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tarabyte3 · 2 years ago

Text

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 10/27 (4.5k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, light choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst, orgasm denial

A/N: Prepare yourselves for this chapter. There's a reason it took me an extra day, and not just because it's the longest one yet. I'm sure you will all understand how I suffered when you read it. 🥵 Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "Fly" by Bloodwitch. Previous chapter links up above. I also got smart and am going to pin the most recent chapters as I post them. I swear I'm getting better at Tumblr, guys.

AO3 Link

Chapter 10 - I'm waiting for your lips to bring me round, my life's shame and sorrow falling back

After the foundation for operation get the kid laid is, well, laid, you excuse yourself to head back to your cell. Because the later it gets, the more distracted you find yourself, which makes you poor company. Now there's less than twenty minutes, and what if he decides to show up early? The one time you aren't there! He'll never be early again to teach you a lesson or as punishment. Then you'll have to—oh no. Oh god…you're pathetic, aren't you?

You want to please him and fuck him so badly, it's completely rewired your brain. He's all you can think about. You like to hope that once you finally do, you'll be able to at least regain some focus. But if you're being honest, it might actually make your Kino brain worse because you'll have to carry the very real knowledge of what it's like around instead of fantasy. Then you'll know exactly what you're waiting for every day or missing out on when you don't have his hands on you. God, this is going to be a long twenty minutes.

You know for a fact you've never been this possessed by a man before. And you know exactly why: not a single one of your flings or previous short-lived boyfriends had EVER recognized what you needed the way Kino did almost immediately. Even when you yourself didn't understand it or had been ashamed of wanting it, he'd known exactly how to turn you into a horny wreck with one grab. All the others had been straight to the point, minimal foreplay, "did you come?", roll over and go to sleep. Now that was pathetic.

You make sure to stop and give Taybus a double thumbs up and then shoo him to go down the hall himself on your way back. And shout, "You're an idiot!" after him. Otherwise you are a woman driven by need. You don't let anyone get the opportunity to talk or stop you before you reach your destination. Head down, feet forward.

Edii must have seen you rushing back from above in his cell, though. Because shortly after you sit down on your bed, he peeks his head around the wall, gives you his own thumbs up—which is a new mannerism he picked up from the rest of you—but doesn't say anything, and is gone. You really do have the best fucking table in the whole prison.

You get a bit lost thinking about how close you've all gotten. You try to pinpoint the moment things clicked for you at the table and away from it. But there wasn't any one significant event. It happened in small moments. Jokes, triumphs, small admissions about yourselves. Even you getting into trouble. They all built one rather dysfunctional found family. In prison.

The reflection is enough of a distraction that Kino's voice from inside the doorway startles you.

"Should I be worried that you were clearly plotting something and now you're so lost in thought you didn't see me?"

"Kino!" You jump to a sitting position. "Has it been twenty minutes already?!" You look around confused for the clock face on your wall panel.

"I'm early, actually." He moves over to stand closer to the bed.

"You are?" You ask in astonishment.

"I am." He reaches out for you, to pull you to your feet, and you go willingly. His hands find your hips and you rest yours on his shoulders. It reminds you of dancing in your youth and you wonder if he likes to dance. If he would enjoy flirting and swaying with you in the low light of a cantina until the early hours of the morning. If he would give you his jacket and wrap an arm around you as you walk home. Maybe stop to press you against the wall of a building and kiss you until you're breathless.

Fuck.

You clear your throat and push that thought as far down as it will go into your subconscious. "I'm a little surprised! I always hope you might show up early, but I know how you love to make me wait."

He leans in slowly with a grin. "I know." Then he gives you a kiss that is soft and leisurely. Nothing more than a gentle meeting of your lips. It's nice, even as desire begins to coil in your belly once more.

When he pulls away, you give a content sigh. "Well, now I am very pleasantly surprised."

"Good." Then he's staring at you expectantly. "Now, you wanna tell me what that was all about earlier?"

"What what was all about?" You give him an innocent look.

"Try again." His voice lowers.

"Okay, fine. I'm not supposed to, but it's you and who are you going to tell?" He narrows his eyes at you and your own eyes widen in alarm. "I meant that as a compliment, I swear to god."

"Sure," he huffs. "Continue."

"Alis and I are trying to get Taybus a boyfriend. Or at least get him laid."

He sighs and removes one of his hands so he can rub the bridge of his nose. "I should be actively discouraging this."

"Oh come on, there's nothing else to do in here! And I can say with complete certainty that getting some is a huge boost for morale." You press your hips against him and run a finger down his chest.

"If you're trying to distract me, it's not going to work." He frowns.

You tilt your head. "Really? I can't distract you?" You trail your finger lower to his stomach. He shivers with a groan, but still manages to reach between you and grab your wrist in a vice-like grip. It stings.

"When I finally get your mouth on me, it won't be because you're trying to distract me." He growls. "It will be because you begged for it."

And just like that, you've fallen for your own distraction because any thought you had before what he just said is completely gone.

"Fuck, Kino," you whisper.

"You're also getting very close to talking back. Did you want to miss out on my mouth that badly?"

"No!" You cry out. "I was just teasing, I'm sorry. I'll behave." You pout at him, and he releases your wrist.

"Good." He cups your jaw to stroke your cheek with his thumb. "Because I want to taste you just as much as you want to come from my tongue."

You melt against him with a barely audible, needy whine and your eyes become heavy lidded as you look up at him. "I haven't stopped thinking about it all day."

"Is that so?" Without warning, he slips his hand between you, nudges past the waistband of your pants, and his fingers find their way straight to your arousal. You gasp and loll your head back as he teases your wet opening with his finger. "All day like this?"

You nod in a daze.

"You poor creature," he leans in to brush his lips against yours. "Let's see if we can ease your suffering." He removes his hand from your pants and tilts your chin up so you're looking into his face. "Sit on the bed."

You obediently, if a little off balance, take a small step back with your arm behind you to feel for your mattress. You know you're making it more difficult for yourself, but you can't take your eyes off him. After you're seated, he steps to stand directly in front of you. You finally look away from his face when your eyes are drawn down to the tent in his pants from his very prominent erection. The only thing you want more than his mouth on you at that moment is to feel him, hard and pulsing in your hand.

"Can I…" You hold your hand out to hover over the bulge at the front of his pants. "Can I touch you?" You hurry to clarify, "Over the uniform!"

He stares at you intently as he considers it. You can see his shoulders rise and fall with deep, even breaths.

"Seems dangerous." He finally replies, his voice strained and husky.

"I'll stop when you tell me too." You give him a pleading look. "I just want to feel you."

He's silent for another moment and you brace yourself for a no, but then he gives you a curt nod and your heart starts racing. You tentatively close the few inches of distance between your palm and his arousal, and both of you gasp at the contact. They don't give you underclothes. Which has always bothered you, up until this very moment when the only thing between his thick length and your hand is a thin layer of cloth.

You give him a gentle squeeze, as if you're trying to wrap your hand around him, to get a feel for him in your grasp, and he moans above you. You savor the sound for a moment, enjoying the fact that you can draw it out of him. Then you run your cupped hand over his hardness and feel the contour and outline of him, which earns you a heady, strangled groan from his throat. You glance up to see his face grim with intense concentration. It almost seems like he's in agony from your touch, and you know, despite the depth of his willpower, he's also been teased by your meetings and left wanting. That he also aches for his release—for you—and it's a powerful act of will not to give in right there.

"I want this," you whisper up to him. " I want to stroke you and wrap my lips around you so badly. I need it." The movement of your hand speeds up. "Let it be tomorrow. Please. I want to make you come," you beg.

His hand shoots out to grab yours and you think he's going to stop your exploration of him, but he covers you with his palm and drags your hand up his length. He grunts as the pressure runs over the sensitive head, and you feel him throb against you. You give him another little squeeze and his hips buck forward into your hand.

"I think we can do that," he says in a low rumble. You nod, and he does remove your hand from him then. "But first, you. Take off your pants."

Your hands automatically find your waistband and he watches as you lift up off the bed to try to push your pants over of your hips. You struggle getting them out from under your ass because he's too close for you to lean forward or get any of the leverage you need, but he doesn't move to help or make it easier on you, either. He's enjoying it. Loves making you squirm. You wiggle side to side, a little exaggerated for his benefit, to inch them down until they're free. Then you slide them off your legs and they finally drop to the floor. He immediately glances down to your bare thighs and the thatch of hair in your lap. You blush at the blatant hunger already on his face, even though your legs are still closed. Without looking, he toes your pants off to the side and out of his way.

"Slide over," he orders.

He guides you with a hand on your hip until you're in the alcove at the end of your bed. The ceiling is low enough that you can't properly straighten up without your head touching. He kneels on the bench in front of you.

"Now I want you to flip over so you're on your hands and knees."

Your heart skips a beat as you realize he wants you on display for him. That he doesn't want you to see, he just wants you to feel. You shakily push yourself up to turn over and do as you're told.

"Very good." His hand moves to your back and feels its way up to the spot between your shoulder blades, dragging your shirt with him so it's hiked up to your waist. He presses down, then, forcing you to lower to your forearms so your bottom half is sticking up in the air. "Spread your legs wider for me."

Once again, you silently obey. You can sense just how exposed and open you are now. If anyone were to walk down there, they would get a very full view of all of you facing straight at the hallway. The thought makes you flush in shame and arousal. He sits down once you're in the position he wants so that he's eye level with your sex. You glance back at him. One leg is bent in front of him on the bench, and the other is hanging over the side with his foot on the floor, as if he's casually sitting for a chat and not to fuck you with his tongue.

You want to feel irritated at how collected he is. Then he touches you. Just a light skim of his fingers on the back of your thigh, but you startle. You're wound up and taut with anticipation so any attention is electric on your skin. He lets out a deep, husky chuckle.

"Tense, are we?"

"Can you blame me?" You whine and you try to stick your hips even further in his direction.

"No. I suppose I can't." He lets his hand wander over your thighs, your ass cheeks, letting it dip closer towards that aching spot between your legs, but not too close. Not yet. "I've been thinking about this all day, too. You're quite the lovely sight."

You begin to squirm, desperate for any friction or touch where you need it. He puts a forceful hand on your hip.

"Hold still," he growls. You let out a grunt of protest, but he sighs in fake exasperation. "Patience. The more you move around, the longer this will take." He then lets his hand trail closer, up your inner thigh, and you freeze. You're hoping that holding still will earn you more. He gives you a pleased hum and rewards you by tracing a fingertip around the mound of your sex, then along the bend of your groin, teasing you with proximity.

"Kino," you give a frustrated huff, unable to continue being patient, "please!"

"Please what?" He kisses the spot where your thigh meets the swell of your cheeks.

"Please touch me!" You beg, your voice desperate.

"Isn't that what I'm doing?"

"You know what I mean!" You jut your hips back a little to encourage him, but don't get very far with his hand on your hip.

"But I'm admiring you." He drags the back of his knuckle across your folds as you let out a helpless whine. "And how wet you are."

Suddenly, you realize you can feel his breath against you and it's the only warning you get before he swipes his tongue up your slit. You bury your face into your folded arms to stifle a loud moan.

"Hmm. Maybe patience is overrated. I think I like it better when you beg."

"Then for the love of God," you plead, "put your mouth on me, please! I'll be so good, I promise. Please, Kino, I need you."

He licks you again, but instead of pulling away, he begins rubbing his tongue along your folds, and you bite down on your arm to keep from crying out. His hands shift from holding your hip and teasing, to gripping your ass. His thumbs massage your lips further open and hold you there as he laps into your entrance.

"Exactly like that," he growls against the heat of your arousal. Then his mouth moves lower and his tongue runs firmly over your clit.

"Yes! There, please," you sob. You want to turn and see him, but you're trembling so hard, you can barely hold yourself up. And you don't want to risk shifting his attention even for a second. Not when he's so close to focusing exactly where you need it.

"Since you said please." Then his mouth latches over your clit and he's working you with this tongue and lips. You're back to biting and muffling your wailing into your forearm.

You can feel the scruff of his beard occasionally brush your groin and thighs as his jaw moves, and it sends goosebumps up your back and down your legs. His prominent nose is pressed just inside your opening, and it nudges into you and teases you every time he shifts the angle of his mouth. It shouldn't feel as incredible as it does, but you can feel every exhale against your quivering sex. And god, how can even his nose be so fucking sexy? And the sound. It's wet and slick and filthy every time he moves his mouth.

Occasionally he releases your swollen clit from his lips to sweep his tongue over you and tease you with his fingers, but eventually he returns to continue driving you mad. An itch starts at the back of your skull and heat pools in your belly as your climax edges closer under his ministrations.

He must sense it in the way your legs are quaking and how you press back onto his mouth and nose because he releases you with another drag of his tongue.

"Flip back over," he commands, husky and breathless, and oh god that mouth was just on you.

You immediately maneuver so you can gracelessly roll over, and you're too far gone to care how ridiculous you might look. The bed isn't wide enough for you to lie down flat on your back. Instead, you lean against the wall, your ass at the edge of the bed. He directs your knees back and hanging open so your hips are tilted and your sex is exposed to him again. And you're propped up for a perfect view of all of it.

You also finally get to see his face. He's flushed, his pupils are so dilated that it makes his blue eyes look darker, his hair is mused, and the entire lower half of his face is glistening with your juices. His nose, his beard, his chin, his swollen lips.

"God, Kino," you whimper. You know your own face is flushed, your hair is a mess from burying your face and muffling your cries, and your eyes are watery from nearly weeping in pleasure. He briefly meets your eyes and licks his lips.

Before you can react to that, he's bending forward and his mouth is on you again and his tongue is plunging inside of you. Now you can see his lips and jaw move over you. How his rough cheek brushes against your sensitive skin as he nuzzles your folds. You can stare down into his eyes and see the lust and hunger in them as he looks back up at you, watching your face as he works you with his mouth. Then when his tongue pulls out to lick up your slit as he makes his way back to your clit, you can see his tongue on you as well. Not just feel it. It's an entirely different and fucking erotic experience.

Because you're watching Kino Loy absolutely devour your pussy.

And you're definitely not going to last very long.

Within moments, your legs begin to shake again. You hook your hands under your knees to hold yourself still for him, to keep yourself from thrashing.

"I'm so close," you whine, and he groans against you. The sound of it vibrates through your core, and then you're undone. You sit up and grab the back of his head to hold him in place as your orgasm takes you. Your hips roll uncontrollably, driven by the need to ride each wave against his mouth. He continues to make little noises of satisfaction onto your clit, and each one causes you to gasp and shudder.

When you finally slump back onto the bed, your shoulders and head thumping into the wall, he quickly sits up. Then he presses his hand on the bulge of his erection, and closes his eyes to take a few deep, calming breaths.

"Did you…?" You pant and nod to his hand.

"No. But it was a near thing." His voice sounds strangled.

"You can, you know." You whisper. "You can touch yourself if you want to." You pull your legs up and put your feet on either side of your hips, putting yourself back on display for him. He stares hard at the mess he made of you, his shoulders heaving as he begins to breathe heavily, and you know he's really considering it. "You can touch me and come. Or just look. Wherever or how ever you want."

He clenches his jaw.

"You're going to fucking kill me," he growls, and lunges at you. He grabs your hips and hauls your lower half at an angle to make room on the mattress. Then he's between your legs and hovering over you like he was last night, but this time you're not wearing pants. So when he presses against your still tender flesh, you feel the outline of him with much sharper relief.

He ruts against you a few times before grabbing a fistful of your hair and wrenching your head back. You cry out in surprise, which turns into a moan when his lips find your neck. He kisses and grunts against your skin while he continues to thrust. You can feel him leaving smudges of your own wetness behind.

"After feeling you clench and throb on my fingers and tongue, I can't wait to feel you to come on my cock." He bites the side of your neck, and you're already too breathless from his voice and the sensation between your legs to make a sound. "I want to fuck you so badly. Do know how hard it is to say no to you when you offer yourself like that?"

"Yes," you sob.

"Because you do it on purpose!" He snarls. "I should get up and walk out of here." He stops and you're terrified he might, but he just adjusts his knees for a better angle. Then he's dragging his erection over you again and tightening his grip in your hair. "But you make me weak."

He gives one last, hard thrust and tenses, frozen with pleasure, as he finally finds his release against you. You can feel his length pulse where it's pressed along your entrance. Then he slowly rocks through his climax, groaning and gasping at every slide over his now sensitive member.

Once his hips stop, he collapses on top of you. You can feel his heart pounding where his chest rests over yours, and where your heart is also pounding. Twin heartbeats, you think. Like binary stars, bound and endlessly drawn towards one another until they're destined to merge—or to destroy each other.

It's quiet. Both of you are reeling and panting, trying to find the words to say after that. He releases your hair, then runs his fingers gently though it, soothing your burning scalp.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks quietly.

"Yes," you whisper back, "but not in a way I didn't enjoy."

He lets out a sigh of relief and pushes himself to his hands to look down at you. His face is partially wiped clean, and you know it's because most of it is now on your neck.

"Do you regret it?" You can't stop your worry from sleeping through.

"No," he says fiercely. "Never."

"Good," you sigh, also relieved now. "Because I sure don't."

"My knees might tomorrow," he grumbles, and you burst out laughing. What little tension had been there dissipates and leaves you able to relax and bask in your afterglow. He pushes himself off of you and you stretch out on the bed, letting your hips relax and getting your thighs to unclench after being tense for so long.

"Well, I feel incredible."

"Good."

You lazily look him over while he's standing there and stretching out his own tight muscles. That's when you notice the fabric at the front of his pants has become damp with a mixture of both of you, and you are absolutely enthralled by the way it clings to him. And by the fact that its become a little…translucent. You can see the vague suggestion of the hair on his groin and the outline of his softening member.

"Um. Kino?" You sit up and hang your feet over the side of your bed." Maybe you should change into my pants before you go back." You nod to his crotch.

He looks down to see what you're referring to and swears. "Wouldn't that just leave you with a mess?"

"Yeah, but it will be dry by the time I have to leave in the morning." You stand up to give him a kiss. "I can handle the mess to save you your dignity." You glance down at his lap again. "As impressive as it is." His cheeks redden, and you're absolutely pleased with yourself because you got Kino to have an orgasm and blush all in the same night.

You don't want to add that you don't have to be talked into being able to curl up with his lingering scent in your bed as you sleep. Or being driven slightly wild with his release rubbing against your crotch…even though that might become less appealing as it dries.

"Okay," he relents. You hand him your one size smaller, but dry pants, and turn to give him privacy. Behind you there is the sliding of fabric and then his pants are tossed onto your bed. You resist peeking, but it's very difficult to know he's half nude a foot back and out of your line of sight. Then there's more sliding of fabric as he redresses.

"Better?" You turn back to him.

"They're a little tight, but yes."

You nod. "Certainly leaves more to the imagination."

"You should get dressed, too. It's getting late. I'm surprised people aren't heading back yet."

"Hmm. Fair point." You quickly get into his wet pants, but you're giggling at the thought by the time they're pulled up.

"What's so funny?" He frowns.

"It's terrible," you warn, "but I was realizing I'm finally getting into your pants." You grin at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, but there's a hint of amusement on his face. "I can see what you mean by leaving little to the imagination. Not that I have to try very hard anymore."

"Cruel." You pout.

"Well, there's always tomorrow night." He pulls you in for one last, deep kiss. You keep your hips pulled back so you don't rub against him and ruin the clean pants he's wearing, too.

"There is." You smile at him. "Now go before I decide to keep you here all night."

"Bit bossy, aren't we?" He huffs and heads towards the open doorway.

"And Kino!" You call after him, causing him to stop and look back at you. You run your hand along the front of his still damp pants and cup it between your legs, pressing the fabric against you. "Goodnight.'

He lets out a grunt of frustration, then hurries out and down the hall.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think you were starting to get to him.

A/N: There is no one on this Earth that could ever convince me that Andy Serkis doesn't have the perfect nose for that part of the scene. And now you're thinking about it too. You're welcome (because Andy Serkis is fucking sexy).

NEXT CHAPTER->

#andor fanfic #kino loy #kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #i want you to show me weak fic #andor #fanfiction

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writer-akihiko · 3 years ago

Note

Hello!

Can i request again?

So... Fluff really fluffy. Old Mc with Old warlords.

Please don't kill them. 😭

IkeSen Boys + Growing Old With MC

Note: The children of the warlords are taken from historical record, but please know that not all scenarios are accurate as I had named some children to fill in the children who were unnamed.

To be honest with you this is probably the longest ask I've ever done, over a period of 4 days of editing and characters so I hope you enjoy the fluffy family content! It's cut for length. Also... I couldn't add so many tags so please share it if you can!

Nobunaga Oda

You were excited for this particular day, since your oldest son, Nobutada was finally coming home from a skirmish he had settled. The Owari province was long handed over to your sons, as you and Nobunaga lived peacefully in the edges of Azuchi, away from the city.

You had waited a long time to see your children once again, although not all were in Azuchi. With 21 children in total, both adopted and from birth, most were of similar age. The only few that lived with you were your youngest daughters, Oushin and Ofuri who were adopted at the same time. Youngest was a stretch, considering they were both 19.

Your other warlord friends were due to visit soon, including Hideyoshi. Throughout your years, you never comprehended why no one interested Hideyoshi as a romantic partner. Although, your heart eased, remembering how Hideyoshi would care for your sons as if he were their own.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your husband, as he plopped next to you, taking in the serene view of the empty field. In his hand were a bag of konpeito. Hideyoshi would be angry, but you weren't so as you managed to control his candy-loving instincts. You took a few to nibble on yourself, as you leaned against your husband.

"What were you thinking of, my fireball?"

You hummed, wondering how to respond. "About the future perhaps?"

"Good," he said. "I've been thinking... I wouldn't change a thing. But..."

You leaned into him, tickling the hairs of his neck. He flinched away, peppering you in kisses in retaliation as he continued his thought. "I want to travel once again, with you."

"I won't say no... But why not travel for longer?"

The moment your friends gathered, you and your husband announced your decision. Your children were surprised but the older warlords weren't. Masamune also teased Nobunaga, saying how he grew tired of a tranquil life. It wasn't long before you contacted Motonari, and the Oda couple were due to sail to Portugal.

"My years with you gave me the greatest life, YN."

Hideyoshi Toyotomi

It was not long before the day of your 20th marriage anniversary with Hideyoshi, but you woke up to a missing husband. Hideyoshi, being the way that he is, never stopped working for Nobunaga. Years went by, and you and Hideyoshi had a family of two sons, Hideyori and Tsurumatsu.

Your oldest son, Tsurumatsu, welcomed you instead in the morning. Your oldest was the spitting image of Hideyoshi, except that he took your eyes. It was as if you were looking at a younger Hideyoshi, and you commented on it, "With a sword like that, you remind me of your father..."

Your son's attitude however, resembled Ieyasu more than anything. Well... Ieyasu was his favourite warlord uncle when growing up. Tsurumatsu denied any of the sort, and insisted he accompanied you around Azuchi. You were internally grateful that your sons took after your husband's gentleman-like attitude, although at times when living in an estate with all three, it could get overbearing...

As you looked over the local fabrics, your hands traced over a fabric that you thought would suit all three of your boys.

"Princess YN?"

"Lord Mitsuhide!" Your son quickly bowed to the other warlord, but Mitsuhide gave him the respect to get up. The sudden appearance of the two bachelors, one older than the other, caused an uproar of the unmarried women of the market. It got you to think why Mitsuhide never settled down...

Your trip with your son ended in the front gates, where your younger son Hideyori and your husband Hideyoshi stood. Hideyoshi welcomed you wholeheartedly.

Hideyoshi escorted you around town, and you held onto his arm as you did before, and you two reminisced about the memories you had in the town together.

"20 years married..." You muttered. "Time flies huh? The boys have the townswomen swooning over them just like you did back then..."

"I only had eyes for you, YN..." He said. You huffed, teasing him about how he was in denial about his feelings the entire time. Hideyoshi grew red at your teasing, with you pulling him down to your level, kissing him on the cheek.

"For these 20 years with me YN... Thank you for telling me to live and staying with me."

Mitsunari Ishida

Your life never slowed down despite Mitsunari's calm approach to life. It was a joyous occasion for the Ishida clan throughout the years as you and Mitsunari had a wonderfully, large family of you both and 6 children.

Mitsunari still worked under Hideyoshi, with your third son Sakichi following in his footsteps. The week was busy, with you preparing for two weddings for your second and third daughter.

All your 6 children followed in the steps of Mitsunari in terms of worshipping Ieyasu. It was so much so, that one of your son-in-laws was Senchiyo Tokugawa. The warlords were long gone with their aggressions, so you were surprised when Mitsunari and Ieyasu arranged Kennyo to officiate the marriage.

Kennyo had been a neutral force after the birth of your first son Shigenari, as he even offered to bless your child. Kennyo himself never settled down, but he focused on rebuilding the temples instead. Mitsunari was quite the supporter, but Hideyoshi let an insight that it meant a lot to him since before Mitsunari studied in a temple.

You and Mitsunari returned home after a long shopping trip with the two oldest sons, Shigenari and Shigeie. Mitsunari nowadays forgot his things more and more, but his hatred for carrots continued. Your sons disappeared somewhere else to eat their carrot snacks, as you sat with Mitsunari in his study.

"You've never changed, Mitsunari..." You said, preparing some tea for him.

He reached out to your own hand, helping you pour. "I'm sure I'm improving on my tea manners!"

The silence never settled between you two, as no matter how much time had passed, you two never ran out of topics to run out of. You comforted Mitsunari as he confessed how sullen he felt about your daughters leaving.

"If anything... YN, in my time with you... Thank you for marrying me."

Mitsuhide Akechi

You moved to Tanba permanently, and you gave up your rank as Princess. With Mitsuhide gone for his missions, you'd answer to the other warlords. Somehow, it lead you to the title of 'Lady Akechi'.

It wasn't long before your first daughter, Tama, was to come of age. Mitsuhide was a private man, so it was only to be held with the other warlords and your entire family. You and Mitsuhide had a small family, but they were equally cherished by the others.

Yoshimoto arrived at Tanba earlier than expected. You had become fast friends with him, despite Mitsuhide's dislike. You had reassured him multiple times that Yoshimoto had no interest in you, but at times you had questioned why Yoshimoto never married...

"Tama! Yoshimoto is here!" You called out for your daughter. She was most likely with your youngest daughter... Yoshimoto had agreed to come and help Tama put together her hair, with the accessories he had collected.

It was not long before your daughter was finished, and by that time Mitsuhide with your eldest son, Mitsuyoshi, returned. No matter how many people were in the estate, your husband kissed you on the cheek, as it was customary to do.

Mitsuyoshi made faces, but was silenced by his much more mature, younger sister. Yoshimoto was quick to escort the three siblings outside, where Kyubei was waiting to bring his Lord's family to Nobunaga's Castle.

"Mou... Mitsuhide, the children are waiting... It's Tama's day today..." You muttered, as he continued to kiss you.

"Our children are adults, YN..." He said, holding you close. "Let your husband indulge in you for one more kiss... For now, and all our coming years..."

Ieyasu Tokugawa

In celebration, you decided to throw a banquet for Ieyasu as he announced he was stepping down from work. It was lively at home, with 16 children and a small army of rescued deer over the year helping you to decorate the house. You and Ieyasu, besides the deer, adopted children over your 20 years of marriage who soon became close with your 6 biological children.

You hurried to prepare the grand hall, but before you could fully lift the box full of tapestries, it was quickly carried away.

"Mama... You're not allowed to carry heavy things anymore," A blond man told you off, as two other men carried the vases away.

"Nobuyasu... Ogimaru... Hidetada..." You smiled at your three eldest sons. Ah, your heart warmed at how considerate they've become. It made you feel like a proud mother... "You three returned from Kenshin's lessons?"

The gap between the Oda and Uesugi-Takeda forces closed, and Kenshin grew close to your family. He never had children of his own, so you were enthusiastic when Kenshin treated your eleven sons as his own, even taking some to learn the sword by him.

"Mama! Don't be distracted! Let us fix you up!"

From behind you, your five daughters swarmed you, wrapping you up in a cloth you sure you bought this week... and it was untrimmed...

"Tokuhime! I haven't trimmed that cloth!" You turned to your other daughters, who were also holding makeup paints and hairpins. "Kamehime! Ichihime! You don't have to throw your jewellery to get my attention!"

"Mou... Mama, Father will be so happy to see you dressed up~" Your third daughter, Furihime chimed.

Matsuhime, the fourth daughter, joined in. "Without our help, your kimono might be too old fashioned Mama..."

Oh... Things were lively with all your children back at home... Your sons finished decorating the hall, and as a token you decided to do your daughters' hair to match them to your hairstyle.

You were last to enter the hall, as the boys wanted to greet their father first. Your daughters entered next, and all Ieyasu saw through them was you, and the way you raised them made them blossom into the people they were today. When you entered... he swore he stopped breathing.

"YN... My wife..." Not much was said after, but the blush on his face was enough to show how much he loved it, as well as his hand gripping onto yours tracing every finger of it.

Masamune Date

You would like to think that your life grew much more peaceful, but with a chaotic husband like Masamune, and four equally chaotic children like him. The Date forces as a whole were also chaotic. It was safe to say that Lady Date was one who took care of them all, no matter how big or small.

It gave your husband the great idea of planning a surprise birthday party for you with his children. As a warlord, he was not Ishida Mitsunari but he could still plan a well thought-out strategy...

"Irohahime, Muuhime, you are to distract your mother at the market. Kojuro will give the signal when we're ready."

They nodded. "Yes Dad."

"Hidemune, Tadamune. You know when to start the fight," He reiterated.

"Yes Da-"

Ieyasu, who came earlier as a guest, spoke up. "Why am I a part of this?"

"YN will only break a fight if it involves people outside our family," Masamune explained, flexing his arm. "She knows we're tough as nails..."

Ieyasu Tokugawa remained a bachelor, although he never explained why he didn't. Masamune had a little bit of a hunch, but he isn't one to pry. Ieyasu was an undeniable favourite of his daughter Muuhime, who gained an affinity for medicine.

"Tough as nails?"

Your family was dumbfounded that you stepped in the decorated hall, with your husband and children, with Ieyasu in the corner with a bowl of spicy soup. Kojuro had kindly lead Lady Date into the hall, despite of the plan as no one in the Date palace dared to defy YN LN.

For a room full of adults, your family at the moment were not acting like one. It was typical, but you had to wonder what the fuss was all about. Tadamune, the closest to you, was someone who couldn't lie to you, and told you the truth. It ended quite simply, as you insisted to help prepare.

In the kitchen with Masamune brought back memories. The whole time you and your husband were cooking, you played around with the ingredients as you did back then.

"My wife... you have a little flour on your face. Should I wipe it with my fingers or..." He wrapped his arms your waist, brushing his lips on your ear. "Kiss it away myself?"

Ranmaru Mori

You and Ranmaru decided to leave the Oda forces once you both got married. Ranmaru was mainly the reason, as he wanted to keep a neutral stance for your safety.

Ranmaru grew much taller over the years, but he wasn't as towering as the other warlords. You didn't mind as much except for the period of measuring out new kimonos for him. You both lead a quaint life, with Ranmaru working as your courier for your sewing work.

You and Ranmaru never had any children of your own, instead opting to become foster parents to other children whose parents were in war efforts or children that were orphaned from incidents.

Many children came and went, some of them leaving and never returning but there were the few that stayed. Ranmaru was still actively talking to the other warlords through letters, so you weren't surprised when he said that he intended to take you back to Azuchi for peach season.

It was no surprise that Hideyoshi gathered the entire town of Azuchi to welcome you both. It was nice to meet friends you had missed, as well as the daughters of the warlords you worked for. They awed at you, but to you it was as if you had adopted many, many girls resembling your friends.

"YN-hime! Etto... Do we call you YN-hime?" Tatsuhime, the oldest daughter of Mitsunari, asked.

"Of course! Even if she's not in Azuchi Castle, all our uncles say that she's the best princess!" Tokuhime, Nobunaga's oldest daughter, chimed in. "I may be Azuchi's princess but I can't fathom comparing myself to YN-hime!"

You shushed the girls, getting overwhelmed easily by the compliments and praises showered on you. You gave a peak to Ranmaru as a plea for help, but he added the cherry on top to the compliments instead.

"YN, YN... You know you're the best princess in my eyes!" He said, kissing your hand.

You were sure Ieyasu's daughters poked at their father with teasing of following Ranmaru's example. Others, like Mitsuhide's and Masamune's daughters, began to swoon that Ranmaru was more romantic than their fathers.

"I think that's enough Ranmaru... Let's save the romantic lines for our walk in the garden..."

Keiji Maeda

Oh what memories you had with Keiji over the years... For one, you were glad that the allegiance between the Oda and Uesugi-Takeda worked out, as you and Keiji decided to live together during that time.

You were shortly married after, with Keiji inviting Naoe as well, which lead to Kenshin being invited... plus Sasuke and Yukimura... not to mention Shingen as well... In the end it resulted in another gathering between the Oda and Uesugi-Takeda which you were glad didn't turn out violent.

Keiji was quite the family man himself, for after 20 years of marriage you had raised 10 children together, with 4 biological children and 6 adopted children. They had all grown up, married off to someone they love, leaving the once rowdy house now empty and quiet.

Keiji never stopped supporting Nobunaga, working almost as much as Hideyoshi on some days. You lived quietly, occasionally accompanying the wives of the other warlords as you never gave up your title as Azuchi's Princess, but it was obvious that you missed your entire family.

Keiji was always good with knowing your mood. Much to your surprise, you came back to an empty estate... but there were voices? One roaring voice sent you running to the main hall, where you opened the doors and there were your children, sitting around their father as he told more of his old war stories.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you shed a few tears as each of your children went up and hugged you.

"It's been so long my children..." You said as you hugged your two daughters.

"Mom, don't cry! If you cry... I'm gonna cry too!" Your first son, Keita wailed. He was taller than his father but it was quick to see that Keita, and much of the large boys of the family treasured you as their mother.

"Hoi hoi you rascals!" Keiji called out, getting up to walk to you. "Your monstrous heights would crush your mother!"

You moved into a hug with your husband, feeling Keiji lift you up. "My dear... they wouldn't," You grinned, finally laughing. "Keiji... Thank you for bringing our family together."

Kenshin Uesugi

Being crowned Lady Uesugi, you and Kenshin got busier and busier every year. It was an occurrence for the scribes of Kasugayama Castle to trail your relationship with Kenshin, as by the end of the day, it was a habit of his to take you on a stroll with your many, many bunnies.

There was not a soul in Echigo that did not hear of your marriage, Many were welcomed, but at the time no one thought that there would be a larger party than this. That was... until it was announced that you were pregnant.

It was an uproar, especially with Kenshin going around to everyone, saying how you were with child. To your surprise, your family of supposed three become a family of four as you were blessed with twins.

Kasugayama Castle was the home of your twins, Kagetora and Kagekatsu. Kenshin was proud of them, and they grew up to follow in their father's footsteps to take over the Uesugi clan... or that's what you thought until you realised how stubborn your husband was. He was making them work hard for it in their teen years when they expressed their interest in it.

Ah, but of course... Your three boys would always recharge with you, talking about their day. If one thing, they never learnt to share...

"What? You're drinking tea with Mama? But I wanted to show her the fabrics the merchants showed me!" Kagetora yelled at his older twin. Besides sword fighting, he grew up with an interest towards strategy, which was under Mitsunari's influence. He visited as often as he could, but you wonder if someone would ever catch Mitsunari's eye...

"An oaf like you wouldn't know how to brew tea like this for Mama..." Kagekatsu retorted, setting the pot down. He gained an interest for elegant arts similar to his father, and of course his favourite uncle is Yoshimoto.

Both glared at each other, but it was not long before the God of War entered the garden, with his many bunnies. "And why are you bothering my wife?"

"Father! Don't talk as if we're strangers! We're your sons and we wanna spend time with Mama too!" Kagetora retorted.

Kenshin drew his blade, challenging his sons that the winner gets to spend the afternoon with you.

"Ehem!" You coughed out, folding your kimono under you. "Boys, what's my number one rule in the garden?"

"No fighting and no swords..." Kagekatsu muttered.

"That's right," You said, taking a cup for yourself. "Now, why don't we all just sit down and have some tea?"

Sasuke Sarutobi

You and Sasuke didn't rush your lives in the Sengoku, since coming from the future meant a busy livelihood. You both agreed that when you both grew older, you would relax a little and not worry about the larger things in life.

Sasuke kept you in Echigo, as you stayed close to him and his other friends. You both had no intention of moving, but you did have an idea to own an estate to yourselves. There was no intention of children from both of you, so you decided to become foster parents to children with majority of their families at war.

You had only fostered about 3 children, but similarly, they too had extended families that they stayed with instead. The both of you learnt how to let go, ever since staying here, but that was something you both grew from. Finding out you both let go of the children you cared for, Yukimura had asked if you were interested in taking in his nephews and niece.

Yukimura himself never married, and you never asked, but he was a dear friend that you and Sasuke would sacrifice a lot for. Yukimura's orphaned nephews and niece were quickly known as your children, and Sasuke would always read them Physics Theorems as a bed time story...

It was a joyous occasion whenever those three would come back, and sooner by that time you realised you had gotten older. There was a small room where you and Sasuke kept your modern items, coincidentally was the room you would often have tea in.

You sighed, taking another bite of your bun. "Sasuke... I know we've lived quietly, but I've wanted to know if you ever wanted to return?"

"There's nothing I would've changed, YN... Not a single thing." He smiled, brushing his hand over yours. "Maybe... maybe there's another timeline, but you're in this one so it's where I am."

Kanetsugu Naoe

He continued to serve his years under Kenshin's reign, but then it was a moment of realisation of how time passed when you told him you were pregnant. It was a moment of stress for him, as he wasn't knowledgeable on the process.

It was recorded by the scribes of Kasugayama Castle that when Azuchi's Princess gave birth, Kanetsugu shed tears as if it were raining. That is to say, he cried a lot. You had a son, Kanetsuna. Much like his father, your son grew up to admire the line of Kenshin Uesugi, becoming close friends with Kagekatsu and Kagetora Uesugi.

Those three went off adventuring so much, it often worried you. Kanetsugu, with his curt self, would reassure you in his own way. It wouldn't help you much, since Kanetsugu would also talk about how helpful Kanetsuna was being towards the Uesugi family line.

You always busied yourself with your sewing, so you often used your son as a model to model your kimonos after. Kanetsuna never had an interest in fashion, but he would always walk up to women in the streets to go and buy your kimonos whenever you would open the shop.

Needless to say, most thought you were available for a marriage interview instead. Kanetsugu was surprised to see you carry home so many letters addressed to your son. Somehow, he was proud but wary.

"How did our son even resemble Shingen's charm? I'm aware he has my looks, but this is a bit much..." He adjusted the glasses he wore, taking more letters off your arms.

"Our son is of age, Kanetsugu and don't flatter yourself too much," You said, setting the letters aside. "You weren't a charmer but you steered clear of women..."

He turned red when you brought up his past self. His blush went away the moment you kissed him cheek, wrapping your arms around your husband. "It's alright, my husband... I certainly fell hard for you."

Shingen Takeda

How you lived in bliss with Shingen... It was not long before Kai was returned to Shingen, and he worked hard to build it up from the state that it was left in. Shingen created a loving community in Kai, and it was no question a homely place for you and him. Nobunaga claimed that the crops he gifted on your wedding were a gift, and you thanked him for that. Despite the time that passed, Nobunaga never took a spouse, so you wondered when he would marry too.

The whole community was in joy when you were with child, which prompted Shingen to throw an entire festival to bless your first born. Years went by, and you bore four sons for Shingen. Kai was now famous for its festivals, since Shingen insisted on one for every child you both had.

Kai, in turn, had a festival for every season and every son, with each having their birthdays in a particular season. Katsuyori was in the summer, Harukiyo was in the spring, Nobuchika was in Autumn and Yoshinobu was in Winter. The particular festival this time around was for Nobuchika, your second son and his 20th birthday.

You sighed, remembering the times the boys were younger. How they would run around, and how Shingen would swing them around hanging off his biceps. It was about 20 years of marriage, so you could still attest that he had the biceps, but your sons were far too tall to swing off their father's arm.

"Remember how they would swing on my arm?" Shingen said to you, taking a bite of a sweet bun.

"Mhm... Katsuyori would always fall off..." You replied, sipping your tea. The both of you watched as the new generation of the Kai people set up the tents, and raked the leaves off the walkways for the guests. "But Nobuchika was very stubborn..."

"It was always adorable how you'd panic, my Goddess..." He teased, pulling you close. "Not like I minded... Ah, and how Yoshinobu would sleep on Koro's back..."

The teasing was uncalled for, but Shingen couldn't stop swaddling you in his arms, relishing you in his kisses. You laughed, and your gleeful smile is one he'd always want to see on you.

Harukiyo, the youngest, nudge his other brothers. "Hey... Do they know that we're still here?"

The other three shook their heads.

Yukimura Sanada

Throughout the years, you and Yuki had 11 children together, with a mix of adopted and biological children. You were surprised that Yuki even had the confidence to take care of so many children with you, since Yuki wasn't exactly a paternal type either...

Another thing was, out of 11 children, you only had four sons... with very similar names that you can't help but give nicknames to them!

"Yuki! Dai! Help your sisters carry this heavy pot!" You yelled. In a rush, four young adults plus your husband came from their training, spears in hand, at your call to the garden.

You always wondered why Yuki insisted on naming two sons Yukichika and Yukinobu and the other two Daihachi and Daisuke. It always confused the others, especially Shingen when he couldn't tell them apart.

Besides that, all of your children had gained a love for some kind of weaponry. The only exception was your oldest, Kiku, who decided to become a healer instead. You fully supported their interests, but you still had to lay down some ground rules about weapons...

It wasn't long before three of your girls came back with Sasuke. Sasuke continued to be a favourite of the Sanada family, especially with the triplets, Okane, Oshobu and Oume, who had an affinity for throwing stars and knives. The last three girls, Ichi, Naho and Akuri were fans of archery instead, which their father taught them as well.

Speaking of Sasuke, you were glad that he treated the children as his own. You never asked why he never did adopt a few, or get married, but you were sure it wasn't right to pry.

It was always a big dinner with the Sanada family, but after dinner Yukimura would always take you somewhere else, be it the study or the garden, for his alone time with you.

"Time passes by huh..." You muttered, reaching in the tiny jar of fish snacks.

Yuki hummed, stroking Muramasa's coat as he listened to how your day went. No longer did he insult you as often as he did, but that boyish attitude of his never changed.

"Oh by the way... I arranged a marriage interview with Kiku and Katsuyori!"

Yuki spat out his drink. "T-Takeda Katsuyori?"

You hummed. "Kiku really likes him, and the feelings are mutual so-"

Not a word was to be said about what Yukimura screamed. Except for the fact that you replied with, "Kiku is 23 years old."

Yoshimoto Imagawa

Yoshimoto wasn't someone you'd imagine wanting a family, but then you realised that Yoshimoto really wanted to pamper any children you had. It was a slow process, but over the years, you both had 5 children, with 4 daughters and a son.

Your four daughters were well-known for their beauty, especially with mentions of their lineage as the phrase of 'Elegance of Imagawa and Beauty of Azuchi's Princess' was repeated several times over. Yoshimoto would not stop gushing over his own children, no matter how old they were.

Your only son, Ujizane was much more interested in becoming someone like Yukimura but he was also famous for his calligraphy works. It was an understatement how many pieces were commissioned by Kenshin and Masamune.

Yoshimoto however, has no concept of approaching romance when it came to his own child. He so happened to eavesdrop your conversation with your second daughter, Reishou.

"Ah! I can't look at him Mother! He's... He's very charming!" The usual stoic Reishou hid her face in her hands, her body swaying back and forth.

"Now... did you send him that letter I told you to do?" You said, patting her on the back. "Yoshinobu was it? He's a nice man..."

"But... But... the messenger accidentally sent it to Harukiyo Takeda! He mixed up the wrong brother..." Reishou told you, tears coming from her eyes. You wiped them away, hugging her close, and telling her it was going to be alright.

"Father? What are you doing in front Reishou's room?" His first daughter, Chotoku, asked, a hand to her hip in wonder. She wasn't as quiet as her father, her mannerisms and voice loud and clear. The 'eep' from the room was enough for him to bow down in shame as he saw you exit Reishou's room.

You ushered Chotoku to comfort her younger sister, as you dragged your husband somewhere else.

"Now Yoshimoto... you should apologise to your daughter," You said, finishing your lecture about why he shouldn't listen in. He pressed his head to floor as he listened, bowing to you as you went on about how he should be supportive.

"I... I understand my wife. Thank you..." He said.

"With that said... The five of you can come in now. I'm done with the scolding..."

Oh, the embarrassment he felt...

Kennyo

He was embarrassed to tell you that he had planned out his future with you when you found him pacing around about names for your future children. You and Kennyo lived in the reconstructed Honno-ji Temple as a wedding gift from the Oda forces.

There was no further issues between Kennyo and the others. After all, they were getting older and no one would want to make you upset. You were still friends with many of them, especially with Ranmaru. He was someone who would deliver the gifts from the warlords to you, especially when you were with child.

Kennyo was ecstatic when you were pregnant, but he was scared. Looking back then, Kennyo would get shy whenever you'd bring it up. You however, would tell him not to worry as he was a great father to your three sons.

Kyounyo, Junnyo and Kenson followed in their father's footsteps, specialising in several different aspects of the religion. Kenson, the youngest of all three however, was the most interested in travelling, most likely from the stories he'd hear from Ranmaru and Motonari.

Your three children easily mingled with Motonari's, but you always wondered why Ranmaru never settled down. He was still doing his own work, which worried you enough as he was almost a workaholic like Hideyoshi.

Kennyo's birthday rolled around, so you decided to make a special party for your husband. As you focused on the food, you tasked your three sons with work to distract their father as Kennyo's other subordinates helped with the preparation.

"Father! I wanted to ask you about this text!" Kenson carried papers about a sermon to his father, as he saw his father exit the main temple with a package in hand.

He held out his hand to his son's head, ruffling his hair. "I'm afraid not today, my son. I have to see your mother."

"Wait, but father-!"

One by one, they all failed and the surprise was ruined, but Kennyo wasn't aware of what he had done. He was so focused on giving you the said package. He only notice what he did when he saw the disappointed face of his wife, a face he was indeed weak to.

"YN-! Apologies my wife... I'll pretend as if nothing happened..."

"Father... Father has a one track mind huh..." The sons whispered amongst themselves.

Kichou

You never imagined finding a place where you and Kichou belonged. After all, your relationship in itself was out of place from your other friends. That was, until Motonari asked if you both wanted to travel around the world. You were on board, and after much prying, you and Kichou were travelling around Asia.

Most of your post-wedding years was spent with Kichou travelling to many places, although you would say that you both found a place in what you know today in modern Japan as Shikoku. The Island was not far off Motonari's reach, so you had some familiarity with it.

There was no rush to start a family straight away, especially considering that you moved away from the friends you were accustomed to. Kichou's work wasn't interrupted at all, but he did ask Motonari to help you out with finding what suited you. Somehow, someway, the assistance popularised your kimono work not to mention your fans from Azuchi and Echigo travelling to commission your work.

It was smooth sailing financially, and sooner down the line, Kichou asked if it were alright to adopt children. You agreed, and you found yourself raising a pair of twins with Kichou. They were fraternal twins, but they were quick to adapt to you and Kichou's home.

Kichou enjoyed the family life much more than he thought he would, and he realised it the moment you said your son expressed an interest in marriage to one of the village girls.

Your son, Yoshitatsu, bowed to his father as Kichou listened to his appeal. Kichou was loving but at the same time, he was strict with the twins.

"Father! Please let me marry this girl!" He bowed deeper, pressing his palms to the floor.

Your daughter, Myoinni wasn't around since she decided to be a part of the Uesugi army. Your son instead focused on business, which you assumed was where he met this girl.

Kichou was silent, but a soft nod was enough for your son to jump with glee. You rubbed your hand over his, giving him a kiss on the jaw. You felt him lean into you, so of course you praised your husband. "Kichou... You did well."

Motonari Mori

He was someone who you thought wouldn't be one to settle down, but Motonari was much more attentive than you thought. He knew that one day, he'd have to stop but he'd want to make sure that you were alright with whatever landing spot you chose to stay at.

After much deciding, you and him reached an end point of perhaps moving to the Aki province, his hometown. At first, he was uptight about it since he didn't want his family to meddle with you. He wanted to keep you away but the way you loved his hometown... He couldn't help it.

He had to gain control of his clan before he brought you in... Although it was a faster process than expected since you were pregnant... Which was not planned...

It took about a year for Motonari to accomplish it, but by his will he was going to make life comfortable for you and your first son, Takamoto. It was great for you and Motonari then on, and most in the Aki Province knew you as Lady Mori. You and Motonari may have also adopted a few children, totalling your children over the years to 12.

There wasn't much to complain about... except for the fact that Motonari had a naming gig... Which made things difficult...

"Moto! Help me with this-"

6 boys... and your husband... came running... Then you had to choose which one to help you and it wasn't even all of the children. "No no... I only wanted Motoaki to help me..." You said.

The other boys and your husband made protests about it, asking why you wanted that specific brother.

"What? Is it because Motoaki's good at arithmetic?" Motoharu asked.

"Like you could ever do arithmetic..."

"Shut up Motoyasu!"

"Oh yeah? Fight me Motomasa!"

"How undignified..."

"Don't try to be the proper one here Motokiyo!"

Motonari was the one who could break up the fight, but he didn't want to. You sighed, going back inside where your three daughters were as your nine sons and Motonari battled it out...

"Girls, let's go out to eat..."

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thepapercutpost · 3 years ago

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Women’s Gymnastics Reminds Me of Marvel's Black Widow. That's Not Okay.

July 2021 saw both the long-awaited release of Black Widow and the return of these young women to the Olympics.

“Scarlett Johansson by Gage Skidmore 2 (cropped)“ by Gage Skidmore is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 (left). "Nadia Comaneci #1" by eye2eye is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0 (right).

Last summer, the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic seemed to put everything on hold. With movie theaters shut down, the Marvel Cinematic Universe, in the midst of its longest pause in between theatrical releases, experienced the first of three eventual delays to the release of the film Black Widow, which was originally scheduled for May 2020.

Delays also found one of the biggest sporting events in the world. The 2020 Tokyo Olympic Games had to be postponed. Thousands of athletes who had spent their lives preparing to represent their countries at the Games were forced to put their plans on hold. Among them were several Team USA hopefuls for women’s gymnastics.

July 2021 saw both the long-awaited release of Black Widow and the return of these young women to the Olympics.

In 2016, the Larry Nassar scandal, in which Nassar, a doctor affiliated with USA Gymnastics, was accused and convicted of sexually abusing over 250 women and girls, pulled the curtain back on the realities of elite gymnastics. Soon after Nassar’s abuse came to light, it was revealed that USAG had covered up complaints of sex abuse from hundreds of gymnasts against coaches, gym owners, and staff.

When asked how they thought this behavior was allowed to occur for so long, gymnasts cited the culture of fear and toxicity that permeated the gymnastics community.

From one angle, Nassar was a friendly and trustworthy face in a sea of strict training and harsh discipline. When Béla and Márta Károlyi, husband and wife coaches who defected to the U.S. from Romania in 1981, took over USA Gymnastics, they brought with them a controlling and abusive method of training. In Athlete A, a Netflix documentary centered on the sex abuse scandal, Olympic gymnast Jamie Dantzscher recalls Nassar being “the only nice adult” and that he gave the girls food and candy in secret. Naturally, the gymnasts trusted him and his methods.

And from another angle, the athletes had been conditioned from a young age, in most cases, to doubt their own instincts about their bodies.

You think you’re hungry, you think your ankle hurts, you think that you’re working really hard. But you’re told and you’re screamed at that you’re lazy and you’re fat and there’s nothing wrong with your ankle. So, when a man puts his un-gloved hand into your vagina without asking you, I can only imagine that what you feel is, ‘He’s this great doctor, and I’m lucky to be here, so I’m not going to say anything.’

—Jennifer Sey, USA Gymnastics National Champion, 1986 (Athlete A)

Letting alone the ramifications of coming forward as a gymnast against a well-respected member of the community such as Nassar, many of his victims didn’t speak out because, as a result of being raised in an already abusive system, they were unable to identify his actions as abuse.

In a similar sense, Black Widow depicts a group of women and girls who have undergone rigorous training and have been brainwashed into carrying out the KGB’s missions. The fictional Red Room provides a mirror to the very real world of competitive Gymnastics.

Even before the recent film, Marvel fans were familiar with the Red Room as the program that trained Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson) and other Russian girls as Black Widows, an elite class of spies and assassins. In Avengers: Age of Ultron, we see a flashback of Natasha’s time as a trainee. One memory is of an intensive ballet lesson, and the scene shows her looking on with her instructor at the studio of young women.

“You’ll break them,” Natasha says to the teacher.

��Only the breakable ones,” is her response.

Other allusions are made to the cruelty of the Widow program. When telling Natasha about the reincarnation of the Red Room, Yelena, her sister (Florence Pugh), says that only about one in twenty girls who Dreykov takes survives the initial stages. To Alexei, the girls’ father (David Harbour), Yelena elaborates on the “involuntary hysterectomy” given to them by the Red Room, a process which removes a woman’s reproductive organs and, as Natasha had mentioned in Age of Ultron, makes her unable to have children.

The brutal training process and forced assault upon women’s bodies, which they were made to believe was normal, should sound familiar.

Johansson said in an interview that the story for Black Widow began to take shape in 2017, when the #MeToo movement was rising to prominence, and is essentially a story about women supporting other women. She wasn’t shy to say the film was inspired by that moment in history, a movement that provided support to and was benefited by the USA Gymnastics scandal.

For Red Room graduates, training is followed by executing missions. The character of Dreykov (Ray Winstone) provides a face to the dark and secretive organization who gives the Widows orders. Although they are highly trained and skilled, they still face danger during these operations.

The same is true of gymnasts at their competitions. Gymnastics is one of the most dangerous sports, especially for girls and young women. Gymnasts experience both acute injuries, which occur after a single landing or other impact, and chronic injuries, which develops over time, usually during the course of frequent practice. They are often expected to compete with their injuries. In the 1996 Olympics, Kerri Strug, part of the American team known as the Magnificent Seven, won the gold for her team in the all-around by landing the final vault on one foot, as she had severely injured the other during her first attempt. The Peacock docuseries Golden: The Journey of USA's Elite Gymnasts reveals that gymnasts continue to compete with injuries today. Team USA’s 2021 all-around women’s gold medalist Suni Lee began the competition season with a broken foot while MyKayla Skinner, silver medalist on vault, began the season still fighting lingering COVID symptoms months after contracting the virus.

Injuries are one of several reasons elite gymnasts today are younger than they were 50 years ago. When Nadia Comaneci from Romania became the first gymnast to earn a perfect score at the Olympics in 1976, she was fourteen years old. From that point on, the standard for Olympic gymnasts became younger and younger. One advantage to training a younger gymnast is that the body is more resilient, and the part of the brain that recognizes the danger in the more difficult moves is not yet fully developed, which results in less of the hesitation that causes some injuries.

But with more malleability comes more potential for abuse. The younger a girl begins to learn gymnastics, the more susceptible she is to mental health issues such as anxiety and eating disorders, both common in athletes across the board, as we are learning during these 2021 Games. There is more opportunity to shape her thinking, and if she is told by coaches that she is not injured or should perform anyway when she is in severe pain, she will be less inclined to get help when something is severely wrong. Dominique Moceanu, Kerri Strug’s teammate in the 1996 Olympics, told BBC in a recent interview regarding being forced to compete with injuries, “I didn't even care about my well-being, to be honest, because no one cared about it ever.”

In Black Widow, Yelena is taken to the Red Room at only six years old, and it is later revealed that Natasha was identified and taken from her birth parents by a KGB program that measured the genetic potential in infants. Like the Károlyis, the Red Room discovered that getting to the girls at an early age made it easier to exploit and mistreat them without raising questions.

In 2016, when the film is set, Natasha and Yelena kill Dreykov and bring an end to the Black Widow program. Although the real-world events of 2016 in USA Gymnastics, and even the conviction of Larry Nassar, didn’t end with the toxic culture of U.S. gymnastics falling from the sky in flames, things are getting better. The 2021 Olympics are coming to a conclusion in Tokyo today, but if we are to learn and grow from recent horrifying history, we must not forget what these Games and decades of competitive gymnastics have taught us.

Among all the abominable similarities elite gymnastics and the Red Room share, there is one beautiful thing they have in common: sisterhood.

Natasha and Yelena set out to protect the young women and girls who have been captured and free them of Dreykov's mind control, having experienced that trauma themselves. In doing so, they revisit and repair their own relationship as sisters.

By all accounts, gymnasts feel a similar kinship with their peers. They bond over their shared experience: the stress of competing, the aches of injuries, long days and nights spent practicing their sport. They support each other, cheering each other on and celebrating each other's accomplishments. The women who came forward about their abuse did so not for themselves but for the sake of other gymnasts. The vulnerablities women face in this world mean that we are also tasked with the responsibility and the privilege of protecting each other.

#opinion #sports #entertainment

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writerman · 5 years ago

Text

Elrond x Thranduil Commission

Hello!

This is a commissioned fic that the wonderful and ever so talented artist @neonelysium requested.

Title: A Life Of Expectation

Word Count: 7,206

Ship: Elronduil. Elrond X Thranduil (In case the post title wasn’t obvious enough ahaha)

Please enjoy and if you want to commission something please let me know via IM!

Thank you.

A Life Of Expectation

Thranduil was jolted awake when the landau carriage came to a stop suddenly. A horse at the front of the carriage gave a discontented whinny but quietens down almost immediately after the coachman shushes it.

They were home, it seemed, and the weather was dreadful.

The loud patter of the rain on the hood of the carriage was near deafening and Thranduil wondered how he had managed to sleep through the downpour for so long. How typical that the weather found a way to match the seriousness of his reason for returning home.

All he could do for a moment was stare up at the stately home that loomed above him under the dark and dreary sky. The evening had already begun to set in and the meagre light Thranduil had was fast fading but he did not fail to notice the imposing figure stood at the door accompanied by one of their house staff holding a lamp up at their side.

His father.

Of course, he would await his arrival in such a manner.

Fussing with the cuffs of his shirt beneath the sleeves of his jacket, Thranduil stalled for time, his eyes now firmly on his task rather than the lamp that cast an eerie shadow over his father. While Thranduil could honestly say he did not fear his father, he certainly did not wish to disappoint him. However, with the rumours flying fast at his college, this was the first time Thranduil did feel fear simply because he had seen his father’s anger before but this time it would be directed at him.

Sullying the family name had not been a worry for his father before now because as far as he was concerned he had raised a decent and intelligent boy in Thranduil but the longer he stayed away from home the less that seemed so.

The carriage door was yanked open and the white face of the coachman greeted Thranduil’s with a grim demeanour. Moments later he stepped aside and an umbrella was thrown open to shield Thranduil from the rain.

This is it, Thran. There is no turning back you must face this like a man. The dread that filled his entire being weighed him down like his bones had been replaced with lead and he stumbled inelegantly out of the carriage.

Once his feet were on solid ground and not the slippery steps he righted himself and took the umbrella from gloved hands with a quiet thank you. The coachman merely nodded and walked away apparently unfazed by the torrential rain pouring over him.

As he approached the house he could not discern his father’s features so cast in shadow that they were, but he remained unmoving and the only sound was the thundering rain and a small ‘Welcome home, Master Thranduil,’ from the maid holding the lamp.

“Hurry inside now, we don’t have all night for this.” Oropher finally spoke, the anger a sharp edge gilding a tired tone. A voice rough from lack of sleep likely the countless hours spent agonising over what to do with his wayward son.

Moving faster, Thranduil reached the steps and watched as his father turned and walked inside with the maid close behind. There was no greeting as there had been many times before and it further reminded Thranduil that the reason he was home was a black cloud that hung heavy over his and his father’s relationship.

Would they no longer be close after this?

As much as Thranduil had tried to deny the rumours the evidence was mounting against him with each passing day. No longer sure who he could trust in such times he knew it was time to go home and face the music.

Before the door had even closed behind him someone was taking the umbrella from his hands and tugging off his coat. The action of doing these things himself was taken away from him and now there was only the moment he had dreaded since first leaving university.

But the scolding he had expected did not come and in the low light of the lamps in the hallway, Thranduil could see just how tired his father was and guilt washed over him like a tidal wave.

“Warm yourself up, the cook will likely still have something for you to eat. I do not want to see you tonight. Tomorrow we will discuss everything I have heard and you will try as best you can to explain yourself. Yes?” There was no room for argument and Thranduil found he really did not want to put up a fight. Food and sleep were a welcome distraction and the time he had been gifted with would allow him to get his story straight.

His response was just to nod until Oropher raised a brow and Thranduil meekly uttered ‘Yes, sir.’ before turning away from him to hide from his father’s sight as requested.

The walk of shame did not last long as he was accosted by his mother who threw her arms around him and kissed both of his cheeks. She was as radiant as ever even dressed in her nightclothes.

“My baby boy you’ve come home at last!” Her sunny attitude a far cry from his father’s and he wondered if Oropher hadn’t told her as to why he had returned. It wasn’t like his father to hide things from his wife, lest she knew but did not care?

Unlikely, but it was nice to dream.

What kind of world would it be that you could love whoever you wanted?

“My sweet Thran, oh look at you, cold and tired. You had better be going down to the kitchens. The cook will sort you something warm, have him prepare a pot of tea and I will be with you soon.” The love which she radiated made everything seem just a little bit better to Thranduil but she had always been the same.

Lively and full of joy.

She and his father were a perfect match with his dry sense of humour and her vivacious personality always needing to shine through. She would laugh so gaily at his father linking her arm through his as they walked the gardens in summer.

As a child, Thranduil had wanted that for himself so dearly, but as the years went by he began to realise it was never meant to be. The pretty girls of the countryside did not turn his head, their fanciful dresses and ribboned hair meant nothing to him. Often times he would find himself mute before them unable to find any sort of common ground in which a conversation could be had.

Though this was often misconstrued and he soon found the reputation of being a quiet but romantic soul had been pushed upon him without consult. It made him irresistible to women much to his dismay.

The first man to ever turn his head had been Lord Bard Bowman, his dark wavy hair and bright smile had bowled a young teenage Thranduil over. The first time he had ever seen him was when his father had returned from a day hunt with him.

They were chatting brightly about nonsense Thranduil cared little for, and Oropher had introduced Bard to him proudly. Oropher had called Thranduil over and threw an arm around his shoulders bringing him closer to the horses while Bard moved forward to shake his hand.

“Hello, young man. Your father tells me you will be heading off to university next year?” He wasn’t as old as Oropher, Thranduil had noticed that right away, there were no lines to show a more mature age on this man’s face.

A young lord from Wales he had been told, that was the accent, he had brought his wife and their first child to the English countryside for work and it had worked out marvellously for him. He owned a fleet of merchant ships that sailed all over the world to lands that Thranduil could only dream of seeing one day.

To Thranduil’s delight, Bard had been invited to dinner that evening with his wife and young daughter, Sigrid, who was a mere 3 years old and was fascinated with Thranduil’s hair from the moment she saw it. While she would reach out to grab the white-blond strands Thranduil busied himself with asking many questions about the other countries Bard had sent his ships to and found that the man himself had often sailed with a crew too.

“Not so much now there is a family to come home to but when we have more time I will tell you everything you want to know about any country I’ve set foot on.”

Thankfully, Oropher had seen the adoration as nothing more than hero worship and would urge Thranduil to visit Bard when he could. There was always a lesson to be had from someone somewhere.

Everything about Lord Bard Bowman was impressive but Thranduil knew better than to act on any feelings he might have had. It was unfair to Bard and his family to have to deal with such shame.

Never in his life had Thranduil seen a man love another man and for the longest time, he felt as though he might have been the only person in the world to feel that way. A solitary figure wandering through a world that he would never find a place in.

His only distraction was studying and so he dedicated his time to books. A noble pursuit according to his father but Thranduil was relying on the boredom of the books to stifle any feelings inside him to the point he was more a shell than man.

The memory of Bard was a special one, he was a kind and honest man, someone Thranduil hoped he could trust one day. If his world should fall apart by his own hands he had no other option but to leave his family and country behind.

If that time should ever come about he would trust Bard would help him.

The cook greeted him brightly when he entered the kitchen and he set down a plate of food for him along with a pot of tea. He must have known his mother would be along soon because he only offered a smile before leaving the kitchen altogether.

He wasn’t much hungry even after the long trip home and so could only push the food around his plate with his fork until his mother appeared at the door and urged him to eat as she always did.

His mother took a seat next to her son and poured herself tea, she was wearing a quilted housecoat embroidered with delicate pink and white flowers, a gift from his father years ago that she held dear to her even now.

“You know why I came home, don’t you?”

Silence.

Thranduil watched as his mother regarded him over the rim of her teacup before nodding to show she did indeed understand why he was home midterm. Her expression wasn’t like his father’s; there was no hardness to her gaze; she felt sorrow for his situation but she did not hide her heart from him.

“Is it true?” A simple question but Thranduil could already feel the weight of his answer and he let his gaze fall to his plate when he nodded. “I knew, I have always known.” It wasn’t the response he had expected but nor was it the response he really wanted either because how could he lie to his father’s face when he had told his mother the truth?

“Don’t tell your father it is true, please, Thranduil. Don’t let him know, it would crush him.” Of course, this was about his father’s feelings and not his, of course!

Dropping the fork he let it clatter onto the table as he got to his feet and he stepped away with the intent of walking out of the kitchen with nothing to say to his mother but he couldn’t. He could not hold his tongue.

“Yes, it would crush him but I am the one that has to live this way in a world where I cannot find a piece of happiness. But, of course, it would hurt my father and all he has done for this family because his son had to ruin the perfect image everyone has of us.” Thranduil didn’t bother waiting to hear his mother’s attempts to soothe him because there was nothing she could say that would make any of this better and so he left the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.

The solitude of his bedroom was that which he so desperately needed. No students there to interrupt him, no parents to bother him because neither really wanted to see him now and who was he to argue with that? No, it was just the sweet blessed darkness of a childhood bedroom and the gnawing feeling of fatigue that lingered at the edges of his mind.

There was no lamps lit when he entered his room, but Thranduil had spent enough time there in his life to know the layout of the room with his eyes closed. He navigated his way past the desk and his bed to the large window facing out toward the extensive gardens and the woodland beyond it.

The rain still lashed down over the land and the wind battered the windows shaking them in their frames at the ferocity of it. The perfect weather to mirror the mood he had fallen into. The anger washing over him blotted out any guilt or fear he had when first arriving home, the anger he needed far more and he would hold it inside himself until it solidified into something hard and impenetrable.

From then on his anger would be his armour.

He spent the evening sitting in solitude by his window watching as the heavens fell and he wondered that if it continued to rain would the world be washed away? Could it start again with open minds and hearts?

Wishful thinking, the kind of thoughts he’d had as a child. The kind of thoughts his father rushed out of his head as soon as he was old enough to comprehend that all actions had consequences and that God was always watching.

When his thoughts grew dark, Thranduil found it better to sleep than to ruminate and so with heaviness in his heart and a mind filled to the brim with unease he took himself to bed.

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet affair. It was not usually so.

His mother was not her cheery self and his father did not even raise his gaze to him as Thranduil entered the room.

It was easy for his disheartened demeanour to continue when his existence seemed disturbing and he was the source of village gossip. The countryside population had always been a mire of whispers and sideways glances but Thranduil had never been at the centre of it.

“I’ve arranged for you to meet one of the local girls this evening. She’s from a good family and very beautiful.” Oropher picked up his teacup as he spoke, eyes still on the newspaper in front of him. After taking a drink from his cup he finally regarded his son with a dull expression. “It would be in your best interests to make an effort to impress her.” That was it, that was the extent of their conversation about the rumours from the university.

Thranduil had never expected anything in-depth from his father on something that could shatter the reputation of the family name. It wasn’t as though he understood what Thranduil had done or how he felt because falling in love with men just wasn’t done.

And if it was, Thranduil desperately wished to know where because the English countryside was no place for him and likely it never would be.

When Thranduil did not respond to his father he was given a sharp glare before he nodded, though further defying his father by not opening his mouth not even once to eat.

Was he not an adult now?

To be treated this way by a man who was supposed to love and respect you regardless of who you were- it seemed that those actions came with conditions. Who knew a family was a contract?

Would he be billed at the end of his time with them in his childhood home?

He stayed seated at the table long after his father and mother had left him for other things, even after the table had been cleared away, though someone was kind enough to bring in a tray with fresh tea for him.

After a long moment, Thranduil found the will to move and he poured himself tea. Picking the cup up he moved from his seat at the table and wandered to the window and watched as the gardener discussed something with his mother.

How easy the world seemed to be when you knew you could belong without scorn or the threat of hellfire consuming you after you took your last breath. Thranduil had seen and heard what was said about men that loved other men and for a brief moment, he understood what his parents were so upset about.

In his own way his father was trying to protect him, he supposed but it seemed a harsh and unloving way to go about it. Thranduil would not forgive them for what they had said and done, he doubted he would for a long time.

For the remainder of his day, he avoided them and purposely would leave the room should they enter any he was already occupying. They seemed to understand and did not speak to him or rather, they might have been pleased that they did not have to.

After several failed meetings between himself and the young ladies chosen for him, Thranduil received a stern warning from his father to try harder and with that was promptly handed an invitation.

Oropher had arranged for Thranduil to escort a young lady to a dance held at another home in the village. He was under strict instructions to impress her with his wit and charm, though it was mentioned his good looks would do most of the work for him should he be lacking in conversation.

While most of this was said with a smile from Oropher, his son did not reciprocate and instead, he contended with the bile rising in his throat and churning nausea that threatened his constitution.

Her name was Rose and she was beautiful. Any man with eyes could see she was someone that would turn heads wherever she went and she was of a gentle disposition, soft-spoken with a sweet smile.

Honestly, Thranduil did appreciate her beauty, with her long brunette hair starkly contrasting her ivory skin scattered with light freckles over her nose, along with the pale pink tinge at her cheeks and blue eyes darker than the night sky. She was even sweet to talk to. Their conversation in the carriage was short yet interesting, but it did nothing for him and he knew it never would.

They made for a beautiful pair as they entered the room where the party was held. Many heads turned as Thranduil walked in with Rose on his arm, and many exchanged money in the darker corners, mostly out of sight, when Thranduil managed an almost pained smile at his partner for the evening.

“I know it might seem, perhaps, a tad presumptuous to do this but I would like to introduce you to my brother.” Rose tugged gently at Thranduil’s arm and led him across the room toward a man standing with his back to them, they were talking to who Thranduil assumed was their mother.

“We’re rather close and it would mean a lot to me that you and he got on well,” So Oropher had already told Rose’s family that Thranduil would propose regardless of the length of time they had known one another?

Well, he hadn’t exactly thought his father was that sneaky but he had definitely underestimated the old man more than he could ever imagine. What had essentially happened was that Thranduil had just met his wife for the first time, and while he was horrified at the prospect of being coerced into a marriage by his own family... he could not help but feel that this was the only way that would earn his father’s love and respect again.

Pushing this to the back of his mind he offered a genuine smile as Rose introduced her brother Elrond to him. They shook hands and made small talk until Rose spirited him away to the dance floor for 20 minutes leaving her brother alone with their mother again.

Eventually, Rose was near press-ganged by her friends to join them in a song by the piano and Thranduil was free to wander as he liked, and he headed straight for the door to the gardens for fresh air away from the noise of the music and laughter inside.

He found that he was not completely alone as Rose’s brother was standing admiring a small apple tree growing by the fence that separated a stable yard from the garden. He realises he is also not alone and turns to face Thranduil with a shy smile gracing his lips.

His hair was long and dark like his sister’s but his eyes, Thranduil could see under lamplight, were dove grey, almost lighter than his.

“Ah, Thranduil, yes?” The small flutter in Thranduil’s stomach when Elrond spoke was entirely unnecessary and he did not appreciate it in the slightest. This was not what he needed right now even if it was just the tiniest feeling of excitement he didn’t want it!

Elrond continued before he was given a chance to respond.

“I know that you will propose to my sister soon even if this evening was the first time you’ve met her and I just wanted to let you know that she’s very excited to be married.” Under the glow of the lamplight, his blush seemed almost bronze and it was the most enchanting thing Thranduil had ever seen. “Rosie has always been the one for romance but she understands that sometimes in life you do not get to truly pick that which you want but… I believe she was done by quite well when matched with you.”

There was a moment when Thranduil felt his breath catch in his throat at Elrond’s words, had he entirely misconstrued the meaning or was this man reaching out to him trying to convey something more?

“I suppose everybody in the village knows that Rose and I have just met but I also suppose they know we are to marry soon too,” Thranduil tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear that had fallen loose from his tie and he caught sight of Elrond biting his lip nervously before looking away.

This man was hiding something, something he wanted to say but knew it was, perhaps, too rude or improper to bring it up. Something the village would find wildly indecent to speak on lest behind closed doors!

“If you have something you need to say do not be shy, you are soon to be my brother, are you not?”

This seemed to help Elrond find his words but still, he did not speak and he only gestured for Thranduil to follow him further into the garden.

Such an action would only be criticised by his father should he find out and, ideally, Thranduil should have said no to save his already tattered reputation but he did not and instead he followed his soon to be brother-in-law into the garden.

“Rosie does not know why you two are to be married so quickly, and I think it is best she never finds out and she won’t, not from my mouth anyhow!” He looked nervous as he spoke and he cast more than a few glances over his shoulder as they walked. It put Thranduil on edge and he was eager to return to the dance so as to ensure his face was seen as much as possible to keep him in his father’s good graces.

It hit him then suddenly what Elrond had wanted to say and he grabbed the man by the wrist and pulled him to face him. Their chests bumped before Thranduil neatly took a step back to keep space between them and so as not to reveal how hard his heart thundered in his chest at their close proximity.

“If you mean to threaten me into taking care of your sister to ensure you do not reveal my secret you are going about it exactly the wrong way.” Thranduil’s voice came out as a hiss, his anger born from the panic that rose in his chest and the words came out strangled with edges he could not soothe into something more composed.

“No, no you misunderstand me.” Elrond pulled his wrist from Thranduil’s grip and rubbed the sore spot left behind. His expression one of dismay as if Thranduil had betrayed his trust but he pressed on. “Why would I threaten to reveal your nature, it would be hypocritical of me to do so when I am hiding the exact same thing from those I hold dear to me.”

Oh. oh.

The world slammed into focus for Thranduil and he turned on his heel to walk away but not before whispering to Elrond that they should meet another time. A dark garden was no place for two men to be seen talking.

His words prompted Elrond into moving from his spot and he hurried past Thranduil and into the party before him hopefully ensuring no one thought anything untoward. In the meantime, Thranduil retook his spot out by the door as though he had been there the entire time and he was soon found by Rose asking him to meet her friends.

The night soon wound down and Rose was escorted home by Thranduil and Elrond, and she talked excitedly between them in the carriage about the music and her friends. It made Thranduil feel sad that she was so full of life and so excited to be married to him when he could offer her nothing- he wondered how marriage would be with her?

Would they ever be truly happy?

All he could offer was friendship masked as a relationship but he had a feeling she was clever enough to see through that with ease and how would she react when she found out that he was unable to give her children?

It would break her heart, likely.

That was no life for someone so spirited and sweet. But if he did not marry her what would become of him?

Part of him knew it was unfair to trap the young woman and that the right thing to do would be for him to leave and never return. His family reputation be damned!- The other part of him knew there was cowardice within him and it forced itself to the forefront of his mind and clouded his heart.

As though sensing his unease, Rose took Thranduil’s hand in hers and smiled up at him and he saw years down the line in the blink of an eye, how that sunny smile would be the first to go and how his anger and pain would be the reason for it. The beautiful flower that she was would wilt and in time she would become as miserable as he had felt for all those years.

Frightened by the very thought of it Thranduil had to stop himself from wrenching his hand from hers in a bid not to cause a stir. Instead, he pretended to stifle a yawn and then apologise which she could only laugh at before shaking her head at him.

He did not fail to catch Elrond watching him from the other side of Rose, he looked concerned but this time did not seem to want to bring it to his attention and for that Thranduil was grateful.

Life seemed very uneventful after that evening for a short while. There was a wedding to plan and Thranduil was expected to keep up appearances with his betrothed, and so they spent many an afternoon out walking or visiting friends and family. While this was all rather tame it was very boring and Thranduil could not shake the feeling that it was all very disingenuous on his part.

“I feel like an actor,” Thranduil stated one afternoon. He and Elrond were sitting in the library of Elrond’s family home, a marvellous place the first in the world to be powered by electricity and it was all done via water from the lake by the house.

“How so?” Elrond frowned as he looked up from his book, the light coming in from the large windows around them illuminated every part of his face and Thranduil took a deep breath to steady the fire igniting in his veins.

“I am given lines to repeat to friends and family. A fabrication of the relationship lives in everyone’s mind even with Rose. How can this be fair to her?” It was easy to feel safe and secure in such a place, how can somewhere filled with light all day and night be a place he could not trust?

The book Elrond had been browsing was set down on the table and closed after the page was marked. An expression of concern was clear on his face as he sat back in his seat and clasped his hands together, his light eyes trained on Thranduil leaving him feeling laid bare before the other man.

“There isn’t anything I could say to make this better.” Blunt but it was the truth no matter how you sliced it. But it wasn’t helpful and Thranduil didn’t like the way his insides squirmed at how Elrond looked at him even if it was completely innocent.

“Can you at least try?” Thranduil joked and they both shared a smile.

“I could tell you that everything will be fine and that the world will open its eyes and see that a man loving a man isn’t a bad thing, but wouldn’t you think me cruel to lie to you like that?”

“Is it any crueller for me to lie to your sister in the same way?”

“Thranduil, please. Rose is happy and this keeps you safe. What else is there for you to do but accept it?” The question in his voice held a desperate edge and Thranduil knew it was because his friend was running out of things to say to him on the subject of his upcoming marriage.

He had to stop putting him on the spot like that.

“Are you to be married soon?” Of course, they both knew Elrond was not engaged to anyone and so far his mother had not given any signs that she wished for him to marry but the time would soon come and what would he do then?

“No. I am unsure what I will do when she asks me to meet the daughters of her friends. Rosie mentioned once or twice that she had someone in mind for me but Thranduil like you I cannot bear the idea of such pretence.

I hope and pray that one morning I shall wake up and I will find myself deeply in love with a woman to ease the suffering I feel each day and to save my mother some heartache.” It seemed that this too like it did Thranduil, played upon Elrond’s mind daily. They were stuck in a mire of trying to ease their pain and keep themselves safe from the prying eyes and ears of those that might wish harm upon them for the lives they truly wished to lead.

“There is nothing wrong with us!” Thranduil was out of his seat and on his feet in seconds, he pulled Elrond from his seat and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Did that feel wrong to you? Do you hope to never experience what feels right to you again?” He staggered back when Elrond planted his hands to his chest and pushed him back but in the haze of joy and bravado he scarcely heard Elrond reprimand him.

“How dare you? Anyone could have seen us here!” He was hugging his own middle as he spoke, trying to cover whatever shame had burrowed into the pit of his stomach that would not shift until the day was through. “If we had been seen that would have been the end for both of us? What do you think was going to happen if you did that?!”

It was easy to feel at home in the spaces filled with light, it was easy to feel safe there and enact whatever he felt inside. His friendship with Elrond had flourished into something close and meaningful. However, Thranduil did understand that his part of the friendship was more than that, but with his bold actions, the consequences could have it come crashing down around him.

He had to apologise but he did not feel sorry for what he had done, still, he knew he had to fix any damage the kiss had wrought upon the friendship.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to prove to you that there wasn’t anything wrong with who we were, I just went about it the wrong way.” It was enough to settle Elrond and he accepted the apology.

Letting his hands fall to his sides for a moment, Elrond remained silent, getting his thoughts in order before he opened his arms to Thranduil and beckoned him to him. They shared a long embrace and Thranduil felt his entire being relax because this was what he needed the love and acceptance of someone who understood.

He loved Elrond he knew that much and even if it was not reciprocated it was better than nothing to him. The embrace would be in his thoughts for a long time; it would help him through moments wherein he believed he could no longer go on.

“I did not want you to be right, Thranduil. I did not want to admit that your kiss felt right because then it confirmed that I was truly a man that loved other men. My life can never be the way it was intended for me but it does also give me power over my own life even if no one but you knows such.” That was enough for now and Elrond retook his seat and picked up his book again signalling the end of that conversation.

The man looked frazzled beyond belief and Thrandhi felt it unfair to carry on when his friend was clearly at his ends. Their day went on as normal after that and the conversation they had was brighter and casual.

They parted ways after that and Thranduil returned home feeling lighter than he had in months. Finding someone who understood, who confirmed he was not alone renewed his energy and when he greeted his parents with a smile they both seemed rather taken aback.

Neither mentioned the sudden change in their son, in fact, they just seemed relieved. While the conversation was still strained they found him more agreeable for the next few days and the atmosphere in their home, that was once rife with hostility, had calmed to something less uneasy.

Thranduil wasn’t ready to forgive them, he likely wouldn’t be for a long time, if at all! But there was some peace at least and for him, however short-lived it was, that was enough to tide him over while he thought over his options for the future.

Truthfully, he knew he could not marry Rose. She deserved someone that would try and drag the stars down from the very skies for her, she did not deserve someone that, at most, would only grow fond of her but never give her the emotional availability that she would need for a healthy relationship.

Just because he would be miserable did not mean Rose needed the same fate.

The next time he saw Elrond the sun was bright in the sky above them and Rose had suggested tea out in the garden. She was bright and cheerful as usual though distracted by her cousin’s visit and their brand new baby girl, so she often excused herself to coo over the child.

Elrond and Thranduil shared a look that said ‘oh dear.’ but said nothing on the matter, instead turning to small talk about the weather and family until everyone was out of earshot. This was when Thranduil took his chance to speak to his friend on what he truly wished to say.

“I want you to run away with me.”

It was sudden and, of course, quite out of character for Thranduil to be so very impulsive but it had been all he could think of for days. All he could think of since he had kissed Elrond in the library.

Poor Elrond nearly dropped his teacup and saucer as he stared wide-eyed at his friend across the table. He didn’t say anything because, well, what could he say to that?

Scandalous, of course, this handsome blond man trying to seduce his fiancee’s brother and convince him to run away with him, but it was an adventure and who didn’t love the idea of an adventure?

“You are just trying to make me laugh, aren’t you?” Elrond’s voice was a scared and small thing that barely passed his lips and the sound of it deflated any bravado Thranduil had because he knew this would not end well.

Resigned to this fact Thranduil shook his head.

“No, I’ve thought about it for days. Imagine sailing off to a new life somewhere in the world where judging eyes would never come.” The urgency in his voice did not register with Elrond and Thranduil watched as the fear melted away into something akin to disdain.

“Where exactly do you think we could go in the world. There is no place on this green earth that we truly belong, there is nothing for us here but there is nothing for us out there either. You would give up your family for a man you may not always love?”

Those words were a searing bolt through his heart- to think Elrond thought so little of him and his feelings!

Had he offended him by not involving him in the plan?

No, he did not seem so petty as to think that way, however, he was seemingly cruel and cold for someone so gentle. If it were a means to protect himself Thranduil would understand but the pain would not lessen regardless.

“Aren’t you tired of hiding?” Thranduil leaned over the table in a bid for Elrond to hear him while keeping his voice low. If it were to escalate into a full-scale argument neither man could confirm their innocence.

“I am safe the way I am. If I never marry I can accept the rumours but running away with another man not only hurts me but my family and their reputation. You may have no regard for your family name but I love my mother and my sister, I would hate to see them lose everything because of a whim!” Elrond got up and stalked off leaving Thranduil still sat at the white wrought iron table watching his friend storm off back into the house.

Rose appeared at Thranduil’s side with a look of concern as she too watched her brother walk away. She took the empty seat next to Thranduil leaving her brother’s seat open but she knew he would not be returning.

“Is everything all right?” When her focus was moved to Thranduil he shifted uncomfortably, not wishing to be pinned with the look of true innocence, something that he had lost a long time ago, or had that been his ignorance of the real world?

It didn’t bear thinking about, not when he had to admit that Elrond was upset because of his words and actions. His ignorance and lack of innocence were that which pushed his friend away.

Friend.

Was that all he was to Thranduil?

Surely, a friend was all he was to Elrond and now he was scarcely that!

Rubbing his face he turned to look at Rose and mustered up as much courage as he could to tell her the truth but when he saw her it bled away like ink in the rain. The soft expression on her face was so full of knowing, so world-weary it was hard to imagine this was the same Rose that had sat by him moments ago.

"You're looking at him as though he broke your heart, Thranduil."

How hard his heart began to beat in his chest. The smallest inclination that she knew was enough to send his thoughts spinning wildly out of control and when he looked at her he knew there was fear in his expression.

How would this end?

"I didn't notice at first, you know?" Rose spoke quietly but kept her voice pleasant as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress. Her delicate fingers were seemingly able to clear the creases with ease. "I believed I was a lucky woman to know that my husband-to-be was close to my brother and that there would be no ill will between the both of you."

With his voice stuck in his throat unable or perhaps even unwilling to speak, Thranduil merely nodded for her to continue which she did upon seeing this.

“The more time that has passed the more I realise that you looked at him the way you should look at me.” It was blunt and it could have been hurtful should Thranduil have been able to process any feeling other than mind-numbing fear. “The world is a strange place, Thranduil and I know I do not understand it all, but I do know that we should not be together.” Simply put Rose was telling him she understood what was between her brother and him, and that the engagement could not move forward but the anticipation of something more such as a threat hung starkly in Thranduil's mind.

“You would ask that we call off our engagement?” Surprisingly his voice was even when he spoke but not as strong as he would have liked but what would have been the point of acting with bravado in front of someone who knew him so intimately?

“Would that not be wise if you wish to pursue my brother?”

A derisive laugh burst from Thranduil and it hurt his own ears at the sudden sound, unbecoming and impolite but all the same, it fit the moment perfectly.

“You are right when you say you do not understand the world because if you did you would know that I could never pursue Elrond in the way a man would a woman.”

“What shall you do now, go on alone?”

“That is all I can do.

#Commission #Elrond #Thranduil #Elronduil #The Hobbit #LOTR #AU

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enbycalicocat · 4 years ago

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Day 9: 4th of February, 2021

It was that date again. To be honest, I should come more often than once a year, but it still hurt so much. Pain and me did not get along well, and that was why I could only do this every 365 days or so.

The flowers were heavy and wet in my arms, and I wondered if the people from the store remembered me. I didn’t think so. The past two years I’d come, there had been a new person behind the counter. Which was sort of bad for them I guess, always having to interview people and train new employees.

As I got near the plot I noticed that there was someone sitting on top of her tomb. Who in the world was this? Who did he think he was, sitting on top of my mother’s freaking tomb like it’s some bench in a park? Wrath coursed through my veins and clouded my sight. The disrespect, for crying out loud. The woman that gave me life laid under his damn bum.

“Excuse me,” I asked the nearest attendant. “Who is that? And, why has nobody said something to him? He can’t just sit on top of the graves, can he?”

The woman turned her head and saw the direction I was pointing at. Her eyes widened when she saw the man, and then she turned to look at me, her eyes still wide.

“That man in the blue coat?” she asked.

“Yes, the man in the blue coat.” Do you see another man sitting on a grave in the direction I’m pointing at?! I was so annoyed. But I had to be respectful. I had to be polite.

“Ah, he comes every day, and spends all the day here. You can go talk to him if he’s bothering you.” The woman gave me a look, a deep look, as if she was trying to understand me.

Then she left. Just like that.

Ugh. I swear, if it hadn’t been my mom’s damn last wishes, I would’ve buried her somewhere else.

Stomping my way over to the rude guy, I decided that this was actually a good thing, that way I would get to give him a piece of my mind. This was the world giving me a chance to teach someone a lesson. I should say thank you to that incompetent worker for leaving me to solve this.

“Hey,” I cried as I was getting closer. The guy didn’t react at all.

Acting dumb. The bastard. As if I could possibly be talking to someone else. The cemetery was empty!

“I said, hey!” I huffed as I grabbed his shoulder. That startled him. Startled him bad. The gasp, the wide eyes, and the fifty-meters-into-the-air jump and everything. I couldn’t have cared less even if I tried. The guy was an asshole, it had been decided by me a long time ago, so whatever he got, he deserved.

The guy just stared at me for the longest time, my anger growing with each second that went by.

“M-me?” he finally stuttered.

“No, the ghost behind you. Yes, you! You with the blue coat, you with the tan button shirt. You with the black trousers. You the freaking asshole that was sitting on my mother’s grave. You, fucking you, and nobody else!”

His eyes widened, and then he ran. He ran right past me. So, fast I couldn’t even react.

“Where do…” I asked as I turned around. But he was nowhere to be seen. “What? Where did he go? Stupid jerk actually hiding from me. Man up and face the consequences of your acts!”

A year went by, and it was time to visit my mother again. I bought flowers at the same store. A different cashier was working in this occasion too. It was the same drive to the same plot.

But he was there again. Sitting on my mother’s grave. Again.

I normally didn’t remember people that well, much less people I just saw once. But I had been so angry that day. There was no getting that blue coat out of my mind.

“Hey, you jerk in the blue coat!”

The man flinched visibly and turned around. When he saw me fiercely walking over to him, he jumped up quickly and ran away again. I tried to chase, but there was no sign of him. Why does this bastard keep on running? I wanna tell him off so bad! And I had been unable to do it for a whole year! And this year I wouldn’t be able to either! What am I supposed to do with all the words I’d prepared?

When I ran into the same man for the third consecutive year, I didn’t have the energy to get angry anymore. It had been almost five years since my mother died. I was almost thirty. My anger at the world for the unfairness of taking my mother away from me before I was ready had faded. Instead, I was just exhausted.

I walked over to the grave, wet uncomfortable flowers in my arms, bought at the same store (same cashier from last year, though).

“Could you not sit on her grave?” The words were expelled as I exhaled tiredly.

The man flinched visibly again and turned to look at me with wide eyes.

“Please. This is my mother’s grave. Can you not sit on top of her?”

He got up quickly and I kneeled on the ground with a sigh, putting the new flowers in the vase encased into the top of the tomb.

“She… Umm… You… Er… This flowers are pretty. Please bring more of them.”

“I always bring her flowers. You know this, you’ve seen me.”

“Ah. Yes. But… This… This exact type of flowers. Bring them again next year. And all the coming years. They’re very pretty. Prettier than the ones you’ve brought before.”

What the hell kind of gibberish was this guy spewing?

Turning my head up, I gave him a quizzical look. My original plan was to snap at him, but he looked so uncomfortable, so fidgety, so edgy, that I just looked back down at the grave again.

“Sure, buddy, whatever you say.”

“Tha-thank you very much. Uh, bye then.”

He didn’t have to leave, and as I raised my head to say this, he had already left.

Weirdo.

The sixth time I went to see my mom at the cemetery I could only think of him. Would he be there this year too? The only time I focused on the world around me was when I chose the flowers, taking care to pick the same ones for last year. Other than that, I didn't notice anything else. Not the cashier, not the drive, not the walk to the plot. Would he be there?

He was. He was there. Sitting on her grave again.

That year something finally clicked. Maybe he came to visit my mom. I wasn’t entirely sure how they knew each other, but since he was here every time I came, it was the only explanation. I mean, he clearly knew my mother’s birthday and came every year.

“Hi.” This year I was even more tired than the past. So tired that even the flowers in my arm felt unbearably heavy. “Thank you for always coming on her birthday. She must appreciate it.”

He flinched again, but less than previous years. The man turned to look at me.

“He-hello.” He began fidgeting again. His eyes darted around like a nervous hamster, until they rested on the bouquet. He smiled radiantly and excitedly stared into my eyes. “You bought them! Just like she… Uh, like… Er, the prettier flowers. You bought them. Thank you.”

He was happy as if the flowers were for him and not for my mom. And I understood nothing. What was this guys deal?

Not gonna lie though. His happiness was contagious.

“You said the others I bought were ugly, so of course, I bought the pretty ones again.”

Was I teasing him? Why? What for?

The guy immediately became flustered, stuttering all over the place.

“She-she didn’t… I di-didn’t… My-my words we-were…”

“I know. Relax. It was a joke.”

Was that a smile on my face as I placed the flowers in the vase? Well… I guess he was amusing. Or, teasing him was amusing.

“Ah,” I sighed, looking up at the scorching sun. “Its boiling today. And it should be fresh or slightly cold. The flowers will die quickly like this.”

Looking over to where he was standing, I froze. The tombstone had a shadow. The trees had shadows. The bushes had shadows. The bouquet had a shadow. I had a shadow. But the guy didn’t. The man standing in front of me didn’t have a damn shadow. In fact, as I watched his feet and the ground he was standing on, there was another revelation. The grass around where he stood wasn’t crushed.

“Ah, could you move a bit to the side?” I asked calmly. As if I encountered people that didn’t affect the grass they stepped on and had no shadows every day. “There’s something there.”

He moved to one side as I asked. The grass that had been under his feet was intact.

Memories flashed by my mind. He comes every day, and spends all the day here. When he’d left all the previous years, I never once heard his steps. He looked the same year after year while I gained more and more wrinkles. The weird petition to buy specific flowers. The happiness when I did as he asked. The 'she' he kept mentioning.

“Did my mom like the flowers?”

“Yes!” he said happily. “She liked them very…”

I looked up at him when he fell silent, and found him staring into my eyes for the first time since our chance encounter. His eyes were wide with the same fear from that first time we met.

“Is she here right now?” I asked, voice trembling. “Can she hear me? Can she see me?”

It took a while before he answered, but he did at some point.

“Yes, she’s sitting on the grave.” And he pointed to the place right next to where he always sat.

So, he’d been talking to her. I just couldn’t see her. Only him.

“Mo-mom.” My throat felt so tight. My eyes began to itch with unshed tears. “I love you mom. I’m sorry for what I said… you know… Right before… I’m sorry mom. I don’t blame you for anything. I don’t hate you.”

Not being able to hold back any longer, I began sobbing.

“I’m so-sorry mom. Okay? I love-love-love you. I-I miss you-you,” I choked out through the ugly crying sounds I was making.

“She says she loves you back. And she thanks you very much for bringing her favorite flowers.”

It was a long time before I could finally breathe without choking and hiccupping. Looking around, the man in the blue coat was still there.

“Thank you,” he said softly. And they sounded like the most heart-felt words I’d ever heard. “She has gone to rest now. She finally went off to be reborn. And it’s all thanks to your words.”

There were so many things I could’ve said. So many things I could’ve asked. But none of those were what burbled out of my throat.

“You’ll be lonely now that she’s gone, won’t you?”

He was taken aback. But then he smiled embarrassedly.

“I… I will… It’s not… Um. Yeah. Yeah. I’ll be lonely now. Everyone else here has either moved on, or have been alone here so long they’re not logical anymore.”

“They fired me a few years ago. Told me to deal with my anger problems or something. Haven’t bothered to find anything else since then. The depression was just too crippling. I can easily live out the rest of my life with the money I have saved up. Because I was too busy making dollars to live. I guess, now that decision will come in handy. And now I’m ranting. Okay. So. The point is, I’ll come keep you company.”

What kind of gibberish was I spewing now? What the hell type of hare-brained…

“I’d really like that.”

He had no idea what he was agreeing to.

“I’m not very good company. I’m grumpy. And I have anger management problems. And I’ve been depressed for years now. And I’m not that good at talking. And I won’t…”

“I still appreciate it. Because you want to be here. Talking to me. Most of the entities I talk to don’t come here willingly. They’re here because they have no choice. But you want to come. Out of your own volition.”

What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

“So, what’s your name?” I gave him a sideways look and he smiled shyly.

“I can’t remember. In fact, I can’t remember the last time someone asked for my name either.”

“Ah, well then,” I said, the gears in my mind turning quickly, “I’ll call you Charlie.”

“Charlie,” he mused. “I like it! Thank you.”

Another radiant smile. I looked away because it was too blinding. This guy was too thankful. How lonely had he been all these years? Suddenly, I felt grateful too. For meeting him. Else he might stop being logical too, and… I don’t know, become like the other ghosts that he couldn’t converse with. He hadn’t said, but I felt becoming like them wasn’t a good thing.

“Where is your grave?”

“I can’t remember that either. If I did, I would see the tombstone and read my original name." He laughed at my silly question, and I couldn't blame him. That had not been one of my best moments.

I looked at the grave in front of us, under us, and an idea came to me.

“I’m sure my mom liked you very much if she has been talking to you all these years. So, you can share her grave and tombstone. I’m sure she would be happy to give you a place to call yours. She always had this need to take in strays.”

This way you can sit on the grave all you want, since now it’s yours as well.

“Thank you.” One more radiant smile. This one made my chest feel warm. And the corners of my lips curled slightly up. “You know, your mother told me a lot about you. She loved talking about the stuff you have achieved. Like your degree in…”

As I listened to Charlie talk, a thought occurred to me. It seemed I had inherited my mom’s need to take in strays. And now I understood why she did it.

Prompt:

9. Write about a chance encounter at a cemetary.

Previous Day Next Day

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bixgirl1 · 6 years ago

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New Fic - Glompfest!

Title: Life Lessons Author: Bixgirl1 Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Rating: Heh. Explicit. Word Count: 68k Content/Warnings: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Wandless Magic, Banter and flirting and snark - oh myyy - UST!, accidental kissing, intentional kissing (just really a lot of kissing), Epistolary elements, Auror Harry, Humor, dancing, weird plotty stuff ‘cause I can’t help myself, mentions of childhood trauma and previously-made sexual threats, wanking, oral sex, anal fingering, anal sex, rimming (omfg I just realized I forgot that in my AO3 tags!), intergluteal sex, semi-public sex. Summary: On the cusp of a promotion, Harry needs a little help with his image. Enter Draco Malfoy — who doesn't really do that, Potter — to whip him into shape… and make him feel things he hasn't for a very long time. Featuring: odd jobs, surprising chemistry, lots of accidental kissing, the Prophet living up to type, owls exhausted by the carrying of dirty letters, a secret no one can talk about, a merry band of Slytherins (none of whom really approve), and an enchanted mirror (who really, really does).

Author’s Notes: For @m4g0rtz. I’ve wanted to write for you for the LONGEST time, sweets. Your comments before we met always made me absolutely light up, and then I got to know you and I realized you’re just as fabulous as you seemed. Your friendship has meant so much to me from the beginning, and this fest gave me the perfect excuse to say so in fic; I hope you can forgive my sneakiness while I wrote this for you. lolol.

A huge thanks to my lovely betas, @lqtraintracks and @coriesocks. You guys were both so effing patient with me and both so encouraging and helpful - you made this like a zillion times better than it would have been otherwise. <333333

And a huge thanks to the mods, too, for running such a fun, wonderful fest!

Excerpt (under the cut):

It was one of the most fundamental truths of Harry’s life: as soon as things were going well, everything would turn to shit.

You’re a wizard, Harry — just be on guard for that murderer hunting you. You have a godfather, Harry — but be careful not to get too attached to him. From his relationship with Ginny (which never got back off the ground after the war) to his life after defeating Voldemort (which would never resemble anything approaching normal), there was always some sort of caveat. Privately, he called it “End of the School Year Syndrome.”

The fact that this time it had actually been scheduled for late June was simply ironic.

“That’s not even six weeks away,” Hermione said, frowning.

“Your confidence in me is inspirational,” Harry said. “And the maths isn't really what I’m having a problem with.” He took the invitation back from her and re-buried his face in one of the sofa pillows. It smelled a little like feet and Ron’s deodorant, as though Ron had Transfigured it into a footstool and then only had time to hastily return it to form and freshen it with a charm before Hermione saw and got on him again about just using one of their existing footstools. Harry tossed it to the floor, face smooshing against the sofa cushion as he blindly reached out in search of another pillow. He heard Hermione huff just as one hit him on the back of the head. Harry shoved it under his face. “Thanks,” he said, muffled.

There was a beat of silence, and then Hermione sighed and rested her hand against the back of his head. “How long do you need to sulk?” she asked, stroking her fingers through his hair.

Harry slumped a little deeper. “Five weeks.”

“I’ll give you until Ron gets back with dinner,” she said, more to herself than him. "And for goodness’ sake, Harry, at least take off your glasses.”

Harry managed to take them off without lifting his head or breaking them — proof, he supposed, that he wasn’t entirely incompetent. Hermione took them from his hand and rose with a final, fluttering pat on his shoulder blade. Harry exhaled and tried to consider his options, but was quickly lulled by the drum of the rain on the windowpanes and the pop of the fire. He listened to Hermione putter around her kitchen and relaxed; more than for the advice or commiseration, this was why he’d come, if he was honest. Ron and Hermione’s cottage was homey, calm, most of their furniture crafted from Ron’s magic, the air inside scented by the lavender Hermione had planted in the beds below their windows. Harry missed the company, and the lived-in quality of the tiny flat they’d shared before Ron and Hermione moved out, the distracted mess of three people training for unrelated careers, always someone either there or about to be.

He liked the flat he'd moved into on his own just fine, but working the hours he did left it with a silent, sterile quality he could never seem to get rid of, even when he left the wireless on or avoided laundry for a few days. He’d tried to spruce it up more than once, but Neville wouldn’t even let him buy plants anymore, not after the Solicitous Succulents he’d brought over on Boxing Day — When they bloom, they emit soothing pheromones! You can’t kill them, they barely need any attention! — had weaponised their thorns within an hour of Nev’s arrival; a defensive measure they took when they were in danger of drying out, Neville told him later, and one he’d thought was a myth.

The sound of Ron’s Apparition to their front door roused Harry from his reverie, but he didn’t get up. He heard the rustle of takeaway being opened and dished out, a low hum of murmurs, and his own name — and then Ron shouted, “What the bloody fuck?” and stomped, fuming, into the parlour. “They’re not going to give it to you?”

Harry pushed up from his prone position and shrugged as Ron glowered down at him. “They might,” he said. “Robards said they might still.”

“Give over,” Ron said, and Harry dutifully scooted to make space. Ron threw himself down onto the sofa. “It’s utter shit, Harry.”

“I know.”

“He’s been telling you that job’s yours for… for years!”

“I know.”

“You’ve worked longer hours and closed more cases than anyone in the entire department!” Ron said. His outrage was soothing, both to Harry’s temper and his self-esteem, and a grateful smile tugged at Harry’s lips.

“I know,” he said again.

"You should just run," Ron spat. "Hermione's been saying it, we'll organise a campaign--"

"We'd have no time to prepare for it now. Besides, even if I wanted to, it would look… wrong. Robards would step aside, but… He didn't even have to run in the last election five years ago, and and no one's ever won who wasn't backed by both the exiting Head Auror, the Minister, and at least half the Wizengamot," Harry said, shaking his head when Ron took another deep breath and opened his mouth. “And anyway, Robards said it's not as simple at that.”

“The age thing again?”

Harry scowled. “I wish.”

Twice before, Robards had put off retiring when certain members of the Wizengamot had made it plain that, no matter Harry’s accomplishments to date, they had no intention of promoting someone barely into their twenties to the position of Head Auror. Trying not to take issue with their reasoning — or the extra work Robards piled on him to make a point of his capabilities — Harry’d not made a single complaint as his twenty-third and twenty-fourth birthdays ticked by. But with every successfully closed case since, Robards had assured him that by his twenty-fifth he’d have his promotion.

And then he’d called Harry in for a meeting today, offering Harry a drink before he’d even sat down.

Ron made a disgruntled sound and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s the problem this time?”

“As I was trying to tell you, husband-mine,” Hermione said dryly, walking in and levitating three plates behind her, “It's supposedly Harry.”

“What's Harry?” Ron asked, shooting her a sheepish look. He lifted two of the plates from midair, passing one over to Harry. The salty grease of Ron’s selection — fish and chips — teased at Harry’s senses and he tried to recall when he ate last. Breakfast, probably.

“The problem,” Hermione said, taking her own plate and sitting between them. “It’s Harry.”

“And I’m supposed to be the tactless one,” Ron stage-whispered to him.

“I’m not a problem,” Harry said, pulling a wounded face at Hermione.

She made a little sound of protest. “I didn’t—”

“Arguing with her never ends well,” Ron said. “You might as well just get on board with being a problem, capital P.”

“I don’t want to be a Problem,” Harry said. He turned beseeching eyes at Hermione. “Couldn’t I be something like Trouble instead?”

Ron nodded sagely. “You’ve got enough experi—”

“Oh my god, fine!” Hermione said, dropping her utensils on her plate. Cheered by the clear exasperation on her face, Harry laughed and looked at Ron, who popped three chips in his mouth and quirked her an unrepentant grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and elbowed Ron, but the look she shot him was fond and warm. “Hush, or you’ll end up with your own problem — with a capital P,” she said warningly. She turned back to Harry. “There is a point to be considered about your image, that's not wrong.”

“Hermione!” Ron said, but Hermione looked at Harry steadily, waiting. Expectant.

Harry frowned, effectively distracted from distracting himself. He squeezed a lemon wedge over his fish and opened a packet of vinegar, sprinkling it over his chips to buy some time.

“Well, it's not right,” he said at length.

“No, I know,” Hermione said, gaze softening.

“All right, can someone actually explain then?” Ron asked, waving his fork at each of them in turn and then stabbing, a little viciously, into his fish.

“It’s me. My conduct outside of work isn’t ‘befitting a senior Ministry position,’” he quoted, sounding sullen to his own ears. “The way I talk to the press, or the way I avoid them. Maybe both. The Head Auror is responsible for releasing public statements, and you know me.”

“So?” Ron said, brows drawing together. “You’re a little short-tempered with them, so what? S’not like they’re ever asking you about cases, are they? It’s always about who you’re seeing, or was that really your bum in those pictures. It’s been almost three years since you hexed one of them. Just write up the statements and release them that way.”

“There’s other things, too,” Harry said. He flushed. “The way I am with the public—”

“You’re great with the public!” Ron said, starting to look angry again. “You talk to every kid you meet, you donate, you—”

“I lose my temper with people, though.” Harry took a breath. “I arrested that man last year who wouldn’t leave me alone—”

“He was trying to shove his hand down the back of your trousers!” Ron sputtered.

“—and that whole thing in the Prophet questioning how much of an asset I could be to the Ministry when my name got in the way of my job… Well, it got a lot of traction,” Harry said. He looked down at his plate, stomach suddenly churning. “And whenever I go to public events, I stay on the sidelines, or I’m accidentally rude to some diplomat—”

“That happened twice!”

“Four times.” Harry grimaced. “More, really. Apart from little things like spilling wine all over Ireland’s Minister for Magic or insulting that envoy from Brazil by having to leave early when I got sick off the Firerolls they served at their event, apparently my dress robes are all wrong, I’ve not once used the correct fork, I may as well eat my feet for how often they’re in my mouth, and I refuse to dance, no matter who’s asking.”

“Well you’re not good at it!” Ron fairly yelled, getting so red in the face his freckles were barely visible. “How the bloody hell can anyone blame you after what happened last time!”

Read the rest on AO3

#new fic #my fic #glompfest #life lessons #gift fic #for m4g0rtz #you wonderful darling #drarry

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k-pop-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

Aurora || Chapter 2

> Aurora Masterlist <

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x OC

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none

A/N: This is probably the longest chapter of anything I have ever written, wow. Seonghwa makes his first appearance in this chapter, that’s all I’m going to say. I hope you enjoy! - Admin Soomi

° AUFREGUNG °

-> excitement, anxiety, commotion

When she woke up the next morning and took a look in the mirror, she could only sigh at her appearance. Her mother was only joking at dinner but after a night of restless sleep, the circles under Yeseul’s eyes seemed a lot more prominent than usual. She put on a light layer of casual makeup to hide the fatigue on her face.

Her mother had already left for work and even though it was very early in the morning, she had left her a reassuring note, a lunch box, and a small plate of fresh pancakes on the kitchen table. She hadn’t eaten those in ages! Her father used to make them every Sunday but after moving to Seoul, eating pancakes became nothing more than a pleasant memory. Yeseul dug in and despite her stomach demonstrating a little because of her nervousness, she tried to enjoy her special breakfast as much as she could. They were different than the ones they ate in Germany, but she appreciated that her mother had taken the time to prepare them for her.

After finishing her meal and once more making sure that she looked presentable, she went on her way to the agency. Lucky for her, the building was only a few subway stops away from her home so it took her about 20 minutes to reach her destination. The first thing she noticed, was the 7/11 on the ground floor next to the agency’s entrance. That would surely prove to be convenient.

Yeseul hesitated at the door that would lead her to KQ Entertainment. First, her excitement and anxiety were fairly well balanced, but within a few seconds, the latter doubled and overpowered her. This was her dream but all the doubts and worries she had managed to push away last night, came crashing down on her again. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Before she could let her thoughts get the better of her, she pressed the doorbell. No turning back now.

“Hello?” “Uhh, hello. I’m Hwang Yeseul and I have an appointment for 8 am.” God, why did that sound she was here to see a doctor? Stop overthinking, she quickly reprimanded herself. “Ah, yes! Come up please.”

The door buzzed and she hesitantly entered the building. The stairway she found herself in was bright, mostly white and grey but a few potted plants made sure it didn’t look too sterile. She walked up to the 3rd floor where she was greeted by a man who introduced himself as Kang Haejun, the same person she had talked to on the phone last night. He was a head taller than her, a bit chubby and addressed her with a warm smile that reached his eyes. “Welcome, I’m glad to see you! Please follow me, the CEO is ready to talk to you.”

Yeseul followed him through the office. She politely greeted a few people but didn’t have a lot of time to look around. The place wasn’t very big but she assumed they occupied more than this one floor as she hadn’t seen any practice rooms or studios yet. At the far end of a corridor, Mr. Kang knocked on a door and sent her inside after getting a short “Come in.” from the other side.

She carefully entered what she realized to be the CEO’s office and closed the door behind her.

A man behind the desk stood up and motioned for her to sit down. As soon as she took her seat opposite him, she suddenly felt very vulnerable. The CEO seemed like a friendly man but he was still the person who would be in charge of her future, whose hands she’d be putting her career in.

“I’m Kim Gyuwook and as you’ve already heard, we want you to train under our agency. I’ve got the contract prepared but I’d like to discuss the conditions and rules with you beforehand. It’s also very important to me that I get to know my trainees a little before I allow them to start training. So, I have a few questions.” Yeseul nodded shyly and he continued. “Don’t be nervous, though, I won’t interrogate you.”

He pulled out a piece of paper which she recognized to be the profile she had sent in with her application.

“Your profile says you speak English, German, and Korean fluently.” “Yes. I grew up bilingual, my mother is Korean and my father German. I also started learning English at a very young age.” "Do you speak any other languages?” “I learned French in school but I don’t speak it too well anymore. I forgot everything except for the basics after graduating, to be honest.”

The CEO let out a small laugh. “I feel like that’s a common theme for French learners somehow.”

He took a few notes before going on.

“Are you working right now or studying at university?”

“I currently work part-time at a convenience store. I already talked to the owner and I can schedule my shifts in a way that they wouldn’t coincide with practice hours.”

“That’s good. Now, why exactly do you want to become a trainee, or rather, an idol?”

She knew that question would be asked eventually and she had thought about how she would answer countless times before. “Back when I lived in Germany, I discovered K-Pop when I was going through kind of a rough patch. The music helped me become a happier person again and inspired me to become a singer. I want to stand on stage and give the same kind of encouragement and motivation to other people.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that this won’t be easy. You might not actually debut anytime soon. In fact, there’s a chance you might never debut. It all depends on you and your determination.”

“I’m willing to go through it and take the risks if it means I get to do what I love and dream of.”

“Very well.” He gave her a satisfied smile and moved on.

“It’s not a secret that all entertainment companies have a variety of rules for their trainees to follow and we are of course no exception. They are all mentioned in the contract but I would like to go over them with you so that there won’t be any misunderstandings.” Mr. Kim handed her a list of regulations and explained each of them thoroughly.

Yeseul was allowed to have a cellphone but usage during classes and schedules was not permitted. She was also not allowed to post on social media from now on.

Trainees were not allowed to date at all and artists had a dating ban until two years after their debut.

However, they didn’t care too much about keeping their male and female trainees apart, unlike other companies she heard of that wouldn’t even let them be in the same room together. “You know, how it works. If you forbid them, they will try to meet in secret all the more. There’s nothing wrong with making friends but if we do notice anyone getting too distracted though, we will take appropriate measures”, he explained.

No smoking, drinking, or taking drugs. That one was fairly obvious.

The part she was wondering about the most was the weight regulations. “There will be weekly weigh-ins. There is a weight range stated in your contract that you should stay in. We expect our trainees to be able to take care of appropriate calorie intake and healthy workout on their own. Unless you exceed that range or fall below it, we won’t be regulating your diet or putting you on a work-out routine.”

She considered that a fair amount of freedom.

Yeseul also had the choice to move into a dorm with some of the other female trainees but she decided not to as she didn’t live too far away from the company anyway.

“Now, let’s talk about your training schedule. I don’t think I need to tell you that your vocals are great. There’s always room for improvement but you already have a good technique and stability.” Yeseul had taken singing lessons for a few years and actually felt fairly confident when it came to that. She dreaded what she knew was coming next, though.

“However, your dancing is lacking.” She looked away in embarrassment. She had made sure to practice and learn a few basics before auditioning but she was well aware that she was definitely not very talented.

“There’s potential, don’t worry. It’s nothing our dance teachers can’t fix. Some of our trainees started out way worse and managed to become decent dancers. You’ll just have to practice a lot more than others. Which is why you will also be taking more dance classes than singing classes to get you on one level with the others.”

That made sense. “In addition to that, you will also be taking Japanese, acting, and modeling classes. Evaluations are once a week, every Saturday, and you will be recording demos in the studio every second week. Lessons in general start at 2pm every day as most of the trainees still go to school in the morning but you can practice on your own at every time of the day. Sundays are off.”

He slid her a piece of paper with her schedule. Today, she would have vocal lessons at 2pm and dance lessons from 4pm to 8pm but as there were evaluations, she would only be watching and starting the real training on Monday.

“Be aware that if you don’t meet our expectations during evaluations or break any of the rules, the contract will be terminated.”

She voiced her understanding and after a few more questions from the CEO, he handed her the contract and showed her where to sign. She read through everything twice as he watched patiently, then signed, ready to start this new part of her life.

It was almost 10am when Kim Gyuwook dismissed her from his office with a handshake and wished her good luck. She still had a few hours until vocal lessons were supposed to start so she contemplated going home and taking a nap when Kang Haejun walked up to her offered her a tour around the agency. She gratefully agreed.

He showed her around the office first, introducing her to a few people she would regularly be working with personally. Everyone was busy but still found the time to give her at least a friendly smile or wave. Just like she expected, KQ Entertainment occupied multiple levels of the building. The 3rd consisted of the office and various meeting rooms. He then led her down to the 2nd floor where the practice rooms and studios were located. She couldn’t take a look inside any of the rooms yet as almost all of the trainees were busy practicing for the evaluations but she made a mental note on where she would find the rooms later. There was also a small kitchen and break rooms with sofas on both of the floors. While showing her around, Mr. Kang also answered any other questions she had.

He told her that they were currently training a total of 7 trainees including her. They had about 12 male trainees but apparently, eight of them were already training separately as they would be debuting as a group sometime in the second half of the year. He also let her know that she was actually one of the oldest trainees, being born in August of 1998. It made her worry a little. She knew that most trainees started their training at a way younger age. She was 19 years old now, could that be considered too old already? Would it lower her chances of debuting? She decided not to worry too much. If she was too old they wouldn’t have accepted her in the first place.

After the tour, more detailed explanations and an extensive Q&A session it was almost 12pm. She felt a little bad for taking up Mr. Kang’s time but he reassured her that it was actually his job to introduce the new trainees to everything and make sure they felt comfortable. He also gave her his number and told her to contact her if she had any more questions or worries before returning to his office.

It didn’t make sense for Yeseul to go home before practice anymore. She remembered the lunch box her mother had packed her but decided to save it for later as she didn’t really feel like eating because of her nervousness. Still, she should eat at least something small, so she decided to head down to the convenience store to get a snack, something to reward herself taking this important step and to maybe even calm her nerves a little.

The young woman headed downstairs into the 7/11, where was greeted by a friendly, elderly man. She bowed with a smile before she started browsing.

As she walked through the narrow aisle, looking for an appropriate snack to celebrate today’s events, a group of boys entered the store. “We should get some chips for later!” “Aren’t you on a diet?” “Hyung, don’t be like that! I’ll just work out extra hard next week.”

She scanned the shelves and couldn’t help but quietly snicker at their bickering. She looked over at them for a second, counting three young men. Yeseul didn’t pay them too much attention, even though they were hard to ignore, and instead continued her search. Just as she was about to grab a chocolate bar, her eyes landed on the freezer. It was February, still cold outside, and she had just been told about the weight regulations. Was it really appropriate to buy ice cream now? Yes, it is, Yeseul decided. It was one of her comfort foods so she shrugged, opened the door of the freezer and reached up. Whoever had put her favorite ice cream on the highest shelf surely must hold a personal vendetta against her. She wasn’t tiny, only a few centimeters under average height but this was troublesome. Just as her fingertips brushed against the plastic packaging, a figure next to her reached out and handed the sweet treat to her. Yeseul’s face lit up in excitement and she quickly bowed to the kind stranger. “Thank you so much!” When she looked up, she was met with the shyly smiling face of a man around her age, part of the group who had caused the commotion. He seemed quieter than the other two though, who she could still hear arguing over which snacks to get.

“It’s not a problem. Is Melona your favorite?” His was voice soothing and hinting curiosity even though he was nervously rubbing his neck. She nodded eagerly in response. “Yes! It’s the best thing to eat when you want to celebrate, even when it’s cold outside…” She mentally scolded herself for rambling. She couldn’t help it, the sudden inquiry surprised her. Not that she minded, he seemed friendly and wasn’t overbearing at all. Yeseul could see he was about to ask what exactly she was celebrating but his two friends interrupted him.

“Seonghwa-hyung, I will buy these chips now and you can’t stop me.” One of them said as he headed to the counter to pay. The other one motioned for your savior to come over as they were getting ready to head out. The stranger, apparently named Seonghwa, gave you an apologetic smile, you bowed and wished each other a good day before he left with his friends.

Could it be that they were trainees as well? All three of them looked awfully handsome, they talked about dieting and working out, and went shopping right at this store. The fact that they were also dressed in sports clothes led her to make that assumption. At the same time, it could have just been a coincidence. At the latest, she’d find out if she ran into them at the agency.

#seonghwa imagine #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa scenario #seonghwa fanfiction #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez fanfiction #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez #aurora #kpop #k-pop #kpop imagine #k-pop imagine

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 5 years ago

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Killer Queen - Chapter 9: Coming Soon

Summary: Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

Warning(s): none that I can see

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty ask to be on my taglist!

Inspired by: A Night At The Opera, various Marauders headcanons I’ve seen on Pinterest, this quarantine business, The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god on AO3, All The Young Dudes by MsKingBean89 on AO3

Word count: 4.3k+ (holy shit)

A/N: I beg of you follow Ruth's advice on how to handle a record because some people do it Wrong. Don't be one of those people, please. Somehow, she's 16 now which is weird, but not that weird seen as she is literally a figment of my own imagination. This chapter is over 4000 words long which makes it the longest thing I've ever written.

I’m thinking about changing the point of view again. I’m currently in first but I might change it to third. First is good for funny scenes like in this chapter, but it’s not ideal for the deeper stuff I have planned later. Yes, I have a plot. Shock horror. But we shall wait and see on that one. If I do change it, I won’t edit the previous chapters to fit it because I really can’t be bothered.

Everyone, please stay safe because of what's going on and stay optimistic and occupied. For example, I'll have more time to write! It's a scary time but it will pass, like everything does at some point. OK I've gotten too philosophical. I shall stop now. This chapter is sponsored by me calling Dr Brian Harold May 'Clog Man'. This chapter title comes from Queen's 1980 album, 'The Game'.

“Good morning, peasants!” I declared as I quite literally swept into Transfiguration that morning, a crown perched precariously atop of my head, my robe billowing behind me. My dearest courtiers trailed along in my wake, begrudgingly carrying my belongings. How generous of them, I thought to myself, as if they had had any say in the matter in the first place. My loyal subjects celebrated my entrance and I gracefully sat down in my assigned seat, feet on the table, chair tipped back at precisely the right angle. I didn’t want to fall and get a concussion, now did I? Especially not on that day of all days.

Now you may wonder what on Gaia’s green earth I am on about, you may begin to question my sanity, you may finally start to piece the clues together and realise I am in fact, a total nutter. About time you did, if I’m completely honest with you, darling. However, like most of my shenanigans, the reason for all this was a well-founded one, if I did say so myself. For Twas my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be precise, and that meant I got to be queen for a day. Not as long as I would like but hey ho, it was better than nothing. I had all the time in the world to take over the world so being queen could wait for now. Even better than this temporary monarchy, becoming sixteen came with plenty of hobbies I could now I enjoy legally, such as having sex, smoking and drinking wine in a restaurant. As if the law had stopped me before. Following the law is for the weak and my mother did not raise me to be anything of the sort.

Now as a queen such as myself, it is my regal responsibility to keep up appearances, which, to put it simply, meant to look pretty damn fabulous at all times. Hence why I was sporting a magnificent golden crown enchanted to stay on my head for the whole day and matching robe-cloak-thing. You know what I’m on about. Personally, I was rather pleased with my attire. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for one Minerva McGonagall.

An exasperated sigh from the front of the classroom was reluctantly followed by, “White, dare I ask why you are not in proper uniform?” she gestured vaguely at my majestic outfit.

“It would certainly be rather daring of you, professor,” I replied, without missing a beat. A classic raised eyebrow went my way, so I let out a sigh of my own before saying, “Tis my sixteenth birthday, dearest Minnie. If I have to attend lessons on such an occasion, then I must be allowed to dress appropriately.”

“And you consider a crown half as big as yourself to be appropriate for school?” her wonderfully Scottish voice quipped back.

“Why of course ma’am, you see it’s what I like to call my thinking cap,” I grinned broadly at her before joining a giggling Sirius who had gone to great lengths to keep it all in.

But nothing in this godforsaken world, and I do not say that lightly, could have prepared me for Minnie’s response: “Then perhaps it will do you some good.” She turned to the blackboard behind her to begin the lesson I had partly succeeded in delaying.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well. I clutched at my chest as if I’d been shot, and believe me it felt like I had been, and dramatically fell into the arms of James, as he was the unfortunate soul who sat next to me. I weakly reached up to touch his face as they do in the muggle movies, made a mental note to remind him to fucking shave and heaved out, “Jamie, I won’t last much longer but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What, my darling? What is it?” he asked, faithfully going along with my foolish antics as always, the poor sod.

“I…love…” I whispered before going limp in his arms as if I was dead.

“Ruth, my love, no!” he hugged my ‘corpse’ while sobbing rather profoundly.

Sirius leapt to his feet (I had to open my eyes slightly for this bit) and declared, “What do you mean ‘my love’? Ruth has been the love of my life since I first laid eyes on her!”

“You foul fiend! Ruth was the second reason for my very existence after Evans, thank you very much!” James too jumped up, leaving me to flop onto the stone floor with an ungraceful ‘ugh’. I could sense Lily’s annoyance from the other side of the classroom.

James and Sirius both grabbed their wands, pointed them at one another, but instead of cursing each other, they used them like fencing swords. Just before Sirius could ‘stab’ James, I myself jumped up and cried, “Wait!” at the same time Minnie yelled, “Enough!”

Naturally, we took no notice of this.

Both boys turned to look at me, only for me to say, “I don’t love either of you. I love Remus!” I pointed at the boy in question who in turn smirked his classic smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by an infuriated Minnie, “I said enough! Sit down, all three of you or it’s detention for a week!” Now I was pretty sure she was only letting us off because she was well aware that if I was given detention on my birthday, I would certainly not go. I’d like to think it was because she loved us dearly, but my mother didn’t raise me to be a liar either. Considering the circumstances, a.k.a. my huge fucking party I had planned for later on, I did what I almost never did.

I sat down.

Not without a snarky “ooooooooh” of course.

Naturally, Minnie wasn’t all that impressed with my reply, “Evans, swap seats with White, please.”

Naturally, I wasn’t all that impressed with her reply either, “Professor, are you seriously going to move me on my birthday?”

“That is correct.”

“Miss, that’s not fair, I haven’t even done anything that bad, we’re all in one piece, aren’t we? Besides, why is it only me that’s getting moved, what’s up with that?”

“You’re not the only one I’m moving, I’m also moving Evans, am I not?” she snapped, not at all pleased with my outburst, “Now please move seats, you are disrupting my lesson.”

I pouted like a little child on the naughty step, grabbed my stuff together and plonked myself where Lily had been sitting, next to a girl who had only started in September, from Greece or Italy or somewhere. I suddenly realised Lily was now sitting next to James, so I felt the need to apologise, “Sorry, Lily!”, I said in a similar manner to a kid who was forced to say sorry to their sibling after hitting them. She just shot me a reproachful look which had me fearing for my life for a second, before turning to the lesson that could finally begin.

Obviously, I wasn’t exactly keen to take part in the lesson, so I opted for attempting to get to know my new desk partner, “You’re the new girl, right?”

I was met with a blank stare and confusion from both parties until something clicked for me: if she had just moved here from another country then she probably didn’t speak much English.

Well shit.

I tried again, simplifying my language but hopefully not sounding too patronising, “Are you new?”

The poor girl still strongly resembled a deer in headlights but nodded, “Yes?”

“What’s your name, darling?” I was determined to get to know this girl, she seemed nice enough and, knowing from experience what it felt like to be the new kid, I felt a strange urge to help her.

She cocked her head to the side in confusion, now looking like an owl of some sort. It was at this point where I gave up and just waved her off, “Don’t worry.” If Minnie was as adamant about me staying in this seat as I suspected, I’d have plenty of time later to try and talk to this girl. Maybe when she knew a bit more English. Or maybe I could teach her some? Well saying that I’m not sure how good of a teacher I would actually be. I’d probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

The rest of the school day carried on in a similar fashion, with the usual jokes played out in a more dramatic manner than usual. Fine by me. The end of lessons couldn’t come soon enough but at last, they were over. Meaning I could finally, finally, open my damn presents.

Well, I say presents, but me being the impatient bastard that I am, I actually opened most of them that morning at breakfast. Which involved about a year’s supply of chocolate, a 10-pack of condoms and no less than three boxes of tea from various posh shops in London. And a hell of a lot of magical alcohol, which was far better than the muggle stuff, but we don’t talk about that. There was only one present left and that was the one from the woman who birthed me. I realise that I have led you under false pretences of sentiment towards my dear mother, and while I do in fact over her greatly, this is not the case. It was actually because our family owl, Bob (don’t ask me why he’s called fucking Bob, Rhea named him), is quite possibly slower than a bloody snail and took the whole day to fly from Cromer to Scotland.

I ran up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, which is saying something considering I don’t run for anything, and there it was, laying on what was basically my bed when Kingsley wasn’t around, wrapped in shining gold paper, my birthday present. Instantly I got a huge sense of déjà vu, as I knew exactly what it was.

A vinyl record.

Because what else do I do with my spare time these days?

I carefully picked it up, observing it in the stream of November sunlight coming from the window. Judging from the size and weight of it, it was definitely an album, my excitement increasing tenfold. I opened it as carefully as possible to discover that it was indeed Queen’s new album. Their iconic crest was printed on the front in a loud colour scheme of orange and pink. The title was written in black cursive: ‘A Night At The Opera’. The whole thing, though relatively simple in its design, screamed regalness.

I was so mesmerised by it that I didn’t even see the envelope on the bed until I very nearly sat on it. My mum’s familiar handwriting addressed me on the front of it and inside was a card with the most gorgeous watercolour print of the Cromer Pier which had me missing it terribly. I opened it to read what she had written and I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face.

To Ruth,

Happy birthday, darling! It’s hard to believe you’re 16 now, I still see you as my gorgeous baby girl! I know I can’t see you on your special day, but half term is less than a month away – you’ll be home before we know it!

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done, and we all love you very much. Have a wonderful day with your friends!

Lots of love,

Mum, Rhea and Luke xxx

P.S. Don’t tell Mum but I got you a sort of magical cactus from Diagon Alley but I’ll give it to you when you come back – Rhea

P.P.S What Rhea forgot to tell you is that the cactus was my idea, I just didn’t have any pocket money left after going to the sweet shop - Luke

I smiled at the message and at my siblings’ additions at the bottom and found myself missing them more than I anticipated. I put on my bedside table, next to the magical photo us the boys and me which never failed to make me laugh. It was of us knee-deep in the Great Lake, around the July of our third year. James had his back to the camera but still showed his face and his lopsided grin; he was carrying Sirius over his shoulder like a fireman, the latter of which was showing his middle finger to the camera as best he could. Peter was mid-fall in front of them, just seconds before face-planting the water. Remus was to the right of them, trying his best to avoid getting wet from Peter’s inevitable splash, his face all screwed up in an attempt to protect his eyes. I was trying to hoist myself up onto Remus’s shoulders, which wouldn’t have been so difficult if he wasn’t so fucking tall, even at 14 he was a giant. The photo was magical, so we were all moving around as we had been at the time. I was lucky enough to have caught the exact moment I pulled my wand out and cast the aguamenti charm, aiming at everyone’s head but more importantly, James and Sirius’s hair. The photo was an endless cycle of me jumping up, casting the spell and being chased around by everyone before going back to our original positions.

I reluctantly turned away from the treasured photo, picked up the album and turned to run to the Room Of Requirement so I could listen to the artistry I held in my undeserving hands. Somehow, my close good friends beat me to it; there they stood in the doorway, carrying my dear record player between them with wide grins on their faces, not altogether dissimilar from the one James sported in the photograph.

I wondered for a second how the vinyl got itself onto my bed, and how the boys knew they had to get my record player, but then I realised my mother must have told them in advance. She may have been a Hufflepuff, but I do sometimes think she would have made a fine Slytherin. Surprise kids, I don’t have a prejudice against the entirety of Slytherin house, just the ones who are, quite frankly, dickheads. Not my fault if that’s the majority of them.

They popped my dear baby on the floor and sat down various surfaces: the floor, their beds, Remus’s lap (*cough cough* Sirius *cough cough*). I ever-so-carefully removed the vinyl from its sleeve and placed it onto the turntable, only touching the outermost edges so as to not get grease into the grooves of the record. Now, I can’t be ruining it already.

“I hope you know we love you enough to carry that thing all the way here,” Sirius whined, mopping non-existent sweat from his forehead using’s Remus’s poor jumper. The audacity he had to refer to my precious record player as ‘that thing’. I didn’t hit him, which is very unlike me, but I refused to sink to his level. Twat.

“Thank you darling but I think, in the midst of wanting to show off your varying levels of strength, you all forgot you could simply levitate my baby here,” I flopped onto Remus’s bed (by far the cleanest one) as Peter repeatedly smacked James with a pillow, “What did I say, James? What did I fucking say?”

Poor James just groaned at him to stop, arms up in a quite frankly pathetic bid to protect himself. He looked at me helplessly, but I just shook my head with a cheeky smirk on my face, “Nope, you got yourself into this mess, I’m not getting involved.”

Sirius, on the other hand, was laughing so much that Remus had to move him from lying against his chest to having his head in his lap to prevent him from hurting himself. I was half-convinced that Sirius was in fact having a heart attack but at this point, I was not nearly drunk enough to put up with his bullshit. Oh yeah, forgot to mention we each took a shot after breakfast seen as it’s my birthday, only increasing our chances of getting alcohol poisoning within the next weekend or so. But let’s be honest, I’m only using my birthday as an excuse to drink more alcohol at eight o’clock in the morning.

A few more smacks and one case of concussion later, we had all calmed down enough for me to play my goddamn record. Suspense hung in the air as the tiny crackles of an unused record sounded, followed by a crescendo of lightning-fast piano. Definitely not what I expected from a song entitled ‘Death On Two Legs (Dedicated To…)’, until Brian’s slightly menacing guitar burst through the speakers. The rest of the carried on in a similar fashion, fancy piano and angry guitar combined with lyrics I could only describe as savage. I made a mental note to look at the enclosed lyrics later on to see what exactly Freddie was singing, as even for my standards it was rather mean. I also couldn’t help but wonder who this was dedicated to and what they had done for Freddie to sing about them in such a manner. Must be quite the dickhead. Maybe someone like Snivellus. You can’t get much worse than Snivellus.

The next song was called ‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ and I couldn’t help but giggle throughout it. It felt very vintage, the singing was distorted somewhat, but it seemed more as if they were taking the mick out of the genre. It was a little thing, hardly a couple of minutes long, and soon transitioned to ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, which I distinctly remembered from the B-side of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. That song will never fail to make me laugh. How a man can be so attached to his car, I’ll never know.

Those comedic masterpieces were followed by ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which I fell in love with within the first five seconds. The adorable little piano, the adorable little lyrics, the adorable little bass, okay I could go on like this for hours, but the point is that I loved this song and would gladly be its friend, were it a person. Yeah, I may have been a tad tipsy, might have had something to do with the shots we took between lessons on top of the one at breakfast. I had wanted to maintain a state of slight tipsiness throughout the day. Moving swiftly on.

‘39’ was next, and it was safe to say that I wasn’t expecting any of it. At first, the guitar made me chuckle, then the realisation that it was just vocals, guitar and fucking tambourine, and then the fact that it was almost certainly a county song about space. Brian was singing, of course it was Brian, and I seemed to have forgotten how talented a singer he actually is. And a songwriter because let’s be real, there is no way in hell that anyone in the band apart from Clog Man wrote this.

‘Sweet Lady’ came after that, which contrasted ‘39’ so much that it basically gave me whiplash. To be honest, I should have seen that coming seeing as that was how Queen seemed to work, a heavy rock song followed by something completely different and so on and so on. You’d think you’d grow tired of constantly changing styles but somehow Queen pulled it off magnificently, as they did with pretty much anything they set their minds to. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, don’t get me wrong it was a cool song, just not quite my cup of tea. I felt a little bit guilty about not liking it, but I forced myself to remember that I didn’t have to like every song on the album in order to be a fan.

‘Seaside Rendezvous’ was the next song and the last one on side A. I found it very quirky and much more to my liking. I could easily imagine myself going for a stroll down the beach back at home while humming this. And potentially dancing to it down the pier. Although I would look quite the crackhead as no one else would be able to hear it; but since when did I care about looking like a twat? I was already friends with plenty of twats, I stopped caring years ago. Somewhere in the middle of the song, there was a part that sounded like an orchestra of some kind, but I could tell Roger had something to do with the woodwind section, which led to some rather interesting images in my mind. Make of that what you will. The tap-dancing part made me laugh because I highly doubted that any of them could actually tap dance, leading to me wondering how to the fuck they did that. My brain also thought it was necessary to conjure up some cursed images of Brian tap-dancing in his clogs. Fucking hell, what was wrong with me?

As quickly and carefully as I could, I flipped the record onto the B-side, which started off with ‘The Prophet’s Song’. I was so naïve to think that ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ was long; this bad boy was all of eight minutes and basically a musical on its own, worthy of the likes of the West End or Broadway. The absolute artistry of the lyrics and the music quickly made it one of my favourites so far, which was saying something as I loved the whole damn album anyway. There was a good couple of minutes of straight acapella, mainly just countless overdubs of Freddie singing ‘no I know’ at various different pitches; then Roger and Brian joining in for a chorus of ‘la la la la la’. It was strangely creepy, and I had yet to figure out if that was their intention.

That then flowed almost seamlessly into ‘Love Of My Life’, a melancholic ballad that was as beautiful as it was sad. It didn’t take me long to work out that it was a harp rather than an acoustic guitar, I grinned at the mental images of Brian learning the harp for the sake of this one song. Surely if he’d known how to play it all along, he would have shown off his musical prowess much earlier.

Naturally, the next song flipped this whole vibe that had just been created on its head. ‘Good Company’ was its name and it involved a whole band created solely by Brian’s guitar. It seemed funny to me, but I didn’t know why. A bit like with ‘Sweet Lady’, I wasn’t all too sure if I like it or not. I did notice Brian singing again; it was nice to hear his voice on the record more, not to diss Freddie or Roger in any way, shape or form. Now I wanted to hear John sing and we would be good to go.

The last proper song on the album was, of course, the absolute masterpiece (or as Sirius liked to call it, ‘an utter fucking bop’) that was ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Considering the sheer amount of times we’ve listened to the record since it came out, it wasn’t all that surprising that we knew all the words off by heart. This was including playing all five minutes and fifty-five seconds of it while James was in the shower, so he didn’t spend hours in there and use up all the hot water. The rule was that he had to be out by the time the song had ended, or we would send Lily the picture we had of him with his hair all wet. And he would die before he consented to such a thing. Trust me, it’s not a particularly flattering look on him. I had to remind them to resist the urge to jump around when the rock bit came on, you know what I’m on about, so as to not damage the vinyl already.

The last track was a guitar rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’, which was outrageous as it was excessive. Just layers upon layers of guitar, I would forever be impressed by Brian’s skills. Sirius, however, was still moaning over his restricted movement.

“But why can’t we jump? It’s so much more fun that headbanging alone,” Sirius whined like the petulant child that he was. I had to give him at least some credit, he may have an impressive amount of muggle knowledge, but he was still a pureblood and a Black at that. He could be so naïve sometimes.

“Darling you have to understand that it’s a sensitive little thing. If you jump, so will the vinyl, which will scratch it and it will jump at awkward times,” I explained, to which I was met with blank stares as if I was speaking in bloody Welsh. I sighed, perhaps a little more dramatically than necessary but if that doesn’t some up my whole life then I don’t know what does, and tried again, “Like with my Sheer Heart Attack record? Where it jumps during Brighton Rock and Killer Queen?”

“Ohhhh,” understanding washed over his and James’s faces because let’s be honest, if you think Sirius is oblivious then clearly, you’ve never met James.

“Yes, ohhhh,” I repeated, taking the mick out of the stupid buggers. Hey, it’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do whatever I want.

Which reminded me of the party I had planned for later. Well, I say party, it was going to be more of a ball than anything. A birthday ball, if you will. What can I say, I have a flair for the dramatics, sue me.

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justwinwin · 6 years ago

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I’m no good for you | Nakamoto Yuta

[Thank you so much, your kind words mean so much to me (:]

Pairing: Badboy!Yuta x Reader

Genre: Angst

Prompt: #8 “I’m scared as hell to want you, but here I am, wanting you anyway."

Word Count: 2.6k

The past few months of school felt like the longest years of your life, constant stress, overload and sleepless nights were the source of all your problems. At some point, you wish you had created a better way to manage your busy schedule, but your procrastination always won in the end. Even though you were acing all of your subjects, you had been studying unhealthily at late hours of the night.

To make matters worse, you had been assigned as a tutor for the boy who sat behind you in your History lesson. Not that you had a problem with it if it were anybody else, but he was extremely difficult to work with. This took too much of your time and you found yourself spending even more hours crouched over your desk, late at night, cramming as much study as you can for yourself.

Yuta, the boy you were tutoring, was an obnoxious person. You had been tutoring him for almost two months and in that time, he had not shown one nice side of him. His approach to everything had to be quick and easy or else he had no motivation to complete it. This was the same for studying. He listened, but not for long. He was constantly distracting you, asking you stupid questions, coming late to your sessions and being the obnoxious person that he was.

Although, you couldn’t help but admit that he was a rather handsome guy and sometimes you caught yourself staring a little too long. Not that he noticed anyway, it just felt weird to think that way about someone who was very much the opposite of you; personality wise.

At school, you were quiet and had a small tight group of friends. He was loud, rebellious and came from a large group of boys who also caused lots of trouble.

The only reason he was even showing up to your tutoring sessions was that his soccer career was on the line. His coach had kicked him off the team temporarily until he got himself together and picked up his grades.

“What’s this whole topic about, again?” Yuta asked, resting his head on his arms as you both sat in the library.

“The civil rights movement,” you replied, it had been over a month and he still had no idea about what the topic was.

“Oh, right. So it’s about social justice and all that stuff, right?”

“I guess, but there’s more to it,” you wanted to shove the textbook in his face and tell him to read it because everything was there, but then again thought about the extra credits you would be receiving for doing this favour.

Two weeks later, you saw a massive improvement within Yuta’s learning approach. He seemed to be a little more interested in what you had been saying, at points even engaging in his own opinions about the topic. It seemed that the fact that his future was on the line, considering that playing professional soccer was his goal and being scouted at a school game was one of the best ways to do that, had really opened up his eyes.

He even started coming earlier to your sessions which had surprised you very much.

“Kudos to Rosa Parks though, she had guts,” Yuta spoke up as he leaned forward to examine the textbook in front of you.

“Definitely. So how much of your essay have you finished? It’s due in a few days.”

He rummaged through his bag and pulls out crumbled pieces of paper. “Here, I finished it last night so I thought you could read through it and see how I went.”

“Okay, I’ll check it out tonight, I guess that’s the end of our session. I’ll give you feedback tomorrow morning so you can fix things up if you need to.” You began to pack up your belongings along with Yuta.

“Alright, cool. You comin’ to Mark’s party later?” he asked slinging his bag over his shoulder. Even though you had a small group of friends, your school was relatively tiny and so everyone knew each other. Being invited to parties was not an abnormal thing.

“No, I’ve got a bit of studying to do,” you replied honestly. The two of you made your way out of the library and into the carpark.

“Aw, come on. I swear you’re always studying, that must be unhealthy or something,”

You laughed, “I have a big test coming up, so I really can’t waste any more time. What about you? Are you going?”

He checked the time on his wristwatch, “actually, probably not. I’ve got a date.”

The way he said the word date you knew there was a double meaning behind it. Yuta was notorious for his casual hookups with girls around town and it was no surprise to you that he would most likely spend his whole night on this ‘date’.

“Oh right. Well have fun,”

As you waved goodbye, a weird feeling settled in you. It was almost as if you were sad to see him go. As much as he frustrated you at times, he was definitely growing on you and his company no longer annoyed you.

Yuta and you continued on your scheduled tutoring sessions a month later, but at some point having him as a company started occurring outside of these sessions. Sometimes Yuta would sit with you during class when he felt like it and you both engrossed in a conversation about everything and anything. On the unlikely occasion that you were dragged out of the comfort of your room to attend a party, Yuta would find you and start up a conversation.

To be quite honest, you now considered him as a friend.

But things started turning around in a totally different direction. It felt like you were going back once again. You knew Yuta still involved himself with lots of women, but he seemed to be doing it so much more frequently, even going as far as cancelling some of your tutoring sessions to do so. His irritable manner in class intensified and at times came out whilst you two were working together.

You were unsure of what happened but Yuta had changed, it felt as if he was becoming more and more distant. More distant than when you had first met him. Things became awkward and uncomfortable silence settled upon you two more often.

As much as it pained you to admit it, during the months that you had gotten to know Yuta and built a strong friendship, you couldn’t help but form feelings for the boy. You were confused as to how, but it could have been the way his smile (which he didn’t do often) lit up the whole room. The way he becomes serious and determined when working. But you started recognising these feelings when you realised you’d been staring a little longer than usual, you felt eager to see him and he would pop up in your mind constantly.

You felt quite pitiful because of the feelings you were having for Yuta, and you knew it was dangerous. He was dangerous. But something in you just couldn’t stay away. Some part of you thought he too, felt the same. This came from the way he’d look at you, the way he’d laugh a little louder at your lame jokes and that he’d put in effort into listening to your voice. Unfortunately, after seeing him act so different and aloof with you, you knew you were just fantasizing.

You waited at the usual table you shared with Yuta, it was eight minutes past your usually meet up time and you started to worry. Although this would be the third session he’d missed in a row and that you should have been used to it, it still impacted you.

You sighed and checked the time on your phone once again. You promised yourself that if he didn’t arrive at the twenty-minute mark, you would just leave. You sent another message to Yuta asking where he was but with no reply.

Just as the clock hit the awaited time, you walked through the doors of the library, Yuta was walking towards you with a guilty expression. Too late, you were already in a terrible mood and did not want to face him anymore.

“I have to go,” you uttered and prepared to walk straight past him. You felt his hand close around your elbow and he pulled you back gently so that you were facing him.

“Sorry, I had shit to do,” he apologised in a monotone voice causing your anger to build up.

“Now so do I, so let me go,” you demanded attempting to pull your arm back from him. He reluctantly let your arm go and you walked past him once again. You could feel the fast beating of your heart hammering against your chest.

“Seriously? I’m only twenty minutes late, don’t you want your extra credits?”

You turned around furious that he was being extremely sensitive about the situation. “You weren’t just late, you didn’t message me all the other days when I waited for you and you didn’t have the courtesy to at least let me know!”

“Okay, I’m sorry! Damn, let’s just get this tutoring out the way then,” Yuta exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.

Your blood was boiling and your palms were beginning to sweat.

“No, fuck you. I don’t know what’s going on with you but you can’t just treat me like shit, come to our sessions late or don’t attend at all and expect me to just be okay with it. I have other things I should be doing but here I am waiting around for you just for you to be hoeing around fucking every girl you see,” you wanted to take back what you said not because you were ashamed of saying it but rather the fact that you felt pathetic for being so wound up and agitated when he really couldn’t care about your feelings at all.

He squinted his eyes at you, an angry look crossed his features. “You don’t fucking know me so don’t just assume things,”

“I think the whole town knows exactly what you get up to so there’s no need to act like that’s not what you’re doing,” you said harshly.

“Where the hell is this even coming from? I get you’re mad that I’m late but seriously, why are you bringing this up?” he asked you with an irritated tone.

You took a short pause to gather your thoughts and realised that you couldn’t tell him why you brought up the topic. That you were jealous.

“Whatever, I’m going,” you finally replied, feeling upset that you had let this affect you this much. You hated feeling defeated.

“Y/N, don’t.”

You paused and turned back around to face Yuta, a look of pain was evident on his face which had you confused.

“Don’t what?” you asked.

“Don’t do this to yourself. I can see it in your eyes, you like me. And for your sake, don’t.”

Now you were beyond confused and also slightly panicked at how he easily he picked up your feelings for him thinking that you were clever at hiding it.

“I don’t like you.”

“Don’t lie. I know you like me,” without realising it, Yuta had already started moving towards you and soon he was just a foot away, “you can’t like me.”

“I don’t,” you continue to deny it, your heart pounding against your chest even more.

“Fine, you don’t. But explain this. Why are you looking at my lips?”

Your breath hitched as you realised that you were indeed eyeing them. You looked down in embarrassment and a blush crept up your cheek.

“Why is your heart beating fast?” he continued to question and bringing a hand up to where your heart was and feeling the quick beats of your heart.

“Why aren’t you walking away even though you were supposed to leave?” he dropped his hand back to his side.

“Shut up,” you finally spoke up, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“So am I right?” he mumbled looking down at your lips.

“This isn’t fair,” you expressed with a hoarse voice.

“What’s not fair?”

You knew then that there was no point in hiding it anymore and so you confessed, “I have these stupid feelings for you but you don’t feel anything.” You voiced in a quiet voice, sensing that you were beginning to get emotional.

“How do you know?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the words, “don’t say things like that. You can’t just do this and lead me on. I’m not one of the girls you can just fool into your bed,”

Yuta almost looked angry again but found a way to control himself, “why are you excusing my feelings? I’m scared as hell to want you, but here I am, wanting you anyway.”

You stared into his dark brown eyes, getting lost into the sea of emotions within them. He had a way of captivating you with one look. His words swirling around in your head, over and over, until it got to be too much.

“Why?” you whispered.

“Why? Look at me! I’m a fucking mess, that’s why. I’m not good for you, y/n. I’ll only hurt you and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“You don’t know that,” you tried to say almost sounding as if you were pleading.

“I do, I do know what I’m capable of. I’m no good and sooner or later you’re going to realise that. I can’t do this with you, I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yuta, stop undermining yourself. You aren’t as bad as you make yourself out to be.”

“Y/N, stop being naive. You gotta see this for how it is, it’s the reality. I’m a fucking mess. I want you but I can’t have you, okay? That’s why I’ve been trying to keep my distance, I want to gather my thoughts without having you there as a constant reminder of what I can’t have. This hurts me to say just as much as it’s hurting you.”

“Don’t say things like that,” you pleaded.

“Like what? The truth? Y/N, I’m going to mess you up, I’m going to hurt you and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want you putting your trust in me when I can’t even fully trust myself.”

“Do you really like me?” you asked, wanting some sort of clarification and also a confidence boost for what you are about to ask.

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

“Then kiss me.”

He was stunned, a surprised expression appeared on his face. But once the initial shock wore out, Yuta brought his hands up to your face and brought it closer. He was inching in slowly and once your lips met, your world became brighter.

He kissed you like it was your last day on Earth like his own life depended on it. His lips brushing against yours causing you to lose your breath. You sought unity and intimacy with this kiss. As well as confirming whether he was telling the truth. Once he pulled away, you felt lonely, wanting his lips back on yours, for him to hold you longer and to never let you go.

Unexpectedly, Yuta brought his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. He was breathing heavily and his hot breath fanned your face. Slowly, he opened his eye and gazed you.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he uttered breathlessly. A small smile broke out of his face. Soon he was back to passionately kissing you again, without any hesitation.

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chain-unchained · 5 years ago

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August 28 (Moonlight Jellies)

“C’monnn Shane, get the lead out of your butt!” Jas’s voice was filled with excitement as she turned around to look back at her uncle, bouncing up and down on the heels of her feet as she waited impatiently for him to catch up. “Jeez, you’re soooo slow!”

“Squirt, I only have one speed and it’s this.” Shane was grinning all the same; it was cute how excited Jas was for the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies. It was one of those festivals that when you described it to someone, didn’t sound that exciting. But oddly enough, actually experiencing it was something almost indescribable. It was like the valley’s farewell to summer and hello to fall, since by the time the festival came around, the temperatures usually dropped, rain became more frequent, and the flora began the transition from leafy greens to warm reds and oranges.

This year, he could feel his stomach doing somersaults with each step he took towards the beach. Marnie’s suggestion to him was still very much fresh in his mind, and he’d spent the entire day arguing with himself inside his head whether or not he should go through with the idea. He still didn’t know which answer was the right one. Maybe there was no right answer. Part of him wondered if he should just do what the characters in Jas’ favorite stories did and ‘follow his heart’, since it always seemed to work out well for them.

The festival was always held late, usually starting at 10PM but sometimes earlier, depending on how quickly the daylight faded. There was no actual dancing done; it was a bit of a misnomer, to be honest. Every year, the moonlight jellyfish would pass by Pelican Town on their way through the Gem Sea to who knows where. Nobody knew exactly when it was discovered, but the jellies were attracted to light, and so everyone would send out little paper boats with candles in them to attract the jellies closer. The jellyfish themselves emitted an ethereal sort of glow, which was why the festival was deemed one of the more ‘romantic’ ones held in town. More than a few couples had gotten together over the years on that day.

As expected, the beach was already filled with the other townsfolk by the time Shane and Jas got there; Marnie had already left quite some time before them, saying that she wanted to help Lewis with the last minute preparations. It was pretty common knowledge in town that the two had a thing for one another, but there was an unspoken rule that everyone followed about not mentioning it. “Alright squirt, let’s go find Marnie and get a spot before all the good ones get taken.”

“So, you excited to see the jellies?” Abigail asked Ashe, as they, Sebastian and Sam all stood together at the end of the pier. “I’m excited, and I get to see them every year.”

“Hm?” Ashe had been lost in thought for the past few minutes, completely zoned out to the conversation the three had been having without him; he hadn’t even realized that Sam and Seb were still taking turns drawing on his new cast, he was so out of it. “Oh, um… yeah, I’m looking forward to it~ I’ve heard they’re beautiful.”

“They sure are.” Sam shared a grin with Sebastian as he passed the sharpie back to him. They’d started a game of tic-tac-toe with the cast as the paper to pass the time until the jellies arrive. “Boy, you must really have Shane on the brain tonight. You’re so out of it.”

His comment made Ashe’s face turn a brilliant crimson, and the three of them laughed at the predictable reaction. “H-How did you know?”

“You’re so obvious.” Sebastian lightly flicked his forehead before digging his cigarettes out of his pants pocket; there was just enough of a chill in the air that night that everyone had traded their shorts in for pants, except for Ashe, who had traded his shortalls for proper overalls, and Linus, who was used to the less extreme temperature changes and was wearing the same spotted tunic as ever. “Something needs to happen with you two. We can feel the sexual tension between you from across town.”

“I dunno, I think it’s cute how they’re playing hard to get with each other.” Abigail laughed at the look on Ashe’s face. “You’re both crushing so hard for one another~ My RP group and I already ship you guys.”

“I still can’t believe you ship people in real life.” Sebastian stuck a cigarette in his mouth as he just shook his head at her. “That’s just… no. Stop that.”

Abigail responded by sticking her tongue out at him with a ‘try and make me’ grin; out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shane and Jas strolling onto the beach. “Oh. Look who’s here, Ashe~” She teased, lightly nudging Ashe with her elbow to get his attention. “This could be your big chance.”

Glancing over to see if she was telling the truth, Ashe’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. There really would be no better time to come out and say how he felt. It was embarrassing that his friends were egging him on to do it, though… “… I’m gonna go talk to him.” He finally said, watching as Shane walked Jas over to where Marnie was waiting. “J-Just to talk!” He clarified, as the three of them broke into shit-eating grins. “Jeez, you guys… can you please give it a rest?”

Before he could talk himself out of it, he swiftly strolled away from their group. “…. Do you think we pushed the issue a bit too much?” Sam asked guiltily.

“It needed to be done.” Sebastian shifted to sit down, exhaling a plume of smoke as he contemplated a job well done. “If we didn’t pick at him like that he wouldn’t have done anything, and I cannot watch them be super awkward with each other anymore.”

“There you two are.” Marnie greeted her nephew and niece with a smile as they approached. “I was starting to get worried. Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Jas couldn’t find her bunny-jewel slippers.” Shane lightly ruffled Jas’ hair. “She insisted on wearing them for some reason, so we had to practically tear her room apart trying to find them. Turns out they’d gotten between the bed and the wall.”

Hearing that made the portly woman laugh. “Well then, if that isn’t a lesson in keeping a tidy room then I don’t know what is.” Kneeling down to the child’s level, she offered her a grape popsicle from the little freezer that she and Lewis had stocked full. “Lucky for you, the jellies haven’t passed by yet.”

Beaming at the treat, Jas tore the top open with her teeth. “I hope there are babies this year!” She declared enthusiastically, drawing a laugh from her guardians. It was something she wished for every year, without fail.

“Well, I guess we should pick a spot.” Shane ruffled her hair again with a grin before tucking his hands into his pockets. “… I need to take care of something first. Don’t wait up for me if the show starts before I get back.”

“Alright, hun.” She wouldn’t let it show, but Marnie had an inkling as to what he was going to be doing. “Come on Jas, I’m sure Vincent has been waiting patiently for you.” Taking hold of Jas’ hand, she led her niece towards the docks, leaving a nervous Shane to tug at the collar of his shirt as he looked around. ‘Good luck, Shane.’

‘Alright… let’s see how things play out.’ Shane thought to himself, scanning the dock for that familiar yellow headband. Imagine his surprise when he spotted it moving towards him, as though Ashe was also looking for him in that moment. “Oh. Hey, Ashe. I was just looking for you.” He greeted, feeling his heart jump up into his throat as the farmer approached.

“Really?” Ashe laughed nervously as he came to stand before him, feeling his palms become sweaty from his nerves.

“Yeah.” Somewhat awkwardly, Shane rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous half-laugh of his own. “I actually… well…”

For a brief moment, a painful silence fell between them, as they both wrestled with what they wanted to say. “... Can we talk?” Ashe finally managed to ask, looking up at his friend as he anxiously played with his fingers. “A-away from everyone?”

Shane’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, uh… sure.” He agreed, relieved that Ashe had been the one to ask it. With a jerk of his head, he gestured towards the east side of the beach, where they were guaranteed to have some privacy.

Silently, the two of them crossed the thin wooden plank used to bridge the gap between the two sides, moving away from the dim light cast by the sparse torches towards the north. “Soooo, uh…. What is it that you wanted to talk about, bud?”

Ashe didn’t say anything at first; to be honest, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. Being put on the spot like this just made it even harder for him to think. “I-I just… have something I need to say.” He began slowly, playing with one of the buttons on his overalls just to give his hands something to do as they slowly walked along the shore. “And I… really, really don’t know how to say it, but I’m gonna try.”

They came to a stop near the water’s edge, just out of reach of the gently lapping waves. “You… I mean, we… er….” He started and stopped several times, feeling his face heat up each time it happened. “… Do you remember that one really bad day we had a couple weeks ago? You asked me what I thought was good about you, and I just started going on and on…”

“Yeah, I remember.” Shane tucked his hands back into his pockets, somehow managing to look calm and cool despite his heart beating loudly inside his chest.

“W-Well…” Ashe swallowed a little and let out a shaky breath. “I meant every word, you know? But it wasn’t just what I thought was good about you… it was everything that I liked about you, too. That’s why that last one slipped out, and…” He fidgeted a little, slowly hunching his shoulders as he worked up the courage to just say it. “….. I like you.” He finally blurted out, making Shane jump a little from how sudden it was. “I like you… so much that I can’t stand it sometimes!”

Without realizing it, he’d screwed his eyes shut, clutching his hands against his chest as he said the words that he’d been wanting to say for the longest time, his entire frame shaking now as he waited for some kind of response from Shane—a rejection was what he was expecting the most, to be honest, and it was what he was most afraid of. He was sure that Shane would want someone closer to his own age, that he just saw Ashe as a little brother.

They were the same doubts that Shane had harbored himself up to that moment, except that he hadn’t had the courage to come out and say anything like Ashe had. But now that he knew that they both had the same feelings, nothing could stop him from reaching out to cup the smaller male’s face and pulling him close until their lips connected.

“Mmf--!” The tiniest noise of surprise escaped Ashe’s mouth, only to be silenced as Shane slipped his tongue inside. It was a little intense, sure, but he couldn’t stop himself once he felt how soft and plush Ashe’s lips really were, how warm they felt against his own. It really did feel like a dream, except not even in his wildest dreams did he ever think it would feel this good to kiss him.

After a few brief seconds, Shane pulled back to let them both catch their breath; the world had seemed to stand still in the moment, but now it roared back to life—the crash of the waves, the smell of the salt on the wind as it blew in from the ocean, the sound of chatter coming from the docks a few hundred feet away. “I feel the same about you.” He murmured, gently brushing his thumb against Ashe’s cheek as their foreheads pressed together; shyly, Ashe leaned into his touch, his hands still tightly grasping at the front of his overalls. “I have for awhile… I was just too afraid of scaring you away to say anything. You could have your pick of anyone in town, and I didn’t think I had a snowball’s chance in hell.”

“Ah….” Ashe blinked slowly in surprise at those words. Here he’d been afraid of speaking up for that exact same reason. “….” Shyly, he tiptoed closer, until he was leaning completely against Shane. “There’s no one else that even comes close to how much I like you.” He mumbled, hiding his face in the older man’s chest. “I wanna be with you.”

His cheeks flaring red from just how cute that was, Shane covered his mouth with one hand, taking a second to compose himself before he tried to speak again; with just a little bit of hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Ashe’s slender frame and hugged him close. “I guess that goes double for me.”

For the longest moment, they stayed like that, feeling the way that their hearts both raced inside their chests; they were both as nervous as the other, almost as much as they had been when they first set out to talk. “… We should probably head back.” Shane commented as he cleared his throat, not making any moves to let go of Ashe just yet. “We’re going to miss the jellies if we take much longer. I would say that we’re going to give people ideas, too, but… I’m pretty sure that the whole damn town’s been waiting for us to get together.”

“Y-Yeah.” Ashe likewise made no move to separate from Shane. It felt nice to be held like that. “… Would it be okay if… Y-You know what, nevermind, it’s—”

“Do you want to watch with me and Marnie and Jas?” Shane offered, almost as if he’d read Ashe’s mind. “I understand if you’d rather watch with Sebastian and the others… but I know Jas would be happy if you joined us. Marnie too. And… I’d be happy too, of course.”

Ashe’s face lit up like the jellies in the distance. “Y-yes! I’d love to watch with you guys.” It was what he wanted to ask, after all. He’d just been worried about pushing things too much too quickly; this was his first relationship.

His response made Shane grin. “Great. Here, let’s get a move on.” He released Ashe from his embrace, and the two began to walk briskly back towards the others, with Ashe happily hugging Shane’s arm as they walked. It was a little embarrassing, but if it made him happy, then Shane sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him.

“There you are!” Jas huffed as they approached. “Jeez, you always take so long to do things! Hurryyyyy, we’re gonna send the boats out!”

“I told you, I only have one speed I can go at.” Shane was more than a little winded by the time he and Ashe got to where Jas and Marnie were waiting on the docks. “I’m hustling as fast as I can.”

“You’re fine, Shane.” Marnie laughed, passing him a paper boat with a candle inside. “You two don’t mind sharing one to send out, do you?” She asked with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Of course there was no hiding anything from her, not that Shane expected to anyway. “Nope, that’s fine.” He answered. Marnie passed Ashe a match box to light the candle with, and the two of them went to the edge of the dock. “You know how to handle matches, right?” He asked, eying Ashe as he slid a match out from the matchbook.

“Mmhm.” They crouched down, and Shane held the boat close to him; as Ashe dragged the head of the match against the striker, filling the air with the acrid burning smell that was characteristic of the medium as the head ignited. Carefully, he lit the wick of the candle inside the boat, and Shane managed to lean down and set it in the water, giving the vessel a good push to send it on its way. Around them, everyone else did the same, filling the pitch-black surface of the sea with dots of warm light as the boats sailed away.

Within just a few moments, the brilliant glow of hundreds of jellyfish drew near, illuminating the ocean like stars in the sky above. It was the kind of sight that took your breath away with just how simple and beautiful it was, how elegant the jellies were as they glided effortlessly through the water like ghosts through air.

“Auntie, Auntie!!!” Jas whispered excitedly, grabbing onto Marnie’s arm and jumping up and down. “I see babies!!!” It was a wish finally come true, as dozens of tiny jellies drifted alongside the adults towards the docks.

“Shhh.” Marnie tried to shush her, while she simultaneously tried not to laugh at Jas’ reaction. “You’ll frighten them away if you make that much noise.”

“Heh, she’s never going to stop talking about tonight.” Shane chuckled, shifting to sit on the edge of the dock so he wasn’t killing his back by crouching anymore. “She’s wanted to see babies for years.” As he spoke, he casually took hold of Ashe’s hand and laced their fingers together.

“I wish I could get that excited about things.” Ashe felt his cheeks heat up, smiling bashfully as he moved to sit on his knees. After a few minutes, he noticed a peculiar green glow amidst the sea of white and blue, leaning forward a little to try and get a better look. “… Hey, Shane? Do you see that too?”

Indeed, Shane did. To their amazement, a dazzling green jellyfish was drifting ever so lazily towards them, parting the other jellies like it was royalty amongst them. It came right up to where Ashe was, lingered for just a moment, and almost seemed to reach out to the farmer. “Ah…. Hello there.” Enraptured, Ashe leaned forward even more, reaching out with his own hand—only for the moment to be shattered as the tide began to carry the jellies away, back out towards the open sea.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a green jelly before.” Shane was awestruck. “Old Willy’s mentioned them before, but this is the first time I’ve seen one with my own eyes… damn…”

“I wonder why it came up to me…” Ashe sat back, leaning against Shane a little as they watched the jellies return to the distance. “…. I wish they could have stayed a little longer.”

“Yeah, I kind of do too.” Shane gave his hand a squeeze. “But they have their own thing they gotta do. We’re lucky they decide to stop here on the way.”

The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies had never been a lively festival. It was always a peaceful one, a quiet, introspective one. There wasn’t an official end to it, either; people would just leave as they saw fit, whether because they had seen their fill or because they couldn’t stay awake long enough to watch anymore. In a sense, it wasn’t even really a festival. It just was what it was.

Before long, the four of them—Shane, Ashe, Jas and Marnie—got ready to head home as well. “Come along, little missy.” Marnie coaxed a sleepy Jas. “Let’s get you off to bed.”

“Okay…” Too tired to protest, Jas tiredly rubbed at her eyes as she looked to Shane expectantly.

Seeing where Jas was looking, Marnie knelt down to her level and smiled. “Shane will head back a bit later.” She explained, taking hold of Jas’ hand as she spoke. “He’s going to make sure Ashe gets home safe first. Okay?”

“Oh, okay…” It made sense to Jas, who nodded her head with a yawn. “Night, Mr. Ashe…” She bid, letting Marnie lead her away.

“Good night, Jas.” Ashe waved with a smile. “Yoba, she’s so cute.”

“Yeah….” Shane was a little embarrassed that Marnie seemingly read his mind, though he guessed it didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out that’s what he was going to do. “You’re pretty cute too, you know.”

The compliment earned a surprised little ‘meep’ from Ashe, who turned a bright shade of red. Hearing that from Shane made him… really happy. He didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, he hugged onto Shane’s arm and buried his face in his shoulder. “We should get going.” He mumbled, his voice muffled by the sleeve of Shane’s shirt.

“Pfft… alright, alright.” Shane got a bit of a kick out of that reaction. He’d have to try and get a similar one sometime.

Lingering off to the side as everyone else left, the three amigos watched the pair head off as well. “Well, would you look at that.” Sam observed with a huge grin on his face.

“Mission successful.” Sebastian fist-bumped Abigail in victory. “See, I told you things would work out.”

“They look so happy together~” Abigail couldn’t help the happy little jig that came over her at the sight. “I wish I’d brought my phone so I could take a picture for the RP group. It’s almost like something you’d read in a storybook, so I dunno if they’ll believe me when I tell them it finally happened.”

“It’s not any of their business.” Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Sebastian ground out the butt of his cigarette into the sand and stuck it into the little container he kept tucked inside his shirt pocket. “It’s not any of our business now. They deserve at least that much.”

He played it off with his usual deadpan tone, but he was just as happy for his friend as Sam and Abigail were. And they were happy for Shane, too. Just like how everyone wordlessly agreed not to speak about Marnie and Lewis, there was already an unspoken agreement to not bring up Shane and Ashe—it was just how the town handled budding relationships, out of respect for those involved. Except for in one very specific situation… “Alright, what are the bets on when they tie the knot?”

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv fanfic #sdv fanfiction #stardew fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew fanfiction #stardew valley fanfiction #sdv shane #sdv farmer #stardew shane #stardew farmer

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theshapeshifter100 · 5 years ago

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Holiday Celebrations

(Day 25 of @thewatchau‘s Annual prompts, and for those celebrate it, Happy Christmas! If you don’t, have a wonderful Wednesday!

This is the longest prompt yet, nearly 4,000 words, so there will be a cut. Under the cut will also be messy eating and alcohol)

---

Ivy had timed it almost perfectly, and couldn’t quite believe her luck. Iolla Beacon to Loburn, about a day’s ride since she had to cross the Aircaenn bridge and almost double back on herself. As the raven flies it would take a few hours, which would make delivering messages so much easier!

The frosty ground cracked under Firefly’s hooves, and both horse and rider could see their breath puffing out in front of them. Otto was huddled on the saddle, hiding under Ivy’s cloak. She didn’t blame him, she was wondering if she would be able to dismount when they stopped, her fingers had to be frozen to the reins by now.

She could see Loburn appearing over the horizon. The main road cut right through it, on either end was an inn. Both of them knew Ivy, as she would leave Firefly with the one she got to first that had an empty stall.

She passed the farm on the way up, and could see that the old yew just outside the village was decorated with brightly coloured ornaments hanging from its branches. Ivy’s mother had loved doing that, she’d take spare materials from her work and help shape them into suns, moons and stars.

Those were still there, Ivy’s father had a box full of them at home and brought them out to decorate the yews and box trees around the village. Among those ones were those made of wood and brightly painted, and some shaped like fruit and small dolls.

Ivy rode past it, eyes lingering on the gold and silver decorations before flicking ahead. The inn was coming up, time to see if they had a free stall.

---

With Firefly safely stabled and Otto huddled on her shoulder instead and her saddlebags over the other shoulder, Ivy walked to her old home. It was just a bit further down the main road, and hadn’t changed since she was last here.

On the door hung a wreath made of holly and ivy, with the knocker just above it. Ivy reached for it, and paused. Should she knock? She used to live here, and it wasn’t like strangers had moved in.

She had the same thoughts every time, and so just shook her head and rapped the knocker against the door.

It took a second for the door to open, but when it did open it was flung open and Ivy was tackled. Otto squawked and took over to land on the roof as Ivy recovered her balance.

“Well hi Ed,” she chuckled, and the small blonde boy grinned up at her, body vibrating with excitement. He took her hand and began to pull her into the house, and she let him drag her inside. Otto followed before the door shut, wanting to be in the warm.

The front door led to an open space that usually received patients, but Ed took her back into the residentially part of the home, where everyone else was.

The kitchen was full of people. Her father Cyril was there, of course, but there was Charles, Mags, Yarra, her uncle Dennis, her aunt Abby, cousin Layla, grandpa Blane and grandma Elisa.

Ed ran over to Yarra and jumped up at him, fully expecting him to catch him. Yarra panicked and dropped the mug he was holding to catch him, while Charles dove to catch the mug before it spilt on the floor.

“Nice catch!” Layla laughed, although Ivy wasn’t sure if she meant Yarra or Charles.

“This isn’t the first time,” Charles dryly, before putting the cup on the table and quickly translating for Mags. Rena was draped over her shoulders, and Otto croaked upon seeing him, trying to land on the table.

Ivy shooed him off. “We eat there!”

With an annoyed croak he landed back on my Ivy’s shoulder and sulked.

“Hello Ivy,” her father was the only one to say hello. “You drop your bags off upstairs, although I’m afraid you’ll have to pick between sharing with either me, the boys or Mags and Charles.”

“I can just camp downstairs somewhere,” none of the above options appealed. “I’ve got a bed roll and sleep sack.”

“Wherever you feel collapsing tonight,” Cyril shrugged.

Ivy shrugged in return and left the kitchen. There was a small room next to the kitchen that wasn’t often used, somewhere quite with a small fireplace and some chairs which her parents had used when they wanted somewhere quiet.

Ivy went in there now, pushing the chairs against the wall and finally heaving her bag from her shoulders. She unbuckled the sleeping roll and laid it out on the floor and put the sleeping sack on top. She also left her riding gloves and cloak there for the time being, to be collected when it was time to go.

Back in the kitchen, Mags was giving the other side of the family some sign lessons. Cyril just smiled as Ivy came in and wordlessly handed her a mug of warm wine, which was currently over a low fire with herbs floating and seeping in their flavour.

“Ahhhhh,” Ivy sighed as the cup came into contact with her cold fingers. “So good.”

Otto croaked in jealousy, but Cyril was prepared for that as well, and held out a piece of meat for him. He took it gratefully and was soon occupied by it.

Ivy now leaned against a counter, looking around the room. It was easily one of the bigger rooms on the ground floor, excluding the area by the front door and the overnight patient room. Holly and ivy were draped around the room, and it was always a little strange for Ivy to see her namesake hung over the doorways.

Candles were also dotted everywhere, mostly on the table in the middle, but also on the countertops. Once was currently warming her back.

A few of them had bundles of herbs next to them, burning and smoking gently. The filled the room with a sweet, calming scent.

“Are you just going to hide over there dear?” Grandma Elisa asked. Her blonde hair had turned grey over the years, and a pair of glasses were permanently perched on the end of her nose.

“Just recovering from the ride,” Ivy took a sip of the mulled wine.

“Of course, you must have come a long way.”

“Just from the Beacon. Iolla,” Ivy added for clarification.

“Oh. Not so far then.”

“Still a full day’s ride. It was dark when I left and it’s getting dark now,” Ivy watched Ed get his cup filled up, a small bit of wine from the pot and the rest was water from the kettle.

Elisa made a noncommittal noise before beginning the topic she really came over to talk about.

“Did you hear about Layla?”

“That she graduated? Yes. I should offer her congratulations in person,” Ivy began to push herself off the counter, but Elisa wasn’t done.

“So glad to finally see the next generation of Dr Paris. I was worried you know, after all Charles never completed his studies.”

“For someone who likes to scoff at old traditions, you seem determined to hold onto this one.”

“It’s a useful tradition,” Elisa squared her shoulders. “Unlike the old marriage ceremonies please dear the two aren’t comparable.”

Ivy just took a long sip of her drink.

“Now, the young one, Ed, if he ever regains his voice he might become mature enough to be a doctor. Yarra might as well, if he could find a spine.”

“Grandmother,” Ivy looked over her glass. “Not everyone’s going to be a doctor, and Layla has plenty of life to live. Anyway, tonight is the night to let loose and have some fun.”

“Layla’s not the only one with plenty of life to live,” Elisa raised her eyebrow at Ivy, and Ivy almost choked on her drink.

“I, no, um.”

“You meet a lot of people, surely there’s someone. Wasn’t there that blacksmith’s boy you mentioned? Or the shepherd? The only ones to keep up with you huh?”

Ivy’s face went beet red, especially has Otto made a croaking cackle behind her, warming his feathers on the candles.

“No need to be shy dear. They sound like fine men, unless of course you’ve found that men don’t strike your fancy?”

Ivy caught Charles’s eye, and he came over, hopefully to save her from this conversation.

“Are you teasing my sister over her lack of love life?”

Or maybe not.

Ivy mouthed ‘I hate you’ to Charles, who just grinned as Elisa spoke.

“She’s getting older now, you can’t ride around Duilintinn forever you know,” she aimed that last bit at Ivy.

“Watch me,” she responded. “I don’t intend to start a family.”

“No need to close yourself off. You might change your mind.”

“Might is the key word,” Ivy narrowed her eyes. “Now, I should congratulate my cousin on her graduation.”

She moved away from the counter and approached Layla, who was in a halting conversation with Mags. Mags stood out quite a bit in the Paris household, being tall and a brunette.

“Ivy!” Mags signed, and Ivy tried to sign back, a little out of practice.

“Hi Mags!” Ivy also tried to greet Layla, but had to spell her name out. Given how Mags grinned, Ivy had spelt it wrong. “Well how do you spell it then?”

Mags spelled it correctly, and Ivy copied.

“Anyway, L A Y L A, you’re a doctor now?”

“Yeah!” Layla smiled nervously. “I’m still assisting, but, yeah. I’m a doctor…”

“You’ll be fine,” Ivy assured.

“Yeah, Uncle Cyril’s been good. Although, Grandma’s been on my back.”

“I just escaped from her,” Ivy commiserated. “It’s fine.”

Layla hummed. “Don’t you get lonely?”

Ivy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re sounding like Grandma.”

“Honest question,” Layla held her hands up for a second before continuing to try and sign. “I know I get lonely sometimes.”

Ivy thought about it for a second. “Sometimes, yeah. But I’m rarely too far from an Outpost and I know a lot of people in the Watch. So, it doesn’t bother me too much.”

“You’re a little young to settling down yet,” Mags interjected. “I was older than Ivy when I married, and I’d known Charles for seven years before that.”

“Thanks,” Layla looked a little uncomfortable now. “Still it’s, weird. I’m done studying, and now…”

“Now there’s an unending abyss of terror because everything’s been structured by others for so long and now you have to structure it and you don’t know how to do that?” Ivy took a nonchalant sip of her wine while Mags and Layla stared.

“Yes. That,” Layla agreed.

“Baby steps,” Ivy shrugged. “Try not to look too far ahead. Things go wrong, things go right. Things happen when they happen.”

“Ivy, do you need a hug?” Mags asked.

“No, I’m past that. But thanks.”

Thankfully now, the conversations fell quiet as Cyril clapped his hands. Mags didn’t hear obviously but noticed every else’s reactions. Charles came over to her as Cyril talked, translating even though Cyril tried to sign clumsily.

“Now that we’re all here and warmed up from the cold, let’s get wrapped up and head back out. I can see the glow of the bonfire from here!”

There was some good natured grumbling as people finished their drinks and went to collect their cold weather clothes. Ivy collected her thicker gloves from inside her saddle bags, an overshirt and her fur lined cloak with a hood.

She met everyone else in the front area, and found Yarra, who also stood out like a sore thumb among the Paris’s, was bundled up more than anyone else.

“I’ve not heard of anyone getting frostbite this far south,” Ivy raised an eyebrow at the scarf over his face and what looked like a second pair of gloves.

“I don’t like the cold,” Yarra responded, muffled behind his scarf.

“You don’t say,” Ivy smirked as Ed tugged on Yarra’s hand.

Otto flew in from the kitchen and landed on Ivy’s shoulder, feather preened and glossy and looking for all the world like he wasn’t going to make a nuisance of himself tonight.

Cyril collected the lantern he kept by the door and lit it before holding it up, looking over the group.

“Yarra! You’re a tall lad. How about you lead the way and I’ll point you in the right direction?”

Yarra looked terrified at the prospect. At least Ivy thought so, his eyes had gone wide.

“Don’t be shy, we’re all family here, c’mon on!” Cyril held the lantern up, and Yarra made his way towards him, Ed clamped at his side. Cyril handed him the lantern and turned to the rest of the group.

“Alright, stick together, don’t get lost, don’t drift off until we reach the amphitheatre alright? I don’t want to have to send out a rescue party tonight!”

Everyone chuckled good naturedly at the warning, and then they were off, Yarra at the head with Ed on one side and Cyril on the other.

Night had fallen over Loburn, and the temperature had fallen with it. Ivy drew her hood up and wrapped her cloak around her as the family marched towards the amphitheatre.

Not everyone had left to go there yet. As they passed some houses were still lit with candles, although nearly all of them had a wreath against the door, with entryways fringed with holly, ivy and fallen yew boughs.

Looking towards the amphitheatre, Ivy could see the smoke of several fires billowing up into the sky. As they got closer, music and chattering could be heard.

The amphitheatre wasn’t sunken like many in the west of Duilintinn, instead it was more or less level with the ground. A subtle reminder of the age of this village.

Inside was busy, but not packed, yet. In the centre a massive bonfire burned, chasing away the winter cold. A giant stew pot bubbled on the far side, full of vegetables and herbs, while two pigs were being roasted at either end of the amphitheatre, where they no doubt had been turning and roasting all day. Above them in the smoke were the legs of the pigs, being smoked as a sort of payment to the people who had volunteered to cook since before dawn.

There were stalls set up on the ground level, most handing out warmed wine, mead and beer, with tea and diluted alcohol for the youngsters. A few were selling bottles of wine and mead, others last minute crafts as gifts. Finally stalls selling herbed bread, frozen and hardened tree syrups from House Marvin, and chilled or frozen forest fruits.

Musicians and singers had taken residence higher up in the theatre, right up on the hewn rows. Old songs no one knew the meaning off anymore mixed in with more modern songs, while bells, hand drums, lutes and flutes all played together, adding to the cacophony.

Once inside Yarra handed the lantern back to Cyril, and without a word, the group scattered.

Ivy was starving, so got in line at one of the hog roasts. The line was already long, but the folks doing the roasting were moving quickly. Someone was going down the line, collecting payment and handing out slabs of bread for plates so that you didn’t have to faff about when you got to the front of the line.

Otto peered curiously from her shoulder, and slowly, clearly thinking Ivy wouldn’t notice, stretched his neck to grab the bread. His squawk of surprise was muffled when Ivy grabbed his beak.

“No,” was all she said, and he let out an over dejected croak.

“No,” she spoked more firmly, still holding his beak. “You need to behave, not everyone is so forgiving of your behaviour.”

She slowly let go of his beak, when he let out a half hearted hiss at her and settled on her shoulder, sulking.

They made it to the front of the line, where town butcher carved off a chunk of the hog before plopping it on Ivy’s bread plate. She shuffled a little further across for some stewed crab apple to top it, and then walked away from the roast. The smoke was starting to make her eyes sting.

She tore off a bit of hog to give to Otto and held it in front of his beak, wiggling it a little bit to catch his attention. He tilted his head at her before carefully reaching his beak out and snatching it out of her grip.

She ate the pork and crab apple mixture with her fingers, making a bit of a mess, but this was a night when no one cared. Last was the bread, which had soaked up the juices from the meat and still had smears of apple on it.

The result left Ivy full, even as she licked her fingers clean. She’d have to go home to properly wash her hands, and she really couldn’t be bothered.

She checked the money she had left and had a look at the other stalls. She didn’t need gifts; she’d brought everything she needed and her family wouldn’t exchange them until tomorrow.

She paused by the sap sweets with a familiar weight in her chest. Her mother had loved these, and even though they were expensive, had always bought a ton. The plan had been for them to last the year, but they never did.

Ivy ended up buying a couple for old times sake. She popped one in her mouth straight away and intended to give the others to Ed and Yarra.

She bought a cup of mead, spiced and mixed with a potion from House Marvin that made it swirling lilac colour and added a lavender taste into the mix. She then wandered over to the massive bonfire, looking for the boys.

The bonfire was being manned by the local Guard, in case it got of hand. Around it people were selling dried herbs for a low price to throw on the fire, as such it was impossible to place the smell coming from the fire, but it smelt good.

She found Yarra arguing with Ed about buying these herbs.

“You’ve bout five already!” Ed signed, “I want to see what else is here!”

Yarra looked sheepish, having removed his scarf this close to the fire. “I just like the smell.”

“Evening,” Ivy called over.

“Aunt Ivy! Tell Yarra to stop buying herbs!”

Yarra spluttered in protest and Ivy laughed.

“He’s got a point,” she agreed, still rolling the hard sweet around her mouth, “here,” she held out the sweets she’d bought. “Give these a try.”

The boys looked at the amber/golden coloured sweets before popping them in their mouths. In unison their eyes went wide.

“Good?” Ivy knew the answer before both of them bobbed their heads in agreement. Ed eyed her drink too, fascinated by the colour.

“Can I try that?” he asked.

“It might be a strong for you. It’s mead.”

“Please?”

Ivy ended up caving the puppy look the green eyed boy sent her way.

“Fine,” she sighed and held the cup out, not letting go. “Small sip though.”

Ed took his sweet out and held it in a sticky hand before trying a bit of the mead. He seemed to like it, until the alcohol hit and he began to splutter.

“Put your sweet back in your mouth, should help.”

Ed did as Ivy suggested, and relief came over his face. Ivy raised an eyebrow and held her cup out to Yarra.

“I don’t suppose you want to try?”

Yarra shook his head, stepped away and signed “No thanks!”

Ivy just laughed. “More for me then!” she took a swig. “The stall should sell a diluted version though, it’s just that way, purple mead,” she pointed in the rough direction of the stall. The boys looked at each, and headed for it, and Ivy felt a small pang of urgency when she realised that they were going to have a hard time ordering.

Since Ed didn’t talk and Yarra had a hard time talking to strangers, in any capacity.

She spent a minute wrestling with herself before going to check on them.

Ed was too short to see over the counter, and Yarra, as expected, was looking through his fringe, half signing and possibly mumbling. There was a line forming behind them, which only served to stress Yarra out further.

Ivy started to walk over to intervene, but either the stall holder took pity or Yarra made himself understood. Either way, the two of them got their hot diluted mead.

Ivy just smiled to herself and wandered off. Otto was looking around, searching for more food to steal. They got the attention of some children, and Ivy managed to cajole Otto into being stroked by small hands by promising some more pork.

Since she wasn’t hungry, she rounded Ed and Yarra up and got them their share of the hog roast. She told them the deal she’d made with Otto first, and they were fine giving up a little bit of their food.

At this point Otto was falling asleep on her shoulder, so she just wandered around a bit, wondering whether she should head back yet.

The musicians would keep going until the small hours, at some point dancing would start around the massive bonfire. She’d gotten an earful from her grandma for missing that last year. People would hold hands and dance around it, almost mocking winter because, it’s dark and cold and easy to be lonely, so we’re not going to be any of those things!

It was annoying when she was in school. Crushes were rife and everyone made a big deal about who held hands with who. It was exhausting then and not worth the headache now. It was mostly random anyway!

Like Ivy’s thoughts were a cue. All the musicians went silent for long enough to attract attention to the silence. Then they started again in unison.

Everyone around Ivy downed and abandoned their cups before making their way to large bonfire. She sighed, downed hers too, and walked over.

Otto perked up a little bit, enough to balance himself as Ivy stood next to people she hadn’t seen since last year probably. There wasn’t much time to dwell on it as the music swelled, hands were held, and the dancing began.

The heat of the fire was right in her face, blisteringly hot as the ring of people skipped and jumped around it. More rings formed behind them as more joined in, and now Ivy was just focused on not bringing her line down.

There wasn’t much rhyme or reason to it. Organised chaos would be the best description. They’d go one way, and then there’d be a serious of whoops as the ring changed direction, the whooping continuing regardless.

It was silly, disorganised and even potentially dangerous given how close they were to the fire. That was the point.

The rings would slowly switch, so that everyone got a change to be right up against the bonfire. It was a slow process, people swapping places at random. Further back people linked arms instead of holding hands, so more of them stayed warm.

Ivy eventually escaped, sweaty and panting. Otto let out a small croak and nestled down her shoulder again as she looked for another mug of alcohol.

Mead again, it was her drink of choice. This time it was an almost glowing amber colour, and whatever potion was in it mingled with the herbs and spices to make her feel warm everywhere. Although she was warned if she drank it too fast her fingers would start glowing.

That sounded like a challenge.

She found out much, much later that evening, or, really early the next morning, that glowing fingers were a terrible idea when you’re trying to sleep.

---

(So, bit to go over. First, this is December 1613, so Yarra and Ed’s first Winter Celebration with with the Paris’s.

Second, so much of this is based on information from @shamrockace about Pagan and Celtic traditions this time of year. I haven’t got everything, I mostly picked and choosed what I wanted for this and I imagine everywhere in Duilintinn does it slightly differently anyway.

The dancing was off the top of my head. A large pig can feed a few hundred people and there will probably be leftovers. The stew would go in a bread bowl because those things are cool.

The sap sweets and the ‘spiked’ mead would be expensive, but Ivy’s income mostly goes on Watch and Guild membership fees, and the rare times she has to use an inn. Plus she’d have been saving up for today.

I think that’s it, have a good day everyone!)

#The Watch AU #The Paris's #The Greenwood Paris's #Ivy #Cyril #Charles #Mags #Yarra #Ed #Loburn #House Schneep #Holiday Celebrations #Layla #Watch Prompts

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mysticmikalla · 7 years ago

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Dear GodMikalla, please hear me! Jumin and Unknown (feel free to add others if you're up to it ≖ᴗ≖ ) misunderstanding that MC is cheating on them?? *scandalized gasp* thanks

I hear you! First request for Unknown :o I’m not sure if this is for Dark!Saeran or Unknown from Casual and Deep story, but I’ll write it as Unknown from CS!

I feel like im always apologizing for making these hcs too damn long so I’ll just…accept the fact that I can’t write short hcs :/

anyway i hope yall enjoy!

***

Jumin

If you had told him two years ago that another person could mess with his head like this, he’d quietly chuckle and shake it off, thinking how utterly pathetic is was to allow someone else to control them

He used to foolishly believe he was in charge of his own emotions, feeling only what he wanted to feel

But as he sat on the living room couch, alone and wondering where you disappeared to every Thursday evening, he realized that he could not have been more wrong

He felt as if he was going to be sick

Jumin’s heart dropped and bile pooled in his stomach whenever you could come home late and blatantly lie about your whereabouts

He had never been particularly attentive towards people’s emotions, but goddammit, he could read yours as if they were his favorite book

With each lie that rolled of your tongue, Jumin felt sicker

His mind ran through the worst case scenarios a million times; they all featured you with someone else, gasping and moaning an unfamiliar name as you had previously done only for him

He had witnessed it many times, wondering why people would stay in a relationship that no longer made them happy, but now he understood

The business man couldn’t bring himself to confront you about it in fear that you confirmed his darkest thoughts

Not wanting to disrupt things, he let these thoughts eat him from the inside, allowing them to make him grow weaker and affect nearly every single aspect of his life, especially his work productivity

He couldn’t even find it in him to touch you, despite wanting to claim you as his once more

What if you called someone else’s name instead of his?

This dragged on for a few weeks, until finally he couldn’t think about anything but your face, flushed with pleasure under someone else, and he could feel it start driving him insane

So that’s what brought him to sit on the living couch on a Thursday night, waiting for you to get home

Not the wine or his precious cat could ease his mind as he tapped impatiently on the arm rest, watching the minutes tick by

He wasn’t sure if his stomach fluttered with relief or concern when you finally showed up, wearing exactly what you had in the afternoon, only your attire seemed to be a little messier

“Hey,” you greeted your fiancé, “You’re up late.”

He didn’t reply

His eyes were fixated on your untucked shirt tail, his heart clenching at the sight

“What were you doing?” You asked, hanging your jacket on the hanger by the door

Standing up, he slowly made his way towards you, “I could ask you the same thing,” He towered over your much smaller frame, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, “What were you doing out so late?”

You didn’t hesitate or stutter when you gave him your answer, but he knew you were lying

He knew that you were, in fact, not out jogging with your friend. Not when there was a huge indoor gym at the penthouse, and not when he had called said friend who confirmed you weren’t with them

“Please don’t lie to me,” he begged in a murmur, pulling you in for a hug and burying his face in your hair, “You smell like cologne.”

“Jumin-”

“Please don’t lie to me, MC.” He repeated, and you could detect a small falter in his voice

“I told you, I was out with-”

“Then why did they tell me they had no idea where you were, just a few minutes ago?” He was weak when it came to you. Years of learning self-control were wasted as he felt a sting in the corner of his eye, the smell of sweat mingling with cologne was toxic to the raven-haired man as he hugged you tighter

“Jumin, hold on. I can’t breathe,” you pulled away, looking up at your husband’s troubled face, “You called my friend?”

“Yes,” He admitted, “Why are you lying to me?”

“I-”

“Who are you sneaking around with behind my back?” He dropped his hands from your cheek, the words being said out loud making his thoughts a reality

“What are you saying?” You frowned. His accusation felt like a cold slap to your face

“MC…Who are you cheating on me with?” He held your gaze, such conviction lingering in those dark eyes of his that you were forced to look away

Jumin took that as a confession of guilt, and his own gaze dropping when he felt the punch of betrayal hit him deep in the gut

Those seconds before you spoke again were easily the most agonizing he had ever experienced, and more than anything he wished to be the man devoid of emotions everyone claimed he was

Being heartless was sure as hell easier than having one ripped away

“I’m not-I’m not cheating on you!” You stuttered, taking a step forward and taking your hand in his. He didn’t pull back, hating himself for relishing the warmth of your tiny hands in his larger ones, “Hey, look at me. Why would you think that?”

“I’m no fool, MC,” He seethed, “You’re sneaking off and refuse to tell me where to, you’ve been lying to me even though we promised to always be honest with each other,” He squeezed your hand, “You come home late smelling like another man.”

As you took in his words, your chest eased and a graduate smile filled your lips

“I can’t understand why you would smile right now.”

Cupping his cheek, you told him “Dance lessons.”

“What?”

You caressed his cheek with your thumb, noting how unusually fragile he looked under your touch, “I’ve been taking dance lessons to prepare for our wedding.”

“Mc,” He breathed, “What are you-Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” You laughed, “I’ll never forget how you limped for days after the first RFA party, I’d be mortified if I did that during our first dance as your wife.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed when your words sunk in and the wave of relief washed over him

All the worries and cruel thoughts he convinced himself of your infidelity with seemed so silly now, and of course you wouldn’t ever do anything like that

He pulled you in his arms again, a deep sigh he felt he had been holding in for weeks now escaping his lips, “You don’t understand-” He murmured, “You can’t understand how worried I was.”

You nuzzled into his chest, “You know I would never-”

“I know, my love, and I’m sorry I accused you,” he said, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you finding someone else, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you softened, “I probably really did look suspicious, huh?”

“I may have overreacted,” he kissed the top of your head, “But, please…no more surprises, okay?”

“No more surprises.” You agreed

Unknown

He was fucking furious

It didn’t come much as a surprise to you when he barged in, eyes frantically scanning the room until they met with yours

You merely raised an eyebrow at your lover, wondering what would have ticked him off this time

The first few months with him felt like Russian Roulette, what sent him off the edge one day could make him fall into a fit of laughter the next

His emotions were so volatile, it was often hard to tell what he was thinking

But by now you were used to his tantrums, and you knew exactly how to soothe him

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” He fumed, taking long strides towards you. You tilted your head, replaying all your recent interactions to pinpoint exactly what was troubling him

He smacked down a picture on the table in front of you with such force, you instinctively took his hand in yours to see if they were hurt

But as if your touch burned him, he shook you off before you could check, nodding towards the photo

“Explain that.”

The picture was nothing more than a low-quality CCTV capture of you embracing a man outside his apartment, his back to the camera and a smile plastered on your face

“What am I supposed to be explaining, exactly?”

He laughed bitterly, “Hm, I don’t know, how about…The fact that you were with another man late last night when you were suppose to be with me? Or the fact that I literally just caught you touching him the way you’re only supposed to touch me?”

“Saeran-” You reached for him but he took a step away from you

“I don’t even want to hear your excuses,” he threw his arms up, “I just wanted you to know that I know, and that I’m fucking done.”

He stormed out of the room before you could defend yourself, leaving you and your sunken heart alone

Saeran wouldn’t answer your calls or return your texts, and since he practically knew of your whereabouts at all times, avoiding you was easy

It had been four days, the longest you two had been without seeing each other since you got together, and what you had first dismissed as one of his usual tantrums now flooded your mind with worry

To you, it was ridiculous that he’d get that angry over something so petty, but you knew his mind. You knew how utterly insecure he was despite the confident persona, and fear that he would do something stupid haunted you into sleepless nights

Your heart contracted painfully in your chest as you replayed the look of betrayal and hurt in his eyes, wishing there something you could do to rid him of such emotions

Groaning, you hung up before his voice mail message could play for the hundredth time

You were positive he had either blocked you or deleted your number, because if only he read your texts or listened to your pleas, he’d understand

“Saeran, come on!” You whined to your phone, tossing it on your bed in a fit of frustration

You slumped in your seat, wondering how you could get a hold of someone so untouchable

“Unbelievable.” You muttered to yourself, glancing aimlessly around the room

Your eyes were met with the tiny camera he had installed-after lots and lots of arguing- for your protection

One look at that camera and you knew, you knew he was watching

It was as if you could feel his gaze burning into you through the lenses, so you grabbed a pen and scribbled on some paper

Saeran watched with confusion as you waved at the camera, furious at himself that he couldn’t seem to take his eye off you for even a second ever since he stormed off

You pointed at the paper, knowing that the footage didn’t capture audio

‘WATCH THE REST OF THE FOOTAGE, YOU DUMB HACKER’

He rolled his eyes, how dared you call him dumb when you were clearly in the wrong?

How fucking dared you even try to explain yourself when he had caught you so shamelessly deceiving him?

Nonetheless, he replayed the footage of you walking with the mysterious man he already despised

Why were you telling him to watch it again? Were you purposely trying to hurt him? Was this payback for the way he treated you at the beginning of your relationship? Were you trying-oh

As he watched you and the man cut off the embrace, his seething anger turned into embarrassment when the man walked away, finally facing the camera where he could identify him

He glanced over the live CCTV footage of you in your room, where you held up another sign

‘THAT’S MY FATHER’

It was him now who slumped back in his chair, overwhelming relief coming out as a laugh

Running a hand through his hair, he cursed under his breath, “Goddammit.”

He mustered the courage to call you back, watching the CCTV as you picked up instantly

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asked oh-so-innocently

“Assuming the worst all the time,” You huffed, “Have some more faith in me!”

“I can’t help it,” he shrugged, putting his feet up on the desk and leaning further into his chair, “It’s how you rid yourself of disappointment.”

“That’s not true,” he could see you frown, “And you gotta start giving yourself some more credit. I’d have to be dumb to cheat on a hacker like you.”

“You are.”

“Just,” you laughed, pinching the bridge of your nose and ignoring his remark, “Get over here already, okay?”

“I’m busy.”

He didn’t even have to glance at the screen to know your eyes rolled back, “Stop playing so hard to get, I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, you hung up, hoping that he’d show despite your confident words that he would

But, Goddammit, it was a no-brainer

Of course he’d show

#request #ahhh im not really sure how to end this lmao #also ive never written for unknown before #so im not sure if this is ok or not?#anyway i love jumin #mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger fanfics #mystic messenger scenarios #jumin han #mm jumin #saeran choi #mm unknown #mysme

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womanlalaboy · 6 years ago

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Panhik #4: Batulao Revenge Hike

My first official climb happened during a typhoon at Mt. Batulao in Nasugbu Batangas. The 2-4 hour climb became an excruciating hike of 9-long hours. Can you imagine the struggle? I can still feel the leg cramps whenever I think about it. Wanting to quit at first peak would sound unrealistic, but believe me when I say that for a beginner like me (a heavy one), the conditions that time were just too much. Nevertheless, we made it and we vowed to avenge that painful trek by doing another hike. We wanted to see the Batangas landscape on a sunny day so we plotted to do it on a February- thinking that it would be a cold, comfortable and a pleasant hike. It was a sunny hike, but never a cold nor a comfortable one.

There were many things we failed to take into consideration:

What's up on that very day? We failed to consider the actual day of our hike. I didn't realize that it fell on a long weekend- a Sunday followed by the People Power Anniversary the next day. Over a thousand people of all ages and sizes swarmed the place to do a hike. Some of those have been there since Saturday. Some were planning to camp and stay til Monday.

Since our day of hike fell on a very busy weekend, we also failed to anticipate the availability of public transportation. We had to ride a jeep to Silang and wait for a bus bound for Nasugbu. We found one that is full and settled to stand all the way to our destination. From Imus, Cavite to Batangas, including the waiting time, I spent a total of 5 hours just to get to the jump off.

I failed to consider my health. I’m lactose intolerant, but mindlessly sampled the mais con yelo in one of the stops at Mt. Batulao, and bought an ice cream at the summit. On top of that, I didn’t get to bring my medicine.

The climb nonetheless was still fun. We got a cool guide, Kuya Paeng who wore a pair of running shoes and a camouflage coat. He looked more like a politician than a guide, to be completely honest. He said that they have over 200 official guides, but at that time, they ran out of people so he volunteered. He used to guide people up there, so he knows the way around Batulao. Since there were so many people, we decided to team up with another group. We got to meet a couple originally from Palawan. They’re a bit quiet, but we got the feeling that they’re also fun to be with. It just took us a few peaks to get a glimpse of their fun side.

Both of them are fair-skinned so when they told us they came from Palawan and moved up here to work, we didn’t believe them at first. Then they started talking about their travels, and how they find the time to go out despite having busy schedules as teachers. We also initially thought that they’re not used to climbing as they only brought a few stuff and those string bags triggered me a lot. We’ve realized that they’re actually just more prepared and practical than we are. They brought lightweight clothes, jackets to cover them up, enough trail food and liquid. They really didn’t need much.

We’re lucky to have met such nice people. Kuya Paeng and the couple we hiked with laughed with us and listened to when we tell stories of our first hike at Batulao. We really got along. We became their third wheel and Kuya Paeng became our father, especially when my stomach started to ache and needed to release so badly. I felt it at first after I took my share of that mais con yelo we got from one of the stops. There’s actually a group who camped and were cooking sopas when we got there. They even insisted that we wait for the sopas to be ready so we can all share a breakfast together. Instead, we got ourselves some mais con yelo and an egg. We told them we’ll get our share once we get back from the summit. We weren’t able to catch them, but it was alright. That sopas would’ve made my stomach ache worse.

The struggle started when we were approaching the look-out tower. We‘re seeing more people and felt that the path we’re taking was crumbling faster and easily more than expected. We actually took the old trail, then the new one towards the look-out tower and then the old trail again. But regardless of the trail we decide to take, we always see a line of people. They are most visible whenever we trek through the ridges. There were several points where we had to stop as well and let those from the top pass through. This usually happen at steeper paths like the photo below:

From higher points, people lined up looked like ants trying to find their way to get food. We stayed the longest at the summit along with many other climbers. It looked like a feast of the Nazarene. I even joked about it and told my friend, “nasa’n ang poon, teh? Ready na ‘yung bimpo ko.” (where’s the patron saint? My face towel’s ready). We just laughed things off then bought ourselves an ice cream which was a very bad decision on my end. I felt a sudden adrenaline. At the time, I was really considering releasing my shit in the bushes, but the summit is an open area and regardless of grass length, people will still be able to see me. I asked Kuya Paeng to help us get down the fastest. He went down to help guide the others descend so they could lessen the people up in the summit. It took him quite a while so we just distracted ourselves with jokes. “Akala ko teh Feb. pa lang? Bakit parang napaaga yata ang bisita Iglesia ngayon?” (I thought we’re still in Feb. Why do I feel like Visita Iglesia came a little bit early this time?) I jokingly said.

Kuya Paeng came back and told us we could go down the slopes where those tall and sharp grass are rooted from. He made us a new path so we could go down fast. However, we were only able to do that from the summit down to the first hill. We lined up along with the others ready to descend. It wasn’t nice to wait there under the scorching heat of the noon sun and my will to hold my literal shit together. There was a guy that was really scared of going down saying in his breath he’s only good at going up, but never down. I told him, “at least, hindi ka natatae.” (at least, you don’t feel like taking a dump), and we laughed at our worries.

I was pretty good at convincing my body that I don’t need to take a shit yet. I’ve successfully distracted myself. Then a guide shouted from down below, “oh, tiis tiis muna sa mga natate d’yan, papaakyatin lang muna natin ‘tong isang batch.” (Let's try to be patient with this for now, especially to those who would need to take a shit. We’ll guide this next batch up first.” to which I shouted, “Kuya, ‘wag mo nang ipaalala, nakalimutan ko na nga, e!” (you don’t need to remind us. I’ve almost forgotten about it!).

Even with what happened, I’m glad that we’ve seen the summit and the range clearly. Actually, over a thousand hikers did that day. It was a rare event, said the locals. They get a lot of visitors during weekends, but this only happens during long weekends and long holidays. Though Batulao is a favorite among beginners and experienced hikers alike, this massive visit would be detrimental to the protection and conservation of the mountain. 200 of them guides weren’t even enough to accommodate the number of hikers. We descended by afternoon and there were still more coming.

The path for sure doesn’t look healthy anymore. There were more loose rocks than usual which can be dangerous if you’re not too careful. The boulders are really what bothered me. They were shaking. Imagine a thousand people going back and forth using the boulders to help them climb up and down. There are also more stops compared to when we hiked in 2017. This means more commercial goods being brought up in the mountains which will result in trail trash if there’s no proper waste management. And yes, I believe there is none as we’ve seen a lot of trash along the way.

Pico De Loro, another favored mountain in Batangas had to be closed several times to allow it to recuperate. This is a possible sight that can happen to Batulao if we continue to mindlessly do what we’re doing that contributes to its likely destruction. Here are a few insights from a traveler’s point of view that are worth considering.

Mindful consuming isn’t only healthy for our bodies, but also for our environment. If you’re reading this because you fancy mountain climbing, then for sure you enjoy what mountain climbing can offer- great scenery, memorable adventure, stillness, simplicity, a moment to contemplate and breathe. There are other activities that make you feel alive, but there’s nothing else like mountain climbing. If we enjoy doing things like this, we should at least pay attention to how we affect our mountains. Taking care of the very thing that gives us pleasure wouldn’t hurt. It’s as simple as taking the protection and conservation of the mountain in mind whenever you have to visit one. When you are mindful of what you consume, you are also mindful of what waste you produce. Do you really need to buy that bottled water? Did you really have to get a bag tag from every mountain you climb or pick up that interesting flower along the way? If we continue to mindlessly consume things we don’t ultimately need, then we are just demanding their production which would have to involve non-renewable energy in manufacturing and probably non-biodegradable materials that aren’t really designed to be up or downcycled. Also, let’s bring our own trash back home and make something out of those than just leaving them in the mountains. Let’s have a little decency. It’s free.

Conscious traveling should be a traveler’s mindset. We get more than what we give when we travel and it’s only as important to be conscious with what, when and how we are visiting a place as to being conscious if we would need to bring an extra pair of underwear. Always think about the date of our travel and how it will affect everything. I failed to take that into consideration and I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. It’s best to visit a place off-peak than swarm the place along with the thousands of people trying to maximize their holidays.

Consider the locals and how they actually live their lives there. Water in Batulao is scarce, and the locals would have to share theirs with the visitors. Even with fees, a thousand visitor is still too much to accommodate. Batangueños are just naturally hospitable and friendly to allow people like me to use their toilets or bedrooms when the souvenir shops and eateries are just filled with people. My friends and I settled with damped towels instead of taking a bath. We also maximized the water we brought with us instead of buying bottled water in the area.

Help the locals to capitalize on goods that would speak their identity. I always find it nice to try things that are specific to what a place can offer. Batangas Lomi sounds about right.

MORE...

Also see: Batulao photo sets Also read: Panhik #1: Mother Mountain Also read: Panhik #2: Braving Batulao Also read: TUCLAS Climbs Gulugod Baboy Also read: Womanlalaboy's Travel Guide to Gulugod Baboy Also read: Womanlalaboy's Travel Guide to Batulao

#womanlalaboy #travelogues #batulao #mountain climbing #batulao revenge hike #hiking #hike #trek #trekking #mountain #mountains of the philippines #batangas #philippines #pilipinas #pilipino #filipino #pinas #pinoy

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novarasalas · 6 years ago

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Second Look Review: ‘A Little Adventure’

And here begins a review series of Voltron’s season 7, written up as i re-watch it. This is equal parts as a writing exercise and as me just wanting to share my thoughts and observations.

I’ll try to go light on meta and theories, sticking to just the facts, ma’am.

Well, that’s what I intended to happen, but this episode was very personal from the start, what with all the Shiro backstory.

So join me for this two-part review, where I switch on the projection machine and smash the overshare button.

Part 1: Laugh So You Don’t Cry

Let’s start with the easy stuff, yeah?

It features Coran, finally going full Thornberry:

...truly gorgeous.

We also have this amazing pair here:

And, most unexpectedly, a demonstration of yalmors linking at the ears, something we haven’t heard about since season 1:

I don’t have much else to say about this part. I would, however, like to formally request a spin off of Hunk and Romelle being so, so done with everything.

Part 2: The Meeting

So hey! It’s that back story everyone’s been screaming for, and boy, does this episode deliver. I really wish it had been solely dedicated to that story, though. I’m not a fan of the high drama/humorous aside splits they keep giving us. I know they do that to keep things interesting, cause hey, rated TV-Y7, right? But I always come out the other side of it feeling like I have emotional whiplash.

First, look at this:

Thank you.

So Shiro’s a bit of a celebrity? That’s pretty cool. I’m impressed.

Too bad Keith isn’t.

He’s even in the classic “anime protagonist seat”. Oh, Keith.

The subtitles here say: Shiro broke the record for the fastest orbital velocity, beating the old heliocentric speed by about 50 kilometers per second.

I’m a big damn nerd, so you know I had to look this up. Here’s what I found:

In 2018 though, a new NASA mission - Solar Probe Plus - will be launched. Designed to come as close as 8.5 solar radii to the Sun (that’s about about 5.9 million kilometers or 3.7 million miles), it will hit orbital velocities as high as 200 kilometers a second (450,000 miles an hour).

To just put that incredible figure into perspective - going this fast would get you from the Earth to the Moon in about ½ an hour. It is also about 0.067% the speed of light. (source: Scientific American -”The Fastest Spacecraft Ever?”)

I have no idea if they’re counting his record against something like that, or manned flight, for which the record is 107,000 km/h. That’s uh..that’s us. On Earth. We haven’t sent people into independent solar orbit yet.

Also, one day I’ll learn how to post links without breaking the tags, cause my source article was very interesting. Please go find it.

And now we have the simulator. We get that call back to “Taking Flight”, which I found to be a nice touch.

Keith, you’re the only one who could possibly fly through this.

And then Keith steals Shiro’s car and his heart, wasting no time in attempting to push him away. And he doesn’t just keep it between the two of them; Keith’s got a lot of misguided anger to share.

Nothing will endear you to your new classmates faster than signing the whole group up for a collective punishment.

But lessons are learned and everyone calms down.

..oh. Whoops.

Yes, the good ol’ collective punishment: let the jerkass’ peers sort them out. And maybe it would have worked in this case, except for the fact that Keith respects exactly no one.

When this episode first aired, I was seeing yelling about James being a bully, but to be honest, this is more of a case of two shithead kids being shitheads to each other. Keith doesn’t care how his actions affect others, and James reacted by going for a low blow about Keith’s parents.

I suppose they sorted each other out in the end, didn’t they?

So here’s Keith, the angry, lost kid, acting out in desperation and loneliness, and Shiro, who we now see risking his own good name to help him.

Why would he do that?

Now, a lot of what I come up with in the next part is my interpretation of Shiro based on my own experiences, because that’s all I have to go on. My one big gripe about this is that we don’t see Shiro until he’s a young adult. What was he like growing up? Does he try to help Keith because he’s a sweet guy, or does he relate to him in some way?

We may never really know. For my own purposes, I’m going to assume that it’s more of the latter.

Let’s look back at this interaction:

Shiro: “That’s the Calypso, the first ship to carry astronauts to the moons of Jupiter.”

Keith: “It took them three years to get there. Longest voyage of its kind.”

Shiro: “That’s right. Reading about that mission is what made me wanna be a pilot. Those astronauts braved the unknown.”

Nerd break:

The Juno probe made it to Jupiter in 5 years, arriving in 2015.

Right now it takes 9.5 years to get to Pluto

/nerd

Keith knows about the Calypso. You might think that the tiny, emo kid doesn’t seem the type to be into nerd stuff, right?

But I get it.

I didn’t have the best time growing up, and we know that after the death of his father, neither did Keith. I had one big obsession that got me through the badness: space. Sorry, two: space and dinosaurs. And giant mech shows. Er...three big obsessions.

But space was the biggest and realest. The 90s were an exciting time for space exploration, with the Voyager probes finishing up their grand tours, the ISS being built, and the first rovers being sent to Mars. It felt good. It felt hopeful.

And I think maybe Keith may have felt the same about space. After all, space was a big unknown. By nature, it couldn’t be good or bad, right? Not like home.

Or maybe it’s because he’s half Galra and always knew that he wasn’t fully of Earth. Or maybe it was both.

I can imagine that Shiro may have thrown himself into space for similar reasons. Because you know what really sucks having deal with growing up? Chronic Illness.

Part 3: Invisible

We come to realize, right along with Keith, that Shiro is sick.

When I’d first heard about this, I was both saddened and ecstatic. It’s not often that I get to relate in any way to a strong, capable, wonderful fictional character. ‘Cool!’, I thought to myself, ‘He’s a sicko like me.’ Immediately, my next thought was ‘Damn, he’s a sicko like me…’

Then a few things about his character began to fall into place.

I think we all noticed Shiro pushing Keith into the place of leadership via the phrase “If anything ever happens to me...”. And Shiro being chronically ill explains that. I’d been wondering for a while about what Shiro’s deal could be. Why did he think something was going to happen to him? Was is just planning for every eventuality, or was it something else?

Shiro’s a great leader, so it was probably both. But him being ill puts a new perspective on things.

When you’re chronically ill, you have to think about things a lot more than other people. You have to plan heavily for ‘what ifs’, and you had better be prepared.

Back in July, a friend and I took a trip to a con. This had been the first trip I’ve been on in years since I’ve been so damn sick. The preparation alone was exhausting. I had to make sure I had everything with me, and backups of everything just in case something happened. I had to make sure my meds and supplies were in reach if I needed them right away, but I also had to make sure that they were cool and out of the summer sun, because if they got too hot, they’d stop working.

The con was six hours away from home, and if I had needed replacements of these things, I would have to make soooo many phone calls and likely beg for help.

I had to have a conversation with my friend about what to do in case I had “an incident”. It’s humiliating; I’m a grown ass adult that has to preemptively ask people for help. Even though she’s my best friend, and I trust her so very much, it sucks.

In the end, everything was fine, but only because of careful planning. I can’t tell you how much I miss the days of just being able to go, to do, to not have to think about everything that could go wrong and possibly kill me.

So what I’m really saying here is that Shiro most likely has a lot of experience planning for eventualities. He’s also swallowed enough of his pride to discuss these things with Keith by the time the main story begins. And note: it’s only Keith he shares these things with, not the others. I don’t share these things with people who aren’t very, very close to me either.

Well, present company excluded, of course.

And here’s the part that I go projecting onto Shiro again, but as I said previously, until they give more backstory, it’s all I have to go on.

So, what about Shiro’s family?

That’s something that’s been talked about in the fan space for a while, too. Is he an orphan? Did they disown him? Unfortunately, the flashbacks we get don’t go back that far. All I have to go on to answer that are my own experiences, which are not good.

My heart swells every time I see someone talk about how their family supports them as they deal with their illnesses. How good it is that they have love and stability to help them through.

I don’t have that. I never did. My home life sucked before I got sick, and illness certainly didn’t help. I can say with certainty that if I had spent years in space out of contact with them, I wouldn’t be too broken up about it. There’d have been no video messages home, is what I’m saying.

I could see Shiro at this point in the flashbacks, gifted and celebrated, throwing himself at everything he could, working hard to prove that he’s worth something, proving that you’re not a lost cause just because you’re sick. I found myself wanting to prove things, too, taking on tasks and making plans and trying to show the world that I’m still useful, that I’m not lazy. See? I didn’t cause my own illness in an attempt to get out of responsibilities.

You’ll still get rejected, though.

So you learn to hide your illness from people that don’t need to know about it.

Shiro may have been like Keith: a lost, angry kid, pushing people away before they can make the decision to leave. It’s a difficult thing to grow up and only see disappointment in the eyes of the people who are supposed to be there for you. Again and again, they let you know in so many ways that you’re difficult to deal with, that somehow you’re a burden on them.

I can’t know for sure about Shiro, but I know that this is the truth for Keith. I completely understand why Keith would end up so attached to Shiro, the only person who was actually putting in a real effort to help him. I wish I’d had my own Shiro, ya know?

I can’t be all doom and gloom about this, though. I still like that one idea that Shiro was raised by his grandparents. I like to think that it was a happier time for him, as my time spent with my own grandparents was for me.

Of course, I could be completely wrong about all of this, and projecting way too much of my own problems onto him. For the sake of any alternate realities where Shiro is a real person, I hope that I am.

Next up: Part 2 - relationships are hard -and- an appeal to societies greater sensibilities.

#second look review #shiro #vld shiro #keith #vld s7 #vld #voltron #voltron s7 #meta #long post #such a long post #i'm so sorry #but that's why the read more #i swear the others won't be like this.#vld keith

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