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ahtsumu · 4 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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ante--meridiem · 5 years

Note

Minerva McGonagall!!! And also Harry Potter (I really like your Dumbledore takes, btw)

Thanks! Albus is a level of "favourite character" that few characters have ever really attained (certainly no other character in this fandom) so I probably put more thought into my takes on him than my takes on anyone else. Very glad you like them!

Minerva McGonagall

How I feel about this character: I like her! I... don't really feel I know her well enough to call her a fave though. She reminds me a bit of my high school maths teacher, who put on a great show of being strict but was incredibly sweet when she thought someone needed it. Well, in her own brisk, no-nonsense way. I can admire her ability to be there for people in an understated way while still projecting strength and not taking any shit, even if it's not a character type I feel especially personally connected to. I am a bit wary of how fandom treats her, though. She's set up as the teacher who can do no wrong and while I can't quite pinpoint an instance where she has been wrong, seeing any character get that kind of treatment puts me a little on edge. Oh, and the other thing I feel about her is that I can 100% understand Hermione being terrified of disappointing her because that is exactly my reaction to having a teacher like her express their belief in me.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Um. No-one, really?

My non-romantic OTP for this character: Probably with Albus. Let him have one good, close, supportive friendship in his life.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I guess what I said up at the top about being a bit on edge with how the fandom treats her? I think the reason it bugs me is because they then proceed to use her hypothetical reactions as a mouthpiece for their own opinions for extra authority. Also, portraying her as hypercompetent to the extent that she could have resolved the entire plot herself if she'd just stepped in and taken charge - I know every fandom has one character they like to use like that in fix-it fics but really, don't you think if she could have solved everything, she would have?

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I would have liked her backstory to be elaborated more in text rather than in a Pottermore essay. I don't especially mind that it wasn't, but I would have liked the extra depth. Also, I feel like any moment of seeing her truly vulnerable might have helped me connect better with her.

Harry Potter

How I feel about this character: Mostly I just want to give him a hug. He went through a lot, and I'm pretty impressed he never gave up despite that. I don't think I ever projected as much on him as other readers did, probably because I'm decidedly not a Gryffindor, but I admire him all the more for it because all the positive Gryff traits he has - incentive, daring, an eagerness to jump in to do the right thing - are exactly what I'm lacking, so I tend to look on at anyone who has all that with a sort of befuddled awe. Though it does make him seem a bit blundering at times, admittedly, but I've never gotten annoyed at him for it so much as just at the clueless protagonist trope in general. Maybe the one trait I do identify with is his desire to see the best in people and to empathise with anyone - I'm that person who felt sad for even the worst villains as a child, so the scene where he says he pities Voldemort hit home for me. Oh, and also his snark, his snark is great.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Mm, I'll admit, I'm not particularly invested in any of the teenage characters' romances? I do think the potential between him and Ginny is there, if a bit underdeveloped (the books, at least, give a few subtle moments that show how they'd be good for each other. The films, less so.) I don't ship him with Draco in canon, but I do appreciate the potential for some great tension and character development in an AU that develops their rivalry into something closer, even if it's not really my focus. Honestly, who he dates is probably what I'm least interested in about the character; all I'd ask is that it isn't Hermione.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: With Ron and Hermione is the obvious one, but I also find his friendship with Luna very sweet.

My unpopular opinion about this character: OK, you asked for unpopular, you'll get unpopular: I have no opposition at all to him naming his kid Albus Severus. I feel like all the alternative suggestions for names miss the point; why should he have chosen someone who was still alive, or has a family of their own? I also get very, very annoyed at people who are outraged that he forgave Snape and Dumbledore because they wouldn't have. It's perfectly valid and understandable if they wouldn't but he's not your self-insert, he doesn't have to do what you would do. I think it was completely in character for him to do.

Also, on a slightly less unpopular note, I didn't find him remotely whiny or annoying in book five. Teenagers are allowed to have feelings about what is happening in their lives and those feelings can turn into pent up anger. It would be dull and unrealistic if he was never moody.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Huh... I'm not quite sure. It's not so much that I'm incredibly enthusiastic about his canon ending as that I can't think of a better one? Him staying dead would have been way too bleak for a YA series (and, I mean, I like bleak fiction but this isn't really that kind of story) and if he's going to survive then I'd want him to have a happy, peaceful rest of his life for a change of pace. While "married with kids" wouldn't necessarily be the kind of happy ending I'd want for myself I can certainly see why it would be what he'd want - to give his kids the happy childhood he never got - so... even if I feel a bit dissatisfied, I have no idea what I'd prefer.

#minerva mcgonagall #Harry Potter #Thanks so much for the ask :D #Ask game #Anon #Ask

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thegreymoon · 6 years

Note

Sorry, You didn't really say or do anything to make me think that you are Asian. I thought that I read sth in your lj where u said that you were and just run with it. It was a long time ago and I must have misread. Also, you don't really post a lot political stuff, it is more like I notice it more because when I visit your page I skip all Merlin related stuff and am interested in the rest so again my fault. As for my ise of imaginary- yeah, it was passive agressive, altough not intentionally so

… my bad. I rarely engage in political conversations online because it never ends well, especially when my views clash with 90% of tumblr users so I am used to combative tone and it was unnecessary.. As for SJW I am not sure if that is dissmissive term as it discribes the “movement” well? I am not native speaker and am aware that it can be used as derogative term, but was also convinced that it is used by people on the left if political spectrum. I asked you why you are mainy interesetd in USA because I was working under the assumption that u are Asian it seemed to me weird that a person coming from China/Japan etc would be championing social justice in USA when it not that big of a problem(or at all IMO) whie ignoring very real problems in their own country. But since you are not Asian and you post political stuff rarely you are right it is a silly discussion. The fault is completely on my side. I am allergic to these kind of stuff and you are one of my favourite writers so I exaggerated. Once again sorry.

As for the rest of your response: I also come from relatively poor country that was screwed over by both Britain and USA and many other countries, and I don’t agree with many of their policies (or most) but I don’t hate them and believe that as much as people like to say they start wars for the oil etc it is not really true. There are many political and global players and everyone single country is motivated by greed it is only that not every country can exercise their power.

Relatively they are not the worst, it is just that since USA tries to paint themselves as heroes they are held to different, much higher standards than other countries. To sum it up, I am not defending their foreign policies, they have done a lot of wrong and are shortseighted but I still think that are better than other superpowers that will soon take over like China or maybe India. Also, I don;t understand why would you include global warming in your answer?why do you believe it is their fault

I am trying to leave as “green” as I can, I am a vegetarian and I believe we should do everything to preserve environment, but I wouldnt want my country to sign any deals concerning CO2 emission as long as other countries do not do the same. Otherwise, they would just cripple their economy and not help the world? As for Trump(if you are still interested) I find him the epitome of self-important, conceited stereotypical american but still so much better than alternative and despite distaste. would still vote for him. Because he at least apppears to be anti globalist and has a much higher moral ground than Hillary. what are his SPECIFIC actions that you find so abhorrent? Anyway, what I alluded to in my message was not politics of USA but the social justcie issues, like support BLM or me to movement(I am not sure if you posted enything regarding that, so srry if I presume wrongly) which I find are absolutely not based on facts and despite that people still perpetuate that, and if u don’t agree you are racist and sexist. No arguments whatsoever. It is also silly to me when I see the posts about the West being this cesspool of sexism while honour killings or FGM is nearly a non issue on social media or racism when considering the West is still the least racist place in the world when you compare it to China/India/SA or any other place. So, I find the social media effort to be misdirected and controlled by emotions. Even the indigineous people issued you mentioned. Americans get so much shit for their history, while pretty much every single country that exist was created by conquering or displacement of the previous population(u just have to go far enough down the history). So, yeah wht happend to Indigenous people and dissappearance of their whole civilization is a great tragedy but not the first and unfortunately not the last in human history. Why are we hearing about it but not about Anuit people or Persian or Byzantians? it is so imbalanced. Ok, anyway, sorry for the rant it shouldn’t be directed at you and tumblr is definitely not the place for it. Sorry if I offended to you. As I said I love your writing, “DC” is my all time favourite fic, and because I creepely once read through all of your lj(including asks and responses) I(like an internet creep and stalker)liked you and thought you seemed smart, well balanced and knowledgeable so I guess I felt entitled to to make the ask. Wish you all the best in life.

No worries, I’m sorry I came off so aggressive in my answer. I did actually live and work in China for a while during my LJ days and it’s entirely possible I may have tagged myself as being there on my fandom profiles at the time. It was a happy period for me and I talked about it a lot to anyone who had the patience to listen, so it’s very plausible that you have read something about it on my LJ! I’m very sorry if it was misleading, but I was only ever an expat there!

I used to be a lot more open about my real name and real-life dealings in fandom communities, but that almost backfired spectacularly, so I locked down a lot of stuff because it could do me quite a bit of damage.

OK, I concede your point that if you remove the Merlin stuff, a lot of what is left on my Tumblr is going to be either me reblogging cats or raging about social injustices (oops) 😅

I’d just like to make it clear that I absolutely do not hate either the USA, the UK or any other country in the world. Like I said, people are people, and disgusting policies are disgusting policies and every single country is guilty of them. It’s just that some have a bigger impact and are more visible. My own country is a source of so much shame and anger for me, it far outweighs anything the UK and the USA could have ever done because it’s personal, but our nonsense is just not something that I come across when casually scrolling through Tumblr, so I don’t reblog it. It’s possible to love a nation and its people and still be critical of the evil they have done.

Also, let me just clarify that I’m bothered by all injustices and human rights violations everywhere, but usually there isn’t a post about them when I’m scrolling at 2 am at night that I can reblog. The USA is just… low hanging fruit, and let’s face it, from where I stand, hating on their president, the white supremacists, the Nazis, fundamental Christians, racists and the Republicans in general after what they have turned into is not hating on the USA, but rather cheering on the sane part of the country to get rid of this toxic waste ASAP. The same goes for Brexiteers in the UK and I am so, so sad for all the people that are going to suffer because of it.

Of course, I’m aware that China and Japan have issues and human rights violations that are mind-boggling, but again, they just don’t appear on my dash very often, or at least not in English or from a source I can easily fact-check. The Japanese and Chinese stuff I follow is mostly art, nature and pictures of pretty clothes. My knowledge of either of these countries is very superficial compared to Western countries, which impact me directly, so it really isn’t my place to appoint myself as a champion of human rights in the Far East when my own country and continent are a growing dumpster fire that cannot be contained.

On the subject of global warming, I’m not blaming the USA (entirely, because they, of course, played their part, but so did the rest of humanity). I’m enraged by their governing body’s rhetoric as of late, the denial of climate change, every single action that Trump took since taking office (such as withdrawing from the Paris climate agreement), him making ignorant, snide remarks in the middle of the polar vortex just days ago while people were suffering, deliberately sabotaging scientists and spreading dangerous, false information when each and every single country should be all-hands-on-deck if we want to avert a disaster of global proportions (especially with all the signs pointing to us being too late already). Nobody is suggesting that the USA should unilaterally reduce carbon emissions, all countries in the world must do it and develop the technology to make it feasible to convert to clean energy. And yes, the USA, China and other giants have to lead the way because they are the ones with the power! My poor, tiny country is not the one that can impact anything, so yes, the USA is absolutely more responsible to lead the way forward, but instead of at least moving in the right direction, Trump is deliberately lying and sabotaging all effort because he likes the money he gets from Big Oil companies, and he’s giving a platform to religious nutcases for votes, who think that there won’t be a global disaster of epic proportions in the near future because God promised Noah he would never again flood the entire Earth in the Old Testament. It’s not even the outright evil that is bothering me the most right now, but the mind-numbing stupidity.

I have nothing but loathing for both of the Clintons. They have caused so much destruction in my country and I do not want good things for either of them, ever. I will never pretend that Hillary Clinton is anything even resembling a good person because you do not reach that level of power by having a conscience, but at the very least, she is not a rapist and paedophile that the general public knows of (which is more than we can say for her husband, btw). Trump has no moral high ground whatsoever, IMO. He has done everything imaginable, from scamming charities (this was proven in court) to raping minors (see Epstein). He has no redeemable human characteristics and is not even intelligent enough to pretend that he does, which is at least one thing that Hillary has going for her. I’m not going to sit here and list all the reasons why Trump is abhorrent because a) it cannot fit in a Tumblr post b) I would be sitting here for years.

I will also not engage in discussion about whether or not BLM is a valid movement, ever. I don’t understand what you mean when you say it isn’t based on ‘facts’. Which, facts are in doubt, exactly? It’s based on multigenerational, still ongoing trauma and persecution of an entire race of people! I’m neither black nor an American, but I believe African-American people when they talk about the terror they experience on a daily basis in their own country. I have eyes and I have ears, I know plenty of white people and have insight into how they think because I too am white and have been raised with similar bullshit. I have lived in Africa for years and seen things with my own eyes. I will never not take the side of black people when they protest racism anywhere and I will never not believe them when they talk about police brutality, race-based violence and systemic racism in countries built on slavery.

Of course, I’m not saying racism doesn’t exist in other places and in other forms, but talking about one does not negate the other.

Also, I don’t understand the point you’re trying to make about the West not being sexist because other places have it worse? I’m sure I misunderstood this, so forgive me if that is the case. FGM is terrible, yes, but that in no way invalidates other types of gender violence that still ruins the lives of countless women. Just because the women in, say, Saudi Arabia have it worse, that doesn’t mean that the women here or in the USA should not talk about issues that directly affect them (and, btw, I have absolutely been outraged about Saudi Arabia and FGM and shared posts about both). All are bad! This is not a competition.

On the topic of you saying that America gets so much shit for its history, which you think is unjust, I have to mention that European settlers killed up to 95% of Native Americans in some areas in relatively recent history. Just days ago, I was reading an article about how they killed so many people, it actually changed the global climate! This is genocide on such a massive scale, my brain can’t even comprehend it, and yet here we are today, with Columbus Day and Thanksgiving as holidays while the surviving Native Americans suffer all kinds of indignity and discrimination, so no, I don’t think we are talking about it enough and I feel that America deserves all the shit it gets for its history. IMO, it is not getting enough shit! The fact that there are other issues out there that need to be talked about too and are being silenced does not in any way take away from any of this.

Anyway, let’s not argue about which country is The Worst™ and which human rights issues are more worthwhile than others because that is pointless. We already agree that all governments are corrupt, that evil happened and is still happening all over the world and that all human rights issues are important. I firmly believe that if they were to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, 99% of all high-ranking politicians would be diagnosed with serious clusters of antisocial personality disorders. Most of them would do anything and the only thing stopping them is whether or not they can get away with it. The remaining 1% cannot really do much and keep both their conscience and political power intact.

In any case, the last thing I want in life is to get into Tumblr discourse with LJ people, so how about we just put this behind us? Let’s agree to disagree on who is worse, Trump or Hillary, because that is a pointless disagreement, especially since neither of us is an American and this is getting out of hand. I feel like we are actually miscommunicating and talking about different things. We seem to be arguing different points, so all of it is coming off worse for both of us than it really should be. Also, I wish you hadn’t sent me this ask anonymously, because I now have no way of responding to you except publically, and Tumblr is seriously not a good place for this.

On a happier note, I’m very glad that you enjoyed DC! I’m very sorry for the extremely long hiatus! Unfortunately, I’ve been going through things that stopped me from writing for a long time. I hope that one day I can still come back and finish that story, in spite of everything! Have a good day/night! :)

*hugs*

#social issues #Anonymous #tl;dr

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mylutteoheart · 7 years

Text

No Quiero Sentirme Un Cobarde

So it’s officially the last day and I had so much fun reading and writing, I hope you guys had fun too. I am sad that it’s over but at the same time Soy Luna will be back in exactly one week so that’s a good thing I guess. Btw I had a hard time picking one scene out of all of them because I feel like they messed up so many scenes for Lutteo. I do hope we get a lot of romantic scenes between these two in the second part to make up for the drama in the first part and I also hope that they have some episodes where they’re an an actual couple because I know how much they like drama, especially between the main couples. I wanted to say thank you again for all the nice things you said about my fics, it means a lot to me and I do hope you keep enjoying my writing because I’m not planning on stopping anytime soon.

So this fic is how I wanted one particular scene to end up in the first part of season 2. It was in episode 33 where they were all just done with school, I think and Matteo was about to tell Luna how he feels but then Fer sent hm a video about Luna and Sebastian pretending that he’s asking her out and Matteo thinks they are together.

prompt: fix it fic day (where you fix one canon scene to your liking)

Matteo walked with Gastòn out of school and followed Luna to make sure he will catch her to be able to talk to her. He was very nervous and he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to do. He knew that the following conversation will be the most honest he has ever had with Luna, thinking about it, made him even more nervous.

They both stopped in their tracks to prepare Matteo for what’s about to come. He watched her walk away, trying to build up his confidence.

“Are you sure about what you are going to do?” Gastòn asked one last time to make sure that Matteo was sure about his choice.

“Yes.” Matteo smiled at the thought. “I don’t have any doubts. I’m going to tell her everything that I feel” he kept looking at her with admiration while he was saying this.

“Okay, then good luck.” Gastòn and Matteo did some kind of bro shake with their hands. “I’ll be there if you need me.” His best friend told him and then he left to sit on one of the benches nearby.

Matteo walked to Luna full of confidence and anxiousness. He was nervous about the way she would react and he not so secretly hoped that she won’t reject him and tell him everything she feels.

“Luna!” He called out to her.

She heard him and turned around because she wasn’t sure who called out her name. But she assumed that it was him and when she turned around and her assumption was confirmed.

He walked to her smiling and happy to finally tell her how he really feels about her, Luna had no idea what was going on so she looked at him with confusion and wonder on her face while he was walking towards her.

Then, suddenly. He heard his phone. He had a message and he stopped to check who it was from. He took a quick glance at her before he looked on his phone. Luna just kept standing there, waiting for what he was going to tell her, she frowned because she didn’t have a clue about what was going on.

Luna frowned even more when she saw Matteo’s face full of confusion and wonder while he was looking at his phone.

He looked at his phone and it was a message from Fer but he didn’t check what the content of the message was because he didn’t want anything to get in his way right before he could tell her what he wanted to tell her.

“Matteo.” Luna called out his name and he looked up from his phone. He forgot the message instantly. He smiled at her because he was so happy to see her but she didn’t return it, that made him a little dissapointed but it didn’t stop him from his mission.

He started walking towards her again. He has to do this now, he can’t postpone it anymore. He needs to tell her now.

He finally stood right before her and he couldn’t stop smiling but she still had that look of wonder on her face.

“What do you want to tell me?” She didn’t even try to hide that she wanted to be anywhere but here.

Matteo started sweating and his heart was beating so fast. He got more nervous by the minute. “I… Don’t really know where to start.” He admitted shyly.

“Why not start at the beginning?” She said sharply.

“Okay.” He needed a minute to think. “I’m sorry, Luna.” He tried to start.

“Sorry for what? For lying to me about having a girlfriend? For pulling away from me for no apparent reason?” She gave him an angry look.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He said with all sincerity.

There was something in his eyes that made her believe him and she knew she wanted to jump in his arms and kiss him but she resisted the urge. She stopped because she remembered all the pain that he put her through.

“You really think you can just apologise to me and think that everything will be alright after that?” She was getting angrier now.

“No, you’re right. An aplogy is not enough. I know that. But just know that everything I did, I did for a reason.” He tried to explain.

“And what could possible be the reason for doing all of this to me?!” She started yelling a little.

“I did all of this because I love you.” He said, trying to stay calm to her outburst.

“What kind of reason is that?” She didn’t believe him.

“I love you and I wanted to protect you and I realize now that I approached the situation in the wrong way.” He pleaded.

“How is lying to me a protection for me?” She didn’t understand a thing.

“I lied to you because I didn’t want to hurt you.” He sighed, he had to tell her the entire truth. There was no way going around it anymore. “My dad is pressuring me to go to Oxford next year. I thought it’d be better if you forgot me because I knew that it would hurt you if I left. You would have fought for me until I got on that plane. I didn’t want us to be together and making all those amazing memories with you to leave you afer that and never speaking to you again. I just couldn’t do that to you, you don’t deserve that.” He looked at the ground because he was a little ashamed of everything he did.

“Matteo, that’s nonsense. We were able to be together during the summer when you were miles away and we were both okay with the situation. We did a long distance relationship before. What makes you think that we couldn’t do this again?” Her voice was softer now.

“During summer, we knew that we would see each other again but who knows if we ever get to see each other again when I leave again.” He explained.

“We would have figured it out. I know that for sure. I know we are so much stronger than this and you know that. Maybe you were afraid, afraid that it wasn’t going to work out and that it would end more painful than when you just broke up right after you came back. You were afraid of getting hurt because you know that what we have is special and unique. You knew that if we ever started dating for real, it would get serious and your feelings would grow even more and you knew that you’d be heartbroken if it didn’t end well between us. I think you were afraid of that pain because it would be too much for you to bare, it would be too much for us to bare.” She looked at the ground as well, she was getting sad of that image. “But you know what, Matteo? I’m not afraid. I know that we’ll get trough everything that would be thrown at us. I know that we’re strong enough to get through it together.”

Matteo was a little startled by her words but he did manage to get out what he’s been wanting to say all this time: “Luna, I love you so much and I tried everything to forget you but nothing worked. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. I know what I did was stupid and I acted like a coward and I don’t want to be that anymore. I’m willing to fight for you, no matter what it takes. I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and I want us to try again and this time I’m all-in. No matter the circumstance, no matter the obstacle. I will fight for you, for us. I promise you that.” There was a spark of desperation in his eyes and Luna couldn’t resist the sadness mixed with regret and desperation in his eyes. So she leaned in and gave him a huge hug. Matteo was surprised by her move but he was happy about the outcome of their conversation. He pulled away slightly to be able to look into her eyes to find something but all he could see was love and that’s all he needed to lean in and kiss her with all that he’s got. She kissed him back instantly. The kiss turned deeper and with more desperation like they need each other to be able to breathe. Their kiss slowly turned into a make-out session and they stayed like this until they needed air to breathe. He now knows for sure that he made the right move to talk to her and he knew he needed to do a lot to be able to regain her trust again and he was willing to give everything for him and he made sure she knew that as well.

#lutteoficweek #soy luna #lutteo

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lafayeeeeeet-blog · 7 years

Text

Brace yourself

this is a collab fic between me and @mon-cher-angelique !, this is my first time ever even writing story, so ya. (mon-cher-angelique is the true genius behind this, i was just kinda there) Mon-cher-angelique is also posting this same fic on their account too so check them out! (btw this idea was partially based off of @bunny-yams art)

Word Count: 3900

Pairing: HamilSquad x Reader

Summary: The reader decides that it's finally time for some braces but what will their boys think? Will they even tell them. Only time will tell.

The clinically white walls of the unrecognisable office swirled around your body in a drug infused haze, a feeling of numbness having already surpassed your mouth and running downwards towards your legs. Any pain that your body was registering and attempting to communicate with your non-functioning brain cells were quickly being overridden by the anaesthetic that was coursing heavily through your bloodstream and rerouting your neurons to fall into a sublime forgery of blissful ecstasy. As you attempted to move your heavy limbs off of the dentist’s chair that you had been trapped within for the past 2-3 hours, you began to realise how heavy and limp your legs had become as the numbness spread and infected every nerve in your system. All because your teeth had been caged into a 3 year commitment that they never truly agreed to.

Your body slowly shifted, sliding down the chair in an uncomfortable and uncontrollable manner. The orthodontists was busy else where currently, leaving only the nurses to watch your embarrassing fall to the cold, hard ground in the sterile office. You splurted out an incoherent string of apologies but every word seemed to arrive into the atmosphere in a forced and muffled manner, very different to the melody of chords that used to arise from that small box in your throat. Was this how you would alway sound now? Like a child whose teeth had never even arrived or a person wearing a set of teeth guards as they played a contact sport.

The nurse took a minute to even comprehend what was going on but she soon snapped out of it and helped you off the ground, which took a few times considering you could barely move your body. Finding it a difficult process to even lift your body in this distorted state. The Orthodontist came in shortly after the nurse finally managed to get you back on the chair. He spoke in a very soft tone, almost patronizing yet despite your mental state, you could tell it was unintentional.

“Hello (Y/N), how do you feel?”

A slur of words came out and the orthodontist quietly chuckled to himself,basing his judgment off of your face that was crinkled in anger at the lack of movement your body possessed. The orthodontist turned his back to you and gathered a bunch of tools that would be useful in this new, painful chapter of your life. With his back still turned to you, he started asking you pointless questions such as want color toothbrush you wanted. The decisions seemed futile so you simply pointed to a random colour which in turn the nurse provided you. Your whole mouth felt as dry as the desert and like it was stuffed to the be with cotton wool.

The doctor continued to ramble into you about care for your braces and the necessities that could no longer be avoided. Concentrating was possibly the hardest thing to do when the drugs were still in your system, your eyes never being able to focus properly on the orthodontists unattractive face. No wonder they had to earn a lot of money, if they all looked like him then they would need it. His hooked nose that bent to the left, his beady little eyes that didn't have a colour and his messy hair that wouldn't seem to sit still no in any direction. To be honest though, since you started dating your boys, you had found every male unattractive and staring up the doctor’s nose hairs did not improve his image. One of the nurses, you think her name was Maria, gently tapped the orthodontist’s arm to indicate that you were barely able to sit on a chair, let alone remember his easily forgettable monologue. Yet seeing how slutty this Maria dressed, she could have possibly tapped the orthodontist for a booty call or a quickie, probably the reason why her boobs were practically hanging out of her shirt for the whole operation.

“ (F/N), (L/N).” The doctor muttered as he stared down at his clipboard with your information on it. Look, he had already forgotten your name, probably something to do with Maria’s tits. “Due to the need to install some fillings and do some minor dental repair - We were required to put you under anaesthetic. It seemed to have affected you dramatically and as per usual, you are unable to drive and it is certainly suggested to stay away from all alcohol and any drugs that are not prescribed. As you are unable to drive it is required that you have someone to come and pick you up from the office.Do you have anyone? Do you need me to call your next of kin or your partner?”

You slowly shook your head, there was no way you were letting your boyfriend’s see these braces before you had enough time to adjust. You smiled as your remembered that you had called your older brother to come and pick you up, then you stopped smiling because of the pain. A knock echoed through the surgery room, causing the inhabitants of the room to turn and wait for the grand entry. A tall, frizzy headed man peeked through the door with a nervous grin on his face.

“That would be me, the most amazing brother this world has ever seen.” You groaned as Thomas Jefferson spoke, a cheeky grin lighting up his entire face. Gosh, why couldn't you have called Madison or someone? “It's alright doctor. I'll take them home and tell their boyfriend everything they need to know. they are just embarrassed about having to get them back on because they didn't look after them well enough the first time.” His gloating came as a sharp jab to your ego. It was true that the only reason you were needing braces this late in life was because you had some jack all to keep them perfect. You didn't wear your retainer, your dental hygiene was often poor except for a brushing and you never wore tight enough bands. Plus, What was all this boyfriend nonsense? You clearly had a polyamorous relationship - why wouldn't he just say it? You growled angrily at Tom as you crossed your arms and stared daggers into his skull. Why the fuck did you pick him?

“That’s great…(Y/N)!” The awkward pause between his sentence and your name was to provide time for Dr Reynolds to actually look down at your papers and find your name. You just wanted to be out of this hell hole and you wanted it quickly. Dr Reynolds handed Thomas enough pieces of paper to make a small manuscript as rambled on about the importance of food and instructions on how to care for the metal cage in your mouth, all while you were just mumbling to yourself and fiddling with your fingers. You gripped your brothers long sleeve and tugged on it as gently as your fumbling hands could, quickly grabbing his attention. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and a pat on your head and gave you a hand single that represented that he would be just a minute. Thomas was a very kind, gentle man and he never left his siblings when they needed him instead he would take them under his arm and coddle them until he deemed any danger to be gone. His attention was quickly snapped up by the orthodontist once more before your tugging quickly began, making him sigh gently as he swapped the sleeve trapped in your clutches with his own hand as an attempt to calm you. He didn't understand what emotion you were feeling as the drugs continued to backhand you into reality. Once Thomas and your orthodontist were done talking, Thomas walked up to you and spoke softly.

“Hey (Y/N), you ready to leave darlin?” his southern drawl started to peak out. It was a creature comfort to hear your brothers natural accent. You managed to speak out a spluttered form of yes, embellishing the new lisp that you hadn't had for almost 7 years. Your entire body was flaccid and lax, your eyes barely managing to stay open as you narrowly attempted to keep your body awake. Thomas scooped up your slack body, which naturally draped itself and contorted to provide him a gentle grip so he was able to carry you. Thomas pecked your forehead gently as he carried you bridal style down the flights of stairs and into his imported, fancy car that your parents had bought him.

“Y-youuuu shaid that I had a boyfriend. I h-have four, shhhhithead.” You groaned. Everything about talking was annoying; your added lisp, your stutter and the elongated way you stretched out your words. Not to mention the pain.You were almost crying “Ow…”

“I’m sorry (Y/N). I know it hurts…I went through it myself remember but think about the positives. Your teeth will look amazing darlin! Heck, I will even buy you all new veneers so they are pearly white just like mine. Besides, your boyfriends will love it.” His words were met with an evil stare as he gently placed you in the passenger seat of the car, letting you do your own buckle because you were strong and independent. Plus he had copped a beating from you before and he didn't want to relive those terrifying memories - especially when you were in this foul of a mood. “The only reason I didn't mention them was because I doubt that Dr Reynolds would understand. So look, I am sorry. Just please don’t hit me while I am driving.” His words were gentle as he shifted his bulky frame into the hideously painted, custom maroon Lamborghini.

“Fine but-t onshy becaushue you ashked nicely, youuu fuckerr”

--------------------------------------------------------------\(•^-^•)/--------------------------------------------------------

On the drive home, you began to question the driving system of America - How the fuck had they let your brother on the road?If it wasn’t bad enough that you were already in pain, having Thomas speed over every bump as though he was a race car driver, almost made you break your word about no hitting him. The wheels of his ugly yet expensive car came to a speeding halt on the bitchumen road outside of your New York apartment building, barely parking in between the clear white lines of the car space. “We’re here!” he said as he turned to you with a Cheshire cat grin spreading across his defined cheekbones.

“Shank Fuck forr shat!” you groaned as you quickly opened the door, before hastily unbuckling yourself. Your brain failed to recognise in its desperate attempt to free yourself of your brother, that the nerves which played a cumbersome role in maneuvering , your entire body were currently fired, leaving your lax figure falling to the unbreakable gravel beneath the custom wheels of your obnoxious brother’s car. Thomas was still busy trying to change the radio back to whatever songs he was playing before you infiltrated his radio system on the drive here when he heard the distinctive crash of your body colliding with the road. Thomas quickly threw off his seatbelt and dashed to the passenger side of the car only to see you passionately bombarding the ground with kisses. His grin disappeared to a flicker of worry before a hyena like cackle filled the air, how typical was it for you to complain about his driving in the most dramatically way even if you were high on drugs.

“My driving isn't that bad (Y/N).” He chuckled as he bent down to his knees and gave you his hand. Holy shit, had your brother had a manicure? Madison must have had something to do with this, you could tell. Taking his hand into your own grip, you let him pull you up so your feet landed gently on the solid floor beneath you.

A heavy groan escaped your lips before and words could be formed by your dazed brain. “For onsh I’mm not trying to complain about your shhhit driving” your new lisp heavily impairing your speech like a drunk man on his sixth beer. Your brothers laughter died down to a slight giggle as he propped your lax body up with his toned arms. Letting you balance yourself on his broad shoulders in an attempt to disconnect you from your current partner, the ground.

“Alright alright, let’s get you off of the nasty, grotty road and get you home, I don’t think the ground appreciates how you are touching it anyway” with whatever body movement you had left, you rolled your eyes at what he said as he picked you up again to bring you inside. He bested your weight easily, as though you were no more than a feather, as he lead you into the lobby of your shabby apartment building that you shared with your boyfriends; Lafayette, Hercules, John and Alex. Stumbling, wobbling and terrifying was the only way to describe your fifteen minute long journey to level4, your apartment being on level 8. It was at this point in time when Thomas realized he forgot every document that the orthodontist had provided you with on caring for yourself in your…impaired state. “Fuck” he muttered aggressively. “I’ll be right back (Y/N), I forgot your papers. Don't move okay? No trying anything stupid, I need you to stay in one piece so the boys don't kill me”

He sat you down on the ground, giving you another coddling kiss on your cheek before he raced back down the flights of stairs to retrieve them. You sat there for the first five minutes just fumbling with your thumbs acting like a toddler who couldn't be left alone without supervision for 5 minutes without causing mischief. Some people passed by and they gave you strange looks, recognising you as that weird girl with four boyfriends from level 8 but you just shrugged it off. It had become normal for you to do that. You were starting to wonder where Tommy was, did it really take this long to get some papers? Especially with his long legs. After a what felt like a millennium of waiting, you saw your older brother nearly trip up the stairs in a rush to get back to you. You started to giggle wishing you could have seen him actually trip, the mere thought of him tripping made you smile. Something that Thomas hadn't seen in the hour and half since he picked you up from the orthodontists office, New York traffic was a nightmare.

“What are you smiling about? Oh whatever, it probably something immature, you are on drugs after all. Not that you don't laugh at stupid crap for no reason without drugs but you’re just a weirdo (Y/N).” He brushed it off like he didn’t care, but it made the fake French man ecstatic to see you smile, he loved seeing you happy. “Come on, let’s get you up stairs now before your boyfriends hunt me down and accuse me of stealing you”.

He allowed you to lean on his shoulders yet again before hiking up another four flights of steep stairs to get you back home finally. As you reached your apartment, he knocked on the door loudly, purely to piss of alex because he knew alex hated that obnoxious loud knock, Thomas’s favourite pastime was pissing off your shortest boyfriend. Noises echoed from the inside of your home, the sounds of booming footsteps echoed into the hall as four men clearly raced to answer the door. The door was viciously swung open to see your four men as excited as Pomeranians hearing the word ‘walkies’ in an obnoxiously high pitched voice. Alex was the first to shove everyone other man aside in order to see their little angel arrive back home. You had left the house that morning proclaiming you had a doctor’s appointment but you never specified what that meant or involved, hoping that no would notice the embarrassing barriers clasping your teeth together. It was impossible not to notice a set of braces, so you knew it was best to keep your mouth shut and not say a word. What would happen if they kissed you? The last time you kissed a boy when you had braces, he cut his tongue on the snipped wire when he tried to French kiss you. Thank god it wasn't your boys.

“(Y/N)!!! My god your home. I missed you! How was your appointment?” His babbles bombarded your sense as you felt the short man jump into your warm and unexpecting embrace. His started planting kisses all over your face, once again resembling a small dog that had been away from his owner for too long. Suddenly is dreamy gaze turned sour, realising who the man behind you was. “Why are you here Jefferson?”

John had to stifle a giggle as Alex's face started to resemble an angry tomato, caught somewhere between rage and blushing. His furs with Jefferson managed to surpass the office doors every time he left for work, bringing his hatred for your eldest brother into the small apartment you all shared.

“I came to drop off my sister, fuck face. Don't look so surprised, I can show affection to people Hamilton. They just have to deserve it.” He retorted back with a cheeky smirk spread across his face, your closed fist colliding with his beefy shoulders in a hard punch. “Ow, piss off metal mouth. I am just telling your idiot of a boyfriend over here that I care enough to pick up my little sibling from the orthodontist when they had their braces put on. Where were they, Huh?”

You face palmed your face aggressively, letting a sigh out. Why the fuck had he said that?

“Orthodontist? Metal mouth?” John said confused. What on earth was Jefferson talking about today? . “Why would he call yo-” John cut himself off quickly realizing that you got braces. The men had known you used to have braces “Open up let me see” he spoke sternly. You tried to refuse, squirming you head away from his grip but eventually you gave in. The pain of having your face prodded and briskly moving away from someone's touch spread through your face, feeling like a car colliding with a tree.

“Oh mon amor…why didn't you tell us?” Questioned Lafayette as a pout quickly enveloped his face. His large eyes looking genuinely shocked and upset with your hidden medical agenda, making your heart break into tiny pieces.”Were you scared we would tease you? We would never tease you mon cher! We love you… why hide it?”

“Ish hurtss.” You cried back, your bottom lip wobbling as tears streamed down your face, clouding your beautiful eyes. “I n-no like my brashis.” You whispered as Hercules pushed through the men and hugged you tightly, slowly leading everyone including your brother into the apartment’s lounge room. Setting your body gently down on the couch, pecking your forehead gently, he was far to scared to kiss your lips.

“Do you mind dropping the affection? I'm here too you know and it's bad enough I have to see them kiss ponytail over here.” Said Thomas as he spread himself out on the couch, letting his feet sit on the coffee table as though he owned the place. You grumbled angrily as you have him a hard smack to the chops, trying to get him to take back the statement and to understand his place here. Alex looked fuming as he got up ready to start a fist fight with your brother, one hard stare from you brought your little lover him back to reality.

“If you don't lishk it, then pisssh off fuck facesh.” You spat back quickly, letting yourself be cuddled by Hercules. Lafayette seemed to think this was a hoot as he started to holler in fits of laughter, slapping his hand roughly against the side of the couch. Alex looked like the cat who caught the rat, a smug grin and a raised eyebrow with a small head nod let Thomas knew where he stood here.

“Your lisp is adorable baby.” Said John as he kissed your cheek gently, slowly walking out of the room and into the kitchen. You made grabby hands for your boyfriend as you watched him walk away, what was he doing? “Don't worry kitten. I am making you something to eat. What do you want?”

“Oh about that. Yeah, here's some papers turtle boy. It's says what they can and can't eat.” Said Thomas as he threw the white bag to John, filled with papers given to you by the orthodontist. Johns face contorted into a shocked expression, the colour draining from his face.

“What did you mean they can't eat popcorn?!?!” Screamed john as he scanned the typed words. How could they not eat popcorn or hard candy, that was there lifeline these days. All five of them would come home and make a bowl of popcorn and watch a movie, a small token of appreciation for the person who did everything in the tiny apartment. John attempted to win over his lover “I'll tell you what. We can eat it one last time, just the five of us,” all the boys moved their heads simultaneously nodded their heads, trying to get Thomas to catch on. “We can settle down and watch a movie. Snuggle up to the most beautiful person ever with the most adorable lisp I have ever heard. The five of us…Just us.”

“Fine, fine. I know when I'm not wanted here. Remember, my Mac and cheese will be nice in your teeth. Eat that for dinner.” huffed Thomas as he grabbed his distastefully purple jacket and gave you a small kiss. You loved your big brother no matter what happened and it was times like these that you truly appreciated him for what he is.

“NO YOU FUCKING DON’T OTHERWISE YOU WOULD HAVE LEFT HALF AN HOUR AGO RAT MAN!! BUGGER OFF YOU FUCKER!” Screamed Alex loudly, stomping his foot on the ground like an upset child. “AND YOUR MAC AND CHEESE IS SHIT THOMAS. “ he slammed the door behind your brother, not wanting to hear or see his political nemesis for another week until the next cabinet battle.

You giggled as you sat on the couch with your boys, your metal braces in clear view for your partners to see. As Alex returned back into the loveseat that you all shared, he carried a fluffy blanket from the linen closet. Draping it over your body before plopping down beside you. John returned from the small kitchen with a bag of ready made microwave popcorn, dripping in butter (just how you liked it) under his right arm and a bowl of hard candy in his left. He slapped them down on the table as Hercules put on a movie and Lafayette fiddles with your hair gently. Maybe having these braces weren't so bad.

“You knows, I love you boysh.”

“We know mon amor. We know. You know we love your braces and your lisp? It sounds adorable.” Questioned Lafayette with a wink as his arm slipped across your shoulder and pulled you close so that all of the boys sat together on the same couch with you.

“I know. My amashing boyfriendsh.”

#poly!hamilsquad x reader #hamilton #Alexander Hamilton #hamilton x reader #thomas jefferson #lafayette x reader #mulligan x reader #john x reader #braces #lisp #john laurens #lafayette #Hercules Mulligan #brother thomas

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edenfalling · 7 years

Note

For the DVD commentary meme - Chapter 7 of the Courting Dance (the wedding scene).

For @bluejayfic, forthe Fic DVD Commentary Meme (which is still open, fyi! just drop me an ask)

TheCourting Dance: Marriage is a bit more complicated thanquarreling and making it up again, especially for the crown prince ofArchenland and an exiled Calormene Tarkheena. (21,000 words)

Chapter7 - The Beating of Our Hearts: Running from your problems israrely a good long-term solution, but sometimes the change in environment canbe helpful – especially now that Aravis and Cor are on the same page. (1,600words)

As @bluejayfic mentioned, this chapter is the one with the wedding scene. What was I thinking,putting the wedding halfway through the story? Well, I was thinking that theplot is as much about politics and worldbuilding as it is about romance, andthe wedding is a major symbol of Aravis and Cor deciding to commit to eachother despite various obstacles. Also, while it resolves their interpersonalproblems, it doesn’t resolve their external problems at all – in fact, itmakes some of them worse. So I figured it would make a good central turningpoint, where we switch from Aravis and Cor being pissed off at each other tostanding back-to-back against the world.

———————————————Chapter 7 - TheBeating of Our Hearts, with commentary———————————————

Aravis disliked the journey into Narnia, though she had gonewillingly five times during her first year in the north, so that she mightspeak to Queen Lucy and spend a week or two in a place where her role wasclearly defined. The Narnians treated guests nobly and never begrudged herorigin, despite Queen Susan’s ordeal, whereas the Archens held ancient enmitywith Calormen and were rarely sure what to make of her status – somethingpartway between king’s ward, long-term guest, and unofficial hostage.

This is a little repetitivein terms of story arc – we get it; Archenland has ISSUES with Calormen – butI needed to explicitly establish that Narnia, despite the Rabadash incident,doesn’t really share them. That will be important in future chapters.

Even in the height of midsummer the mountain road was proneto enveloping fog, and the trees pressed thickly all around like disapprovingsentinels. Hwin and Bree passed the time trading gossip about their respectiveherds and territory negotiations with the centaurs and other grassland Beastsof Narnia. Cor rode silently, seemingly lost in thought. Aravis had nothing tocontribute to the Horses’ conversation and could not think of the right way tobreak into Cor’s reverie, not when they hadn’t spoken properly in so long. Sheheld her tongue until they were through the pass and safely down past thenarrow cliffside path, with the great valley of Narnia spread out before themlike a landscape on silk.

She sat back in the saddle. Hwin took her suggestion andstopped. After a moment, Bree noticed he was walking alone and turned to eyethem questioningly, his nostrils flared to catch any strange scent on the wind.

“We’ve crossed the border,” Aravis said. “Nowthat we’re nominally beyond Archenland’s reach, I want an explanation."

Bree tossed his head. "An explanation of what? Youwanted to run away, Cor wanted to run away, Hwin and I offered to help, andhere we all are in Narnia. What could be simpler?"

Bree is arefreshingly straightforward soul. *wry*

Aravis ground her teeth. "I know why I wanted to leaveArchenland. I know why you and Hwin helped. Cor, on the other hand, has spentthe past two months treading dangerously close to denying me, which, after Iaccepted his courting gift, could well be considered grounds for blood feud. Iknow that you love your father and you wish to be worthy in his eyes,” sheadded directly to Cor. “I know why you were delaying, which is why I waswilling to take the dishonor of breaking the dance on myself. Yet here we are,fleeing Archenland as we once fled Calormen, with an even more uncertain futurebefore us. What changed your mind?"

Context: culturallyspeaking, what Cor did was the equivalent of "it’s not you, it’s me”weaseling out of a betrothal, which is especially insulting after he’d put in afair amount of effort to buy some expensive and not-easily-acquired courting gifts,and by doing so had reinforced Aravis’s sense that he is the only other personin Archenland who shares her cultural background and perspective. Aravis hasevery right to be pissed off at him.

Cor swung his left leg over the saddle and slid to theslanted ground. It was strange to look down on him from Hwin’s back. They hadbeen of a height as children, but he had three inches on her these days, justenough that she found herself tilting her chin when they spoke face to face. Itwas also fitting that he stand lower now, like a supplicant come to herfather’s court to beg her favor. There was no obligation to respond to theoverture of a dance, but Cor had met her, matched her, and then stepped back.

“The king is under the law, for the law is what makeshim king,” Cor said slowly, stepping up the grassy hillside with his eyesraised to catch Aravis’s gaze. “Father said that to me on our first nightin Anvard – do you remember? A king in answerable to his country and hispeople. If he forgets that, he becomes a tyrant. I want to do right byArchenland. I wanted to make people see that you’re the best thing in my life,that you could never be a weakness. I wanted to obey the law, to work with theGreat Council rather than against it, and make Father proud."

Hwin shivered and took a nervous step sideways. Aravisloosened the grip of her legs and held herself straight and strong under Cor’searnest gaze. "What changed your mind?” she repeated.

“The law in Archenland isn’t the same as the law inCalormen,” Cor said. “It’s about personal honor as much as rules,just like debt and testimony – did you know that? What am I saying; of courseyou knew that. I should have known it, if I’d been thinking. The law is apromise between the people and the king.” He shrugged, a slightself-deprecating gesture. “How could anyone trust me to keep that promiseif I broke a more important one to you?"

Cor’s reasoning hereis one of the major keys to the story. He is trying to balance two cultures,and realized he’d been swinging back and forth in response to each newstimulus, but really he needs to find his own synthesis and stand there.

Or in slightly moreconcrete terms: when he accepted Aravis’s Calormene-style flirtation and madeher a Calormene proposal, he acted as if he were still in Calormen (whereAravis’s choice would have mattered a lot since she’s the daughter of a HighLord, and his would have been secondary at best since he was somewhere betweena peasant and a slave).

Then he realized thatfrom an Archen perspective, he’d just made a huge decision of state withoutconsulting anyone, and that’s bad. (Slippery slope to tyranny.) Obviously theArchens have a bee in their collective bonnet about Calormen, because Aravis isobjectively a pretty good marriage prospect – she doesn’t have an inheritanceanymore, but she’s noble-born and grew up with court politics and such and cantherefore shore up Cor’s weak points, not to mention she and Cor are absolutelyunrelated which matters in the mountain kingdoms (I think their nobles are all cousinsof some sort at this point in history).

But then Cor realizedthat Archen law is based on personal honor as much as an impersonal set ofrules, and if he broke his engagement to Aravis, he’d be breaking his honor andtherefore creating a hypocrisy at the heart of his kingship. (Plus he reallydoes think Archen prejudice against Calormen is wrong and wrong-headed.) So hefound the place where he said, "This is my line in the sand,” andrefused to be moved any farther.

If Archenland won’thave him as he is, then they can’t have him at all.

Aravis swung her leg over Hwin’s back and slid to the grassyearth. Cor stepped forward and took her hands.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

“We have two witnesses,” Aravis said rather thananswer directly. “Do you have objections?"

Aravis understandsall the stuff I blathered about a couple paragraphs ago. She’s also bothCalormene (indirect verbal responses) and a fan of direct action, so herresponse is not to answer Cor’s question but to SHOW him the answer byessentially saying, "I not only forgive you, I want to make absolutelyclear that I stand with you, so let’s get married right here and now, and do itthe Calormene way to make an extra point.”

For a moment Cor looked like the baffled boy she’d firstgrown to know on their journey. Then comprehension kindled a slow fire behindhis eyes, and his fingers tightened around hers. “Bree, Hwin,” hesaid, “will you stand witness to our marriage and attest its truth beforeany court?"

Bree looked utterly confused, but he nodded his head. "Yes,of course, but don’t you need, oh, a dress, and some papers to sign, and anotherperson to say a bunch of nonsense to make it official? Possibly something withribbons or a fire?"

The implication ofthe ribbons and fire, btw, is that northern marriages are not church weddingsas we know them; rather, they involve handfasting (tying ribbons around joinedhands) or jumping over a fire while holding hands. There’s probably also avariant where you jump over a broomstick, or just something to do with crossinga threshold, or crossing under an arch of flowering branches. Transitions andbinding, that sort of thing.

"That’s only if they want to be grand,” Hwin saidfrom behind Aravis’s shoulder. “I saw humans do this in Calormen. All theyneed is themselves and a pair of friends to swear they said the words beforethey got down to mating."

Horses, Aravis reflected, had a very earthy way of seeingthe world. She caught a blush rising in Cor’s cheeks and was grateful yet againthat her own slight embarrassment was not equally visible to him. "Wellthen,” she said, threading a note of challenge into her voice. “Willyou keep your promise?"

Cor raised their joined hands to heart-height and said,"In the name of Soolyeh, I take you for my wife. May our marriage bewarm.” He stared into Aravis’s eyes, the slant of the hill putting themexactly on a level.

Aravis held his gaze. “So may it be. In the name ofGarshomon, I take you for my husband. May our marriage be fruitful."

The words were familiar. Aravis had heard them many times,for her father had been prone to grant the request of his slaves and thepeasants on his estate that he stand as their witness and thus bring greaterdignity to their unions. She had heard them again when Ilroozeh Tarkheena hadmarried her father, for though the trappings of the wedding might be grandbeyond belief, the rite itself was always the same. And she had been made toembroider them and paint them in calligraphy lessons as she grew to be ofmarriageable age, for no Tarkaan wished his daughter to embarrass him when sheleft his protection to join her new husband’s household.

But this was a piece of Calormen, not of the north. To hearthese words, to speak the names of Calormene gods in the land of the Lionhimself, was vertiginously strange.

Which is funnybecause Narnia is full of non-Christian gods and quasi-religious figures:Bacchus, Silenus, Pomona, all the various nature spirits, even FatherChristmas. And yet, it’s also a feeling I got while writing this, a sort ofnagging, "But is this really appropriate?”

And that’s how I knewit was important to include this. Because religious pluralism is never inappropriate. (If Lewis just rolledover in his grave? GOOD.)

“So may it be,” Cor said, his voice wavering as ifhe shared Aravis’s feeling of displacement. “In the name of your father, Itake you for my wife. May our marriage be honorable."

Kidrash Tarkaan would approve of Cor, Aravis thought. "Somay it be. In the name of your mother” – whom she had never met, but KingLune had loved and respected her and therefore Aravis could but assume QueenElwen had been as bright and honorable as her sons – “I take you for myhusband. May our marriage be true."

Someday I am going toget Queen Elwen textually into a story. Or else!

"So may it be,” Cor said, and then paused, lettingsilence seep into the sunlit afternoon instead of continuing the last set ofpromises.

“Is that it?” Bree asked. “Pretty enough, Isuppose, if you like that sort of thing. Only, don’t Calormene rituals go inthrees?"

"They do,” Aravis said, knowing exactly why Corwas hesitating. She squeezed his hands, her sword calluses rubbing against his,and switched the lead. “In the name of Aslan, I take you for my husband. Mayour marriage be strong."

She should have said Tash, but while she would alwaysrespect the god of war and vengeance, she had lost his favor when she gaveallegiance to the lands of his enemies. Even if she had still held him as theking of all gods, it would feel wrong to swear by his power in Narnia, and theLion was equally strong and fierce, his power more than enough to hold as asupport. Aravis had taken Aslan for her liege in the wars of heaven and so shewould make her future in his name. She would marry Cor by the ways of Calormen,but they belonged to Archenland too, now. It was fitting that she acknowledgethat heritage in her vows.

And here again wehave the theme of finding a personal synthesis or balance point between twocultures.

Cor blinked, and then smiled, a small, private curl of hislips just for her. "So may it be,” he said. “In the names of all the gods, I take you for my wife. Mayour marriage be forever.” He raised their joined hands, sliding hisfingers around to turn her hands palms upward, and kissed the soft inner skinof Aravis’s wrists: a feather-brush of skin on skin, his breath to the pulse ofher blood. His beard tickled across her open palms as he looked up into hereyes.

I find beards hot,okay? There is no deeper motivation here.

Aravis swallowed. “So may it be,” she said.

She pulled; Cor came willingly. She met his breath with herown.

Which is a veryroundabout way of saying, “they kissed,” but I dunno, this phrasingfeels a lot more emotionally and erotically charged to me.

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The post-chapternotes are as follows:

Cor and Aravis use a tweaked version of the Calormenemarriage ritual. The traditional version goes like this:

Man: In the name of Soolyeh, I take you for mywife. May our marriage be warm.Woman: So may it be. In the name of Garshomon, I take you for myhusband. May our marriage be fruitful.Man: So may it be. In the name of your father, I take you for mywife. May our marriage be honorable.Woman: So may it be. In the name of your mother, I take you for myhusband. May our marriage be true.Man: So may it be. In the name of Achadith, I take you for my wife.May our marriage be strong.Woman: So may it be. In the name of Tash, I take you for myhusband. May our marriage be forever.Man: So may it be.

And then they are married. The traditional divorce ceremonygoes approximately the same way. Either the woman or the man can end themarriage at any time by saying, “In the name of Nazreen, I divorce you. Inthe name of Nur, I divorce you. In the name of Azaroth, I divorce you” –again, three times makes it true. It’s not done lightly, since the person whoinstigates a divorce may start a blood feud with that action, but it’s stillpretty simple and egalitarian.

I guess this would bewhere I explain some stuff about my Calormene pantheon? Okay. There are ninedeities: four goddesses, four gods, and Azaroth who is usually male but thereare some people who say otherwise. (Azaroth’s domain is death. Boundaries getfuzzy there.) The official mythology and theology are those promoted by Tashbaan,but there are hundreds of regional variants.

Generally, Soolyeh isthe goddess of the sun, of marriage, and fertility/agriculture. Garshomon, thegod of rivers, earth, and agriculture, is her husband. (Soolyeh’s symbol is asun-disk; Garshomon’s is a bull. A sun-disk surmounted by bull horns isfrequently used on their shared temples and as a marriage blessing.

Tash is the god ofwar and vengeance and generally regarded as king of heaven. Achadith, thegoddess of change, of victory, and of things out of place, is generallyconsidered to be both the queen of heaven and Tash’s wife.

So the marriageceremony calls upon the deities most associated with marriage, as a generalblessing and also an indirect request for children; calls upon theparticipants’ own families as a reminder that marriage is ultimately a socialinstitution; and calls upon the two most powerful deities to sort of tie themarriage into the legal fabric of the Calormene Empire and also remind theparticipants that there are consequences for breaking their vows. (Neither Tashnor Achadith is a comfortable sort ofdeity.)

The divorce ceremonycalls upon Nazreen (goddess of wisdom, memory, regret, and liminal periods),Nur (god of education/educated professionals, disease, and medicine), andAzaroth (god of silence, darkness, and death). Nazreen and Nur are also said tobe married, but their domains are more shadowy and associated with endings.

Sokda and Zardeenah,the remaining two deities, have nothing to do with either marriage or divorce.

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And that is pretty much that. :)

#asks and answers #in conversation with the internet #memes and stuff #chronicles of narnia #the courting dance #liz is thinky #liz talks about writing #bluejayfic

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