaki presents the page to yuuta, and everyone gathers round. reading the writing, eyes trailing over his little doodles. panda grins, and maki strokes her chin in contemplation.

”you’re a genius, inu!”

”well, it’s probably the easiest way to go about it…”

yuuta purses his lips. it’s a good plan, he thinks; writing out a note, and passing it to you in the middle of class. that way, he won’t have to turn his feelings into sounds, won’t have to speak them out loud. there’s a safety to it, the trickling of ink across blank papers. one that’s never failed him.

”… that should work,” he mumbles, and inumaki visibly brightens. ”what am i supposed to write, though?”

”just be straightforward.”

”not seconded!” panda huffs, crossing his legs. ”you need to be dramatic. heartfelt. that’ll catch their attention!” he stops to think for a moment, a hum buzzing loudly in his throat. ”hey — why not write them a love poem? put those skills to good use!”

”a love poem?” yuuta squeaks, a slight heat rising to the tips of his ears. ”there’s no way i could do that! and i’m not skilled, i —”

a pause. yuuta bites his lip.

”… it’d just be embarrassing,” he finally mutters, playing with his ring.

(he wonders what rika would think, if she were here. what she’d advise him to do — would she like the love poem idea? probably.)

”well, you could at least try. who knows, maybe they’ll like it,” maki attempts to reassure him, chewing at a piece of gum. ”if they’re anything like miwa, it’ll be easy.”

gnawing at his bottom lip, yuuta emits an anxious hum. deep in thought. maybe you would like it, but… what if you just think it’s cheesy?

maki observes him, intently. listening to the emotions behind his silence. tapping the pads of her fingers on her knee, in a rhythmic motion. ”… at least try writing something out,” she says. ”if you can’t think of anything, then just copy some random old guy. what was his name, uh — catallas? or something?”

yuuta’s gaze snaps up, eyes gone wide. ”catullus?” he gapes, in disbelief. ”are you insane? do you even know what kind of poems he wrote?”

maki shoots him a confused look, and a tilt of her head. ”isn’t he the ’give me a thousand kisses’ guy?”

”he is, but that’s —” a sigh, exasperated. flustered, as it flows from his parted lips. then he shakes his head. ”nevermind. it doesn’t matter.”

”tuna…” inumaki mumbles, nudging yuuta’s shoulder with his head. a silent encouragement. and even with no words, yuuta knows what he’s trying to say.

just be yourself. this is your specialty, right?

write from your heart.

”inumaki…” yuuta meets his gaze, and is met with a pair of warm eyes. a friendly punch meets his shoulder, soft and delicate. kind.

”… alright. i’ll write it!”

”that’s the spirit!” panda grins. ”just give it to them during tomorrow’s lecture.”

”yeah,” yuuta nods, mustering the courage to smile. ”i will!”

when yuuta gets home that night, he makes himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar, and gets ready to write.

he listens to maki’s acoustic guitar covers through his headphones, curled up with the fluffy blanket panda gave him, and munches on a hastily made onigiri to give himself much-needed energy.

(writing with a certain pumpkin-themed pencil, basking in the scratching of lead against blank pages.)

his hands are shaking.

it’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. that nervous shiver of his bones, the rattling of his skeleton. you’re sitting right next to him, so close he can smell the shampoo you use, the mint off your breath —

and yuuta can’t seem to hand you the note.

he spent all last night writing it. putting every single little drop of his love into every single little word. but that fear of rejection still remains, rendering him useless, unable to act.

you’re listening to the lecture, but only halfheartedly, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook. out of boredom, he assumes.

it’s the perfect moment to strike.

yuuta’s hands are shaking, and his heartbeat is stuttering, crawling up his throat. he takes a sip of water, hoping it’ll make the dry sensation go away, but it doesn’t work.

(just be yourself.)

with a deep intake of breath, he pushes the note over to you — not daring to look your way.

his eyes remain glued on the laptop screen in front of him, but he hears you pick it up, hears the rustling of paper as you unfold it. his heart echoes with a similar rhythm, unstable, borderline erratic. the rest of the lecture passes by slowly, minute by minute, at an agonizing pace.

when it finally ends, yuuta has to restrain the urge to run away — turning towards you slowly, hesitantly, as if just the sight of you could blind him if he isn’t careful. but you’re already looking at him. and you’re smiling.

”that was so good, yuuta!”

….

huh?

”sorry, but i honestly don’t have any feedback,” you mumble, eyes trailing over the note again. ”i like it a lot. i didn’t know you wrote poetry!”

”… ah.” yuuta stumbles for something to say. staring into your eyes, blankly. dumbly. ”t.. thank you! i’m glad you liked it.”

with a brief shake of your head, you smile, and something sickly sweet unfurls in his chest. ”not at all. thanks for letting me read it! i’m sorry i can’t really help you improve…”

mentally, yuuta falls to his knees. places his palms on the floor and dry heaves, clutching his heart. did you not get it? was he not clear enough? he wrote it with you in mind, so —

”maybe you could show it to professor nanami?” you suggest, unaware of the turmoil within the boy to your right. ”i'm sure he’ll be a great help! he can seem a bit intimidating, but he’s nice.”

”.. yeah,” yuuta smiles, weakly. ”i’ll do that. thanks again.”

for a moment, he isn’t even upset. because you flash him another bright smile, and suddenly, even the frustration of yet another setback doesn’t feel so awful.

(maybe it’s fine, he thinks. maybe this is enough; speaking to you, getting to see your smile up close. maybe he doesn’t need anything else, after all.)

”so?” maki questions, waiting for him outside of class with his other two friends. ”how’d it go?”

shoulders slumped, but still wearing a smile on his face, yuuta chuckles. it comes out sounding a little strangled. ”they… thought i wanted their feedback on my poetry.”

….

”what.”

panda attempt to stifle his laughter, but it doesn’t really work. inumaki elbows him gently, but yuuta sees his eyes crinkle, too. he breathes out a low chuckle. ”they liked the poem, at least. so i’m happy.”

a sigh falls from maki’s lips, and she waltzes over to him, a hand on her hip. the other reaches out for the note in his palm. ”let me see.”

quickly unfolding it, her eyes trail across the words on the pages, the flowery lines of writing —

and then she shoots him an unimpressed look.

”.. yuuta,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. ”what the hell is this? you didn’t even mention their number.”

panda leans over her shoulder, peeking at the text. eyes glancing over a couple lines, riddled with sugarsweet metaphors. ”uh, wow. you… really got into it, huh?”

a groan leaves yuuta’s lips, the sound muffled as he cradles his head in his hands. ”please don’t say anything else. i just wanna crawl into a hole and die…”

inumaki shakes his head, erratic, pointing at the poem with shining eyes. ”mentaiko!”

”ah, you liked it? thanks, inumaki…”

the boy in question smiles, shooting yuuta a thumbs up. he returns it with a small smile of his own.

surrounded by his friends, all he can do is bask in their warmth — and the memory of the smile you gave him.

plan a plan b

plan c

a groan fills the air, as yuuta slumps over the table. cheek pressed against the cold wood, absently kicking his legs, voice meek and defeated.

”this is never gonna work,” he mutters under his breath. eyes devoid of hope. ” i’m just not cut out for this, guys…”

”aw, c’mon….” panda reaches over to ruffle his hair, palm big and warm. ”don’t give up hope! you want to grow closer to them, don’t you?”

”i do, but…” he sighs. ”this isn’t going very well, is it…?”

inumaki frowns, sending yuuta a sympathetic glance.

”oh, quit moping already!” maki grumbles. ”we just need to keep brainstorming. isn’t it time for my plan, yet?”

”should we really even keep going…?” another sigh, heavy with fatigue. yuuta’s mind spins in circles, tiring him out. rendering him a bit cynical. ”i mean… maybe it’s fine if things stay this way.”

a moment passes. maki looks at him, emitting a soft scoff. ”what, so you’re just gonna keep pining for the rest of the term?”

”that’s the plan.”

”yuuta…” panda pouts, shoes bumping against his beneath the table. ”be more positive! just think about it; with every step you take, you get closer to confessing!”

yet another groan. this one is deep, riddled with exhaustion. muffled into the table. ”that’s the scariest part…”

before either of his friends can begin to persuade him otherwise, encourage him further, a sing-songy voice echoes throughout the air. loud, cheery — a little bit obnoxious.

”oh? did someone just say confess?”

at the same instant the sound reaches their ears, a chill runs down the youths’ spines. in tandem with each other, they raise their heads; gazes falling on a certain satoru gojo.

panda and maki are the first to act, speaking simultaneously as the white haired man inches closer.

”— no.”

maki closes the notebook containing operation: get yuuta to confess, right before their professor can get close enough to see it. then she turns towards him, shooting him a cold look.

”your hearing’s getting bad,” she hums. ”maybe you should book a doctor’s appointment.”

a pout. gojo takes a seat right beside her, uncomfortably long legs bumping against every single other pair of shoes beneath the table.

”oh, c’mon. you know i heard you.” his hand reaches out to ruffle her hair, but she smacks it away. ”you’re starting to sound just like megumi, y’know that?”

maki grits her teeth. ”guess it’s a genetic thing,” she huffs. ”now can you leave? don’t you have papers to grade?”

”don’t you have papers to write?” gojo smirks, a teasing mirth in his eyes. hidden behind his sunglasses. maki ignores him.

placing his palms on the table, he leans a little closer, lips curled up into a cheshire grin. foreboding. ”sooo… yuuta’s got himself a little crush, huh?” he teases. ”tell your favorite professor allll about it. maybe i can help!”

”professor geto is our favorite,” maki shoots back, instantaneous.

a soft huff. there’s something sour in gojo’s expression, now. ”that guy? really?”

before the two can argue further, yuuta takes the opportunity to to speak. smiling apologetically, polite and sweet. ”thanks, mr. gojo, but…”

”he doesn't need your help,” maki cuts in. so much for diffusing the tension. ”and do you really expect us to believe you get girls?”

”wha — rude!” gojo scoffs. ”for your information, i’m a natural charmer!”

…

a moment passes. then another.

”… tough crowd,” he clicks his tongue, met only with four blank stares. ”but, really — let me help! i'm your professor, you know?”

and this time, yuuta thinks that gojo’s smile looks just a little more sincere. something kind and gentle in the way his lips curl up, like a father’s affection for their children. something that makes yuuta falter.

(maki might like mr. geto more — but when it comes to yuuta, his favorite professor is a no-brainer.)

so he speaks up, again. ”we can at least hear him out, right…?” maki shoots him an unimpressed look, but he doesn’t back down. ”we’re stuck, anyway…”

and just like that, gojo brightens. it’s obvious, in the way he sits up, more alert. in the way his grin grows wider. ”right? what you need is the perspective of someone more experienced.”

”have you even talked to a girl before?”

”i see him at ieiri’s office, sometimes.”

”salmon.”

”isn’t she a lesbian? that doesn’t count. i mean, like, in a romantic context.”

”i thought mr. gojo was gay, too?”

”what? no way. have you seen the way he’s dressed —?”

gojo clears his throat, voice loud and grating. demanding attention, cutting his eager students off. ”anyway,” he chirps. ”gather round, children! i’ll tell you exactly how to ask the person you like for their number.”

”wh —” yuuta blinks. ”how’d you…?”

”operation ’get yuuta to confess!’, step 1: ask for their number!” gojo repeats, grinning ear to ear. voice rich with amusement. ”i like the glitter. it’s a nice touch.”

maki huffs. looks like she didn’t close it fast enough.

begrudgingly, the youths quiet down, finally willing to hear their professor out. and gojo seems satisfied, at last, speaking in a hushed whisper; eerily serious all of a sudden. ”ok, so here’s what you do…”

everything goes silent. yuuta strains his ears, and gojo parts his lips.

”— just ask them! easy, right?

….

”let’s go, yuuta.”

”mentaiko.”

”i heard they're serving those sandwiches you like at the cafeteria today! let's hurry before they run out.”

”ah — i was just kidding!” gojo laughs, as his students get up from their seats. ”i have an actual answer!”

maki grabs her bass, inumaki takes the notebook, and panda ushers yuuta away. they begin to walk down the hall, ignoring the pleas of the man behind them. pouting, as his shout echoes throughout the hallway.

”kids! come back!”

plan a plan b plan c

plan d

”okay, so this is going absolutely nowhere.”

relishing in the shadow cast by the giant campus tree, the four friends sit on their usual table, sandwiches in hand. yuuta takes a bite of his, tentative. a little disheartened.

”really, guys… i appreciate it a lot, but maybe we should stop here.”

maki huffs. reaching across the table, she gently smacks him over the head with her can of sprite. ”no way. we still haven’t tried my plan.”

he leans back, a little further, a hesitant look in his eyes. the sun shines down, relentless, but the air smells like rain. in the distance he sees clouds, dark, approaching at a slow pace.

an omen, he thinks. a reason not to speak out.

rika always liked the rain. she liked the scent that came with it, the puddles she could jump in. she liked shaking the branches of tiny trees, just to see him jolt and squeak as the raindrops hit him.

the ring around his neck weighs heavy on his heart. the promise of it, the oath within the silver.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!)

”earth to yuuta!”

his eyes flutter open.

the sun shines down, embracing the contours of his face. painting his world yellow. from this angle, staring up at the tree, he can see it breaking through; between the gaps of the green leaves, the white blossoms. forcing its way into his line of vision.

a flicker of hope.

”do you want to hear the plan or not?” maki scoffs, crossing her arms and tapping at her elbow. impatient.

yuuta meets her gaze, finding it in him to muster up just a little more determination. ”yeah,” he breathes. ”i do.”

a smile blooms on her face. ”good. alright.”

panda and inumaki inch closer to the pair, careful not to knock over the cans of soda resting on the table. in a mess of limbs and tousled hair, they gather round.

this is it, yuuta thinks — the final plan. if it fails, he’ll just have to keep pining from afar. memorizing your smile, over and over, until you graduate and part ways.

this is it.

maki parts her lips.

”— just ask them,” she says. ”straight out.”

silence.

a moment passes. a soft, pleasant breeze flits by, caressing yuuta’s skin. his ring sways with the wind, gently.

”… huh?!”

panda furrow his brows, leaning closer with his palms on his knees. ”i thought we agreed that was stupid!” inumaki huffs out a low affirmative noise, holding his sketchbook tightly to his chest. but maki only puffs out her chest.

yuuta tilts his head, with a soft furrow of his brows. ”didn’t you just cuss out mr. gojo for suggesting that…?”

”well, it’s dumb when he says it…” she mutters, under her breath. then her gaze turns firm. ”look — yuuta.”

when the two lock eyes, he notices a steadfast determination, glimmering in her irises. something almost burning.

”you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re too cowardly to even look them in the eye,” she tells him, not allowing him to squirm away from the eye contact. ”you guys can come up with those convoluted plans all you want, but there’s no way you’ll grow closer if you can’t face them.”

tousling her hair, softly, maki lets out a sigh. there’s a kindness to it, distinct. he can tell she’s trying to be tactful.

”if you really want to get to know them, then you have to be direct. and you have to believe in yourself. you’ve already resigned yourself to the fact that they’ll say no — but that’s just dumb.”

panda winces, under his breath, but doesn’t say anything. maybe this is exactly what yuuta needs to hear.

the boy in question listens, the eyes of his friend boring into his own. determined, confident, sincere — everything he isn’t. everything he wants to be.

”even if you don’t believe it, you’re a charming guy. we all think so,” she continues, matter-of-factly. angered affection overflowing in her voice.

”have some confidence, dammit!”

a moment passes. yuuta feels his lips part, ever so slightly. a little speechless.

panda and inumaki sit shoulder to shoulder, hands over their eyes, shielding themselves from the sight in front of them. comically, as if it’s too bright to look at directly.

”this… overflowing tough love…!”

”salmon roe…!”

maki grins, all teeth, a little wolfish. but kind. ”the worst thing they can say is no, right?

yuuta blinks. ”maki…” he mumbles, looking into her eyes, a certain sensation running through his chest. a kind of confidence. passed on from her to him — one friend to another. the most natural exchange in the world.

then he smiles. a little meek, somewhat awkward — but bright. ”yeah. yeah, you’re right!”

the lazy grin on her lips only deepens, as she gets up to her feet, dusting non-existent dirt off her jeans. reaching a hand out for yuuta to take. ”c’mon, loser. shape up. you’re gonna steal their heart, aren’t you?”

a moment passes.

yuuta takes her hand in his. ”i am,” he swallows down a gulp. willing his voice to sound even a little bit self-assured.

and she pulls him up, effortlessly, overflowing with a natural resilience. still grinning cheekily. encouraging him. ”you’re gonna go out there and do your best, right?”

”i — i am!”

another voice chimes in. ”you’re gonna finish my essay for me this week, right?”

”i am!”

…

”wait —”

maki hits panda over the head with a soft thwack. a wince leaves his lips, and inumaki giggles, quieting down when maki sends him a warning glance.

”don’t throw him off his game,” she huffs. then she turns to yuuta once more. ”let’s go find them. alright, loverboy?”

a smile blooms on his lips. grateful, to be surrounded by such sunny people. ones that make it a little easier to smile each day. ”right.”

— but before either of them can take a step forward, a warm voice spills into the open air.

”um, yuuta?”

the boy in question stops in his tracks. he feels his eyes widen, spinning on his heels, hair ruffled by the breeze — turning to look at the source of the sound.

it’s you.

you, with your sunkissed smile, that inviting voice. that soothing, soothing presence. one that has his heartbeat picking up in speed, hands growing sweaty, throat running dry. one that makes him feel a little bit feverish. and you’re looking right at him, into his eyes.

”hey!” he sputters, blinking rapidly to convince himself that he isn’t hallucinating. but you just keep smiling, answering his awkward greeting without skipping a beat.

”hi! sorry, could i just… talk to you, for a second?”

he blinks. the world stops spinning.

(you… want to talk….

to him?)

attempting to find the words, any words, he opens his mouth — but nothing comes out. not a single syllable, no vowels, not even a sound. nothing at all.

he can only stare, star-struck.

it’s not until his friends push him forward that he’s snapped out of it; they surround him, on all sides, wearing matching grins. teasing and excited.

”don’t worry, he’s all yours!”

”have fun, you two!”

”salmon!”

— then they’re off.

yuuta tries to reach for their sleeves, in a weak attempt to keep them from leaving, but they’re gone before he can even blink. leaving him all alone, with someone he can’t talk to without experiencing intense symptoms of heart failure.

he stumbles for something to say, again, but thankfully you beat him to it.

”sorry for interrupting you guys,” you say, voice set to a low tilt. apologetic. and his throat unclogs, a little.

”ah, no, it’s fine!” he smiles, maybe a little too giddy. wanting so badly to reassure you, to put you at ease. ”i’m happy to speak to you!”

…

(oh god oh no why did i say that —)

your smile widens, blooming like a flower in the sunlight. unfurling in front of his very eyes. ”me too!” you say, excitedly. ”i feel like you and i have been talking more, recently… it’s nice.”

eyes crinkling, you wringle your hands together, and look at him fondly. yuuta’s surprised he manages to keep his knees from buckling.

”i think so too!” he grins, ears pink and dimples showing.

both of you smile. the breeze curls around your hair, illuminating the colour of your eyes. yuuta stops breathing, for a moment — just taking it all in.

”so — anyway…” you murmur, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. ”um… haha. sorry, i’m — a little nervous…”

yuuta blinks.

(he knows where this is going. all the signs are there, right in front of him; the flush of your cheeks, the nervous tapping of your fingers, the hesitance in your eyes. he’s read enough shoujo manga — he knows what this means.)

and he almost can’t believe it.

all he can do is keep smiling, hoping it’ll give you even a fraction of the peace that your smile brings him. ”don’t be,” he says, voice soothing. scratching the back of his head. ”whatever it is, i’ll — um. i’ll listen, so…”

he clears his throat. swallowing thickly.

”just — whenever you're ready.”

there’s no mistaking it. your ears are painted pink, and you’re gnawing at your bottom lip. fiddling with your fingers and avoiding his gaze, with a soft inhale, clear air filling your lungs. he wonders if your throat feels as dry as his, if your heart is beating even half as fast.

”um… okay, so…” you mumble, eyes unable to stay in one place for too long. a soft bout of laughter escapes you, and he can tell you’re trying to stave off your own nervosity; it sends a pang of ache running through his chest.

he wants to tell you that there’s no need to be nervous. that he’d listen to anything you have say, absolutely anything, no matter what it is.

he wants to tell you that he’d never let you down, that he’d have to be foolish to even think the thought.

he wants to tell you that he’ll hear you out. whenever, wherever. for as long as you need.

”do you, um…”

a gulp. your eyes find his, and there’s a soft kind of decisiveness in them.

here it comes, he thinks. here it comes.

yuuta feels the heat on his cheeks, ears burning. and he hears the patter of his heartbeat, loud and heavy, echoing in his muddled mind like a mantra. but his chest feels light; fluttery, butterflies dancing around uncontrollably.

clutching the ring around his neck, subconsciously, he looks you in the eye.

they’re bright, glimmering like little galaxies — or maybe more like summer skies. painted over with a warm hue, something nostalgic and sweet, so pretty it hurts. if he strains his eyes enough, he’s almost sure he can see the swirling of fluffy clouds in the depths of your irises.

a smile rests on your lips. it's almost overwhelmingly sweet, albeit a little shy, as you part your pretty lips. voice soaked in nervosity, tingly and shaky, and something he knows to be puppy love.

a shallow, dry intake of breath. yuuta braces himself.

here it comes.

your voice spills out into the air, dripping with honey and magnolias. he thinks to himself that he’d like to hear the melodic lilt of it every single day; before going to bed, right after waking up. walking to campus together, heading back to the dorms when the sky gets dark.

just the sound alone would be enough.

subconsciously, he tugs on the strap of his backpack. thinking of the pencil inside it. his lucky charm, along with the ring around his neck — ordinary objects, both too precious for words.

(when we grow up, let’s get married!

you can keep it, if you want.)

here it comes, yuuta thinks.

a new beginning.

he strains his ears, and purses his lips, and watches your lips move as you finally ask —

”do you have maki’s number?”

(somewhere in the distance, from an inconspicuous bush, the muffled screams of three students and one professor resounds.)

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calummss · 11 days

Text

Eye of the Beholder | Penelope Featherington

masterlist

summary: you had liked penelope for as long as you could remember and watched her change for someone else. at least so you thought

pairing: sapphic! penelope featherington x lesbian! reader

words: 1k

a/n: i <3 penelope sm and needed a wlw imagine so bad. spent 1 hour on this so if it’s bad i apologise but it’s 4am and i couldn’t sleep without finishing this story

“Pen!” You called out from the Featherington’s hallway. “Make haste, we are already late. Madame Delacroix promised us those fabrics from Paris and I am in desperate need of new garments.”

Farleigh raised her eyebrows at you but remained silent as she glanced up the stairs to see if Penelope had heard the lady shout from downstairs; improper manners but being late to an appointment was far more rude.

Penelope eventually made it downstairs wearing her bright yellow dress. Penelope hated the citrus colours her mamma always had her wear. You thought it rather suited her. It was a happy colour indeed and she looked the kindest in them. The details were too much—you agreed with Pen on that but she looked beautiful in any colour. How could she not? She had hair, orange like the sunsets over London; rosy cheeks that matched her fiery hair; when she was embarrassed or vexed, feeling too hot or cold, the apples of her cheeks would shine bright alike. She was so very bewitching but you could never tell her. It was unheard of—a woman in love with another? No one ever even uttered a word of queer affections. So you stayed silent and admired her from afar.

“Ready?”

“Indeed.” She beamed, taking your arms and headed towards the carriage that waited outside.

At the Modiste you eyed a pink fabric that Madame Delacroix had laid out for you. Pink like little piglets and flowers, decorated with the most marvellous design of glitter. Penelope had strayed away from the citrus colour and asked Madame Delacroix for the latest fabric from Paris that weren’t orange or yellow.

“Do you think it wise to alter your mamma’s signature colours?” You asked.

“I simply do not understand her fixation on citrus colours. ‘Happy’ colours indeed but it makes me look washed out. Sick even. It is not for me.”

“I think you look pretty.”

“You might be the only one in Mayfair who thinks so.”

“I doubt so,” you walked towards the mirror to stand opposite Penelope, “but if you must know, those colours Madam Delacroix chose rather suit you quite well..”

“You think so?” You swear you saw a tinkle in her eyes.

“Yes.”

Madame Delacroix promised Penelope six new gowns, one to be done in two days time just in time for Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. It was both Pen’s and yours third season out with no prospects to show. Either men were too interested in you or not. Believed you to be some kind of dog they could just tell about. And with your conveyed feelings you weren’t even quite sure you wanted a love match with a man. A woman sounded much more pleasing but out of reach. Your family; your papa, mamma and younger sister knew of your unwise choices and savoured the word of acceptance over and over again but that it was a fantasy that could never be real. That you had to marry a man and that it would be easier to forget. Society liked women in brothels that performed together. Was queer love only good for the pleasure of others?

It was even harder knowing that Penelope felt for Colin Bridgerton. He barely eyed her and yet her affections were in a box with a key only he could open. Penelope had grown more silent on the matter and not staring too much out of her window. It was odd for Pen not to stare into Bridgerton house but you couldn’t blame her. A flame only lasted so long.

At the ball you had waited by the food table in hopes of Penelope finding you. The two of you enjoyed being stuck to the wall and observing the ton. The most peculiar things did happen when one thought no one was around to see. You saw the Featherington’s arrive when you noticed that Penelope hadn’t taken her cape off and when the staff helped her remove it, Pen stood on top of the stairs like a fallen angel. The green complimented her well. Well was an understatement. It was unmatched. You weren’t even able to get to Pen as the suitors went up one by one.

When the suitors did eventually leave, Cressida had walked up in the same moment and you saw her purposely edging the heel of her foot into her fabric so that when Pen tried to come towards you, her gown had ripped.

“How mortifying! I am so clumsy. My deepest apologies.” She said, cruelty marking her every word.

Penelope stared at you and without warning rushed outside. You followed her after telling Cressida off, hoping she would one day learn her lesson.

Outside Pen started weeping, a sight you wished you wouldn’t have to witness.

“Pen, I am so sorry.”

“I am the laughing stock of the ton even when I change my entire wardrobe!”

“You didn’t have to change to begin with.”

“All night I waited to be noticed. To be admired but who could I blame?” She let out a concealed sigh with a laugh.

“Pen,” you grabbed her hands, “I saw Colin look at you. I am very sure he was engaged by your charm.”

“Colin?” Pen pulled her hands back. “Who said I’m talking about Colin?”

“Are we not?” You asked carefully.

“No, I am talking about you!” She shouted, her chest rising and falling.

“What?” You mumbled.

“All day,” she breathed out, “I waited to be beholden by you. To see you gaze at me in a way that is considered forbidden but you didn’t.”

“I—“

“Nevermind, I should have never said what I said. I’m-a-fool-and-should’ve-stayed-quiet-and—“

“Shut up.” You muttered before kissing Penelope.

A momentarily calmness came over Penelope as she melted into the kiss. You had grabbed her by the face and pulled her in. Her hands held your wrists and she kissed you back so softly, unsure if the kiss was reality or fantasy.

“You have kissed me,” Pen pulled back.

“Shouldn’t I have?”

“I’m not sure, I—“

“Kiss me again.”

And she did. With the same tenderness as before as you nervously waited for the carriage to arrive and to take you two home.

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jinnis-stuff · 10 months

Text

HUMAN DAUGHTER OF MUZAN (Y/n) WHO DEVELOPED CLOSE RELATIONSHIP AND SPEND TIME WITH THE UPPER MOONS+RUI

Daki Edition:

Gyutaro Edition

(This is like a part two of Daki Edition)

The first time (Y/n) and Gyutaro interacted, (Y/n) was left alone in the bedroom for a bit, while Daki was occupied with her oiran duties.

Gyutaro has always been interested in the young girl and wondered how she could possibly get along with his sister Daki. One time, while they were alone in a room together, Gyutaro grabbed the chance to speak with (Y/N) so he came up to her.

"Oi kid" he called. (Y/N) turned away and smiled "Hello! You're Daki-san's big brother right?" she cheered. "That's right" he replied.

Gyutaro was interrupted before he could wrap up his sentence by "You're cool" (Y/n) interrupted. "What did you just say?!" he asked. "I said your cool" she cheered.

"Do you mean that? You think this face is cool? All I see in this reflection is a hideous beast ready to annihilate anything in its path, a mindless killer, a beast. I guess humans could see such a terrible creature as cool"

"Who said that you're hideous? They are hideous" (Y/n) pouted.

"You’re quite persistent about this, my appearance is not cool it’s a monstrous demon. And whoever said I was hideous was simply stating the truth, I’ve been called that a multitude of times, and for a while I’ve stopped caring about my appearance, my appearance means absolutely nothing in my eyes. But you saying I was cool took me a back a little…"

"That's not true at all. I don't believe them" He can now understand Daki's fondness for her. She is so cheerful and positive, like a ball of sunshine. Given that he is a demon and cannot enter sunlight, she acts as the light in his life.

"You’re being kind, it’s so unusual for a human to be kind to a demon like myself. You haven’t said anything bad about me, you say I’m cool. Your kindness is unusual, and I appreciate that, it’s not quite often that I get treated with kindness." (Y/n) just smiled and giggled as a response.

"Is it okay if I touch your scars?" she requested." If you would like, I haven’t ever had anyone treat me so kindly, it’s not every day a human is kind to a demon. You have my permission to touch my scars." he permitted.

"You’re calling some scars beautiful? I guess you have some strange tastes. I’m surprised you think scars can even be beautiful, I mean they’re just marks of my past battles, and I guess you find that beautiful?" he wondered.

"Past battles? That means you should be more proud of your scars since it's like a medal of hard work and strength from those battles. Don't you think? Whoever said you or you're scars are hideous should die and go to hell" she replied.

Gyutaro smiled and patted her head "I see, you think my scars are something to be proud of? I’ve never looked at it that way, maybe you’re right, I should be proud of my scars, a medal of hard work and strength gained from my past battles. You’re very wise, you should be proud of that. Thank you little Kibutsuji"

Along with that, (Y/N) exposed to Gyutaro her huge scar on her arm hidden by her kimono sleeves. She revealed that her abusive human father was the reason she received them.

It was the kindest and most understanding treatment he had ever received from a human being. Given that they both share the experience of having been harmed by a human, they are not just similar but also have a connection.

Since (Y/n) enjoys hugging the people she loves, she was unable to resist giving him a bear hug and giggled.

"No one hugs me, humans usually stay far away from me, they show disgust when they see a demon such as myself. But, you’re different, you see the good in me, you see me and do not think of a hideous demon, you show kindness to me, even after you learn of what I’ve done. And for that… I cannot thank you enough"

"No need to thank me. I just like warm hugs" she mumbled. "I'll give more hugs if you want" she smiled and giggled once more. "Yes, I would enjoy more hugs in the future, I’ve never really gotten hugs before so this is a new experience for me, you’ve made a first for me today and I’m grateful for it" (Y/n) snuggled more into him.

He is uncertain of how to explain it, however it is soothing. It feels quite warm and cozy. "You must be so attached to me to be cuddling like this already"

Since then, Daki and Gyutaro had spent a lot of time with (Y/n), occasionally they pay her a visit in the infinity castle, but more frequently (Y/n) is the one who stops by them in the Entertainment District. The siblings enjoy being around her and seeing her smile.

"Daki-san, Gyutaro-san" (Y/n) called. "Yes?" they both raised their eyebrow waiting for her next line. "Always take care of each other okay?" siblings exchanged glances before Daki responded "Will that makes you happy?"

(Y/n) nodded. "Also, I want you to be happy too so please promise me?" she pleaded. "Of course our little Kibutsuji. That's a promise" Gyutaro agreed.

"Thank you!! Group hug please" (Y/n) requested which both of the siblings granted. As soon as Daki and Gyutaro hugged the little girl, they couldn't help but smile and treasure the moment with each other.

At one point, Daki uttered an appeal as (Y/N) snoring off peacefully. "Onii-chan, I want to protect her and risk my life to protect her. Not just because she's the daughter of Muzan-sama, but because she deserves it"

Gyutaro nodded. "Let's do that. I won't let anything or anyone take her innocence and precious smile away" he smiled gently and the child's her sleeping figure.

#anime fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x you #kny daki #daki demon slayer #gyutaro #upper moons #lord muzan #fluff #demon slayer fluff

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inkedreverie · 1 year

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you are the kindest thing to ever happen to me.

pairing: andy barber x female reader

warnings: implications of anxiety and depression. reader has abandonment issues/trust issues. angst. angst with a happy ending.

summary: As things start to get more serious with your boyfriend, Andy. You find yourself battling a bad case of cold feet.

a/n: hello! i'm back with another repost from my old blog. this one was a very self indulgent fic and is one of my favorites since i whipped this up based on a personal dream i had. comments/ reblogs or any kind of feedback is highly appreciated & encouraged!

masterlist | library | read on AO3

“I think we should break up.” Y/N breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper. She’s thought about it over and over, and she almost regrets it as she sees the look of hurt and confusion plastered on his face. But deep down she knows it’s the right thing to do. So why does this feel wrong?

“I—,” Andy trips over his words as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I don’t understand. Have I done something? Where is this coming from?”

They’ve been dating for a few months. For the most part it’s been wonderful. He’s been understanding on her bad days, he’d given her her space when she needed it, comforted her with warm bear hugs and occasionally a quick peck on the cheek during her break downs. He’s been more than perfect. But as of late she feels herself shutting down, pushing him away.

The events of last week invade her mind— It had been one of those days. Everything had seemed to be going wrong. From the moment she woke up, followed all the way into the evening. Her anxiety had somehow combined into depression. And it certainly didn’t help that she’d woken up to her boss firing her.

Andy had brought in Chinese take out from their favorite restaurant. All the things that had gone wrong that day, along with every regret or mistake she had made had seemed to jumble all together into one big ball of thoughts and memories. And it had come on so fast and out of nowhere, she had a hard time fighting back the tears all the way through dinner. Usually she could ignore the negative voice in her head, today though, it came with a vengeance that was making it hard for her to silence.

And no matter how hard she had tried to pretend that she was fine, Andy knew she wasn’t her normal self. He had managed to pick up on the signs rather quickly throughout their relationship. It was actually one of the reasons she loved him. Rarely did she have to come out and say it. Y/N was mostly quiet during dinner, which was unusual since Chinese was her favorite and most of the time it cheered her up.

Y/N was trying to avoid eye contact for the most part. Her head dipped down, aimlessly stirring the lo mein noodles in her bowl. She didn’t dare look up at him, afraid he’d see right through her façade or spot her watery eyes that she was desperately hoping wouldn’t brim over.

Andy had to hold most of the conversation throughout the evening. He’d asked her how her day was and she had responded with a simple, “Fine” followed by a shrug of her shoulders. And when he had asked her if she was okay, by that time she had more control of her emotions. Forcing a fake, slanted smile across her lips, she responds with,“Yeah, I’m good.”

Shortly after that, Y/N had excused herself. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” Another lie. Andy responded with a nod, as he began to wash the dishes. She couldn’t fight her emotions anymore. And she most certainly wasn’t going to ruin his night by having a breakdown right in front of him. He had enough going on right now with Jacob. The knot in her throat increasingly began to tighten from the tears she refused to let free. She made her way past the bathroom and into the bedroom.

Multiple tears began to overflow before her body could even hit the bed, and before she could grab the decorative pillow to muffle her cries. All of it comes crashing down at full force. She can feel the self hatred start to pour in after a few seconds. Y/N couldn’t ignore the voices anymore. You’re not good enough. You need to let him go, he’s just going to leave you eventually, you’re only holding him back while he’s with you, he deserves better than you…

She wanted to scream. Oh how she wished it would just stop. Y/N hates this, hates how much control her issues have over her, hates how she’s morphed into this person that’s unrecognizable. Most of all, she hates that she put Andy through all of that.

Deep down she knows he probably didn’t buy any ounce of the lies she told. Or the failed attempt she made at masking her sadness. He’s told her time and time again that he’s there for her, that she can vent to him whenever she needs to. Especially that she doesn’t have to hide her feelings from him.

And it surely isn’t Andy’s fault. He’s shown her multiple times that he can be trusted. That he’s one of the last people that will judge her for it. Yet she still finds herself struggling to fully open up to him. To fully trust him.

Y/N didn’t have the easiest upbringing in her childhood. She rarely had anyone to rely on. Her mother would leave her on a pure whim on several occasions, never knowing when she’d come back, which led her having to rely on herself and over the years realizing she could never trust her Mom the way any other child had the privilege of doing.

Before Andy , Y/N found herself never really fully committing. She had been hurt enough times in her life, and frankly she didn’t want to go through that pain again. Many nights she found herself in the bed of someone she had met the prior night, then leaving before they got the wrong idea or before she let herself become attached.

All of that had come to a halt when she met Andy Barber. He was different from her past boyfriends and on their third date she found herself wanting to open up. He was so easy to talk to that she felt the mental wall she had built, dispersing. He had a very comforting presence from the very start. So much so that for a while, she had forgotten that she had any trust or abandonment issues. It hasn’t been until very recently that she finds herself scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared by the commitment of it all. She thought that she had grown— no , healed from this.

Things were getting serious. He was talking to her about meeting his parents and wanting to talk about their future, which in turn makes her want to bolt, despite the love she has for him. To her, it feels only a mere seconds have passed by but in reality, she’s spent several minutes sobbing into the pillow, now curled up into a fetal position.

In the other room, Andy finishes cleaning the final pair of dishes. He’s hesitant. He knows something’s wrong. The signs were all there. The way she looked down at her food, the awkward silence, the crack in her voice when she told him she was fine. He knows that Y/N likes her space but he’s got this nagging feeling he needs to check on her.

He drops the washcloth on the edge of the sink and makes his way down the hallway. He can already hear her sobbing before he reaches the entryway of the bedroom. Quietly, he makes his way over to her. She’s now laying on her stomach, face still pressed against the pillow.

Y/N feels a shift in the weight of the bed. Her sobs have lessened but she’s still struggling to calm down her ragged breathing. A warm hand caresses her lower back, moving in slow circles.

“Hey..,” she mumbles, sitting up on the bed. Cheeks still stain with tears.

“I thought we talked about this? How you don’t have to hide your feelings from me?” Y/N looks down, absent-mindedly playing with the fringe on the pillow.

“I didn’t want to ruin your night,” Y/N’s shoulders slump. “I also didn’t want to be a burden, y’know?”

“You’re not a burden. How many times do I have to tell you before it sinks in?” Andy’s hand reaches up to cup her face, his thumb wiping away the rest of her tears.

Her lips form into a half smile and there’s a small twinkle in her eyes. “Probably a hundred more times.” Her hand reaches up to clasp over the back of his palm. “I’m sorry.” Y/N turns to kiss the inside of his hand before he pulls it away.

Andy lets out another sigh. His heart aches. He hates seeing her like this. And knowing there’s very little he can do to help it. He’d gladly take all the hurt and pain away if he could. “You never need to apologize for crying .”

“No. It’s not that. I feel like I ruined our night.” Y/N mumbles, looking up at him through dark lashes. Even now she still finds it hard to look at him. How could she have been so stupid? She doesn’t deserve him.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Come here.” She manages to look up at him before scooting over and wrapping both arms around his waist. The warmth of his body heat, along with his big arms slinking around her lower back. The hum of his heart beat and the rhythm of his calm breathing soothes her. Y/N feels him press a soft kiss to the top of her head, followed by him whispering, “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” which she nods her head to.

Y/N’s brought back to reality at the touch of Andy’s hands on her shoulders, brows still furrowed in confusion. “Y/N, talk to me.”

She pulls away, wrapping her arms around herself. “You haven’t done anything. I—I just think we need a break.” Y/N dips her head down once again. She feels her heart sink.

Andy cups her face, lifting her chin up. “I feel like you’re pushing me away.”

Y/N takes both of his hands in hers, “That’s why we need a break. I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.” She feels her throat tighten, eyes burning, tears threatening to brim over.

“I’ve packed my things to make this easier on both of us.” Y//N reached for her suitcase she had packed a few hours ago but her boyfriend’s voice stops her.

“Y/N, don’t go. You just got fired. Why don’t you stay until you’re back on your feet?”

Y/N bit down her bottom lip, contemplating. It definitely would be easier instead of going back to her small, sad apartment, panicking to find her next job.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Just until you get on your feet.” His hand reaches up to grab hers. And how can she say no to him when he’s looking at her like this—soft blue eyes, pleading, begging for her to stay. Brows raised in anticipation, hoping she’ll say yes. Even if it’s just for tonight because he’s not ready to let her go. And he doesn’t know how to cope with the thought of her walking out that door or the fact that the other side of the bed is going to be cold and empty.

She sighs in defeat, lips curling up into a faint smile. Deep down she knows she shouldn’t, that it’s just going to make it harder when she finally does leave. But she can’t find it in her heart to walk out that door, not like this. “Okay.”

—

A few weeks later .

Y/N made a promise to herself that she was going to get herself a job and she was moving out as soon as she could. Andy had been very supportive. While she was desperately looking for a new job, he was paying for all of her groceries, along with the rent that was due for the apartment. Y/N thought it was hardly fair but when she’d protest and say “no”, Andy wouldn’t budge. He was determined to help her any way he could.

Nights were lonely. Since Y/N knew she was eventually leaving, Andy and her agreed they’d stay in separate rooms. For months, he had gotten used to her next to him. He missed the warmth of her body, tangled in the twisted sheets. Missed seeing her face the moment he woke up.

Y/N struggled the first few nights as well. She twisted and turned. She was halfway tempted to just storm out the room and crawl into his bed just so she could be in his arms again. She really had underestimated how hard this would be.

The next evening, Andy and Y/N both sat down for dinner like they always did.

“So, I wanted to ask you something,” Andy blurts out, setting his napkin down.

“Okay. What is it?”

“I was thinking,” He places his palm on the back of hers, forcing a nervous smile. “I know you’re moving out eventually. You’ve been working real hard at finding a job — and I’m really proud of you, I am. But having you here this week, it’s got me thinking about giving us one more shot, if you’re willing.”

Oh.

Crestfallen, she pulls her hand back. Oh no. This was a mistake .

“Andy, I meant what I said.”

“I understand that. But what if we tried to work through this?” His heart wrenches in his chest. He knows it’s a long shot and he doesn’t want it to come off like he doesn’t respect her or the boundaries she’s setting.

But the longer she’s stayed, the harder it is to come to terms with her leaving him permanently.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Andy slams his fist on the table in frustration. “Will you just listen!? Stop pushing me away!” Usually he does his best to keep his anger in check but he’s running on low fuel and emotions have been high.

“You think I want to do this?” Y/N snaps. “That I want to leave? I don’t. But, Andy… If I hurt you anymore, I won’t be able to forgive myself.” Y/N shakes her head. Scooting back in the chair, she stands up, beginning to walk away until she feels Andy’s hand on her wrist. “Then don’t.” He whispers. Andy rises from his seat, holding both of her hands in his.

Y/N exhales, turning to face him. “It’s not that simple. And you know it.”

“You’re pushing me away. You’re scared. You’re scared I’ll hurt you so you’re running away.” Andy cups her face and she can’t help but melt into his touch. “You’re not your past. Y/N, You're worthy of love. Don’t push me away.” His words hit her like a train. Y/N knows he’s right and he does too. This time when her eyes burn, she doesn’t fight it. She shakes her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. She can feel her mental walls slowly breaking.

“You’ll get tired of me.” Y/N sniffles, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

“Sweetheart, no.” Andy slinks his arm around her waist, pulling her into him. “I’ll never tire of you. Tell me what I need to do and I’ll be whatever you need.”

“You promise?” Y/N sighs, head resting against his chest.”

“I promise.”

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #my writings #chris evans fanfic #chris evans characters

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sorcharavenlock · 11 months

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12. The Three Musketeers.

Nea and I are only two of the members of the Loki Defence Force, our internet group dedicated to Loki. We made another friend there, Kitty.

This is Kitty. She is one of the sweetest and kindest people I have ever met, and wickedly funny to boot. And she has far more common sense than myself and Nea combined.

It is about time we fill her in, so I call a club meeting.

I greet Kitty with a kiss on her cheek, it's been a while since we last met!

I've told Loki to stay out of sight for now. It's better if Nea and I explain everything first.

"Wait! You performed a seance without having any idea what you are doing? And you thought that was a good idea?"

"it was Marianna's idea, "Nea says quickly. "And her crystal ball! I was just there really."

I glare at her, I distinctly remember it being Nea's idea.

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Kitty interrupts quickly before Nea and I start arguing. "Please tell me nothing happened?"

"yeah, about that..." Nea shrugs apologetically.

("It was Marianna's idea, I'm sure of it!" thinks Nea)

I quickly explain to Kitty we managed to summon the god of Mischief's ghost.

"You mean you summoned Loki himself?" Kitty asks. "I can't believe that worked!"

I grimace. "Yes, and now we are kind of stuck with him. And he's convinced we can find a way to bring him back to life!"

"Mayhap it is better if I explain myself," Loki interrupts as he sits down. "Hello, Kitty."

Kitty nearly jumps out of her skin as Loki materialises.

"With Niflheim in chaos and Valhalla closed to me, I have nowhere to move onto. Perhaps this means I still have an opportunity to come back instead. As a matter of fact, I am certain it is possible, if not extremely difficult.

But if it were easy everyone would do it!"

"Our biggest problem is that we don't even know where to start," I explain. "The tomes in my house contain a lot of useful magic knowledge, but nothing about returning a ghost back to life."

"Have you thought about contacting Thor?" Kitty asks. "He is your brother after all. And he must be missing you terribly. You are the only family he has left."

"Adopted! And, absolutely not!" Loki snaps. "Whatever was between us, it soured a long time ago. His last words to me were, and I quote: 'You really are the worst brother!' No, our paths diverged a long time ago, Thor made that quite clear."

"According to the internet Thor left with the Guardians of the Galaxy anyway," Nea says as she looks it up on her phone.

"How about Doctor Strange then? He is a powerful Sorcerer!"

"Are you mad? That two-bit, second-rate, good-for-nothing, full-of-himself, arrogant..." We wait patiently for Loki to finish his stream of insults.

"So not Doctor Strange then," I say dryly.

"It is not like we have any way of contacting them even if we wanted to anyway," Kitty reminds us.

We are all at a loss.

"There is one person who might be able to help..." Kitty muses suddenly. "If he is real that is. It could just be a legend."

"Well, anything is better than this! Surely it is worth trying!" Loki exclaims.

"My parents used to take us camping to this place in the woods, called Granite Falls. It was rumoured that a hermit lived there who knows more than anyone alive or dead. If you find him, he will answer one question, but one only."

"Brilliant! Let us go camping!" Loki declares. "I love camping!"

I eye him incredulously.

"You love going camping?"

"But of course I do! We used to go on hunting expeditions all the time, Thor, Father, myself and the other nobles! It was glorious!"

"And how many servants did you bring?" Nea asks, just as suspicious as I am. Loki's face falls. He hadn't thought of that.

After a moment, he brightens up again.

"Well, there is only one of me and three of you! Surely that will be enough to suffice!"

I shake my head at him. he has to stop treating us Midgardians as his servants!

"Well, I for one can't wait! I've never gone camping before," Nea grins as she stands up to leave. "it will be fun!"

Kitty and I look at each other and shrug. It looks like we'll be going camping this weekend!

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an-aroaces-harem · 7 months

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Since my coworkers managed to frustrate me in real life like usual, I used it as inspiration for this little snippet. In other words, this thing is pretty much self-indulgent.

But more importantly, where can I find a real life Ellis??? I seriously need him.

"And in the end, he's just a giant ball of fluff who would do everything to make me happy."

As usual, Rose entered the workshop in the morning. Surprisingly, Patricia was already there instead of smoking outside. Mara standing right beside her was nothing new though, she always had the need to latch onto someone—that someone being Patricia currently.

Hearing her enter, Patricia looked up, instantly glaring at Rose for refraining to say "Good morning"; Rose didn't want them to have a good morning, as simple as that.

"Morning, did you bring the money?" Patricia asked her, cutting straight to the point.

Once a month, they collected money from all workers to be able to buy tea and coffee, milk, sugar, sometimes even snacks. This time, they also collected money for one of their bosses because her birthday was at the end of the month.

"I won't pay for Mrs. Wilson but here's the money for our cashbox." Rose wasn't very fond of her boss. Mrs. Wilson could be nice, yes, but also frustratingly strenous.

Normally, now would be time for Mara to quip in. No matter what Rose said, Mara would find a remark. This time though, she kept quiet, just staring at Rose. And she could already guess where the change in behavior came from. Rose had a hard time to prevent herself from smiling.

"Oh, Mara, that reminds me. My boyfriend told me he met you yesterday, you were so kind to tell him the directions," Rose said to her. "He was so happy to finally get to know you after I told him so much about you."

Mara literally shrinked down, eyes darting left and right. Of course, she would react like this. Rose hated Mara, she wanted nothing more than Mara disappearing, and naturally, that's what she would tell Ellis—and he would do everything to make her happy.

"Oh, y-you did?" It was so much fun seeing her quivering like this.

Patricia noticed Mara's odd behavior as well. "Your boyfriend? What's he like?" She loved gossip and Rose barely talked about her relationship. Well, why would she talk about him with people she couldn't stand?

"Ellis? Hmm, he's the kindest man I've ever met, I'm so happy I can call him my boyfriend. He accepts me as I am, with all my quirks and problems," she answered, a slight smile dancing across her lips. "Oh, and he's really tall, I love it. I bet even you feel small next to him, Mara."

Mara had the habit of saying at least once every day "You're all small". The first few times, it was kind of funny because apart from her, all other workers really were on the small side, but it got boring soon. What was so great about being tall, anyway? With her size, she could cuddle up to Ellis and when he wrapped his arms around her, she felt hidden from the world.

She tried her best to supress the incoming giggle forming in her throat. She never thought she would ever feel this giddy about someone.

"Huh? O-oh yeah, I'm surprised you're not afraid of him with you being that small." Did she try to get her confidence back by belittling her? Laughable. Rose could see the fear in her eyes. "I rather imagine you being scared by his height and his kinda eery appearance."

"Eery?" Patricia echoed.

"Oh no. Sure, Ellis might give of eery vibes with his dark looks and everything but he's exactly the right kind of creepy for me, you know?"

A rhetorical question, yet both of them moved away a little.

"And in the end, he's just a giant ball of fluff who would do everything to make me happy." Silence. "Everything in his might, of course."

For Rose, the conversation was over at this point. She made it clear that it definitely wasn't a good idea to mess with her—even mithout mentioning that Ellis would even kill for her if she desired so; and that he was pretty much capable of it.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains ellis #ellis twilight #resa's rambling #my writing #i have problems and i know it #living with mental illnesses is hard

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pha5ed · 9 months

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Situationship || LifeSteal SMP

type :: mostly angst, small fluff

tw/cw :: none

members :: parrot, spoke

Parrot

Best friends that like each other

You two have been best friends for literal ages

The second you met you were inseparable

Everything you did, you guys did together

If one of you was seen without the other, people would ask “Where’s Parrot?” “Where’s Y/N?”

You would constantly get asked if you’re dating or not

Parrot and you would awkwardly laugh it off and say that you’re just friends and nothing more

But you always hoped that he would admit that he liked you too

Both of you knew each other so well that you already knew that a romantic relationship wasn’t the right move at the moment

Going to college, doing YouTube, family issues, and all of that was in the way of a possible relationship

But even though you knew a relationship would be hard to maintain, why not do it?

The tension between you two was growing more and more as you both got older

And also, you were slowly getting hurt from this tension

Seeing Parrot talk to other people made your heart twist in a way you didn’t know was possible

Your other friends would make comments saying things like, “If you wont take him, I will”

You’ve never felt a more gut-wrenching feeling than hearing that sentence leave your friend’s lips

Telling your friend she can’t have him would make you seem possessive and clingy

But telling your friend yes meant risking the chance of losing your best friend and crush

You thought you were completely alone and that it was a one sided relationship

But Parrot thinks the same exact thing

Every time he saw you with another guy talking, he’d instantly get the urge to drag you away

Although it was cocky to think, Parrot knew that no one would be able to compare to the chemistry you two have

He wants to confess so badly, to finally release all of the pent up emotions he feels

But he’s terrified of the idea of you rejecting him

He would never want to lose you as a friend, you were one of the best people in his life

One day, he will get the balls to confess

But right now, you two are basically dating but without a title or promised commitment

But you both know you’ll stay committed to each other :)

Spoke

Exes that are still friends

The idea of having beef with someone doesn’t sit right with Spoke

Your relationship didn’t end for awful reasons, just a lot of differences and outside issues

Of course, you two took space from each other after the break up

But randomly, Spoke sent you a message saying he wants to be friends and drop the awkwardness

You two shared the same friend group so your break up kinda made the group a bit rocky

He made it clear he doesn’t expect any forgiveness, kindness, or even a friendship but just enough courtesy to not be awkward with your friend group

You agree to what he said and the group slowly repairs itself

But as the group fixes itself and got closer, so did you and Spoke

At first you didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn’t help but fall for him all over again

He always made you cry from laughing so hard

Whenever you were a dollar or two short for something, he’d always pay the rest for you

He’d always save you a seat next to him whenever it was crowded

And if it was too crowded, he’d always give you his seat

You guys went from no contact to group hang outs to him walking you home

You’re not sure how he did it, but he snuck himself back into your life

He did everything he used to do when you two were dating, except without any physical affection

And you didn’t want to say it, but you missed the hugs, kisses, everything

How could he act like this was all so normal when he’s literally saying goodbye to your parents and your little siblings?

It got to the point where you needed to distance yourself from him or else you would fall too hard

You love Spoke, he was one of the kindest and funniest people you’ve ever met

But you were scared that liking him again meant that your friendship would be over

You missed him so much while you two went no contact, you can’t imagine having to relive that

So you both stick with this relationship, where you both act like you’re dating except with no title

It confuses the fuck out of the friend group but they accept it

Maybe one day you’ll date again or maybe you’ll realize it’s not the right time for you too

#lifesteal smp #mcyt #parrot x reader #spoke x reader #parrotx2 x reader #spokeishere x reader #parrot #parrotx2 #spokeishere #spoke #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #lifesteal fanfic #lifesteal smp fanfic #lifesteal x reader #lifesteal smp x reader #reader insert #x reader #situationships

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aidanchaser · 1 year

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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter Five

Table of Contents Read on Ao3 Prologue

beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer and @aubsenroute

Chapter Five The Crown Prince

Marinette ran into her mother quite literally on one of the palace’s many staircases. She nearly toppled back down, but her mother caught her and pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, Marinette, I’m so glad you’re all right! What happened? Where were you?”

“Um—” Marinette stumbled over her lie, as she often did. “Prince Félix sent me to get help, so I did. Did Ladybug take care of everything?”

“Well, I am no longer gold, so I think she must have. You’re sure you’re all right, Marinette? You look flushed.”

“Just… running around looking for you, Maman!”

“Let’s get down to the kitchens and get you something to cool you down.”

Marinette followed her mother obediently, though she knew that running was only part of the reason she was flushed. She really had not expected Prince Adrien to ask her personally to the ball. Well, he had asked Ladybug, which really wasn’t the same thing as asking Marinette.

Tikki was safely tucked away in her apron pocket, and Marinette did not dare talk to her in front of her mother, but she had an idea of what Tikki would say. Using the miraculous gift to attend a ball was an abuse of her abilities. That’s not what the gift was for. It was for helping people, and it was not a party trick.

Besides, Marinette did not have time to attend the ball. She would be working on dresses for half of the kingdom by the end of the day, and that work would take up all of her time. There would be no time for a dress for herself, and surely she’d be up all night working on repairs for nobility during the ball itself. She was unsure that she would even have time to patrol the city as Ladybug in the evenings like she had gotten into the habit of doing, let alone get all of her work done.

But the idea of going to a ball did sound nice...

Her mother led her down into the kitchens and sat her down with a glass of water. “I’m so glad that monster didn’t hurt you.”

“She’s not a monster, Maman, she was just cursed. It could happen to anyone.”

Sabine Cheng looked skeptical. “Lady Bourgeois is not the kindest person I’ve ever met. I’m surprised it took this long for something to irritate her to the point of being cursed.”

Marinette responded with a noncommittal murmur as she took a sip of water. “Did you get everything taken care of with the Duchess for the pastry order?” she asked.

“Mostly.” Sabine picked up the suggested menu she and Duchess Amelie had been discussing before Audrey Bourgeois’ attack had interrupted them. “Did you finish getting the princes’ measurements?”

“I finished measuring Prince Félix, but I didn’t get a chance to see Prince Adrien.”

“It certainly is kind of your master to let you handle an order of this magnitude. He must trust you a good deal to let you work with the royal family.”

“It’s just measurements, Maman. Master Fu will do all the design work and detail himself, like he always does for our bigger clients. But I’m sure I’ll get to make plenty of dresses for all the girls who want to attend.”

“What about your own dress?”

Marinette laughed. “There’s no way I’ll have time for that. I won’t be going, but I’ll get a lot of work out of it. And I can use all of those contacts when I start up my own shop this spring.”

“Surely you could go for one night.” Sabine loved that her daughter worked hard, but she knew that fun was equally important for Marinette’s health. “Your father and I have agreed to let Alya and Nino off for the last night so that they can go.”

“Is Nino invited?”

Sabine pursed her lips. “I’m not sure if boys are invited. It seems rude to invite only girls, but I suppose he could just put on a wig.”

Marinette and Sabine broke into laughter, and they were still laughing when Duchess Amelie Graham de Vanily arrived.

She looked no worse for wear from her time spent as a golden statue. Her black dress still hung evenly and unwrinkled, and and her rouge still looked freshly applied. Even the dark lines around her eyes were neat and thin. Her smile, however, was a bit strained as she approached Sabine and Marinette.

“I’m terribly sorry that our discussion was interrupted,” she said. “Everything is in order now. I’m glad to see that you and your daughter are unhurt.”

Sabine dipped her head. “Thank you, Your Grace. And you and the princes are all right?”

“Quite,” Amelie replied. She turned her thin smile on Marinette. “Prince Félix told me how you saved him, at least briefly. We appreciate your kindness.”

Marinette hurriedly dropped into a curtsey. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more, Your Grace.”

Amelie’s smile faded, and her deep green eyes slid towards the stairs. There was something weighing down her shoulders, but Marinette could not identify it.

“I’m afraid I will have to cut both of your works short. Madame Cheng, you have enough to place your order and begin your work, do you not?”

“Oh, yes. Is everything all right?”

“We had a… development in the throne room after Ladybug saved us. I don’t believe Lady Bourgeois is in anymore danger, but she is certainly displeased with Mademoiselle Rossi. Until King Gabriel makes his appearance, Prince Adrien and I shall have to deal with them. So I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. And Mademoiselle—er—” She tipped her head as she looked at Marinette. “Mademoiselle Cheng?”

Marinette curtsied. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, Your Grace.”

“Ah. Of course. Well, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, we will have the princes’ measurements sent over later today. I’m afraid Prince Adrien will be occupied for some time.”

“As it pleases you,” Marinette curtsied again. “I did already finish with Prince Félix, if that helps, though he said I ought to consult with you about the style and scheme.”

Amelie waved her hand and turned to go. “Whatever Félix said is fine. Thank you again for your assistance, both of you.”

And with that, Marinette and her mother were dismissed from the palace.

“Well,” Sabine said as she opened the umbrella to shield her and Marinette from the downpour of the storm, “look at you, visiting the palace twice in a week. And a personal thank you from the Duchess, no less.”

Marinette could not help a smile. She loved that her parents were proud of her, and she was so grateful to them for supporting her work. It would have been so much easier for her parents to insist that she follow in their footsteps and run the bakery just as they had and just as her grandfather and his father had, but instead they had seen a passion for design and had supported her in that. They had helped her find her apprenticeship, and while she knew that her work doing deliveries for the bakery paid for some of her apprenticeship, it did not pay for all of it.

She leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder, both to avoid the worst of the rain and to show her gratitude. She loved her parents, and it was hard to lie to them about her secret life as a hero. It helped, at least, that she was confident that they would support her as they always had.

Her master’s shop was closer to the palace than the boulangerie, so Sabine stopped to let Marinette out from under the umbrella.

“You’ll be home for supper?” Sabine asked.

“Yes, Maman,” Marinette promised. She hoped that since Hawk Moth had struck that morning, he would not bother to attack again that evening.

Sabine kissed her cheek and continued onto the boulangerie, and Marinette opened the door to the shop. The bell above the door rang to announce her entrance, and she found her master already seated at the low tea table.

Master Fu was an elderly man who had trained in his craft around the world before finally settling down in the city and opening his own shop. His back was stooped from years spent bent over fabric, and now he was hardly half of Marinette’s height, but despite his elderly age, his eyes were still keen and could pick out any mistakes in Marinette’s stitches from across the room.

He was not an unkind master; he was patient with Marinette and had taught her well. He often trusted her with work for his wealthiest customers, and had allowed her to begin using her own designs and patterns with some of their clients.

She hovered in the doorway, unsure why he had poured tea for two. It was odd, she thought, for him to take a break in the middle of the day when they were surely already overwhelmed with work for the ball. “Is everything all right, Master?” Marinette asked.

“Everything is quite well, Marinette. Please, sit.” He gestured to the silk pillow set on the floor beside the low table.

When Marinette had first met Master Fu at the age of thirteen, she had thought that his low table and floor-seating had to do with his compressed stature. It wasn’t until she was older and had been exposed to much of the wider world through stories of her master’s travels and her mother’s family that she had understood this was simply what tables were like elsewhere in the world.

As Marinette reluctantly shuffled towards the table, she tripped over the rug. Her Master, however, was quite used to Marinette’s unending war with gravity, and waited patiently for her to seat herself comfortably. Once she was settled, he handed her a cup of green tea.

Though Marinette had been ignorant about many things when she had first arrived at Master Fu’s shop to begin her apprenticeship, green tea was not one of them. It was her favorite part of these quiet, serious chats because the earthy smell reminded her of her mother.

“It is quite a storm out there,” Master Fu said, his dark eyes turned towards the shop windows.

Outside, rain still pelted the windows. The thunder and lightning had subsided, but there was an occasional flash overhead. The air still felt charged with the storm’s energy, and Marinette’s ruby earrings felt unusually warm and heavy.

“And after the storm, there will be a unique sort of beauty.” Master Fu took a small sip of his tea. “Something new is always created in the wake of chaos and destruction. It is a beautiful relationship, is it not?”

“Er—yes, it is.” Marinette was not entirely sure where Master Fu was going with this. She wondered if she had made some sort of mistake and Master Fu was going to show her how to fix it. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to remember if she had double-checked the measurements on Monsieur Stone’s waistcoat or if perhaps she had taken it in too tightly.

But when she searched Master Fu for clues, she found none. He continued his serene gaze out the window. The red and white linen tunic he wore was comfortable and casual, no different from his normal work attire. He had not brought any new work out into the front of the shop to show her. She did notice a small stack of papers on the table beside him, but Marinette was used to order forms constantly at Master Fu’s elbow, especially with how overwhelmed they must be today.

There was nothing Marinette could do but wait for her master to be ready.

Finally, he lifted one of the papers from the table and passed it to her. “This arrived for you today, shortly after you left to take the princes’ measurements.”

It was identical to the invitation that Audrey Bourgeois had been cursed with. Marinette stared at it blankly. “I—I knew I would get one, but Master—surely I can’t attend.”

Master Fu raised an eyebrow. “Surely?”

“I mean… we have so much work to do.”

“And what is the point of working so hard if we do not take the time to have fun?”

Marinette chewed on her lower lip. “I won’t have time to work on my own dress.”

“Then allow me.”

“I couldn’t—”

Master Fu raised a hand to silence her. “It is tradition for a master to give a gift of craftsmanship to his apprentice when they are ready to strike out on their own. Allow this to be my gift to you.”

“I—I suppose Maman said she was going to let Alya off for the third night. It might be fun to go with Alya…”

Master Fu smiled. “Then it is settled. You will attend the third night, and I will have a dress ready for you.”

Marinette ran her thumb along the invitation. She traced Prince Adrien’s name. He had invited her personally—no, he had invited Ladybug. Prince Adrien only knew her as the girl who had tripped and nearly spilled his dessert right into his lap.

“Thank you, Master.” She set the invitation aside. “Was there anything else?”

“There is one other thing.” Master Fu lifted a small stack of papers and presented it to her. “These are the notes I have gathered for the orders for the princes. I would like you to manage it.”

“Me?”

Master Fu nodded. “You, Marinette. Consider it your commencement piece.”

“That’s six outfits! From scratch! Six designs and patterns and—and for the royal family—”

“I have full confidence in you. Do not worry; I shall manage all the gowns and tailoring that come through, and I think I will need to hire an assistant to take care of small stitches and modifications, but I will allow you to devote all of your time and attention to these six suits for the princes.”

Marinette scoured her brain for another protest, an argument, anything to counter her master’s insistence, but he looked as calm and confident as he ever did. He trusted her, and she was determined not to let him down.

“Thank you, Master Fu,” she finally said. “It is a great honor.”

“I am sure you will meet it spectacularly.” There was a twinkle in his dark eyes as he smiled at her. “Now, I think you ought to get started, no?”

Marinette stood, stumbled only once, and disappeared into the attached storage room that had slowly been converted into her private workspace.

She spent the rest of the day in that room, poring over the notes her master had on the royal family. There had been orders from balls in the past, when the princes were younger. Years ago, Master Fu had prepared Emilie and Amelie’s dresses before Emilie had become Queen, and had even done several of Amelie’s dresses for Queen Emilie’s many balls. He had also helped the royal tailor with the entire mourning wardrobe for the royal family after Queen Emilie had fallen asleep and Amelie’s husband had disappeared.

Marinette had helped with that order, too. She had not worked closely with the royal family as her master had, but after hunting down the flower to dye the fabric with, she had stitched each gem and ribbon into place, and she had thought of how hard it must have been for those boys to lose so much family in a single night.

She remembered Prince Félix’s comment, that he would prefer to wear mourning attire to his own birthday celebration. She supposed a year would not be enough to get over the loss of her father. She wondered if Prince Adrien felt similarly. He certainly hadn’t appeared to have any reservations about the ball when he had invited Ladybug.

She may not have had Prince Adrien’s measurements yet, but she had plenty to help her get started on new designs.

Marinette was about thirty sketches deep before she heard a knock on her door. She stretched her surprisingly stiff shoulders and opened the door of her workroom for Master Fu.

“Is it lunch time already?” she asked.

“You worked through lunch,” he said, only a hint of chastisement in his voice. “It’s very nearly supper time.”

“Oh!” Surprise quickly turned to worry. “Oh no, I promised Maman—”

“There is someone here to see you.”

Marinette frowned and stared over Master Fu’s head to the shop doorway. The storm still raged outside, but between the dark, gloomy windows, she saw the silhouette of a person. It didn’t look like Nino or Alya, and as she squinted, her visitor stepped into the light of the foyer.

“I hope it’s not too late to have my measurements taken?”

He had golden hair and bright eyes, but it was his fine, deep black mourning attire that truly gave him away. Though she did not know how to tell Prince Adrien and Prince Félix apart, she could at least guess by the question that this one was Prince Adrien.

“Oh—I just—I wasn’t expecting—” Marinette stared, unsure what exactly she was supposed to say. She dropped into a curtsy.

“You don’t have to…” Prince Adrien bit down on his lip and glanced over his shoulder. In a flash of lightning, Marinette could see the gilded carriage outside their shop and the shape of a burly bodyguard positioned at the door.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Prince Adrien said, turning back to Marinette. “And I don’t get out of the palace often, or at all really, but I managed to convince my father that it would be too much to ask you to come back to the palace in the storm, and the best thing would be for me to come to you.”

Adrien had bartered hard for this small glimpse of freedom. He needed out of the palace, away from the demands of Lady Bourgeois and the smug smile of Lila Rossi. If he had been able to just slip away from his duties altogether, he would have turned into Chat Noir and braved the storm, but he was forced to sit at his father’s side and listen to two women whom he did not love make passioned pleas for his hand in marriage. And, once it was finally over—with no real resolution other than placating promises that he would reserve a dance for each of them on each night at the ball—he had been told that he had to wait before retiring, that his father would send for the tailor right away.

If Adrien had been forced to sit in that palace for another minute, he was afraid he might lose his mind. So he had exchanged his precious, few free hours in the evenings—time that Chat Noir might have spent patrolling with Ladybug—to his father, extra hours going over reports from advisors or practicing harpsichord or fencing, whatever his father deemed a fitting use of his time. It seemed worth it for one, free breath of fresh air outside the palace as Adrien Agreste.

Well, he was still Crown Prince Adrien Agreste, but if the seamstress would stop curtsying, maybe he could forget that for a moment.

“Is it… all right that I’m here?” Adrien asked.

“We are more than happy to have you,” Master Fu bowed. “Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng has been hard at work on the designs for you and your cousin, as well. Perhaps, if you have enough time, you can review them with her once she has finished with your measurements.”

Adrien blinked in surprise. “Oh, really? My aunt said you were the one who did all of her dresses when she was a girl.”

Master Fu smiled. “I assure you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng is up to the task. Please,” and he gestured to Marinette’s workroom door.

Marinette hastily cleared away papers from the center of the room and kicked aside a stool so that there was room for Adrien to stand in the middle.

“I’m sorry for the stress—I mean—the mess.”

Adrien’s smile was soft, gentle, and a little bit sad as he surveyed the designs tacked to the wall haphazardly, the work desk piled in disorganized notes and sketches, and the mirror with more sketches pinned to it and fabric draped over it. “My uncle was an artist, too. I seem to recall the same sort of organized chaos in his work.”

Marinette swallowed hard as she took in Adrien’s melancholy smile. She remembered Felix’s grief too, though it had seemed harder on the edges. The princes looked alike, certainly, but they carried their burdens differently.

“Um, Your Highness, would you like your guard in here, since, well, you’ll need to, er, undress?”

Prince Adrien shrugged and glanced at the open door. “Your master isn’t far, is he?”

“No, I suppose not.” And Marinette wondered why her face was so hot as she helped Adrien out of his outerwear. She had not been nearly so embarrassed with Prince Félix. In fact, he had complimented her professionalism, so why was it so different all of a sudden?

She swallowed down her embarrassment and reached for her measuring tape.

“My cousin said you’ve been doing this for a while now.”

Marinette scribbled down the measurements for Adrien’s arm-length and his wrist. “Yes. I’ll be finished with my apprenticeship by the end of the year.”

“That explains why your master trusts you so much, then.”

“He’s trained me well.” As Marinette measured the breadth of Prince Adrien’s shoulders, she searched for a professional line of conversation. “Have you thought about what exactly you want to wear to the ball?”

Adrien glanced at his clothes that she had neatly folded and placed on her stool. They were the only orderly thing about this place.

“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “I’ve been wearing black for so long. It’s definitely what I’m most comfortable in. But…”

“But?”

“My father won’t approve.”

Marinette stuck her pencil in her mouth as she measured Adrien’s inseam. “Dubess Amewie said bat Pwince Féwix could poose his owm oubfibs.”

Adrien tried and failed to hide a smile. “Duchess Amelie is a lot less demanding than my father. I expect he’ll want me in red and gold, just like him.”

“I did a few designs in the royal colors,” she said as she scribbled down her notes. There was something unsettling about Prince Adrien’s measurements… She finished his chest and height measurements hurriedly, then flipped through her notes to her measurements of Prince Félix earlier that day. The measurements were identical. She supposed they were cousins, and it wasn’t that odd… But when she flipped back through her master’s notes on the royal family, she found that the prince’s measurements were identical there, as well. Every single measurement, every single time they had been taken, matched perfectly. Even their mothers, who were identical twins, had subtle variations, but not the princes.

But before Marinette could make sense of this oddity, Prince Adrien said, rather abruptly, “I don’t really feel ready.”

She looked up from her notes and noticed that Prince Adrien’s eyes weren’t the same steely gray-blue as his cousin’s. They were a brilliant green. She wondered if it was the same green that Master Fu had described in his notes on Emilie from her time as a Duchess.

“‘Ready?’” she repeated.

“To… to switch out of mourning attire.”

But it sounded like a half-truth. Marinette could not imagine what the rest of it would be. She wondered if perhaps the burdens of being a prince were not unlike the burdens of being a hero.

“I think,” she managed, “that if I lost my mother, I’d never quite feel ready.”

He smiled, but it was still sad. It seemed like all of Prince Adrien’s smiles were sad, and she could understand why.

Marinette yanked a few of her sketches out of the disorganized pile. “You know, there are three nights of the ball. I had some ideas—well, it’s your choice, but what do you think about these?”

Adrien took the sketches from her hand, careful not to smudge the charcoal. Some of them were even still damp with paint. He was amazed that she had done all of this in just the time since she had left the palace. He was more amazed by the care she had shown in the designs before she had even spoken to him.

The first one she handed him was, as she had said, in the colors of the royal palace. Red tights, a white and gold doublet, braiding appropriate for a prince, all things his father would approve of. There were others in blacks and dark blues, likely designed with Félix’s request for mourning attire in mind, but there was no way King Gabriel would let Adrien wear something like that.

But the sketch that made Adrien pause was of a white doublet, paired with a jerkin decorated in pale greens and white lilies. Adrien did not know how this young seamstress could have known his mother so well, but there she was. It was her style, as certainly as if Emilie Agreste had commissioned it herself. He brushed the sketch and his fingertips turned green from the still-drying paints, but he did not care.

“How did you…?”

“Master Fu used to design your mother’s dresses before she became queen and had a royal tailor. He gave me all the notes for your mother and your aunt. When Prince Félix told me that he wasn’t ready to give up his mourning attire, I had thought that maybe you would feel similarly. Or that maybe you might want a bit of your mother in your outfit.”

Adrien swallowed hard, surprised by the way tears welled up in his throat. He had cried plenty of nights alone in his room, but he had not come this close to tears in front of another person in a long time.

He returned the sketches to the table without looking through the rest. “It’s not really up to me. You can have your designs sent to my father, and he’ll let you know what he thinks.”

“Oh. Well, I can do that, but I’d also like to know what you think. You’re the one who has to wear it, after all.”

“I’ll do whatever my father thinks is best. Thank you, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, for all your help. I’m sure what you put together will be perfect.”

Somehow, Prince Adrien’s eyes did not seem so green anymore as Marinette helped him back into his clothes. She searched for a smile, even if it was his sad one, but she found no trace of it.

“Do you—” she bit down on her lip, surprised the question had even dared to breach her lips. “Er—never mind.”

Prince Adrien tipped his head to one side. “What is it?”

Marinette scrambled for a lie, for some other question she could ask, but she came up empty. Despite having lied about moonlighting as a hero for the past year, she had never quite mastered the art of deceit. “I just thought, well, my parents run one of the best bakeries in the city, and I didn’t know if you had eaten, and my mother said she’s making supper, and… Sorry. It was silly, and I shouldn’t have asked it.” But he had just looked so terribly sad, and she wanted to offer something to help.

At least he smiled now. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, truly, but I ought to return to the palace before my father sends the entire guard to fetch me.”

Marinette gathered up her notes and sketches so that she could continue her work at home and walked Prince Adrien to the door. She called a brief good night to Master Fu and the shop bell jingled over hers and Prince Adrien’s heads as they stepped out into the storm.

The large, burly guard had an umbrella ready for the prince and held it over his and Marinette’s head to hold off the worst of the storm. Marinette remembered belatedly that she had not brought an umbrella. She had walked to the palace with her mother that morning, and had not thought to bring her own. She tucked the sketches into her coat and prayed to Tikki for a bit of luck getting it home safely.

Adrien scanned her empty hands. “Why don’t you come with me in the carriage? We’d be happy to drop you at your home so you don’t have to brave the storm.”

Marinette’s mind reeled from the very idea of her, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, bakery girl and tailor’s apprentice, riding in the royal carriage with Crown Prince Adrien Agreste. “I—I couldn’t—”

“I can’t let you walk home in the rain alone.”

“The bakery is in the opposite direction—I—you said that your father would worry. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

Adrien glanced back in the direction of the palace. She was right, of course; his father would worry. The curtain had fallen on his brief playact at freedom. “Then at least take the umbrella, to keep you and your sketches dry.”

Prince Adrien took the umbrella from his bodyguard’s hands and placed it in Marinette’s. As her fingers brushed his, her cheeks grew hot and a strange spark seemed to travel up her arm, not unlike the magic that filled her when she was Ladybug.

Words clamored up her throat, all a mess, jumbled, fighting for freedom and in the end, she could not even stammer out a thank you.

As the bodyguard opened the carriage door for Prince Adrien and he stepped out into the rain, the umbrella collapsed on top of Marinette. She yelped in surprise and Prince Adrien gasped—and then he burst out into laughter.

It was unexpected on both his part and his bodyguard’s part, and Adrien wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. Well, Chat Noir got to laugh, and Prince Adrien laughed politely, but Adrien could not recall the last time he had truly laughed in earnest. It felt… good.

Marinette pushed the umbrella back up into its proper position and could not help but smile shyly. Prince Adrien’s green eyes were bright again and he looked genuinely happy. Even though the laughter faded and she could still see sadness in his smile, she was certain that there was the tiniest bit more joy in it. Something new burned in her chest that she could not describe.

“Thank you again,” Prince Adrien said, unbothered by the rain that still pelted him as he hovered between the shelter of the umbrella and the cover of the carriage. “I look forward to seeing what you create.”

Marinette could only nod, utterly dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

Adrien climbed into the carriage, uncaring that he soaked the white linen cushions and their gold embroidery as he sat down. The moment that the door closed, Plagg flew out from under the seats and nestled onto Adrien’s shoulder.

“Hey, what happened in there?” Plagg demanded. “Did I just hear you laugh? Like really laugh?”

Adrien rubbed his jaw, like even he could not quite believe his own smile. “I guess I did. Sorry that I couldn’t bring you with me. There’s not exactly anywhere for you to hide while a seamstress is taking measurements.”

“What did she say to you, though?”

“She didn’t say anything. She just… it was funny.” Adrien shrugged. “She was kind.”

As the carriage rolled away, Marinette could only stare after it, still stunned. Once it was out of sight, her wits slowly returned to her, but the burning in her chest did not fade. Unsure what to do with the energy that swelled in her, she ran home.

It was a cold winter storm, but she hardly noticed the biting wind. Everything in her felt hot, and her breath came fast and desperate as she ran. When she reached the boulangerie, she hardly heard her parents greet her and tell her supper was nearly ready. She ran up the three flights of stairs to her attic bedroom and dropped her sketches onto her bed.

They were perfectly dry, thanks to Prince Adrien’s umbrella. Even the green thumbprint that Prince Adrien had left behind on her designs was unsmudged.

She stared at them, unsure what to do with the giddy feeling that was climbing from her stomach and into her throat. It burst out of her in a silly, girlish giggle and she clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle it.

Tikki slipped out of Marinette’s cloak pocket and hovered in front of her at eye level. “Marinette, is this a crush?”

Marinette shook her head desperately, but she knew that she was lying. She swallowed hard and reached for the notes she had just finished on Prince Adrien’s measurements. Her cheeks felt hot as she looked over them.

“I can’t, Tikki! He’s a prince. I can’t have a crush on a prince!”

Tikki’s smile was both kind and mischievous. “I don’t know that you get to choose, Marinette.”

Marinette fell back into her chair with a groan, unable to take her eyes off of her sketches. As the storm finally lifted, and raindrops stopped pelting the windows of Marinette’s attic bedroom, she was forced to admit that not only did she definitely have a crush on Prince Adrien, she was going to spend the next month thinking about nothing except his body and how to dress it. She supposed she would have to make time to patrol as Ladybug, or she would go absolutely mad obsessing over a prince.

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfic #fairy tale au #ml fairy tale au

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kagakuoniryu · 2 years

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Hi! How are you doing? I came to make a request. Here's the theme. Viego (before death) x fem!reader, who has magical abilities. Reader is the daughter of a count who is the best friend of Viego's father. And Viego has a crush on her. But no one knows that Reader's father is a sick bastard. Constantly beats her up. Once he even threatened her with a knife. And he also killed Reader's mother right in front of her eyes when the girl was only seven years old. Reader has magical powers (ice power). She hides it from her father because he hates magicians. How does Viego know that the one he's in love with has magic? How will he know that Reader's father is treating her very cruelly? What will he do? And how does he confess his love to the count's daughter? Thank you very much!

Synopsis :

Viego x fem reader with magical habilities

Type :

headcanon

Warning :

Mentions of abuse and reader's father being a shitty person, viego however is all lovey dovey

A/N :

It took me a while because the whole description of the ask is very complete and I had to organize everything, I hope you don't mind it, anyway here it is ; I added a thing or two to make the reader's father even less likeable

And I might have gotten carried away

~~~~~~~~~~

You met viego when you started your debut as the count's daughter, your father has his fair share of influence, guess being the best friend of a king help a lot

At that time viego was a bit older, while you were 15 he was 16 or 17, and was already playing with girl, making promise, sleeping with ladys and breaking everyone's heart

He wasn't the one who were supposed to access the throne and he was happy like this, with no responsability

Your father presented you to the royal family in hope you caught the eyes of the older prince, making you the next queen

The older prince was already in his mid 20's, even if at this time it was common for young lady to marry older men, it still didn't sat right with you

Of course your relation with your father wasn't good at all, the trauma he caused you made you forget a lot of the past years but you could still remember clearly the lifeless body of you mother after your father killed her but you had no choice except obeying

The older prince didn't cared much about you outside of the formalities as a soon to be countess, however the second prince, viego, fell in love with you the second he laid his eyes on you

He asked you to grant him a dance and so you did, in the ballroom time seemed to stop as the two of you waltzed together

He didn't tell you right away he fell in love, he found the idea stupid, he wanted to court you properly and ask your hand to you father, for now, he proposed a walk in the royal garden you accepted

The walk went nicely and you both returned safe inside, when the ball ended your father wasn't yet satisfied with the outcome of the ball, you still didn't managed to catch the first prince eyes, but you couldn't care less

So at each ball you met viego and spent time together, in the meantime you discovered you had ice magic, and learned how to use it properly without your father's knowledge, he hated magicians after all

Finally you reached 18, the age for every proper lady to get married, you hoped that at tonight's ball viego will ask for your end, he wasn't the smartest, a bit goofy sometime but he was the kindest, sweetest men you ever encountered, a rumor among Camavor that a noble lady had caught the eye of the second prince, changing him completely from a prideful man into someone fully devoted in his lover

Arriving at the castle the events repeated : the dance at the ball after finding viego and then a walk in the garden

Viego specifically asked the garden to have red rose this time, in order to show you his true and pure love for you

The this time the walk didn't go as planned, an assassin came in order to attack viego's older brother and found you both, attacking you instead, viego didn't have his weapon on him and wasn't able to defend you, but you didn't needed weapon, instead you used you ice magic to stop them

Viego was speechless now knowing you had power, you made him promise to not tell you dad, no matter the circumstances

He agreed and you continued to walk as if nothing happened, later, around all the red roses, viego finally confessed to you, asking you to marry him

Of course you couldn't deny him, you dreamed of this for the time you got to know him

Going back to the main ballroom viego happily announced you were now his fiance

Your father said nothing but you could notice the way his fist clenched and he greeted his teeth

After the ball, in the privacy of your manor, your father was out of control and beat you like he never did before

Thanks to the maids you were able to escape and run to viego's castle, asking the guard to call for viego

Once viego saw you he was overjoyed you joined him for the night, but that's when he went to hug you and you emitted cry of pain he knew something was wrong

He told you to get comfortable in the guest room and called for a healer who made miracle on your back before you got to pass out due to the pain

The next morning viego came to ask you what happened, you told him everything, the death of your mother, the constant abuse, your father plans for you to marry his brother, only cut short because you decided to become viego's spouse

He stayed quiet, and then left to talk to his father and brother, he knew since the count was close to his family the best thing to do was to negociate your stay in their castle and they agreed to it

When viego's brother went on the throne, before dying, leaving viego in charge of the country, you finally became his queen

He married you against your father's wishes, and condamned him to death for all the things he did to you

You were a loved queen who took action against child abuse and abuse in general, to prevent and protect

Your fairy tale started as a giant chaos but now it's time for your happy ending with the man of your dream

~hope you'll like it~

🌸Request are open🌸

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how-to-hide-a-body · 2 years

Text

Bittersweet Hellos

Kind of sad Steddie content, it’s after the Vecna stuff. It’s not fixed just a different type of broken.

There are some Ronance and Steddie moments also a main character is dead and some are injured.

Total Word Count: 2,090

It had been almost two and a half months since everything with Vecna went down. The town had gone back to its semi-normalness, most people pretended the earthquake hadn’t happened. Most destroyed homes had been rebuilt, but so many people moved out it wasn’t like it mattered much anyways. Eddie and Steve had been sitting in silence in Steve’s room for the past twenty minutes. Steve’s house was like a second home to Eddie, Robin, and Max. There were many nights that the four of them would crash in the otherwise empty house. And though he’d never admit it Steve enjoyed not spending his days alone.

Eddie sat on the floor, quietly plucking at his guitar strings. He suddenly stopped and looked up at Steve, who was sitting on his bed and staring out the window. “Hey Steve?” Eddie asked, “Could we cuddle, I’ve been feeling kind of down.” Steve turned to face Eddie and motioned for him to come closer. Eddie climbed into the bed and placed his head in Steve’s lap.

“Honestly, I haven’t been feeling the best either,” Steve admitted as he played with Eddie’s hair, “I just can’t stop thinking about everything. Vecna, the murders, fighting him in the upside down. We lost so many people, the earthquake wrecked so much, Max might never be able to walk or see again, she might not even wake up. And he’s-” Steve stopped playing with Eddie’s hair, one hand balled into a fist and the other tried to keep his pain from getting out. “He wasn’t supposed to- I should’ve” He couldn’t contain his sorrow anymore, his sobs escaped him and all Steve could mutter anymore was “I’m sorry” in between sobs. Eddie got up from Steve’s lap and pulled him into an embrace. Eddie placed Steve’s face into his neck and tried to provide him with some comfort by rubbing his back and stroking his hair.

"I know, it's been rough. I miss him too, sometimes it feels like he’s still here." Eddie got choked up and started to cry too, "But we have to acknowledge it, he's gone. Dustin sacrificed himself for everyone, he was the bravest and kindest person I’ll ever know. Through everything he never changed who he was, and he was fucking brilliant.”

“He was wasn’t he,” Steve gave a melancholy smile and wrapped his arms around Eddie. So the two just sat on Steve’s bed, holding one another and telling tales of Dustin Henderson with teary eyes and shaky breaths.

They sat like this for a while before Eddie pulled away, “As much as I would love to spend all day here with you, me and Henderson have a graduation to make,” Eddie smiled and started to leave before calling back, “See you for dinner with Mrs. Henderson,”

Steve wiped the remnants of tears from his face and replied, “Of course, but you’ve got to be out of your mind if you think I’d miss you flipping Principal Higgins the bird,” They both laughed as Eddie grabbed his jacket and left.

Eddie raced home and got his cap and gown on. Looking in the mirror Eddie grabbed two photos. One was of him and Dustin on Halloween, Dustin was the scarecrow and he had been the cowardly lion, Lucas had been the tin man. Lucas wasn’t in the photo though because he had been arguing with Erica, she wanted him to take her trick or treating. Mike refused to be in the picture after they had forced him to be the wizard, or rather the man behind the curtain. The other was one he had gotten from Nancy, she had gotten him a picture of Chrissy. Eddie had always loved the idea of being sucked into a fantasy world, going on some great adventure. Though now he had and it seemed so silly to want to do something that caused him so much pain. Eddie liked to think that if Chrissy had befriended him sooner, she could’ve been Dorothy to complete their costumes. But Eddie also wished Chrissy had never met him, maybe then she would have been able to walk the stage herself.

Eddie took off his cap and tucked both photos inside before placing it back on his head. “You and me Henderson,” Eddie whispered to himself before heading towards the school. As Eddie strutted through the front doors of Hawkins High he found himself gathered around with Robin and Nancy. “My sentence is finally up and it only took 1,080 days in this hell hole.” Eddie announced as he wrapped an arm around Nancy and Robin.

Nancy chuckled, “Oh we know Eddie,” They all started walking through the halls to meet the other graduates.

“Yeah, I mean you’ve only told us about 1,080 times” Robin stated with a smile.

Eddie staggered back with his hands on his heart and gasped, “Oh how you wound me!” Robin and Nancy laughed and Steve snuck up behind Eddie.

“Why do you guys always have fun without me?” Steve groaned.

“Because we can’t have any while you’re here,” Robin joked, rolling her eyes. The four of them walked out to the gymnasium. Steve found a seat in the bleachers while the graduates found themselves in the uncomfortable folding chairs arranged in rows before the small stage. Eddie rushed to his seat but Nancy and Robin stood in the aisle. Robin looked into Nancy’s eyes and Nancy grabbed her hand. The two smiled at each other, “Ready to do this?” Robin asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Nancy answered, squeezing Robin’s hand, “I’ll see you in a bit,”

“See you,” Robin gave Nancy’s hand a squeeze of her own before they parted ways and found their separate seats. From their seats they couldn’t help but steal glances at the other.

All the talks for graduation were terribly boring but Robin, Eddie, and Steve listened intently to Nancy’s valedictorian speech. It was beautiful as was everything Nancy does, Robin couldn’t help but stare. Her girlfriend was always the brightest star in the galaxy and she deserved recognition for it. Finally, it was time for diplomas to be handed out. Eddie waited more patiently than he ever had in his life, basking in every moment before it was time.

He strutted up to the stage and snatched his diploma from Principal Higgins. Eddie locked eyes with him and flipped the bird before resuming his strut off stage. The principal stood in shock with his hand still outstretched, waiting for a handshake he would never receive.

The rest of the graduation went on normally and it came time to toss their caps. The grads all went outside, Robin, Nancy, Steve, and Eddie all stood together. Robin and Nancy joined hands and tossed their caps, under the cover of all the green caps they shared a quick kiss before disguising their affection in a hug.

Eddie didn’t toss his cap with the rest, no, he just stared at the cap in his hands for a while. Steve stood next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Ed, I think it’s time,” he cooed.

“I know,” Eddie smiled. He looked up towards the sky and tossed the cap, mumbling to himself, “It’s our year, ‘86 baby.” Eddie turned to Steve and gave him a hug. “They grow up so fast,” Eddie started to tear up, “I miss ‘em already”

“Me too Eddie, me too.” Steve said.

Robin and Nancy joined Eddie and Steve, Nancy asked “Ready to go see Mrs. Henderson?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied.

The four of them made their way to the Henderson house. They were greeted by Mrs. Henderson. “Hi Mrs. Henderson, it’s great to see you.” Nancy offered with a smile.

“Oh please, call me Claudia. Come on in, Mike and Will are already inside.” Claudia said. She looked as if she had been crying earlier that day, but now she looked like that just about every day she visited his grave.

“That’s great. I don’t know if they told you but Lucas isn’t coming,” Nancy stated, “He won’t leave Max’s side, we’ve had to take turns bringing him meals.”

“I understand, he has a connection with that girl. Young love sure is beautiful.” Claudia mused, “Well, I’ve got plenty of food so maybe the boys can bring some over to him after, they’ve probably finished setting the table by now.” Dinner wasn’t terribly awkward, it was filled with sorrow but laughter too. They reminisced about the time they had spent with Dustin, his snarky remarks, and brilliant ideas. They talked about Dustin like he was in the other room, just out of reach. Once they finished eating, Nancy sent Mike and Will with some leftovers to bring for Lucas and El, both refusing to leave Max alone for a second.

The four graduates stayed behind to help clean up. Steve was standing with Claudia, “I’m sorry. Mrs. Henderson, I’m so sorry. I-” Steve started to cry, “I was supposed to protect him, and I didn’t. He’s gone because of me, if I’d been a little more careful. If I had kept him a little closer he’d be eating dinner with us tonight.”

Claudia wrapped Steve in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her own face, doing her best to comfort him. “It wasn’t your fault, no one could’ve predicted the earthquake. There wasn’t anything anyone could have done.” But Steve knew that an earthquake wasn’t what had killed Dustin. He had. When he left Dustin he signed his death certificate. He wondered if she would hate him if she knew the truth, that he had killed her son. Eddie, Robin, and Nancy came back into the room, Claudia and Steve pulled away from each other. “I understand that you are all planning to visit Dusty. His room is still untouched so you can take a look around for anything you might want to bring with you.” Claudia said.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Henderson,” Robin said.

“I’m going to take a quick peak, you guys can head out to the car, I’ll meet you there.” Eddie smiled before walking to Mrs. Henderson, “Thank you for everything.” Eddie walked off to Dustin’s room. As he crossed the threshold he realized that was the second time he had ever been in Dustin’s room. Suzie-poo still had his thinking cap, so Eddie grabbed his Camp Know Where cap and his walkie before meeting everyone else in the car.

When they arrived at the cemetery they all had items to bring him. One by one they all placed the things they had brought on his grave. Robin put down his walkie-talkie and her scoops ahoy hat, Steve left behind his Camp Know Where hat and a small can of Farrah Fawcet spray. Nancy placed down a laminated paper snowflake and a picture of her and Dustin dancing at the Snow Ball. “Don’t worry Dustin, you’re still my favorite, and the best Snow Ball dance partner I’ve ever had.” Nancy whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek. Robin walked up behind Nancy and put an arm around her, she curled into Robin’s arms and they started to walk back to the car.

Steve stood by Eddie’s side as he sat down in front of the grave. Eddie placed a folded up Hellfire club shirt and a small case on the grave. Inside the case was the d20 Erica used to deal the final blow to Vecna, and Eddie’s own pick necklace. He placed a hand on Dustin’s name and stated, “Hey Henderson. I brought you some things, you should have a reminder that you were always fucking metal. I miss you man.” Eddie took a shuddering breath. His fingers traced the cool stone indents of the letters and numbers Dustin’s life had been reduced to. Eddie never forgot the feeling of fighting beside him. Back to back, feeling on top of the world, winning, and then suddenly everything went wrong. Dustin was lying there on the ground, bleeding out and more and more bats swooped down. There was too many, so Eddie did the only thing he could. He ran. He had tried to drag Dustin with him but wasn’t strong enough to still be fast. The most he could manage was luring them away from his body. It wasn’t enough though, when they went back to find him, there was nothing left but flesh and bone.

“There was no shame in running, I shouldn’t have let you convince me to stay. I should’ve hauled ass and got you through that gate, I could’ve held down the fort on my own. It should’ve been me.” Eddie’s whispers got louder as he started to sob, “It should never have been you, I’m sorry Dustin. I should’ve taken better care of my flock.”

Steve dropped down to the ground next to Eddie and just held him. “It’s not your fault Eddie, To paraphrase the words of a wise man, don’t bullshit me.” The two sat there for a long time, letting their eyes run dry. Neither said anything or moved, until Eddie turned to Steve and planted a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you Steve Harrington, thank you for sticking by my side.” Eddie whispered into Steve’s infamous hair.

“I love you too Eddie Munson.” Steve replied.

“I can hear the little man saying ew right now,” Eddie laughed, the two got up and held hands, staring at each other.

“We should get going, Nance and Robin are probably waiting for us.” Steve said, he and Eddie walked down the hill to the car, hand in hand.

Thanks for reading! :)

Hi mutuals, I’m dragging you here because I’m evil >:)

@morbid-longing-picturesque @eatmyshortspurr @ur-favorite-almighty-entity

Thanks mutuals for proof reading and giving me good title ideas :)

#steddie #ronance #main character is dead #hurt/comfort #not a fix it #sweet moments #some heartache #what if #dustin henderson #died

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sonxofxgondor · 5 days

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@ofthevanyar asked: ❛ why did you leave without saying goodbye? ❛

Emotionally Charged Sentence Starters.

Satchel packed with herbal medicines and small savories, the journey for the Fellowship was set to commence. Come the rise of an afternoon sun, all members would be on their way to face the truest of evils, defeat what had been undefeated before. Frodo to bear the burden; Boromir sworn an oath of loyalty and protection. Forever and together were they bound, the Nine, as they were christened. From the lips of elders, the kindest of people that Boromir had come to know. Lord Elrond and his kin - one to be considered more than the rest in the eyes and heart of the Steward-Prince. Never the intention, but most certainly the outcome, Boromir had found himself smitten. Infatuated with every aspect of her person; golden hair, eyes so gorgeous, a smile that could warm the coldest of winter snows. Intelligent just as she was courteous, Amarie did not make him feel weak for the faults he possessed. Stubborn, proud, arrogant, a lover of the battlefield rather than history books. A champion of the physical arts and the craft of boyish play, Amarie held no judgement.

She cared for Boromir. Beyond the titles he carried, beyond the status that was born of himself. She was a gentle friend, a compassionate companion over the course of his stay. Only rarely did he venture far from her side. Always desperate to learn more from her, hear her tales and stories, cheeks colored pink and grin so wide. Boromir had captured the attention of those besides of whom his father wished; whispers in the shadows, followed as he and Amarie explored the gardens, the waterfall and the rocky mountainside. But never did he mind nor find himself distracted. For gray eyes always remained on Amarie - watched her as she went and came, practically shaped themselves to hearts. Sun and moon each taken their stand in the skies, the days spent together were bliss. Happiness not felt before, a bitter end that Boromir knew was sure to come. A final chapter that he did not wish to be so.

He did not want to say goodbye. Such words too painful, so he did not say them at all. Remained silent in his displeasure, hid himself in his room until the moment of leaving dawned. Occupied his attentions by the act of preparing for the trip - ignored all calls, all inquiries into his progress, the gentle tap upon his door and the thereafter fall of bare feet. Soft voice powerful enough as to capture his attention, from satchel bag did he look away, his bed covered with various items and remedies.

Standing still then over top the blanket spread, Boromir looked away, ashamed and embarrassed. Kicked at the dust balls on the floor, watched as they tumbled away from the toe of his boot. He had not left yet, but as Amarie had asked, he was about to. About to; Boromir's heart breaking within his chest.

"Nothing I could say would be a good enough answer, Amarie. None of my words would be able to heal the hurt I have caused you, nor save me from the guilt of my actions. I... I have chosen to act as a child rather than a man. I have been a fool in my frustration concerning the journey I am about to partake."

Boromir sighed, the sound more akin to a cry, chipped at its edges. "Oh, Amarie, can you ever forgive me? Truly, I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never wish to hurt you. It's just that... saying goodbye to you would ruin me. Before I arrived in Rivendell, I assumed that my task would be an easy one. I would go along with the journey of the Ring, no matter where it would have taken me. I would do as was asked of me and complete my quest. Only, I did not think that I would find true happiness here. I did not think that leaving would be so difficult. Amarie... it is folly."

"I cannot find it in my heart to say goodbye to you, because I don't wish to say goodbye at all. You may think me an idiot, but what I tell you now is true. Amarie, beautiful Amarie... I have fallen in love with you. You have possessed all of my thoughts, my days and my nights. You have overtaken all my desires. You have stolen my heart - left me hoping that you would tend to it and keep it forever. Our kind could not be more different, your Elf to my Man, but it does not matter, not to me. You have bewitched me. I adore you. I live for you - I would die for you all the same. I love you. I love you, and I hate to leave you, but I know I must. But it hurts so to do it."

A lonely tear fallen from eye downward to cheek, Boromir glanced to the mess upon his bed, attempted composure, for he would lose it all should he have looked to Amarie. "I would understand if you wish to see no more of me. Besides my cowardice, I have ladened you with so much. I only want to thank you for having come to see me at all now. It... you have meant the world to me, Amarie."

#ofthevanyar #Timeline \\ The Fellowship of the Ring #(( Angst called and I answered the phone <3

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ducknotinarow · 5 months

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@aflockoffeathers said: Steve Nina - [🥂] our muses toast each other on new year's eve

| SEND AN EMOJI FOR A STARTER ! ↳ winter season & holiday based

When Tony Stark ran a party you could expect what they walked into, A list guest list. The food of course couldn't be anything just comparable to food one could toss into the microwave. Nope had to be crafted by some chef. Though Nina always loved hazing Tony over the simple fact that his so called high end chef had nothing on a good can of cold Rivoli by a one Chef Boyardee. Did she really think that way? No of course not. Nina look forward to these things for the food alone after all. What could she say deep down in her she was a foodie. She couldn't cook for shit but she sure could apricate good food. And no her sisters attempts at food did not count they were creations there were crimes against food. If they were ever going to lock Brooklyn up for a real crime it should be for that. And when he thoughts were on that Nina knew she'd been sitting outside for too long.

Having snuck away from the crowd downstairs, she had snagged one of the sliver trays of appetizers for her self, some Lobster puff pastry thing it was good. Along with a drink. Like any of the wait staff was going to stop one of the hero's of the tower. They didn't seem all that phased more annoyed they had to go back into the kitchen if anything but hey a small price to pay. As Nina made her way to the landing pad and simply looked out at city. Her city.

Born and raised even she had lived pretty much all over the place, gone to so many different city blocks. She was from Queens herself. She knew all the street vendors, she knew the strays, she knew the subway and claimed she can understand the muffled speak from the speakers. Becoming a hero with no secrete identity who walked the streets just made her someone to say hello to on the street. She knew a good few strangers names and faces cause of it. Found her self often online from selfies she joined in on with fans and such. When they talked about it once before when Autumn had to go visit family back in Pittsburgh. Nina said she could never leave New York it was basically her blood. And sitter taking in all the lights from the city she love and knew and would in truth? Do anything to keep just like this. Even if it wasn't always the kindest to her.

Plopping another buttery pastry in to her mouth as she moves to rest her elbows to her knees the reminder of metal pressing into her skin a grim reminder of that last thought when she finds herself in company now. "Thor give you the good stuff pops?" she idly asks when eyeing the cup he was holding. She was gonna have to hit him up next she decided so she could actually feel a buzz for a bit maybe. She hums a bit when he joins her with a question he own. Moving to lean a hand back to rest behind herself so she could lean back. Eyes never leaving the sight of the city. She knew the streets were crowded by now. The many parties going around. The bar crawls likely happening as they speak. The pack streets. And of course who could forget. Time square the biggest event for the night everyone's TV was tuned into it the performances that were held during it. Excitement over how the glasses for the next year would be designed, how the ball would be designed. Sure there was the one in California too but come on? Everyone counted the New York ball drop as the true count down to the new year time zones be damned.

"Ya know I've never seen the ball drop in person." Was how Nina finally answered that question. "Can' really go as a kid" Especially the times she was more concerned about finding a place to sleep from the times she got 'locked out' for being late at some homes. Then life got far too busy once she got to train as a junior Avenger. Might come out she was sad about it but there wasn't really trace of disappointment there. "Think I will next year." So was that why Nina was out here? Because she was thinking about that? Nah not really it just was a sudden thought that appeared to her that she had to just voice it seemed. "Think you should come, Brook, Astrid everyone should really mostly us though>" She continued her rambling almost as if she was avoiding the first question asked as she looked down to her stole tray of food. Offering one to her Dad with a shrug of her shoulders. "nah just thinking was all."

Oh that all? When a huge party was going on and she normally be mingling about. She knows how that comes off and she knows her Dad is bound to worry if something is wrong which just makes her smile to herself. Tossing her head back to look at him. "Ya know I always wanted to be Capitan America?" it was obvious of course, how could it not be that she was a fan. From the memorabilia, her collection of Capitan America things, art work, pins, figures hell she had some vintage stuff that even Agent Coulson would be jealous over. Her weapons were clearly taking inspiration from his own image, her costume even with it being more red over blue. But Nina acted as if it were some big secrets none the less. Like she rather die then let it be known how much she looked up to her Dad. So she dose note the expression he wear when she finally voices it. Funny enough it reminds her of the first time she ever called him Dad. Before she shoves her elbow into his ribs.

"s'ture" she states as she smiles fondly "I wanted to be jus' like you for so long. When I was a powerless kid unable to do a thing 'bout where I was." how she related to the story of this framed hero. "Thinkin' I could I dunno do good despite what others saw in me. Jus' like he did. Like you do." She lets her feet kick and swing over the edge of the platform because she had no fear of falling from there. "Though sometimes I tried to much to be you then be 'ike ya." She expresses her arm forever being that reminder. How she felt she always came short to that goal how it fueled her anger and made her reckless with herself. She was fine competently fine giving herself up for that. Because who would care if she was gone. Some no body kid with a record by the time she was twelve.

"But I ain't Steve Rogers." This wasn't something sad still nothing negative in her tone as she spoke up. "But Steve Roger is still a big part of who I am becomin' ya know?" She offers the thought was still shaping her head so it was hard to fully shape herself let alone elaborate on. For now. New Years Eve was a day of many things but mostly reflecting back on the year sometimes prior and thinking of what the new one will bring. And that was why Nina was out her. "I love New York always have, always will. I may leave for world savin' missions. But I mostly work here." Which was true she did a lot of solo heroing in the city that wasn't S.H.E.I.L.D. missions. "Took a lot from me but it's givin' me a lot too. 'Ike Autumn course" The one she loved most finally finding something she felt was missing. "Brooks too" The sister she never knew she had lost. "You. The Dad who stepped up." The one thought she voiced. "I know i'm gettin' older and I'm sort mellowin' out from when ya first met me." Nina offers, she knows she never made it easy on poor Steve. But he was always there no matter what.

"So ya know thanks for lettin' me shadow ya for so long, letting me test my own wings out I guess." Nina starts to express "Ya know, bit ago before I walked into the tower tonight. A reporter asked me was my aim to be the next Capitan America?" It was a fair question Steve may be the man out of time but didn't mean time wouldn't one day catch up to him either. So course the thought would be his 'side kicks' take the mantel. "And it's funny cause sometime ago I think I would have said yes or something and proudly be Captian America even. But ya know? I don' want 'hat. We already have Captian America well always have Steve Rogers as that. I feel to honor all of that instead though? Is to show everyone how Captian America helped me become the Stargent instead ya know?" Nina offers "least 'hats how I been thinkin' it. I wanna show the legacy of Captian America not take it over." Nina explains wondering if that makes any sense.

"Because I wouldn't be sitting here now with out ya Dad. In more ways then litteraly mind you. So I wanna show the world what Nina Rogers has to offer. Cause Steve Rogers always showed the little guy can fight too. I was just an abbondoned kid failed by the foster care system who might have ended up for the worse. But instead I got a chance to show my background don' hold me down from wantin" to help 'his city be better. An' I can' do 'hat as Captian America. As You. I can only do thar as me." She smiles feeling more sure if herself then she ever really had. "And ya know wouldn' come to that with you. So ya know." She pauses and waits to see if he dose "aw come on ya know I suck at the mushy stuff. You know what I mean though so thank you."

#muse| nina rogers #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ Let me make you proud show you the best in me -afockoffeathers]#winter season & hoilday meme #meme reply #ic reoly #stay queued

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missmisery444 · 1 year

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part i: yesterday

i remember crying inside of my mothers red hatchback when i was six. i was in the passenger seat, holding a balled up, now tattered and wet piece of tissue paper i had picked up from inside the dusty cup holder. the windows were down, the ac was on and the wind was hitting my face ever so slightly that it made my hair stick to my skin which was red and wet and salty with tears. the blaring October wind and the resulting engine noise from the bold 'eighty' on the speedometer were the only sounds i could hear, other than my own sobs and heartbeats and missed breaths. i'd just had the worst day of my life (the first of many to come. i'll always remember this like yesterday because the reason i had cried was the very reason i still cry today). my mother looked at me with an alien expression on her face because i was her good, pleasant, well-mannered child who never questioned authority and was never ever sad. i had cried once before when i had thrown up all over my shirt on the first day of school (it was my favourite shirt). she told me things she thought i wanted to hear (she is the strongest and weakest, kindest and cruelest woman i have ever known and i'm afraid i'm growing up to be just like her) i refused to tell her why i was crying, continually clutching onto the ball of tissue in my hands and wiping my face into my wet hands (my hands get wet whenever i feel something)

second grade was hard when you didn't have friends (i had tried so hard to be liked because i didn't like myself). i'd had yet another day with all of my feelings disregarded (i would grow up to find out that my feelings will always be disregarded) i couldn't figure out what i had done wrong. i had been perfectly inviting, brought up things other girls in my class always talked about ("i want the barbie dream house SO BAD"), i would do whatever i was asked to do and never questioned them. i don't know what they wanted (six year olds are evil).

but it was kind of complicated. it wasn't that i didn't have friends. i had friends. the kind that would sit with you in the cafeteria. the kinds that would invite you to their birthday party and save you a seat in the auditorium. but i was never the friend they talked about all day. never the friend that was picked first in a group project. never the friend that was invited to all the sleepovers. never that friend they voluntarily called and hung out with.

i grew up feeding on that feeling. i hated feeling unimportant but yet it gave me comfort. i was unfamiliar to the idea of unconditional love and i craved it so much i would drain every drop of blood in my body in exchange for one look of love where i was the first choice; but i ran away every time i was glanced at with even the littlest of feeling.

i am a paradox. i want to be happy but all i do is think of things that make me sad. i have the most vivid dreams and ambitions, but i can't find myself doing anything to achieve them. i don't like myself but i also don't hate myself. i crave attention but i reject it when it comes my way. i am a conflicted contradiction and i wish i was anyone but myself.

part ii: today

i am the most devastated woman in the corner of the classroom. i have friends and they promise they love me but i still find myself asking them if they lie to me because they pity me and the terrible place inside my mind. i suppose i am still the happy child my parents have known. i suppose i cry more often now (it's not like they know that). i suppose i watch that one scene in lady bird and destroy my insides every time ("i wish that you liked me.""of course i love you""but do you like me"). i think i am tired of being the second choice but yet not exhausted so i will bear with this feeling for a little longer. i suppose i laugh more too now; its probably because i've become used to the pain of loneliness now. i feel incomplete without the pain. pain is inherent and it is a part of my body as much are my hands and my head. pain is my friend and it sits by the window sill as it admires my pathetic face every time i wake up and prepare myself to have the same day that i've had for the past four years.

#bad poetry #poetry #mommy issues #i dont know what i'm doing #i have a math paper tomorrow

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nitewrighter · 2 years

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I love the cinderella short so much, I hope one day it will be a finished story but no worries if that doesn't happened. I love reading your writing! 💖

Well now's as good a time as any to continue it, right? We spent a lot of time with Cindy last chapter, but now that we’ve more or less caught up to the ball, we can jump back to Princey boy’s perspective!

So.

Let’s do this.

---

The foot fetish joke.

You guys won't fucking shut up with the goddamn foot fetish joke.

My boy was out here fighting for his life (figuratively speaking) and you guys are all "hoo hoo he had a foot fetish. I'm so creative and no one has ever suggested this before." Fuck off.

Princey boy is staying up late, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling. He looks like absolute shit in the mornings--I mean the five o' clock shadow is kind of hot but his eyes are hella bloodshot and his skin routine has been thrown COMPLETELY off so he looks rough. The man is HAUNTED because he just met someone and he thinks they're amazing and they seem like one of the kindest, funniest, most genuine people he's ever met, and they laugh at his jokes but my guy cannot remember a single damn identifying thing about them and he is so goddamn worried about their wellbeing. They looked so scared before they took off at midnight and he doesn't know where they are! He doesn’t know if they’re okay! He doesn’t know if they're eating! He’s like, pretty sure they’re not eating because they were putting away a frankly concerning amount of spinach puffs! He doesn't know if they even have a bed! He doesn’t remember if they had bruises (he’d remember if they had bruises, right? What the fuck is wrong with his head?!) He's barely eating, himself! He is SUFFERING and you fucking vultures are sitting pretty over here like “lol he wanted an excuse to touch feet.” Again, fuck off! My boy is going through it!

YES, all he had was the shoe, but he didn’t start with the shoe because that’s impractical.

Like any proper investigation, you start by asking the entire castle staff what they saw that night at the ball and ya boi has been THOROUGH. Here is what he has learned:

“Yeah I mean I definitely saw shit that night--I mean officially, I’m a footman but for bashes like this? My job ends up being mostly making sure drunker guests quietly get back to their carriages. Oh--a girl? Showed up late to the party? Yeah I remember there was someone I had to give directions to... she looked great. Uh... no, I don’t remember her hair color... or eye color... or her dress... Oh! But she fixed this button on my coat that one guest nearly yanked off! Even sewed a little flower into the holes, isn’t that cute? Who just... carries a sewing kit on them, right? Er--sorry, I know it’s not uniform regulation--Oh it’s okay? Awesome. Wait--you’re taking my coat? But I like this coat--Right. yes. Of course, your highness.”

“A girl wandering the corridors? Um... there was this one incident where one of the lordlings left this massive slosh of wine on the parlor carpet and--look, I’ve only been here a couple months since I got promoted from dishes, and me and three of my girls were trying to scrub it out while all the damn lordlings went on smoking their pipes and chuckling--Oh--not that you’re like that, Your Highness, but anyway I was kind of freaking out because I knew if I called in the head housekeeper it would turn into this whole thing, but then this girl... just kind of... wandered in. I don’t think she really understood the whole concept of ‘Brandy in the parlor is a gentleman’s thing’ but she just leaned over us and went, ‘Oh! Lemon juice!’ And before I could say anything she just hurried out. 5 minutes later she comes back with a lemon and a goblet of water. I ask her where she got the lemon and she said ‘the gardens--is that allowed?’ I didn’t know how to respond to that but get this: The lemon and water worked. But she was gone before I had time to thank her. It’s strange... I don’t remember her features very well... I remember thinking she was very pretty but more so she seemed... kind. A little nervous, but kind.”

“Oh the catering table? Yeah I was there all night--well you know actually I was running back to the kitchens to make sure shit wasn’t on fire, but yeah, I was more or less there all night. A girl? Oh the perky one! I mean, yeah, I’m used to talking about the food, ‘cuz, y’know allergies and whatnot, but she was... really interested in how to make them. She asked how I kept the breadcrumbs crisp on the stuffed mushrooms--no one appreciates my passion for breadcrumb crispness! The key is using three different bread loafs with a distinct variety of freshness and staleness and- What did she look like? Um... tall? I think? Oh but everyone was wearing heels that night, huh... hm...”

“You’re telling me I had 8 of the pageboys running interference on the rest of the guests so you two could sneak off to the gardens and you didn’t kiss her? Bro! What the hell! I mean--um... Sorry. Your highness. What? What did she look like? Dude, are you insane? She looked awesome. You know how her hair was like... um... uh... Wait. What the shit?”

And Guard Captain Brad has now somehow convinced himself that Mystery Girl is a criminal mastermind even though nothing is missing from the Palace.

“It’s obvious. She dosed the entire party with some kind of neural agent. That’s why she was hanging out at the buffet table all night and that’s why no one can remember her.”

“Brad, why would she do that if everyone was already distracted with the literal fucking party. Why would she dose everyone when she was eating literally everything!?”

“I don’t know... but she was eating all that stuff to cover her tracks... hell she may have even built up an immunity to poisons. She’s crafty...”

“Brad.”

And through all of the interviews with the staff, Princey boy is stuck with one painful, painful fact staring him right in the face: HE was the one spending the most time with her! He spent more time with her than anyone! He should know more than anyone! AND HE CAN’T FUCKING REMEMBER HER FACE. My boy is being gaslit by the fae and he doesn’t even know it.

But he’s not stupid. He is staring at this shoe, this shoe that is the hope and bane of his existence, and he says, “You know what? There aren’t a lot of glass shoes out there. And this shoe was definitely custom-made. All I need to do is find the person who made the shoe, ask them who they made the shoe for, and I find mystery girl and I get her out of whatever fucked up situation she’s stuck in, and then *cough* *mumble* maybe we get married or something I don’t know I don’t want to pressure her.” *mumble* *cough* So that’s what he does. He is very practical and reasonable and methodical and haha I’m just kidding he calls in literally every glassblower and crystal craftsman in the realm to look at...the shoe.

Which he has had put on its own cushy little velvet pillow on its own fancy little pedestal in the palace reception hall for this occasion. I dunno, it seemed more professional than just yanking the shoe out and saying, “Did you make this shoe?”

So in come all of the glassblowers and crystal craftsmen from all over the kingdom, and they don’t really know the details, they’re busy guys, they got their own stuff going on, and the Prince gestures at the shoe on the pedestal like, “I must know which of you has crafted this fabulous shoe!”

And like... okay yeah, this is where the foot fetish stuff starts leaking into the story but I swear to god he was mostly doing it as a cover for the whole, “the girl wearing this shoe might be the love of my life but my dad is going to get really fucking weird if something like that gets out so you know what let’s just let everyone assume I’m into... craftsmanship.” And like, the internet is not a thing yet, Quentin Tarantino is not a thing yet, we don’t really have the cultural consciousness to know about Foot Guys™, so it’s generally accepted that, “Okay, this is about craftsmanship. Maybe he wants to commission a glass sculpture or a chandelier or something. Or maybe he wants the windows re-glazed.”

But Glass shoes, as you might imagine, are really not a thing most glass craftsmen would make. I mean, at first there’s a handful of guys who are like “Oh this is about a commission, I’ll just say I made the shoe and then I can land that sweet sweet royal commission.” So they step forward like, “I made the shoe.”

“No, I made the shoe.”

“No, I made the shoe, your highness, don’t let these charlatans fool you.”

And knee-jerk the prince hits all of them with, “Great! Who did you make it for?”

And then there’s this beat of “...oh shit, this isn’t about a commission.” And a significant amount of the glassworkers leave while the dudes who stepped forward are stuck bullshitting like.

“um... a fair maiden?”

“A mysterious fair maiden.”

“Showed up in a an indigo cloak, with only her ruby lips visible beneath the shadow of her hood!”

“...ruby lips doesn’t sound like her...” the prince mumbles.

“Um... blushing lips? And the cloak wasn’t indigo, it was periwinkle.”

“Fucking dumbasses, obviously, she sent her own valet with her measurements.”

The prince just kind of folds his arms like, “You can leave and you won’t get in trouble for claiming to make a shoe you didn’t make.”

And the lying craftsmen are at least smart enough to see their out and they are SHOOP. Outta there. So between them leaving and all the guys who ditched as soon as they realized this wasn’t about a commission, only a handful of glass craftsmen remain.

“...I don’t suppose any of you made the shoe?” the Prince says, and oh boy you can just feel the despair sinking into his whole frame, but the glass craftsmen just... steadily step forward.

“To be honest, your highness,” says one, stepping ahead of the group with a slight bow, “I didn’t make the shoe. But a glass shoe is such an unusual commission that I just want to see how whoever crafted it did so. I’ll admit it’s a selfish reason, but at least looking at it could improve my craft.”

“I might be able to tell you where it comes from!” another pipes up, “I apprenticed abroad in the east!”

“I apprenticed in the north!” another glassworker calls out.

“I didn’t study abroad, but I’ve always been a little bit of a chemist, myself,” says another, “The way that slipper catches the light... I might be able to tell you about its composition.”

And there’s kind of a murmuring agreement from the glassworkers behind this guy and the Prince is like, “Oh, these guys are the hardcore artisans. It’s not about them, it’s not about me, it’s about the art.” So he kind of scoots to the side and is like, “Well if there’s anything you can tell me about this shoe, anything at all, I would deeply appreciate it.”

And all the glassworkers just briskly step forward and are staring at this shoe. Gesturing at it like, “May I?” and the prince is like, “By all means” and they’re picking up the shoe and poring over it.

And then they’re talking,

And then they’re talking a little more intensely about lead levels, and chemical compounds for this level of opalescence, and then they’re holding the shoe up in sunlight trying to identify what went into it to make the light shine through it so... prismatically. And then they’re debating about blowing vs. molds vs. carving.

And then they’re arguing.

And then they’re REALLY arguing and the prince is cutting in like, “Okay you guys are all getting really heated so I’m just gonna put this shoe back on its little pillow--” and all the glassworkers are so caught up in their argument that they barely notice but then ONE glassworker just breaks off from the group, pointing a shaking finger at the shoe that the prince is carefully placing on the pillow and there is fucking fear in his eyes.

“No man made that shoe. No human made that shoe. No creature of god made that shoe,” he has a thick accent and his voice is shaking as much as his hand.

“Come on, man,” says another glassworker, “Surely you don’t really think--”

But the thick-accented glassworker is furiously crossing himself and doing the gesture of the horns at the shoe while anxiously backing out of the room.

“I will have no dealings with that shoe. I am honored by your invitation, your Highness, but I must leave,” and he does.

So everyone in the reception hall is kind of standing around awkwardly.

“The shoe isn’t... that weird, is it?” the Prince says to the other glassworkers, and they kind of mutter amongst themselves for 90 seconds before quietly looking back at him.

They don’t have an answer.

So all princey boy has to find mystery girl is a shoe.

And the shoe is fucking weird.

#cinderella #cindy spent half the ball doing all of the ball-specific sidequests so she is already a girl after the queen's own heart

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