#they brought me so much joy this last quarter of a year

[eletainart]

And another Happy Holidays ghoodle for you, ghesties Copia and his rats over here

[phatcatphergus]

I have to say, I am genuinely so proud of Tubbo and everything he’s done with my whole heart.

It’s been absolutely amazing watching him grow as a creator and a person. Even though this subathon isn’t over, I can’t help but be in awe of what he’s created and done so far. Every single show event and planned activity has been amazing to watch, and you can feel the passion that comes from them. Even beyond the shows, every single stream you can feel the passion and love that Tubbo has for streaming and his community. 

Even when he’s just coming in to chat or hang out with us, you can feel the care and drive he has for streaming in his community.  every single event has been more amazing than the last, the way he improves and fine-tunes every stream feels like it can’t get any better until the next one airs and is even better then the last. He never stops, pushing the bounds of what can be accomplished through streaming. Every single show blows me away and every idea he spitballs to us makes me even more in awe at what he can accomplish.

Watching both him, and his career grow has genuinely brought me so much joy and amazement. I believe every single one of his friends when they talk about how amazing and kind he is in real life. Someone so passionate to make the best for people he doesn’t even know, can only be a generous and kind soul in his every day life. He gives and gives and gives and rarely ever takes. I am genuinely in awe at how humble and compassionate he always is to everyone he meets, even if it’s a fan who he meets for 3 seconds on the street. Even beyond his personal relationships, he’s always giving back to his community and those in need. From raising A quarter of one million from his technodad stream to donating his entire revenue for a week for Gaza aid, he will always use his platform to uplift and help those who need it.

He’s accomplished so much in just a few years of streaming, and I am genuinely proud to call him my streamer.

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 15

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 6.8k

Content: references to self-harm, description of self-harm scars, some chat about self-harm; oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, protected sex

A/N: I said I'd make it clear, so let's do that: IT'S THE END! THE FINAL ONE!! THE LAST CHAPTER! IT'S DONE!!! IT'S FINISHED!!! NO MORE!!! NO MAS!!!! FINIT!!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!! 끝!!!!

I was so relieved to finish this yesterday and thought I would be glad more than anything to post this and finally (FINALLY!!!) bring the series to a close, but I honestly do also feel kind of sad it's over. We've been together over a year now, these characters and me; I've been actually writing them for a year but they first popped into my head 18 months ago. And now we're at the end.

Huge thank you to everyone who has beta'd for me, inc. for this chapter @quarter-life-crisis2 and @here2bbtstrash, @minttangerines, @blog-name-idk, and Amethyst

Thank you to everyone who has left comments and come along on this journey with me; it has meant SO much to me to have your investment in and enthusiasm for this story. It has made it so rewarding to tell and I hope you like their ending.

Without further ado...

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Chapter Fifteen - Spring

Chapter Fifteen - Spring 

You rested your head gently against the window, watching the people come and go. The cherry blossoms had fallen already, gathered in gutters and collected in corners. You were always sad to see them go, but this year, you felt like they had given you something. Summer, of course, as always: the heat, the sun, the long days, the blessed relief of an ice-cold drink and even colder air-conditioning. This year, the cherry blossoms had brought you something else. Truly like confetti, they had blown around you, whirled around you, celebrating your first week of From Now On.  

You didn’t say that you were getting ahead of yourself. Not this time. Because you weren’t that anxious about it, as much as that surprised you. You had all the anticipation of your first day at school with none of the nerves. The cherry blossoms had gone but they hadn’t left a hole; you couldn’t feel their absence because your life felt abundant. Last year, when you had watched them bloom and fall and fade away, you had been empty. All the joy they usually brought you couldn’t touch the sides of your despair. It hurt more to see them ushering in spring when you felt stranded alone in winter. But now you weren’t alone. Not even close. 

It was a fairly mild day, just the cool side of hot, and still. You had been impatient and got ready early, hence the sitting and staring. Yoongi wasn’t due for another five minutes, but you’d been there for twenty already. You imagined you might see him on his approach to your building and get to observe him, unnoticed. You wondered what he was doing right now – driving? In a taxi? On the subway? Was he already on his feet, close to you? Was he nervous? You thought he would be. His shyness recently reminded you of when you first met, those tentative overtures of friendship, the thrill you felt when he opened himself up to you. 

It was not unlike the thrill you felt now, waiting for him to pick you up for your very first date.  

When he was due in no less than two minutes, you stood and moved to your mirror. You had, initially, planned to wear something that you considered sexier – that is to say, more form-fitting, a little more scandalous, a dress that showed off a little more of what your mother gave you – and then you changed your mind. You didn’t need to do that, because Yoongi already knew. He had already seen what lay beneath and it was all for him now anyway. So you dressed a little more comfortably, in a dress with a little more give, a little more fabric and flounce. You looked cute; you wanted Yoongi to think you looked cute.  

Then, as you always did, you heard his footsteps. 

“Babe!” you cried, leaning out of your door to see him coming from the end of the corridor.  

But you almost didn’t manage to say anything at all because, whilst you had expected Yoongi, you hadn’t expected Yoongi in a suit, holding flowers. It stopped you short; you had been about to run out to him, jump into his arms, do something silly. Instead, you were flustered, grinning at him from your doorway, your heart going like the clappers and your blood roaring in your ears because god-fucking-damn, had he always been that handsome? 

“No!” he called back. “Go back inside! What are you doing?” 

What were you doing? Short-circuiting, a little. His hair was still long and you imagined it twisted between your fingers, soft and pullable; he was smiling, even as he scolded you, all his little teeth on display. You had always liked a man in a suit – you must have said it a thousand times – but you had not been prepared for how much you liked this man in a suit. You were going to have to get some kind of grip if you were going to make it through dinner.  

“I’m saying hello!” you called back, a little too loudly now that he was closer. “I was going to run out to meet you!” 

“Get back inside! I’m supposed to be picking you up! I need to knock on your door!” 

Truthfully, Yoongi would have loved to have you run out of your apartment and into his arms, even if he’d tumbled, you’d stumbled, you’d both fallen to the floor in a bumped, bruised heap. He’d have loved to have thrown all caution to the wind and run away with you. But all of that was still overwhelming, far too much good for a boy who still thought he was bad, and there was a process to be followed, procedure. He was clinging to that. Like a life raft.  

Yoongi had practised. In as much as you can practise speaking to a friend without actually speaking to them. He had forgotten, in all his anxiety about dating you, about being with you, being seen by you, that you were his friend. He’d had these feelings for you from the very beginning and they had never paralysed him like he felt they were now. He knew sex was not the (only) answer, that sooner or later, he was going to have to remember how to act around you. So he called each of his friends in turn to hang out with them, to remind himself, firstly, that he had them, that he was likable; secondly, that he enjoyed their company—he enjoyed company in general, more than he would ever let on; thirdly, that he could be good company: he got a laugh out of every one of them. That had to count for something.  

And he bought you flowers. Because they would provide a good distraction in case all of these remembrances fell out of his head the second he saw you. And because he wanted to, because that’s what you should do when you take someone out on a date. He knew you liked tulips and it was tulip season. It felt right. And it released a little of his impulse to shower you with things, to buy things for you and haemorrhage cash to make him seem worth it.  

For the longest time, money had been all he had. He had laughed out loud in his therapist’s office when he said that because, for the longest time, money was all he didn’t have. The not-having of money was the very thing that defined his life and set him on this path; it was the bedrock beneath the biggest of his life’s decisions. And then it became all he had. All he had to offer. He was still learning that maybe there were other things, too. 

You did as you were told and shut the door, palms pressed against it as you listened to your heart and tried to make it slow. Then you waited six seconds until you heard his first knock. 

“Oh my god, hi!” you exclaimed. “I had no idea you were here!” 

Yoongi pretended he wasn’t grinning and shot you a look. 

“Shut up,” he replied. “I bought you these.” 

Tulips. Your favourite flower. You didn't remember ever telling Yoongi that, but maybe he just knew. They were another reason that April was your favourite time of year. Seoul Forest was full of them, hundreds, thousands of them blanketing the banks. There was a rainbow of colour in every direction; tall heads on sturdy stems barely touched by breezes, swaying like a choir. It was like a pilgrimage; you went every year. Maybe this year, you would take Yoongi.   

“They’re beautiful, thank you.” 

You took them from him, not bothering to try to restrain your smile from splitting your face in half, and leant in to kiss him. Then you stopped. 

“Are we allowed to kiss?” you asked, one inch from his face. Then you moved away and started looking in cupboards for a vase you weren’t sure you owned.  

Yoongi looked confused.  

“Y’know, kissing on a first date?” 

He still looked confused. Then you remembered. You laughed. 

“Oh, of course, that’s right. You’re Mr Fucks on a First Date, aren’t you?” 

You expected him to be surprised; you hoped he would be a little flustered, hoped you would get to see that pink creep onto his cheeks in a way that was just too cute. Instead, he grinned and you felt your own cheeks heat. 

“Is that a promise?” he asked and your stomach swooped.  

You had found a vase, tipped flower food into it, and were gently arranging the stems. You abandoned them in favour of moving closer him, then a little closer, slowly closer, until your lips were almost on his.  

“Cheeky,” you muttered, eyes flicking down to his lips, amaranth pink and just a little pouty. You bit your own. 

Yoongi hummed. 

“So is that a yes?” 

“Only if you play your cards right.” 

You dragged your eyes up and slowly pressed a kiss to his mouth. His hands settled on your hips and you couldn’t stop yours from reaching up, tangling one in his hair, using the other to rake through the dark locks you hoped he never cut. It wasn’t exactly the kind of grip you needed to get, but every atom of your body was asking for more. It was intoxicating to be kissed by him. 

It was Yoongi who broke from you (you did not have the same level of restraint), his mouth lifting in a grin as he nodded his head slightly towards the counter, where your tulips stood in their vase. 

“Did I mention I got you flowers?” 

“You might need to tell me one more time.” 

You weren’t nervous. Not at all. On the one hand, you felt like you should be, because it was Yoongi and this felt enormous. When you stood back and looked at it, it was huge. He was one of your two (2) friends in this world and you were ruining your friendship good and proper. You could still remember the sharp-toothed despair that wound around you like a strait-jacket after what happened with Sungbin; you remembered the suffocating heartbreak of San leaving you. You knew that it could happen here. There wasn’t a guarantee that Yoongi was The One, that you were The One for Yoongi. It should have scared you.  

But it didn’t. It was too hard to be anxious sitting across from him at dinner, as if you hadn’t sat and done this very thing with him dozens of times before. It was impossible to worry about whether or not he liked you when he looked at you like that, when he smiled in that way that you had always suspected was just for you. You knew he liked you because he was here. He had asked for this date and bought you flowers and he was laughing and teasing and being exactly the person you knew him to be. That didn’t make you nervous.  

Yoongi had picked the restaurant carefully. Not too fancy, not too quiet, not too busy, not too empty, not too casual. He had spent a great many hours trawling the internet for reviews and photos and listings. He wasn’t usually this obsessive, but so much about it all had felt out of his control and this was in it. So he was going to get it right. 

Sitting across from you, he knew he needn’t have bothered. Because he knew you didn’t really care. He wasn’t even sure, sometimes, if you knew what you were eating, because you barely stopped talking to shove it in. You spoke around the food in your mouth and whirled your chopsticks around as you gestured. You picked things off his plate and dropped pieces of your own food onto it. You had this way of creating a world around yourself, such that he forgot where he was; he forgot there was anyone else around, anything else to think about. And he realised he could have taken you anywhere and it would have been just exactly this good. Because it was you. 

“Do you want to go for a drink or something? I looked up a couple of bars not far from here,” Yoongi said as he led you, your hand in his, from the restaurant. 

You leant up against him, shook your head and pouted. 

“No?” 

You shook your head again. 

“Ice-cream?” 

Not that either. 

“Ok... Do you want to go home?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Yoongi seemed surprised and you saw his eyes dim and realised—too slowly, clumsily for too much wine—that you had not exactly said what you meant. 

“I want to go home with you, please,” you clarified, still pouting up at him. 

“Oh.” 

It took Yoongi a couple of seconds to recalibrate, then he smiled down at you with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Miss Fucks on a First Date, is it?” 

You punched him playfully in the arm and he didn’t bother to act like it hurt.  

“Do you want a drink?” Yoongi offered as you slipped off your shoes inside his apartment. 

You shrugged. You would have one if he wanted, but you didn’t need one. You felt lush and warm and relaxed enough already. And truthfully, you were at home now, in the privacy of his apartment; you didn’t want to waste a minute with your mouth on anything that wasn’t him. 

You kissed him, soft at first, because you did want to fuck on your first date, but you weren’t an animal; you had some patience. Or, that’s what you thought as you pressed your lips against his, but the thought washed away like writing on the sand as soon as you tasted him. All your impatience, all your greed, all your excitement came rushing forward, into the fray, a tsunami of feeling, all good, all for him, all surging through you like a stampede. 

“I never,” you started, interrupting yourself with another kiss, one more. “I never want to stop kissing you.”  

“Then don’t.” 

You moaned into his mouth and pressed your body against his, suddenly too warm, hot, the fabric of your dress burning where it brushed your skin. You pushed Yoongi’s jacket off his shoulders and pulled at the knot of his tie. He laughed against your lips and pulled back. 

“You know you’re just making it tighter?” 

You whined and let him take over, deftly undoing the damage you’d done and loosening it properly, pulling it through the collar of his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You thought that was quite long enough to not be kissing, to not be held so tight against him, you could practically feel his heartbeat in your chest, but he held you back.  

When he started walking away from you, you rushed after him, grabbing his hand as he opened his bedroom door. 

“Cherry?” he called softly, padding over to the bed, where she was curled up on the pillow. “You have to get the fuck out of here, ok?”  

She ‘mrowed’ at him and rolled onto her back, exposing her exquisitely soft underbelly for strokes, purring when Yoongi put his hand on her. You thought to yourself that you would quite like to be the one purring under his touch, but had to accept that being jealous of a cat was insane, even for you.  

“Come on,” he said encouragingly, lifting her up and walking away from you yet again, taking her out to the living room and placing her on the sofa.  

“You mean you don’t even give her a free show?” you asked when he returned to the bedroom. 

Yoongi’s face flattened and he looked at you, pretending not to be amused.  

“Would you like to fuck in front of my cat?” 

You jumped up and skipped over to him with a giggle. 

“No, thank you!”  

You wrapped your arms around his neck and wasted no time reconnecting your mouths. Yoongi, now the cat was out of the room and the door firmly shut, seemed as impatient as you were, his hands sliding under the skirt of your dress and up, slipping beneath your underwear and squeezing at your backside. His mouth moved to your jaw and then your neck, sucking soft kisses into your skin, holding you firmly close to him. 

You were impatient because you wanted more, more, and even more of him and you wanted it now. But you also wanted each moment to last. Every time his lips met your skin, they felt softer; every time his tongue rolled over yours, he tasted sweeter; every time his hands squeezed, you felt your heart race a little faster. You wanted him immediately and you also wanted it to last forever. You couldn’t get enough of him. 

He moved his hands upwards, outside your dress, and made light work of the buttons at the back that had honestly taken you forever to do up by yourself. You hummed. 

“You’re good at that.” 

“Hm?” 

“Good with your fingers.” 

He chuckled and flicked you lightly with one hand whilst his other freed a button from its clasp.  

“Is that right?” 

“Shut up, you know what I meant.” 

“I know exactly what you meant.”  

You shivered, even in the warm room, in the bright light of the sun streaming in through the window, when he pulled your dress off and you let it pool on the floor. You didn’t have time to be self-conscious, even if you might have otherwise, because Yoongi was on you, pushing you towards the bed until you were flat on your back, his mouth exploring your body as if he’d forgotten every inch of it in the last week. He hooked his fingers around your underwear and tugged down; you shuffled in response, lifting your hips and wriggling out of it in a way that was less than dignified, and less than efficient, but you didn’t want Yoongi to move off you, didn’t want to sit and then stand so you could do the job properly.  

Naked, again, beneath Yoongi, fully-clothed, you held tight to his shirt collar and hoped he would let you know what he wanted. You wanted to let him lead. 

And lead he did. He pulled one of your hands to his shirt buttons and you experimentally popped one open. He led your hand to the next one. You worked your way to the bottom, pulling the ends from his trousers, kissing him: his cheek, his jaw, his neck. He wouldn’t look at you and you could see the red on his ears; if you pressed your hand against his chest, you could feel the thump of his heart like a hammer.  

“Baby,” you whispered as you slowly slid your hands under his shirt, his body warm against them, soft, not smooth.  

He gave no reply and you nudged him gently with your nose. 

“Baby, look at me.”  

It took seconds that felt like minutes before his eyes met yours. They were guarded, unsure, a little bit afraid. You kissed his lips and smiled. 

“We can stop here,” you reminded him but he shook his head.  

“Go on.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He nodded but his eyes were elsewhere again.  

You pushed your hands along his chest, around his shoulders, forcing the shirt to fall to the bed. You let your hands see him first, your lips still employed on his neck. He was soft and warm and the dip of his spine slightly damp with sweat. You felt them before you saw them, laddering down his arms, criss-crossing his chest, a handful near his hip that were rough and scabbed, still healing.  

It hadn’t occurred to you until that moment that you had never seen Yoongi in a T-shirt. That he always wore long sleeves. You hadn’t noticed. Now you knew why. 

Yoongi’s face was pink now, a little pained, uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Yoongi wanted to burst into flames and drown himself both at once. He didn’t dare open his eyes because he knew he’d not be able to see for tears. He was holding his breath, waiting for something he desperately didn’t want to happen, even though it always had. The shock, the disgust, the reluctance, the holding at arm’s length. 

You took his hand and kissed his palm, kissed the single, thick, raised scar on his wrist and all the smaller ones that followed. You turned him around, guiding him gently so he lay against the headboard, so you could kiss him all over, each and every one of them.  

“Babe,” you called to him, crawling up his body until you hovered over him, resting on your hands.  

Then you lowered yourself on top of him, skin to skin, and stroked through his hair. 

“Hey,” you tried again and Yoongi nodded slightly. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

“Are you ok?” 

He nodded again.  

“Gonna look at me and say that?”  

When he looked at you, it was a Yoongi you had never seen before. Shy and defeated and embarrassed and sad and there was something hurt in his eyes that almost made you angry – because no one was allowed to hurt him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.  

You kissed him once and then again and he cleared his throat lightly. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yoongi...” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Do you want to stop?” 

“No.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Some of the hesitation in his face left him then and he looked at you. 

“Have you changed your mind?”  

It was a little defensive, the barest hint of a challenge in his voice. 

“No,” you answered. “Why would I have changed my mind?”  

He looked away again, not answering, though you didn’t need him to. You both knew. But that would never have changed your mind. He could have been covered in slime or secretly a lizard-person and you’d have been just as soft for him as you were now.  

Though you were glad that he was neither.   

“It doesn’t bother me,” you continued. “Well, it does--” You noticed the clench of his jaw-- “because I know what it takes to do it...” You traced your finger lightly over the scars on his arm. “I know exactly how it feels and I hate that you know, too. I wish I could take it all away from you. So that bothers me. Because I don’t ever want you to feel like it’s something you have to do.  

“But-” you pushed yourself up a little, sitting on his lap and pressing your hands to his chest- “actually, also, they’re proof you’re still here, y’know?” Your hand circled his wrist and you pressed your thumb against the worst scar there. “You might not have been. Any one of these could have been the last one, right? But they weren’t. It’s like... every time you do it, it’s a little bit of effort towards staying alive because there’s something worse you could do but you’re not doing that. So it’s proof. Proof that you’re here and trying and you’ve been trying and I, for one, am very glad you are still here. More than glad.” 

He didn’t reply. You shrugged. 

“And you’ve seen mine. My body is not exactly unscathed.”  

“There’s nothing wrong with your body.” His voice was stronger, more like his own. 

“And there’s nothing wrong with yours.” 

Yoongi had to get out from underneath you, had to stop you looking at him, at least for a moment. He knew that it had to happen, that you had to know, but this was too much. Too much of what he didn’t want and not enough of what he did. He didn’t want to talk about it or think about it. His chest was tight and he felt unsteady and he so badly just wanted to get back to you: you, naked in this bed, with him. 

He sat up and his arms came around you and you relished the feeling of your skin on his, nothing but warmth between you. He kissed you, insistent this time, impatient again. He wanted you on his tongue, in his hands, enveloping him. He wanted to serve himself up on a plate for you, kneel and kiss your feet; he wanted to lose himself completely in the sound of you coming undone.  

You shuffled off him and fumbled at his belt, at his zip, pushing them to the floor. You barely noticed the skin there, that was really more scar than skin; you didn’t see the light lines and the dark ones, crossing and re-crossing, thickening, fading, all over. Because it didn’t matter to you. That he wasn’t fresh out of the box, perfect and unblemished. No one was. And you shared a pain; the pain that led to these blemishes, these marks, these scars, it was yours, too.  

So you didn’t see them as they were un-covered, as he stepped out of his clothes, as you took his cock in your hand. Hot and heavy, you pumped slowly, but Yoongi had other ideas.  

He lay you on the bed and spread your thighs, trailing kisses up one side and down the other. You shivered when his hot breath hit your core and again when his mouth met your lips, his tongue licking through your folds. The pleasure felt brand new as he drank you in and you felt the exact right amount of drunk.  

If you’d been sober, this would have been too quick; you’d have been too easy, too alert. It would all have been over too soon. But the alcohol blurred the edges, dulled your senses just enough to allow you to luxuriate in it: the soft, wet pad of his tongue brushing over your clit, then hard as it pushed inside you; the press of his kiss-plump lips, their seal as he sucked at your swollen bud. Like swimming through champagne, everything was fizzing and golden.  

The sun hit Yoongi’s head, so bright it made his black hair brown and it shone. You tangled a fist in it, pulling his mouth closer, tipping your hips and he flicked his eyes towards you. They were deep and glazed and only half-open, his tongue still pressed against you. You whined and rolled your hips, then did it again and he let you rut against his mouth until all your pleasure was coiling tight, down into a heavy ball in your core.  

Then he pulled back and shifted his weight, lifting a hand from your hip. 

“Good with my fingers, right?” he said, a lopsided grin on his face, mouth sticky and shining.  

“Y-e...eess.” 

You answer was punctuated with the slip of those fingers inside you, and your breath hitched by the curling of those fingers, the pressing of them against your front wall. Yoongi lowered himself again and put his mouth back around your clit, the suction hard and sure. You were squirming now, all your muscles tightening, everything drawing down, deep into your core before bursting forward in a wet rush of heat.  

You sighed as your limbs flopped against the mattress and your chest heaved. Yoongi wiped his mouth and knelt back, similarly breathless. He took a hand to his cock and squeezed lightly at the base, hissing slightly as he did.  

You slithered off the bed, to your knees, and tapped Yoongi’s knee, asking him to turn towards you, reaching for him, for his dark, heavy cock, your mouth growing wet at the mere thought of it.  

Yoongi looked hesitant. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. 

You tipped your head to the side and frowned. 

“But... I want to, though?” 

He hesitated a second longer and you thought he was going to say no, but he turned and you did nothing to hide your enthusiasm. You pressed a kiss to the tip and let your tongue lick at the pre-cum dripping from it. Yoongi grunted and you grinned because it had actually been a long time since you’d had this kind of fun. 

It had been a long time for Yoongi, too, since he’d had his dick in anyone’s mouth. He couldn’t even remember the last time. He’d forgotten the heat of it, the softness and strength of a tongue, the looking down at them looking up. It was frankly criminal, he thought, that you could be so cute with a cock in your mouth. It was every bit as good as he might have dreamt, as hot and wet as he might have imagined. You pushed forward and he could feel the back of your throat, see the tears sparkling in your eyes, caught on your lashes. 

He had to stop looking. He tipped his head back and studied the ceiling. He clenched his fists and tried to slow his breathing down because, god, it had been so long and it was you. It was you and you had kissed him all over and you were looking up at him with wet stars in your eyes and your mouth was doing all that to him and he closed his eyes. Then you moaned with the tip of his cock at the very back of your mouth and he almost lost all control. 

He swore, his throat tight, his thighs twitching. He placed a hand on your head and pushed back your hair, tugging ever so slightly to pull you off him. You wiped your mouth and grinned up at him; it was such a sweet, filthy gesture that he almost came again. 

“You ok?” you asked and Yoongi fell to his knees. He answered with a kiss, licking into your mouth, pulling you against him. 

“Yes,” he answered, mumbled against your lips. “Want to fuck you now.” 

“Yes, please.”  

And it was everything you had wanted. Everything you had forgotten sex could be. Yoongi held you close and fucked you slow and you kissed him and caressed him and the world could have fallen apart outside and you would neither have noticed nor cared.  

There was something tearing inside Yoongi and he didn’t know what to do about it. Because you were holding him tight, pulling him so close to you, kissing him and moaning into his mouth and no one had wanted him this close, this soft, this slow for a long time. Ever. He had tried to pace himself before, tried not to rush through it but it was a blur to him now, the frenzy and the nerves and the uncertainty of it all rendering it choppy and indistinct. Whereas this was full high-definition. This, you, the way you touched him and looked at him, the way you said his name... it was like a dream. Like something he never thought he would have. The luxury of your warm body so close to his; the indulgence of your lips against his and your eyes sparkling like you had never seen a sweeter sight than him. That you wanted him. That you wanted him and let him know it. That you wanted all of him, as you ran your hands down his arms, as you squeezed at his chest and pressed your hand against his back, pulling him closer.  

Because it wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just the thrust of Yoongi’s hips, his cock buried deep in your wet cunt; it wasn’t just the slap and slick of damp skin and arousal; it wasn’t just the pleasure you felt in your core expanding outwards, the heat in your blood, and tingling in your toes. It was all-encompassing; it was everything. It was this person who knew you, all the bad bits as well as the good, knew you and saw you and held you like you were precious. It was feeling safe and cherished and valued. It was knowing that your feelings were reflected, returned, reciprocated. It was the sweetness of finding someone who lit you up and being able to light them up the same way.  

When you lay, side by side, spent and sated, you felt like you were glowing. You rolled onto your side, into Yoongi, as he rolled into you and you kissed him again, for the hundredth time or thousandth, it still wasn’t enough. 

You slept soundly, without dreaming, without waking, until the sun was high in the sky again the following morning. You turned onto your back, throwing an arm behind you as you went, expecting it to hit Yoongi next to you.  

But he wasn’t there. You rubbed your face and pushed yourself into a seated position, assuming he was in the bathroom and would return momentarily.  

Then minutes passed and he was nowhere to be seen. You stood and scanned the floor for your underwear. Your dress was already picked up and placed over the back of a chair; Yoongi’s clothes, you could only assume, he had put in the laundry already. Your underwear was not hiding under your dress. You dropped to the floor and onto your hands and knees, to look down under the bed. 

“Aha!” 

“Aha, what?” 

You hit your hand on the bedframe as you quickly pulled it back and span to face Yoongi, standing in the door with an iced coffee in each hand and a paper bag hanging from his wrist. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, bemused but charmed. 

You twirled your knickers on one finger.  

“Thought I’d lost them. They were under the bed.” 

Yoongi merely ‘ah’ed and nodded, placing breakfast on the dressing table and swapping his jeans for light pyjama trousers.  

“Did you bring me coffee?” you asked sweetly, knowing the answer. 

“And pastries.”  

You jumped to your feet and gratefully accepted his offerings, taking a long draw from the straw of a coffee so sweet and milky it might as well not be coffee anymore. 

“Do you know how much sugar is in those, by the way?” 

“Yep! That’s why they’re so delicious!” 

“They’ll kill you.” 

You shrugged. 

“Oh well. I died doing what I loved: drinking sugary coffee.” 

Yoongi chuckled and stepped forward until you were within arm's reach. You could feel his hesitation, so you took it from him, stepping into his body and offering him a kiss.  

“Thank you.”  

“Do you want to get back into bed?” 

You couldn’t imagine anything you wanted more.  

* 

You could hear something out in the hall, something maybe like a cat’s purr, but also not a cat’s purr. Some sort of buzzing, intermittent enough that you told yourself you were imagining it at first. But it just kept coming. 

“Do you hear that?” you interrupted Yoongi to ask and you held your hand up for silence as you listened for it.  

A jarring, quiet kind of noise.  

“Sounds like a phone vibrating,” Yoongi offered.  

“Oh fuck!” 

You scrambled, ungracefully, out of bed, still in just your knickers, and found your phone, buzzing against your keys, half falling out of your bag.  

Taehyung.  

“Hi, baby!” you greeted, overly cheerful because you hadn’t checked the time and you were almost certain he was calling because you were late. 

You had planned to have brunch and a debrief. You had forgotten all about it. 

“When are you coming home? I’m bored.” 

You pulled your phone away from your ear and, upon noting the time, realised that you weren’t late at all. Not even close. 

“What do you want, Teddy? I’m seeing you later.” 

“I know, but I’m bored now and you’re a dirty, little stop-out.” 

“Entertain yourself! I’ll be home when I’m home. I'm not leaving now just because you’re bored.” 

He sighed dramatically at the other end of the line. 

“So I suppose it’s love, then, is it?” 

The word made your heart skip a beat and you didn’t turn around, just in case Yoongi was looking at you.  

“Maybe.” 

“You sicken me.” 

“Fuck off. You’re happy for me.” 

“Yes, I am, babygirl. I’m very happy for you but I’m also very lonely and bored. Can’t you just come home a bit early? Yoongi will still be there tomorrow but I am fading away by the second.” 

“Dying from lack of attention?” 

“Exactly.” 

“I’ll be home when I’m home, Teddybear. Try to make it until then.” 

“Alright, but you’ll be sorry when I'm gone.” 

“Extremely. Now leave me alone!” 

He heaved another dramatic sigh before hanging up and you skipped back to the bedroom. 

“Everything ok?” Yoongi asked as you settled back in his arms. 

“Teddy’s being needy.” 

“Do you need to go?” 

“Absolutely not!” You snuggled in tighter and pressed your lips to his chest. “Not until the very last minute, please.” 

Love. You thought about the word when you left Yoongi’s apartment very late that morning. You wanted to say it then and there, tell him, but it felt like a lot. It felt like your usual Too Muchness coming back. You had only been on one date. It was a lot of pressure to put on a person and you didn’t want to pressure Yoongi. You didn’t want to push him. You didn’t want to take control and careen this fledging thing straight into a ravine.  

It felt natural. It felt easy. It felt like everything you had wanted. It felt so right that it was maddening to you that it had taken you so long to see it. But you also understood that that had to happen. The time it took you to see Yoongi like you did now was time you spent getting things wrong and hurting and healing the wrong way and then the right way and you knew that this, this happiness you had that made you glow, that made your steps feel light, it was a result of that time, that patience. So you didn’t want to rush. Didn't want to push. You would still love him tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that and on and on and on. It could wait. 

* 

Until six days later, when you were sitting on the subway on your way home from work and you snapped. You didn’t want it to wait. You wanted to tell him. And you knew you could. You could say it and he could not and you would survive that. You would understand. And it wouldn’t matter because you knew he was in this, knew he would get there if he wasn’t there already. You chided yourself for waiting at all, because love should never have to wait. Love should be shouted from the rooftops, shouldn’t it? 

So you got off at a different stop and changed lines and you walked as fast as you could to Yoongi’s building and you let yourself in. 

“Babe!” you cried as you hastily kicked off your shoes and rounded the corner into the kitchen, a little out of breath. 

“Are you ok?”  

Yoongi had his apron on, a knife in his hands, vegetables on the chopping board in front of him and it was so sweet, so domestic, a perfect vision of everything you wanted. He was looking at you with concern, as well he might, given you had just burst in, unannounced, in all kinds of a fluster. 

You nodded. 

“Yeah,” you panted. “I just had to tell you. I love you.” You moved closer to him; he put the knife down and wiped his hands on his apron and you held tight to it. “I love you. As in, I am in love with you. I love you so much. And I know, I know, it’s been no time at all and it’s too soon and it’s too quick and you don’t have to say it and I don’t want to put any pressure on but I just want to tell you. I have wanted to tell you and I wasn’t going to because- because all of the above! But I love you and I want you to know that I love you. I’m in love with you, Min Yoongi.”  

He blinked a little and then a bit more. 

“Oh.” 

He sounded surprised and you laughed because you were nervous and because you felt giddy and silly and so in fucking love. You tugged him closer with his apron and kissed him, firmly at first, then softer when he kissed you back and rested his hands on your hips.  

“I love you.” 

He said it quietly, his mouth still close enough to yours that you could feel his lips move with the words. You laughed again and kissed him again and whispered it back to him.  

“I love you.” 

Chapter Fourteen | Masterlist | Bonus Drabble 1

Taglist: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings, @acquiescence804 

[prolix-yuy]

Hello friends! It's been way way way way WAY too long since we chatted, and to be honest I've been taking an embarrassingly long time to write this update post because godDAMN life just gets you sometimes and you go on an impromptu hiatus that gets super messy. So let's get into what's been going on and what to look forward to!

Pedro Tax for this long-ass post.

(We're gonna get into some personal stuff, but if you're just here for what's coming up skip down to WHAT'S NEXT for the tl;dr version)

So beyond work getting hectic from January to March, which was the catalyst for everything getting wacky, I experienced a weird emotional turn that I wasn't expecting. It made me get a little introspective, which I blame some of my productivity slump on.

As I was finishing up the Bangathon entries, I noticed a sharp decline in interaction. I'm a fairly young fic writer on Tumblr, but I was a little baffled as to why stories I'd posted only a week before got a nice bit of interaction yet the newer ones were only getting half to a quarter of what I expected. For a minute I thought I had been shadowbanned (I was not) or I hadn't tagged the posts (I had) or my taglists weren't working (they were). People were already talking about interaction being lower, so I sat back and tried to go with the flow and not let it bother me. I posted Decoherence, which has a more niche audience, but I was definitely missing and wishing for some of the comments and reblogs I thought I might get.

All this led up to one of the least favorite voices in my head saying something that stuck around:

"Well, you were right not to become a writer if your motivation is this closely tied to feedback."

If you're new here or I haven't talked about it much recently, I initially was planning to be a writer. Went to school for it and everything. While I was there I felt like I hadn't found the stories I wanted to tell yet. My colleagues were developing in their niches and writing "the great American novel" and I didn't feel like I fit in. My stories had a lukewarm reception, and I never felt like anyone was excited about anything I was trying to say. So I wrote myself into burnout by the time I graduated with not much to show for it. I ended up doing a career switch, which I love to this day, but I stopped writing for almost 10 years.

Coming to Tumblr, I felt that spark of excitement writing again, and some of that was definitely due to people commenting and being excited or interested in the stories I was sharing. That truly revived something in me I thought was long gone, and reflecting back on the last two years that I've been sharing stories with this community makes me wildly emotional. I didn't know how much I missed of the life I left behind, and how much joy it brought me to share stories again.

Which is why it was SUPREMELY FRUSTRATING to have that shitty little voice pulverize my productivity and excitement over something as silly as interaction. But I'm sure most of you know how hard it is to get that voice out of your head. I worked to write things I found fun and less stressful than the series I already felt bad for not updating. And while I still love those stories, it felt like I was pulling them from an inauthentic place and finishing them wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped.

Thus the hiatus! I stopped writing and turned my attentions to consuming and creating in other ways. I watched some shows I'd been meaning to catch up on, started planning to buy a house, worked my butt off at the day job. And I was starting to feel like inspiration was coming back. I didn't want to spook it so I took my time and promised myself I was going to start small and not stress about getting stories out for a bit.

Top that off with some medical surprises, an upcoming surgery, and a little re-evaluation of life moving forward and things have been wild. But I've been missing the daily joy I get from being part of this fandom, and I'm getting back into being here more because I miss you guys! AND! I have stories I want to share and fun to be had. So let's shake off all the heavy shit and get to the fun stuff!

WHAT'S NEXT!

The big thing I'm getting ready to post (after teasing it for so long) is the 2024 Bangathon! This one is different from last year's because instead of requesting stories from me, the Bangathon is open to anyone who wants to participate! There will be a randomizer to play with, and some fun bonuses for those who participate. The announcement will be coming out soon, stay tuned!

As for fics, here are some updates on what's in my WIPs:

Series:

I Think of You: I spent some time rewatching Mando for the newest installment, and I've finally gotten the thread of where to go next thought out. It's been a long time coming so this one's gonna be BEEFY to make up for it.

SW!Frankie: I am crushed to realize it's been over a year since I posted any SW!Frankie! I've got a new story about him and Ms J moving in together I need to finish, then some more asks that are getting into new story arcs I'm excited to share!

Best Laid Plans: Dieter and Murch's first date is bouncing around in my head and I NEED to get it on paper. There's much fun to be had, and I've been binge listening to my playlist for them to get into the headspace.

Midnight Alley: I got all up in my own head about continuing the story with these two and lost a little steam, so I'm going to ease off my "big plans" and start smaller with some oneshots instead. I think it'll help me find out where I want this story to go.

One Shots in Progress:

Decoherence Follow-Up

Incubus!Dieter Ask

You know, laying it out like that makes it feel much more manageable than my brain was telling me! I'm also planning to prioritize more fic reading while I'm getting these updates in ship-shape. Reading your stories always helps get my creative juices flowing, and there are so many good ones lingering in my TBR list that I need to devour.

This has been a rollercoaster of emotions, so thank you for coming on the ride with me. I'm excited to bring more of myself back to Tumblr and have fun with all of you again! To many more stories!

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Mockingjay, Epilogue)

(my last chapter recap!)

the dancing girl and the boy with chubby toddler legs!!!

i love that katniss doesn't tell us their names. she's already told us so much about her life. but she does tell us they're happy, joyous, well fed, cared for

it's weird to me that people take the "five, ten, fifteen years" line along with "peeta wanted them so badly" to make out like she was forced into this. katniss proved throughout the series that she's not someone who would be forced into something like this and peeta is also not the guy who would pressure katniss like that

my reading of it was that it took that long only because of the trauma of the games and the war. katniss needed enough time to heal to even consider it. i don't read it as him begging her, i read it as them having a series of conversations. and i read it as her knowing that peeta wanted them, even if he held back from saying just how much to her - because he's not the type to say things over and over again. she would've known, by the way he plays with finnick and annie's son, by the way he is with the kids that come into the bakery.

i feel like it was something they probably talked about every few years. but katniss wasn't ready so peeta would leave it alone for another while. but his desire to have children continued to grow and she eventually healed enough to push aside her fears and choose this with him

we know she trusts peeta and this is another instance where she puts her trust in him. "peeta says it will be ok. we have each other" and that's all they need. and that's all she needs to keep going: peeta telling her it's going to be okay

she dreamt in the quarter quell of peeta's future child playing in the meadows, happy and safe and free. and of course she wanted that for him and for herself. and she got her wish!

she clearly wanted children herself because she states that the joy of holding her daughter in her arms for the first time was the thing that tamed her fear about the whole thing. she wanted her toast babies too.

katniss was always caring and maternal. she essentially was prim's mother pre-games. of course she wanted her own children. the only reason she previously stated she didn't want children is because she lived in a world where the games existed and she couldn't have brought a child into that world. but this is different. this is a different world.

i love this ending for them. i love that they are happy and safe and in love and have children. that they have peace together. they deserve it.

[lailoken]

An Amplemas Miracle

May 4th marked our Cardinal Sabbath of Amplemas, and on this holy day, we experienced a small and simple "miracle" that I have since been given leave to share publicly.

In the past, as part of the lead up to Amplemas, we celebrated the traditional Spirit Night of Walpurgis/Beltane/May Day by gathering and decorating a branch of flowering Hawthorn that we brought back to our home. Last year, certain omens moved us both believe that we were meant to establish a "permanent May Bush" of sorts, by harvesting a large "thorn-broom" from the Matron Hawthorn of our land which we could dry and reuse. We did all this, but in the days following, we had multiple omens leading us to believe that we misunderstood and were actually supposed to root a scion of the Matron Hawthorn, which we could then tend on our own property as a living May Bush. This was confirmed for us by a single green bud appearing on the thorn-Broom, over a week after having left it in a warm room to dry with no water or soil. We did everything we could to try and rescue this scion tree, feeling quite worried that our misunderstanding would lead to her death, but amazingly, she managed to survive.

Fast forward to this year, and we were working with the Scion Whitethorn as its own tree for the first time, which was lovely. But then, on the astronomical cross-quarter of Amplemas, she put out her first flower buds. The timing of these first buds was quite beautiful already, but the fact that it is even managing to put out flowers right now is a bit surprising, botanically speaking.

This small treasure gave me so much joy and hope, and I just wanted to share that with all of you.

[bitchyglitterfox]

One Last Dance - Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warning: sadness, love, friends to lovers, death,

Hundreds of eyes in the room but yours found mine

I asked you to dance and by chance our hands intertwined

What lasted for minutes seemed like eternity

I had no clue this one dance would lead you to me

It was one of Stark's infamous parties, you were leaning against a wall idling sipping champagne. Your eyes travel around the room of hundreds when you make eye contact with beautiful pools of sapphire. You smile over your glass. You and Steve had more than friends but never acted upon it---type of relationship. It was all flirting, innuendo and light barely there touches.

Your smiles widens as you see him come closer to you, soon he's standing shoulder to shoulder to you.

"How are you this evening Mr America." You giggle, the effects of the champagne slowly getting to you.

"Well I saw a pretty little thing over here and just wanted to ask if she would care to dance with me" he says, extending his hand out to you.

You place your hand in his as you both head towards the dance floor. You intertwined your hand with his as you sway to the soft song playing. You smile at each other, nothing else matters at this moment; it's just him and you. You both lean in, your lips meeting in a chaste kiss, so much love and wanting. What felt like eternity was only a few moments, you were pulled out of your thoughts when the song changed to an upbeat one.

You smile at one another and keep your hands locked while you begin walking towards the sleeping quarters away from the party.

Hundreds of friends in the room and you're dressed in white

You walk down the aisle and I smile to know that you're mine

We cheers our champagne and wait for our song to begin

The band starts to play and you ask me to dance once again

Steve smiles as he stands at the altar, Bucky and Sam to his left while Wanda and Kate are already there waiting smiling as all of them watch you come down the aisle on Tony's arm. You are in a gorgeous white dress, you found it vintage at the thrift store but you made it your own. All eyes on you but you only see Steve. It's crazy how far the both of you have come since that night four years ago at Tony's party.

"You bring joy to his life, a light has been brought back into his eyes that I haven’t seen since the 40s, so Y/n thank you for bringing that back to him and I wish you both nothing but happiness and luck” Bucky finishes his best man speech as he raises his glass, everyone cheers as they raise their own champagne flutes. As you finish the speeches the band you’ve hired begins to start a song you and Steve dubbed your song, time after time by Cyndi Lauper. You have the times of your lives, friends and family here to show they love and support you. You both couldn’t be happier.

Fifty-nine years have gone by since you said yes

Even now in your hospital bed you still look your best

We might be old but there's still one thing we can do

Put on a song, let's pretend to dance round the room

Fifty-nine years have come and gone since you said yes to his proposal, you’ve watched your children grow up and have seen them have their own children. Not too long ago you were invited to welcome your great grandchildren into the world. Now comes the hard part of life, aging. You had an accident, a little spill you told Steve, just a small fall. However the ever dotting husband took you to the hospital where it was much more than just a simple fall. You give Steve that same smile you gave him that night he finally kissed you at Starks party.

“Come here lover, put on some music and let us pretend that we’re dancing, just like we had at our wedding,”

“You look as beautiful as you did on our wedding day my dear,” he smiles back at you as he places his own aged hand on top of yours. You look at him with such love and he looks back at you as though you had hand picked each star that shines in the sky. For a second it’s as though you’ve gone back in time and are your young selves again.

Thirty-five hours have gone by since your last breath

Memories of dancing with you are all I have left

Just a few seconds before it's my time to go

Hello my god and my love at last I am home

Steve hasn’t left your shared bed since you took your last breath almost a day and a half ago. Your children and grandchildren are in your home helping him with the preparations for your funeral. It hurts too much, sixty-three years of memories flash before his eyes. He can still hear your laugh in his head as he holds your pillow. Fresh tears fall from his cheeks as he see you. His best girl, his Y/n. You have your arms open for him and so he joins you.

“At last I am home,” he smiles as takes his last breaths.

A/n: I'm literally sobbing 😭 like if I took a picture rn yall would see my tear streaked face.

I love this song so much, it reminds me of my own grandparents love story in so many ways.

[gbee-writes]

A Star Shines

Epilogue

---

“Play us a song!”

Kantus stopped in the doorway at the demand. When he turned back around Bratha was sitting up again, which unfortunately meant that the other three were following suit.

An exasperated smile pulled Kantus’s lips. He should have known they wouldn’t let him forget.

“Alright, but you must go to sleep after I play.”

The children were quick to agree to his terms.

After tucking them all back in, Kantus pulled out his violin and made sure it was in tune before pulling the bow across the strings. Music filled the air and warmth flooded his chest as Moa pulled Nich in closer.

He planned on playing one song and returning to the others but Kantus couldn’t bring himself to stop. His children dozed off one by one. It wasn’t until Nalluk was sleeping soundly that he let his hands fall.

“Ye cannae tell’em no when they ask fer it, can ye?” Des slid her arms around his shoulders, resting her head beside his. Her tone was so caring it hurt. She must have slipped into the room sometime during his songs.

Kantus leaned into her. “No, I simply do not have the heart to refuse them. How can I, when they look so sad when I do?”

Des hummed lightly. Together they watched the children sleeping for a quiet moment. Kantus couldn’t help the swell of affection and joy he felt. His chest seemed close to bursting.

“Sometimes I wonder if this is how my mother felt looking upon Jekle and me.”

“I ain’t doubtin it.” Des murmured. “From what I hear she loved ye more than anythin.” As Kantus leaned into her he felt her lips brush his cheek. He turned his head so they could kiss. “Ye head up an get some air ‘fore bed, aye?”

“Yes ma’am.” Kantus gave her another kiss before slipping quietly from the room.

Up on the deck he spotted Yewle at the railing watching the last rays of sunlight fade away. Her hair ruffled in the wind. She didn’t seem to mind the chill it surely brought.

As he approached she glanced over. A warm smile greeted him closer and  Kantus rested his arms on the railing next to her. They stayed in comfortable silence until the sun was hidden in it’s wait till the morning, listening to the waves lapping the side of the ship rhythmically. He could never stop loving that sound.

“Can you believe how much has changed since that day?”

He looked over to her. Yewle almost couldn’t be recognized as the same woman she had been. After all she truly wasn’t. Her gentle features had weather hardened, perfect complexion marred by scars and marks. Most ladies of her standing would have been horrified. Yewle wore the experience as a mark of pride.

But that was only her looks, and her looks very well reflected how she had grown inside as well.

“Do you recall the first dual you were in?” Kantus chuckled.

“Oh goodness Kantus, don’t you dare remind me of that.”

His shoulder shook with the effort of keeping his laughter down. “After only three lessons-”

“I challenged someone; I was swiftly shown my place.” Yewle made a face at him, doing nothing to help the amusement.

“You had the enthusiasm!”

“And the foolhardiness. I truly don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I’m not sure you were.”

Yewle leaned back and crossed her arms. “I thought quite a bit actually, simply not about anything but my fantasies.” After a moment where Kantus couldn’t hold his laughter anymore she rolled her eyes. “Are you done dredging up my past blunders? I have plenty of yours to return the favor if not.”

He chuckled himself into silence. “Oh I’m sure you do. I would love to trade them but I believe it’s time for me to tuck in. Do get some rest soon as well.”

He gave her a friendly pat on her arm before returning to the captain’s quarters. Des was already snoring as he stepped in the room. A warm hum fell from his lips at the sight.

Her arms were hugging a pillow close, her cheek squishing in a deeply charming manner. Kantus found that her rough and earthly beauty was something so deeply alluring, even after all their years together.

There were nights Kantus would lie awake and trace every scar on her face. Each one of them told a story, each one led her to become the woman he had married.

He was quick to changing into his nightclothes. When he climbed into the bed next her Des grunted and with a heaving twist she rolled around to latch onto him instead of the bedding.

She released a deep breath before going back to snoring. Kantus wrapped his arms around her and was quickly drifting off into peaceful slumber.

---

A deep yawn pushed from Jekle’s chest. The candle was nearly down to an unusable stump as he sifted through more papers. He was certain it was beyond a point where he should have been awake, and he hadn’t planned on being up so late, but a few more pages sorted out wouldn’t hurt.

“My darling,” Jekle jolted at the voice. He turned to the door where Ston was waiting. “It’s late.”

He sighed as he turned back to the papers. “I’m nearly finished. I’ll be in bed short-” Ston’s arms wrapped around his waist and caused him to falter.

“It’s late.” The whisper broke his resolve. Jekle gathered the papers in a neat stack before blowing out the candle. All his exhaustion became much more noticeable as Ston led him back to their bedroom.

It was strange to him that the small, homey room was far more comfortable than his room at the manor ever had been. Maybe it was the lack of danger, or the freedom from overostentatious decor, maybe it was the joy of who he had the delight to share it with. Whatever it was Jekle found himself relaxing further there.

He waited until Ston was comfortably laying in bed before crawling in himself and curling to his husband's side. A contented hum spilled from his lips. Ston pulled him somehow closer. "When did they say they would return?"

"Hmm," Jekle slipped his eyes closed. "Less than a fortnight, weather permitting."

"Are you excited? Their children will want to play with us all hours."

A smile pulled up the corner's of Jekle's mouth. He loved his neice and nephews no matter how ragged they ran him. When he had found out that Des was pregnant he had celebrated nearly as much as Kantus and reasured his brother in his worries about fatherhood.

Little Bratha was a wonderful blessing. Kantus was just as doting a father as Jekle had predicted, wrapped around the babe's little finger.

And of course after getting over the momentary surprise at their sudden appearance, Jekle had welcomed the two slave boys they'd saved with wide open arms. He had happily done the same when Nalluk had been brought into Des and his brother's brood. The Star's old crew had quite a time teasing them about inheriting Cabern's children aquirement habbits.

Jekle hummed again. "I am quite excited for their return. I wish to spoil the children rotten before they grow too big for such things."

"They could be ancient and you would still spoil them." Ston countered with a light prod to Jekle's side. He let out a chuckle as he half-heartedly tried to pull away from it.

After Bratha had been born they had decided to speak about whether they wanted children too or not. Both of them decided their niece and nephews was enough, a choice that would have Jekle's father rolling in his grave, he was sure.

If his father was in a grave that is.

Jekle idly wondered if Kantus also questioned how Toun was doing. Perhaps not, given how Kantus was treated far worse than he had been. Lonette also crossed his mind from time to time but he was much less invested in what had happened to her after the failed wedding. She barely spoke with him after all. Not unless she had found a quality to heckle out of him.

"Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"You're thinking of them again, aren't you?" Jekle sighed at the question.

"Yes," He said rather bluntly. "I struggle to help it sometimes. I am aware of their transgressions against Kantus and I but..." Another sigh. "Curiosity is a strong motivator. I often wonder if Father would be proud of me."

Ston placed a kiss to his brow. "I know it is not the same but Cabern is proud of you, as am I, and your brother."

Despite how different that was, hearing it did make Jekle feel slightly better. All those years ago when the new boards on the Star had met Cabern and the rest of the old crew they had been welcomed in as if they had been part of the family since the beginning.

Going from Father's strict upbringing to being gently nurtured by Cabern was...jarring. It wasn't a surprise when Jekle found himself viewing the man as something of another father figure. Kantus had clearly done the same, to a much more prominent degree. He would often refer to Cabern as "Cappa" like all of the retired captain's other children did.

Jekle let out a thoughtful hum. As sleep pulled his mind down he hoped, not for the first time, that Toun had allowed himself to heal and become better.

---

It was such a beautiful evening. Birdsong filled the garden air and a soft breeze rustled the leaves. Toun breathed in the perfumes of the flowers with a smile. It was bittersweet but that was why he loved his walks after tea.

Walking down his normal path was slower than when he first had the garden reverted to the last arrangement Essaira had it in, with his reliance on the cane he had aged into, but that simply meant more time to reflect. Without Lonnette’s constant changes the plants had grown to a beautiful maturity Toun had sorely missed.

He ambled past the great willow tree, one of the few things his now remarried ex-wife hadn’t touched, and seated himself upon the bench he’d had installed. 

“Hello Kantus,” Toun murmured to the figure across from him. It wasn’t truly his son, and that fact made him ache horribly, but the stone statue would simply have to be enough. 

“I’m having a lovely day. My apprentice has taken so well to the tasks, I fear I don’t have much left to teach him. I was unneeded in doing paperwork and as such he insisted I returned home to rest.”

The statue was silent as always. Dappled lighting danced across Kantus’s carved features, drawing the eye to his carefree smile.

The figure curved in a faux turn, swaying to silent music it played from the marble violin held gently in its hands. It was a memory, a glimpse at the last time he had heard his son play. Toun had been quite proud of the artist for capturing Kantus so well.

“I do hope you’ve had a good day as well.” Toun pulled himself back to his feet. As he made to continue his journey he turned back. “Please return home soon. I miss you, I miss your melodies.”

He trailed past a few bushes, a flower bed, and found himself at a fountain. In the center was a decorated column. The relief carved into the rock was of Jekle in a lovers embrace with his servant.

Toun had only learned the young man’s name after he had lost them. An ache grew in his chest. Ston had deserved better. 

He remembered how Jekle had tried to convince him of letting them marry: the way his son described the boy. His eyes had lit up in a way Toun hadn’t seen in years.

The carver had been instructed to have wedding bands showing on their fingers. Perhaps they never got to marry. Toun so very much hoped they had. Jekle had the same love-struck gaze that Toun had proudly wore when he had his Essaira with him.

“I’m so sorry, I should have given you both a chance.” He let out a weary sigh. “If you’ve stayed with each other I pray your lives together went better than mine and your mother’s. I pray you get to grow old together...”

The wind whispered past. What secrets did it hold? Toun would probably never know, but he would listen all the same.

“Sir!” Toun turned to a servant rushing towards him. “You have guests, sir.”

Toun’s brows rose. “I do?”

“Yes sir, they are waiting in the tea room.”

He nodded. Odd that someone would visit. It had become a rare occurrence after being shamed so horridly all those years ago. Not that he held any grudges upon his sons. No, he understood their need to escape quite well.

Further adding to his confusion, the sounds of rowdy children met him at the tea room doors. Who did he know that would bring their children?

As he reached for the handle another voice came through and-

“Bratha please, the drapes will not hold your weight like the rigging.”

Was it? It had to be! The voice held a seasoned undertone it hadn’t before but it was unmistakable!

Toun flung the door open faster than intended, slamming it against the wall. The room went silent. His eyes were graced with Kantus mid-way at pulling a young boy off his curtains, Des sitting at the table with two more young boys, and a young lady seemingly either attempting to help Kantus or distract him.

A cough drew his attention to the second table where Jekle and Ston sipped tea, sitting almost inappropriately too close. Wedding bands glinted on their hands.

Both of his sons had grey peppering in their hair, but only Kantus had a beard. The boy in Kantus’s arms was clearly his own son, sharing his eyes and a birthmark under his right eye. The two boys with Des and the young girl shared her darker skin tone and general features but in a way that made it clear she was not related. They held no visual traits that matched Kantus at all. However, it was clear from the way Des protectively leaned towards them that blood or not, they were considered her children.

Kantus had children. He was a grandfather. Jekle and Ston had been able to marry. Tears blurred Toun’s vision as he processed the sight. A smile pushed through his shock. 

“Boys...” The breathy whisper broke the tension and a warmth he hadn’t felt in decades filled the room. “You’re home.”

First | Previous | Next   Chapter-list   Master-list

---

Please click the art for quality, I didn’t spend the time I did on these for tumblr to do me dirty this way.

@cinnabarmint

@givethispromptatry

[ae-diaries]

2022 in REVIEW

Had this in my drafts for so long. I'm a list-type-of-girl so I listed what God has done in the past year. Para mayroon din naman akong good memories and lessons na babalikbalikan. Now, I finally have the time to post it.

My birth month is already over. It became my favorite tradition to write my year-end reflections but I didn't have time doing this last December to February because I put my focus and energy on my loved ones, constants, and work.

Looking back, 2022 was tough, but I was tougher. It wasn't easy. At least for me. Madami akong iniiyak sa year na ito: my family's health issues, quarter-life crisis, and silent battles. They were too much to handle. Yet in those unbearably hard times, I never give up and lose hope knowing that God was holding the other end of the rope. Indeed, it has always been His grace and the people He used that saved and buoyed me to the surface that I will always be immensely grateful for.

Despite the stormy sea, God has won more victories in my life through and through. Those tough times gave me the opportunity to exercise my tenacity and draw me closer to God.

I LEARNED na may baon pa pala akong lakas kahit feeling ko ubos na ubos na ako, may bigla na lang dumarating na tulong at malasakit kapag feeling mo walang wala ka na at may Diyos na yayakapin ka at hindi ka pababayaan kapag feeling mo hindi mo na kaya.

I REALIZED that uncertainties will come along the way, but one thing is certain - He is always faithful to his promises. And that's what I want to fix my eyes on this 2023: the lens of 3Gs (Gratitude and God's Grace).

Ended the year with inner peace and gratitude.

I could say lahat ng pagsubok na pinagdaanan ko at ng pamilya ko ay may magandang kapalit. Photos (with caption) below wrapped up the higlights of my 2022. #SKL 😜

1. TATAY'S HOSPITALIZATION

(Me in the photo..after humagulhol to surrender Tatay's condition to Jesus...and to his doctors.)

The first quarter was truuuuly a turbulent period for our family. I was drowning in fear because of so many terrifying episodes during my father's hospitalization. And the worst part of it is when the doctors offered immediate intubation for tatay on the night of Feb. 13 because of his decrease in sensorium. At this moment, I exploded in tears as I/we prayed and surrendered his condition to Jesus. But what happened next was a testament of God's miracle: Tatay slowly opened his eyes a few hours before his intubation! Truth be told, you will never know that God is all you need, when God is all you have. Sa panahong hopeless kana, dito mo malalamang may Diyos ka nga pala na kumikilos. You just have to place your full trust and faith in Him. He is way maker, promise keeper and miracle worker. I also met the best and the most compassionate doctors He used as instruments.

It's humbling to say that serving my father is what I considered my biggest achievement in 2022. Nothing else comes close.

It was also in this season that my elder sister and her fam abroad got Covid-19. But then again, they made it through by God's grace.

2. ELYU TRAVEL

In April, a week after my father was discharged, I went on an unexpected solo trip to SFLU out of necessity. I felt God also brought me here to breathe, clear my mind off things, calm my storms, and somehow, reward me for what I'd been through. Dasurv? 😂

3. BABY MEGAN WAS BORN

3. In July 21, my sister gave birth to Baby Megan, my third niece. She's a rainbow baby. A new bundle of joy to our ever growing family.

However, it was also the month where Tatay got Covid-19 and I fell ill, too. My anxiety was kicking in again, but later on I realized, "Kelan ba kami pinabayaan ng Dyos?" He has always been faithful to us. We wouldn't survive this without Him.

4. THE RETURN OF F2F CLASSES

And then come August, the return of F2F classes. I feel blessed to have met a new breed of awesome learners under my care. They have brought context to my world.

5. A MASTER'S DEGREE HOLDER

And I never thought that despite my busyness and clutter at work, I would be able to have my thesis completed and finally received my master's degree at the Philippine Christian University at the same time. One for the books!

6. ALYESSA'S MILESTONE

In the same month, Alyessa, my younger sister, finally started her career abroad. I couldn't be more proud of her milestone. Pautang naman sis. 😂

7. BABY GIA'S CHRISTENING & 1ST BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION

We also celebrated baby Gia's (my second adorable niece) first birthday and christening last September. It was way memorable! (without lockdown and less restrictions, too)

8. ONE OF MY BIGGEST DREAMS WAS GRANTED!

Last October 24, I received an email - this I considered an early xmas gift from God - an answered prayer that I'd been longing to hear! All of my efforts and hardwork were all worth it.

9. A WELL-SPENT FAMILY VACATION

And last December became one of the most memorable Year-End parties we had in our fam. Plus, my eldest sister and her fam had finally spent their Christmas vacation in PH after 13 years. Everything was surreal. ❤️ Grateful is an understatement.

An dami kong drama, nag-bday lang naman ako. 😅

My wish? I didn't have anything in particular because all of the things that I'm experiencing right now are my answered prayers in the past. I put 2023 in Your hands.

#HERYear #Januarygirl #post-bday

[rainydawgradioblog]

my favorite 2024 kilby block party performances

there was a time, around week five of spring quarter, where the chances of attending the greatest alternative music festival in the greater united states felt bleak - the seattle rain loomed, midterm season kicked ass, and gas prices soared in biden’s america. i mentally prepared to let Kilby go for my third year, fully ready to sell my ticket and count my losses. however, it is with extensive gratitude to my 2009 subaru outback and dear friends i can say the yearly pilgrimage back to the promise land of salt lake city utah commenced. kilby block party 2024, you rocked my world. 

it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what vibe kilby was going for this year, with the bands ranging in genre, age, and crowds, but they’re all united under a common purpose of performing good, good music. not a single headliner made my top five best performances this year, but to me this serves as a testament to kilby’s ability to cultivate an unbeatable concert going experience start to finish. so, with long overdue and much enthusiasm, the best kilby block party performances of 2024. 

5. ty seagall 

the ty seagall concert was very reminiscent of the 2023 surf curse crowd as a crowd surfing, mosh pit galore, but the crowd was ten years older and ty seagall diehards. while he’s a more folksy type of artist, he performed rock covers of all of his songs, which seemed to intensify the spirits of the millennial crowd making for quite an entertaining set. overall, definitely a peculiar vibe, but as a shameless participant of the crowd surfing, i have to say this was one of my favorites of the weekend. 

4. slow pulp

My love for slow pulp is simple - i like to hear girls rocking. The lead singer of slow pulp, the midwestern girl of your dreams, opened her set with screaming to the crowd she was on her period and then immediately hitting the first note of Idaho. the menstrual rock vibe she brought added a layer of feminine angs to every one of her songs making it one of my favorite concerts to date. girls rocking on their periods in long dresses is a sight for sore eyes and tender to feel in my last month as a teenage girl. 

3. current joys

i’m not sure what exactly I was expecting the current joys band to look like, but it definitely wasn’t two older men, no offense, rocking old band tees and the guitarist sporting a very tasteful skullet (as in, a mullet where your skull is completely visible). however, after further consideration, i think that’s exactly what you would expect current joys to look like. they played all of their smashing hits and shook the stage with their melancholy rock. the live performance of kids, cliche enough, sparked water works. current joys live felt like hearing the accumulation of your middle school angst in real time.  

2. alvvays

kilby block party 2024 marks my third year in a row seeing alvvays live, yet they astonish me with each passing performance. the band opened with pharmacist, my favorite off of Blue Rev, and played all the way through the album and, as expected, ended the set with archie marry me. the self-proclaimed anti-socialites played with their david bowie-esc synth and lyrics of unrequited love to be my, almost, favorite performance of the weekend. third times the charm, and after a third time we were seasoned pros with the band and decided to camp out for most of the day for barricade seats, so enjoy a much better view than years prior. 

belle and sebastian 

belle and sebastian absolutely takes the cake for the best show of the weekend. being present the belle and sebastian set felt like entering an alternative dimension of an early 2000s twee movie where there was nothing bad left in the world; i’m basically insinuating hearing the entirely of the juno soundtrack live felt like the holy grail of music for me. i was serenaded by the flamboyant scottish performers and their suffocating optimism of the world around them - the band live was a serotonin rush i lived off of for the next fews days. i’m not sure how I expected their performance to end, or why it wouldn’t be with twenty crowd members rushing the stage to dance with the band as they played boy with the arab strap, but that is exactly what happened and I relished in every moment of it. 

another great weekend in the books and other corny sentiments.

xoxo,

gabi

[wluera]

Happy Anniversary to me! Today marks 25 years since I was first cast as a professional improviser in Boston. I celebrated today by doing what I love doing most…teaching others the art that has brought me so much joy the last quarter of a century. Pictured here are my Brain Games and Improv for Everyone classes. Two courses that use the exercises many of us improvisers take for granted to bring joy to people discovering this art for the first time. Within this group are individuals still dealing with the stress of Hurricanes Ian, recent widows, and some who are dealing with different types of illnesses. One of the ones in this bunch is a 91-year old great-grandmother from Bridgewater, MA with an accent that would warm the coldest clam chowdah. My career started in Boston, led me to Sarasota, but has also allowed me to work in so many amazing places around the world. I’m so grateful for the opportunities I have been given and for the people I’ve had a chance to meet and work with. I’m still very much a work in progress but I hope I can still continue to do what I do for another 25 years. Thank you everyone. (at Sarasota, Florida) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj17OM7O1WF/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[messers-moony]

So Perfect | J.P

Paring: Young!James Potter X Fem!Lupin!Reader

Summary: James falls in love with a bookstore called, Lupin’s Library, and can’t believe what they’re going through. 

The bookstore was quiet most days. It was a tiny little two-story shop in London. The idea was it had a book for everyone. On the second story was a living quarter for the two siblings that worked at the shop. It was a small two-bedroom apartment, but it did what it was needed to do. 

Remus and Y/n Lupin were the owners of the shop. It was their eighteenth birthday gift from their parents. Growing up, their parents didn’t have much, so for them, it means a lot. The name of the shop was something simple - Lupin’s Library - but inside held memories that they would cherish forever. 

When they started the business, it was slow. Most days, no one would enter, and Y/n worked a separate job to help Remus pay the bills. But after a year it seemed that people preferred the shop over any other place in London. They enjoy the warmness of Remus’ smile and the radiant happiness from Y/n. 

Remus worked behind the counter at the register, and when there wasn’t a customer, he was reading on the stool he sat on. Y/n did inventory and stocked books. She didn’t like to sit still, preferring to be on her feet moving around. Sometimes early in the morning, she’d grab donuts to leave on the front counter for early customers. 

There was nothing like Lupin’s Library, and that’s why people loved it. 

The bell-ringing announced a new customer into the shop. It was a tiny ding, nothing majorly loud. Y/n was stocking books while Remus was sleeping upstairs in his room. Over the past winter, he had caught a nasty cold leaving Y/n to take over the bookstore until he got better while also trying to take care of him. 

“One moment, and I’ll be with you!” Y/n called as she slipped the last book into place. 

She skipped to make it behind the counter where she met a man about her age - twenty-five. He was taller than her, maybe just around six feet. His hair was messy and curled slightly at the ends. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, and he radiated a certain playfulness Y/n could get used to. 

“Mornin’ sir!” James was taken away by her light and fluffy accent, “What can I do for you today?”

He smiled, “Looking for something to read for my son.”

“How old is he?”

“He’s about to turn five.” James smiled proudly. 

“That’s adorable!” Y/n gushed, “Any way we have magic treehouse books, maybe he’d like those?” 

“Maybe, he’s been begging for new books.” James ran a hand through his hair, “It’s the only way I can get him to calm down.”

Y/n smiled, “You know, on Saturdays, I read to kids. If you want him to join us, he’s more than welcome. Saturdays, I read to kids five to nine. Sundays, I read to kids from ten to fifteen.”

“Wow,” James replied, “I’d love to take him in if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” She smiled, “Everyone’s welcome.”

James gave a grin in response as he searched the Library for these Magic Treehouse books. It took him five minutes before even finding the kids section, but when he did, James grabbed the set of them. He placed each book on top of another and brought them to the counter of the pretty girl. 

He watched at how gently and smoothly she moved the books to scan them. James was so focused he didn’t even notice her handing him the books and the receipt, “But I didn’t-“

“It’s on the house.” Y/n replied, “I’ll see you Saturday.”

James’ face flushed; he hadn’t felt this way since Lily, “I’ll- um- see you Saturday….”

He walked out of the shop with a happy smile placed on his face. James hadn’t felt flustered and nervous around a girl since Lily in seventh grade. He had been head over heels for her since then. They began dating in sophomore year and had Harry right out of high school. It was poor planning on their part, but Harry was everything James had dreamed of. It wasn’t until Harry’s second birthday when Lily said she couldn’t take it anymore. 

Not only had it broken James’ heart, but it broke Harry’s too. Harry had no idea where his momma had gone. What broke James’ heart the most was Lily saying she wanted absolutely nothing to do with either of them. Lily had placed the engagement ring on the wooden table, collected her things, and left, just like that. 

Then it was just them against the world. James and his little mini-me, as Sirius would say. Sirius was the one who recommended the bookshop. He wouldn’t shut up about how cute the boy behind the register was (“Oh James, his hair looks so fluffy!”). It was like hearing a broken record. James didn’t see the boy with fluffy hair, but he did see the girl with the radiant smile. 

That night James sat beside Harry in his twin bed. Harry was thrilled to see the new books on his shelf, and as James began reading, Harry became more hooked with each page. When James shut the book, Harry was devastated. He wanted to know more and finish the book! Alas, he had to go to sleep, and if he did, James promised him that they’d finish the book tomorrow. 

When James brought up going to Lupin’s Library on Saturdays, Harry was ecstatic! He couldn’t wait to meet the new kids and begin a new book. By the time Saturday rolled around, they had finished two of the Magic Treehouse books. James entered the shop with Harry in front of him, hands on the little boy's shoulders. Now at the counter, he saw the boy with fluffy hair. 

“Good afternoon, sir.” He greeted in the same soft accent, “Here for the kids reading circle?”

Harry nodded, and the boy chuckled, “Great. It’s just in that back corner.”

James thanked him before bringing Harry to the back corner, where kids were already sat on a rug. Blankets were spread among some of them, and the girl was sitting on a chair in the corner while the kids made a semi-circle around her. James beckoned Harry to sit, and James smiled at the girl in the chair. 

As the reading began, James decided to venture through the bookstore. The bookshelves were surprisingly clean and rid of any dust. The books were taken care of, not a crease or bent page unless he went into the used section. Some people preferred new books; some preferred used. There truly was a book for everyone in here. 

He made his way back to the front desk with some books he had gained from the shelves. A multitude of paperbacks and gently placed them on the counter. Remus put a bookmark in his book and began to scan each book just as smoothly as the girl. His hands didn’t seem as soft. They looked calloused and scarred. Sirius’ type, all the way. 

“You wouldn’t happen to see a boy with straight black hair in here sometimes?” Remus quirked an eyebrow, “Wears ripped jeans and a leather jacket?”

Remus smiled, “Yes, we get him in here quite frequently.”

“Do you mind if I got your number for him?” James questioned, “He’s talked the world of you and your bookstore.”

“It’s not just my bookstore.” Remus correctly playfully, “My sister works it with me, who I see you’ve been well acquainted with.”

James’ face flushed pink, “I didn’t- I don’t-“

“It’s fine.” Remus replied, handing him the books and the receipt, “She’s a big girl. I trust her to make her own decisions.”

“I didn’t pay for these.”

“You can thank my sister.” Remus winked as he sat on the stool and began reading. 

James grunted at not paying again. He rummaged through his wallet and placed forty pounds in the tip jar. Remus chuckled and shook his head at the gesture, appreciative nonetheless of the man's kindness. Another thirty minutes went by, and Harry was running back into his dad's arms. 

“That was awesome!” Harry exclaimed softly, “She was so nice! She gave us lollipops!”

“Did she?” James asked, and Harry nodded. 

Y/n smiled softly as she joined Remus behind the counter, grabbing some books to stamp while all the kids filed out to find their parents, “Looks like we’ll be back next Saturday.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Y/n replied, “I’ll look forward to it.”

Harry smiled, “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

James and Harry walked out of Lupin’s Library together with smiles on their faces. Harry wouldn’t stop jumping with joy the entire day. He couldn’t get over how lovely the lady was and how she gave him a lollipop. Truthfully, it was the little things when it came to kids. Remus chuckled as they left the library together. 

“He quite likes you, I’d say.”

“Little kids like anyone who give them candy.”

“I don’t mean the boy.” Remus replied, “I mean the adult who seems quite fond of you.”

Y/n hmphed, “And what about the man who wears the leather jacket and the straight black hair?”

Remus blushed, “‘Oh, Y/n, he’s so perfect.’” Y/n mocked.

“You’re annoying.” Remus nudged her with his elbow. 

“Love you too.” 

It wasn’t until Wednesday when he came back in again. Y/n had been absent from the shop due to having to help her friend bartend. Despite working at the bookshop full time, she still had a part-time job bartending. If she spent the whole day at the bar, then she spent the entire night at the bookstore. Working two jobs was no easy feat, but she did it. 

James walked in and wandered aimlessly after not seeing or hearing her. Remus smiled amusedly as he walked in and continued to read his book. James felt the spines of the books but never plucked one from the shelf. Remus got tired of his lost puppy look and finally called to him. 

“She’s not here, you know.”

“Oh,” James muttered, “Where- Where is she?”

Remus placed his book down after bending the corner of the page, “Helping a friend.”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” James replied nervously as he went to walk out the door. 

“Wait!” Remus called, and James turned, “I can- um- I can give you her schedule if you want.”

“Schedule?” James questioned, “She doesn’t work here full time?”

Remus shook his head, “No, she works part-time at a bar around the block. It helps-“ He scratched the back of his neck, “It helps pay the bills.”

“You guys don’t make enough to stay in business?” 

“No, we don’t.” Remus murmured, “I can't really do much else other than work here, so Y/n took up another job. Which she hates, and it drains her.” 

James was appalled. These people were so nice and kind. How weren’t they making enough to stay in business? Remus looked utterly embarrassed by the whole thing, confessing to a customer that they were struggling. James, himself, was a Nephrologists at a hospital not too far away. His family was small, and he made a lot of money. 

Without another word, James left the shop leaving Remus in a confused state. He walked to an ATM that was only a couple of blocks away before pulling out a decent amount of cash. James walked back into the bookstore and placed an envelope on the counter. Remus stared at it confused as he got on his own two feet to open it. As he peeled back the seal, he saw what was inside. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t-“

“Please.” James begged, “Harry would be devastated if his favorite place went out of business.”

Remus had tears in his eyes as he placed the money beneath the counter, “Thank you. You have no idea what this means. Our parents bought this shop with almost nothing, and we’ve been trying, but it’s so hard.”

“Well,” James began, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if this place was gone, especially after knowing you’re guys’ kindness.”

Remus smiled and grabbed a piece of paper with a calendar on it. At the bottom, he wrote his and Y/n’s names along with their phone numbers. His handwriting was tidy and curvy. Remus handed the piece of paper to him, and James took it gratefully. 

“It’s Y/n’s schedule along with her part-time bartending job. Our numbers are at the bottom.” Remus motioned to the calendar and at the numbers on the bottom. 

“Thank you, Remus.” James smiled as he pulled out a business card from his wallet, “Obviously, you don’t need me to be your doctor, but my number is on the card if either of you needs anything.”

Remus took the two cards gently, “Thank you, James. We really won’t forget this.”

“I’m glad.” James smiled, “Because I won’t forget you two.”

He left the bookstore with a skip in his step. It felt good to do that. James hadn’t felt this happy since Harry was born, but now he felt like himself again. He felt like that energized boy from middle school who was always destined to be great. 

James didn’t know what it was like to be poor. He grew up with his parents being doctors. They made decent money, and James always got what he wanted. They lived with the higher class. It made his heart ache that Remus and Y/n, who were so sweet we’re struggling. He couldn’t take it. He had to do something. It felt good to do that something. 

Around the block was a bar called Whiskey Woes. It was old and rugged-looking. The black stone bricks seemed to be cracking in every spot. It made James grimace. Walking inside was even worse. The pungent smell of older men with no taste for cologne made him scrunch his nose. But behind the counter, he saw an exhausted girl who was giving it her all to get tips. 

James made his way to sit on a barstool, and sluggishly Y/n made her way to him, “Good afternoon, sir! What can I getcha today?”

“A glass of water?” James replied, lifting his head, and Y/n let out a visible sigh of relief, “‘Course.”

A minute of running around the bar later, a glass of water was placed in front of him, “How’s work, Y/n?”

“How’d you find out my name?”

“Well, your name tag says it.” James pointed, “And I went by the bookstore today.”

Y/n hummed, “Remus tell you where I work, huh?”

“Yeah.” James replied, stirring his water with his straw, “And I want you to quit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to quit working at this shithole.” James repeated, “And take this.”

Another envelope was passed to her across the bar. Y/n eyed him as she broke the glued seal on the white paper. Inside she saw cash, and it didn’t look like just a tiny amount either. Y/n’s face showed visible shock, and James smiled sheepishly. 

“Consider it a tip.”

“This is more than a tip.” Y/n chuckled, “This is like three of my yearly salaries.”

James’ smile faltered just a tiny bit, “You don’t belong here. You belong at the bookstore with Remus. You don’t seem happy here, and Remus sees it too. Says you come home exhausted and drained.”

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?” 

“Maybe go on a date with me?” 

Y/n blushed, “A date?”

“Yeah, a date.” James muttered. 

“I think you deserve a lot more than a date.” Y/n replied, and James smirked, “Only if you’ll let me.”

She laughed, and it made his stomach flutter. It was a sound he wanted to hear forever. It made his heart flip and the corners of his lips quirk. The way she tilted her head back and how her hair flowed as she did so—the crinkle of her nose and the creases of her eyes as she shut them tightly. 

She was so perfect. 

[hellotherekenobi]

─── tired. [pt.ii]

summary: tired from a mission, you fall asleep on obi-wan's shoulder.

index: part one.

MINI-SERIES. ⟶ 2,533 WORDS.

cw: padawan!reader, master kenobi.

a/n: big thank you to those who helped me with this idea and giving me one hell of an inspiration boost!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It felt as if you had blinked. When your eyes opened, you expected to see the inside of the ship you and your master were on, and yet, you saw the inside of your private quarters. It didn’t seem like you had fallen asleep that long, but with how heavy your head felt and the feeling of sleep in your eye, apparently it was much longer than that. On any other day, you would have assumed that perhaps you were so tired that you forgot walking to your quarters yourself, but the sheets were far too neatly tucked to have been your doing.

Someone had carried you, and that same someone had tucked you in.

You sit up and look around, expecting to find something. You were alone in the room, that much was clear. How long it was since you were brought here, you don't know, but it’s definitely no mystery as to who that someone was. After all, who else was with you when you fell asleep? Then, speak of the devil, your comlink beeps. It’s loud enough that it startles you wide awake, as you scramble about in the sheets after patting your pockets and finding them empty. Finally, after some more digging, your fingers touch the curve of it and you quickly pick it up, but much too quick, you find, it slips right out of your hand and goes flying for your door.

Hitting the floor with a thud, your knees sink into the carpet as you start to shuffle over to your discarded, and hopefully not broken, comlink, almost burning your knees through the fabric of your robes. Imagine having to tell the Council that the red marks on your knees were due to carpet burn and not the mission. As you reach your comlink and swoop it up in your hand, you try your best to sound casual and not as if you had just woken up and bee-lined for the call.

“Hello?”

“Ah, you’re awake. How did you sleep?” it’s your master’s voice.

“Um, good, thank you.” you wait a moment. “How did I get here?”

You can hear Obi-Wan chuckle through the line. “You were completely asleep by the time the jet landed. I couldn’t find it in myself to wake you up.”

Okay. Processing... connecting the dots... registering. Obi-Wan, your master, carried you all the way from the hanger bay to your quarters?

“Yes, well, I couldn’t have woken you up even if I tried.”

Oh kriff, you had said your thoughts out loud.

“There’s much to do today. I know you would like to get some more rest in, but I hardly think I would be much of a Jedi Master if I let you take a day off.”

“Right, of course.” you say. “I’ll be ready in a moment.”

“Take your time. We don’t want you walking around with your robes on backward again, do we?”

Click. You hang up on Obi-Wan.

─────── ⋯ ───────

Obi-Wan’s lips curve into a soft smile, barely there but still noticeable. His comlink sits inside his pocket after he had put it there with a laugh, thinking of how you must have groaned at the memory he mentioned when he had called you earlier. He couldn’t help it, he loved to poke fun at you from time to time—you almost made it too easy. He also couldn’t help but think of you earlier, falling asleep on his shoulder. It was cute.

“Master Kenobi?”

His eyes lift up to the mention of his name. For a moment, he looks on in silence, wondering why he had been called (and completely forgetting his reason for being here), until he remembers.

“Yes,” he sits up in his seat, knees hitting each other. “I believe so.”

The Council members nod and for a moment it seems as if he’s getting away with the very obvious fact that he hadn’t been paying attention. Only for a moment. His arm is nudged by the Jedi next to him, one who had been on the mission too, and he quirks his brow. Obi-Wan shakes his head before crossing his arms and looking outward again, this time actually trying to listen.

He can hear the Jedi chuckle beside him, but he doesn’t mind. He’s alright being swept up in his thoughts of you, of how proud he is of you and of how young you make him feel, as the years go on and he finds himself growing further away from the young padawan he used to be. You almost help him make time stand still, like there could never be a sunset with the promise of spending the day with you. When he’s with you, he feels that same easy-going amiability he felt with his former master.

When the meeting is over and Obi-Wan leaves the room alongside the other Jedi, he finds you standing not too far from the door. The first thing he does is check your robes. On right. Good. The next thing he does is smile at you, which has you bopping a bit on the spot and smiling back at him. Sometimes he thinks one look at your smile could end the war. If only it were that simple.

“You look well-rested.” Obi-Wan says as he nears you, patting you ‘hello’ on the shoulder.

You smile, looking around you, watching the other Jedi walking past for a moment. “That was the most sound sleep I’ve had in months.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it. That must mean that you’re ready for a full day of training.”

The grumble under your breath does not go amiss to Obi-Wan.

─────── ⋯ ───────

You’re so tired again. This time it wasn’t a long mission, or an army of droids, but your very own master who had the audacity to smile at you all dazzling-like, as if he couldn’t tell how badly you wanted to hit your bed right now—or the floor, if you stay here any longer—after the training you went through today. He was seemingly upping the pressure each time you two trained and you had to wonder why he was doing so all of the sudden. Anytime you asked him, though, you were met with the same response: “It’s for your benefit.” Gee, thanks.

By the time your heels are aching, Obi-Wan finally calls a wrap on training. You could jump with glee if you had the energy, so instead you just smile at him and mutter a ‘thank you’ as you reach for your cloak on the chair beside him.

“You’re doing very well. I can see your progress each day.” he says, smiling up at you.

“All thanks to your training, master.” you reply, trying to hold back a yawn.

Obi-Wan chuckles. “You better go get some rest.”

“If you insist.” you shrug your shoulders, even though you’re internally crying with joy, then slip your cloak on.

You tell him goodbye, and goodnight, before trudging out of the training room and heading over to your private quarters. As you turn down the hallway where your door is, you’re greeted by a few other padawans who are walking in the direction you came from. They smile politely at you and you offer a wave, when suddenly one of them says: “Caraya’s soul, you look like death.” GEE, THANKS.

“I’ve been training so much these last few days,” you tell them. “I’m just really tired.”

“Where’s Master Kenobi?” one of them asks, looking behind you.

“Back in the training room. Why do you ask?”

“I figured he’d carry you to your quarters again.”

Some of them giggle when you stand there mutely. Take a deep breath, you tell yourself, then you try to laugh it off. “You saw that?”

“Who didn’t? You were out like a saber.”

“If you ask me,” another one pipes up. “it was pretty romantic. I wish he’d carry me like that.”

“You’re so lucky to have him as a master.”

You start to zone out from the embarrassment of it all, only picking up a few words and the grumble of one of them being trained by Master Windu. It’s a bit of a blur when they say goodbye, with you forming a smile in a tight line and then hurrying into your quarters just up ahead. They saw! If they saw, then who else did? You hadn’t really ever thought about it. To be honest, you were trying to forget about it. You’re so incredibly tired and this isn’t helping.

“Oh, Maker,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “This is horrible! How can I possibly fall asleep now?”

As soon as you hit the bed, you’re out.

─────── ⋯ ───────

It’s for your benefit, that’s what Obi-Wan kept telling you. It wasn’t exactly the honest answer, but in a way it was. Truthfully, Obi-Wan does want to see you progress to becoming a Jedi Knight. He knows you have it in you. Yet also truthfully, he’s been pushing a bit more with your training because... well because he’s holding onto the ridiculous hope that you might fall asleep on his shoulder again if you’re really tired.

He thought he had done rather well at avoiding attention the day he carried you back to your quarters. No one had spoken about it and he hadn’t heard a single mention of it from the Council either. Yet all it takes is the giggling of a few padawans walking toward the training room, hushed together, and becoming silent the moment they see him standing in the doorway for him to think kriff. He steps to the side for them to walk on ahead and they all smile at him politely, before going back to their hushed talking.

Obi-Wan makes a hurried pace over to your quarters. He’s hoping they didn’t say anything to you, or that you didn’t piece it together by their giggles alone, like he just did. It’s a horrible feeling in his chest when he knocks on your door. He’s felt his heart skip a beat many times in his life, mostly when fighting, but nothing compares to the feeling now—it’s almost thunderous. The true worry starts to kick in when you don’t answer his knocking. Were you upset? Embarrassed? It’s too much for Obi-Wan to think about, so he pushes the door open with the force and steps inside, ready to apologize or at least explain himself, when a noise shuts him up.

You’re... snoring.

There you are, sprawled out on the bed, almost looking like a heap of fabric and you’re snoring. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he should be happy or disappointed that you’re asleep, and then all together he feels apologetic. He worked you too hard. He let himself want so much that he didn’t even really think about how it was affecting you. He feels like the most oblivious Jedi Master in the galaxy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, though he knows you can’t hear him.

He stands there a bit awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He needs to tell you he’s sorry in person, not like this. Letting out a deep sigh, he turns on his heel and makes his way back over to the door, and then for the second time since he stepped inside your quarters, a noise stops him in his tracks.

“Obi-Wan,” it’s your voice, muffled and sleepy.

His heart is definitely thundering. He steps back over to you quickly, his fingers instinctually reaching out to brush gently along your cheek. “Yes?”

Your eyes flutter open and his worries dissipate when you crinkle your nose at him, smiling slightly. There it is, the smile that could end the war.

“Can you tuck me in before you go?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, feeling all the weight in his chest drop to his feet and melt into the floor. “Of course, dear one.”

He’s as gentle as ever, pulling the sheets up and over your body, moving the pillow slightly so that you can lay more comfortably. It’s almost like the first time, expect this time your eyes are still smiling up at him. When he’s done, he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead and this time he can see just how far your smile grows.

“Rest well.”

He lets you sleep in the next morning, no matter what kind of Jedi Master that makes him.

─────── ⋯ ───────

The jet lands smoothly and Obi-Wan is thankful. He didn’t want a rough landing to wake you up, but then he remembers that you have to wake up—the jet is landed and it’s time to get off. But he can’t. He can’t wake you, not when you look so peaceful and he was enjoying the feeling of your head on his shoulder. He probably could have gotten some sleep in as well, if he was being honest with himself. You have a way of helping him switch off of battle mode; turning him back into a person, rather than a General.

He simply wants this moment to last a little longer, but the door hisses open and the ramp lowers before he could even think to wish the thought. He doesn’t let up, though, so he waits until you’re both the last people on the jet. Then, very gently, he moves to cradle you in his arms; scooping you up and lifting you from the seat. He carries you the way over to your private quarters, not caring about some of the eyes on him, but does take an alternate route to save yourself from any future embarrassment, should anyone mention it to you when you’re awake. You’re still a padawan but no longer a child. He can only imagine what a sight this is and how you’d hold this to him for months if word spread.

When the door opens and he walks inside, he almost stops to allow the feeling of you in his arms to linger just a little longer, yet settles you down onto your bed before he can let himself stand there. He tucks the sheets in over your body, after putting your lightsaber on the nightstand. He wouldn’t want that turning on, Maker knows he’s almost done it a few times. Your hand is curled in an open fist on the pillow, right beside your face. You look so peaceful, not at all as if you had fought off a hoard of droids just a few hours before.

He wonders if you’re dreaming and, maybe, if those dreams involve a life free from the Order, where you didn’t have to fight for peace because there was already peace in the galaxy. Obi-Wan won’t lie to himself, he’s often wondered what his life would be like if he weren’t a Jedi and if there were no war. Would he farm? Would he do something creative, like paint? Would he still have met you? No, there’s no dream that could be worth nearly enough from the reality of knowing you. He wouldn’t offer it up for anything.

The only dream Obi-Wan has is that you can fall asleep on his shoulder again.

taglist: @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @alwayssleepingforreal @immoral-rose @bloodybunnyuwu @nagitokomaeda-onthe-nintendo-ds @princessxkenobi @mythandmagik @i-cant-hear-you16 @pradahux @inukako @whyiminlove @cosmicsierra @dxnxdjarxn @voidmalfoy @darthkenobii @chogisss @obiwns @nectav @hellolitty

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt 3

its finally time 😂 after months of staring at an empty google doc i finally had a useful idea - also y’all, go listen to ‘Brighter Side of Grey’ by Five Finger Death Punch bc that’s the song i based this on and its fire and i love it also all of ffdp is one whole witchery mood

Warnging: vague discussion of a car crash where Geralt was severely injured, big emotionaly vulnerability, swearing?, listen to the song then you’ll get the vibes i promise

__________________

“Give them a break, guys,” Eskel sighed as he wrote down his coffee order, “They had a close call. It’s not like they’re always this…”

“Gross. Skel. The word you’re looking for is gross.” Lambert snatched the paper out of his brother’s hand and stalked out of the room with Aiden in tow. 

Jaskier scrunched his nose and called from where he was tucked under Geralt’s chin, “Did we drive them away? I can get up if it’s too much.” Even as he spoke, neither he nor Geralt so much as twitched to make good on the offer. 

“Doesn’t bother me,” Eskel shrugged. 

Lambert and Aiden, mainly Lambert, were getting fed up with Geralt and Jaskier cuddling and cooing and doing general new couple bullshit. Especially since they’d been together three years now. They were recording a collaboration song, meaning everyone had to be there, but it seemed the two vocalists only really cared about each other. Jaskier sat on Geralt’s lap, played with his hair, stole kisses whenever he could… at one point Lambert caught Geralt tracing Jaskier’s lips and forced a coughing fit to get his attention. He probably thought it was subtle, even if no one else did. So to take a break and get some of what he called ‘patience juice’ (coffee), Lambert ran to their favorite coffee shop while Eskel laid down his bass line. 

It’s not that they were intentionally this annoying, not all the time at least. After the car crash, especially once Geralt started doing well in his physical therapy, the couple just couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Not to say that was the only relationship Geralt was suddenly extra involved in, it was just the most noticeable. 

Finally, after tea and coffee was distributed to everyone it was time for Geralt and Jaskier to, well, do their jobs. Jaskier was fidgeting and humming little scales, doing anything to calm the sudden nerves he felt bubbling up in his stomach. 

“You alright?” Geralt purred, nudging him with his elbow as they stood side by side at their respective microphones. When Jaskier only shrugged he continued, “What's wrong?” 

“I’m just not used to so many people being here while I…” Jaskier motioned to the mic before glancing around him and taking a deep breath, “it’s a vulnerable song…” 

Geralt’s worry lines in his forehead melted as he pulled Jaskier into his arms, “I can kick them out if you want?” he whispered. 

Shaking his head and inhaling Geralt’s scent deeply, something Jaskier had learned not to take for granted, he steeled his nerves, “I’ll be fine. Maybe a little weepy, but fine.”

As they were about to start, listening to the instrumental track and humming their parts of the song, Lambert brought Jaskier a bottle of water and set it on his music stand. He gave him a quick side hug and kissed his hair, offering a small “sorry” for all his teasing. Jaskier just giggled in response, the kind that only bubbles over from too much anticipation. He missed it, but Geralt mouthed a small ‘thank you’ to Lambert as he sat back down on the other side of the glass. 

Jaskier hooked his pinky around Geralt’s as the guitar intro started, needing that little bit of contact for the first line. When they’d written it it felt perfect. The audience knew exactly what kind of song they were about  to hear and Geralt really hadn’t known if he would pull through. It took Jaskier right back to the dimly lit hospital room where he scrawled and scratched out lyrics to keep Geralt distracted from his upcoming surgery. The fear, the desperation, the little pockets of joy when they forgot where they were, the overwhelming love that Jaskier thought he’d never be able to fully give to Geralt all crept back up his throat as he took a breath for that stupid fucking first line. 

His voice cracked partway through as he sang, making him fully grip Geralt’s hand, “I’m writing this in case I’m gone tomorrow,” By some miracle, he found his support for the next line, “I’m writing this in case I’ve moved along,”

For a moment he thought he’d gotten over the worst of it. A couple lines passed in relative ease, emotional but not so much it interfered with his craft. If he focused on looking at his microphone and keeping his breath supported he might make it through. Then Geralt joined him for the chorus. 

“When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away. When the sun burns out, I’ll be waiting on the brighter side of grey.” 

His harmony faltered and he involuntarily heaved a broken gasp in the middle of a line, desperately trying to focus on the mic that was now warped by the tears in his eyes. 

Geralt broke off after the first word of his verse, turning to Jaskier and pulling him in again, “You alright, love?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry,” Jaskier groaned in embarrassment as he clung to Geralt’s frame, “I’m being a baby. I wasn’t even the one hurt.” 

“No you’re not,” Geralt argued, running his knuckles over Jaskier’s cheeks to wipe away his tears, “Here,” he moved their mics and stands close enough that they were shoulder to shoulder and their fingers could comfortably lace together. 

Jaskier squeezed his hand gently and gave him a brave smile, “From the top?” 

“From the top.”

This time Jaskier tried watching Geralt as they sang. He made it through the first chorus and got to just watch as Geralt sang his verse. The pang of emotion in his chest was still ever present, but it was manageable. Until he noticed Geralt having trouble. 

On “All you get to keep is what you’ve shared,” Geralt squeezed his eyes closed and his grip on Jaskier’s hand tightened. The folk singer prepared, relaxed, readied himself to take a breath in. He was expecting that one to hurt after how much Geralt insisted upon it. How he threatened to get out of that hospital bed and scribble the line himself if Jaskier didn’t put it in. He wasn’t expecting the last line of the stanza to hurt. It had been comforting to the both of them at the time.

Geralt’s lip quivered and his voice was almost pinched as he sang out, “Remember no one ever really dies.”

Even being the one to write the melody, Jaskier missed the first three notes of the chorus, “Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that was on me,” Geralt sniffed and chuckled, “I knew you’d lose it if I did.”

“How do you do this?!” Jaskier exclaimed, chugging half the water bottle to keep the breakdown at bay. 

Aiden’s voice came over their headphones, “Half our songs are his trauma and another quarter are group trauma. He’s got practice sweetheart.”

They tried a couple more times, even got through the whole song once with only minimal tears and one tasteful cracked note. But it was still a struggle for Jaskier to keep it together, and the more they sang, the more Geralt lost his iron grip on his composure. 

“Look at me,” Jaskier instructed, moving Geralt to face him and adjusting their mics so they could sing to each other, “Just like when we wrote it. Except a little less pain.” 

The joke earned a snort out of Geralt, exactly what Jaskier was aiming for, “This is supposed to be easier?”

“We can try?”

Jaskier did wonderfully for his verse, singing to Geralt was familiar and safe, even if the subject matter was terrifying. The chorus went well, but as soon as Geralt started to sing, Jaskier couldn’t exhale and it was all he could do not to sniff and ruin the take. 

“If you’re hearing this I know you’re probly scared,” had tears falling down his cheeks again and Geralt’s voice cracked as his eyes welled up, “Nope,” he choked, “that’s worse. Much worse.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier gave a watery giggle as he wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle, “Why did we decide to do this again?”

Geralt pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s hair, sniffling and holding him tight, “I think we’re sadists.”

“Back to back,” Eskel’s voice crackled in their ears, “Try it back to back.” 

Leaning back to watch Jaskier’s reaction, Geralt hummed, “Do you want to? Or do you need a break?”

“Fuck it,” Jaskier shrugged, spinning Geralt around and following suit as he moved his equipment. 

As they stood waiting for the tech to start the audio, Jaskier felt like he could really inhale for the first time all day. Geralt was there, he could feel his ribs expand against his back and his fingers tapping like a metronome on Jaskier’s palms. This is what they were missing when they wrote the damn song. The comfort of knowing someone is always at your back, that they’ll be there when it’s hard and even when you’re separated. 

A warmth spread through Jaskier as the intro started and he felt ready. He still pressed back into Geralt on the harder lines, reminding himself he was still there, but they both made it through two full takes. 

On the final one, as the recording of the softly picked guitar faded out, Jaskier couldn’t help but repeat two more lines, “When the lights go down, Know that I am never far away.”

His voice hung in the air for a beat, the sense of finality reverberating through the studio and bringing everything else to a stand still. 

Geralt was the first to breathe, “Shit, we made it.”

“We fuckin made it,” Jaskier huffed, emotionally drained but immensely satisfied as he turned to hug Geralt from behind and press his cheek to his spine, “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get a snack?”

“Yeah.”

When the sound tech played the potential mix for the first time, he tacked on an echoing, distant sounding recording of their conversation. Everyone looked at each other and nodded, goosebumps on their arms and that feral sparkle in their eyes that every artist gets when they’ve stumbled on something really exciting. They re-recorded some guitar and drums, but they kept the vocals exactly the same. 

For the album art they wrote “I love you” on the tattered hospital stationary that had the lyrics and chords written on it and took a picture. Jaskier had the original framed and hung in their house as a little reminder. 

[weelittleweasley]

meet the wealseys (f.w.)

prompt: you met fred at the joke shoppe when you had first arrived from america. after dating for a little while, he asks you to come and meet his family. needless to say, your visit to the burrow was one you’ll never forget.

pairing: post war! fred weasley x fem! american! reader

warnings: mention of the war and death, food and eating

word count: 6.4k

Diagon Alley was much different than what you had pictured, but in the best way possible. The tight quarters were packed with people as you pushed through, looking at the different store fronts, seeing how each one was uniquely different and magical. This was not what you were used to in the States, but you knew that you would become adjusted very soon. The hustle and bustle was refreshing and exciting for a young girl starting a new life abroad. As you continued to stroll along the alley, people called out to each other, exchanging sickles and galleons for merchandise, laughing and hugging each other, poking a smile onto your face. There were many stores to choose from, but you kept your eyes peeled for a store front that jumped out at you.

It didn’t take long for that to happen.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the banner clearly spelt out with a animatronic person, tilting his hat up. Number 93 Diagon Alley. 

Your curiosity stirred inside of you as you shrugged and pushed the front door open. Sounded interesting enough. As you entered the shoppe, you were instantly greeted with screaming children, things zooming past you, and so many colors. The shoppe itself radiated childhood joy which made your heart soar with excitement.

Walking through out the store, you quickly realized that this was a joke shoppe with countless amounts of products. Ones that you were familiar with and others that you had never heard of. You laughed to yourself as you saw Dungbombs and U-No-Poos. “Clever,” you spoke to yourself as you continued to walk through the aisles of the stores. Whomever started this joke shoppe clearly had an affinity for their childhood and having fun; something you could gladly get on board with.

As you walked around, you saw how excited everyone was in the store. It was full of life and nostalgia and joy. There was laughter, smiles, and cheering; how could one not love it here? The store’s energy itself made you want to stay forever. As if England couldn’t get any better.

You filed through the shelves, shuffling through brightly colored packaging and funny titled products that brought glee to your face. Maybe you could purchase a few things and send some of them home back to your family and friends in America. They would get a kick out of these. Slowly, you had accumulated a pile of toys and such in your arms. I must look out of my mind, you think to yourself. A 20 year old girl by herself in a joke shoppe, carrying poop themed jokes. 

 “Need a basket?” a voice calls from behind you as you flip around. Standing there was a tall, well dressed man with flaming red hair gelled swiftly away from his face as he smiled at you. His chocolate brown eyes were warm and comforting and his smile was enough to have you weak in the knees. “Seems like you got your hands full,” he speaks before ducking his right eye down in a cheeky wink.

His forwardness took you by shock. You stammered for a second before finally speaking, “Yeah, sure, thank you.” He hands you a basket that you dump all of the products in. “I appreciate it, thanks,” you smile back at him.

The red haired gentleman speaks, “It’s my job. Literally.” You chuckle lightly, nodding your head, realizing he was the owner of the shoppe. The uniform, the proud badge he wore on his suit jacket, the amount of confidence he exuded. It made sense. “You’ve got a fine selection of products in your basket, I must admit,” he smiles, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Some of our bestsellers.”

You smile back at him, tilting your head, trying to get a read on him. Was he trying to flirt? Or was he just trying to make a sale? “I suppose that’s why I’m buying them. Although, not all of them are for me, I must admit,” you sigh. “I’m sending some to my family back home. Figured my brother will like it.”

The owner nods his head, “Ah, yes. Nothing a brother loves more than poop themed pranks. What a brilliant sister you are,” he winks as you lightly chuckle. “I figure home is the States for you?” he asks as you furrow your brows, wondering how he knew. “Your accent. It’s pretty recognizable,” he laughs as you roll your eyes. “What brings you to London?”

At first, you hesitated sharing your story with a business owner of a joke shoppe that you had just met. But there was something about him that made you want to trust him. “I graduated from Ilvermorny four years ago. I decided I wanted to move out of the States to find other work to see if there were more job opportunities here. I moved here about a month or two ago,” you tell the flame haired man who leaned against the wall, listening to you intently as his eyes darted from your eyes to your body, quite obviously checking you out. You gulp when his eyes meet yours with a smirk on his face. Within an instant, you decide to play his game. “Besides, there are cuter men in London.”

He chuckles at your joke and nods his head. “Understandable. Seems like you moved for very important reasons,” he replies as you blush. “Can I check you out?”

You freeze. “Can you what?”

The gentleman laughs at your surprise. “Your merchandise? Can I ring you up?” he clarifies as you exhale a breath with a blush, lightly laughing before nodding. “Brilliant...besides, I’ve been checking you out since you walked into the store,” he simply states before leading the way to the cash register. Your heart stops as your mouth runs dry. At least he was honest. “I didn’t get your name,” he speaks as he ducks behind the counter, taking your basket and ringing up your things. “I’m Fred.”

Fred. The name suited him. You smile, “(Y/N),” you speak, extending you hand to shake his as he does so with a smirk on his lips. “The shoppe is really amazing. You must be proud of it,” you praise him as he smiles proudly.

“We are,” he speaks as you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “My brother and I run the shoppe together. He’s my twin,” he reveals.

“Twin?” you clarify.

“Yeah, twin. Georgie!” Fred calls out into the shoppe. 

Suddenly, from behind a stack of boxes pops out a figure identical to Fred. “Good God,” you breathe out. The twin, now known as George, walks over to Fred as Fred slings an arm around his brother. As they stand next to each other, you realize just how identical they were. The only way telling them apart was the color of the shirt they wore. This would surely be trouble.

“George, this is (Y/N). She recently moved here from America,” Fred tells George who smiles widely at you, extending his hand to shake yours as you gladly accept it. “(Y/N), this is George, my twin.”

With a large smile, you speak to George, “Pleasure to meet you. I see where Fred gets his handsome looks from,” you joke around, making George laugh wildly.

“Oh, you’re brilliant. I like you already,” George beams before nudging his brother with a knowing look. Fred gave his brother a shove as George smirked at him, knowing exactly what was going on here. Unbeknownst to you. “Well, I hope this isn’t the last I see of you, (Y/N). I’ve got to go restock some shelves, but don’t be a stranger,” George tells you, very friendly for just having met each other. 

And just as quickly as he came, he’s gone, disappearing behind boxes. “He seems lovely,” you tell Fred who rolls his eyes, making you giggle. 

Fred shakes his head, “Ball breaker,” he huffs. “But he’s my brother. Gotta love him,” he smiles. “That’ll be three galleons,” he chimes. You look at him puzzled. There was enough merchandise there to be well over ten galleons, but he was only charging you three. But before you can protest, Fred speaks, “The new girl discount,” he winks as you smile at him gratefully before handing him three galleons. “I hope your brother enjoys his things.”

You look up at Fred and gulp. The fact that this complete stranger had you at a loss of words was beyond you. “I’m sure he’ll love them,” you speak honestly as Fred smiles softly. “I hope this isn’t the last time we see each other, Fred,” you reveal to him honestly. There was something about Fred that made you want to be around him. The life he had inside of him was enticing and exciting; he was different than other men you have met in London. 

Looking into your eyes, Fred gulps before speaking, “I’m sure it won’t be. In fact, since you’re still new to London, maybe I could show you around this weekend? I know a few good spots in the area. You know, since I’m a local.” 

His words make a grin appear on your lips as you nod your head, “That sounds really nice, Fred. I’d like that.”

“Wicked,” Fred breathes out as you giggle. “Saturday? We can make a day of it? We’ll meet here and I’ll give you a very comprehensive tour,” he wiggles his brows as you smile with a nod. “Until then, (Y/N).”

You give Fred a small wave goodbye before exiting the joke shoppe with two bags full of pranks and toys. And now a date for Saturday.

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

“Fred, let’s get a move on! The shop opens in twenty and it’s new release day!” George yells from outside the bedroom door as Fred groan, cuddling further into your chest as you rub his back. “(Y/N)! Stop distracting my git brother!”

You chuckle as Fred calls back out, “Leave her out of this, you wanker! I’ll be ready in five!” George groans from outside of the door before you hear his footsteps disappear into the kitchen. Fred looks up at you as he lays on your chest, you brushing his floppy red hair out of his eyes. “I guess that’s my cue,” Fred huffs before peeling himself off you, rubbing his face with a groan.

It had been three months since you had met Fred that day in the joke shoppe. Three months since he had flirted with you and you had gone out on your first date. There was undeniable chemistry between you and Freddie. He adored how you loved to joke around, not taking yourself or anything too seriously. He adored that way you looked around London with such wonder and curiosity with wide eyes and smile. Fred loved the way you threw your head back with you laughed and gave his hand a squeeze. Fred loved when you bit back a smile when you teased him before giving in and falling into a fit of giggles. Fred was smitten with you and you him. You adored his confidence and professionalism, but you adored even more the way he could act like a fool at the drop of a hat. Fred was childlike in the best way possible. He was a breath of fresh air. He was what you needed when you moved here.

“Oh, come on, Freddie,” you sit up in the bed, Fred’s large t-shirt draped over your body. “It’s new release day! That should be loads of fun! Besides, after the work day is over, you know I’ll be waiting for you,” you kiss his shoulder blade. You worked just up the road at the Apothecary, so it was easy for Fred to run over and see you on his lunch break. That was Fred’s favorite part of the day. He secretly wished that you didn’t get another job, so he could easily run over on those lunch breaks to steal a quick kiss and see your face. Even if it was for three minutes. 

Fred begrudgingly pulls on his suit pants, huffing, “I can only hope that this release goes well. George and I invested a lot into this release and if it doesn’t do well, then we’ll lose a lot.”

You give your darling a knowing look, “It won’t do poorly, Fred. You and I both know that.” Fred gives you a gentle smile as he buttons up his shirt. “Come here,” you sit up on your knees as Fred walks over the edge of the bed. You pull his tie around his neck before tying it for him, something you knew he loved. “Today is going to be a brilliant day and you are going to sell out. I feel it in my gut.”

Fred takes your chin in his fingers, forcing your gaze up to his. His eyes look into yours with adoration before he pulls you in for a sweet kiss as you smile into it. Fred’s lips move gently against yours, making your stomach sway in excitement. Kissing Fred never got old. He gently pull away from you, pushing his forehead against yours. “I love you, angel,” he coos as you blush. He pecks the tip of your nose before sighing, “I’ll stop by the apothecary around lunch to update you on how sales are going.”

With a small nod, you watch him open the bedroom door and get ready to leave. “I love you, Freddie. You’ll be great,” you call after him as he sends you a wink.

“What about me?!” George’s voice booms from the other room. 

You laugh and sigh, “You’ll be phenomenal, Georgie!”

“Hah! I got a phenomenal and you got a great, Fred! Guess (Y/N) has a favorite twin!” George teases his brother as you hear a slap and George squeal an Ouch!

“Oh, would you shut your fat mouth and get downstairs!” Fred exclaims at his brother, making you chuckle. 

The sounds of the twins banter slowly faded as they descended the stairs of the flat down to the shoppe below. You smiled to yourself as you pried yourself off of Fred’s comfortable linens and forced yourself to get ready for your own job that awaited you.

Soon enough, the lunch hour rolled around and you were finishing helping a customer purchase a bunch of ingredients for a spell. “Have a lovely day,” you chimed as you handed her a bag full of her things.

As she left the apothecary, you exhaled deeply and arched your back, stretching the kinks in your back. Standing on your feet all day really took a lot out of you. 

The bell at the front door chimed signaling that another customer had arrived. Mindlessly, you begin speaking, “Good afternoon and welcome. Is there something I can assist you w-”

You are briskly cut off by a pair of lips on yours as you instantly melt into Fred’s touch, humming gently into your embrace. Fred pulls away with a large grin on his face. “Hi, Freddie,” you speak.

“How did you know it was me and not George,” he questions you, poking at your sides. “How do you know it’s not George right now pretending to be Fred? Huh?”

In between giggles, you manage to speak, “I know my boyfriend, Fred.” Fred halts his tickling as you smile up at him. “Besides, George has a more square jaw than you do. You also have calloused finger pads from opening boxes and George doesn’t because he carries the inventory,” you recount as Fred looked at you, quite impressed that you had little tells between him and his twin brother. “Anyway, how are sales going? Business booming?”

Fred smiles widely before you jump on the counter, Fred standing in between your legs. “Better than booming. We sold out at eleven in the morning. Nearly an hour after we opened,” Fred gushes as you gasp, pulling him in for a tight hug. You weren’t surprised that the release went well; the boys knew their demographic and always knew what the people wanted. “But that’s not all the good news, my love.”

You give your boyfriend and knowing look. “Really?” you ask as he nods. “Oh, I’m scared.”

“No need to be,” he chuckles. “I called my mum to tell her the good news and she thinks a celebration is in order. She invited us, all of us, to come home for the weekend. Everyone will be home. Me, George, Ron, Percy, Ginny, Mum, Dad. I assume that Hermione and Harry’ll be there too because bloody hell it’s not home without them. Mum even said that Bill and Fleur may stop by at one point! It’ll be a mini vacation! Isn’t that brilliant?” he beams.

But instead of cheering in glee, your heart freezes. Going to Fred’s childhood home to meet his family and his friends? Not just for dinner. For the weekend. You had no idea what to expect. You knew that Fred had a large family and he spoke highly about all of them. He told you stories of his childhood and Hogwarts and he always seemed to speak of it all with such love.

It’s not that you didn’t want to meet his family, you just didn’t want to not meet their expectations that they had for Fred. From the stories Fred and George had told you, Mrs. Weasley was very protective over her children. Especially after the war. With Fred nearly dying, she was especially careful with Fred. The last thing you wanted was to make his mother disappointed in his choice of a partner and even more terrifying, you didn’t want your beloved boyfriend’s mother hate you.

“(Y/N)? You haven’t said anything? You alright?” Fred snaps you out of your thoughts as you shake your head, bringing you back to reality. “Do you want to come home and meet my family?” he excitedly asks you, taking your hands in his as he kisses the backs of them tenderly, looking up at you hopeful for your response.

You couldn’t say no. It would break Fred’s heart. Besides, you were going to have to meet them eventually. With a deep breath, you reply, “Of course I do, Freddie love.”

Fred claps his hands together, “Wicked. Oh, this is bloody brilliant. I’ll have to run back to the shoppe and ring her and tell her to make an extra place setting for tonight.” Fred looks at you, childish joy bubbling in his eyes as you sigh softly, giving him a gentle smile. The look on his face made you fall in love with him all over again. “I can’t wait for them to meet you. They’re gonna love you,” he tells you, holding your face in between his calloused hands as you smile. “Godric, I love you,” he breathes before kissing you quickly. “Okay, I’ve got to get back to the shoppe. But after you’re done with work, go pack a bag, and meet me and George back at our flat. We’ll apparate from there!” 

And with that, Fred is out of the apothecary without another word, leaving you speechless, still sitting on the counter. As you sit there, just puzzled, your co-worker notices your predicament and laughs, “Meeting the family tonight, eh?” 

“Seems like it,” you gulp. 

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

You stood nervously in the living room of the twins’ flat, overnight bag in hand as you nervously nibbled on your fingernails. George yelled things to Fred from his bedroom as the two twins chaotically packed their bags and gathered things for their weekend stay. “Do you think we should bring our own brooms?” Fred boomed from his room.

“No,” George yelled back. “The ones that are in the shed will be just fine.”

Brooms? Should you have brought a broom? Your eyes dart to Fred who emerges from his room, duffel in hand with a large smile on his face. “Should I have brought a broom?” you ask him.

Fred laughs and shakes his head. “No, all you need to bring is your beautiful, wonderful self,” he speaks, kissing your forehead. “Georgie, let’s get this show on the road!”

“Coming, coming!” George bellows before appearing from his room, backpack on with another small bag in his hand. “Would you like to do the honors?” he smiles at Fred.

“Thought you’d never ask, brother,” he beams before pulling his wand from his pocket. “Everyone ready? Got all their things?” Fred looks at George who gives him a confident nod as you feign confidence and give Fred a small smile. “Brilliant...” he trails off before with a flick of his wand and a whoosh.

And suddenly before your eyes, you are not in the flat anymore. Instead, lush green grass is beneath your feet and the smell of rosemary and thyme floats around in the air. Ahead of you stands a proud, tall house that have Fred and George grinning from ear to ear. They were home.

Within seconds, George speaks, “Last one inside carries up all the bags!”

Fred and George are instantly set in a mad dash as you roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You slowly walk behind them, carrying your bag, heart beating hard against your chest. The time was now and there was no avoiding it. 

When you reach the front entrance, George looks at you, “(Y/N)! You didn’t even try!” You laugh and shake your head. “Eh, it’s fine. We’ll force Ron to carry all the luggage upstairs,” George shrugs.

Fred appears and grabs your hand, pulling you inside with a bright smile. “Mum! Dad! We’re home!” Fred calls out before chatter starts blooming from all areas of the house, making your heart race. Fred looks at your nervous eyes and squeezes your hand. “No need to worry. I’m telling you they’re going to adore you.”

First down the stairs is Ginny, the only Weasley daughter. Her eyes land on her two other brothers as she grins widely. “Look what the cat dragged in,” she laughs before George scoops her up in a tight hug, spinning her around as they both laugh wildly. George puts her down only for Fred to do the same thing to his younger sister. “I missed you both so much. Home isn’t the same without you two,” she speaks to her brothers. 

Fred pulls his sister into his side, “We missed you too. Everyday we miss you, little.” Ginny smiles up at her brother. “Gin, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N). (Y/N), meet the littlest Weasley, Ginny.”

“I may be the littlest, but I’ll still kick both of your asses,” Ginny pushes her brother teasingly. Ginny smiles at you widely. “I’ve heard all about you. And by all about you I mean I’ve heard what Fred tells Mum who tells me,” she laughs as you smile. “Can I give you a hug?” she asks.

You smile, “Absolutely.” Ginny embraces you tightly as you smile widely. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Fred and George speak so highly of you.”

Ginny pulls away from her embrace and speaks, “They better.” You laugh. She had the same sense of humors as her brothers. “Your accent is so pretty. Well, I mean, all of you is pretty. Gorgeous, actually. Well done, Fred!” Ginny compliments, making Fred blush a deep crimson. “You could probably do much better than him, you know that?” she teases, making you laugh. You and Ginny would get along just fine.

“Alright, enough of all that,” Fred grabs your hand, pulling you away from Ginny. 

Shortly after Ginny’s arrival follows bumbling footsteps and a voice that says, “Full house already! Bill and Fleur haven’t even arrived. I’m not giving up my bed for anyone, hear me?” George immediately tackles the Weasley brother to the floor, making him cry out. “George, get the bloody hell off of me, you git!”

George laughs, “Aw, I missed you too, Won-Won!”

Fred bursts out into laughter before George climbs off of the tackled brother. “Hey, Ronald,” Fred messes up his brothers hair as Ron shakes his head with a smile. “Missed you.”

Ron smiles at his brothers, “Missed you both too. Although the tackle wasn’t appreciated.” Ron glares at George who gives him a firm pat on the back. “You must be (Y/N),” Ron smiles warmly at you extending his hand for a shake. “Really nice to meet you.”

“You too. Didn’t realize that it was customary for your brothers to attack you when returning home,” you laugh as Ron shakes his head. 

“Neither did I. Every day is a surprise here,” he huffs. “One second, pardon me,” he excuses himself. “’Mione! Fred’s girlfriend is here!” Ron calls up the stairs. “Gin and ‘Mione have been dying for another girl in the house for forever. She’ll be happy to see you.”

You smile at Ron, “Always good to have more girls. Gotta balance out the playing field.” 

As soon as you say that, who you can assume is Hermione along with another boy with jet black hair comes down the stairs, of which you can assume is Harry Potter. Ron was right about Hermione, she was over the moon to have another girl in the house. To quote her, she said, “Thank Godric. Do you know what’s it’s like living with mostly boys? Do you know how many times I’ve almost fall into the toilet because the seat was still up? Too many times, Ronald Weasley!” 

Harry on the other hand was much more soft-spoken, but equally as witty as Ron and Hermione. Again, making a comment based on how you were way out of Fred’s league. “Merlin, Fred, how do you do it?” Harry said. “(Y/N), blink once if you need help,” Harry joked, making Ron and Ginny crack up. You, of course, played along with the joke, blinking three times, making the friends laugh harder.

“Okay, okay, enough of that,” Fred pulls you away. “Percy! Mate!”

Coming from outside was who you assumed was Percy alongside Mr. Weasley. Both of them in work clothes, covered in dirt and such, from working outside. “Freddie! George!” Percy beams before engulfing his two brothers in bear hugs. The sight made your heart warm. The love that this family had for each other was enough to make you melt. “Great to see you again. You’re (Y/N), right? Lovely to meet you. So glad you could come over for the weekend!” Percy shakes your hand excitedly as you smile.

“I’m glad to be here!” you admit, now truthfully. Everyone was so lovely and warm.  Percy steps away so now Mr. Weasley could meet you. “Mr. Weasley, thank you so much for having me. I’m so delighted to meet you and your family,” you beam.

Mr. Weasley gives you the warmest smile you’ve ever seen and grabs one of your hands squeezing it. “We are even more delighted to have you as a guest in our home. Oh, and please don’t call me Mr. Weasley. Arthur is just fine,” he smiles. “Speaking of our home, where is your mother?” Arthur looks the the rest of the group as they shrug. “Molly! Your sons and their guest have arrived!!” Arthur bellows up the stairs.

Seconds later, a glowing older woman starts down the winding staircase in the middle of the home, beaming, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was making their bed with fresh sheets. Now where are my loves?” Mrs. Weasley looks at her twins and tears start to form in her eyes. “Oh, my babies!” she exclaims as Fred and George engulf their shorter mother in a tight hug. “You boys don’t come home enough. I know the business is doing great, but please come home more. We miss you dearly,” she pinches their cheeks lovingly as George kisses his mother’s cheek.

Fred starts, “We miss you, too, Mum. Always.” Mrs. Weasley smiles at her son. “Mum, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Within mere seconds, Mrs. Weasley has scooped you into a hug, squeezing you tight as you giggle at the gesture. “Oh, my dear, it’s so wonderful to meet you at last. I can’t believe Freddie was hiding you from me all this time,” she gushes before holding you at arm’s length. “Beautiful American thing you are! Goodness, Fred, well done!” Fred rolls his eyes, making you giggle.

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Weasley,” you smile warmly at your boyfriend’s mother.

She instantly starts shaking her head, “Oh no, dear. My name is Molly. Not Mrs. Weasley. Please, I insist.” You smile at her with a small blush on your cheeks. It had only been ten minutes, but you felt more at home than ever. “You are just a peach!” she pinches your cheek. “Adorable. You hungry, dear? Cuppa tea? I have dinner in the oven. We’re having roast chicken. Freddie told me that was your favorite meal. Lucky for you, it’s the dish I’m best at,” she whispers the last part to you as you giggle.

This family was doing everything they could to make you feel at home and it was surely working. You felt like you belonged here. Molly linked your arms together, insisting you tell her everything you and Fred had been doing as a couple for the last three months as she made you a cup of tea. “Mum’s already stolen her,” George nudges his twin with a cocky smile. “Good luck trying to get her back.”

But you didn’t mind being stolen off by Molly Weasley. The woman was a delight. She was sweet, kind, and so thoughtful. Molly loved hearing the way you spoke of her son. “You speak of him like he’s the only man on this planet,” she coos as she poured you tea. 

You blush a wild shade of pink. Maybe you had to get used to blushing around the Weasley family. “He’s the only man on this planet for me,” you shrug. “Fred is a proper gentleman, Molly. Really.” Molly rolls her eyes, knowing how abrasive her own son could be. “No, seriously,” you laugh. “All of the boys that I’ve dated are all back in America, sure, but none can hold a candle to Fred. Honestly.”

Molly squeezes your hand, “And I hope it stays that way, my dear. The way that Fred speaks of you is unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him before. Hold onto each other. What you have already is worth it.”

“Thank you,” you squeeze Molly’s hand back. 

The dinner hour soon rolled around which meant the arrival of more Weasleys. As everyone was finding their seat, two more people apparated into the Burrow. “Bill!” Ron exclaimed before engulfing his brother in a hug. Bill stood tall next to a beautiful blonde haired woman who you assume to be his wife, Fleur. The couple was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Fred leaned down next to you. “That’s Bill and his wife, Fleur,” Fred confirmed your thoughts. “Fleur is part Veela. She has a...complicated relationship with my mother and Ginny. But no need to worry, that ship has sailed. She’s actually quite lovely,” Fred tells you as you nod.

Knowing that Molly Weasley didn’t instantly take a liking to everyone made you think about the initial reaction she had to you. It made you feel better how warm she was towards you, even though you wouldn’t wish coldness from the Weasleys on anyone. 

“Bill, Fleur, this is my girlfriend, (Y/N),” Fred introduces you to his brother and his wife. 

Bill shakes your hand with a polite smile. “Nice to meet you,” he beams. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Bill teased his brother.

“Keeping me a secret, eh?” you look at Fred.

“An American girlfriend! Oh, this is brilliant,” Bill laughs. “Looking forward to getting to know you,” he speaks.

You turn to Bill’s wife, Fleur who gives you a small smile. “Nice to see another girl in the ‘ouse,” she beams. “You are quite beautiful,” Fleur beams as you blush yet again. But this time it felt different. A Veela complimenting you on your beauty. “’ow did you manage to get ‘er, Fred?” Fleur keeps the teasing going as he groans.

“Bloody hell, I get it! My girlfriend is gorgeous, and American, and out of my league! Are we eating dinner?” Fred tries to change the subject which just makes everyone else laugh.

Dinner was divine. Molly really knew how to cook and boy, did she make a feast. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, gravy, bread and chocolate cake for desert. Fred had told his mother what you’re favorite foods were and she gladly obliged to making all of them to which you thanked her profusely for. 

Ron leaned back in his seat as the dishes were being magically cleaned. “You should come over more, (Y/N),” he rubs his belly, full of dinner, making you laugh.

Ginny sprung from her seat, pulling Harry up with her. “Well, digest quickly, Ron. The sun is setting and George promised me a game of quidditch before nightfall,” Ginny smirks at her older brother who groans.

“Quidditch? After this meal? What are you trying to do, Gin? Make me have a heart attack?” he complains. “Why can’t we do a morning game?”

“Cause you always sleep through morning matches!” Harry defends Ginny who smiles proudly at him. “Get your lazy arse up and get a broom!”

Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Ron, and Bill all rise from the table and rush to the garden shed to grab brooms. You just laugh along with Fleur and Hermione at the table before you three rise from the table, walking outside to watch the game that would eventually descend into madness. 

Hermione runs ahead of you and Fleur and to the backyard, calling out, “I’ll be score keep!” 

Fleur turns to you and smiles, “’Ow are you feeling? I know the feeling of meeting the family for the first time. Although, I think you and I ‘ad different experiences.”

You give Fleur a knowing smile. “They’re a lovely family. I was very nervous to come here because I didn’t know how they would react to have a complete stranger in their house, but they’re really great. Freddie was right.”

Fleur links your arms together as you walk to a small clearing in the backyard as the lot before you hops on brooms and takes to the skies. “I know I ‘ave my ‘istory with the Weasleys, but they are very good people. Kind people. Genuine. And I know, Fred. I saw the way ‘e looked at you at dinner. The boy loves you very much. And being loved by a Weasley,” she looks up at her husband, laughing on a broom as he pats Freddie’s shoulder, “it’s the greatest feeling in the world. ‘old onto ‘im, (Y/N).”

Your heart swells at Fleur’s words. It was beautiful to see the way she spoke of Bill. How she looked at him. You could only wish that you had that kind of love with Fred. “Thank you, Fleur. That means a lot,” you squeeze her hand. 

The two of you look to the sky to see the lot waiting. “Are you all going to start this game or not? I wanna see some action!” you tease those in the sky as Fleur giggles next to you. “You gonna win for me, Freddie?” you give him a wink.

Fred scoffs, “Of course I am.”

The quidditch game had ended quite quickly after a brief thirty minute game, Harry catching the snitch with ease. “That’s what happens when you challenge the best quidditch player of this generation,” he sticks his tongue out at Ginny who rolls her eyes and shoves her boyfriend inside.

“Wonder what happens if I beat up the best quidditch player of all time,” Ginny speaks as Harry laughs before running up the stairs away from his girlfriend who had just lost the quidditch match.

As the group files back in again, Bill and Fleur make their way upstairs back to his old room. Ron and Hermione scramble into the living room, Hermione challenging Ron to a chess match, giggling as Ron places a sneaky kiss on her cheek, George throwing playful punches at Fred who slaps his bum, running away as George yells at him. Percy, who sits in the recliner groans, “Can you be any louder? I’m trying to read!”

George looks at Fred who has a devilish smile on his cheeks. “Be louder? Alright!” Fred exclaims before he and George link arms and start scream singing a random song that came to their heads, making you shake your head and laugh. 

Percy just leans further back into his chair with a sigh, but there is a small smile on his face as he watches his twin brothers, dance around the living room, occasionally letting a chuckle out here and there. 

You sit on the couch, observing it all take place. To an outside eye, the Weasley house looked chaotic. But really, it was perfectly orchestrated. Everyone had their own thing to do, but still interacted and operated alongside each other without fail. Ron and Hermione quietly playing cheer in the corner, little giggles here and there. Percy reading a book, curled up in the corner. Ginny and Harry running up and down the stairs, in and out of the house. Bill and Fleur upstairs, getting ready for bed. Molly in the kitchen, cleaning up before getting ready to retire to her bedroom where Arthur was surely waiting after finishing the garden work. Fred and George acting like fools in the living room, babbling about the shoppe. The house was like an orchestra, each person playing their part that was very different from the others, but they all clicked together to make beautiful music.

Beside you on the couch, Fred sits and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “First day at the Burrow. How are you liking it?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

You cup his cheek with your hand, brushing your thumb against it. “It’s perfect here. I can see why you love it so much,” you admit as he smiles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “Your family is so sweet. I really adore them already.”

“And they adore you. Mum especially. She was gushing to Dad about you over dinner whilst you talked to Ginny and Harry,” Fred confides in you as your heart swells. His family liking you was all that mattered. “You’re smashing it. But I knew you would,” he shrugs as you giggle. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Kissing his lips gently, you speak, “I’m glad I came.”

----

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff​ @harrysweasleys​ @gcdric​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @lol-idk-oops​ @vogueweasley​

[syndxlla]

Part eleven of the More To Love series

Summary: You get a chance to reflect on who you are, where you are with your relationships, and what you really want in life with the help of your mother, the Queen of Corellia. You meet some new seemingly friends, who quickly prove you otherwise.

Word Count: 7.1k, NO USE OF ‘y/n’

Warnings: Non-consensual kiss, swearing, alcohol

Author’s note: i am LIVID. why tumblr only lets you have a certain amount of paragraphs in a post IDK! it’s dumb haha and the only reason i went over is because there is so much dialogue in this. BASICALLY. I am making the decision to go easy on myself. I know earlier today I said part 11 would be split into two, but i am going to just make the second half be part 12. SO. i made a new moodboard for this chapter! i hope you like it :).

i wanna say a big THANK YOU to @stinky-child for helping me edit this chapter and getting it out on time!

PART 12 WILL BE RELEASED THURSDAY, MAY 27TH AT 6pm PST, 9pm EST.

part ten

Koska escorted you back to your quarters, the castle corridors were finally starting to calm down a little bit, however, more and more special guests who would be staying in the palace over the weekend walked in and out of doors, most of them not paying any attention to you because of your drab attire. You hoped the knight made it to his meeting on time and dry. There was no way to know until tomorrow morning, however. Koska was silent as she walked behind you, her footsteps much lighter than the knight’s. Your hair was thick and frizzy from the effects of the elements, and you kept your face down out of a foreign sense of shame.

Keeping your face down can’t hide that sense of shame from everyone, however, and before you can make it to your room, you’re hearing a joyful gasp and footsteps pattering in your direction. You look up from your walk of shame to see someone very important to you, it’s not your Knight, it’s not even Soniee, no. It’s your mother, the Queen of Corellia. She’s accompanied by three Corellian guards and she’s wearing the most beautiful yellow gown you had ever seen. It was clearly a gift from Bo-Katan. You smiled brightly, relieved to see someone you love. It had only been a few weeks but it felt like an eternity. You had completely forgotten she would be coming to your engagement ball. You’ve been so preoccupied with the plans and teaching the Knight how to dance that it completely slipped your mind. Your mother had a wide smile on her face, too, and wore the traditional Corellian crown. You ran to her and embraced her fighting around the waist, something that was not appropriate for royalty in public like this but you couldn’t care less. You had been so emotionally confused over the last few weeks that there was nothing you needed more than a fulfilling hug from your parent. She hums with joy when you come into her arms, and she runs her slender fingers through your beautiful hair. You sigh of relief in her embrace.

“I had forgotten you were coming.” You admit, holding back tears of relief. She chuckles in response.

“You look a mess.” She replies and you’re the one to chuckle this time.

“I’ve had quite the day.” You smile, blushing as you remember who you spent it with. “Come, I have so much to tell you.” You pull away, holding her hands in yours and then leading her to the closest sitting room. You were finally starting to understand the layout of the Mandalorian palace, it only took two weeks. This room was the same blue as the royal color, you guide her to sit by you on the sofa, and Koska awkwardly follows. You look over to the handmaiden before standing and walking in her direction. “Lady Reeves, you are dismissed.” You nod while speaking in a regal tone, but after stating it, your voice hushes and you whisper to her, “Is he going to be alright?” You ask in reference to the Knight.

She nods once, “Even if he was late, he’s bound to duty by the Queen, he’ll be okay.” Your stomach twists.

“What does that even mean?” You ask, there is much he is not telling you.

Koska sighs, she seemed to regret saying that. “I’ll worry about him, you enjoy your time with your mother.” She nods to the Queen who was patiently awaiting your return. You smile a “thank you” and walk back to the Corellian Queen. When Koska closes the door finally, you slouch into the couch, feeling pure relief as you were alone with your kin.

“You look absolutely exhausted.” Your mother says.

“I am, life here is exhausting. There are so many rules, much more than back at home.” You awkwardly shrug.

“We miss you.”

“I miss you too, more than you know.” You were so homesick these days. “I had to spend four days learning all the rules and customs and I still take private lessons from the literal queen so I don’t embarrass her anymore.” You roll your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t express this arrogance to anyone else in the palace and taking advantage of the chance now.

“Oh, I'm sorry love, I worried that there might be a bit of a culture shock.” She takes your hand with hers, stroking the stop of it with her own cold hands.

“Is father here?” You ask, your eyes hopeful. That glimmer immediately fades when she sighs, her eyes leaving yours. “What? What’s wrong?”

“He’s not coming…”

“What? Why?”

“He’s… sick, I didn’t want to tell you but it’s your right to know. You would have eventually found out anyway.” She somberly explains.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, we think so. But traveling and socializing in his condition was not realistic. We understand that rumors will start, but his health is necessary before an impending war.” She frowns, and you try not to let it upset you too much. “Enough of that, tell me about this place.” Her tone immediately flips.

You smile, “It’s so hot, much hotter than Corellia. I mean the heat is exhausting and the dresses are heavy and the tea parties are always outside and I always feel overheated.” You complain.

“Do you at least like the prince?” She asks. “Is he cute?”

Now you must choose if you’re going to lie, like you have for the last fortnight, or be truthful with the only person you feel that you can be. You sigh, and just look at her, defeated, hoping that would be enough to tell her.

She hums empathetically. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah…” You sigh, happy she understood and you didn’t have to make the decision of communication.

“Well, keep your head up, I didn’t really like your father all that much until we had you.” She chuckles.

“What?” You ask, your eyes showing surprise. “I had no idea…” You weren’t sure how much you liked that thought, your parents had always been an example of a couple you’d like to experience for yourself. “Why had you never told me?”

“There was no reason for you to know before now. The older you get, the more you’ll learn what you need to hear.” She explains. You supposed she was right. “And remember, it’s supposed to be a partnership—marriage that is— it’s not so bad if you work at it.”

“Well, he certainly likes being solo.” You humph. “He’s very kind, and it’s clear he cares for his kingdom but-“ You knew you weren’t being completely truthful with her.

“But what?”

You debated your next words. You wanted to tell her, more than anything you wanted your mother to know what was really going on, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew she wouldn’t understand. This marriage is a diplomatic solution to an oncoming war of her home kingdom. She wouldn’t understand the strife. “Nothing.” You feel untruthful to yourself, but you can’t do anything about it. “I just feel like I will be unhappy in our marriage.”

“Marriage isn’t supposed to make you happy.”

You hated that, it wasn’t the first time she had said it to you, either. When an arranged marriage was first brought up, she said it then for the first time. The other time she said it to you was about three weeks ago, just before you were going to leave Corellia and come to this ornate prison. It was your last attempt to try and get out of it, but she uttered those words and you had to live with it.

This time, you pulled your hand away from hers. “But what about love? I thought you loved my father!?”

“I do love him, but that didn’t happen for a long time, like I said, not until you were born.”

“So then what’s the reason for all this? For sending me here for a big ball and a fancy wedding if I am not supposed to love the man I’m sharing these parties with? How am I to enjoy marriage before children then?” You stand up on these words out of frustration. You hated feeling like your only purpose in this world is to bear children, to produce an heir.

“Love between royals is not a natural thing, it can’t just happen between any two people. There must be that connection there and it often isn’t developed for a while.” She chuckles. “What? Did you think you were going to live inside one of those fairytales your wet nurse used to tell you before you went to sleep?” She asks, looking up at you, surprised.

“What do you mean ‘between royals’?”

“We must do what’s best for our people, it’s selfish to marry for love when you are royalty.”

You feel defeated.

“No… No, there's so much more to love. Love is not selfish, in fact, I believe that loving someone with our hesitation and unconditionally is the most selfless act one could ever do.” Your voice raises just a bit. You meant every word you said.

“If you feel this way about love, then surely you must love the Prince. What’s the problem then? We’ve been preparing you for this reality for years, it’s not a new concept that you would not love immediately, I can only imagine you would feel so emotionally because you have those feelings for someone.”

Did you?

You consider what she was saying, your eyes trailing to the side as you thought. You supposed she was right, there would be no reason for you to feel so passionately about it if you hadn’t experienced it for yourself.

But you weren’t having that experience with Korkie, the hell you weren’t.

Did you love the Knight? You don’t know his name, you don’t know his face, you don’t know anything about him and yet you are starting to think that infatuation has grown into adoration. Your legs feel weak, and you have to slowly lower yourself onto the couch again, feeling woozy from the realization. How did you let it get so far? Your confused face turns to look at your mother’s, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“I sense you realized something you didn’t already know.”

You slowly nod your head. Unsure of how to react, you fiddle with your fingers, trying to gain your bearings again. You expect your mother to speak up but she never does.

Before the conversation continues, however, the door is pulled open and three Knights are walking in, a Butler steps in, “Her Majesty, The Queen.” He says before nodding and stepping away. Bo-Katan glides into the room, regal as ever. You and your mother stand up from where you sat, curtsying for your hostess.

“Your Majesty.” She takes your mother’s hand, both of them smiling and kissing one another on either cheek. “I trust your travels were comfortable?”

“Yes, your coachmen were very hospitable.” Your mother nods.

Korkie then enters the rooms with another young Prince who you hadn't met before. He was blonde, and skinny as a twig. He wore a white and gold ceremonial cloak that covered his right shoulder. You smile at Korkie out of Obligation, and he and the other prince bow to the women in the room.

“Princess!” Korkie cheers, “This is my cousin, Prince Hugo of Bespin.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” He takes your hand and kisses the top of it, his smile charming and blue eyes bright. You were flattered by the gesture, humming.

“The pleasure is mine.” You follow royal protocol. Then, another woman enters the room. She’s tall, an intricate headpiece adorns long, black hair and she has hypnotic, black eyes hidden by deep set, hooded eyes. She’s beautiful, with toned skin and red dots drawn under her lips making her stand out from everyone in the room.

“Ah, Her Majesty Queen Clarya of Naboo.” Bo-Katan introduces. The Elven Queen Ahsoka then enters the room, and everyone, even the Queens bow out of respect before the door is closed. The parlor is suddenly very full, and your intimate moment with your mother is lost entirely. You are suddenly very aware of your disheveled look, and try to run your fingers through your hair a few times.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Clarya says, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Taking your hand and giving you a friendly squeeze.

“Oh… I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about you.” You apologize.

“No troubles, You are all the gossip among the other Kingdoms.” The eastern queen explains.

“Yes, It appears you are.” Korkie says, moving to stand by your side. “How wonderful that my beautiful wife-to-be is regarded so highly across the world.” He tries to take your hand but you pull it away, not necessarily meaning to, but it was a reflex that you failed to suppress after realizing you were in love with an entirely different man. He clears his throat, and the aura in the room is awkward, you aren’t sure what to do, so you just say the first thing to come out of your mouth.

“Have any of you gone to the beach? It’s lovely!” You awkwardly smile before walking over to the drink cart underneath a portrait of a Manda’lor of a past generation. You try to ignore all the people, feeling a little embarrassed that they were all seeing you dressed like this. You didn’t even think of what suspicion could be born out of that phrase.

“Oh yes, our sandy beaches are widely loved by all.” Bo-Katan takes a seat on the sofa in the place you had sat at just moments before, crossing her ankles under her gown. You shakily pour amber liquid into a crystal glass, your hand shaking as you bring it to your lips, taking a sip of the alcohol.

“Nothing like the Corellian beaches, I assume?” Your mother asks. “Our beaches are rocky and often frozen over.”

“Ah yes, but the Corellian ship fjords are lovely, what a wonderful exposure to culture you raised your daughter with!” Ahsoka sings.

“She turned out alright.” Your mother teases and everyone chuckles warmly. You turn around after drinking, and sheepishly smile. Gods you hope she meant that.

“Well, we are all very excited for the ball tomorrow.” Clarya says, “My assistant worked on a mask for hours the night before we left. It will be an extravagant sight to see everyone dressed so festively.”

“Of course, but we all know none of us can compare to the fashion and extravagance of the Naboolians.” Korkie hums. Everyone chuckles again. You nervously looked out to all of them, you had just made possibly the biggest mistake of your life and none of them paid any attention to you despite it. You had just shown Korkie your first and only sign of true disinterest the night before your engagement ball and you desperately wished you could go back in time and take his hand instead of denying the act of affection, even if you didn’t feel good about it.

“I think you will all be pleased to hear that it was the Princess who came up with the Masquerade idea.” Bo gestures to you. You smile with your teeth, trying to act normal and not like you were secretly dying inside. There is general amusement when that is said, and you can’t help but fidget with the crystal alcohol glass, wanting to leave the room and return to the comfortable embrace of the Knight on the beach.

“Beautiful and smart!” Korkie’s cousin laughs, putting emphasis on the ‘and’. “It’s not every day you find a woman like that!” Everyone laughs again, and this time you force out a faux chuckle to seem more involved in the eyes of the others. “You better hang onto her, Kork!” Korkie smiled at his cousin's words, looking over to you. You feel weak, not liking all the attention. If this much attention was making you feel this way, what would the ball with hundreds of guests tomorrow night be like?

“Yes but, I can’t seem to remember going to the beach with you?” Korkie asks, his diplomatic voice cutting through the laughter. You nervously laugh. He knew something was up. How could you be so careless?

“What? Did I say something about the beach?” You try to play it off cluelessly.

“Oh come on, we all know you aren’t that ditzy.” His cousin groans

“Your fiance asked you a question, dear.” Your mother prods.

“Yes, did you go to the beach sometime during your time here?” Bo-Katan is the one to ask this time, and your legs are starting to feel unsteady.

“It’s not a bad thing, we just want to know.” Korkie takes a step in your direction, making you feel closed in. “We all love the beach here and we are happy you have gotten the chance to enjoy it.” You sensed there was an undertone with his true meaning.

You weren’t sure if you believed him when he said this, “Is it hot in here?” You chuckle, “I think I’ll have another drink, would you like one, Korkie? You ask before turning around and pouring another glass of brandy. He can see how shaky your hand is as you try to fill the cup. He stands behind you, wrapping his arm around you and cupping your hand with his in an attempt to make the pouring more steady. The action startles you, and you flinch as a reaction, dropping the crystal glass in your hand. It was already partially full, and it falls down to the floor in slow motion, golden drink splashing out of it as glass shatters on impact, making a loud, crashing sound that sends shards out across the floor and leaves a puddle of alcohol to soak into the bottom hem of Koska’s sister’s dress. The women of the room gasp from shock, and Hugo walks quickly over to see the mess. You look down at the glass in shock of what you just did, your heart sinking and stomach churning. Lady Tano is the next one to walk over to you, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you to one of the arm chairs, helping you sit down. The room was deathly silent now, you could hear your pulse ringing through your ears. Ahsoka crouches before you, ruling your hand with hers and trying to comfort you from the unexpected shock. Korkies hands are balled into fists. Was he angry with you?

“No worries.” Hugo laughs, trying to be an entertainer, “Butler!” The Butler opens the door.

“Is everything alright?” He asks after bowing.

“Yes, we just made a little mess, would you be so kind as to clean it up?” Hugo walks Korkie, who seems to be just as shocked and embarrassed as you, over to another armchair. The butler snaps and then whistles and three young maids come in, each one getting on their hands and knees to pick up the pieces of glass.

“Princess?” Your mother says, “Do you have something you would like to say to the Manda’lor?” She awkwardly asks, clearly trying to make good from the situation, side-eying Bo.

Your pale face turns to look at Bo, who had that same disappointed frown that you always see on her.

“My deepest apologies, your Majesty.” You clear your throat before painfully looking over to where Korkie sat, his hand resting in his palm and expression down turned.

“Well!” Hugo takes the center of the room. “No use in sitting here in silence, mistakes happen! Right Auntie?” He says to Bo.

“Of course.” She smiles, physically accepting your apology with a reassuring nod.

“Lovely, would anyone like some music?” He asks.

“That would be lovely, Hugo.” Lady Tano says in her ethereal voice. He smiles and walks over to the baby grand piano in the corner of the room, the same baby grand that you played at for your Knight a few weeks ago.

“The Princess plays!” Your mother says, trying to alleviate any tension.

“She does?” Hugo makes direct eye contact with you. “Would you like to play a duet with me?”

“Hugo, she just-“ Ahsoka begins but is interrupted by your mother.

“Oh won’t you play for us Dear?” She asks, smiling.

“Please! I have wanted to hear you play since I was told you could.” Bo-Katan asks. It would be rude to decline a request from the Queen and the Host of the night.

You nod and stand up, that could be just the thing you need to feel better. You walk over to the piano, stopping just before Hugo.

“Bass or Soprano?” He asks, muttering so quietly that only you can hear it.

“Soprano.” You say. He pulls the bench out and sits first since he would be playing the lower part. You then sit next to him, your hands still slightly shaking.

“Do you know the ‘Dathomirian Waltz’?” He asks. You nod. “Lovely, key of D minor then, I’ll follow you.” He pulls his hands up to the keys, and you follow, taking two deep breaths, the first to calm your shaking hands, the second to conduct both of you in at the same time. Together you play a set of intricate chords, Hugo emphasizing on the bass notes, playing a complex scale that brought his left hand over his right several times. You carry the melody, playing just slightly louder than him and allowing yourself to fall into the trance of performing. Your hands finally quit shaking after a few phrases of the music, allowing it to soothe your nerves. Music has always done that for you. All of the nobles in the room smile, the Naboolian Queen sighing at the beauty of the complicated piece. You can’t keep the smile from pulling on your lips. Korkie’s cousin was very talented, much better than you. His hand brushed against yours several times and you couldn’t help yourself from thinking about the Knight when Hugo touches you.

This was something you would never get with him. You would never get to share a memorable moment with others, never get to rub hands against each other in front of three Queens, never get to look one another in the eye without shame or secrecy. The thoughts start to overcome your consciousness, causing you to play a sour note. No one seemed to notice, but you were more aware of it than you should have been.

A beautiful piece, carefully composed and rehearsed, performed with the intent to dazzle, the intent to impress. However there will always be the sour note, an incorrect chord that the audience might not hear but those giving the show will dwell on undoubtedly.

Like the Kingdom of Mandalore.

——————————————

“Rise and Shine your Highness!” A sing-songy voice calls out to you before pulling the long, draping curtains apart and letting the warm Mandalorian sun pour into the room. You groan and flip over onto your side, your body is still exhausted from yesterday evening and you would like to sleep in a little longer.

“Oh, don’t give us that.” A more brash voice groans and you recognize it as Koska’s. You can hear a number of other bodies file into the suite, maybe three or four. The handmaid's pull in the elven dress and a light breakfast. You can still smell the salt water on your forearm as you swing your hand over your eyes. You were not a morning person. Koska walks up to your bed before sitting on the edge of it, placing her tan hand on your shoulder. “We’ve let you sleep in long enough, we have to get you dressed and ready for tea with the Queens.”

“Queens?” You mumble, slurring the ‘s’ out.

“Yup, both Bo-Katan and your mother as well as the Queen of Naboo and Duchess of the Felucian mountain Kingdom are all eager to spend brunch with you in the Garden.” More guests arrived this morning while you were still sleeping, but it wasn’t until Koska explained to you about the women waiting for you that you remembered what day it was. You opened your eyes wide, flopping your arm onto the mattress beside you and looking up at her drowsily.

“The masquerade is today.” You say out of realization. She smirks and slowly nods her head. Soniee budges into your conversation, sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

“We have two dresses for you to wear today! This one,” She pulls forward a gown that isn’t quite as full and round as the dress for the ball, but is still a lovely dress with a pretty skirt and pearls embroidered into the bodice. “And of course the elf dress.” She nods to the pink and gold gown that sat on a sewing-bust, shimmering in the light. “We won’t get you into the ball gown until later tonight.” She hums.

“Now, we have to get you cleaned up, your hair is a mess.” Koska stands up and pulls the heavy down comforter from off of you. The loss of warmth elicits another sleepy groan from your lips and you stare up at the ladies in waiting frustratedly. “Up!” Koska’s serious voice commands and you’re scared enough of her that you jump up out of bed, pulling the nightgown sleeve up that has been slowly slipping down your shoulder and showing more and more skin. “That’s better.” Koska hums, “Let’s get you a bath, yeah?” She walks towards the bath room, opening the golden gilded doors and into the naturally-light room. You will always admire the beauty and effort put into the Mandalorian palace despite the internal battle with living here. You follow her into the room, still sleepy and walking slowly but eventually making it to the tub in the center of the room. The bath has already been drawn, which they must have done in your sleep (they’ve never done that before). You strip out of the cream-colored nightie and dip into the warm water. It smelled of lavender and honey and you allowed your muscles to relax into the bubbles. It was perfect, exactly what you needed to clear your racing and stressful mind. Your muscles were sore from yesterday and the warm water and flowery oils soaked them blissfully. You sigh at the sensation but before you can enjoy it anymore, Koska is dumping the warm water over your head, wetting it completely. It’s unexpected and you gasp from shock, your eyes glued shut to keep the water out of them. Damp hands come up from out of the water to wipe your eyes but then another dump of water is pouring over your head and you’re back at square one. Koska was a much harsher bather than Sonnie was.

All is forgiven however when she starts massaging your scalp, cleaning your hair. You relax back into the tub and enjoy the seawater and wind getting rinsed out. The other ladies come in, one on either side of the tub who files your nails, and Sonnie brings in a towel and silk robe. The other handmaiden works at your calloused feet with a pumice stone and you try not to let it tickle too much. It was true pampering and you loved every second of it. Usually there’s only one maiden to bathe you but five was divine. You assumed this was the treatment the Queen always received.

After you are properly cleaned, your Corellian tea is brought in and you’re left alone for as long as you like. You slowly sip on the purple shaded drink, waking up from it’s comforting properties. You sigh deeply, allowing the fragrant air to fill your lungs while you look out of the tall, narrow window in the center of the outside wall. You could not see the ocean from here, but instead the distant roofs of Keldabe. It was a beautiful summer day, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and you could hear the birds who have nested in the nooks and crannies of the towers chirping. You knew you had a long day ahead of you, and you wanted to try and enjoy it as much as you could. You never really enjoyed the social aspect of royalty, and that’s all today will be, but you’re ready to brave it head on.

An hour passes before you are finally dressed in the first gown of the day. Your hair is braided back so that it will have a desirable wave for the ball tonight. You are snuggly tied into the pearled bodice of the dress, and you run your hands up and down the beading, allowing it to tickle your soft palms.

Koska pulls open the door, and you’re expecting to see the Knight standing there stoically as always, but he isn’t. The hallway is completely empty, in fact, and you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that overcomes your body. Where was he?

You clear your throat, and look back at Koska, who was adjusting the skirt of your gown as you walked.

“Where is he?” You ask, your voice hushed almost to a whisper but not quite. There were a million possibilities behind his absence and not a single one of them was ideal. Koska lifts up from her crouched position, smoothing the front pleats of her dress.

“What?” She asks and you sigh out of frustration, there was absolutely no way she didn’t know what you were talking about but you had to be vague because of all the ladies in waiting listening in.

“Who will be accompanying me to the garden?” You say with a forceful tone, trying to prod at a deeper meaning to the question.

Luckily, Lady Reeves picks up on it, and she looks behind you. You felt like she was avoiding eye-contact and it only made you more stressed and confused. “I’ll be escorting you, Highness.” She nodded, moving a step forward and then taking the lead down the corridor. You follow hesitantly, and wait until you are far enough down the hall from the other ladies back in your suite to speak again.

“Don’t horseshit me.” You mutter behind her. She keeps her chin up high as usual. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he.”

Koska doesn’t answer.

“Koska, you promised me he would be okay.” You try not to let the emotion show through your tone but that was a challenge. You felt guilty for some reason. If he was in trouble, it would be entirely your fault. The words shake in your throat and maybe it’s the tight corset and the fact that you are descending the stairs but you’re out of breath and it’s hot, so hot.

“He’s fine, I swear to the stars.” She whispers, saying it straight forward instead of turning back at you in an attempt to stay calm and unsuspecting to watchful eyes.

“Well then why didn’t you tell me that?” You ask, twiddling your thumbs.

“I couldn’t… there’s more to it but-“

“But what? What could be so secretive that you have to keep it from your future queen?” You say through gritted teeth and immediately after, Koska is spinning around on the staircase and looking up at you with a furrowed brow. You felt like you were being scolded by an impatient tutor despite the fact that you out-ranked her.

“You don’t even want to be the Queen.” She says in a whisper-shout, starting to sound as angry and emotional as you were just moments before.

“You’re right, I don’t-“ You bite back.

“So why are you here, then?”

You aren’t sure how to answer, the obvious answer is for Corellia. You were promised something in return for your ability to produce an heir and look like a porcelain figurine on a high shelf. But you also knew it would make your family happy, and your Kingdom. You would be making them proud by marrying so rich. You made a promise.

But now you think you’re starting to stay for an entirely different and unethical reason. Something that is inherently a trap and you know it, and yet here you are, fussing over it at every change you have.

Koska rolls her eyes and scoffs before continuing down the stairs.

“Who spit in your porridge this morning?” You reply.

“You did.” She groans in response.

“I’m sorry, but what did I ever do to you?” You ask when you complete the steps down and start down another corridor, one section of the massive palace closer to your destination.

Koska is the one not to answer this time.

It infuriates you that everyone is keeping secrets from you, your entire experience in Mandalore feels built on deception and being left-out. And now, the two people who finally seemed to be on your side aren’t with you in one way or another on such a big day. Koska is angry with you for no reason and you have no idea where your knight is.

The rest of the walk to the Gardens is silent, and before you know it, you are plopped down on an uncomfortable wicker chair in the hot sun, sipping on lukewarm lemon tea and wondering how much longer you have to suffer. Your mother and Bo were giggling about something, the rest of the court buzzing with conversation and ignoring you as always. Was it possible that you were the problem? You ask yourself this after another sip of the tea, a lemon slice bumping up against your upper lip a few times. As you think, you hold the dainty cup against your mouth, losing yourself in thought without realization. Your pretty eyes stare down at the green grass of the Garden. The grass never gets green back home.

You start subconsciously bouncing your leg as you thought to yourself. Everyone seemed to ignore expect for Korkie and your Knight— who both want to fuck you. Maybe that was the only desirable thing about you. This wasn’t the first time you felt insecure about the relationship you have developed with the Knight. He’s so quiet, so different from you. Were you falling for a trick?

Was he?

Tea must have gone by fast because just before the pearls of your dress start to burn against your arms from the heat exposure, you’re excusing yourself and wandering back inside.

“Strange girl.” One of the noble ladies says to Bo when you walk away. You don’t hear it, you can’t hear anything except for your deafening thoughts.

“Are you sure she’s the one for your nephew?” Another asks. If you had known your mother was silent for all of this in fear of losing her reputation or even the deal between Corellia and Mandalore, you would have been furious.

“Well his father was an outcast, too.” One chuckles. “I guess you Kyrze’s attract the wallflowers.” A few hummed in amused response.

“Well his father wasn’t just an outcast, he was a downright scandal-“

“My sister loved him, and that is all that matters.” Bo interrupts. The laughter quickly dies out.

“Don’t tell me you believe in love, too.” One laughs.

“You aren’t married, what could you know of love?” The same one bo interrupted says.

“I do believe in love, which is why I am not married.” The Queen reiterates. “And I don’t think she’s the right fit for my Nephew, she’s too… outspoken. He needs someone who won’t outshine him.” They chuckle again, all do but your mother, who is still meekly silent.

“Well with the engagement Ball tonight, it is far too late to back out now.” One teases, and the laughter only grows.

Bo-Katan stares in the direction you left.

You huff down the hall, your arms folded and neck sweaty from the heat. You are looking back and forth, studying the layout of the hall in search of something. You’re looking for the smallest idea of where the knight could be but you aren’t very successful.

While all the fully armored guards of the Mandalorian palace are dressed identically, you are almost certain you would be able to spot your boy in a crowd of a thousand of them. You aren’t sure why, but there is something different about him, something that sticks out from the rest. Somehow you two were connected, and it made it so he was always plaguing your mind, even when you are with your literal fiance. Even when you are far away from him and have no clue where he is for the first time in two weeks.

Separation Anxiety.

You aren’t watching where you’re going, which makes you run into a tall, lanky boy. You yelp out in apologetic surprise, looking up at the person blocking your stressed search. A blonde boy flips around to look at you and you’re half expecting to see Korkie but it isn’t.

His Cousin, Hugo, looks down at you with his same charming smirk as always.

“Princess!” He bows.

“My apologies, Hugo!” You exclaim.

“Oh please, you are perfectly fine. You looked distressed? I hope It was not something I did?”

“Of course not!” You reassure, awkwardly smiling. “Uh- may i ask what you were doing in the center of the corridor?”

He chuckles, “Admiring this art.” He nods to an expansive, framed oil painting on the wall. It was of a tall man with a long face and alarming smirk. What stuck out to you, however, was that he held in both hands the same black sword from the royal portraits upstairs by the war room.

“The art is beautiful here.” You smile.

“Yes, my Aunt Satine worked hard to make it culturally rich.”

“Did you know her?”

“Yes, I am a bit older than Korkie, and I knew her for several years before she passed.”

“Are you… second in line?”

“I am.” He says with a classic amused smirk.

“So maybe you can answer a question for me, then.” You ask as you look up at the art. “What in the world is that?” You ask in reference to the blade.

“That, my foreign Princess, is the Dark Sword of Mandalore.”

“The what?” You cluelessly ask.

“A sacred weapon that the rightful ruler possesses, it’s rather powerful.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You look up at it in awe.

“Hah, yes. It is made of pure obsidian. The white is enchanted quartz veins. It is practically invincible, an elven Mand’alor forged it when he was just a boy.”

“What? There were Mandalorians who were part elf?” You ask, your eyes peeling off of the art and onto your companion.

He looks at you almost confused, “There is much you do not know about my Kingdom?”

“No… I’m afraid not.” You shamefully admit.

“Most don’t,” He shrugs and returns to the conversation unbothered, “It’s history is rather complicated.”

The two of you were quiet for a long time. Your eyes were glued to the stern face of the man in the portrait. You wondered who he was. Hugo is the first to speak up.

“You played beautifully last night.” You doubted he didn’t notice the incorrect notes and mistakes you made several times, maybe he was just being polite by ignoring them. You turn to look at him and smile kindly.

“As did you.” You return the compliment. He looks at you, and you must have been distracted by something other than him because you weren’t aware that his eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips.

Hugo forces a kiss on you.

Just like how Korkie did a few weeks ago in the library. It’s fast because you angrily pull away just as fast as he placed it on you.

“What?” You say like an idiot, looking up at him in shock.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t feel it?” He gets defensive immediately. The worst part is that it wasn’t even that bad of a kiss, much softer than Korkies, but nowhere as tender as the kisses the Knight would lay on you in the water or behind a closed door. Your entire body seemed to seize up, and you couldn’t get any words out. Not any words that you wanted to say. You just looked up at him, vulnerable and confused. He leans down to do it again but you’re able to turn your head to the side, keeping his lips off of you.

“I am… in love with another man.” You say, clearing your throat.

“You and I both know that isn’t my cousin.”

No use denying it at this point, “yes, but I am still engaged to him. I cannot just be disloyal to the future Mand’alor.” You mutter, embarrassed but trying to keep your cool. You knew you were lying, because you weren’t staying loyal to Korkie. No, you were outright cheating on him and you were falling in love with the boy you were cheating with. You were falling in love. You were very exposed, after all. Anyone could turn the corner or look through the windows and see you. It was different this time, however. Usually hiding your kisses are exciting, but that was only with the Knight. “Please,” You voice betrays you, and the emotional shake is heard through your clenched jaw, “Excuse me.” You push passed him frustratedly, making sure to shove him over a little with your shoulder. You angrily walk back to your room, finally getting there without help for the first time.

When you turned down the Corridor to your suite, you were hoping to see the beskar-clad boy who held you last night, but he still wasn’t there. You hold back emotional tears, but not seeing the one who brings the most comfort to you makes you break. Two crystal tears roll down your cheeks.

You have been taken advantage of too many times in this forsaken castle.

You pull open the door, the golden afternoon light reflecting warmly off of the gold-leafed furniture and decorations is a stark contrast from the bleak hallway. Your bed has been made, and things have been tidied up since you were in here last. You flop onto the mattress, your arms stretched out from your sides, looking up at the sheer canopy above where you lay.

Two hours pass. You think you fell asleep but you cannot remember. If you did, no dreams were had.

Soniee opens your door with trepidation after two soft knocks, “Princess, It is time to prepare for the ball.” Her voice is so timid. You twist your head to look at her, the other ladies from this morning were behind her. Koska was not with them.

You sit up from the bed, rubbing a crook in your neck from how you were laying...

—

authors note (again): i know this isn’t the best chapter ending but ya know... IT WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE

Anyways..... see you tomorrow? i guess? haha

Taglist: @remmysbounty @snow30285 @what-iwish-you-knew @softly-sad @carbonated-beverage @frogllady @baileys-corner @song-of-sea-and-sky @leaiorganas @weirdowithnobeardo @ginger-swag-rapunzel @bewitchedbodyandsol l @mograh @justavolcano @theokatz @lowkeytesss @hallway5 @dat-girl-in-corner @news4bees @istealyof00d @songofcosplay @waffles4lif3 @mcueveryday @310ra @thatonedindjarinfan @songofseraphine @callmekane @theelilbritt @bbwithaknife @firstofficerwiggles @jedi-jesi @ironbabey @minttchipp @bel-ppa @honey-hi @cp11 @venomous-ko @bbwithaknife @lunatic-sunsets @1800-fight-me @foundtheavacados @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @florenceivy @theanothersherlockian @spideysimpossiblegirl @mandomistress @floraandfrost @paradoxpictures @stinky-child

“if you are included in the taglist, you are expected to interact with the post you are tagged in (ex. reblogs, comments and notes), if I notice that you are not interacting with the applicable post, you will be removed from the taglist”

—

part twelve