#lit all his outfits look so naturally elegant and fitting to him! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

escapewithbts · 4 years ago

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Wedding Date - Seokjin

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"I still can't believe I agreed to do this," your best friend Kim Seokjin said from the bedroom next to you.

You chuckled as you carefully applied your second layer of mascara in the bathroom mirror.

"Mmmm have I told you how much I loooove you, Seokjinnie?" you cooed, popping your head out from the doorway to flash him a big smile.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes but smiled.

"I'm going to need to hear it way more, you know! You owe me big time!"

He turned his body toward you as he pulled his navy blue suit jacket on over top his crisp white button down shirt.

"So how do I look?" he asked, putting his long fingers out in a heart shape accompanied by a sexy stare.

"Classic Worldwide Handsome," you replied.

He gave you a wink.

"Yah! That is what they call me!"

You laughed and looked back in the mirror.

"Seriously though, Jin, you look really, really good."

You were glad you had turned back to the mirror so he couldn't see your cheeks turn red. The sight of him in a perfectly fitting suit with his dark hair pushed back from his eyes and forehead which showed his beautifully structured face made your heart flutter.

"Thanks, y/n. I've gotta look good if I'm going to be your pretend boyfriend, you know?"

You shuffled nervously, wondering if this was a good idea after all.

He poked his head around the doorway to look at you.

"How much longer until you're ready?"

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Umm probably about 10 more minutes. Just have to finish my make up and put my dress on."

Jin nodded.

"Okay. I'll be in the living room when you're ready."

You sighed and made your way to your closet after you were finished with your make up. You stared at the dresses before you and wondered if it was too late to back out.

One of your friends from high school was getting married, and after hearing that almost all your other friends from back then were bringing plus ones, the stress of not having one got to you. So you reluctantly asked your best friend Jin, figuring he would say no, or that he had a full schedule that day. He was in one of the world's most popular boy bands after all. But, to your surprise, he was free this day and he said yes with almost no hesitation. It made you smile, how kind he was. He was a great friend.

In fact, it was small gestures like this that made you finally realize your true feelings for him. He was a wonderful person, and the two of you always had a great time laughing with each other. You would never tell him how you truly felt about him though, as you were afraid it would ruin your friendship. Plus, you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way considering how many girls he has to choose from. Why would he choose you? It hurt your heart, but it was worth it to keep him in your life.

Eventually you chose a long, pink and floral dress made of chiffon, with fluttering short sleeves. Perfect for the Spring time. It had bits of blue in it, too, so it matched Jin's outfit well. You slipped on some nude sandals with heels and grabbed a clutch purse from the top shelf.

You took one last look at yourself in the full length mirror and actually smiled. Your hair fell nicely around your shoulders and your make up was done but still showed your natural face nicely. You felt confident and ready.

"Ok, sorry, I'm ready," you said, walking into the living room to find Jin sitting on the couch looking at his phone.

He stood up and put his phone in the pocket of his pants. When he finally looked at you his jaw dropped.

"Whoa..." he mumbled.

It made you intensely blush and your heart speed up.

He shook himself out of his trance and got a big grin on his face. Suddenly he started humming the chorus to his band BTS' song "Like" and snapping his fingers while stepping towards you.

"Ohhhh pretty woman... don't wanna be fool, wanna be cool, wanna be loved, 너와의, same looove... Baby I want it"

You pushed him away by his chest, trying to play off how embarrassed and flustered you were. He laughed at himself while you rolled your eyes.

"Oh my god, let's just go, Jinnie."

You arrived at the venue just as the ceremony was starting, so you didn't have time to greet anyone. It was outside in a park next to the Han River. It was a beautiful late afternoon in mid-Spring, the sun was shining, flowers had finally made their appearance after the long winter, and the trees were covered in lush green leaves again.

The ceremony was simple, sweet and short. Once it was over everyone headed to the patio overlooking the river where the reception was going to take place. A large tent was set up for some shade, tables and chairs, a buffet line and a dance floor. Everything was covered in white flowers and elegant decorations.

"I guess we should find out where we're sitting," you said to Jin, and he nodded in response.

He took your hand in his, which completely caught you off guard. You looked down at your interlaced fingers in shock.

"We have to at least hold hands, (y/n), if we're meant to be convincing," Jin stated matter-of-factly.

You gulped and nodded in agreement, getting flustered from the feeling of his strong hand holding yours tightly.

The two of you walked to the table under the tent where the place card settings were, informing the guests of which table they were assigned to. While searching for your name, you heard a shriek behind you.

"(y/n)!? Oh my god, is that you??"

You turned around to see one of your old friends, (y/f/n), coming towards you with outstretched arms.

You smiled politely and returned the hug.

"Hi, (y/f/n), it's good to see you."

She smiled and turned towards Jin.

"And who is this handsome man standing next to you?"

Jin stuck his hand out to shake hers.

"I'm Kim Seokjin, (y/n)'s boyfriend." He wrapped his long arm around the back of your waist as he said that, pulling you closer to him.

"Boyfriend? Wow, (y/n), you certainly reached out of your league, huh?" She laughed to herself.

You winced at the comment but brushed it off. Jin, however, couldn't let it go so easily.

"She reached out of her league? No, no, I think it's quite the opposite. Look at her! She's gorgeous! And kind, and smart and funny. You're definitely wrong there."

Anyone who didn't know Jin would think the tone in his response was light-hearted, but being his best friend you could sense the annoyance and anger that was really there.

"Did you come with anyone?" You asked, changing the subject quickly.

Her face lit up.

"Yes! I got married last year. My husband, Park Ji-ho, is over there," she pointed to a man standing at the edge of the tent, "He's wonderful, let me get him."

She called his name and waved him over to introduce him to you.

"Ji-ho, this is (y/n) and Seokjin. I knew her in high school."

He bowed at the two of you and shook you hands. When he looked at Jin he paused.

"You look... familiar," he said quizzically.

You and Jin exchanged looks. You shuffled nervously.

Ji-ho's face lit up.

"Wait, I've seen you on the walls in my little sister's room! And on the tv! Aren't you an idol? You're in a group, right?" he suddenly recalled.

Jin gave him a small smile and nodded his head.

"Yes, 방탄소년단, or BTS."

(y/f/n) gasped.

"That's right! I knew I recognized you, too! You're a member of BTS!" she exclaimed with wide eyes, "Wow, (y/n) really did reach out of her league."

She turned to her husband and chuckled.

Jin's grip on your hand got tighter in anger, turning his knuckles white.

"Well, it was nice to meet you both. We're going to our table now." He said shortly, urgently pulling you away with him.

Once you were out of hearing distance from the couple Jin asked you,

"(y/n) you were actually friends with that girl? She's awful. Who says things like that?"

You shrugged and sighed.

"We weren't that good of friends, just in the same group. She always has had that... interesting sense of humor."

He scoffed.

"Interesting? I'd say it's more mean than anything."

You gave him an I-told-you-so look.

"You see now why I so desperately wanted you to come with me, Jinnie-ah? Imagine the things she would have said if I had shown up alone."

He rolled his eyes.

Just then his phone let out a loud vibration from his pocket. He glanced down at it and rejected the call.

"So you wanna get some food? I'm starving," he asked, shoving it back in his pocket.

You chuckled.

"Of course you are. Let's go."

The two of you ate from the buffet, chatted with the bride and groom at your table for a little bit and listened to the live band perform songs. By then the sun had set and the whole venue was lit by the soft yellow glow of string lights stretching across the tent ceiling and out to the patio.

"So when are we going to dance, (y/n)?" Jin asked after a while with a huge grin on his face. He took the last sip of his beer.

You raised you eyebrows and shook your head.

"Oh no no no, I am not getting on that dance floor with you Kim Seokjin."

Jin stood up and started walking backwards towards the floor.

"Come oonnnnn (y/n)-ah," he pleaded in his endearing whiny voice, "If you don't come with me, I'll go alone and dance like this."

He started flailing his long arms up in the air and shaking his whole body back and forth.

"Wooooo! Weeee! Woooooooo!" he exclaimed with his motions, causing some people from a nearby table to stare and giggle.

"Ok, ok, I'm coming, I'm coming," you laughed and rolled your eyes, "Just please don't do that."

He smiled widely at you and took you by the hand out to the dance floor.

It was an upbeat song, and the two of you swayed back and forth in front of each other to the beat. Jin also added in some classic moves, like the sprinkler and the robot. He looked ridiculous and it made you laugh. He seemed so confident and happy, which made you forget to feel embarrassed.

"Isn't dancing part of your job description??" you yelled to him jokingly over the music.

He continued to wave his arms in the air.

"Doesn't mean I do it well!" he responded, grabbing your hand and twirling you under it.

You threw your head back and laughed. You were finding yourself having a surprisingly good time, despite originally being nervous to come.

The song ended and then a slow one began to play.

"Grab onto the person who makes your heart flutter, this one is for the two of you," the lead singer of the band announced.

You and Jin looked at each other shyly. He hesitated, but gave you an adorable small smile. You felt butterflies in your stomach and you looked at the ground awkwardly. Jin didn't notice, he just stepped toward you and put one hand on your waist and the other in yours.

You moved back and forth together, staring into his dark brown eyes and handsome face. It made you sad almost, how strong your feelings truly were and the fact that you knew he would never be yours. But you quickly pushed those thoughts out of your mind and told yourself to focus on the present.

"I really do appreciate you coming with me today, Jinnie." you said softly, "You're a really great friend."

He blinked slowly at you in adoration.

"Of course, you know I'd do anything for you, (y/n)-ah."

Suddenly his phone started vibrating again. He let go of your hand to remove it from his pocket and again hit the reject button. Then he scrolled through a few things.

"Is everything okay?" you asked curiously.

Jin looked up from the phone at you.

"Yes, I'm sorry, I'm going to turn it off."

You shook your head in protest.

"No, don't do that. What if the members need you?" you paused, "Wait, is that who's calling you?"

Jin looked down and scratched the back of his head.

"Jin, you can answer the phone it if it's important, it's okay." you reassured him.

He shook his head.

"It's not... really that important, it's fine."

He doesn't look at you, which means you can tell he's lying.

You grabbed his arm gently.

"Jin..."

He finally looks at you and squeezes his eyes shut in shame.

"Aiishhh, we were supposed to go over some choreography changes and they want to Facetime me so I can see."

"Seokjin!" You exclaimed.

Couples around you glared at your sudden loudness.

You dragged Jin off the dance floor and sat him back at the table.

"You told me you didn't have any work to do today!"

He buried his face in his hands.

"I know, I know, but skipping one practice will be okay... I think."

You shook your head in disbelief.

"Oh my gosh, I wouldn't have asked you or let you come if I had known! Why Jin-ah, why did you come with me when you had work?"

You studied his embarrassed red face. He looked nervous.

"I-I don't know... I guess I just wanted to be there for you."

Your stomach twisted at those words, but you ignored it.

Instead you sighed and looked down at your hands.

"Well they clearly need you there. So let's get you to them."

You stood up. Jin did too but he grabbed your wrist.

"We don't have to go, I'm having fun. Let me just call them back really quick. It will be fast, I promise."

"You sure? I don't want you getting in trouble or the other members getting upset with you..." you worried.

Jin smiled reassuringly.

"I'm sure. I'll be right back."

And with that he pulled out his phone and walked out of the tent towards the illuminated patio.

You sighed again and slumped back in your chair, twirling the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. You couldn't believe Jin would skip a dance practice to be your date to a stupid wedding. You felt horrible for asking. Why would he do that anyway? The other 6 members were his everything. His job was his everything. His love for entertaining was his everything. As far as you knew, all these things meant so much more to him than being your date to a wedding you didn't even really want to come to.

"Excuse me, young lady," an old woman with glasses and white hair had come up to your table, interrupting your thoughts, "I just wanted to say what a beautiful couple the two of you make."

She gestured towards where Jin had retreated to make his call.

You felt your face get hot and you chuckled lightly.

"Oh... well thank you."

She continued,

"You can tell how in love with you he is just by the way he looks at you."

Your heart thumped in your chest and you put your hands up in protest.

"Oh, no, no, I don't quite think he feels-"

She interrupted you.

"Honey, I've been married 54 years... I know a thing or two about being in love. You looked very happy out there, and so did he, especially when he made you laugh. Keep him close, dear, he's a special one. And he obviously adores you."

Before you could protest again, she smiled and gave you a wink before walking away.

She could tell by the way he looked at you? You chuckled to yourself. Clearly she needed a new glasses prescription. You shook her comments off and exited the tent to find Jin before she could come back and fill your head with more wishful thoughts.

You found him alone leaning over the railing, looking out across the river, the city lights of Seoul visible in the distance. You walked up to him and crossed your arms on the railing next to him.

"Hey." you said, noticing he was no longer on the phone.

He turned from the river view and looked at you. The string lights gave his pale face a warm tanned glow. He looked almost angelic.

"Hey."

You stared back at the river and fiddled with your hands.

"How were the members?"

He shrugged.

"They're good. They just wanted to make sure I was okay with the changes. I told them I am and promised I'd be there with them tomorrow."

"And they weren't upset with your absence?" you questioned.

He shook his head.

"Not at all, they understand."

You smiled.

"Well that's good. They're really great people. You're lucky."

Jin hummed in agreement.

There was a pause when you suddenly realized how chilly it had gotten. Outside the tent and adjacent to the river felt a good 10 degrees colder. You shivered and rubbed your arms.

�� "You're cold? Here."

Jin removed his suit jacket and placed it gently around your shoulders. It was warm and smelled like him; an instant comfort.

"Wow, classic move giving me your jacket," you teased, nudging your shoulder against his, "you're such a gentleman."

He shrugged and chuckled, showing his perfect teeth and adorable eye wrinkles.

"I try my best."

You looped your arm in his tightly and rested your head on his upper arm.

"Mmm you're a great pretend boyfriend, Jinnie."

You sighed in content and looked out over the water again, the moon reflecting on it's surface, a cool spring breeze blowing across your face.

"What if... we didn't pretend?" he suddenly whispered softly.

You felt your heart stop. Had you misheard him?

You took your arm out from his and turned to face him. He was studying your face intensely. His was serious, a rare sight.

"What?" you managed to squeak out.

He shifted his body so it faced yours. There was hope and determination in his eyes. But also fear. You could feel your heart beat in your ears.

"I-I," he shut his eyes in hesitation, "I have feelings for you, (y/n). I have for a long time now. I didn't know how to tell you, or if you even felt the same way. You're always referring to me as your friend so I was afraid to tell you... and I didn't, I don't want to ruin our friendship. You are so important to me and I guess somehow I was hoping coming with you here tonight would make you see that, and give me an opportunity to tell you. So... here I am. That's part of the reason the members were so understanding... they knew I was finally going to tell you today," he chuckled sheepishly and looked at the ground, "I understand if you don't feel the same way, really, I don't want to lose you as a friend, but.... I thought you should know."

You felt like you were dreaming. Your eyes teared up at his words and you were thankful he couldn't see you in the soft light. Your heart felt like it was going to burst.

His face looked at yours in concern.

"Jinnie..." You could barely speak.

So instead you stood on your tip-toes and gently pressed your lips on top of his large, pillow-y ones. He kissed you back passionately, wrapping his long arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. He was so warm, and smelled so comforting and familiar. You felt like you were in heaven.

When you broke away you both had the biggest grins on your face. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, humming in content.

"Seokjin-ah," you whispered, burying your face in his chest, "I'm so glad you told me."

He kissed the top of your head and rested his chin on top, holding you against him tightly.

"And I am so glad I skipped work today."

You both chuckled and kissed once more.

Masterlist

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light679 · 4 years ago

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‘Til dusk, we ride

An ask for @nova-magitek-dragon for his OC Nova on a wholesome date with Bea!

Nova was riding Zacian through Stow-on-Side when he finally spotted her in front of the Pokemon Gym on her Mudsdale. As always, Bea looked really pretty today; her hair was smoothed into her usual short, slick bob, shining brilliantly in the sun. Even far away, Nova could see the way her large, gray eyes sparkled with her excitement of getting fresh air with her Pokemon. She never battled with her Mudsdale, usually her fighting types were what she brought to any Pokemon battle, but outside of battling and directly training, it was clear the fighting-type Gym Leader loved the horse Pokemon.

Tight sight of her made Nova fidget with the bag he'd been carrying with him on his ride to the laid-back town. He rolled the string-like handles of the bag from the designer store he'd purchased it from between his thumb and pointer finger, letting the friction of the two flimsy handles being rolled into each other calm his nerves. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd bought it, the riding outfit he'd purchased for her had simply looked so elegant and regal in the store, something that matched his own somewhat. When they'd talked before, Bea had admitted she'd never had a formal riding uniform and that she'd usually just worn her gym outfit when she did go riding. Of course, being someone who'd ridden around on many Mudsdales and Rapidashes before befriending Zacian, Nova knew how rough the fur could be on bare thighs without proper riding pants, wearing shorts no less. And if you had the proper pants, it only made sense to have a full uniform. So, naturally, he'd picked it up for her.

A smile spread across Bea's face when she saw him. "Hey Nova!" She greeted him with a smile, prompting her Mudsdale to strut towards him. "What brings you to Stow on Side today?" She stopped her Pokemon just close enough for her to reach out and pat Zacian's snout, who huffed happily at her.

"Well," Nova said nervously, handing the bag out towards her. "I was hoping you'd like to go for a ride with me today. I- uh, I got you this riding outfit. Since you said you didn't have one, I thought you might like to have one."

Her eyes widened as she looked between the uniform in the bag and him. "Thank you," she said hesitantly as she poked at the fabric of the uniform. It really was beautiful. "Wait right here, I'll try it on for our ride today! Oh! Er- I guess I forgot to say, but I'd love to go for a ride with you! Don't move!"

When she returns, Nova is astonished by how amazingly the riding outfit fits her. The particular shade of black matched well with her tanned skin tone and brought out the brilliance of her gray eyes. “Well, how does it look?” she asked nervously.

“It looks great!” Nova encouraged, which earned a smile from her.

“Thank you, really,” she said shyly as she mounted her Mudsdale. “This was really sweet of you to do for me.”

“Of course,” Nova said. “Come on, let’s head out to the fields.”

When they reach the fields, Zacian roars in excitement. Their rides had been fairly tame recently, strolling through the towns Nova was meant to meet people in and of course strolling through Stow-on-Side in hopes to run into Bea.

“Watch this!” Nova called to Bea as he prompted Zacian to pick up the pace. Zacian bounded eagerly over the rocks and haybales in the area, darting between one obstacle and the next, always searching for the next harder challenge as if they were running through a dressage course. Nova found himself laughing with joy as he felt the wind rush over his face, blowing whatever hair stuck out from his helmet behind him.

“Wow, that was incredible!” Bea exclaimed when they returned. “The two of you have clearly been practicing! Zacian really is something special.”

Nova grinned, and Bea continued. “We’ve been practicing something too,” she said with an excited smile. The fighting-type Gym Leader prompted her Mudsdale to bend its front legs, leaning its head down as as assumed a similar position on her horse with a sly smile. “Your majesty,” she said in a slightly teasing tone, one not many people heard often around Bea.

Bowing. They were bowing to him and Zacian, Nova realized, his face turning a deep shade of red as he blushed at the thought. Had Bea trained her Pokemon to bow? For him? “That was incredible! That must have taken a lot of work.”

Bea grinned. “Thank you! We’ve also been working on Mudsdale here walking sideways,” she said, demonstrating the trick which her Pokemon pulled off with precision and excellent form. “But of course, it’s probably not quite as impressive of a trick.”

The two trainers rode around the fields some more, showing off tricks and having a fun time together until the sun began to set and Bea announced that her stomach was rumbling. Nova found them a smooth, flat rock for the two of them to sit on as he grabbed some protein bars and vegetables for the two of them and their Pokemon to snack on from his bag.

They watched the sunset in a peaceful silence, a beautiful display of pinks, oranges and reds that lit up the scenery around them. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, though Nova certainly did notice how close Bea sat to him on their just barely big enough rock, their shoulders occasionally bumping as one of them grabbed an item to snack on or adjusted their posture. He also was acutely aware of the way the warm glow radiated against her skin and illuminated the brightness of her eyes, which were a cool tone in contrast.

Feeling a little nervous about the closeness between them, he fidgeted slightly with the dry grass to his side, noticing one lonesome white flower that stuck out among the crisp blades. Without thinking, he picked it, eager to give it to Bea. Maybe tonight would be a good night for him to finally admit his crush on her. After all, they’d had a perfectly fun day together and were now sitting in front of a romantic sunset. He took one deep steadying breath and opened his mouth to begin his confession.

And the feeling of her head falling to rest on his shoulder stopped him. Her eyes remained open as she kept her face pointed towards the setting sun; she wasn’t asleep and the movement hadn’t been by accident. He felt his heart stop and Butterfree flutter in his stomach as this realization hit him. Carefully, Nova slipped the flower into the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t want anything to interrupt this moment. Whether she did it because he meant more to her, like a romantic suitor or a crush, or whether it was because she was a girl who shouldered more responsibility than any sixteen year old should have to that needed to lean on her friend, Nova didn’t care. He would be whatever she wanted, whatever she needed in that moment.

They stayed there, just like that for quite some time. Nova wasn’t sure how long had passed- seconds, minutes, hours. “We should probably be heading back,” Bea said when the first stars appeared in the sky. She was right of course, the terrain was already rocky enough during the day without adding the complication of zero visibility during the nighttime. At least for now, there was a slight glow of the setting sun that allowed them just enough light to avoid any major obstacles.

When they arrived at Bea’s house, both trainers slid off of their Pokemon and hesitated before saying their goodbyes. It was clear their date was coming to an end, though Nova racked his brain for any excuse to extend the moment just a little longer, make their perfect afternoon go on for just a bit more time. He settled on the flower he’d picked while they watched the sun set.

“Here, I picked this for you earlier,” he said, handing the flower out to her.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile as she took the flower delicately. She twisted the stem between her thumb and her forefinger. “It’s really pretty,” she continued as she watched the flower spin within her gentle grasp.

Before he could stop himself, Nova took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place a sweet kiss on the back of her hand, just as a prince would for his lady. Both trainers were blushing a deep shade of red before their eyes could meet again. “I really had a lot of fun with you today,” Nova said. “Thank you for coming along with me on my ride today.”

Bea grinned back, her face still flushed with pink. “Thank you for inviting me! And the riding outfit, and the flower. You’re really sweet, Nova. I had a lot of fun today.” She began turning towards her house. “See you later, Nova!” She called as she walked through the front door.

Climbing onto Zacian, Nova grinned. So maybe he hadn’t totally confessed how he felt to Bea tonight, but the outing was still incredibly fun and successful, he thought. It was certainly one he wasn’t going to forget for a long time.

#Pokemon fanfiction #bea #Pokemon bea #gym leader bea #Pokemon sword and shield #OC #Oc x canon #Nova x bea #Bea x nova

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crystalgirl259 · 4 years ago

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The Flame and the Dragon Ch19

Chapter 19: The Gift

The cold wind bit mercilessly at Kai's exposed neck and cheeks. It had been snowing heavily for almost a week and snow blanketed the landscape once the blizzard ceased. Thick icicles hung from the balconies and roofs of the castle, and snow caked the roofs and towers. But the frosted surface, open fields of white hills, and frosted trees created the perfect environment for the playful staff. White, fluffy snow crunched loudly beneath his fur-lined paddock boots.

Harumi gave Kai a new pair of thick leather riding breeches and a long-sleeved, form-fitting, dark crimson turtleneck.

Over the outfit, he wore a long, red fur coat that covered most of his skinny frame. Soft fur tickled his skin and snuggly hugged the warmth to his body while the leather exterior managed to block any wind that dared try and penetrate it. Kai spun around a couple of times admiring the new coat from all angles and wondering what Cole would think if he saw him in it. Flame trotted beside him, overjoyed to see his master again. Nelson was running around the castle grounds with them, excited to see and touch a real-life horse for the first time in over a century.

The stallion was happy to let the boy pet him and ride on his back.

He always loved attention, just like his owner. The horse suddenly snorted into Kai's spikey hair and rubbed against his arms. He sniffed Kai's jacket and started digging through it Kai laughed at the treatment and pulled a juicy red apple from his pocket. He grinned as Flame's dark eyes lit up and he carefully snatched the apple from his master's hand and devoured the tasty treat. When he was finished he licked Kai's cheek, making the teen laugh loudly.

None of them noticed Cole admiring them from the balcony, watching the stallion triumphantly gallop across the snow-covered plains.

A small smile was on Cole's face when he watched Flame play with Kai and Nelson. His main focus was on his captive, though once in his thoughts the word no longer seemed appropriate. He felt a small jump in his chest when Kai smiled and laugh when Nelson tried racing Flame. Cole realized that was the first time he'd ever truly seen Kai smile or laugh. The teenager smiled brilliantly and laughed alongside Nelson as he had never before experienced something so enjoyable in his life.

It was a stark contrast to the feisty character he'd become accustomed to.

Just the sight of Kai's warm smile he'd kept hidden from him melted Cole's frozen heart. His breath hitched being suddenly exposed to the most innocent and blissful side of the otherwise resolute and world-hardened young man. For a brief moment, Cole would've given anything to have Kai smile at him like that. Subconsciously, his hand touched his bandaged torso beneath his opened coat. He hadn't bothered wearing a shirt under it, in case Kai insisted he changes the bandages again.

The wound had fully healed by now.

It had taken much longer than he thought it would have, and had no doubt it could've been a lot worse, had it not been for the teen's persistence. Cole had never felt this way before. His claws subconsciously moved to his chest as if feeling his heartbeat for the first time as it thundered in his chest. He sighed in frustration and started back towards his room, and down the stairs. Cole collapsed into his favorite chair at the head of the dining room table and sank to the seat.

His hands started massaging his temples in a desperate act to help him think but it did little to help.

His attention turned to the wide window, the curtains were drawn open. He could only faintly see the dots of his captive and his servants, but that perfect smile Kai had worn so effortlessly burned vividly in his mind. He sighed and collapsed his upper body against the table. A small stab of pain filled his chest at the realization that he was probably the only one who hadn't had the honor of seeing Kai smile like that. Or maybe he had and didn't realize it.

He had felt this foreign emotion for reasons he assumed was simply because he hadn't had time to focus on them.

When he saw Kai today, playing in the snow with Nelson he'd normally just think it was childish or idiotic when the only thing they'll do is get cold and wet, but he'd never felt this way before. Like he'd do anything to him smile like that all the time. With that thought, Cole rose to his feet, eyes bright with determination. He wanted to do something for him and not as a thank you or a repayment, just for the hell of it. He'd heard through the grapevine that Kai loved books, though the statement didn't surprise him.

It seemed natural that Kai would possess an artistic soul.

An idea formed in Cole's mind, forming a grin. With that, he turned around and burst from the room, radiating an aura that could rival the people playing outside in the snow...

****************

After putting Flame back in the stables and Nelson had said goodbye because he had some chores to do, Kai had intended to go and find someplace to get warmed up again and rid the cold from his bones. That is until Cole suddenly pulled him aside and said that he had something to show the teen. Kai was confused by that, but his curiosity won and he followed close behind the Dragon Lord as they walked to his surprise. Neither of them said anything.

It was like when Kai first arrived at the castle, but there was now hardly any tension between them.

Kai recognized the way to the ballroom, only instead of entering, Cole continued walking, so Kai followed him. The brunette looked around at the area of the castle he had yet to explore. Large curtains pooled like waterfalls of gold and silver around the enormous windows. The pale moonlight poured through them illuminating the different posed dragon statues standing in between each window. The hallway ended in front of two curved-shaped ivory doors outlined in gold, beneath a glittering emerald tapestry embroidered with a huge silver tree.

Cole suddenly came to a stop and Kai barely managed to stop walking straight into the hybrid's back.

He opened his mouth to speak, but again was cut off, this time by a sudden blackness wrapping around his eyes.

"Cole, what are you doing?" He asked as his hands instinctively moved to remove the blindfold, but Cole stopped him.

"It's a surprise, and I can't have you spoiling it by peeking." He said, loosely tying the cloth securely around Kai's eyes. He kept his paw on Kai's hands. Kai sighed and let Cole guide him.

"Can't you trust me by now? What if I promise not to open my eyes?"

"I do trust you, but I also know your curiosity has a nasty little habit of always getting the better of you." He admitted. The scream of wooden doors opening filled Kai's ears. Temporarily blinded, he let Cole guide him inside the mysterious room. They stopped in the middle of the room, and Cole let go of his hands.

"Can I take this thing off now?" Kai said more impatiently than he meant to sound, but there was anxiousness that didn't go unnoticed by Cole.

"Not yet." He whispered. A swoop sound and a gust of wind was his only warning, followed by the screech of reeling curtain holders. The light brightened the darkness covering his eyes and Kai wondered if that was moonlight.

"Now?" He asked with the anticipation of a child waiting for a birthday present. A loud thump was his answer.

"Now," Cole said as he carefully cut the blindfold and moved so he could see Kai's reaction. Kai kept his eyes closed for a second, momentarily fearing what he was going to see but his enthusiasm won and they slowly opened, then bulged with joy. A gasp of delight escaped his mouth and his cheeks flushed with happiness. He spun around taking in the wonder around him and resisted the urge to pinch himself in case he was dreaming all of this.

"This is incredible!" Kai breathed, his amber eyes alive and bright with childish wonder as they took in his special surprise. He was in the largest, most magnificent library he had ever seen. The room was enormous and rectangular with a roof that curved to a slope. Books lined all four of the walls so tall ladders were placed on them in intervals. The shelves were separated only by two enormous stained glass windows stretching all the way to the ceiling.

The moonlight illuminating them in a way the sunlight never could.

In the corner, an elegant golden staircase with spiral patterns carved into the wooden banisters spiraled to a second floor, an entire open circle overlooking the first floor. The bookcases on the second level, looped together like a giant circle stopping just at the base of a huge mural painted in rich detail upon the ceiling. A midnight blue dotted with silver stars with bigger ones forming constellations, whose true forms were painted in brilliant gold lines.

On the ground floor, globes were dotted around as well as several couches and chairs.

Two or three large desks made from giant smoothed slabs of stone made a suitable workstation on either side of the room. Two bookcases stretched from the walls stood on either side of an enormous white marble fireplace trimmed with gold and interline with black onyx. Just above it behind the banister of the second floor rested another huge stain glass window. Only this one was arched and was decorated with the symbol for the Tree of Knowledge.

But what stunned Kai the most were the books.

They were different from the ones he was used to. Each book was an antique, bound in velvet, leather, or hardcovers with thick hinges. Some had locks while others had jewels embedded in the cover. Older volumes had simple plain leather or velvet coverings with only the title on the side. Others were painted a vibrant blue, red or green. Age had dulled the colors, but none of them lost their wisdom. Upon closer inspection, he noticed each elegantly carved bookcase had a sliding glass cover protecting the books from air and moisture.

Even the second floor has multiple glass doors despite the circular shape, showing him these books had not just been well-used but loved and cared for.

Kai practically jumped with excitement, before bolting around and pouncing on Cole in a hug so sudden he almost fell over.

"I take it you like it?" He laughed.

"I love it! I've never seen so many books in my life, or such an amazing place, I mean look at this!" The teen beamed as he raced around like a kid in a candy store, admiring each shelf, each globe, each desk, the fireplace, then bolting up the spiral staircase and exploring the entire top section. He moved so fast Cole got dizzy following him.

"Thank you!" Kai smiled when he came back downstairs, and hugged him tightly. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"I'm glad you enjoy it." Cole's smile brightened. Kai's face was almost an exact mirror of the one he'd seen earlier. "Because it's yours." He added and Kai gasped in shock. He examined the hybrid's face for any hint of lies, but when he saw none, the brunette squealed in delight as he wrapped Cole in a tight hug.

"Oh, thank you so much!"...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #lavashipping #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago lloyd #ninjago nya #ninjago nelson #ninjago tox #ninjago shade #ninjago neuro #ninjago echo #ninjago harumi #ninjago morro

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20poundsoftrouble · 4 years ago

Text

Scourge Attack

((Co-written with @brent-sunborn / @thefugitivemango. It’s backdated to when the scourge event happened.))

The shop closed early for the day, much to Hyacinthe’s delight. So many orders were coming in for traps and explosives and cloaking devices that their hands ached from wiring and bolting and fastening. The devices weren’t difficult to build, just tedious. And that was the worst part. Nothing could be done to speed up the process, they just had to work straight through it.

Outside of Cut Throat Alley there were sounds of a bit of commotion, but it was hard to tell exactly what was going on. Given the recent celebrations for All Hallow’s Eve, the engineer figured that people were carrying on like they did. Things on the warfronts had quieted down with everyone’s efforts, so a bit of relaxing was due. With a smile, Hyacinthe retired to their loft bed, limbs aching with each ladder rung.

A scream cut through the walls of the shop like a knife, loud and shrill. The bard jumped, then scrambled across their bed to the window at the head and pushed it open. Said window overlooked the canal, where Hyacinthe could clearly see people running now. There was an acrid stench that hung in the air, but it could almost be dismissed before their blue eyes settled on it.

The risen scourge beast was giving chase to the woman who had screamed, dirt and grime falling off of its decaying body with each footstep. Old bandages trailed behind it, and where that one came from there were more shambling in. Hyacinthe’s heart dropped to their stomach at the sight, fingers digging into the window sill until their knuckles were white. The woman hadn’t escaped, and her screams had trailed off into a sickening gargle when the scourge beast bit into her throat.

“I have to run,” Hyacinthe muttered, yanking the window closed and bolting it.

They had already packed some bags in preparation for the newest dig, which was fortunate. It was easy to shove a few more things into a bag, just in case they could never come back. Hyacinthe’s heart was racing and sweat was beading on their forehead, causing the dirt and grime to pour into their eyes and hair to stick to their skin. For just a moment, the bard pulled their hands back from the bags and just looked at them. They were shaking, skin pale.

It was just like before.

Hyacinthe almost flew down the ladder to the ground floor with their bags and guitar, barely missing a beat when they shouldered the main door open and turned to lock it behind them. The air in the alleyway was cool and briefly felt like a blessing, but what was the next step. They looked down the small corridor that led to the canal-lined road, where they’d seen that woman get killed.

“Kai will be fine, she’s strong,” the bard muttered to themself, taking a deep breath to try and calm their nerves. “Brent. I need to make sure he knows.” Luck and adrenaline made the trip to their dig partner’s apartment quick, and they had narrowly avoided a group of geists feasting on a corpse. Hyacinthe knew how this would play out, they’d been through it before. First, the smaller undead came through and caused havoc. They were pawns, expendable. When the city was exhausted from wave after wave of geists, ghouls, risen skeletons… That’s when the bigger monsters would come. Abominations would lumber through and crush everything in their path. Armored skeletons with glowing eyes and large swords would swarm. Was Stormwind going to be razed in lichfire like Quel’thalas had been?

The engineer almost ran into Brent’s door before pounding on it, looking down the street to make sure there were no scourge following them. Tears poured from Hyacinthe’s eyes, anxiety unable to stay dammed up and controlled. Their breath was fast, hitching with fear as they pounded on the door again. “BRENT!” Hyacinthe shouted, voice cracking. “Please be home…!”

The door swung open just as Hyacinthe started pounding again. A hand reached out to grab the bard, and tugged them inside brusquely! Before they could say or do a thing about it, the door closed behind them.

“--Keep it down!” Brent hissed, shouting in a whispered tone. “You want to attract them all here?!”

The lights were out. Windows were boarded up and barricaded in the entryway. Quickly, he moved to re-barricade the door itself. It seemed Brent was well aware of what was happening outside. Or… did he always live like this? It was honestly hard to tell, both with how sturdy-looking the shutters were, and how well-practiced he seemed at barricading the door behind him. The front entryway of his domicile seemed rather barren. Simple crates and a small weapons rack filled with knives and swords and… a few pistols?

“Ditch anything you don’t need. Quick.” he instructed.

“Wh…?” they blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness quickly.

Without really thinking about it, Hyacinthe set down their bags and guitar case, swallowing hard against their quick breaths in an attempt to slow it. Really, the inside of Brent’s apartment was a new place, but this wasn’t the time to be nosey. Their gaze settled on the weapons rack, then shifted to Brent again.

“Can we run? Should we run?” the bard asked almost frantically as they reached for the two sheaths attached to their guitar case, a set of vicious looking daggers pulled from them. Hyacinthe’s mind was going a mile a minute, but everything felt like it was in slow motion.

“--Of course we’re gonna run.” Brent snapped, clearly on edge, himself. “The city will be overrun in mere hours. I’m not sticking around for that again.”

With the door barricaded, he turned and strode with purpose towards another room; the doorway separating the entryway and deeper into the domicile veiled by a large, rather plain-looking drape.

“This way, quick-- bring whatever you’re taking, and leave the rest there.”

On the other side of the drapery was… another world entirely! At least, it seemed that way. The dark, warehouse-esque entrance hid a lavish interior in the main room, much better lit than the entrance. The room was reminiscent of a den in Silvermoon, with violet cloth and silver trim rather than the traditional red and gold. In lieu of any furnishings, pillows were strewn about on small platform-like mattresses-- there wasn’t an inch of the floor that didn’t look like it’d make for a comfortable seat or bed! The walls were indented in several hexagonal shelves, resembling something of an elegant honeycomb. Each shelf displayed something different; a vase, a bust, a mask, an ancient weapon on a stand… archaeological pieces, every one of them. A few had incense stands, burning lightly to fill the room with an intoxicating lavender undertone. Elsewhere on the walls were paintings, of an unusually erotic-yet-abstract nature.

None of this, save the artifacts, seemed at ALL like Brent.

As Hyacinthe entered the room, he closed a large, vault-like door behind them, and began to barricade the entrance all over again. He latched it closed, turning a large wheel to lock mechanisms on all sides. Then, as if that weren’t enough, he began placing beams in cross-pattern to further secure the doorway. Pre-cut beams and pre-sized slots… this room was designed for such security. It was a door fit for a royal vault, decorated like a royal brothel.

“Fucking Scourge… I knew we hadn’t seen the last of them.” he grumbled to himself, as he worked. “Why the fuck didn’t Kai say something?”

“She might not have known…” Hyacinthe’s statement trailed off, eyes going wide at the abrupt change in decor. For just a moment they were distracted, but the visions of Silvermoon made their heart ache anew. The bard was sweating again, breath short and fast as they stood still. No, no it was happening again. The purples and silvers and opulence brought back the sounds of screaming from the taking of Quel’thalas, and tears welled up in Hyacinthe’s eyes. The daggers that they’d been holding clattered to the floor. It was clear that though they were physically there, mentally they were disassociating enough that Brent ceased to exist.

Hyacinthe could remember very clearly the day the attack happened. Both of their parents had gone out to help defend the city, leaving their daughter behind to hide at home. While their parents were out, Hyacinthe had barricaded themselves in their closet, curled up behind the hanging robes and other outfits in the dark. The only sounds they could hear above the clamor of battle outside was their own choking sobs.

Brent, meanwhile, frantically focused on his preparations. The room was well barricaded now with the door secure. Still, his mind wouldn't leave it. He double checked - and triple-checked - each reinforcement measure once by one, hoping for a sense of security that simply wouldn’t come. Not facing this again. By all rights, the Scourge should have killed him in Quel’Thalas all those years ago. He knew that. Since then, he always felt he was living on borrowed time. He wanted only to stave off his death as long as possible. And now that the Scourge were here again, he took no shortcut-- spared no expense-- to ensure that.

“I have enough food for two weeks, if we’re conservative about it.” he told Hyacinthe, as he began to kick a few pillows aside. “I don’t know think they’ll get through, but if they do, there’s an escape hatch that leads through--”

He blinked, as the High Elf simply… stood there. Wearing a look of shock on their face. He huffed, reaching out and plainly slapping Hyacinthe!

“--Hey! Focus!” he shouted! “You let your guard down for even a second and we’ll get eaten! You understand that?!”

The strike twisted their head to the side, but not a noise was made as they brought their hand up to their face. It did snap them back to reality, but Hyacinthe just nodded quietly before looking around again. This wasn’t Quel’thalas, and this wasn’t their closet. The current sights and smells were leaking back into the bard’s perception like the first spring rain rolling off of a roof, bringing clarity back. “Yes, sorry. We… We won’t get eaten,” Hyacinthe’s voice cracked, the corners of their eyes still wet. When they dropped their hand, the red mark from Brent’s slap stood out bright on their pale and freckled skin. “We’ve got each other’s backs.”

Hyacinthe looked around the room, slowly becoming more animated. A little closer to the Hyacinthe Brent knew. They’d think about the sad another time. Now, blue eyes were searching for anything to help rig up traps. If the scourge got this far, the rogue wanted to get them hung up a little longer, allow them and Brent to get farther away. Managing Brent’s anxiety with over fortification would be easier than dealing with their own PTSD, at least for the moment.

“You said food, and a hatch? I’m sorry, I… Could you say it again? I’m here this time, I promise.”

Brent huffed, turning from Hyacinthe back to the clearing in the pillows he’d kicked aside. Reaching down, he tugged a section of the rug up, revealing a small floor panel with a handle set in. He tugged it up, revealing another well-secured trapdoor beneath it, boarded and bonded similarly to the larger door leading into the room.

“This’ll lead to the sewers, if we need to get out of here. There’s another door like this at the end of a long stretch of tunnel, guaranteed to be clear. For now.” he explained. “Last resort, though… we gotta hold it down here, alright?”

He closed the panel back where it was, leaving the rug and pillows disheveled on the floor around it. Instead of tidying up, he stepped over to one of the wall shelves, and opened a small jewelry box. A light shone from within it, from which Brent himself seemed to recoil.

“Come here.”

“We’ll be fine. We won’t need to run,” they nodded, more saying it to themselves than Brent.

With how fortified the room was, Hyacinthe was feeling just a bit more safe. They weren’t alone this time, and their partner was more than capable. The tension was dissipating a little bit, and it showed in their shoulders. The bard let out a slow breath, starting to realize that where Brent slapped them stung just a bit. Rude, but needed. Probably.

“What?” Hyacinthe wandered over, stepping over the piles of pillows that had been discarded to peer at the jewelry box. “Oh that’s pretty. What is it?”

“A Lightbomb.” Brent replied

He stepped back from it fully-- to give Hyacinthe a better look, or just to keep his distance, it was hard to say. The object was a glass orb, and as the name implied, it was aglow with a brilliant-yet-soothing Light which seemed to swirl within it like a liquid. It was rather calming to behold, warm to touch, but looked rather fragile as well. The box was lined with velvet padding, indented on the bottom to keep the orb from rolling around.

“Something I… found. A while back.” he half-explained further, with a shrug. “Throw it at a mass of undead, and it’ll vaporize them all. You’ll… you’ll have to do it, if the need should arise, yeah?”

He turned, stepping from the shelf to stand over beside a long bench, leaving the implication to hang in the air a moment.

“I didn’t know these were still around!” the bard shifted the box carefully to watch the swirling Light inside, visibly relaxing. Whether it was the effects of the orb itself or the distraction of the ever changing glow was unclear.

For Hyacinthe, remembering that Brent was void-touched only ever happened when they saw him from the back, the tentacles quite visible among the locks of dark hair. Curious things, dark purples and blues with an illumination that seemed to flicker like fire through them. The bard was drawn to them like a moth to flame, and it took considerable willpower to not just...reach out and touch them. As their thoughts wandered further down that path, Hyacinthe had to peel their eyes away from the orb and back into reality. Again.

“If they get in, I’ll burn them down while you open the trap door. You know I’ll watch your back, right Brent?” they offered a small smile, still not as bubbly as they once were. “And...thank you for not leaving me alone in this. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Hmph.” Brent scoffed. “Don’t get all sentimental. You’re just lucky you showed up before I locked the doors.”

The archaeologist huffed in a show of irritation; a facade to cover his lie. He’d locked up well before Hyacinthe showed up. Painstakingly and at no small risk to his Scourge-survival plans, he’d removed the beams, unlocked the latches, and pulled Hyacinthe in without giving it too much thought. But they didn’t need to know that.

His adrenaline started dying down as he knelt beside the bench. The slip-cover pulled off easily, and the top opened up to reveal a cache of survival rations-- the same tasteless hunks of nutrients the two would take out on digs.

“Like I said, I got enough here to last two weeks, at least. So long as you don’t binge eat the whole damn stash. Control yourself, like our lives depend on it.”

That said, he withdrew a ration and unwrapped it, taking an unappealing bite out of one of the corners. He sighed, sitting with his back to the wall on the sea of pillows; the only real place the floor itself could be seen in here was where he’d uncovered the hatch. There were definitely less-comfortable places to wait out a Scourge invasion.

“Do I really look like the type to binge eat anything?” Hyacinthe poked at their own stomach, smirking. Truth be told, they could stand to eat more…

As everything was seemingly returning to normal, or at least the current normal, the bard felt themselves relax just a little. This whole room looked so….extravagant. And here they sat, pants still slightly greasy from work, shirt smudged and ripped in a couple of places, hair a mess. It was positively backwards.

Hyacinthe had so many questions. None of this fit with the Brent they had started to know, but maybe there was much more to the man than they’d anticipated? There were worse places to be, especially given the circumstances, but this… This was different. The bard looked around the room again, as if taking it in piece by piece. Their eyes scanned over everything as they looked. Hyacinthe found a comfortable place to sit, drawing their knees to their chest and wrapping their arms around them. “Do those things taste terrible on purpose? To keep people from eating too many in one sitting? Maybe it’s to make sure people actually drink water…”

“They’re practical. All nutrients. Nothing added for taste. Extra shit like that just adds more weight to them.” he shrugged. “They’re not supposed to be treats, just energy to get you through… whatever you’re doing.”

More often than not, Brent ate these as meals. Not just on the go, or as a last resort; too often he was busy or distracted, and wouldn’t sit down to prepare a meal or seek one out. Whipping a ration out of one of his pockets was simple enough to do. He always carried at least two or three.

He motioned to a curtain-- it looked like the other curtains in the room that filled in as wall decor, but on closer inspection there was a small door behind it, easily missed unless you were looking for it.

“Water’s in barrels in the washroom, through there.” he told them. “If you’re thirsty.”

Another bite, as he rested his head back with a sigh. He’d calmed down pretty well, by now. His ear flickered at every sound, but most of them were muffled beyond hearing. Occasionally a scream could be heard, if it was high-pitched enough. Brent tried not to dwell on what was happening outside. It seemed all he could do to keep his mind off of it.

“... Fucking undead.” he grunted. “Ruined the surprise.”

“Practicality doesn’t have to taste, or feel, like a brick…” Hyacinthe muttered, but they weren’t quite keen on eating one just yet. Not after what they’d seen…

Their eyes drifted from Brent to where he’d motioned, making note of the washroom. If they were going to be stuck here for weeks, at least they wouldn’t stink. Though, their mind was drifting along with the idea of being stuck anywhere for weeks. With Brent or no, the idea of being trapped made their skin crawl. There was only so long that staring at everything would occupy their time.

“Surprise? Did you buy Kai something to smooth over her being mad about you having a new partner?” they tilted their head to the side curiously, grateful for a distraction.

"Hah…"

Brent exhaled a dry and humourless laugh, bordering on a sarcastic scoff. He shook his head.

"That's… no. Not even close. You don't really have a handle on my friendship with Kai, so it's fine. But we're not the 'get each other gifts' kind of friends."

That being said, Brent himself wasn't entirely sure what kinds of friends he and Kai'eka even were anymore. It definitely didn't feel the same as it did back before the void. And her death only seemed to drive them further apart. Like the elf herself, their friendship seemed like a hollow husk of what it was before. He sighed at the thought, before shaking his head again.

"Last gift I got her was a box of cigars. She totally missed the point of them, though. Just demanded more later on, like it was one more use she could squeeze out of me…" he huffed. "But that doesn't even matter, yeah? I thought her death was the end of it. The chapter closed up on it. But then she had to go and get raised…"

Hyacinthe nodded quickly in understanding. They hadn’t thought Kai was the type for gifts, based on the brief meetings of her. A curious lady, brash and rude but it was...interesting? Not a person the bard would have ever chosen to interact with, but not unpleasant either. Hyacinthe watched Brent’s face as he spoke, trying to glean more from his expressions to add to his words. They had a small talent at reading audiences, might as well put it to use now.

“She wasn’t done causing you grief, apparently,” they smiled, chin resting on their knees. “So what was the surprise that was ruined?”

They tilted their head to the side curiously. The mention of the surprise was a much needed distraction, and if Brent was observant enough he could tell that Hyacinthe was slowly relaxing from where they sat trying to make themselves smaller in the strange room. No, they weren’t adjusting at all, but they were less terrified. And less worried about feeling stupid about that fear.

The Ren'dorei regarded Hyacinthe a moment, seeming to read them right back. His chewing slowed, eyes narrowing-- not in conjunction with a scowl, but rather in a pensive manner. A sharp exhale out his nose, and he shook his head.

"You'll see." came the unsatisfactory reply. "Later."

Content enough where he was, he crossed his arms and leaned his head back. With the adrenaline dying down, he felt fatigue starting to set in. They were safe enough for him to lower his guard and relax… but those ears of his kept perked and twitched at every little sound. He needed sleep, but knew it wouldn't be restful. Just as well.

"Now keep quiet and still. Don't rustle around too much. You'll only draw attention." he huffed. "We're okay for now, rest while you can, in case we have to run or fight later."

Hyacinthe knew as well that neither of them would be resting, but sleeping was the best way to pass the time. It’s how they had passed the first day of the attacks when they were younger as well. Without complaint, the bard shifted around pillows until a nice little nest was made, then curled into it. They wrapped their arms around a pillow and hugged it tight, closing their eyes and trying to not think of the things they’d seen on the way over here.

Though their body settled into a sleeping rhythm after a while, Hyacinthe still looked on edge. Their dreams wouldn’t be pleasant, but there was a small measure of safety in not being alone. This deep in hiding, the sounds from outside were mostly muffled.

#hyacinthe #brent #rp log #ptsd #scourge attack #scourge event #world of warcraft #roleplay #high elf #void elf #Brent Sunborn #Hyacinthe Duskbrook

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thots4daze · 5 years ago

Text

HAPPY CHRISTMAS Y’ALL ! ! ! IT’S A ME, Z !

i’ve been hella busy writing a whole bunch of stuffs for rps that i have joined and what not. but this little gem right here i have been working on tirelessly for the last week or so because i was being a lazy asshole and couldn’t narrow down all the ideas i had in mind for this~!

SO! This is my Secret Santa gift to the lovely and wonderfully talented @haikyuu-philia HEY BABY ! ! ! ! SURPRISE IT’S ME ! I hope you enjoy this fic I have composed for you.

Have a Merry Merry Christmas and holiday season and an even better start to your New Year ! ! !

FLUFF AND MORE FLUFF BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE EVER ADORABLE SUGAWARA KOUSHI

ENJOY LOVE !

It’s been a few years of you living abroad, studying hard and working even harder to make sure your life goals stay on track. Everything in life you have had a goal or plan and for the most part stick to it. Making sure to account for everything. The one thing that you never could have planned or accounted for came in the form of a sweet, literal angel on earth. With ashen silver locks, kind, warm eyes. Sugawara Koushi. A classmate of yours, and the first person to talk with you when you first enrolled into the university. Calm, polite and so, so very handsome how could you not enjoy speaking with the young man. Soon, casual conversations in class turned to walking to classes together, talking in hushed tones with little inside jokes spoken to one another. Catching glances from across the room at the sorority and frat parties, tipping solo cups in each other’s directions. Linking arms and sharing umbrellas. Everything seemed so wholesome and perfect. And utterly unplanned. You found yourself falling harder and harder for your guardian angel. Something that was not part of your 5 year plan. Not to mention, with you being a shy person by nature - it was just surprising is all. But he, he’s the kind soul that he is, it was so easy for you to lose yourself in his presence, his words comforting and warm. He was able to pull you from your shell no matter the situation and after some time it became something that you looked for. Time together was spent hanging out with his friends or just the two of you. Enjoying the other’s company, reading, going to the local cafes and trying out some sort of new food of fad - snapshots taken to preserve the wonderful and fun moments. Suga had wanted to talk with you as soon as he saw your timid form stroll into his first class of his freshman semester. How could he not? You were cute and you looked out of place in the Japanese university, but never in a bad way - he would internally freak out and try to back track as if he spoke the words out loud and offended you. He would never, in a million years, want to do anything that would offend you. He never would want to see that smile fade from your face. Once he saw that radiant smile come from you, and at something he said, he was a goner and made himself his own personal goal to always make you smile like that whenever he could.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Christmas time was upon you, and you had planned out your holiday trip - starting with purchasing gifts for your family and friends. One friend in particular; a amber eyed angel. You had decided to purchase a new watch for the guy, seeing as you may have been the cause of why his last watch is no longer operational. By complete accident of course. So, this was the perfect gift in your eyes. You may have also planned to announce your feelings for him too. But it would have to wait until after Christmas. You had plans to travel back home to see your family and your plans would not be derailed.

Or so you had hoped.

Again, the plans of your life had a wrench thrown in to knock you back a few steps. You mother had called you, you thinking it was to finalize the travel plans for the winter vacation. Instead it was her to tell you that they had received a nice bonus from your dad’s job and they were going to kick it on the beach and enjoy the warm weather this Christmas time.

“I’m sorry baby, but your father just surprised me with the news!” Your mother was apologetic but you could hear the excitement in her voice. You were happy for the two of them, they needed time away from it all. So you wished them a Merry Christmas and that you’d make plans to visit them in the new year.

Sighing you hung up and laid there on your apartment couch, wondering what you were gonna do. Christmas was in a few days and you had canceled any and all other plans with friends expecting to be on a plane heading home to see the family.

As you were contemplating on what you were going to do you received a text message from Sugawara. A giant grin gracing your features. You couldn’t help but to smile anytime you were with him or hell, even thought of the man. He was just too perfect.

Hey, Y/N what’re you doing tmro?

Nothing. You? Immediately you typed a reply and before you could second guess yourself hit the send button. The three little dots flashing at the bottom of the screen got your heart racing. His reply only made it beat quicker as a small blush coated your cheeks.

Perfect. Be ready by 6~

Yep. Definitely perfect.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Christmas Eve was upon you in a flash. You had spent as much time as possible making sure your outfit was in perfect condition. You were not going to mess up this night! Shyness be damned!

However, as 6 o'clock drew near you were beginning to get nervous. Anxious more like. Was this a date? No. It was just you going out. On Christmas eve, with a friend. Who happens to be a guy. Who also happens to be the guy you have a huge crush on. As you continued on down your list you felt you skin grow hotter by the second. Blushing furiously you shook your head to try and rid yourself of those embarrassing thoughts. Though, you wouldn’t mind being closer to Koushi than you are now.

Content sighs escaped your painted lips as you finished touching up your outfit, double checking that his gift was still wrapped nicely and snug in your purse. A giddy feeling began to take over and soon there was a knock at the door. There on the other side was Sugawara looking like a downright snack. Dark skinny fitted jeans with his dress boots, a colorful sweater blending blues and purples and pinks together beautifully brought out the sparkles in his eyes as he looked you over. The color rushed to your cheeks once more as you caught his gaze as it raked up and down your form - more than once. A feeling of pride but also second guessing your choice in attire. All negative thoughts were blown away when he opened his mouth, a large smile on his face,

“You look amazing.”

The smile that you graced him with nearly knocked him back just by the sheer genuineness of it. He loved that smile of yours and loved even more knowing that it was directed at him, because of him. Sugawara could die a happy man just from that alone. Though, he would be missing you terribly.

Extending his elbow for you to take he called out to you drawing you from your less than appropriate thoughts, “Well? Shall we go, m'lady?” You nodded your head and took his arm, making sure to grab your purse and keys, locking up before the two of you took off on your adventure. As the two of you walked and conversed he informed you that you would be sharing a nice, warm dinner before going out for some hot chocolate or coffee, “Lady’s choice of course,” he added with a wink and from there it would be up in the air.

“Do you think we could go look at the lights? I haven’t gotten the chance yet this year,” you asked tightening your small grip on his arm, leaning into his frame more and more, trying to bite back the shiver that was taking over your body. He seemed to have noticed and brought you in closer, holding you tight and squeezing your hand just a tad bit.

A beautiful smile lit up the evening as he looked down at you, “Whatever you want to do, Y/N. It’s Christmas Eve.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Dinner was fantastic, you didn’t expect anything less, but you also didn’t expect it to be as fancy as it was either. Much more elegant that the other times you two have gone out. As friends. Strictly as friends… but tonight, it felt so much different. Felt so… right. The two of you had taken your time in heading to the little cafe that became your unofficial place. The place you would go to after classes together, or met up with each other during weekends, and study dates and it was the first place he turned to when he was trying to find you and you weren’t at your apartment. It was just your spot. And it was always going to be.

With warm cups in hand, you decided that now was the time to go view the lights in the park and in the market. Shop keepers went all out during the Christmas time, making sure to decorate and put lights up around the shops - inside and out. It lights up the night like only Christmas can and it was something you always made time for during the holiday season. Who was Suga to deny you your tradition?

So there you two were, warm cups in one hand while the others were preoccupied with one another. Holding hands, lightly squeezing the other to make sure they were still there. So as to not float away. The feeling of his hand in yours, it sent jolts of excitement and warmth and courage course through you. You didn’t want the feeling to fade. If only you knew that he was feeling the same; drawing from you all the emotions he wished he could tell you without being afraid or nervous or anxious. He would settle with just this for now if that’s what he could get.

The center of the market was fast approaching and with that it meant that more shops were going to have more decorations and lights meaning that it was going to be very bright and very magical. The perfect spot to give him his gift you thought to yourself, a fire burning in you to shake away all nervousness. And with this new found power within you, you began to tug and pull him along at a faster speed, him calling out with a chuckle to get your attention, “Whoa! Y/N!”

You stopped abruptly nearly causing Sugawara to run into you. Almost. Thankfully his reflexes from volleyball had helped him with his balance and he caught himself before causing any damage to your perfect frame. Once he was able to regain his posture you were spinning around to face him. Lights from every angle casting light across your features and he audibly sucked in a breath. He didn’t even notice that you had let go of his hands and were holding a small, neatly wrapped package in front of you. Sugawara Koushi was so captured by your beauty and the moment that his body acted on it’s own accord. Soon he found himself edging closer to your frame, tilting your chin up ever so slightly. His breath mixed with yours between your bodies in the cold air.

Hands came up, in what seemed like slow motion, to grip your upper arms lightly, but enough to know they were there. Suga’s face was inching closer and closer to your own. It all happened so fast, but so slow at the same time. You couldn’t react to him fast enough and soon you found his lips pressed against your own. Chapped and warm but also soft and you could taste the caramel from his coffee from earlier. It all came together in a very Koushi fashion and you couldn’t stop the smile that took root on your face, even as you two stood there in the middle of the pathway, lips locked together.

It was over as fast as it took place, with Sugawara pulling away first, a dark blush tinting his cheeks. If you hadn’t known any better you would have just thought that it was from the cold. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N, but I couldn’t help myself. You’re so cute and wonderful and kind and I’ve liked you for a long time now. And just now with the lights and tonight’s been a great night I just needed to take the plunge, ya know? And-,” he didn’t get to finish his rambling as you cut him off connecting your lips to his once more.

This time it was longer and deeper and much more fulfilling. Fresh, light snow falling gently down onto your intertwined bodies. Pulling away your breaths mixed between the two of you. “I really like you too,” but it was his turn to interrupt you, “What about your plans and goals. I know how much your future means to you and-”

“Koushi~,” you cooed, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Blinking in surprise. Where did this take control Y/N come from? He didn’t mind it in the slightest. It was refreshing actually. So he didn’t even try to resist the laugh that sprung from him. With foreheads touching, his hands wrapped around your body he pulled you as close to him possible. “I think I can manage that.”

Christmas Eve. A time that is spent with friends and family. A time to celebrate and live and love. Your time spent with Sugawara Koushi was always welcomed. It was time well spent in the company of warmth and genuineness care and just… home. Every other time you spent together was nice. Good. Friendly. But this, this time, it was different. Everything about tonight was. But it wasn’t a bad different. And it definitely wasn’t according to plan. But fuck the plans. You two were happy, and that’s all that mattered.

#z is here #z is hungry #z is weird #z is tired #secret santa #gift exchange #this was fun #this was so cute #this took me too long #it shouldnt have been this hard #but it was #so much fluff #fluff #sugawara koushi #haikyuu suga #christmas theme #christmas prompts #for christmas #hqss2019

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ashtonandcalslefthand · 6 years ago

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Checkmate (Prince!Cal) Part One

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Slowburn shitty writing, sorry.

Dedicated: To @angelbabylu for coming up with 90% of the beautiful names in this story and to @heartbreak-5sos for the infinite love and support you’ve given me, even if I don’t deserve it. Love you, Buggy 💗

She sat elegantly upon her throne as her brother furrowed his brow in concentration, the way she did everything. The wooden pieces were scattered across the board in a way that anybody else would call random, but nothing she did was ever ‘random’. Finally, Noah dragged his rook right, and his eyes lit up, his face lifting into an ecstatic grin, “Check.” He said in ecstatic surprise. She returned his bright smile with a cool smirk, and his face immediately fell.

She picked up her bishop, relishing the cool, smooth wooden piece in her hand as she took his queen in a simple, sweeping feat. She had won the game for the eighteenth time in a row. Her brother’s jaw fell agape in shock as his eyes widened in shock. She grinned slyly, “Checkmate.”

Elena watched as her brother’s eyes scanned the board, obviously attempting to point out a flaw in her moves, but he wouldn’t be able to. She knew it. Her plans were always meticulously perfected. “But, no. That can’t be right!” His eyebrows furrowed as she stood from her seat, her gown rippling with the sudden and unpredicted movement. He looked up at her, pouting slightly. “I really thought I had you that time.”

She let out a small, light chuckle, folding her hands behind her back, “I know you did.” She walked toward the hall, her heels interrupting the clean silence with every step. “Also, you know the rules, Noah. The loser cleans the board.” She said with a small pitiful smile, walking away as her brother groaned.

She had almost just left the room when Noah spoke. “You know, you will be expected in the throne room soon for the introductions, then in the ballroom for the remainder of the night. You won’t have much time for your reading and moping today.” She sent him a sharp glare but didn’t respond. Of course, she knew about what was happening today. It was custom for the groom to visit his bride’s home for a month since she would be living in his for the rest of her life.

Most women would be excited, but Elena saw it under a completely different light. To most people, it was an official engagement. To Elena, it was an unofficial trap.

“How could I forget?” She asked under her breath -- not to Noah, but to herself. She turned once again and walked down the hall, her head high and her jaw set. She walked down the hall the way she did everything -- elegantly.

“I overheard this afternoon from your mother that your prince’s name is Calum,” Emma whispered with a quiet giggle as she brushed through Elena’s long hair. “I asked around the girl’s of the castle, apparently he’s an angel in black.” Elena stared at herself in the mirror, blinking with the reflection as a small grin danced on her lips.

“Calum Hood,” She mumbled, tasting the name in her mouth. Elena had known the family name, but her parents refused to tell her anything else. Emma, her maid and closest friend, was her one and only source of information, and she never disappointed. “Tell me more about this black-clad angel.”

Emma giggled once more, wrapping Elena’s hair with gems and jewels as she tugged and teased, “According to rumours, he’s the precise opposite of you,”

Elena hummed a response, closing her eyes in an attempt to imagine what this mystery man might look like, “So there’s absolutely no chance of me liking him?”

Emma burst out in a fit of laughter before silencing herself, letting out a few stray chuckles, “I doubt you are so vain, Elena.” She said quietly, running her fingers through Elena’s hair once more.

Elena raised her eyebrows in the mirror but remained silent and still as Emma continued her quick-fingered work of preparing Elena for the dreaded night. The night she’d been looking forward to for weeks, the night that would set her fate in stone.

The night.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. Elena’s eyes were greeted by Noah in a suit blatantly tailored for a prince. Such a meticulous outfit paired with such a wild person was humourous to her. Elena found it so comical that she became oblivious to the lustful gaze Noah shared with Emma.

“Well, don’t you look dashing?” Noah scoffed at his sister’s ironic remark, running a hand through his hair, returning it to its natural unruly state.

“Shut up,“ He said jokingly, making his way to his sister as Emma tugged on her hair harder. “You look rather dashing yourself, El.” He mocked as Elena laughed and Emma blushed -- something she was prone to do around Noah.

“It’s all because of Emma’s talented fingers,” Elena beamed. Noah’s eyebrows shot up.

“Talented fingers you say?” He asked with a smirk that flew just below Elena’s radar. “Well, I just need to borrow Emma very quickly. Her quick fingers are needed,” Emma jumped up, knocking over a little cup of hairpins. She squealed, picking all the pins back up rapidly.

“Well, it looks like she’s done anyways,” Chuckled Elena. “She’s all yours,” She said and rose from her seat calmly as Noah walked out of the room, followed by Emma’s small stature.

“I know.“ He said with a grin. And then they were gone, and Elena was alone.

Elena felt royal. She felt it with every long-stride step she took and every bow she received. As she sat in the throne room, Noah to her left and her parents to her right, she as able to inhale without fear. This was her kingdom, this was her palace, this was her throne, and she was in control.

And then the Hoods walked in.

They walked in with a calm, serene, friendly air about them, with all the elegance and confidence of a royal family. Except for the son. Calum Hood.

He walked in with arrogance, smugness, cockiness, and certainty. He was dressed in a black jacket -- which was rolled up in the sleeves -- and a black shirt -- which was half unbuttoned -- and his crown -- which was nearly falling off.

“Welcome,” The king started with a warm (and obviously forced) smile, “To our kingdom.” Elena tuned out after that, she already knew the usual introductions and how long they took. Instead, she spent her time more wisely. She observed her fiancee.

He had dark, curly hair and it spiralled off his head into a mess of waves. That must drive the other girls wild, Elena thought. It didn’t help that he was tall and broad. He must’ve been a couple inches taller than Noah, and Noah towered above Elena, she could only imagine how tall Calum would be when compared to her, even in heels. She dragged her eyes all over him, attempting to memorize his features, attempting to size him up. It was only when her sight returned to his eyes that she noticed he was doing the same to her.

Most people would have looked away, blushed, something, but all the prince did was blink at her lazily, which she returned with her own unimpressed blink. And then they were staring at each other.

Neither was weak enough to break the gaze and yet neither was strong enough to speak out. So, they stared at each other with a calm, burning intensity. Finally, as Elena’s father’s speech came to a close, Calum blinked and Elena’s back straightened in pride and slight arrogance.

Calum didn’t look back at her for another five minutes, but when he did, she was looking right back at him with a smirk imprinted on her elegant face. Her lips formed soundless words, but he received the message. Checkmate.

The ballroom was big and beautiful, crafted to impress and impress it did. The ceiling was arched way above the dance floor, which was made of wood, sleek and smooth to the touch, and it was so clean it practically glowed underneath the light of the crystal chandeliers placed along the core of the ceiling. The whole room glittered gold, reflections of the colourful gowns and the star-dimming jewels moved like shadows along the dance floor. The whole room itself seemed to vibrate with the sound of music and polite chatter. She stood in the corner, far away from her family, further away from her guests, and furthest away from her fiance.

Still, just like her mother taught her, whatever you attempt to push away will always come back to you with twice as much force. She probably shouldn’t have taken her mother’s advice so lightly, especially during a moonlit walk in the garden.

Stop and smell the roses, that was one of Elena’s life mottos, and she thought of it with a grin as she bent over next to the bush of ruby red roses, inhaling the sickly sweet aroma of the blossoms. Suddenly, she began to choke and cough on what she quickly identified as smoke. Elena turned on her heel, looking around with eyes full of alarm, only to find Calum leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand.

Calum felt a presence and couldn’t help the immediate reaction of clenching his jaw. He’d never liked people, much preferred the company of a cigarette and some whiskey, not that his parents would ever let him say that out loud. So, he took a drag off the disease-stricken stick, inhaled, closed his eyes, and exhaled again. And he relished it.

“Those can kill you.” She did not say it as a question, she did not say it with disappointment, she said it as a fact, and Calum admired that. Lazily, he turned his head with his eyes still closed and opened his eyes to look at her.

His parents had refused to tell him anything about his fiancee before the limo ride over, during which they told him her name, which wasn’t particularly appreciated on Calum’s part, but they told him nothing about her appearance. At that point, he hadn’t expected much about this princess of his, but when he met her he had to bite his tongue so as to not drop his jaw. She was not the delicate little flower he expected, she was the delicate little bomb.

Calum shrugged nonchalantly at Elena as he inhaled another puff of smoke, “I know,” He didn’t flinch as he exhaled the smoke into her eyes. She didn’t flinch, either.

Without hesitation, she reached across him and plucked the cigarette from his long fingers with grace and light dominance. He didn’t attempt to pull it away from her like he would have with anybody else. Curiously, he simply watched as she pulled the cigarette up to her lips and inhaled fluently before passing it back to him, at which point he inhaled as she exhaled, and then he passed it to her and she took a drag as he exhaled. They continued this, smoking and breathing and slowly killing themselves together under the moon until the sun started to rise. At which point, the cigarette burned out. And then they lit another one.

The sun shone through the curtains, and he couldn’t help but admire her beautiful, soft features, the slight dip of her waist and how all of the creases in her forehead disappeared amidst the dreams she had in her sleep. He sat up, leaving as much of the room undisturbed as he stood up, redressed himself, kissed her forehead and whispered a quick, silent goodbye, and snuck out of the small room. Nobody had noticed when Noah and Emma snuck out of the ballroom together, quietly, of course, and made their way up to her still, seclusive bedchamber.

In the still of the late night, or, more like early morning, the ruffled and flushed prince made his way down the stairs, quickly buttoning his shirt back up as he ran down the steps, practically flying. It was to his dismay that the party was still alive, despite how long he’d been gone. He stopped by a mirror, quickly centring his jacket and fixing his hair before entering the ballroom.

Noah wasn’t as noticed as he usually was, today wasn’t about him. There were no ladies of the court hurling themselves at him, there were no relatives fawning over the oldest child, there were no visiting princesses or kings attempting to strike a deal with the family, no one was here for him. Everyone was here for his sister.

And no one knew where she was.

“I saw her just a moment ago, right before I spoke to Miranda, James, and Lacey. Oh, but I spoke to Meghan and Laura right after that...”

“Noah!” Everyone turned to him with wide eyes and fearful expressions, “Have you seen your sister?” He had been taught how to be the most regal of princes, and he acted the part under the heat of a hundred intense gazes.

“No,” He said, quickly coming up with lies that he’d begun to store in his mind. “I was just looking for her,” Noah’s hands had begun to sweat and he quickly hid them behind his back.

“Where have you searched?” His eyes darted across the room, avoiding eye contact.

“She wasn’t in the library or her room when I checked, but she could very well have moved,” He chuckled forcedly, “You know how restless Elena can be.”

No one was here for Noah, everyone was here for his sister, but all eyes were on him as he ordered the guards to search for her and then quickly started the music again, reassuring everyone that the party would continue.

No one was here for Noah as his hands' sweat for his sister and for Emma, who lay upstairs underneath her rough white sheets with a calm, angelic face. He didn’t know what he was doing as a thousand eyes gazed upon him for leadership and all he could hope was that, wherever Elena was, it was worth the trouble.

“The cigarette’s burned out,” Elena complained as she ground their third cigarette into the ground, frowning slightly.

Calum scoffed at her, “That would be because you keep smoking all of them.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, searching for warmth in the cold night air. The silence weighed down on both of them, the crushing pain of the whole night sky crashing down on their lungs making both their breaths laboured. “That was the last one,” Calum whispered, looking up as the sky’s blue lightened with every blink of his eyes.

“Okay,” She whispered back, staring at the ground.

The next time he turned to her, many minutes later, about to say something, he was only met by the cool night air. She had left, and now he regretted looking at the stars.

She was so much prettier.

Elena entered the ballroom with a frown and the faint smell of nicotine and moonlight clinging to her skin like a sheer sheet of sweat. She expected to be able to go up the stairwell silently, stripping off her breath-taking, rib-breaking dress, and going to sleep. She did not expect everyone to gather around her and begin screeching like out-of-tune hawks.

“Where on God’s green Earth were you?” The queen cried as she gripped onto Elena’s cheeks.

Startled, Elena stuttered. “I was, I, um, I-” Her mother paused her panic, looking at her with a level glare that said what Elena’s mother always said for her. It’s not becoming of a young woman to stutter. “I was outside. In the garden.” Elena stepped backwards, just outside of her mother’s reach, silently praying that she couldn’t smell the cigarette smoke on her breath, on her dress, on her skin. On her mind.

“The whole time?” Elena’s hair practically whipped as she snapped her head to the left, looking at her brother -- who looked oddly flushed.

Her eyebrows furrowed together at the look on everyone’s faces. “What do you mean, ‘this whole time’?” Everyone in the room collectively rolled their eyes. The court had an attitude this evening, apparently.

“Your Highness,” A guard she’d never met before started, “We haven’t seen you for four hours.” Her eyebrows skyrocketed and her jaw dropped as her eyes sought everyone else’s in the room. They weren’t lying.

“No,” She said, chuckling dryly, “No, that’s impossible.” She looked into her memory with open eyes. She had smoked in silence with her beautiful fiance for four hours. “No,”

Her mother blinked back to life as she pulled herself out of the scent of smoke and Calum’s body wash. “Where you alone all this time?” The queen asked fearfully, eyes kind.

Elena looked up, her mouth slightly parted with an unspoken truth. She looked beyond the crowd just in time to catch the beautiful prince’s dark eyes as he made his way towards the silent staircase, the sun starting to rise behind him in a beautiful glow. Not that Elena would admit it. They caught each other’s eyes just in time.

“Yes,” Elena said breathlessly, in a secret whisper. “All alone.”

Calum had almost slipped into shadows when she caught him mouthing wordlessly. Checkmate.

Tag List: @angelbabylu @5sosnsfw@bloodmoonashton@claredolphinbear24 @rainingcal @cal-pal-cuddles Thanks, love you <3

{💞💕 Message me if you’d like to be part of my tag list. 💕💞}{ 💞 💕 Don’t forget to send in asks and recs.💕💞 }

#prince #prince au #calum hood #princess elena #princess #noah #fanfiction #kinda proud #plz share #ily all #queued post #is this a good queue #well find out

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starstruck-thirst · 6 years ago

Text

Pariston Hill: Cake Date

@asamino asked: could you write about Pariston feeding you cake, please?❤

SFW, Fluff

“I’m so glad you decided to come out with me,” Pariston said as he opened the bakery door for you to walk through. The warm smell of fresh bread with an undertone of sugar and cream wafted out at you, hitting you like a baked good truck. “I think you’ll really like this place.”

You chuckled under your breath at him as you walked through the door, “Thank you, Mr. Hill. I’m sure it will be lovely.”

He followed you into the bakery and took in a deep breath, smiling more sincerely than he usually did at the office. The inside of the bakery was painted with warm neutral tones and it made you crave bread even more than you already were. Pariston walked past you towards the counter. He looked so excited and his white suit made him shine in the neutral environment.

“I didn’t know you liked sweets so much, Mr. Hill.”

“Please,” he said turning to look directly at you, “Call me Pariston.”

You hadn’t been sure when he asked for you to come out to a fancy bakery with him if it had been intended as a date, or if he was just trying to find someone to go to with him. And even now you weren’t quite sure. Was calling him by his first name a sign of him trying to just behave normally outside of the office?

“Of course. You can call me by my first name too,” you responded after a pause that hopefully wasn’t too long.

Something in the way he looked at you made you feel like he was pleased. “Go find a seat and I’ll order.”

“Oh. But it’s so expensive. Are you sure?”

He nodded and motioned for you to go find a table before going to the counter alone.

Your heart fluttered a little bit as you did as you were told. Now you were sure it was a date, and you could feel nervous energy take over your mind as you sat down at a table near the window.

When was the last time you had even been on a date? Why would Pariston Hill of all people ask you out?

You could feel your mind swimming with uncertainty as you clasped your hands under the table and fidgeted with your fingers out of sight. You had too much nervous energy now and you really wished you had a way to get it out.

“Sorry that took so long,” Pariston’s sweet voice broke your concentration on wondering if the outfit you had picked today was nice enough for a date.

“Not a problem!” You said in a pitch that you instantly wondered had been overly cheerful or not. “What did you get?”

Pariston sat down a silver tea tray in front of you before sitting himself, being mindful to smooth his suit jacket down as he moved. The tea set was real china, white with hand painted flowers on the rims of the cups and serving pieces. “I hope you like black tea. I thought it would go well with the sweet cake,” he said with a smile.

His long fingers took the small china tea cup and placed it in front of you on its saucer before filling it with fresh tea from the pot that came with the tray. Every move he made was so naturally elegant that your fingers curled into your hands. Suddenly you were worried you’d pick up the cup and spill it all over yourself like an embarrassment.

“I like black tea,” you replied as he poured himself a cup also. You leaned over your cup to take in the rising steam that curled with the smell of dark leaves and perhaps a touch of orange citrus. “Oh. That smells lovely. Is there orange peel in this?”

Pariston’s eyebrow raised just slightly at your comment. “You have a good sense of smell for tea I see. It does. Just a little though, nothing over powering.”

Being more mindful of your own movements than you had ever in your life, you reached up and sprinkled just a little sugar into the tea. “I know you said the cake would be sweet, but a bit of sugar will help bring out that orange,” you explained, as if worried he’d take offense. Were you worried he’d take offense?

If he had it didn’t show, he took his own cup to his lips and took a small sip as he watched you prepare your own tea with an apparent, warm joy. “How delightful. I didn’t know anyone at the association shared my interest in tea and cakes. I should have brought you here sooner.”

The sensation of a small blush crossed your cheeks as you lifted your cup, the warmth of the tea spread over your cold fingers and making you feel just a little bit more secure. “Oh, I couldn’t come here out of habit. It’s much to fine for someone like me,” you replied before sipping the warm beverage.

The orange wasn’t apparent in the first sip. The warm and slightly bitter black tea came first, making your mouth warm. The citrus flavor curled in under that, more apparent in its presence after the initial bitterness. Something about the combination was perfect for the weather: the end of a warm summer and the beginning of a crisp fall. You sighed into the cup thinking about the feeling. “It’s perfect.”

A soft clink made you look up again as Pariston set his cup down gently, “I like coming here. But it is better with good company, and I don’t mind paying if you promise to come with me again.”

“Well… I wouldn’t mind coming back with you again but don’t you worry…” you trailed off as you set the cup down as quietly as you could, but it still seemed loud comparatively.

“Worry about what?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head making his golden hair brush over his eyes. His smile smaller now, with a bit of a curious twist instead of the pleased grin he had been sporting.

“Worry… that people will think we’re dating?” you asked looking at the tea tray and its beauty as a form of distraction. You made yourself so uncomfortable with your own question, how would Pariston feel hearing it?

“Your cake,” came a sugary toned voice at your side suddenly. The woman that had brought the cake seemed to fit the bakery well, you thought as you looked at her- your new distraction. She was warm and her smile as she set the plate on the table made you feel comfortable in the building. Or it would have if you could even feel comfortable in your own skin at the moment.

“Thank you,” Pariston replied as she nodded and left. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

You managed to look at Pariston again before looking to the cake that had been left on the table. An innocent, white rabbit was sleeping on the plate that rested between the two of you. It couldn’t be bigger than one of your hands. “This is a cake?” you asked breathless. The smooth white of the rabbit shined under the sunlight that came in through the window.

“I was hoping you’d like it because it was cute,” Pariston replied with a laugh. “Tap it with your spoon.”

‘Is he making fun of me?’ you wondered as you gently picked up the spoon and turned it over so that the curve of it was towards the rabbit. “Okay…” you said and gently tapped the animal. It jiggled joyfully on the plate and you couldn’t help but to laugh and tap it one more time. “How is it a cake? It’s too cute to be a cake,” you mused out loud wondering how anyone could eat such a perfect thing.

“Oh, but it is delicious, I assure you,” Pariston responded as he picked up his own spoon. Smoothly he dragged the utensil through the rabbit, severing its head from the body. It was slightly scary, but at the same time the face staring at you from the smooth silver almost appeared as if it would pull itself out. As if in a lake. “Try it,” he commanded offering the spoon towards you.

It was hard to be sure but there was a good chance your face was completely red as you realized he intended to feed it to you. With only a slight hesitation you leaned forward and opened your mouth. Gently he guided the spoon into your mouth and waited for you to close your lips before sliding it back out of your mouth again.

The outside of the rabbit was creamy, with a bit of gelatin to help it keep its form. But the inside was a moist cake. Orange and spice mixed with the creamy outside and you wanted to get lost in the perfect taste that laid heavily in your mouth. Without meaning to you let out a low, delighted moan.

Pariston’s smile lit up again as he leaned his head on a hand watching you enjoy the cake. “I told you it was good,” he said before using the same spoon to scoop up the neck of the rabbit and slowly put it into his mouth. He made a noise of joy as well and you grasped your tea cup in both hands to allow the warmth to spread over your fingers again as you sipped the tea to help give you a moment to recover.

If it were possible for a human to melt in shame and thirst, you would have. On the spot. The tea couldn’t touch the thirst that was building inside of you, but you sipped it in hope anyway.

“Would it really be so bad?” he asked you as he took another dainty bite of cake, watching your reaction closely.

“Hm?” you asked setting your teacup down again.

He scooped another part of the rabbit and held it out for you to take once more. Dutifully you leaned forward and took it into your mouth. “If people thought we were dating?” he asked when your lips closed around the spoon.

You almost choked on the cake. He pulled the spoon from your mouth, resting it against his lips as he watched you sputter and cover your mouth. With an effort you managed to swallow the cake. “I-I suppose not,” you said wringing your shirt hem in your hands under the table.

Another laugh from across the table as Pariston lifted his cup once more. “Good. Then you won’t mind joining me tomorrow.”

You nodded taking your cup into your hand and sipping to clear the cake that had attempted to kill you from your throat.

Idly you did note, as the tea slid down your throat, that Pariston had been right.

The tea complimented the cake perfectly.

#how cute it's wholesome #pariston hill//#hunter x hunter//#request fic #i hope that you enjoy it asa!#also finally i got to include some literal tea

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chittaphonsicecream · 6 years ago

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glitter nights: a renjun fic

a/n: I need to write more :( this isn’t good and I’m so sorry! my junior year just started up and I’m incredibly busy and stressed.

synopsis: in which you and renjun are planning a dance and he really couldn’t have a bigger crush on you.

Really, Renjun wasn’t sure how he ended up on student council. He thought maybe it was his intelligence or his artistic skills, but it was most likely because Jeno and Jaemin were his best friends and two of the most popular boys in school. But there he was, at the first meeting, where you were clad in nice clothing and stood up to address the group of students and few teachers.

He knew you from around school. You were the one to watch. From difficult classes to clubs to sports, you did it all. You took charge wherever you went, and nobody questioned your authority. Despite your so-called bossiness, you were loved by the entire school, but the teachers had their issues with you. They, of course, did not appreciate being called out on their mistakes or errors. And you didn’t mind pointing them out.

Renjun was the slightest bit afraid of you. You were so comfortable with yourself and those around you that it nearly intimidated him. He was still a little shy and a bit more than awkward, and you were the exact opposite. He admired you though, but always from afar. He wanted to be like you, so hardworking, dedicated, persistent. And he also didn’t think you looked all that bad, but he’d never admit it.

And maybe he was meant to end up on student council after all. Maybe it was his chance to finally get to know you. And of course, as fate would have it, the student council advisor quickly divided the large group of students into pairs, and he found himself partnered up with you. The two of you were supposed to come up with the best possible theme for the formal dance in six weeks, and having never gone to a dance, Renjun was of no help.

You were quick to guide him though, and he latched onto your idea like a fish and bait. He quickly sketched ideas for how the dance could be set up and various areas that could be included in the dance, from a photobooth to a candy bar. Of course, in your flamboyance and extroversion, you wanted the sparkliest, flashiest dance possible. Your eyes lit up with so much excitement when you spoke of it that Renjun couldn’t help but agree. And you quickly discovered that most of the students in class felt the same way, as well. So the preparations for the glitteriest night to ever occur in the entire history of your school began.

You and Renjun were in charge, and found yourselves partners and equals, but he couldn’t help but feel inferior when next to you. You were everything he wasn’t.

“Those sketches look amazing, Jun!” you exclaimed one day. “I swear, if you keep this up, I might just fall in love.”

He knew that you were joking. It was in your nature. But the flirtatious tone of your voice made him more than uncomfortable. His thoughts raced at the idea of you liking him, and he couldn’t fathom someone like you being interested in someone like him. You, on the other hand, thought that he was your equal, your partner. And as you witnessed him distance himself from you, you were certain to reach out. There were only two more weeks until the dance, and he was more distant than ever. You knew he was shy and not one to express his true feelings, and he seemed to balance you out. While you were irrational, open, and sometimes ditzy, he was calm, composed, and aware. The two of you were like day and night, and his differences attracted you. It didn’t hurt that he was a good looking guy, as well. You didn’t want to admit it, but you had a slight crush on him, and his constant distancing himself from you only disappointed you more and more.

“The dance is coming up soon,” you said excitedly. “Who are you taking?”

“I, uh, don’t think I’m going to go,” he replied softly. “Dances aren’t my scene.”

“You literally helped me plan this whole thing. You’re going! Do you not have a date? Is that the problem?” you rapidly questioned. “You always do this. C’mon, just answer me. I don’t bite.”

Renjun awkwardly scratched his head and smiled at you. “I don’t have a date,” he said softly.

“Would you like to go with me?” you questioned.

Renjun’s cheeks flushed red as a small smile crossed his face. He quickly nodded. On the inside, your heart twisted and burst. He was sweet, too sweet even. And he was definitely smart, kind, and caring. You knew you liked him a lot, but you thought his disdain for you was pretty obvious. You often found yourself wondering if you were too much, too loud. And you hoped he didn’t look at you that way. You hoped he liked you for you.

You laughed with excitement before pulling him in for a hug. Both of your cheeks flushed red as you hugged him tightly, your hair tickling his nose.

And that was how Renjun ended up making what seemed like the biggest mistake of his life. Instead of keeping his mouth shut, he somehow was taking his crush to a dance that both him and his crush had planned and built from the ground up. To say he was nervous was an underestimation of the entire situation.

Having just received his drivers license, he pulled up to your house in his mom’s old car, a hand me down and a congratulations gift of sorts for finally learning to drive. You ran out of the house, too happy to finish getting ready. There Renjun stood, clad in a button down shirt and some slacks. Your outfit was equally as simple but just as elegant, if not more. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head at the sight of you, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Hey, let’s go,” he said as he grabbed your hand softly and led you to his car. When you were both seated, you found your hand moving of its own accord while he drove. It reached for his hand attached to the steering wheel and you laced your fingers with his. His heart sped up while he drove, and he desperately needed to be at the dance sooner than expected. He couldn’t handle another moment with only you in his car. He might do something irrational or even crash. And Renjun was not someone who was uncaredul.

When you arrived, the theater was sparkling. The theme truly was what you were imagining, just not as nearly as much as you originally thought they had planned for. Every table was covered in sequins and the disco ball glittered as light danced around the room. Your glitter night was a dream come true.

Renjun was incredibly awkward. With clammy hands and a pounding heart, he asked you to dance with him. The song was almost painfully slow, so you pulled him into you and rested your head on his chest while you swayed together.

It was dreamily comfortable and probably the calmest you had ever been. You felt his heart pound through his chest and detached an arm from around his neck to place your palm over his heartbeat. It sped up, and you looked up at him and smiled.

“Don’t be nervous,” you said reassuringly. “It’s just me.”

Renjun bit his lip. He didn’t want to say something he regretted, but the night was going swimminglg well already. Instead, he spoke the words that had been on his mind: “I know it’s just you. That’s why I’m nervous. I like you.”

You pulled yourself off of him and began to cough uncontrollably. His eyes widened with fear while you contained yourself.

“Maybe I should go home,” he said.

“I’m sorry!” you exclaimed. A million thoughts flitted through your head. It was just school. The two of you would be at separate colleges soon enough. But he was Renjun, and he was there, and he liked you. “I just... I like you, too, okay? And I kinda think you’re really dumb for liking me and it totally won’t work out because we’re going to graduate and never see each other again and you probably don’t even like me because I’m incredibly crazy and-”

Renjun pressed his lips to yours in a swift, chaste kiss. It was over as soon as it started, but you still felt your heart pounding insanely quickly in your chest.

“That’s one way to shut me up,” you said quietly.

“I like you, okay?” he replied softly. “And I don’t care if it all comes to an end, I like you. And I want to be with you.”

You burst into one more fit of laughter, and again he quieted you with a kiss. He pulled away and the reflection of sparkles danced across his face. Your thumb brushed his cheekbone and the two of you giggled.

“How’s this for your glitter night?” he asked.

“More than I could’ve ever imagined.”

#au #fan fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #fan fiction #kpop #scenario #nct #nct dream #renjun #huang renjun #high school #dance #imagine #nct renjun

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fairywine · 6 years ago

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Leitha

AO3 Link

“Between Neudörfl and Gattendorf, the Leitha River had formed the historic boundary between Austria and Hungary after 1048. The river become a symbol of the boundary so that the two halves of the dual monarchy were often referred to as Trans-Leithania (Hungary), and Cis-Leithania (Austria).” -Andrew Frank Burghardt, The Political Geography of Burgenland

“You won’t have to stay long. Just enough to be...seemly.”

Hungary turns her head from where she had been gazing out the gilt-framed window of the carriage. Outside the heart of Pest streams by, the buildings glowing with lights shining cheerfully in the night’s darkness. She lifts a steady brow at her prime minister, who to his credit meets it unflinchingly. But both she and Gyula Andrássy have been through enough to know there are far worse things to receive than a cool stare.

“I know what is needed of me, Count Andrássy.” Hungary rests gloved hands neatly in her lap, smooths out the finely embroidered half-apron that is part of her traditional court dress. A little over a year ago, and for centuries preceding it, the only aprons she usually wore had been plain white cotton, soft from frequent washings, a rag in one pocket and a knife in the other. A maid’s apron, suitable for a humble servant. Now look at her. “The Dual Monarchy need not fear any lapse in manners from the Kingdom of Hungary.”

Andrássy is too consummate a politician to let his feelings show, but Hungary knows what he’s thinking. That from the perspective of the western half of the empire it’s only a matter of time before the wild Magyars act out again.

“The compromise has managed to hold for a year,” Andrássy carefully says. “Tonight, we have passed out first great hurdle. What lies before us now is the importance of building upon what we’ve accomplished.”

Hungary can’t help but look outside again. It’s a balmy summer night in Pest, the streets thronged with people. Everywhere Hungary’s flag abounds, the peerlessly beautiful piros, fehér, zöld with her coat of arms center to declare its sovereignty to the world. Through the lavish shell of Andrássy’s carriage she can hear a lively csárdás being played on a violin, can see people dancing and children running around.

For all the festivities, the underlying emotion in the air is a tension pulled tight as piano wire. People are commemorating the first anniversary of Austria-Hungary more out of a sense of obligation than joy. Overall, even the brightest moods are shot through with an uneasy edge. By the standards of Magyar celebrations, June 8th, 1868 is a poor showing. As with so many things concerning her land, Hungary accepts this is the best anyone can do, given the circumstances.

“There’s no need for such reminders,” Hungary says. “Compared to what I’ve been through in the past, even this half-loaf of a union is like a happy dream. And once my authority is more fully settled, well…”

“Half-loaf?” Andrássy repeats.

“Better than none,” Hungary explains, earning a short but hearty laugh from the prime minister. “And already paying dividends. I can be polite and toast to the glory of the Osztrák-Magyar Monarchia if it means having what’s rightfully mine again.”

The carriage bumps a little on the last bit of road before they pass onto the awesome span of the Chain Bridge. The jostling is uncomfortable despite as well built a vehicle as Andrássy’s, more so when one is tightly corseted and layered up with what feels like a thousand starched petticoats. Hungary makes a mental note to remind her king that public works projects are a reliable way to build up local goodwill, specifically nice, smooth roads.

Andrássy inclines his dark head in agreement as they cross the Danube. “Especially once the matter of Croatia’s status is finalized. I have great hopes of the settlement we’ve arranged.”

“Which, God willing, shouldn’t be too much longer,” Hungary grouses, resting her head tiredly against the back of her seat. It makes the pins holding the elegant coiffure her hair has been braided stab into her scalp. But that’s mild compared to some of the headaches her southern Slavs have given her since the Compromise was made official. “Croatia demands so much from me he’s practically declared independence himself.”

“Horvát Királyság asks for all he can, knowing he will ultimately end up with much less,” Andrássy assures her. “You may stay confident knowing you ultimately hold the winning hand.”

The carriage leaves the Chain Bridge much more easily than it had entered, making the leftward turn on the road leading to the Royal Palace. Noticing Andrássy studying her, Hungary follows the path of his gaze to where it rests on her hands. Covered by her short-length evening gloves, the bulge of the ring on Hungary’s right hand is still unmistakable. A year’s time of wearing the band and she still feels the weight of it like an anchor.

“It is likewise encouraging that we’ve had no interference from,” a delicate pause, “Other quarters.”

Politicians will be politicians no matter what. Andrássy is exquisitely outfitted in his díszmagyar, mente coat draped over one shoulder, dolman shirt of fine silk and pants of rich velvet-a fairytale prince of medieval times. But his dark, intense eyes show he to be a thoroughly modern statesman beneath the pageantry. Under Andrássy’s süveg fur cap Hungary can practically see his mind roaring away, always examining every angle and choice. This happens often enough, the men who look and see a young maiden rather than the centuries old land she truly is, but it never stops being annoying. Or unwanted.

“My husband, you mean,” Hungary says directly. “No, Austria has been the very soul of reticence. I’ve barely seen him a handful of times since the wedding.”

Andrássy wants to probe more, it’s obvious. But how to do it while balancing his gentlemanly ideals-and to his adored Nation-seems to elude him. It’s just as well, as the carriage has finally completed its ascension up Castle Hill to pull into the main courtyard of the Royal Palace, its stately facade glowing brightly from within as well as the many light poles placed about the enclosure.

It takes only a moment for the guards to observe Andrássy’s coat of arms on his carriage door and ascertain they are not just in the presence of the prime minister but the Nation herself. Sweding, the vehicle’s door swings open to reveal a line of eight footmen on either side, at fullest attention for their most honored guests. Ever the Magyar gentleman, Andrássy helps Hungary out, an act she greatly appreciates considering the long train of her dress. A deep bow before holding his arm out for her to take, and Andrássy leads them both behind yet more footmen into the castle proper.

The Royal Palace has worn many faces since Hungary roamed the stone halls of the residence constructed by King Béla IV six hundred years ago as a young girl. (Who had been still firmly convinced she was a boy.)

It hadn’t lasted, but later kings had replaced the structure with newer palaces in the same location, following the artistic trends in vogue at the time of their respective reigns. King Sigismund had made it a Gothic masterpiece fit for the Holy Roman Emperor, Matthias Corvinus a Renaissance-influenced wonder for his Italian bride. All beautiful, in their own ways.

Then Mohács happened, and in the ensuing 158 year tug of war between Austria and Turkey over Hungary’s lands, the castle was destroyed down to practically nothing. Even the splendid Baroque building Maria Theresa had rise from the ruins had fallen to her ever-tragic luck. Like so much else, it had been a victim of Austria’s suppression of the 1848 rebellions. Yet restoration and reconstruction had their effect, the proud Neoclassical palace rather neatly mirroring Hungary’s own shift from servility to full autonomy and ruling half the empire.

Hungary can’t really say how she feels about it overall, not with the failures and sorrow of 1848 so fresh in her mind. At least it is preferable to ruination. Perhaps with time she can know her own heart on the subject, and maybe even grow to love it. The Royal Palace can’t help being what it is-it’s up to Hungary to make the most of things.

The hundreds of beeswax candles setting the interior aglow make the French Rococo-style glitter brilliantly. Between the crystals and lights and gold it feels like another world. A world whose reason for existing is to declare the power, wealth, and prestige of its owner. That said owner is ultimately her is a face Hungary still can’t fully wrap her head around. She has yet to abandon the natural reflex to look at such splendor and think of how much wax will be needed to make the mahogany wood gleam, how much soap and water to mop the marble, and plenty of rags for dusting every last blessed knickknack in the room.

“Are you ready?” Andrássy murmurs at a volume meant for Hungary’s ears alone. With a barely concealed jolt she realizes they’ve arrived at the main ballroom entrance, only moments to go before they’re announced. Not for the first time, the Nation is grateful for her prime minister’s natural attentiveness.

“Of course,” Hungary says, fixing a smile on her face that strikes an appropriate balance between brightness and dignity. Seeing little point in putting the moment off, Hungary gives a regal nod the pair of footmen waiting at attention. With a single smooth motion they swing open the gilt-laden double doors.

“Her Royal Apostolic Highless, the Lands of the Crown of Saint Stephen, the Kingdom of Hungary!”

There must be at least two hundred people in the ballroom, which is somehow even more intensely lit that the rest of the Royal Palace. Yet a worshipful silence falls upon them as one. Even the musicians falter for a moment in their playing of a Donizetti Quartetto before remembering themselves and returning to their instruments. Keenly aware of every eye, Hungary doesn’t let her calm smile slip.

“His Excellency the Right Honorable Count Gyula Andrássy de Csíkszentkirály et Krasznahorka!”

Hungary can easily see the entrance as the guests must. Andrássy, the very essence of the noble Magyar magnate. So darkly handsome with just a hint of danger in his smouldering gaze to contrast the opulence of his dress. Guiding in the Nation, so grand and beautiful in her court dress and veil, bearing a diamond and pearl tiara befitting her status as a royal land. The Kingdom of Hungary, having endured hundreds of years of humiliation and torment, finally being accorded the rank deserved to her by the will of God Himself. She can practically envision the tableau being painted, complete with title. Hungaria Being Guided By The Saving Hand Of Her Greatest Patriot.

Italics and all.

It’s not like Hungary doesn’t understand. To have their beloved Nation standing before them, clad in finery and commanding the respect, however willingly given, due to a Great Power...it’s a dream of centuries fulfilled. Falling short of the long prayed for independence, but at least a start in righting so many wrongs.

While the room is overflowing with the crème de la crème of Buda and Pest society-and thus anyone who’s anyone in Hungary-most have never seen their Nation with their own eyes. A concept of statehood made flesh and blood always takes adjusting to. But for those who have met Hungary, who have been by her during times far removed from the elegant gentility of the ballroom, it’s a tiring reaction. Mόr Perczel, only recently back from exile, had seen her bloodied and half-dead at the Battle of Temesvár. Given Hungary moonshine from his flask to dull the pain of the bullets being removed from her skin. Yet like all the others, revolution veterans and aristocrats alike, he looks upon her as if she’s some sort of goddess. Flawless. Divine.

It makes Hungary think of Austria, strangely. For all her husband’s myriad flaws (ones she’s accumulated quite the list of over centuries of living in his house), he’s at least never put her on a ridiculous pedestal. Certainly he’d have no sort of discomfit with this kind of pomp and importance. It does amuse Hungary to think of him up in Vienna for his own celebrations, having to take congratulations for a successful diminishing of his own power with lordly grace. How each anniversary felicitation must sting at proud, pretty Ausztria!

Hungary’s inner mirth proves fortifying to her spirits, and she is able to get through what seems like an endless stream of well-wishers without feeling miserable. And she does truly enjoy being among her people, especially those who so dearly love her. Ferenc Deák greets Hungary as gently as she was his own daughter. Mihály Zichy declares his desire to paint her, and her eyes can’t help but dance at his cheek. Even Franz Liszt makes a valiant effort at conversing in the Magyar tongue before giving up and switching to German.

Hungary does not mind this part of public engagements, but it is tiring. Helping herself to a glass of wonderful white wine from Neszemély off a passing waiter’s tray helps revive her. But there is still a rather glaring absence, one Hungary had hoped would be resolved by now.

“Her Royal Majesty has yet to make an appearance?” Hungary asks Deák quietly, taking advantage of the rare solitude they share.

“I understand she is to be expected in short order,” Deák says with a dignified shrug. “Of course, that is always what is said at events like as this.”

“Worry not, my dear friend,” Hungary says, an idea striking her. “Such instances are when those of my ilk prove most valuable.”

“Is that so?” Deák looks Hungary over skeptically, knowing well what her face looks like when she’s about to push propriety.

“I insist,” Hungary says, passing her empty glass off to yet another waiter. “It is nothing less than attending to my duties as a partner of the Dual Monarchy.”

Deák doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t stop Hungary’s discreet exit out of the ballroom either. After all, there are few who better know the relationship of country and monarch as he. In this, Hungary’s judgment should be deferred to.

To some it might be surprising to have so few people around in such a large palace. Only those privileged enough to be frequent guests of the royal private apartments know that is the resident’s particular preference. When Hungary makes her way into the suit, she only sees two ladies-in-waiting in attendance. Just past them is the queen’s personal hairdresser Franziska Feifalik, tools of her trade held in white-gloved hands. Upon Hungary’s entrance all rise before falling into graceful curtsies.

“Kingdom of Hungary,” Franziska says in German, being one of the queen’s few servants who doesn’t speak Hungarian. “How may I be of service?”

“All I think I need is to follow you,” Hungary says lightly.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t even need to do that much, your Royal Highness,” Franziska smiles. “It is no great mystery.”

Franziska indeed guides Hungary through the royal quarters into the exact room she guessed she would end up. While it is as fantastically ornate as every other room in the palace, there are enough personal touches to give it a gentler, more inviting air. It’s a dream of nursery, eminently suitable for a tiny princess.

The most beautiful woman in the world is inside it.

Upon seeing Hungary, her impossibly perfect face relaxes into a smile so lovely the Nation momentarily loses the ability to remember what words are. Or how one puts them together coherently. Thankfully her reflexes remain, and Hungary dips into a deep curtsey before the Empress of Austria and her own Queen.

“Ah, my dearest Hungary,” Elisabeth says softly in her flawless Hungarian, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “As always, it is so good to see you.”

“Indeed, Sisi,” Hungary says with equal quietness, glad to dispense with the needed demonstration of formality. The queen is one of her truest and deepest friends. The adoration of the Magyar people for the “Beautiful Providence” of the land is so strong it can overwhelm Hungary as a person. But she truly treasures the intimacy, and knows Elisabeth does too. As one they lean over the cradle where the Archduchess Marie Valerie sleeps as soundly as any other infant.

“I know I should have made my appearance already,” Elisabeth says, brushing the faintest touch across her daughter’s forehead. “One look at her sweet face and I couldn’t break away for anything.”

“I wouldn’t either from such an angel,” Hungary agrees. Elisabeth has endured so much loneliness, misery, and deep loss, the kind that transformed Franz Joseph’s naive Wittelsbach bride into the brilliant, distant diamond of a women she is today. For now at least, her face glows with a rare joy that makes her already incredible beauty almost impossible to withstand. Hungary can only pray that it lasts, for the strong woman who has proven to be the great salvation of the Hungarians.

“I can already see so much of Franzi in her face,” Elisabeth says, and even Hungary couldn’t really discern the true emotion in her tone.

“I’ll have to think on that next time I see his Imperial and Royal Majesty,” Hungary offers neutrally. “I’m due for a meeting in Vienna next week.”

“How stalwart you are, dear Hungary. To bear the burden of dealing with both your husband and mine at the same time.” With one last caress of her daughter’s downy hair, Elisabeth sits down in a nearby chair. A tall woman, this makes it much easier for Franziska to do some final touch-ups on her famously long, lustrous, chestnut-brown hair. As usual it is pulled up in elaborate, heavy braids, through with the adept hairdresser has wound several pearls. Examining the queen with an artist’s critical eyes, Franziska sets about making the tiny changes necessary to take the style from merely beautiful to sublime.

“I hope things have been...acceptable, with Austria,” Elisabeth adds, dark eyes looking compassionately at Hungary. The Nation is well aware how familiar her queen is with unhappiness in a marriage. It is just one of the many sorrows Sisi has been plagued with since joining the House of Habsburg.

“I got everything I hoped for out of my first wedding anniversary,” Hungary says honestly. “I still have my status, attended to my people, and spent time with you, my Queen.”

“I suppose that is enough,” Elisabeth replies. Of course she understands.

“Austria probably still hasn’t recovering from having to bend his will a fraction. If he has brought out poetry and flowers I might have fallen over with shock,” Hungary says, smiling a little to ease her dear friend.

There had been times in the past where Austria has been kind. Even sweet and tender. Counting off sheep to his maid and wards so they could sleep. The times when he would listen to Hungary sing as she worked, trying not to make obvious he was listening and liked it. Helping bandage up the wounds she had received kicking Prussia out during the War of Austrian Succession. Making such grand promises under Maria Theresa’s reign, ones that moved her heart as easily as a green girl’s.

If only Hungary could have married him a century ago. She had such hope then, such wonderful dreams. Had been ready to let ‘Austria, sir’ all the way into her heart. If only he had kept his promises, instead of letting the problems of his empire fester as he bound Hungary tighter.

Which leads them to here and now. A thousand years, and she and Austria can’t even talk to each other without a government mandate involved. It wasn’t what Hungary would have ever hoped for. But like so much else, it’s what she’s got.

Elisabeth rises, hair ministrations complete, and Hungary links arms with her.

“Now let me show my dedication and loyalty by escorting my exquisite queen to her most adoring citizens,” Hungary says grandly. It will be enjoyable, and a welcome respite of the impossible boil of emotions thinking of Austria always puts her into.

Hopefully.

By the time Hungary makes it back to the home she has in western Buda, her head rings a little with the weight of her hair, and much more with too much wine imbibed and unavoidable tobacco smoke breathed in. She barely remembers to wave Andrássy’s carriage off before her butler lets her in. He, her maids, and the house itself had all been wedding gifts, befitting the grandness of a full partner in a Great Power. More likely because the whole of Austria would probably die of mortification to have their Nation married to someone living in a tidy but small country house in outer Pest who dressed and cleaned for herself.

Still, Hungary’s grateful for it in this instance. Her every need is immediately seen to: butler taking her thin silk shawl, one maid escorting Hungary up to her bedroom to help her undress while another brings up a tray with an steaming cup of coffee and some crackers. Hungary downs it as her maid carefully removes her expensive jewelry to be safely locked away. The beverage does take the edge off her headache, at least.

“I hope the celebrations went well, your Highness,” the maid says cheerfully, setting the end of Hungary’s train to the part of her dress where she fastens it up and out of the way. It makes it less likely to be stepped on during her tasks, as well as easier for Hungary to sit during them. Doing so, the Nation looks into her dressing room mirror. Still beautifully clad, a perfect Magyar princess. But what is she now, anyway? Not a stranger to herself, but not holding all the answers either.

“Yes, very,” Hungary responds, realizing she let the question hang for far too long. Lost in her work, the girl just hums in response. Carefully she removes pin after pin from Hungary’s hair, leaving it to tumble down to waist in a mass of cinnamon-hued waves. The style the humble Habsburg maid had worn, but combined with the finest court dress available in all the Lands of the Crown of Saint Stephen. Suddenly, Hungary can barely breathe, the edges of her vision going black.

“I’m going outside for some air,” Hungary says abruptly, rushing to stand. Startled, her lady’s maid only has time for a squeak before the Nation flees the dressing room. Dashing down the stairs, she shoves the front door open to head into the gentle night. Chest heaving, Hungary looks around, takes in the quest of Buda in the late hour. Only faint noises from the occasional passing carriage disrupt the silence.

Instinct wins. Hungary runs. Runs in the way of Nations, beings who are people and state but also the earth. Who can shrink leagues down to nothing, who can cross their territories in minutes and continents in a hour. There is nothing in her mind but flight, heading west. Esztergom, Tatabánya, Komárno, Győr, all blur before Hungary’s eyes before disappearing just as quickly. The mindless panic starts to lessen around Sopron, and by the time she reaches the woods of Királyhida, the Nation has slowed to a normal walking pace.

Immediately, the pain of running so hard in a corset makes itself known, even if Hungary doesn’t lace herself as obsessively tight as her queen. Somewhere along the way her dainty dancing slippers fell off, leaving her stockings torn and feet bleeding from several cuts. With a groan, Hungary tears the useless hose off and tosses them aside along with her garter ribbons. Then a couple of petticoats for good measure, since if she’s going to look a fright it may as well be a comfortable one.

Hungary pats down her hair in what is probably a futile effort, and ruefully surveys her gown. Grass and mud stains dot the hem, and on her left there’s a rip about as long as her palm. Hungary isn’t really worried-her staff is clever and skilled enough to repair the damage-just annoyed she couldn’t at least have kept things together long enough to change into a less expensive and delicate dressing gown. She sighs, feeling the weight of everything on her shoulder get just a little bit heavier.

Hungary should return to Buda, but...it’s so nice out, so peaceful. Just sitting down for a moment and letting her aching body recover sounds heavenly. In the distance, she can hear the sound of running water. Hungary knows it well, has known it nearly her entire existence. It is but a short walk through the dark woods to reach the river.

The Leitha streams by as it has for millennia, shimmering like fine blue silk under the fat waxing moon. It’s been a dry year, the water much lower from the banks than it usually is, but even that doesn’t diminish the sight. There’s an outcropping of nice, flat rocks right at the edge of the waters. Hungary imagines children jumping off them on hot summer days, fishermen resting while patiently waiting for their lines to tug. It makes her smile a little, and after carefully gathering her dress up and sitting down she takes inspiration from the Királyhida locals and dips in her feet.

Nothing can describe how refreshing and cool the Leitha waters feel against Hungary’s sore feet and calves. Away from the frenzy of her daily life, with the peaceful woods around her and the simple pleasure of a river-soak, the Nation closes her eyes and lets the tension of the anniversary drain away.

A rustle snaps Hungary out of her comfortable reverie. Not loud, but standing out amidst the ambient noises of nature. The night has been such she’s tempted to dismiss what she sees, but no. There is Austria on the western bank of the Leitha, every bit the impeccable Imperial aristocrat in his gala uniform. Collar starched, whites crisp, medals polished to a gleam only his evening shoes match in sheer shininess. It makes her feel the total disarray she’s in all the more keenly.

“Austria, sir-” Hungary stops herself forcefully, pressing her lips together. She’s not a maid anymore, dammit. The last thing she should be doing is stammering at her husband like scullery wench caught above stairs, regardless of how messy she looks. She’s Austria’s equal now, and will act it.

“Good evening, Austria,” Hungary tries again, calm and polite. “I hope your anniversary festivities were enjoyable.”

This looks like about the last reaction her spouse expects, but he rallies near instantly.

“Very much indeed, thank you,” Austria answers, nothing in his voice indicating his personal feelings on the matter. He may as well have mentioned the weather for all the emotion he’s displayed. Violet eyes flick up and down, examining her with glowing alarm. “Are you in need of assistance?”

No withering comment on Hungary’s less than perfect appearance? Pre-marriage Austria (pre-this specific marriage, she mentally amends) would have never let that slide. Dishevelment had always indicated serious character flaws in his ordered world.

“I’m fine.” Hungary draws her knees up to her chest, and though Austria looks politely away he definitely takes a moment to do so.

“You were throwing your,” Austria pauses. Some aspects of Nationhood are beyond the ability of any language to capture, even for Nations themselves. “Your land-authority about with great abandon. When I felt you heading in the direction of the border I thought you were under attack.”

“Attack?” Hungary echoes, looking down at herself, then adjusting to what it must look like from her husband’s perspective. Suddenly his reaction made much more sense.

“I could not imagine you would come so near my half of the empire otherwise.”

“...it was just...something I needed to do,” Hungary says, really not wishing to explain her actions in great detail. She winces slightly as her still raw soles rub painfully on the stone. The cuts she had gotten must be deeper than she thought. For a Nation it’ll be no time at all to heal, but none of them are immune to pain. “I’ll be off in a bit. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

“You are my wife. It would be remiss of me not to be concerned,” Austria says. His tone is still even, but Hungary recognizes the look on his face. Austria is worked up about the situation. And a worked up Austria can be very, very unpredictable.

Sure enough, Hungary proves to be correct. Austria pulls off his gloves, tucking them neatly into his belt. Despite his stiff uniform he manages to kneel down and start unlacing his shoes with great speed.

“What are you doing?!” Hungary yelps, jaw actually dropping when Austria pulls off his shoes and socks.

“Merely being sensible,” Austria says, holding the articles in the crook of his arm. “Even on a warm night leather would take a while drying out, to say nothing of the condition it would be left in. And walking in wet socks is simply unpleasant.”

Beyond astonished, Hungary can only watch with eyes that must be saucer huge. Austria-fastidious, immaculate Austria-strolls into the Leitha with as much nonchalance as if he were walking along the Ringstraße. They’re at one of the shallower points of the river, the dry year lowering the level even more, but Austria still ends up soaked up to his knees. Hungary can’t help it and lightly slaps her cheek. The very real twinge of pain proves this isn’t some hallucination brought on by oxygen loss via running in a tight corset. Even then she can barely believe its real.

Austria emerges from the river and sets foot on the eastern bank-Hungary’s side of the Leitha. Setting his things down on another rock, her husband motions her over silently as he kneels.

“Your foot, if you please,” Austria says in response to her blank look. “One at a time.”

“They’re wet,” Hungary says in feeble protest, but lifts her left leg up anyway. Right now it at least means Austria isn’t looking at her face, gone crimson with the force of her blushing.

Almighty God, what a fool Hungary is. Having complicated feelings about Austria, a Gordian-knot like tangle of emotions and memories both good and bad, is one thing. Her most powerful neighbor, one she shares a direct border with. Naturally their fates would always be linked, one way or another.

But for all the past they share, the injuries and indignities Hungary has endured because of Austria...she never learns. One gentlemanly act, one of those rare moments where he lets the iron-clad armor of his rank and power relax, and the anger starts slipping away. And a great kingdom, a warrior who had been so fearsome people had prayed to God to be spare from her arrows, is reduced to a maiden with chest fluttering and head filled with rosy, hopeful dreams.

How many times had Austria made his promises, only to forget them at best or break them at worst? And how many times had Hungary fallen for it? The only thing that is different now is Austria hasn’t found a way to wiggle out of his obligations. At least, not so far.

It’s cool reasoning. Hungary only wishes her racing heart wouldunderstand what her mind does. Staring at the top of Austria’s dark head, bent over while long pianist’s fingers handle her with such care, makes any sort of progress on this front impossible. His right hand grips her calf to hold it steady, wedding band cool on her hot skin, and Hungary’s embarrassment multiplies tenfold. Which is beyond ridiculous, given Austria has, to put it politely, definitely had his hands on more than a bare leg in the past. At least during the times things were good between them.

“It seems your cuts are not very deep,” Austria says, mercifully unaware of Hungary’s line of thought. “Clean as well.”

“I’d have never guessed from how you were fussing,” Hungary says as Austria checks her other foot. She’s not eager to get back home home on them, but she’s definitely been able to ignore worse under harder conditions. “Marriage hasn’t made me soft yet.”

“Oh, I do pray not,” Austria murmurs. His face is hard to see from the angle she’s at, but Hungary is positive she catches a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “It is a great shame, but unlike your other enemies I do not think you will be able to take your frying pan and pound your feet into submission.”

Hungary’s eyes narrow to green slits, but Austria pays her dangerous expression no mind. Taking out a handkerchief from his pocket, Austria unfolds it all the way before gripping it firmly at the middlemost portion of the top. It’s a beautiful piece of snowy linen, elegantly embroidered with a scarlet Ö monogram, and when her husband rips it neatly in half Hungary can’t help her cry of dismay.

“It is merely a handkerchief,” Austria says, looking surprised. Which means his eyes lift a fraction of a second before falling into their usual place of stately calm. Carefully he winds a strip of linen around Hungary’s left then right foot, after which he examines the results critically. “Fortunately you have small feet and it was just enough fabric, or this might have not worked out so well.”

Hungary stares down at her bound feet, which do feel better for the impromptu bandages. The Ö stands out like a brand, but can she even argue it doesn’t have some justification? If Hungary was able to be truly independent and stand on her own without Austria in the picture, she would have done so successfully by now. Instead here she is, lost by the river and having to be bailed out by her husband again. To Hungary’s horror, her eyes start to well up. Not here, not in front of him.

“Thank you for your h-help,” Hungary says, and oh God her voice chokes up. Austria starts, and there are very few things Hungary wouldn’t give right now to just throw herself in the Leitha and never come out again. “I-it was very...very…”

The one time Austria actually looks flustered and Hungary can’t even savor it. His mouth opens and shuts several times as she fails to get herself under control. Austria stands, and for a second Hungary thinks he’s about to leave her to her mortification. Then he sits next to her on the rock, as gingerly if she’s a stack of dynamite and he’s a lit match. Then Austria slips a hand underneath the flap of his bright white Field Marshal dress jacket and pulls out a silver flask to hold to Hungary silently.

On an evening less filled with strangeness Hungary would have been utterly dumbfounded. But their one year anniversary has decidedly not fit into that category, and so she wipes hard at her eyes before grabbing the flask. The Marillenschnaps Is very good, richly scented with the aroma of ripe apricots, sliding smoothly down the throat even as it lights a fire in the blood. So good in fact, Hungary Decides to compliment it by taking another swig, and then a third. She passes it back to Austria, who polishes off the rest of it.

“I didn't want to marry you and you didn't want to marry me,” Hungary says. There is no rancor to be heard in her words, and she feels none. It's a truth, plain and simple. If anything it's a relief to not to keep it locked away, when the two of them know better. She stares at the Leitha foggily, the schnapps being quite a bit stronger than she had credited. Hungary only wishes Austria had a second flask secreted somewhere on his Imperial person.

“An accurate summation,” Austria agrees, looking for a second something like melancholy. He gives his head a quick toss, evidently also feeling the effects of the apricot spirits. “Which brings us to the question at the heart of the matter. Where do you want to go from here?”

“I don't know,” Hungary says honestly. “And even if I did, it would only make a difference if it complimented what you want.”

One hundred years ago. If only they could have worked out the Compromise then. Hungary would have run into Austria's arms as joyfully as any bride, Maria Teresa smiling down at them both as the benevolent mother-Queen. It might not have been all she wanted, but still plenty enough.

“Just think of one thing, of the here and now. If you can,” Austria says, almost as if he needs her to do it for them both. To voice what he could never bring himself to.

“ I'd like... I'd like to be able to talk with you like this again. without needing alcohol, or me losing my slippers and looking like I crashed right into a bush,” Hungary answers slowly. She thinks of Franz Joseph and Elisabeth, how the love once there withered without understanding and balance to make it flourish. Thinks of her beautiful queen, who has suffered such misery, and the emperor in his loneliness. Too far apart now to ever reconnect on a marital level.

Hungry doesn't know if she could let herself love Austria with the whole of her wild heart. But she doesn't want to live a life of coldness, tied to a distant stranger who she used to know. Truly falling is too much to dream of now. What isn't then?

“Can we try being a better husband and wife?”

Austria looks at her, face unguarded for once.

“Neither of us is naive enough to hope for... for human things, a human marriage,” Hungary elaborates. This is what things have come to for them, the Magyar warrior who isn't brave enough to say ‘love’. “But I can try to be a good partner to you. If you're a good partner to me.”

Austria absorbs this silently, removing his glasses. His hand drifts towards his pocket before he evidently recalls his handkerchief is currently on his wife's person. He settles instead for wiping the lenses on his jacket before returning them to the bridge of his nose.

“Then we will both make the effort, and…” Austria thinks. “Here at the Leitha, a year from now. We will meet and decide what step to take next.”

It's not the world, but they're much too wizened by this point to make the lofty promises of starry-eyed romantics. This plan, however, is believable. Sensible. Not much to lose, but potentially much to gain. Hungary nods in approval, holding her arm out as boldly as any man. Austria hesitates for a moment, but reaches out to clasp her hand in his. Husband and wife shake on their plan, and to hope.

“Happy anniversary,” Hungary says, and if her smile is small it is also genuine. Her brow knits slightly as she looks up at the sky, trying to judge the time.” I think it's till the day.”

“For another four minutes and...sixteen seconds more,”Austria confirms, checking his pocket watch.

“I suppose I owe you an anniversary gift,” Hungary muses, wiggling her feet in their former-handkerchief bound glory. “Not that I have anything much on me at the moment.”

“Perhaps a kiss, then?”

Hungary turns to Austria in a flash, but a single glance reveals her husband to be in total seriousness. Well, whatever his angle, the least she can do is match it.

“One. And I pick where.”

“To be renegotiated in a year's time,” Austria counters. Hungary thinks it over before nodding her assent to his terms.

“My right hand, for however long is left in the day.”

“A minute and forty-nine seconds,” Austria murmurs, snapping the light of his pocket watch shut. “If you are ready?”

Hungary holds out her hand, still gloved in fine, thin, white kid leather. Austria takes it, long, nimble fingers dancing over her palm Like he wanted to memorize the feel of it. To her surprise, Austria doesn't merely take his kiss and be done with it. Instead, he glides slightly past her wrist, to the small line of pearls buttoning it up tightly.

“Austria,” Hungary starts, blush swiftly reviving. Her husband merely hums, undoing one button at a time with no sense of haste. “You only have-”

“ I know the time. Any good musician has an innate sense of its flow,” Austria says, with a calm that's nearly infuriating compared to the little sparks Hungary feels when his bare fingers brush against the tender skin of her inner arm. “I assure you, I will keep to our terms.”

Hungary wants to point out she should have had the sense to define said terms much more stringently. But the retort refuses to form as Austria slowly loosens the glove’s fingers one by one, sliding it off with what feels like infinite slowness.

Now that Hungary's hand is bare to the world-bare but for her wedding ring- Austria takes it in his own. It's a hand that still holds the history of Hungary's previous station: sword calluses, rein-marks, dry spots from doing the laundry in huge boiling copper pots. He grips her hand reverently, lifting it gently to his mouth.

Hungary shivers as she feels the air of the tiny sigh Austria lets out. Then he finally presses soft lips to her hand, and lightning runs straight up and down her spine. Damn him for playing so unfairly, and her for so easily giving into it!

Austria slowly separates from her hand, still letting it rest in his. Their eyes lock, and for a single, crystalline-fragile moment there is no one else in the world but the two of them.

“I think you must have gone over your time,” Hungary says, barely recognizing her voice for how breathy it's become.

“Actually, I had five more seconds,” Austria tells her after taking a look at his watch. Not his voice has gotten somewhat breathy too and dropped noticeably goes a long way to making Hungary feel better about her own reaction. “And now, midnight.”

Much like Cinderella, the magic ends at the stroke of midnight. Austria and Hungary look at each other ruefully, a tacit acknowledgement that their time in the woods is over. For now.

Hungary makes a point to slip her own glove back on, but allows Austria to rebutton it simply because it's hard to do on her own. Despite the quiet intimacy having passed, her body feels lighter than it has in a long, long time. her feet don't hurt nearly as badly as before, which helps.

“Would you care to be escorted back to Buda?” Austria asks courteously, face showing he already knows what the answer will be.

“No, I'll take myself home,” Hungary says before adding, “This time.”

However this ends up working out, Hungary doesn't think she'll ever forget the look of delighted joy that flashes over Austria's face before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“Then farewell,” Austria says, with a bow so elegant it would make any courtier burst into tears of joyful appreciation.

“Until next we meet,” Hungary responds and curtsies in return, quite nicely considering the mess of her appearance.

Good-byes exchanged, Austria turns to the west. Hungary turns to the east. the temptation to glance backwards one more time reigns, but neither knows if the other gives in to it. Another moment passes, and then the bank by the river is empty as if no one had ever been there at all. The Leitha flows on as it always has, patiently keeping its place of sanctuary safe until a year's time has passed once more.

Me: AusHun Week! So great! I can’t wait to write some stuff for one of my favorite ships ever! Me: *writes a bittersweet character study of Hungarian history in which Austria doesn’t even appear till the last third, twice* Me: I’m so good at this. :) :) :)

Anyway, as much as AusHun is a hardcore Ship of Ships for me and I love Cute Domestic Old Marrieds AusHun, to say their relationship has had its ups and downs would be a considerable understatement. And the circumstances leading to the Compromise of 1867 definitely stemmed from one of the worse lows of Austro-Hungarian relations. To say Austria came down on the Hungarian rebels during the Hungarian War of Independence in 1848 like a ton of bricks would be unkind to the bricks. Hungary was this close to breaking free, enough that if Austria hadn’t managed to get reinforcements from Russia to tag in she would have done it. And then he executed the rebel generals, put out death warrants for those who managed to escape like Andrássy and Kossuth, and stripped Hungary of her ancient rights and constitution to rule her under brutal martial law.

And thus things might have bopped merrily along for Austria except for a little one-two whammy called the Austro-Prussian War and the Second Italian War of Independence. His empire being on the verge of total collapse as well as shut out from the German Confederation Prussia had unified put Austria in a conciliatory sort of mood, for some reason, and negotiations with the Magyars were opened. Hungary, for her part saw an opportunity with a limited window of time in Austria’s weak position. Still remembering how easily her army had been routed by Russia’s, and recognizing if she didn’t make a move the one or more of the many Slav groups in the Kingdom of Hungary would move to deal with the Austrians instead, was also open to a settlement.

That anything would have even been agreed was far from a given. Though Emperor Franz Joseph recognized an agreement with Hungary was needed to keep the Austrian Empire from absolutely splintering, he was and always would be a hardcore autocrat who viewed giving up even a fraction of his authority as blasphemy against his divine office. The vast majority of (the Magyar part of) Hungary wanted nothing less than full independence, and had very fresh memories of the 1848 rebellions as well as a strong hatred for Austria. (The Slav parts of Hungary, as well as the Romanian parts, were shit out of luck and stuck in a state that argued for freedom and self-determination...if you were a Magyar, and keep dreaming for that autonomy otherwise. Except don’t, because it’s not going to happen. Now go and practice Hungarian some more!

(As for Croatia (or Horvát Királyság/Kingdom of Croatia as Andrássy calls him here) was the only minority group in the Kingdom of Hungary who did have something of a protected, autonomous status, being that Croatia actually entered a personal union with Hungary in 1102 instead of being conquered. After the Austro-Hungarian Compromise was passed, a separate Compromise was arranged between Hungary and Croatia, resulting the creation of the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia. Which was liked in Croatia even less than the Austro-Hungarian Compromise was in Hungary.)

But fortunately for Hungary, she had two absolutely brilliant and indispensable statesmen, Ferenc Deák and Gyula Andrássy, who were both pragmatists who felt a sustained autonomous Hungarian state would only be possible as long as defense and foreign affairs were shared with Austria. Even more fortunately, Hungary had a vital advocate in Empress Elisabeth of Austria, who had fallen in love with the land of Hungary and the Magyar culture and was relentless in seeing Hungary’s cause advanced to her husband Franz Joseph. And thus the Austro-Hungarian Compromise was reached, signed by Deák and Andrássy and ratified by the restored Hungarian Diet on May 29th, 1867, and officially capped off with the crowning of Franz Joseph and Elisabeth as King and Queen of Hungary on June 8th, 1867.

Even though the deal was done, tensions were still high and remained that way for a long time. Ask anyone familiar with Austro-Hungarian history who the Compromise was a better deal for (or if it was a good deal period, and if it just fueled the problems that utterly crumbled Austria-Hungary in WW1 or if those problems would have just happened anyway) and you’ll get a different answer every time. I wasn’t able to find what specifically was done to celebrate the first anniversary of the Compromise, but presumably the occasion was marked so yay for artistic license.

Piros, fehér, zöld is the red, white, green of the Hungarian tricolor. The stripes were made horizontal to avoid being confused with the Italian flag. The Dual-Monarchy era flag also had the Hungarian coat-of-arms right in the center.

Technically speaking, Buda Castle was just known as the Royal Place for most of its history, including during the Dual Monarchy.

Díszmagyar is the traditional Hungarian court dress, and very beautiful. The dress Hungary is wearing here is this one, originally worn by the Countess György Majláth to the original coronation of Franz Joseph in 1867. Hey, the Nation deserves the most swag dress at her anniversary party, after all.

I think most Hungary fans know about the Battle of Mohács in 1526 against the Ottoman Empire, but it absolutely can’t be stated enough how utterly devastating it was for the Kingdom of Hungary. In a single day the kingdom was torn into three, the king was dead, much of the nobility had been killed as well as the at least 14,000 soldiers who also died in combat, and the entire country was basically free for the taking-which the Ottomans and Habsburgs did. It would take nearly four hundred years for Hungary to become fully independent again. The only thing remotely comparable in Hungarian history was the Treaty of Trianon after its loss in World War I, which saw Hungary stripped of two-thirds of lands it had possessed for centuries, and is still a very sore point for Hungarians today.

I went back and forth on how the Kingdom of Hungary should be addressed in a formal situation, the people who think of these things having never thought how the Nation itself would need to be called. I settled on “Highness” as an appropriate title for an immediate member of the royal family-though really wouldn’t the royal family be members of Hungary? “Apostolic” in the title is specific to the Kingdom of Hungary alone. I did my best? I’m also not sure if Andrássy’s address is accurate either, considering he was both the prime minister and a count, but this was my best approximation.

“The Lands of the Crown of Saint Stephen” was the official title of the Hungarian half of Austria-Hungary.

Mihály Zichy was a Hungarian painter who did do more traditional portraiture, but is probably better known for his considerably more naughty drawings. (Which I actually find quite wonderful). Just be aware if you decided to google them with SafeSearch off.

Franz Liszt was born in a German speaking part of Hungary and was never able to speak the language (though he tried to learn), but very much thought of himself as a Magyar and a Hungarian patriot.

Elisabeth of Austria was the Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary. And she really was the most beautiful woman in the world. Just look at her! Unfortunately, the minute she met her cousin (oh, royalty)/the Emperor of Austria Franz Joseph in 1853 (at a meeting that was supposed to cement an engagement between him and her sister Helene), and he decided he only wanted to marry Elisabeth, her life was set upon a course of stifling misery and eventual tragedy. Sisi as she was known (and NOT SISSI, which she never referred to herself by), had grown up in a very relaxed, informal household under her father the Duke Maximilian Joseph in Bavaria. (Seriously, take some time to read about it, it’s pretty wild). A shy, naive, fifteen year old country duchess from Bavaria was thrust into role of Empress of Austria in a little over eight months.

It went about as well as one would expect. Sisi was utterly isolated at the Austrian court, not comfortable around crowds and formal situations, and in general treated as an child unfit for her role. This was compounded by her mother-in-law/aunt, the Archduchess Sophie, who never hid her opinion of Elisabeth as anything more than a vessel to produce heirs and acted as Empress in official functions as well as politically more than the actual Empress. Even more unfortunately, for all Franz Joseph loved Elisabeth (and did for the rest his life, long after any chance of mutual romance was dead), he never understood her, her needs, or that he should make any sort of compromises on his end to make their relationship work. Franz Joseph was always quick to defer to his mother over his wife, including the part where Sophie essentially took Elisabeth’s first three children away from her and raised them herself. As you can guess, this not only made things worse, but engineered a huge disconnect between Elisabeth and most of her children that would have severe consequences later.

After the Crown Prince Rudolf was born, leaving Elisabeth free of the responsibility to produce any more heirs, the older, wiser, and more cynical Empress had by this point acquired the fortitude and political capital to do as she pleased. Restless by nature, she traveled constantly and avoided Vienna and her husband at all costs. The only thing that brought her back was the cause of Hungary. She had fallen for the wilder, romantic country, one very much in tune with the sensitive and dreamy Elisabeth compared to rigid, traditional Austria. Recognizing they’d have a powerful advocate in Elisabeth, who at this point was at the peak of her beauty and enormously popular in Hungary, Deák and Andrássy in particular (who she become close with to the point they were rumored to be lovers, though nothing has ever been proven) reached out to her. Acting as an intermediary between Austria and Hungary, Elisabeth was absolutely essential to making the Compromise happen and seem a legitimate deal for Hungary even in its unpopularity.

Part of this assistance was agreeing to have another child. Elisabeth quickly became pregnant after the Compromise was passed, and more significantly chose to give birth to her child at Buda Castle. It was the first time a royal child had been born in Hungary in centuries, and the notion was seriously raised that had it been a boy the child could have become king of an independent Hungary, separating it from Austria. As a girl was born, the Archduchess Marie Valerie, it was a non-issue. (Ironically, Marie Valerie, who was born in Hungary, baptised in Buda, and only allowed to speak Hungarian to her mother, grew to have a severe apathy for Hungary in part because of the persistent rumor that Andrássy was her real father. Even as she grew up to strongly resemble Franz Joseph and the rumor died, the apathy lasted. But they’ve still kept the bridge with her name on it between Hungary and Slovakia, which I guess is nice?)

If you somehow couldn’t tell Sisi is one of my two favorite historical figures, by the way...well yeah, she is. (The other is Valdemar Atterdag, for the curious).

Királyhida is the now-Austrian town of Bruckneudorf, but in the Dual Monarchy days was in a German-speaking region of western Hungary. Regardless of the local language preferences, the town was required to have Magyar name.

@emperorfranzjoseph: @ErzherzogtumÖsterreich bitch stole my look #ÖsterRUDE #whoworeitbetter #fieldmarshaleleganza

I figured “Austria, sir” would serve as a nice substitution for “Austria-san” as far as tone and place of social rank is concerned. And yes, over many centuries Austria and Hungary have done the do with each other. If you don’t think Austria was in boner city after seeing Hungary wail on Prussia during the War of Austria Succession, well, congrats on being totally wrong.

Thank you to all who read this fic and all the brave souls who actually got all through the notes section. You guys are the real MVPs. And I swear I’ll try to do an actual happy AusHun that features a kiss racier than the hand...someday...

#aushun #aushunweek2018 #aph austria #aph hungary #fanfic #historical fic #elisabeth of austria #axis powers hetalia #doing this on tumblr was a nightmare and i hate this site #can i leave

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star-veil · 7 years ago

Text

‘ adrenaline allure ‘

today we’re trying indents! crossdressing assassin? I think yes this is all @captainx-camino‘s fault

“If you ever speak of this to anyone we know, you will be sleeping on the floor for the next month.”

“C’mon, you look beautiful.”

Poe wasn’t usually one for the city. It was loud, dirty usually, but filled with his kind of people. rebels, risk-takers, and flyboys- and the most lovely of them, too.

When General Organa offered up an undercover mission on one of Naboo's prime gambling cities, Poe wasn’t about to turn this opportunity down- and he wasn’t about to let Armitage escape unscathed.

This was definitely worth it. Being able to sport a fancy-looking suit (It was Joph’s, Poe didn’t own a single thing that wasn’t stained with jet fuel and deicing fluid) and take a trip to a place that sparkled like a gem in the regal planet of Naboo. The city was lit like a sun, even at night, and was constantly roaring with life. Just the place Poe loved to be- where the action was.

“Planetfall in ten minutes,” He announced to the cabin compartment in the small, unmarked shuttle. Better to arrive unnoticed by their adversaries and enemies. It was small, Cygnus-Produced though Poe couldn’t name the model. Flew well, fast and lithe, sensitive under his control and fast with so little mass to the main fuselage and body.

But there were more important things to think about than shuttles. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he was a little nervous about this excursion. Focusing on the starship was an unnoticed mechanic of combatting that, and the moment he turned his attention to the city getting closer by the moment, Poe felt a wave of nauseating anxiety that rattled him a little. Quickly covering his composure, Poe leaned back to shoot a smile ‘Tage’s way.

“Ready?”

He gave him a death-glare, but Poe didn’t take it to heart.

They both fit right into the shining allure of the city. Nobody even spared Poe a glance, but knowing well Armie was a dashing man, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the other man yelled at someone for checking him out.

“So?” He spoke up, a growl growing in the back of his throat. “Where’s the target?”

“Should be right over here,” Poe set one hand against Armitage’s waist, guiding him to the left where a couple of steps on the corner of a street leading through twin glass doors into a bustling casino- and instantly Poe felt blinded.

Gold lined nearly everything. From the wall trim to the tables and chairs, decked out in richness and elegance that gave off the aesthetic vibe of a kingdom. No wonder Naboo ran on a monarchy, it was practically bursting with color, with sound and style. The people, all laughs and jewellery, gathered along the bar where bottles of Corellian wine lined the back wall, or standing around game tables, throwing dice and flicking cards like it was second-nature. Glancing around at the variety of species, Poe also worried they would have trouble finding their target.

“Lead the way, then.” Poe looked up as Armitage spoke then, and for the first time since he’d first seen his outfit, felt a bit breathtaking. Right here in the atmosphere of a gilded party, ‘Tage fit right in.

Jess had picked out the dress. She spent a full hour with Armitage, holding up different outfits to him and making little assessments before moving on.

“It’s gotta be perfect!” She had exclaimed. “You are going to be the most dashing man on that planet. You just wait.”

The dress curved to his body perfectly, highlighting every bit of him that Poe loved so much. It was black, with lace across his upper chest and arms, showing pale skin through the laced floral patterns, the skirt cut at his waist with a sashed ribbon tied in a neat bow at his lower back, and the skirt flowed around his legs like silk. Cutting just above the knee, giving focus to the heels that Jess had absolutely insisted he wears.

“It’s important!” She had cried.

“Just stay social. Try to chat it up with some folks, see if we can figure out where our target is.”

And they did just that.

Poe had, at some point, found his way to the bar. After speaking with several Keshians, and winning a round of Sabacc, he had settled with a glass of some kind of expensive alcohol and opted for watching the crowd, the velvet of his suit smoothed out with a stray hand before he moved to brush a few curls out of his forehead. No matter how much he brushed his hair back, a few rebellious locks would always stay free.

Across the casino, he spotted a familiar head of red hair, the sly smile accompanying it. Hux was fawning over some important-looking man in a tux, one hand brushing down his back, speaking in a hushed voice that Poe couldn’t read through the loudness.

He was so incredibly alluring in the way he carried himself, in the way he arched his back ever so slightly and the flow of the dress would carry with him, fluttering around his lithe legs.

Poe found himself staring, and blinked away-

But then there was the sound of a holster clicking open and a widespread gasp across the entire room as Poe jumped to his feet and grabbed underneath his jacket to where the glie-44 waited, hidden and-

“Get the fuck out of here, New Republic asshole!”

Through the panic of the crowd and Poe’s own flooding adrenaline, it took a moment to find the offender, but he froze as the muzzle of a blaster looked head-on to him. Behind it, their target. Damnit. Fucking damnit.

“Woah, calm down there, buddy-”

“The Senate is corrupt, you fuck! And none of your damn assassins can take me out, or my sympathizers!” The target waved his weapon wildly, and Poe flinched. “I would tell you to bring that message to your superiors but you won’t make it out of here alive, officer scum...”

As with everything it was fast and in a flash, but suddenly there was a flare of a muzzle from his side and he felt a push to his side, toppling sideways into a couple of chairs- but out of the line of fire. Out of most danger.

“Hux!” Poe shouted on instinct, grappling with the commotion to try to get to his feet, but his partner ducked beside him and tugged at his wrist, blaster in his other hand, keeping them down below cover as screams filled the space.

“Stay down,” Armitage warned, crouching with the blaster held to his chest, and Poe noticed a bolt had grazed his arm, the lace at his shoulder frayed and burnt away.

He looked so fucking hot.

“Copy...” Poe muttered, and with that Armitage burst upward again and extended his firearm. The sound of shattering bolts lit up the now emptying casino and glass fell around them- something had hit the lights.

Above him, Armitage cried out and stumbled back. “Your blaster, Poe, fucking shoot him!”

Muscle memory grabbed for the weapon and burst upward, dashing forward to slide to the right, barely hitting a table of cards that fluttered around him as he squeezed the trigger and let a volley of plasma rain down in the possible general direction of their target. He must have sorely missed because something hit him from the side and then he was hand-to-hand with a man with far more adrenaline than him.

One hit to the side, grab his gun away but feel it kicked from his grasp-

Put weight behind the punch and recover before rushing him again-

“Duck!”

A flash, far too close for comfort, and then it was over. Poe was left standing there, dazed, ringing echoing in his ears and the ghost of the muzzle flare still dancing in his gaze.

Their target slumped dead over the bar.

Armitage dropped his blaster, stepping forward- heels clicked against the littered ground. How on earth had he stayed upright during that fight?

“Let’s go home.”

‘Tage pressed a little peck to his cheek, hand touching at his waist to guide the dazed pilot home.

#gingerpilot #poe dameron #armitage hux #general hux #generalpilot #damerux #crossdressing babe #mm love me some shootouts #action lots of it

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bethygauw · 7 years ago

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Enstars Magazine vol.2: Interview with Development Staff - Unit Concept

From Enstars Magazine vol.2 Knights, released in September 2016.

This segment writes comments from the staff on their image of each unit in Yumenosaki Academy. Includes 10 units, and Switch got a longer part because they just got recently introduced at that time.

Staff interviewed:

M.T: Chief Planner and Contents Director. Person in-charge of overall supervision for elements such as contents direction, world setting, scenario, outfit designs among others.

M.H: Art Director. On top of being the art director for illustrations, they are also in charge of the Live2D.

K.M: Lead Illustrator. In charge of character designing, copyright illustrations, and line art for 4* and 5* illustrations, among other duties.

Note: I had to take pictures quickly before I flew out and didn’t take proper ones for the post, so I will add more pictures when I get back.

1. Switch

Staff comment: We want to give you moments that become “switches” that bring forth all sorts of changes.

From M.T.:

For Switch, I look at the unit’s theme color, the number of members, and the image color of each member. I chose the color that won’t clash with any of the other units, green, and at first I thought of motifs such as plants and fairies. On the other hand, because there are three of them and they have traffic light colors, in the end I included their individual color into their unit outfits and made them into their hair color. Also, because we were also planning to include one of the Five Oddballs, we had their key motif to be something more fantastical than Wataru’s “magic tricks”, hence “magic”, and that’s how the unit’s themes expanded even further.

In the creation process, we had challenges and there were points we were fixated with. To a certain degree, I already had a fixed image when I passed the character description onto the person in charge of the character’s visual roughs. But we spent a lot of time in designing the unit outfit, adapting the word “sporty” into “idol outfits”. Valkyrie had a dark orientation throughout and their chuunibyou elements were easy to design, but we felt that it was hard to realize the opposite into shape, which is presenting something in a fresh and new way. For unit outfits, they have balanced elements to them, so for future event outfits we hope the different themes and motifs will demonstrate their charms from a different angle.

As for their personalities, like giving muscles to the skeleton, further depth was given to the character description by Akira-san. So for the details on their interaction and what they think of the other characters, we’d like the players to read the stories and see for themselves. Switch may give off a fresh feel as a newly formed unit like Trickstar and units with first-years focus, but I hope it becomes a unit that, more than anyone else, produces chemical reaction with all sorts of units. We want to give you moments that become “switches” that bring forth all sorts of changes. Maybe it’s amongst Switch themselves, maybe it’s from another unit towards Switch, maybe it’s from Switch to other units.

From K.M:

I’d like to talk about things to note about in their visuals. To start off, Tsumugi. It would be his frizzy hair, and his sweater that has overly long sleeves*. We didn’t want his hair to make him look too gloomy, so we had his posture look sharp and his accessories neat. He wears glasses and has fringe, so his double eyelids tend to stay hidden. But we made the depression in his eye socket more pronounced so that his expressions are easier to interpret and his gentle atmosphere can be brought out. Only Sakuma brothers, Shinobu, Mika, and Natsume don’t have this depression, while everyone else’s shapes differ slightly from one to another.

*It’s something moe, also called moesode (lit. moe sleeves).

Next is Natsume. We have a lot of characters with slanted eyes, so I made sure to make a different shape. Hokuto and Souma have almond-shaped eyes that are typical of that of Japanese, but the area around Natsume’s eyes leave a showy impression closer to Wataru and Shu’s. To give him more of a magician’s vibe, the eyeline at the corner of his eye is thick and curved. His expressions were tuned to show confidence and staggering atmosphere.

Sora’s hair has an unusual clumpy feel for the game, so I made sure to fit him into the game without ruining the atmosphere. I didn’t want him to look too young, so I made sure that he doesn’t only feel fluffy but also cool. There are already a number of students who are wearing parkers, so I chose slightly thick material. The strings around the neck are also thick to bring out his individuality. His triangular eyebrows and acorn-shaped eyes are to be noted.

During character designing and creation of event CGs, we pretty much already solidified their unique traits in terms of outer appearances the moment we received the three’s character proposal. But we also paid close attention to ensure there are enough differences between them and the already existing characters, so that they blend into the series. Everyone has unique hairstyle, so we’re really careful about adjustments of things such as the thickness of the hair tufts and the way we draw the hair ends. Tsumugi has a heavy perm and dark hair colour, he wears glasses, and he has unique traits that are not what you’d call a hot guy in general. So I thought about how to make him likened by many while still keeping these individualities and adjusted the details quite a lot. As you may have guessed from his character description, Tsumugi is not your typical hottie, but he has a slightly refined touch, delicate and seems kind. That’s the image I was striving for, hence the visual’s end result. I want to hear people say, “I like this part of Tsumugi!” so I was fixated on things like the nuance of his hair, his big and sinewy hands that show anxious gestures, a posture that gives him a high-class impression, and his accessories. We made his event CG before the script was ready, so it was difficult to picture his emotions from a specific scene. His unbloomed CG is a tragic scene, but despite being in despair, he performs on top of the stage, creating something akin to a beautiful painting. I hope it can give you such impression. His pose too—so that I can create a shadow on his face, I lifted his arm. The sense of negativity is to attract your attention to his expression even more. But he’s still part of fine, so I kept in mind to keep the movement elegant and brilliant. Conversely, his bloomed CG pictures him casting a gentle magic that gives happiness to people, as if expressing Tsumugi’s original nature.

As for Natsume, finding the balance was difficult. For example, his hair is divided into fringe and the back side, and its asymmetrical sidelocks are its unique trait. I wanted to let out a mysterious feel so I made sure that he makes complacent smiles. For the event CGs, I first drew Natsume then Tsumugi, but it was difficult to come up with compositions and poses that express the feel of both idols and magicians. I watched magical girl shows for young girls and movies and I was able to grasp the image of scenes showing how “magic is cast as if they bestow dreams to others.” When the curtains are lifted, Natsume would face the audience and click his fingers and release the first magic. That’s my image for Natsume’s CG, while Tsumugi would spin* some magic with his fingertips. Even with Natsume’s 2☆ card, I wanted people to be able to tell at a glance that he’s mysterious and gives off magical feel, and I had a hard time coming up with the pose.

*”tsumugidasu” which is usually used for “spin a tale”; “weave a story”

2. Trickstar

A unit that is close by your side and genuine, a unit that’s very high school boys-like.

M.T.: I think compared to other units, the combination of the four in Trickstar is the closest to the feel of high school boys. All members are second-years, they clash with their true feelings, they make stupid jokes, their interactions are like skits between the silly man and the straight man. You don’t get to see that kind of thing from anyone else that often. Trickstar’s charm is that compared to any other unit they’re the closest to your side, and you can easily build a sense of familiarity towards them.

M.H.: In their key visual, each of them is riding on a star. During the creation process of the key visual, we the staff discussed among ourselves what kind of unit Trickstar is. I think Trickstar is a unit that would burst out into the open and is lively. They would ride on the stars and would probably say, “It may be an unstable [ride] but we’re going to challenge ourselves on various things.” I made their visual packed with vigor that is characteristic of them.

3. Fine

Their theme is rulers who have the position to command others.

M.T.: It’s a unit that rules from the top of Yumenosaki Academy, so I think they have a ruler-like personality and confidence. Hence, they may seem to stand on formalities, or rather, there is a certain distance between the members. Compared to Trickstar, the members may not have a single common thought.

Fine’s outfit has the motif of a ruler’s, at any rate, Eichi, the leader’s image is strongly brought out. We also added an element of music, and they also have a theme of rulers who are in the position to command others. Also, we use angel’s wings as a motif in their unit logo. The way they put pressure on other students from above is perhaps like them taking the role of angels who relay messages from God, in a sense. Their unit colors are white and gold, and an angel’s wings are also pure white, aren’t they? It’s also a color of nobility, brilliance, and purity, so I chose it as their theme color.

4. UNDEAD

Their charm is the gap between their on-stage selves and their usual selves.

M.T.: UNDEAD’s image colors are black and purple, and their charm point is their wild feel like that of a beast. They’re a unit where we can show off sexiness the most. They’re wild, but rather than lunging at other units, it’s more like the way they appeal themselves as idols is thorny. So the members are actually tender-hearted, to put it in another way, there’s a rather huge gap between their on-stage selves and their usual selves. The way they behave towards their classmates and their juniors or seniors is distinguished properly.

Regarding their outfits, we thought something rock and black would be nice after all, so we chose leather jackets. Fundamentally for leather jackets, long sleeves predominate, and when I designed it in an orthodox way, it felt like they were wearing so much (laugh). It was also because the game’s development period was not in summer, so even if they’re a sexy unit their skin exposure is on the lower side. If we had made it half-sleeved, maybe it would have been something like PirateFes.

5. Knights

The appearance of the absent leader, Leo, was undecided.

M.T.: With the models as the top batters, everyone in Knights have a pretty appearance and gives out the air that they would protect someone, just like a knight. We use chess as their motif, so “pieces” are reflected in their relationships and the way they act, in some way.

The fact that the leader was absent was part of the setting ever since we were at the stage of unit creation, but whether the leader would make an appearance or not was not clearly decided. It was like, if an opportunity arises as the game moved along [then we’d introduce the leader].

When Leo was introduced as a new character, I wondered about what kind of position would an idol get the most attention. In the end, I thought it would be the moment the absent leader comes back. Originally, Akira-san’s suggestion also became the trigger of how he was created, “It would be interesting if there’s this kind of character.” He’s a character that lets you feel the connection in the Ensemble series.

6. Ryuseitai

M.T.: As a sentai group, each member of Ryuseitai is doing whatever they want, so compared to the usual sentai group they have a bond that is somewhat different and I think that’s interesting. There are no second-years, only first- and third-years. So there is somewhat distance in their relationships, which is also unique to them.

Every position has their own color, so I don’t have too much trouble figuring out their event outfits, however transformation suits like in Supernova was tough. I asked myself if this design would let them move as I created it.

M.H.: For Ryuseitai’s key visual, I wanted to make it so that their unique traits can be spotted with just one picture. We were told that their part in the main story was like a comic band, so I wanted to bring out not only hero-like feel, but also a little bit of them joking around. In the first proposal of the robot, Midori was the son of the grocery store so we were going to make the cabbage transform, but in the end we decided on eggplant and thus it became what we have now (laugh). To tell the truth, we were also thinking of another form where the robot is separated into pieces.*

*I’m actually not sure about the reference to this whole part, please let me know if I made a mistake.

7. Ra*bits

Nazuna is the one who pulled the other three along, who doesn’t know left and right yet.

M.T.: Ra*bits is also a unit composed of first- and third-years, just like Ryuseitai, but they have a different kind of relationship. The only third-year, Nazuna, demonstrates proper leadership, but he also has cuteness that blends in with the first years. A point to be noted is that everyone is “cute”. There are no less than three first-years who are starting out to become idols, and they don’t have a vision of what it’s like to be an idol just yet, so something to highlight is their development within the stories. Each of them would sell themselves in an adorable way while bringing out their own individuality—as a boy, they may be against it, but I hope we’ll be able to illustrate that kind of conflict. Their first-year peer, Tori, would use his cuteness on purpose (laugh), but those three are not so self-aware—it’s more natural.

I designed their outfit by making a sailor’s uniform become idol-like. The only ones who get to wear knee-length pants are Ra*bits (laugh).

8. 2wink

They shoulder a dilemma only twin brothers would have.

M.T.: 2wink are twins so the bond between them is strong, but what they think and what they aim for is different… They disagree and are unable to fit into each other, and they shoulder a dilemma only brothers would have. From the start they're already experienced in street performance, so they’re not shy in front of people, and they understand how to show themselves off. I think a little bit of that mastery is their unit’s charm. They would guide other units and give them advice. They are dependable first-years.

M.H.: Among all Yumenosaki Academy units, I think 2wink is the sportiest. The hue on their outfits somehow gives of a feel of pointedness, which becomes their theme*. They are a duo, so they present a challenge different from other units. How far should they match and where should we make them different is a point of consideration that always puts us at a loss every time. But that being said, if you just look at their expressions, I think we are able to make it so that you’re able to tell which one is Hinata and which one is Yuta.

*I’m also unsure about the nuance for this, sorry. I think it’s the way they’re being sarcastic, but not so spiteful inside. Most of the time. The original word used for “pointedness” is 毒っけ.

9. Akatsuki

They have masculine toughness and grace, but the three’s distance are that of a family’s.

M.T.: Akatsuki is the only unit with traditional Japanese elements, so their unique traits are the least blurry. Their theme color is red, and while they are substantial and solid as the academy’s number two, there’s also passion hidden within each member. They have that kind of image. During the initial stages, they were powerful people with masculine toughness and grace, but after Akira-san had a hand in them, their role became very clear. The distance between them are close, and I think you can see their strong bond like that of a family.

As for the outfits, it’s a combination of kimono, pants, and boots, which makes a good seasoning comprising traditional Japanese elements and idols.

Also, in their key visual, that becomes their first illustration, they used fans and traditional umbrellas instead of mics which bring out their showiness. This can only be done by Akatsuki. As for Souma, it’s very like him to bring around his sword during his idol activities as well.

10. Valkyrie

The unit’s motifs are “dolls” and “strings”.

M.T.: I think there’s still a lot of mysteries to unveil about Valkyrie’s relationship with other units. We will create more as we discuss with Akira-san, so please look forward to it.

Valkyrie’s motifs were already decided since the beginning: dolls and strings. “Pulling the strings” also connects to the relationship between the members. The antique motif is not really used in regards to other units, but the colors red and black are used a lot, so when I was thinking how I can bring out a different mood, I thought steampunk would make a good compatibility, so we decided to go in that direction. It’s a unit that was created later, so I included motifs that carry a meaning from the get go.

As for their outfits, Shu is the handicraft club’s captain so we chose laces and so on. So elaborate ornaments predominate.

#ensemble stars #enstarsmagz #worldnavi #switch #trickstar #fine #undead #knights #ryuseitai #ra*bits #2wink #akatsuki #valkyrie #staff

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a-tale-of-moons · 4 years ago

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Chapter II: Lying With the Enemy

Late afternoon stretches into early evening. The crackling heat has cooled, a breeze whistling across my cheeks. My ankles ache in a way I never knew possible. If simply crouching in the same spot for hours isn’t already considered hard labor, it should be. We’ve all been huddled in seclusion long enough for the oppressing heat of the afternoon sun to dilute enough to merely exist without feeling the need to mop up the soaking bits of my body with a torn rag.

As for the carriage, it’s still waiting on the dirt road, horse and all. The smartly dressed man, however, is just now emerging from the opposite wood. If he still has the knife, it’s concealed somewhere on his body.

And the woman is nowhere to be seen.

The man looks around the darkness. And as he’s scanning the area, his eyes land directly on me. Moonlight glints off his irises and they look sinister. I can barely breathe as he continues to stare, even takes a few steps in our direction. And just when I think he’s figured out we’re here, he swoops his arm in a large motion, lips moving silently, and wisps of something seep up through the dirt road. The wisps grow into clouds of something. And as bizarre as this may sound, I can hear the clouds...whispering to each other. The man is soon encompassed in the whispering fog and then he’s gone. No trace is left of him but the goosebumps rising against my skin.

For a time more we sit in silence, unsure of what may happen next. Then, finally, Jacoby unfolds his long legs and takes a step near the road. My siblings and I know to stay put. My older brother takes several more cautious steps toward the dirt road. Eventually, he makes it into the moonlight, taking survey of the surrounding wood.

Turning to us, he waves his arm in a beckoning motion. Even in the shade of dusk, I notice the sweat on his brows. Or maybe it's a hallucination from baking in the heat for the better part of my day. Regardless, I know he's stressed. Being the oldest, he holds the weight of us on his shoulders quite often. So, at this moment, I make a personal oath to be as independent as I know how.

"Is he gone?" Pond whispers next to me. "The man with the...uh-"

"I think so," I say and stand.

"How do we know for sure?" Elora asks, still folded close to the grass. "What if he comes back?"

I stretch out my hand toward her. After a moment's hesitation, Elora takes it and I help her to her feet.

"I don't think he will," I say. "But, even if he does, we'll be long gone by then. Come on. We better not stick around too long."

Pond and Elora follow me out of the shadows of the trees and onto the dirt road, where Jacoby is inspecting the abandoned carriage. It's very different from the ramshackle ones that grumble through the village roads. This one looks regal, made of sturdy wood stripped from trees that only grow around the perimeter of big cities. The horse has a well-groomed black coat with blue and black beads braided into its mane and swishing tail, colors of the flag from which it hails. If my memory serves me correctly, this is a carriage from Illoria. It’s a merchant city that specializes in premium fabrics. Which would explain the luxurious tapestry that conceals the cabin inside. And whoever the man dragged into the woods was a significant person from Illoria, possibly even a member of the royal court.

“Get in,” Jacoby says.

My mouth opens, aghast. “Get in?”

“It’s an abandoned carriage with a strong horse that will surely deliver us into Brae with minimal time delays,” he says, brushing his fingers over the horse’s side with a calculative expression. “Stealing a carriage is risky, I know. But four teenagers trying to make it into the royal kingdom by foot is even riskier. This way, should we be stopped and questioned, we’ll have a cover story.”

“And that cover story is?” I ask.

With a mysterious grin, Jacoby pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and stretches it out to me. Skeptically, I take it. And Pond and Elora press up against my sides as I read it aloud: “The sheltered Royal Princess of Illoria comes out of hiding to be wed to the Royal Prince of the Braein kingdom. This matrimony will not only wed the two, but so shall their kingdoms be unified in marital bliss…”

“And, naturally, I should take the role of the Illorian princess.” Elora tosses her braids to one shoulder with a haughty attitude. “No offense, Nao. But, you’re not really princess material.”

“Offended?” I scoff at her. “Believe you me, I’m relieved.”

“On the contrary,” Jacoby says. “If this all goes according to plan, the princess will be in close quarters with the prince and royal family. She needs to have command over her own emotions, level-headed judgement, a close ear for information, and most importantly self-restraint. We don’t have a better Illorian princess than Naomi.”

“What?” Elora and I manage to blurt at the same time.

“Do you honestly think we’re here to play dress-up?” Jacoby asks in frustration. “We’re here to get what we need to save Ama’s life. This is not the time to be selfish. Now, Naomi, you’re the princess. I’ll be the princess’ royal advisor and sworn protector. Pond, you’re our horse master and carriage attendant. And, Elora, don’t faint, but you’re the princess’ lady-in-waiting.”

“Lady-in-waiting?” Elora’s face contorts. “Let me get this straight. Not only am I not the princess. Which is a role I was born for, by the way. But, I’m her servant? I-I...is this what an aneurysm feels like?”

“Dear Lord.” Jacoby rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh. “I’m going to check inside for any supplies. You three, stay close and quiet.”

“I’ll be real quiet,” Elora says under her breath next to me. “Just practicing for when I’m a servant.”

Jacoby pulls himself up and disappears inside the cabin. As soon as the partition falls shut, Elora turns to me with a twisted lip, arms crossed over her chest. “Tell Jake you don’t wanna be the princess.”

“I’m as unenthused about it as you are,” I tell her. “But, if Jake thinks it’s for the best then-”

“Oh, we both know it wouldn’t be for the best.” Elora scoffs.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, beginning to get a little irritated.

“No offense, Nao-”

“You know, ‘no offense’ isn’t some magical shield that’ll stop me from being offended.” I cross my arms back at her. “But, go ahead. Because now I at least know you’re about to say something rude, and I’m ready for it.”

“Come on, Naomi.” Elora laughs at a joke only she seems to find funny.

“Come on, what?” Maybe it’s the frown I feel tugging at my lips that makes Elora get serious. Because she lets out a heavy breath and takes a step toward me.

“I mean, just start with the way you dress,” she says, plucking at my plain, white blouse with a grimace. “Any self-respecting young lady wears a dress or skirt, at the very least. And pieces made out of seasonal flowers and striking colors are all the rage right now. Take my outfit, for example.”

To drill in her point, Elora takes a step back so she has space to do a slow twirl, showing off her forest green dress with daisies outlining her collar. It’s beautiful on its own. And my flower of a sister makes it that much more stunning. I should know what’s in style at the moment as Elora never stops pestering me with the frivolous chatter of the “self-respecting young ladies”; and I’m often the one she begs to sew her clothes.

“A light blouse with trousers is practical for someone who spends as much time outside as I do,” I say through clenched teeth, anger boiling at the back of my throat. “And someone who forages for your sustenance on a regular basis. Elora, what are you trying to stay? Because I don’t dress up like a fairy with no responsibilities everyday that I don’t have what it takes to be a princess? I’m intelligent enough, elegant enough, and I’m showing a bit more class than you at the moment. I’m going to make an excellent Illorian princess and you can sit back and watch from the servants’ quarters.”

“Fine,” Elora grumbles, eyes squinted. “But, when you make a bumbling fool of yourself trying to play a role better fit for a swamp frog, don’t come crying to me for help.”

Sneering at her, I say, “That’s not going to happen, so I won’t.”

“Hey.”

Anger dissipating, I look at Pond from where he’s crouching and staring up between the both of us. He shakes his head.

“Meanwhile, you guys will actually be inside of the castle,” Pond says with a sigh. “I’m gonna be stuck in the stables. And when the horses figure out I’m not actually a master, I’m done for. Maybe we’ll see each other if you guys ever visit the infirmary. Which is where I’ll be after probably taking a hoof to the jaw. But, sure, you guys are gonna have it rough.”

Just then, Jacoby pokes his head through the partition and waves us in. To save myself from being knocked over by Elora, I let her go in first. And Pond follows after me. The inside of the carriage is comfortable. A lit oil lamp is nestled in a holder on the wall. The seats are cushioned and adorned with pillows in lovely shades of blue. Different garments are laid neatly on the seats.

“I found these in the cabin’s storage.” Jacoby runs his hands over a pair of trousers, and then looks up at me. “Nao, I was hoping you could tailor them a bit to fit everyone. Maybe add a few more Illorian touches to make it all look more...official?”

I flip the sack on my back around to perch on my left hip and rummage through it. I didn’t think to pack a proper tape measure, but I have string and a little ink to make markings. And my heavy duty sewing equipment is back in my room. However, I did bring a few needles and some string. And maybe I can strip some of the fabric from the pillows to blend Illoria’s blue into the garments. It’ll take more time than I’m used to spending, but I can make it work. I have no choice but to make it work.

I take Jacoby and Pond’s measurements, before the two leave to figure out the rider’s post. I’m left to take Elora’s measurements. It proves to be more difficult as it seems my brothers have finally got the carriage moving. So, I’m tasked to get my sister to hold still for me as the horses clop along the dirt road and the carriage tilts occasionally due to its inexperienced handlers.

"I didn't mean it," Elora says in a quiet voice as she stretches out her arms so I can drape my make-shift measuring tape across the width of them. "I was mad, ok? You wouldn't make a horrible princess."

"That was almost a compliment." I'm grumbling, but I don't try too hard to hide my smirk. To say I know my sister like the back of my hand would be an understatement. She's too easy to read. Like a book where the words are supersized in the darkest, freshest ink. I knew a half-assed, begrudging apology was on its way. This is a new record, though. She must feel awful.

“Look.” Elora drops on the cushion next to me. “Just promise not to become a “princess” and forget about your family.”

“So, don’t do what you would do?” I ask.

“Exactly.” Elora smiles with a nod. “Glad we could come to an understanding.”

“Uh, yeah, me too.” I roll my eyes and point to the sack on the floor. “Hand me my stuff?”

━━ �� ❖ ◦ ━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━

We ride for two days straight, making scarce stops to let the horse (who we’ve decided to name Duck) graze and wash off whenever we can find water. Since Elora and I have an image to uphold all of a sudden, I’m stuck with her inside of the cabin for hours on end, listening to her either complain about the heat or the fact that her dress is hemmed to loo low. And so I’m trapped in an endless cycle of her complaining, me explaining that servants are supposed to dress more modestly, and her continuing to complain because...I don’t know. Maybe she loves the sound of her own damn voice. The plain fact is, I’m losing my mind.

So, when Jacoby does his special knock from the rider’s post to signal Elora and I to get into character, I actually breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, something to do besides bury my face into a cushion and scream. The carriage bumbles to a stop and I can hear Duck whinny and stomp his hooves. There’s something of a commotion outside for a few moments before it dies down enough for me to be able to hear someone jump down from the rider’s post. I can’t be sure if it’s Jacoby or Pond.

“Are we there?” Elora scoots closer and grabs my wrist, staring straight forward in what looks like barely contained panic. I slide my hand in hers and give it a good squeeze.

“I think so,” I say to the side of her face. She still isn’t looking at me. “And we’re going to have to make it through this. So, if there were ever a time for you to act like a lion in a lamb’s body, it’s now.”

“What if I mess up?” She’s still talking to the ghosts in front of her, seemingly lost in a haze of fear. “What if I blow our cover? Or, am so bad that I get kicked out on the streets of Brae to become spirit food?”

“Whatever you do, you do it with excellence and flair.” Elora’s eyes finally find mine, so I don’t stop. “Before soon, you’ll have the other ladies in-waiting waiting on you. And I truly believe that. You should too.”

I don’t get any time to affirm this with my sister because the carriage’s door opens and a sinister fog bleeds inside of the cabin. My grip on her becomes tighter as Jacoby emerges from the fog, leaning in close to us.

“Elora, don’t speak unless spoken to. Do what you’re told. At some points in the day, you’re going to be with us. And other points, you’re going to be in the servants quarters. But I think I can work this old man over into getting you a conjoining room with mine. Nao, you’re Naomi Evelyn Ollidette, 17 year old Crown Princess of Illoria, a merchant city specializing in luxury fabrics and attire. You’re betrothed to the Crown Prince of Brae, Nathaniel Blackwood. I’ll try to get some info on the others you’ll be expected to know later this evening. For now, speak as scarcely as possible. Just nod, smile, and make generic, polite conversation only when absolutely necessary.”

Jacoby takes both Elora and I’s hands and says, “We’ll get through this together, guys. For Ama.”

And then he’s gone and the partition falls shut again. Whatever Jacoby concocted in his mind to get us through the gates must have worked because instead of being chased from the road, we’re clopping along once more. Elora sits beside me in silence, our brown hands melting together in solidarity. What awaits us in the castle is unknown. What this Prince Nathaniel will be like is also unknown. I’ve never needed my sister as much as I do right now. All there is to do as we ride to our destination is do final checks of everything. I start with the clothes.

Elora’s lady-in-waiting outfit is simple, as is most appropriate. It’s a muted blue cotton dress with just a bit of intricate seamwork. We are from Illoria afterall, the fashion hub of royal kingdoms. Her flat shoes are a matching color. It’s a beautiful ensemble, in all of its plainness.

My gown looks like a circus in comparison. It’s a silk, cornflower blue overskirt structured with a hoop skirt and copious amounts of tulle. The cap-sleeve bodice creates an ombre effect of various blues and is adorned with black lace detailing along the bust. The hem of the skirt is also detailed with more of the lace. I slept with my black curls in braids the past couple of nights so I could manage it into some sort of style where a crown can fit on top of it, the most audacious piece of all.

There is no way to hide the vibrant flowers growing out of my scalp and peeking through my hair. I just hope no one has ever heard a description of the princess because I may get us killed before we even get a chance to step foot into the castle. Which we pull up to not long after rolling through the gates. As if to compensate for the last couple of days moving in super slow speed, the next hour or so moves like someone has put the world in fast motion.

I can only acquaint myself with what is to be my temporary home in rapid images, quickly guided through winding, stone corridors by a tall, shadowy figure who introduces himself as Esper, royal advisor to the prince himself. I can hardly gather my bearings with him flying through the tour as fast as he is. Almost as if he wants to be able to say he gives us the lay of the land without us actually being able to know our way around independently. Places I actually catch are the kitchen, the servant’s wing, and my quarters.

Esper excuses himself to do official business after reminding us of the welcome dinner that begins at dusk. He leaves us in my room. It’s the grandest thing I’ve ever seen. It has several end tables, a humongous wardrobe, a vanity armoire, a four-post bed ladened with fluffy pillows and what looks to be the finest quality linens, and a wide window set in the stone wall to the right of the bed. It’s all decked out in blue and black. Except for the Braein flag covering one-fourth of an entire wall boasting the kingdom’s vibrant blue and silver.

“I’m gonna take Elora and get her settled in her room, and start working on that information packet I promised you,” Jacoby says. I turn to look at him. He looks so smartly dressed in his blue advisor robes with his hair pulled into a low ponytail. The image of Jacoby and Elora side-by-side in unfamiliar clothes in a strange place makes my stomach turn. I have yet to experience a sense of dread toward our circumstances. But, talk of my siblings leaving me alone in this big room with its cold, stone walls and nothing to keep me company but the window overlooking a cloudy sky invokes the most horrid spell of anxiety I’ve ever felt. What have we gotten ourselves into?

━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━

I’ve been going through the information packet for an hour now. I pick through what I can of Jacoby’s chicken scratch and make a mental note to inquire about anything I can’t read well. My mother, Reina Olidette, queen of Illoria is stricken with a heart ailment. She is said to be compassionate and wise. My father, Joshua Olidette III, king of Illoria, is rumored to have somewhat of a temper, but is a fair and just ruler. The princess has no brothers or sisters. Although it isn’t my life, I still deflate. The king and queen of Illoria have only one heir, and she may not even be alive. The thought raises so many questions. What happens when all of this is over, if we survive? I can’t stay as Crown Princess of Brae. I want to go back with my siblings to live with Ama. But, surely if we try to go back, especially me, they’ll have guards after our heads.

Before I have time to dwell on it any further, raps come from my door and Jacoby is summoning me for dinner. I guess this is where it begins. I walk beside and a step behind Jacoby. Elora walks a couple steps behind me. If my nerves weren’t already bad enough, when I walk into the palatial dining room and see the intimate space (referring to the set-up and certainly not the size) my chest seizes in palpitations. A servant leads me to my gilded seat, and Jacoby sits beside me. Elora finds a place with the rest of the servants.

And we wait.

After what seems like an eternity, the doors open and in walks the most terrifyingly gorgeous man I have ever seen. He looks about six foot with chocolate coils cut close to his scalp, a wide, smooth forehead, straight eyebrows, almond-shaped deep brown eyes, a strong nose, and plush lips all set into russet brown skin. His robes are the most ostentatious they can possibly be. He’s wearing that signature Braein blue with flecks of luminous silver and just a few touches of gold. A royal-exclusive color, I’m sure.

I expect for him to regard me with disdain or even scorn. I certainly would if my parents were forcing a stranger on me for marriage. I’m caught completely off-guard by what looks to be excited curiosity as Royal Prince Nathaniel approaches where I’m seated, instead of the gaudy seat at the head of the table that is obviously his own. We stand in haste, and I curtsy just how Jacoby taught me. Upon rising, I’m still baffled by the prince’s expression.

“I bid you a thousand good evenings, and a thousand more, Princess Naomi.” Prince Nathaniel’s voice sounds like the smoothest spun silk. “Soon-to-be Crown Princess Naomi of Illoria.”

#chapters #a tale of moons

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stephicness · 7 years ago

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Send My Love to the Dancefloor! – Final Fantasy XV Ballroom Dancers AU

What do you mean that I wasn’t requested to do a Ballroom Dancer AU? PSSH. Imma post it anyways because we could all use an obligatory Ballroom Dancer AU! C:

Noctis Lucis Caelum

ROUTINE INSPIRATIONS::

Inspiration One

Inspiration Two

Inspiration Three

Perhaps the most basic of the other dancers, he only ever really wants to dance the waltz.

It’s a simplistic dance, with easy movements, and the others tend to make fun of Noctis for not wanting to do a more challenging type dance.

But he’s ultimately very good at it, knowing what to do to apply a nice flare to it with his dance partner.

He’s stronger than he looks, able to twirl his partner and at some points, even lift them up enough to spin them as they glide across the dancefloor together. He became quite skilled enough to do this, to where he can move over platforms and steps with his partner, which few have the grace and strength to do.

He’ll often be counting his steps out of sheer nervous habit as he practices with his partner, but when he’s out on the dancefloor, his anxieties melt away. He’s quite the natural in movement, almost like he becomes a whole new personality when he’s out there competing.

He dances mostly to fulfill his father’s legacy as a ballroom dancer, refining some of Regis’s skills and becoming quite a popular face among dancers alike. Young, handsome, and graceful – things he aspires to be, even though he already is.

Sometimes, however, Noctis is seen incorporating some hints of ballet into his routines with his partners – something he was roped into learning after Ignis encouraged him to. It pays out, but he regrets Prompto ever taking a picture of him in a leotard.

If his dance partner is his lover, he’s not above placing little kisses on their face during the performance, though it should be apart of the routine after the one time his partner froze up and blanked out after the kiss. Their competitive score suffered severely, despite it being cute for the audience to see.

His routines with his partner are often focused around the themes of blissful love, childhood romances, and family. Very sentimental themes. But with the right chemistry with his dance partner, Noctis feels like these themes would be perfectly portrayed, especially since he can relate to them well.

Prompto Argentum

ROUTINE INSPIRATIONS::

Inspiration One

Inspiration Two

Inspiration Three

Honestly, this boy doesn’t know how to make-up his mind, but it’s good too since he’s got a natural knack at dancing. He’s done all sorts of styles of dance, including one phase where he dabbled in interpretive dance, but he doesn’t like bringing it up that often.

He’s always lithe on his feet, liking to dance in more fast-paced styles of dance – especially if his partner can keep up with him and his energetic choreography. So, dances like the Jive or Swing are the kinds of dances he favors the most.

He’s not as traditional as other ballroom dancers are, and instead, he takes a liking to incorporating modern music into his dances to surprise everyone. He one time choreographed the Charleston with Uptown Funk as his song, which was the highlight of his career, he thinks.

Perhaps not strong enough to do some intense lifts and the like, but his quick steps and speed allow the momentum of him and his partner to really impress the audiences. It helps when the choreography requires him to swing his partner around, and apply more of a ‘wow’ factor into his performances.

He’s not a big fan of the super flashy costumes, at least when he’s dressing in them. His partner though? Wear that short dress or tight outfit that shows off those toned legs! He’ll admire them for a good ten minutes every time he sees the costume fittings because he feels lucky to have someone so skilled and beautiful as a dance partner.

Despite Prompto being a ballroom dancer, he also really enjoys street-styled dances with Gladio, taking the time to learn what the newest trend is and seeing if he can apply it. He and Gladiolus sometimes just leave to go to the park with some music as they just go dance together, seeing what people like and hearing them challenge the boys to do some crazy breakdance.

Or better too – he finds a combination of music and dance and meshes it together with his lively dance skills – pondering once about whether he could make the Gangnam Style into a fun Jive dance. It didn’t work with the judges when he and his partner took it to competition, but the ballroom dance fans loved it.

He loves his partner to death, and probably flirts with them a lot – regardless of if they’re in a relationship together or not. Anyone who can keep up with Prompto’s antics is a keeper – especially when they end up flirting back and causing Prompto to blush like a dummy.

He likes to have his routines stay whimsical and fun, always incorporating comedy into it if he can in silly boy-meets-girl/other boy scenarios. There’s always a small story with Prompto’s routines, and he used it to try getting younger audiences into ballroom dancing just like how he did.

Ignis Scientia

ROUTINE INSPIRATIONS::

Inspiration One

Inspiration Two

Inspiration Three

Perhaps the most experienced out of the younger ballroom dancers, he shows his skill when he performs. He’s precise in his steps, has this demeanor that ultimately captivates you. His presences on the dancefloor is one that many competitive dancers acknowledge and fear because he’s a force to be reckoned with in competition.

He’s a rather traditional guy when he dances, enjoying dancing in styles that require elegance and grace, almost systematic even. If he can come up with a map of how the dance is laid out, he probably will do it. Or at the very least, drill the dance until both he and his partner can dance in their sleep.

It might seem a bit boring to hear that Ignis dances things like the Viennese Waltz or the Foxtrot, but when people watch him and his partner perform, there’s a sense of sensuality to their dances. Yet at the same time, he’s modest and romantic.

Despite his very straight-forward and very precise performances, it’s the emotion that lingers underneath them that really blows fans away and captivates his dance partner. Ignis wouldn’t chose a partner that he didn’t have chemistry with -- regardless of how good they are. So the performance chemistry that he and his partner becomes a strength in their performances.

He mainly enjoys dancing various types of waltzes, however he was once an exceptionally talented dancer of the Tango. He sometimes goes back to his roots, though he tries his best to remain modest. Why he stopped dancing the Tango is a mystery everyone ponders on, because he used to be one of the fiercest Tango dance competitors out there. A time forgotten, it seems.

His routines with his partner are often set with musicals and opera, much to the dismay of people that want Ignis to show that he has some fun (AKA Noctis and the bros). But Ignis, nevertheless, continues to keep to his genre of music to dance to because there’s a lot more to his music choice than just the fact that it’s an old classic.

Because with his music choice, Ignis enjoys telling the stories that the operas tell. Most of them are tragedies, but they all share a common theme of romance and passion. Even if they sometimes have a tragic end. It requires research nevertheless, and he does enjoy researching things when he gets the chance to.

The choreography he does often reflects the passion and romance he may feel with his dance partner, should the two be lovers. Of course, not all the tragedy, but the idea of the desire and emotions behind it is what he really loves showing to others as they dance. Some dances get dark and intense though, so audiences often are concerned if he and his partner are fighting with one another. No. The story just requires Medea to kill the kids, that’s all.

Probably wouldn’t put it past him to know one dance that doesn’t take place in the ballroom. That dance is pole-dancing. It really shows when he knows how to lift his partner up with ease. But even if he gets bagged on for knowing it, working that pole really does have its benefits.

Gladiolus Amicitia

ROUTINE INSPIRATIONS::

Inspiration One

Inspiration Two

Inspiration Three

He didn’t really start out as a fan of ballroom dancing, mostly just being there for Noctis as support (and a babysitter – especially after the drunkard incident), but that was mostly because when he saw the others dance, their dances were all boring. No flare to it.

It wasn’t until he got to see the legendary Cor Leonis take the stage that he got fired up. Seeing the intense and fast steps, the way Cor and his partner lit up the dancefloor with such flare and sexiness – that was what inspired Gladiolus to try it out for himself.

So, he eventually began to emphasize dances with fast steps and high-energy, taking it to the extreme even more-so than Prompto. Because for Gladiolus, he likes the Latin American style of dances like the Cha-Cha and Samba. More playful and flashier, which he digs.

He really likes the idea of having a dance partner that’s wild and fun, which ultimately inspires Gladiolus to meet the same standards and energy as his partner. With how flirty and partner-oriented their routines and choreography is, Gladiolus makes it his goal to have a compatibility with his partner that would make even Ignis and his ‘emotional dancing’ weep.

After all, with how sensual and passionate his routines and choreography are, he must have that chemistry, otherwise the romance wouldn’t exist, he feels. Gotta make the fanservice for the ballroom dance fans possible, after all. Enough to make the judges feel a bit hot and bothered too as they watch Gladiolus and his partner dance together.

Despite him liking these super wild and fast-paced dances, he eventually begins to learn and adore being able to dance the very intense and bold styles like the Tango. It’s a whole different atmosphere than the cute and flirty things, with it being almost like sex and war on the dancefloor.

His favorite routine is probably a tango that he and his partner did that ultimately gave the comment from one of the judges: ‘I didn’t know if to look away because you guys were getting it on or keep watching and indulge in some voyeurism.’ Creepy kinda, but the thrill of drawing people in like that is why he loves dancing so much.

He likes it when his partner dresses up in super flashy and sexy outfits, but he himself doesn’t really do much on his attire. He’ll, of course, either have most (if not all) of his shirt undone and/or have his shirt off for a good majority of the performances. Something to make the fans swoon. And sometimes distract from the fact that Gladiolus missed a step. Oops.

His music selection would probably equate to something like hip hop or R&B, things that are contemporary but sexy at the same time. It throws back to the times when he first started dancing as a B-Boy with Prompto, which he gladly takes inspiration from and throws some old moves into his routines. Classy and fun. A good combination.

#stephic writings #headcanons #final fantasy xv #ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #noctis #prompto #ignis #gladiolus #ballroom dancer au #SELF-INDULGENT HEADCANONS!#because i've been watching too many of these dancing with the stars videos #oops

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jjbaconsumedmysoul · 7 years ago

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Hello, thank u for creating this wonderful blog and posting some amazing work!! If ur still taking requests, could u pleeeeaaase do a continue for the Rohan fic u did, if it's not too much to ask for? :)

Rohan x Reader continuation: “Perfect.”

You fidgeted restlessly with your skirts as you stared at the door. It had been several minutes since he had called out “Just a second!” From his studio window. In all likelihood, he had forgotten that he even asked you out to dinner that night, maybe he had been right in the middle of the next chapter when you showed up on his doorstep. And now he was probably scrambling to get ready. However, as soon as the door swung open, your thoughts completely turned on their head.

He was so handsome, so stunning, as stepped out in front of you. He wore a dark blue tailcoat, lined with a glittering gold. His bow tie and headband were gold as well, and, as ridiculous as the outfit looked altogether, god he looked good. He skirted to the side to usher you in, and you noticed his slightly flustered expression (not that your own face wasn't red at the sheer sight of him).

“G-good evening Rohan.” You tiptoed inside, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek before he shut the door behind you. He gasped as he turned to face you, his fingers absentmindedly pressed against the spot your lips had brushed against. His mouth hung open for just a second before he hastened to smooth down his suit and clear his throat.

“No need for such formalities.” He tugged at his sleeve nervously, inspecting his golden pen nib cufflinks. You felt extremely underdressed for the occasion, but little did you know the surprises he had in store for you that evening. “If you don't mind, umm,” His cheeks flushed an even darker red, if possible. It wasn't like him to get this worked up over something so trivial, but then again, it wasn't trivial to him. And it wasn't trivial to you either. But something was just so adorable about his unusual nervousness. “I have a gift that you might like to wear tonight,”

Your heart leapt in your chest. This was what you loved about him: he was so devoted, so passionate. As soon as he set his mind to something he would complete it without fail to the best of his abilities. And his abilities were remarkable.

You nodded shyly, not really knowing what else to say.

His face suddenly lit up at your affirmation, and he led you through the house, up to his bedroom. Of course, you had been in that bedroom several times before, but your pulse still raced at the implications of him inviting your into his room… it was so intimate a gesture. But of course he paid no mind to things like that as he opened the closet.

You gasped as he pulled out a long garment bag. His nimble fingers pulled down the zipper to reveal the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life:

The gown glittered in the warm rays of sun piercing through the window. Its skirts sparkled in golds and silvers, and the bust was adorned with several small white crystals. You noticed it matched Rohan’s suit almost perfectly. You held your hand to your mouth in shock; you felt like you might actually cry.

“It’s so beautiful,” he held it out to you with a smug grin.

“Of course it is, I designed it.” Thoughts raced through your mind: did he design it… just for you? He couldn't have. But then, would it even fit– when did he even have to time to design and commission and… How long had this been sitting in his closet with a perfect suit to match it?

But all you could utter was a small:

“Rohan…”

He seemed to be taking quite some pride in your amazement as he thrust it into your hands.

“Put it on!”

You had somehow zipped up the back on your own, and you carefully adorned the earrings he had provided for you. The necklace, however, would be hard to fasten.

He gasped as you opened the door to reveal yourself. His gaze ran up and down your body as his fingers twitched.

“It looks,” he fumbled through his pocket desperately, drawing out a pen and a small sketch pad. “It's remarkable,” his fingers trembled as his ink flew furiously over the paper.

“I, umm, thank you,” you could barely believe that you managed to pull off the dress, but the idea that such a great mangaka thought you looked beautiful… It must be flattery. However, lying to you wouldn't benefit him any way. Did he really find you “remarkable”?

Suddenly, you remembered.

“Rohan,” you inched towards him shyly, holding the small velvet box in your hand. “I just need a bit of help with this,” his face grew pink as he hurriedly put away the sketch pad.

“Of course, of course,”

You shuddered as his gloved hand turned your back to him. He lifted your hair from the back of your neck, and you felt like you would almost dissolve into a puddle right then and there. The chilly golden chain pressed to your neck as the crystals draped over your chest. Slowly, you turned to face him. He was so close, his breath tickling your nose as his fingers slowly tilted your chin upwards. His thumb delicately brushed over your lower lip the air caught on your lips throat.

Gently, he leaned in for a soft kiss. Your palms hit his firm chest as you leaned into his touch. He seemed so hesitant as his lips barely brushed against yours, almost like a careful stroke of his ink on paper.

And within an instant, his warmth was gone, Your eyes fluttered open, to see his equally amazed expression. He slowly gulped as you two gazed into each other’s eyes for just a moment. But his face grew heated, and he looked away as he began to stutter.

“I made reservations for 7:00, we should probably leave soon,” he grabbed your hand as he led you down the stairs.

You giggled as he profusely apologised for not hiring a limousine to drive you to the restaurant, but assured him that his sleek convertible Ferrari was quite alright.

“It’s perfect Rohan, you’ve done enough already.” You chuckled as you shook your head. “You’ve done too much.” His grip seemed to tighten on the steering wheel, and you realised what you said may have sounded wrong. His voice seemed defensive and almost fearful as he responded.

“I… I just... I want to give you the best. I want you to know how much–”

“No, Rohan, that’s not what I meant.” dammit, it was so hard to talk to him about this. “I’m so thankful Rohan. For everything you’ve done for me.”

Things loosened up when you arrived at the restaurant. He looked so refined as he graciously pulled the chair out for you, and you carelessly joked:

“Did someone finally teach you some manners?” His face twitched a bit as he sat down before you. He nervously drew his finger along the tablecloth, as if he were sketching something with his bare fingertip. You sensed his uneasiness at your question.

“I had to research,” His confession was quiet as he looked away embarrassedly, “I wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you,” Your chest tightened at those words. He was so adorable, so naïve in a way. He knew he loved you, but he didn’t know how to express that love. The lavish gifts, the jewels and gowns and roses he had given you on the way. Slowly, you reached your hand over the table, and he looked up at you as you clasped his fidgeting fingers.

“It’s okay,” His eyes widened at your words as you stroked his knuckles soothingly. “Rohan, you’ve done so much for me already: the outfit, the dinner, you…” You smiled as that fluttery feeling ran through your heart once again. “But, it doesn’t have to be perfect.” You chuckled. “Rohan, just be yourself, just do what you normally do. Then it will be perfect.”

He seemed uncertain at first, almost confused by your words. But with a quick glance at your fingers, and a deep breath, he seemed to regain his confident nature.

The evening proceeded almost as all your meetings with him went: you talked of art and manga and the most recent Pink Dark Boy. He told you of all his ideas, and you told him of your own interpretations. The only difference was the elegant attire, the romantic lighting, the decadent meal. And altogether, it was the best night you ever had.

He grinned triumphantly as you gushed over the delicious dessert before you.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life!”

“Of course. Nothing less than the best my muse,” Your face heated at the statement, as did his. He was seemingly caught off guard by the fact he had said anything at all. You giggled.

“Am I really your “muse”?” you teasingly nudged his knee underneath the table, and he nervously wiped his mouth with the napkin and swallowed before continuing.

“No. I mean, sometimes. Just…” He rubbed the back of his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. “A little.” Knowing Rohan, this probably was as much of a confession you would get out of him for a while. You took a shaky breath as you looked down at the floor.

“I love you too, Rohan.” He looked up at you, and your eyes locked yet again. There was something so comforting about that silence between you, just looking at him. Knowing all you had been through together, knowing that he listened to you and you listened to him.

The drive back was almost completely quiet. All you could hear was the faint chirp of crickets and the cool night breeze blowing your hair from your face. And all you could feel was his hand on yours. He refused to let go, even when you told him he should probably focus on driving. But he liked feeling the warmth of your fingers in his.

You assured him it would be fine if he just dropped you off at his house. You could change back into your everyday clothes, walk back to your apartment. But he insisted you keep the gown, that you would collect your clothes next time you came to watch him draw. He stubbornly pulled up to your apartment, and you giggled realising how perfect everything seemed; he must have researched proper dating protocol quite a bit.

“(Y/n),” he lifted his other hand from the steering wheel as he turned to face you in the seat. His eyes didn’t meet yours as he inspected your fingers in his. You didn’t want the night to be over, you didn’t want to leave him, you didn’t want him to simply kiss you goodnight and send you inside. “I really enjoyed tonight,” His grip around your hands tightened as he looked up into your eyes. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m supposed to,” You giggled slightly, but remained fully engaged in his words, in his beautiful emerald eyes. “I didn’t expect to have have such… To actually enjoy myself. It was all supposed to be for you.” Your palm raised slowly to his cheek. You couldn’t help but admire every detail of his expression: the frustration and vulnerability, the confusion, the wonder, the amazement. There were so many beautiful things wrapped inside that one man…

“Kiss me,” You didn't expect the words to slip from your tongue, and neither did he. But within an instant, his lips collided with yours. His arms slid around your waist as he pressed you backwards, and you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself. He wasn’t gentle like before. He was ravenous, thirsty for your touch as he sucked desperately at your lips. His torso pressed you down to the seat, and you squeaked as his chest squeezed up against your breasts. He moaned as your fingers began to slide through his hair, and his own fingers grasped desperately at the dress he designed.

His tongue slowly slid its way into your mouth as you shivered in response to the passionate rhythm. You tilted your head, parting your lips as you pulled him closer. Somehow, he had forced you down until you lay horizontal in the leather seat as he loomed over you, nibbling your lips as if he would never get the chance again. Your hands slid along his arms, feeling those strong muscles even through the thick satin of his suit.

Suddenly, he pulled away, gasping for breath as your lips broke free from each other. His face was filled with surprise, which he quickly masked with an expression of… whatever it was, you were still able to tell how he felt.

“Rohan,” You whispered as you dragged your fingers through his surprisingly soft locks. You bit your lip. You knew what you wanted: what you should say and do to get what you want. But you still felt scared. Your thumb stroked along his lower lip as you admired his face. “I don’t want to go back to my apartment.” You pulled his head close to whisper into his ear. “Not without you.”

You were both a bit scared, a bit inexperienced (though he would never admit it of course) as you slowly shut the door of your bedroom. You gasped, feeling his arms wrap around you from behind. His lips softly pressed to your flesh as you craned your neck back, melting into his embrace. He sucked at your sensitive skin as you smiled and shuddered. It might leave a mark in the morning, but right now, he was the one that filled your thoughts.

You turned, your fingers hesitantly pulling at his bowtie. His breaths became shaky as he tugged it off, tossing it to the floor. You were a bit alarmed at his careless treatment of the expensive suit as he proceeded throw off his jacket at a frightening rate.

“Rohan,” He abruptly cupped your face in his hands as he stared deep into your eyes.

“(Y/n), are you sure?” You blinked at him blankly, wanting to say yes, but so mesmerised by his features. “Because as soon as I start,” He sighed as he looked down at the floor. He wrapped his arms around your waist as your noses slowly touched. “Dammit,” he whispered. “I’ve been waiting so long. I don’t know why. Why I think about you so often, why all I want to do is be at your side.” He shuddered “Why I have these thoughts about you. I won’t hold back, (y/n).”

Your heart was pounding against his as your stomach twisted in knots.

“You’d better not,”

His lips quickly pressed against yours in a firm passionate kiss before he began to trail his kisses down your neck. Both your hands and his tugged desperately at his dress shirt, as he nipped your collarbone viciously. A small squeal escaped your lips as you were shoved to the wall, and he sucked hard at that one sensitive spot as you melted into the support. You giggled as he playfully licked your collarbone, before pulling back to remove his undershirt. It was then that you asked him sheepishly.

“Rohan, could you help me with the…” You gestured to your earrings, your necklace, the back of your dress. But you were struck silent as he nodded in compliance.

Though you quite often saw those abs through his slightly ridiculous but altogether alluring crop tops, seeing him before you right now, knowing that he was doing this all for you. He smiled smugly as your eyes focused on his bare torso.

Slowly, he removed your earrings, placing each on on the dresser beside you. You gasped as his lips grazed the spot just below your ear. His hands slid down your shoulders as his kisses trailed to the back of your neck. He undid the clasp of your necklace before setting it to the side. And then, the zipper. His dexterous fingers slowly drew the zipper down your back, and you gasped, feeling the fabric loosening around your chest. You gasped, as the dress finally slid to the floor, the chill of the air brushing against your exposed breasts as you instinctively wrapped your arms to hide your body. You heard a shudder from behind you, a metallic zip, fabric dropping to the floor, and curled inwards almost at the new vulnerability of your situation.

You shrieked in surprise. He had suddenly picked you up into his arms and thrown you into the bed. You lay exposed, your hands gripping the sheets at your sides as he stared down hungrily at your bare breast. He was wearing nothing but his briefs and his headband as he slowly crawled on top of you. You had to fight to tear your eyes away from the growing bulge in between his legs. It was larger even than you had imagined it in your fantasies.

His lips met yours again, but only briefly as he pecked you again and again, mumbling breathlessly through the kisses “I...love...you...dammit,” His teasingly trailed his tongue down your neck, along your collarbone as your fingers slid down his sinewy back. He licked around your bust as you shuddered, feeling your core heat with his every touch. You gasped as nipped your nipple hand groped your other breast, pressing his thumb into the most sensitive part.

“Rohan,” You squeaked as you ran your fingers through his hair. He smirked as he continued kissing the tip of your teat, his pelvis grinding against you as you moaned. He squeezed your breast harder as his other hand crept down your stomach, almost tickling you. You sighed as his fingers ghosted across your clit. It was so slight, so gentle through the fabric separating you, but you couldn’t help but groan. “More, Rohan.”

He chuckled maliciously as his kisses trailed down your stomach, both hands clutching desperately at your chest as his lips neared their goal. You could do nothing but tangle your fingers in his hair as he smiled at the elastic of your panties.

He spread your legs, admiring the already wet fabric between your legs, smug as always. Slowly, he kissed the inside of your thigh, growing more aroused than ever at the sounds escaping your lips. As his fingers teased your clit, his lips slipped ever so closer to your entrance, sucking harshly at the flesh as you mewled underneath him. He tickled the lips of your swollen sex through the drenched cloth and you moaned out his name yet again. He couldn’t take it any longer, you were just so beautiful laying there.

His fingers fumbled with the elastic on your panties as he tore them down your hips. He gently spread your thighs as his kisses met your core. You writhed as his tongue slowly lapped at your entrance, as he devoured the soft flesh. His fingers slid up and down your sides as he gingerly sucked your clit, and all sorts of inappropriate sounds escaped your lips. Your body seemed to tingle in anticipation as he ravished your outside, desirous for him to ravish your insides as well.

“Rohan,” You muttered through your shaky breaths. “I’m ready,” He slowly pulled away, both of you admiring each other's beautiful bodies as he stepped from the bed to remove his briefs. You bit your lip at the sight, trying not to be too loud, as you had already been so vocal already. But he saw your struggle and a grin painted his face.

“I love it when you say my name,” He crawled over you, and you tried to keep your composure.

“Of course you do you damn narcissist,” You both chuckled as his hard length loomed over your entrance. But he continued, teasing you with the delay of release.

“I love it when you sigh, when you moan, when you cry out,” Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as his face neared yours. “You’re so beautiful, so real.” Too much. Too much teasing, too much playing. You wanted him.

“Don’t hold back.”

His eyes grew eager as he nodded.

Slowly, he thrust into your core. You gasped, your back arching as you gripped at the sheets, feeling your walls expand at his girth slid into you entirely. Your breaths grew rapid along with your pounding heart as he gave a slight groan of surprise. Your fingers removed themselves from the sheets, instead grasping desperately at his shoulders. Your eyes fluttered open to see his hesitant smile as he gazed down at your figure beneath him.

He began the gentle rhythm, rocking in and out of your entrance as you sighed. His length filled you completely as he bucked into your hips. The sounds of his moans were music to your ears as the pace quickened. You tensed, his erection pounding in deeper and deeper as his palms cupped your breasts. He gradually began to thrust harder, and you gasped as he pinched your nipples playfully.

“You’re still… so… beautiful.” He whispered with each movement as he leaned down, his lips inches from your ear. You gasped as he tweaked your nipples again. Kissing your neck as the sensations continued to build. “(Y/n)... I love… You”

“Rohan!” His name tumbled from your lips as you felt your entire body begin to tighten. Your muscles contracted, your walls clenched around his throbbing length as your back arched in sheer ecstasy. You felt the blood pumping through your veins, the fire raging throughout your body as cried out in sweet bliss.

His lips came to yours once again in a deep, passionate, if sloppy, kiss. Everything released all at once as you felt a warmth fill your core. He panted, sighed slid out of you before falling on the mattress at your side.

Your breaths began to slow as you turned your head to face him. You just couldn’t pull your eyes from that wonderful man: the talented artist, the smug narcissist, the adorable and naïve idiot. His finger traced the outline of his face as he stared back at you. Slowly, he brought his lips to yours. You wanted to kiss him again and again and again, but he pulled away to admire you.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was different than drawing, different than writing. But it was just as amazing. You were just as amazing. He had no idea how this was possible, how just one person could transform him into a bumbling idiot. How he could transform that one person into a groaning and moaning mess. But he loved it. He loved all of it. He loved you, and that was all that mattered. As long as he was with you, everything would be perfect.

*thank u for this amazing ask!!! Ugh I’m kind of insanely in love with this idiot manga man (^_^) uuuuuugh I was so excited to write for him again!!!!

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