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bluesylveon2 · 3 years

Text

My My I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

A/N: Is it too late to say that Sasha’s wedding takes place in the first week of August? (edit: I realized my mistake and I fixed it) Tbh this chapter is short and just filler BUT it does set up what will happen in the next few chapters. You could say it helps with the subplot. I did make a few edits to the fic, especially last chapter because I’m nit-picky like that.

Need to catch up? Catch up here!

Ch 8: Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

2 months before the wedding

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Kalokairi, and Hanami could not agree more as she sips her coffee in front of the Swell Cafe Bar.

The smell from her coffee was wafting her nose, the warm sunlight on her sun-kissed skin, the beautiful view, and the slight breeze that moved her sundress a bit were perfect for her.

She tapped her foot to the music playing in the background. The owners were playing an old 80's jazz song. Hanami wasn't familiar with it, but she liked listening to the beat. She also noticed the waiter shyly glancing at her every now and then as he worked.

Aw, she thought. It seems like he's too shy to walk up to her. He kept subtly glancing at her since she sat down.

Hanami looks in the man's direction and gives him a bright smile and a small wave, causing the guy to blush and look away with embarrassment for getting caught.

Hanami chuckles to herself. She considered winking at him, but she didn't want the poor guy to blush much.

She rests her head on her palm, and her gaze returns back to the sea. She reflects on what has happened in the past few months.

2 months ago, during Easter break, Jean approached her with a plan to win over Mikasa. At the time, Hanami was unsure if he would be able to pull it off. Everyone knows how much Mikasa likes (is that even the right word?) Eren. Yet, everyone knows about Jean’s huge crush on Mikasa.

She only agreed after Jean offered to pay for everything during their "meet-ups" (she insisted that they take turns instead and Jean agreed), assist her with her Maid of Honor duties for the wedding when she had to go back to college (Hanami did her best to exclude him from anything related to Sasha’s dads), and do any other favors for a year. Hanami knew Jean was serious after the conditions.

You see, Hanami used to not like Jean back in high school. He was cocky, arrogant, and annoying (at least to her and (not)surprisingly, Eren). Hanami made sure to express her dislike for him. However, Jean changed after an incident when Marco broke his right leg and Jean was too late to stop it. He became more mature and considerate of his friends. As a result, both he and Hanami decided they could be friends, and everything went from there.

And so, Hanami agreed with one condition: Jean must teach her how to dance.

The reason being is Hanami’s Austrian friends invited her to one of the many balls held during ball season in Austria. Everyone in Hanami’s friend group knows she cannot dance, especially in heels.

Luckily for her, Jean was the only available guy with a decent enough dance experience to teach her.

(All the guys agreed that Jean was the best dancer of all of them. Eren is a close second.)

The two would sometimes bicker, but they had each other's backs. They define their friendship as comfortable, per se; they were comfortable enough to actually kiss each other to get out of a sticky situation.

Hanami could remember an incident a few days ago when Sasha decided that the two, plus her and Niccolo, to take a trip to Skiathos to take a break from all the wedding plans. They had settled for a party at a local beach bar at night. Skiathos is known as a party island after all. Niccolo and Sasha had separated from the group to swim in the sea, so Jean offered to buy Hanami a drink since they were alone.

About 10 minutes had passed since and Jean did not return, so Hanami went out to find him. She did not expect to find him at a table near the bar surrounded by girls without holding any drinks. Despite how cocky Jean looks, he cares about personal space and making sure his friends are ok. He would hate it if someone decided to harass Hanami while he was gone.

The girls were getting a bit too close to him, so Hanami decided to step in. She strutted to his side while ignoring the other girls and proclaimed how much she missed him. She then grabs his hand and subtly squeezes it, to which he squeezes it back, giving her permission to do what she was about to do.

Jean had turned to face Hanami, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close to his body. Hanami looks up at him and grabs the collar of his shirt with both hands. She pulls him down for a kiss while ignoring the other girls who were still present. She wrapped her arms around her neck, while Jean's hands played with the hem of her cover-up. It was nothing sweet and cute like what normal couples do. Their kiss was more heated and was enough for the other girls to leave them alone.

They never brought it up again just for their own sakes. Jean and Hanami made an agreement to help each other by acting as if they were dating as practice for Mikasa. Hence why they kissed during the party. The two even agreed to squeeze each other’s hands as a sign if they were comfortable to proceed. Jean had no experience with dating, and Hanami had one boyfriend back in high school. She had more experience with dating than him.

(Hanami only mentioned that Jean had improved on his kissing skills and left it at that).

Hanami continues looking at the view as she waits for Jean. Apparently, he requested that they meet up one more time, and this is very important. Hanami questioned why this meeting was important. Did they not cover everything in the plan? Is there a plot hole they might have missed? She does not turn her head when she hears the man of the hour heading in her direction.

“You’re late. If you came any later, then I would go on a date with the waiter instead,” she teases and turns around to fully face him. He wore a white long-sleeve button-up shirt that he rolled up the sleeves. He also had on slacks and a pair of dress shoes. She found it strange that he decided to dress nicely when it was only 10 am. Usually, he dresses in casual clothes. She eyes the camera in his hands.

Jean sits in the chair across from her and places the camera on the table. “This is not a date, Hanami.” He dismissed with no hint of a laugh anywhere. “I’ve-” he hesitates for a second. “-been thinking about something lately.”

“Oh,” Hanami says and leans forward a bit. She noticed his hesitation and folded her hands on top of the table. She gestures to the camera on the table, “What’s with the camera?”

"I’m just practicing for school. I need to take a picture of something I admire and paint it for the school's art exhibit."

Hanami chuckles. "Too bad Mikasa is not here. She is the perfect subject for your painting."

Jean shifts around in his seat uncomfortably. Hanami notices but does not ask about it out loud. Why did he look uncomfortable? She thought he would at least agree with her.

"About that..the plan with Mikasa..." He trails off, sounding almost uncertain and confused.

"What’s up?." Hanami asks and raises an eyebrow. She was taken aback. Did Jean notice a hole in their plan? She sits up and stares at him intensely. She's getting the answer one way or another.

“Did we miss something with the plan?”

Hanami knew that Mikasa would not arrive at Kalokairi until days before or maybe the day before the wedding. Jean’s plan was a long shot. Who knows if Mikasa would fall for him in such a short amount of time. Then again, they have been friends for a while now.

“No...It’s nothing,” He says dismissively. Hanami raises an eyebrow. Jean was never this jumpy during their past meet-ups. She is not one to pry, but something is clearly on Jean’s mind and he was the one who insisted on meeting up today. Looks like she might have to play a secret weapon.

“Ohhhkayyy,” she says, holding out the word. She slumps in her seat, feigning disappointment.

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of the plan? It would be a shame to put all that time to waste.” Suddenly, she smiles a wicked smile.

“Don’t you agree, Jeanbo?”

Jean breaks out of his trance and looks at Hanami with shock. He was speechless. Jean could name only two people from his friend group who knew his childhood nickname. Marco, for obvious reasons, and Armin. Armin found out on accident and promised Jean not to tell anyone. How did she know?

Checkmate.

“How do you know that?” Jean asks with a hint of fear.

Hanami places her elbows on the table and rests her hands on her head. “How did I know?” She smiles slyly and raises her eyebrows.

“I met your mother last summer when Sasha and I were visiting Annie in Paris. Sasha wanted to take a road trip around France, and we ended up in Strasbourg as a stop for some sightseeing. You should’ve seen how shocked we were to find your mom in town. She was even shocked when we mentioned that we knew you! It’s a good thing we recognized her from the various letters she sent and the old photos.”

Hanami looks at Jean, who is still speechless. She continues her story.

“You were on your trip in Spain with Marco at the time, so the girls and your mom wanted to keep it a secret. Don't want to ruin the surprise, you know?"

Hanami chuckles to herself.

"Although she did ask if one of us was your girlfriend though. I think she wants grandchildren soon, Jeanbo.”

Hanami laughs at her little joke. Jean was too busy blushing to even laugh at her joke. Doesn’t his mom know that he is too young for that?! He decided to take note to never bring any of his female friends back home.

“Anyways, she even made us her famous omelets, which were the best I ever had! You have to make me someday, Jean. Don't even try to back out of it. Your mom said you could make it." She looks at him

She even showed us your baby pictures! You look so adorable!" she gushes.

Meanwhile, Jean has not said a word. He was too shocked to even talk.

"It's too bad you changed…" Hanami trails off and glances into Jean's golden-brown eyes. Suddenly, she stands up from her seat and leans forward. One of her hands rested on the table for support, and the other was reaching out to Jean's face.

Jean only watches as Hanami gently grabs his chin. He was too flustered to make any move to stop her. Her thumb was in the front, and the rest of her fingers were in the back. He doesn't make a move to stop her. He only blushes instead.

"You just had to grow a beard and your hair out into a mullet. You know, most guys can’t work it, yet here you are. Congrats, I guess."

She tilts his head left and right as if she was examining him. She leans closer to his face that Jean can feel her breaths fan his face.

"You also got taller and muscular too." She tsks with slight annoyance. "I wonder why no other girls on the island haven't jumped you yet, huh, lover-boy?." She laughs while referring to the fact that Jean harbors a crush on Mikasa for years now.

Her hand trailed up from his chin to cup his cheek. Jean stays still and continues to watch by looking into Hanami's espresso brown eyes behind her glasses. He hoped she could not see him short-circuiting with how close she was.

He feels her shift the hand on his cheek to pinch him. Hard.

"Ow! What the hell, Hanami?"

"You just had to lose all that baby fat and get a sharp jawline instead! I’m going to miss the pinchable cheeks I never actually got to see!"

Jean breaks out of his trance and raises his hands up to stop Hanami.

Two can play this game. What was the best thing to do in this situation? Grab both her cheeks as retaliation.

"You hypocrite! You're the one with chubbier cheeks than me!"

The two continue pulling at each other’s cheeks and throwing insults at one another. They completely ignored that they were in a public area and people nearby can see them. There was an elderly couple nearby who watched the scene unfold. They couldn’t help but laugh to themselves because it reminded them of when they were young. The waiter from earlier was starting to doubt his impression of Hanami. Who knew she was also childish?

Hanami and Jean’s bickering went on for a few minutes until Hanami gave in.

“Ok. Ok. You win, Jean!” she says after sitting back down in her seat. She rubs her now sore cheek. Yeesh, that guy has a grip.

She looks up at Jean’s face. It looks more relaxed and not as tense as before as a result of earlier.

Hanami mentally high-fived herself because her plan of getting Jean out of his whatever he was going through was a success. Now it was time to get serious.

“Jean. I can tell something is on your mind.” She reaches forward to place one hand on top of his on the table. She does not make any motion to hold it.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me specifically. However, just know that I am here for you, and I am happy to listen. I promise not to say anything.” She finishes with a smile.

Jean gulps and takes his hand away to tug on the collar of his shirt. Hanami just watches him patiently.

“It’s about the plan with Mikasa...I think we need to change tactics.”

Hanami crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“We...need to get Mikasa jealous.”

Hanami chuckles a bit. She has never seen Mikasa jealous in all of her years knowing her. Unless you consider that one instance with Annie training him, but Hanami thinks Annie didn’t view Eren that way. Hanami could not help but wonder how they can get Mikasa to feel jealous of a random girl with Jean in a short amount of time. Again, it depends on when Mikasa and Historia arrive.

“How do you plan on achieving that, Jean?” Hanami asks and takes a sip of her coffee. Things are starting to get interesting now.

“How are things with the bachelorette party?” Jeans suddenly ask, changing the topic. Hanami places her cup down on the table and looks at him suspiciously.

“Well, it is definitely going to be at the hotel plaza. Sasha had requested it there. Oh! Hange and her band are going to perform too. Hange wants to relive her glory days, or so she says. Why do you ask?”

Jean presses his lips in a thin line as if he was contemplating what to say next.

“I need your help with something for the bachelorette party.”

Hanami’s suspicious look never left her face. She takes some time to think about what Jean just said.

Suddenly, it all clicked in her head. She points an accusatory finger at him and glares at Jean.

“Don’t tell me you plan on inviting male strippers to the bachelorette party?!” Hamani yells and startles Jean as well as some passersby.

“No! Do you want me to get killed by practically this whole island?!” Jean exclaims, leaning forward in his seat to cover Hanami’s mouth. He keeps it there for a minute before leaning back to take a deep breath. Of course, Hanami would quickly jump to conclusions.

“No.” He says again calmly. “I need your help setting me up with-” He glances around him, looking slightly unsure. “-Rico when she arrives.”

Hanami looks at him dumbfounded. “Come again?”

Jean sighs and looks at Hanami with a serious face. “You heard me. I want you to set me up with Rico.”

“Rico? As in Rico Brzenska, the three-time divorcee? You do realize she is old enough to be your mom, right?”

“Of course I know that! It’s all part of getting Mikasa jealous!”.

Hanami nods her head, trying to understand whatever just came out of Jean’s mouth. To her, it sounded as if he must have gone mad or something. “Uh-huh. Do you plan on going after Pieck next?”

“No! She’s married!” He exclaims while blushing.

Hanami smirks and crosses her arms in front of her chest with triumph. “Exactly.”

Jean rubs his temples and looks at Hanami with a serious face. “Look, Niccolo came up with an idea about crashing the bachelorette party. Of course, we will make sure to let you have your fun before the guys come in.”

Hanami nods along, showing Jean she is following the story. “So you want me to help you get close enough to “seduce” her (she uses air quotes on the word seduce) that you end up dancing with her at the party and hope that Mikasa notices? Let me guess, you plan on adding more attempts right before the wedding and maybe at the reception?”

“Exactly. You can even try to put in a good word for me when Mikasa comes.”

Hanami nods again in understanding. “Ok, but I won’t do it for every interaction, ok? Only if it is just us two. I don’t want the other girls to raise suspicions if I start complimenting you randomly. Also-” She clamps her hands together. “-I won’t gatekeep Mikasa from Eren. If they want to talk, then I will let them talk. I don’t want to raise any suspicions between the two if that makes sense.”

Jean nods in agreement. “Ok. That sounds like a deal. You will help put in a good word for me to Mikasa, I can try talking to Rico before the party, we will work together to get me close to Rico. You also can't tell Mikasa about my old nickname. It's embarrassing enough that more people know it.” He holds his hand out for Hanami to shake.

Hanami laughs at how serious Jean was. She thought it was kind of funny to see how dedicated he was to this plan. She shakes his hand to seal the agreement. “I promise not to tell Mikasa, Jean. I do have some doubts about the Rico part. I don't mind saying ‘I told you so’ if things go south.”

She places her hand back down on the table and looks at Jean. She smiles, and it even catches him off guard. “You put a lot of effort into this, Jean. You deserve to be happy with Mikasa.”

“Y-y-yeah. You’re right.” Jean rubs the back of his head nervously, causing Hanami to laugh again.

Hanami continues smiling as she stands up and grabs Jean’s hand. “C’mon! I paid last time, so it’s your turn to pay for the food and I’m very hungry! I’m craving some walnut pie with ice cream!”

Jean never questioned her request. That woman had a sweet tooth second to Annie’s. He sighs as Hanami lets go of his hand to call over a waiter and start ordering a whole list of food.

This woman is going to be the death of him.

I know this is a filler chapter, but I am currently working on ch 9 right now. It is a good way to look at Hanami’s character though.

Updates may take a while because the semester is about to end

I chose Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy because I can see it fitting Jean and the many Nicosasha Tiktoks I used to get with this song.

The timing in this fic might be weird because I try to make it somewhat accurate with the research I find.

Speaking of research, this fic is basically a list of places I want to go to in the future. Too bad I can’t go now 😭

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #nicosasha #erwin x hange #mike x hange #mikenana #aruani #hitch x marlow #marco x mina #pokkopikku #snk #aot

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domesticblisss · 3 years

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Näher | PT.06

Walter x Female Reader (Nicknamed ‘Hase’) Mob AU! Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 2186 Warnings: Angst, smut and fluff, the holy trinity. Alcohol mention, annoying dude at a bar. Oral (female receiving), fingering, PiV. Summary: Hase and Walter has to stay away from each other for over a year. A/N: Blame Walter’s appearances on NXT and NXT UK this week. Pt.01 | Pt.02 | Pt.03 | Pt.04 | Pt.05

I haven’t seen Walter in over a year. Shit went down with Bobby Gunns’ gang and he made Axel, Fabian and Alex flee with me to the US, to Florida of all places. It has been the worst 483 days of my life. I haven’t spoken to him since he made me leave, no “goodbyes”, no “I see you laters”, no “I love yous”, only a “You’ve got 30 minutes to pack your stuff. Axel is going to help you and Fabian and Alex will be waiting for you in the car.” It was the most silent and nerve wrecking car ride ever. Alex’s knuckles were whiter than usual from how tight his grip on the steering wheel was, Axel’s legs bounced nonstop, and I am pretty sure Fabian was saying a prayer in italian under his breath. My nerves got the best of me and my incessant questioning started. “What is going on?” Silence “Where are we going?” Silence “Why isn’t Walter with us?” Silence “Is everything ok?” “Will you shut the fuck up?” Fabian yelled from the front seat, earning a smack on the head from Axel, who sat by my side in the back. “There’s no need to talk to her like that, Fabian.” Alex, always the voice of reason, started. “Hase, I’m sorry about peanut head over here and everything that’s going on. Do you remember Jurn?” I nodded. “He turned on us. He works for Gunns and somehow made his way into our business. Walter found out but he was still able attack the office by the docks and we lost a few men. Gunns was planning on going after you to get to Walter.” “Oh.” I couldn’t say anything else and I felt Axel’s hands in mine, squeezing it tightly. A few minutes passed before I was able to open my mouth again. “Is Walter okay?” “Yeah, he’s fine. He has some stuff to solve but he’s fine. Don’t worry about him.” it was Axel’s turn to answer me. “Where are we going?” “Florida.” “Why?” “We’ve got business there too and it’s safer.” I could fell the tiredness coming from Axel’s voice. “Hm, okay. Is Walter going to meet us there?” “I don’t know. At least not right now, he’s going back to Austria for a little while.” “What about Tim?” “You know how loyal Tim is to Walter. He’ll just go wherever Walter goes.” I could only nod. The last 10 minutes of the car ride and the 14+ hour plane trip were made in complete silence. ------ It has been 483 days since I have last seen Walter or even heard his voice. In the beginning, I would bombard the boys with questions daily, asking if I could call him – which the answer was always no – asking if he was ok, asking when he was coming to meet us or how was the businesses. My constant running around to only be met with dismissiveness from his side and vague answers from the boys started to get tiring and I lost my will by the fourth month. The three of them were kind enough to not force me to talk about him anymore and were always finding a way to slip a little info here and there during conversations for me to catch on. Tim came to be with us around the six-month mark and brought with him the copy of The Rolling Stones’ Aftermath vinyl Walter and I would always listen to after a hard day, me either sitting on his lap or us dancing around his library when “Under My Thumb” came on. Inside the vinyl case was a letter handwritten by him, ever the man of few words, the letter was as short as I would imagine a letter written by Walter would be.

“Hase,

I am deeply sorry about how fast everything happened and that I couldn’t even say a proper goodbye.

I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you got hurt because of me and I am sorry for not calling you, but this is for the best as of right now.

Things are getting better around here, and we will see each other again someday.

I hope this record brings you good memories and makes your days a little better like it used to when we had each other.

Love, yours forever,

Walter.”

“Someday”. What the fuck was “someday” supposed to mean?

------

I left the house a couple of weeks after Tim arrived, all their presences and Walter not being there was getting to be unbearable, as they were acting as if I was this fragile object that would break at any given point. So, for the sake of my mental health, I decided to leave the house and rent a place for me in downtown Miami and opened a record store to keep my mind occupied since the boys already had people running their businesses around here, only calling me in when they needed a second opinion.

It wasn’t like I stopped seeing them, at least one of them would go everyday to the store and Fridays were the days where we would get together to drink, eat and talk all night long. Besides that, my days simply consisted of yoga, working out when I felt like, looking out for the store, and going out for drinks at night to the bar on the street corner of the store.

The Bar is owned by Gus and Angela, a couple in their fifties that have known each other since high school. The nicest people I have ever met, they took me under their wings on the first night I went there. They saw how down I was and started talking to me, asking about “what is making a sweet angel like you hurt like this?” and I told them everything. I probably shouldn’t but I am sure Walter isn’t the most dangerous and “issues with the law heavy” person they got to know. Every night since then, they made sure my favourite spot on the counter was free for whenever I arrived, that my favourite drink was on stock and, of course, that I didn’t drink too much, that no assholes got into funny business with me and that I arrived home safe.

Today was supposed to be another one of those nights. It was way busier than usual, but my seat was still free, and my drink was there waiting for me, being super crowded, they couldn’t give me the attention they always did.

I barely sat on the stool and I could feel eyes staring at me from my left side. I turned around to be met with blue blood shot eyes, messy, bleached, and drier than the Sahara Desert blonde hair.

“Hey, peach. What is a sweet thing like you doing here?” the man asked.

“Drinking.”

“Yeah? Me too! I’m Dolph, what can I get you?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“C’mon sweetheart,” he got up to stand closer to me, his hands touching my hair as he spoke up again “order something, it’s on me. Let’s have some fun.”

“I’m good, dude. Thanks again.” I told him and as I turned to face my right side, I felt his hand grab my left arm.

“I said, let’s have some fun you little b–“ he was cut off by a too familiar voice.

“I think she said no, weichei.”

“Walter?”

“Geht es dir gut, Hase?” he said as he came to my side and I could only nod.

“Oh, I see. So, this is your type, huh? You little sl-“ Walter cut the Dolph guy off once again, this time by punching his nose. The whole bar stopped, and Angela came to me to know what was going on.

“Is everything ok, dear?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry, Angie. This dude was bothering me but it’s fine now. This is Walter by the way.” I look behind me to see him greeting her with a wave and that stupid childish grin he gets on.

“Oh, now I understand you, darling. Go, just go and leave it to us to take care of this loser.”

Luckily, Walter’s car was parked right out of the bar so the walk to it wasn’t long. I could feel him right behind me, his hand finding its way to the small of my back, only to have me walking a little faster so I can get away of his touch.

The air inside the car felt thick with tension that seemed one sided when Walter slowly typed my address on the navigation system.

“How do you know my address? Wait, that’s a stupid question. Of course you know it. Axel gave it to you, right?”

“Yes.”

The 10-minute ride felt like an hour long. I couldn’t say anything, and Walter knew better than to try and strike a conversation like nothing happened. Both of my legs were bouncing nonstop, and Walter gave in to his default reaction to when I got like this: he put his hand on my knee and squeezed it, knowing that it usually calmed me down.

“Please don’t touch me.”

He was quick to comply.

It didn’t take us too long to get to the apartment and I wordlessly told him to get in.

“This is a nice place.”

“Yeah.”

“Feels like you.”

“God, Walter. Cut the fucking small talk.” I snapped.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What do I want you to say?! I had to fucking flee Germany and leave you behind. I stayed one year and three months with no contact with you whatsoever. One year and three months without hearing your voice, without seeing you, having to beg to one of the guys to give me any sort of information on you and you are asking me what I want you to say? Are you really that out of touch?”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s it? You’re sorry? Fuck! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” I kept repeating those words while slapping his chest only to be stopped by having him hold my wrists and bring me closer to him.

“Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be this way.” I didn’t let him continue and kissed him.

His hands immediately left my wrists, one of them grabbing me by the back of my hair and the other going straight to my waist, bringing me even closer to him, as if that was possible.

He backed me up on the kitchen doorway, his hands working quickly to take all the layers of fabric that got in our way and as soon as my pants hit the floor, he got on his knees and started eating me out.

It is like he had a map of my body memorised on his head. He knew exactly where to bite on my thighs, the exact pressure to apply on my clit when he was sucking it and how I liked my nipples to be played with. I broke down when he got two thick fingers inside of me. He got up and held me after I stopped spasming, the high too big after one year getting by with my trusty vibrator. He held me tight, as if, if he let me go, I would disappear.

“Are you ok?”

“Mhm” I nodded and let out a shaky laugh.

“Wanna keep going?”

“Please!”

He guided us to my couch, sitting down and pulling me to his lap.

“Go on, use me as your will.” He offered.

I sank down onto his shaft slowly, getting used to the thickness of it once again.

“You used to be faster at this.” He mocked me.

“I haven’t fucked anyone in a year, give me a break.”

“Don’t you have a vibrator?”

“I do and he’s not as big and thick as you.”

“Good.”

I started riding him slowly, each up and down motion bringing me closer to bottoming him out. I held on to his hand, which he brought to his lips and started kissing each fingertip, murmuring “I love you” after every kiss.

His breathing got uneven as my movements became more erratic, his thrusts got faster, meeting mine halfway. It wasn’t long before we came together.

I got off from his lap and laid down on the couch, panting. He took this as an opportunity to grab us some water in the kitchen, and when he came back, he laid on top of me.

We stayed quiet for a few minutes, only staring at each other. He had the same look of adoration he gave me the first time I ran into him with Axel on the grocery store.

“What?” I broke the silence.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I am truly sorry that everything happened like this. I never meant to stay away from you this long, but you know Bobby was a dangerous guy and I had to take precautions. I promise you this will never happen again and that I will never leave you again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Never again. I’m all yours.”

------

Translations

Weichei: Wimp

Geht es dir gut, Hase?: Are you ok, Hase?

→

#walter #walter wwe #walter imagine #walter x reader #wrestling imagine #nxt imagine #DB Writes

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inkstaineddove · 3 years

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Mistaken Identity

Ships: PruHun

Characters: Prussia, Austria, Hungary

Summary: After months locked inside, all Gilbert wants is to get back out and have a good time. Erzsébet wants to follow the rules, which isn't any fun with me. In comes Roderich and a tacky-yet-apt masquerade ball as Gil's only refuge.

Budapest, 2020.

Erzsébet sat hunched over her desk, her eyes burning from staring at a screen for far too long. Each day brought more work than she had ever remembered dealing with – more than that brought on by war, which pushed every official to their limits. The futility of it all hit her. Any dent in it she made today was meaningless compared to tomorrow’s downpour of papers, emails, and conference calls. She shut the folder she had been staring at. If she stayed here any longer, she was certain she would go mad. A break was needed.

In a few steps she was in her bedroom, crashing down onto the bed. She closed her eyes and snuggled into her sheets, a small smile appearing on her face. At last, she found peace as her responsibilities melted away.

“Erzsi!” Gilbert’s voice called up to her from downstairs. She heard feet marching towards her. She hid her face beneath the blankets, childishly hoping that if she couldn’t see him, he would give up and leave.

Silence settled over the home and she didn’t dare breathe. ‘Five minutes alone,’ she half-prayed, half-chanted to herself in her mind.

It wasn’t to be. The bed groaned under the weight of an intruder and a calloused hand lovingly rubbed the small of her back. “Are you alright?” When she didn’t answer, he tried asking again, this time in Hungarian.

Damn his persistence. “I’m fine. It’s been a long day.” Erzsébet moved the pillow, smiling weakly at him. “I was hoping to take a little nap before dinner.”

“Rest up. You’ve been working so hard.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She waited for him to leave. Instead, she felt him shift into a more comfortable position. She sighed softly through her nose. “Gil, I was hoping to take a nap alone.”

“You were? I didn’t realize. I’ll go.”

She felt his presence in the room still. She opened one eye to see him standing in the doorway, looking unsure. “Something the matter, kedvesem?” She didn’t care that her irritation came through in her tone. All the better for him to finally get the memo that his presence was unwanted.

In any other time, his bashfulness would’ve been charming. Gilbert scratched the back of his neck, his eyes studying the rug at the foot of the bed. “Nothing! Nothing really. I just…saw online that our favorite bar reopened and, since tomorrow’s Saturday, I thought it would be nice if we went out. For one night.” He saw her disapproving look and took a step forward, his hands held together as if he were praying. “Please, Erzsi. We don’t have to be there for long! One hour, that’ll be enough! Shit, if that’s too long we can have a drink and leave!”

This again? “No. We’re not going. How many times do I have to tell you that? We’re to set a good example.” She shut her eyes and rolled to her side, willing him away with her mind.

“What does it matter what we do if the fucking country is open? Who are we setting an example for, the elderly?” Seeing that he failed to get a reaction from her, he crawled to her side of the bed on his knees. “I need to leave this house. I haven’t been to a bar in months! I miss talking to people! I’m going insane. I’m on the verge of a breakdown. I might start drawing faces on inanimate objects and talking to them!”

“I understand, Gil. But it’s important to do what’s right. Now, please, let me sleep. I’m tired of having this argument with you.” She kissed his hands before turning her back to him.

“Fine then. Be that way. I’ll go out by myself,” he grumbled.

“Having the house to myself? Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Erzsébet smirked. An idea began formulating in her mind. She jolted up, grinning. “Wait! I remember! You know who said he missed seeing us? I can’t leave since I’m so weighed down with work, but I’m sure Roderich would love to have you visit for the weekend.”

Gilbert gave her a skeptical look. “He would never say that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, he wouldn’t say it to you, but to me is another matter. Why the hesitation? Wouldn’t that get you out of the house and around other people? There’s no downside to visiting.” A mischievous glint flickered within her eyes. “It’ll be good for us, too. Isn’t it always better to see each other after a little time apart? Think of the reunion.”

There was something he couldn’t argue with. Sufficiently persuaded, he rose from his place at the side of the bed. “I’ll start packing now.”

…

Vienna.

Roderich had never felt more alive. What a glorious time this was! Gone were the days of hurrying between government buildings, of watching Parliament argue with dull-eyed boredom, of having to deal with each nation and their idiosyncrasies in negotiations that never ended. The only reason he left home now was of his own volition, not due to the mandates of the day. While having only a fraction of his usual servants on staff presented its own challenges, the fact that he no longer had to make monthly trips to Brussels to hear France and Germany argue with Britain over the minutiae of trade outweighed it all.

His fingers glided over the soft ivory of his piano. A triumphant melody rose from them, one his heart had specially crafted for this moment. He closed his eyes while he played, allowing himself the luxury of getting lost in it. A light knock on the door interrupted him. In too high of spirits to be annoyed, he swiveled to face the butler. “Is something the matter?” Roderich’s voice held no malice or irritation, only curiosity at what was so important that it had to be discussed now.

“Herr Beilschmidt is here, sir,” the butler spoke with an apologetic smile. He had been employed here for some time and had heard many of Roderich’s complaints over the years.

“How odd. It’s not like Ludwig to pop in without telling me beforehand. Did he seem distressed? Something must be wrong for him to – you’re shaking your head? My God, don’t tell me.” Fear sunk like lead in Roderich’s stomach. He didn’t have the patience for whatever antics this would entail. Not when these last few months have been a peace he hadn’t known in centuries. “This is an absurd ask, but you understand. I need you to buy me time. I’ll escape out the upstairs window. Thank you.” He gave the poor butler no chance to respond as he scurried out the room.

Never had Roderich been so grateful for the size of his home. He cut through the servants’ quarters, knowing that would be the safest route. Halfway up the stairs, he heard Gilbert’s outrage and the sound of his voice growing nearer. Hurrying faster, he took the stairs two at a time, no longer caring if he was noticed so long as he got away.

With his adrenaline pumping hot through his veins, he fumbled with the window latch which cost him precious seconds. He looked down, trying to determine whether jumping or climbing would be the better option. Whatever damage he may incur from jumping would be minimal in the grand scheme of things, it would be quite the humiliation if he were caught. While he knew Erzsébet had climbed out from the bedroom window many a time while they were married, she had athleticism he lacked. Wouldn’t the embarrassment be worse if he were found barely hanging onto a windowpane and required Gilbert’s assistance? He would never be allowed to live that down and would, at least, face Ludwig and Erzsébet’s teasing for that. No, jumping would be the better option.

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and knew the chase was over. “If you miss the times when Czechia would throw you out a window, I’d be more than happy to take over for her.” He could hear the smirk in Gilbert’s voice and wanted nothing more than to smack it off him.

“I would prefer if defenestration remained one of the few tortures you haven’t subjected me to. Though I will remember your kind offer.” Roderich shrugged his hand off him and turned around, arms crossed. “Why are you here? Is your visit more bad karma for another of my supposed crimes?”

Gilbert rolled his eyes, fishing around for something in his pocket. “What’s all the melodrama for? Is the only way you can admit you’ve missed me is if I’ve been locked up behind a wall for thirty years?” Finding what he was looking for, he shoved a square of paper into Roderich’s chest with an annoyed smile. “Erzsi told me to give this to you and made me promise not to read it. Maybe this will get the stick out your ass enough to let me stay.”

If he wanted to be welcomed, Roderich would give him a welcoming. He began fanning himself with his hand, contorting his face into one of mocking admiration. “You’re right! How could I be so rude to his greatness? I should be kissing your ass more for daring to grace me with your presence! My most humble and sincere apologies.” He curtseyed with a smirk, fueled by Gilbert’s own irritation. He took the letter and opened it, reading:

‘Dear Roderich,

I’m sorry to drag you into the middle of this, but aren’t you used to that? I can’t take another moment of us living together when neither of us can leave the house for hours on end. If I sent him back to Berlin, I know he’d get on Ludwig’s nerves and I’d feel too guilty about that. Have you talked to him recently? The poor little thing sounds so much more stressed than usual! I can hardly blame him, but I don’t want to add to it unnecessarily. Not for my own selfish needs.

And, while I’m sure you’re just as stressed, at least you can lock Gilbert away in some far corner of the house. There must be plenty to do with a reduced staff – my heart goes out to you for our last call when you bitched about it repeatedly – so he would be kept occupied for a few days. Why am I acting like he’s such a burden? I don’t have to be worried about either of you killing the other anymore.

Do I? This means the world to me that you’ve agreed – you won’t turn me down. Think of all the years you owe me for – and I’m sorry for imposing on you so suddenly. Oh! And before I forget: he’s like a dog yet to be trained. Despite all his begging and his pathetically cute pouting, don’t let him leave the house. I’ve tried to tell him how important it is to set an example, but he’s too damn stubborn.

With love,

Erzsébet’

Roderich smiled and nudged Gilbert, who was reading over his shoulder, with his elbow. “That’s rare. She closed a letter to me ‘with love.’ That’s only happened three other times before and one of those was when she wrote telling me she wanted a divorce.” He gave a self-deprecating little chuckle and slipped it into his pocket. He noticed Gilbert’s wince and rolled his eyes. “Spare me your pity. I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t find it funny. Is she really keeping you cooped up inside? That’s ridiculous.”

“Isn’t it? And it’s not just her! Fucking Ludwig gives me no mercy whenever I’m back home to take care of whatever. He even forced me to live with him while this is going on so he can watch me. As if I’m the child that needs to be disciplined!” Gilbert crossed his arms and scowled. “It’s insulting, Roddy. All under the guise of ‘setting an example’ and ‘being a moral leader,’ as if anyone’s turned to me for morality!”

Roderich found himself annoyed on Gilbert’s behalf. He shook his head, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “I’m assuming all you’re begging for is one measly little beer at whatever bar that’s closest.” At Gilbert’s nod in the affirmative, Roderich scoffed. “Ah, yes. Going for a pint will surely bring about the fall of civilization! Thank whatever divinity control the fates that Erzsébet and Ludwig are working so valiantly to prevent it! And the nerve of him! This is what you get for telling him you two were brothers. If he were raised to view us as fathers, he would have a bit more reluctance to tell you what you could and couldn’t do.”

“Yeah, well, just add that to the ever-growing list of my fuck ups. Mind if I smoke in here? This is getting me all riled up again.” By the time he asked, he already had a cigarette between his teeth and was fishing for his lighter.

“You can if you give me one. I ran out this morning. The ashtrays on the dresser.” Roderich caught the cigarette tossed to him and the lighter that shortly followed. He shook his head. “It’s your fuck up just as well as mine. Saved us trouble then only to get us into more now. Whenever I’ve talked to him over the past few months, he’s been on my case as well. One time I hung up on him because he was getting too sanctimonious even for me.”

Gilbert exhaled the smoke from his nostrils, giving him the appearance of a dragon. “Honestly, I could handle it if it were just him. He tried the same act during the war to get us to stop smoking and look how well that turned out. But Erzsi! What happened to my partner in crime? I can’t even look at the front door without hearing a lecture! When did the rules start mattering to her? Goddammit, until now, they’ve always been meant to be broken!”

“It is rather rich coming from her. Could bend every rule for centuries as long as it was for her own gratification. And, for that to happen, you would be the one to drop everything and break into my home! That’s fairytale devotion – and lawlessness, thank you for stopping that after the divorce – so why is it so impossible for her to reciprocate?” Roderich flicked some ashes on the floor. They would be someone else’s problem to clean up.

“If I knew where it went, believe me, I’d be back home!” He paused, hung up on a technicality. “Well, her home. No, fuck it, it’s my home too! Whatever! I tried asking her about it, but lord. You would not believe the bitching she can do!”

Roderich gave him a look. “Believe me, I know.” Rolling his eyes at the memories, he sighed. “It’s a shame that she’s turned into a complete killjoy. I hope for our sake this is only due to stress. The dynamic wouldn’t be the same without her.” An idea came to mind and he straightened up, thrilled with his own brilliance. “But who needs her? I almost forgot I was invited to this little soiree tonight. I’ll take you with me! It’ll be like a boy’s night out!”

“I’ll go if you never say ‘boy’s night’ to me again. Don’t try to be what you’re not.” Gilbert thought it over. While he was sure whatever kinds of things Roderich got invited to wouldn’t normally be his thing, the prospect of social interaction was too great to turn down. Besides, what was there to lose? “What kind of party are we talking about?”

“A masquerade. It’s appropriate, but the tackiness initially turned me off. If it weren’t for you, I would prefer to sit this one out. Lord knows I’ve done enough schmoozing with old and new money to last me several hundred lifetimes. What? Why are you scowling like that?”

“You know I hate shit like that. Everyone’s always so uptight and you have to be on your best behavior. There’s no way to have any fun!” Gilbert smirked, remembering the few he enjoyed. “The only reason I came to yours was because the afterparties were mind-blowing.”

Roderich held up a hand, a look of disgust on his face. “Don’t paint me a picture when I’ve already seen the film. Multiple times.” He shuddered. “Stepping out of the past, whatever happens in the present is up to you. I’m more than happy staying home. Unlike you, I’ve been living the good life. But you should be smart. This could be the only chance you get to see your fellow man. You’ll have to go home eventually and who knows when she’ll let you outside.”

He laid his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with a smirk. He knew all it took was a little prodding from the devil to get Gilbert to act. While he normally preferred to not be so heavy-handed in his persuasion, it was necessary in certain cases when dealing with a particularly dense individual. Roderich puffed some smoke out the side of his mouth and checked his wristwatch. It was only a matter of seconds now…

“You’re right! Let’s go, we can make it fun. And it’s a masquerade so I don’t even have to worry about embarrassing you. It’s perfect!” Gilbert put out his cigarette in the ashtray. “We’re close enough in size, right? I’ll have to borrow something.”

…

They were there for all of five minutes and Gilbert was already regretting their decision to go. He had been abandoned as soon as Roderich sighted some aristocrat or other who needed to be fawned over. The few Gilbert had interacted with wanted nothing else to do with him once they’d sniffed out his quickly falsified noble ancestry. Apparently, all feuds between Austrian lords and Prussian Junkers hadn’t been forgotten.

“Bunch of fucking snobs anyways. As if I’ve ever needed their approval,” he grumbled into his scotch. The only mercy was the fully stocked bar he could camp out by. If his only entertainment would be to get so drunk he’d have to be carried out, then so be it. What did he care? Not like he was the one who had to pay for anything.

He sighed. Where were Francis and Antonio when he needed them? Hell, he was so desperate he’d even take Ivan, if only to have someone he could get away with being a jerk to. The guy would’ve probably smuggled some homemade vodka in and all Gilbert needed was half a bottle to be on top of a table, singing battle hymns at the top of his lungs.

Looking around the room, he finally found his entertainment. Roderich was talking with a beautiful woman – not only that, but he seemed to actually be making her laugh. A surge of pride filled him. Gilbert resisted the urge to start cheering him on. Instead, he watched closely, living vicariously through his every gesture. He hardly touched the drink beside him that now grew warm.

Then, suddenly, there was a change in the woman’s posture. Without hearing what was said, he could only speculate, but he’d seen Roderich at work enough to have some educated guesses. Gilbert kicked himself for hanging back this long. If this were to be saved, an expert wingman was desperately needed.

As Gilbert started making his way over towards them, a better idea sprung to mind. Where would be the fun in helping Roderich along? If he was going to interfere, why not gain some personal satisfaction too? He had no intentions of trying to bed the woman – that would go against one of his three principles – but a little flirting to get in his cousin’s head? Well, wasn’t that his favorite blood sport?

Coming up behind him, Gilbert clapped Roderich on the shoulder. “Roddy! There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Taking in the sight of the woman before them, he feigned surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was intruding on something.”

“Now you know so go away,” Roderich hissed under his breath, jamming his elbow into Gilbert’s side.

The woman appeared to sigh in relief at the company. She smiled at Gilbert, making her beauty all the more apparent than it was when he was still at the bar. “You’re not intruding at all. I hadn’t realized you had someone with you, Roderich.”

Both men spoke at the same time, wishing to combat any insinuation they came as a couple. As Roderich rushed out that they were cousins, Gilbert blurted out that they were brothers. They stared each other down, silently willing the other to concede and kicking themselves for not ironing out a story until this moment.

Thankfully, she only seemed bemused by their mistake. “Must be one complicated family tree you two have.” She studied Gilbert carefully. He could’ve sworn he saw something like familiarity in her eyes, but he was hardly paying attention to such trivial things. He was too fascinated with the way the gold on her mask brought out the streaks of amber out of her eyes. He swore they had some magical property to them. “I hope I’m not being rude, but I swear I’ve seen you before. I don’t think yours is a face I would ever forget.”

“I doubt we have. A man would have to be blind and stupid to not remember a woman with your beauty. Damn, look at me. Get me out of the house and I forget all my manners.” He took her hand in his and bent down, bringing it too his lips. His eyes looking up at her, enclosed behind their wolfish shell, truly made him appear animalistic. “My name’s Gilbert and I hope my…friend hasn’t been harassing you for too long. He never knows when to shut up.”

Roderich stared at them with open-mouthed fury. “We were having a perfectly fine conversation before you sauntered along and had to turn the spotlight back on yourself. And now you’re going to put on this whole chivalrous act, as if anyone in their right mind would believe it.” He straightened up, turning to the woman with an incredulous roll of the eyes. “He owes you, and any other poor woman he’s berated, his sincerest apologies. Especially since he has a wife back home who would be thrilled to hear of this.”

That got her attention, though Gilbert feared it was for the worse. If only the snout of her fox mask didn’t obscure the little smile she tucked away. She leaned over, pretending to examine his left hand. “A wife? Where’s your ring? Did you cheap out on the poor woman?”

Roderich was in his element now. He clutched a hand to his chest, sighing dramatically. “A scoundrel like him? He couldn’t even afford to buy a ring from a pawn shop, much less going to any actual jeweler. Years ago, he might’ve been able to. Poor fool disgraced our father and he cut him out of the will.” He bent down to the woman’s height and cut a sharp glance at Gilbert before stage-whispering, “I only take him to these events out of pity. Charity to the poor and all that.”

This was really how they were going to do it? Gilbert straightened up, ready to defend his faux reputation. “My ring got a bit small; I’m having it resized. And I’m not trying to run around behind her back. When you have a good thing, you don’t intentionally ruin it.” He sneered at Roderich, all the knives out. “Though, he is the expert on sleeping around. How many marriages have you been through? Better yet, how many affairs? Actually, don’t start listing them. We’d be here through next month.”

The woman pretended to gasp, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She didn’t wish to bruise their egos by letting her laughter slip. “I don’t know how anyone could cheat on their spouse. It’s the coward’s way out of the relationship.” She stared Roderich down, biting the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure you’d agree, Roderich.”

Roderich tensed up, his hands balling into fists by his side. It hardly helped that Gilbert was snickering besides him, feeling oh-so-proud of the ship he was sinking. “Believe me, I agree completely. He’s the one who lacks all understanding of these things. I can’t believe he’s neglected to mention how he met his wife. How odd, considering that’s one of his favorite stories to tell.” He tapped a finger against his chin, sighing wistfully as he recalled the memories. “I can’t believe you haven’t brought up the fact that the only reason you have a wife is because you stole mine. Right! You’re so ego obsessed that it must’ve slipped your mind due to the unflattering, yet all too accurate, picture it paints of yourself!”

Gilbert immediately jumped to his own defense. On and on they bickered like this, throwing in barbs both old and freshly invented. It didn’t take long for them to forget they had an audience until they were only focused on each other and inflicting as much pain as possible. When a few glances were passed their way, they finally had enough good sense to retreat into a corner of the room.

While receiving an earful about setting Gilbert’s newborn on fire, Roderich began impatiently looking around the room. Only then did he realize how alone the two of them were. “You ass! Look what you’ve done! You scared the poor woman off and ruined any chance I had.”

Her disappearance snapped Gilbert out of his fog. He blinked in confusion, staring lamely ahead. “No shit?” Her absence completely took him by surprise, deflating him. “Huh, I figured that would turn out better than it did. Damn, what a waste. That’s not as fun as it used to be.”

“That’s why you went through with that? As some kind of perverse joke at my expense? You bastard! You absolute bastard! My happiness is a joke to you! Still, after all these years!” Roderich began hitting him in the arm, increasing in strength and speed each time. “I had a chance! I had a good chance and you had to waltz in and ruin it for me! All for your own amusement! Are you laughing, yet? Are you fucking laughing?”

Gilbert grimaced, doing his best to protect his face. “Give it up. I only came over when I saw she wanted to get away from you. The only chance you had with her was in your fantasies. You should thank me, I’m the whole reason she stuck around for that long.” When a blow landed on his cheek, he scowled. “You hit me again and I’m breaking your damn arm.”

As Roderich opened his mouth to retaliate, the host began clinking his glass. He huffed, glaring with an intense hatred that hadn’t been there in at least a century. “You haven’t heard the end of this. When we get back home, you won’t know what peace is.”

Like any mature adult, Gilbert stuck his tongue out. “I’m shivering.”

They hung to the back of the crowd, neither wanting to draw further attention towards themselves. They listened passively to the host’s speech. It was nothing important, the usual platitudes and calling out certain guests to thank them for coming. The only recognition either gave that they were listening was a polite little nod Roderich gave upon his own name being uttered.

What snapped them back to reality was the woman’s name being called and her long trip from Budapest being commented on, which Erzsébet politely laughed at. “I don’t know how, but I managed to sneak out for one night,” was all she needed to say. It was enough, it was enough for them both.

An understanding passed between them. There needed to be payback, some retaliation for the grief she’d too willingly put them through. And it had to be soon, before the moment passed.

Gilbert cupped his hands around his mouth. “Erzsi! We love you! We’re your biggest fans!” He went all in, cheering her on as if she were some starlet at a movie premiere. Why did he care about dignity, anyway? He had embarrassed himself plenty of times in front of these aristocrats’ ancestors and he would provide their descendants with a show now. It was all the same to him.

Surprisingly, Roderich joined in with full enthusiasm. Begging for her autograph, asking who she was wearing, and any other absurd request he could think of. If pressed about this later by any of the other guests, he decided he’d plead either temporary insanity or drunkenness. He wouldn’t be surprised if they believed him; most in attendance here were vacuous enough to believe anything if it were inane enough.

There was no question that they’d be allowed to stay after such an eruption. Some block-headed guards escorted them out of the home, but neither cared. The look of outrage on her face – the embarrassment, the upset – that had been worth it in the moment. Sitting out on the curb on cold and uncomfortable concrete, it was worth it if it humiliated her just the same.

Roderich’s head was buried deep in his hands, mask discarded in his lap. He was statuesquely still, deep somewhere in the recesses of his mind. Out of nowhere, he began laughing and shaking his head. He tilted his head back up at the stars. “Damn her,” he exhaled out.

Gilbert, confused by the sudden outburst, leaned away from him. God forbid the momentary madness was contagious. “What’s your problem?”

“Don’t you get it? This is all our existence is ever going to be, where she curses us to keep debasing ourselves for her amusement and favor. Any of the noble pretenses she’s claimed it was about, that’s never mattered! Not love, not autonomy, not any of it! Our mental health is worth nothing more to her than a couple cheap laughs and a power trip.” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up and giving him the appearance of something wild. Roderich barked out another laugh. “And, to think, it took me this long to realize it! All the fighting, all the animosity, all of it for nothing. Tonight proves we wasted centuries.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Gilbert rolled his eyes. “Why are you looking for deeper meaning in this? We got tricked, we got back at her, and now all three of us are jackasses. As it was before and as it always will be.” He paused, considering the weight of what he just said. Resigned to fate, he sighed. “Dammit, I think I see your point.”

At the sound of high heels clip-clopping their way over, Roderich jumped up. “There she is! The master of ceremonies for the evening’s disaster!” He mockingly bowed at her. Once upright again, his smirk became apparent. “Any other humiliations you plan on subjecting us to or was this all you had planned? Take your time, us loyal dogs will be waiting faithfully until your next command.”

“Give it up, Roderich. You’re acting like this is the worst I’ve done to you.” Erzsébet smirked. She was relieved he was joking about it, in his strange way. “If I found a new pair of toys to mess with, what would you do without me? That would be crueler. You know I couldn’t put you through that. Though I should be offended it took you that long to realize it was me. You too, for that matter,” she nudged Gilbert with the tip of her shoe. Now, she allowed herself to laugh. “What? Was I wearing too many clothes for you two to recognize me?”

Roderich rolled his eyes, wishing he were more shocked at that jab. “You’re a piece of work, you understand that?” His tone was almost affectionate. “I will say, if you’d started performing a strip tease in the middle of the room, while it would’ve broken your cover sooner, I do think we would’ve preferred it. No, actually, finding out how we did was better. It would’ve been quite the nasty shock to us both had you gone home with me. The vengeance would’ve been sweet in the moment, sure, but the guilt afterwards? After enough decades, it would’ve killed me.”

“Thanks, Roddy. You’re always a friend,” Gilbert mumbled under his breath.

“Pulling no punches, huh?” For Gilbert’s sake, she tried not to laugh and failed. “Sorry to your ego, but that wouldn’t have happened. You lost your grand chance for retribution when I realized who you were. Then, when I saw your guest, I knew which one I wanted to go home with. Speaking of,” she knelt down, resting her chin on Gilbert’s shoulder, “nothing to say to me, kedvesem? Not like you to be so quiet.”

He gently shrugged her off him, eyes still fixed across the street. “Aren’t you supposed to be back home? I don’t think a ‘moral leader’ would be out at a party right now.” He felt the air shift around Erzsébet. Clearly that wasn’t the right answer and Roderich’s childish snickering didn’t help the matter.

“Really? You’re still pitching a fit over this?” She huffed. “So I snuck out of the house, big deal. You’re guilty of the same. Neither of us have the moral high ground.”

“Bullshit! I, at least, was open about what I wanted to do!” Gilbert crossed his arms, glaring at her from the corner of his eye. “If you hadn’t been caught, you were going to keep this to yourself. Either that or you’d have run off to tell Feliks and act like gossipy old hens about it.” Her telling silence caused him to roll his eyes. “See? It’s almost like I know you.”

Deciding against escalation, Erzsébet offered him a hand and pulled him up off the ground. Her expression softened when he didn’t pull away afterwards. “Fine. I’m sorry for being a hypocrite. I planned on skipping this stupid thing, but you were gone and the thought of you having fun while I was home, stressing about bureaucratic horse shit, lead to an impulsive decision on my part.” She shrugged in faux apathy. “And this was thrown by one of the only tolerable families. Going felt like the diplomatic choice. I didn’t want any hurt feelings.”

“I don’t think you could’ve come up with worse reasoning if you tried.” Despite himself, Gilbert felt the corners of his mouth lilt up. “Seriously. That’s what you’re going with.”

Called out, she giggled. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

Their moment was interrupted by the sound of Roderich groaning. “Really? You come bursting into my home, all up in arms about this, and now you’re just going to let it go? Have some dignity, some spine! You could at least try and manipulate the situation to your advantage rather than let bygones be bygones.” At the look they both gave him, he shrugged. “You may judge, but we all know I’m not exactly wrong.”

“Why would I want to do that over something so minor?” Gilbert stared at him as if he’d gone completely mad.

“Because it’s effective. Watch and learn from the master.” He pushed Gilbert aside, stepping in to take his place. He shifted his whole demeanor to that of a wounded animal. Eyes cast aside, arms folded across his chest. It was a pathetic sight. “After what’s been done to me tonight, I don’t know how I’ll be able to look any of them in the eye again. My name! My reputation! All tarnished in a matter of hours, never to be regained until next month when everyone inevitably forgets it! Erzsébet, do you not see how you’ve ruined me? What do you have to say for yourself?”

She gasped, eyes widened in horror at her insensitivity. “How could I? That’s one less group of socialites you’ll have to kiss ass to. Poor Roderich, how will you go on?” She tapped an index finger against her chin. “Should I get on my knees to grovel for your forgiveness now or should I save that for later?”

Roderich held up a hand. “Save it. There’s no need for us to go overboard.” He gave a smug little smile to Gilbert. “See? Works like a charm every time.”

“I’m never doing that.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust. Roderich’s overinflated satisfaction was nauseating. “All the drama and that’s what you wanted. Aren’t you pathetic.” Gilbert could hardly contain his smirk.

“What? Sometimes an apology is all you need. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I have feelings too. Besides, you were fishing for the same.” Roderich smiled at Erzsébet, all prior theatrics tossed aside. “Now, are you coming home with us?”

“Thanks but no, I still want that weekend to myself. This has been more than enough excitement to get me through the next few days.” She waved them off, watching as they headed back in the direction of Roderich’s home. Once alone, she smiled in relief. Now her weekend could really begin.

#aph prussia #hws prussia #aph hungary #hws hungary #aph austria #hws austria #hetalia #aph fanfiction #hws fanfiction #aph fanfic #hws fanfic

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afy2018 · 3 years

Text

Escape to a Memory

1976- Toronto, Canada

“Do you have everything you need, babe?” Danny asked.

“Almost. You have the camera?”

“No, check under the bed.”

“Thanks.” Carmilla smiled, going back to their bedroom. “Found it!”

“Good, was it under the bed?”

“No, on the nightstand.”

“Now are you ready?” Danny asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” She check all over again in her green suitcase, and closed it.

“Let’s load up the Chevy.”

Carmilla kissed Danny’s cheek, and picked up the suitcases as Danny held the door open. The gate was open, so she continued until she reached the garage. Carmilla set down the cases, and unlocked the door, opening it and throwing them in the back. Danny followed close behind, standing close to her girlfriend and wrapped her arms around Carmilla’s front. The vampire looked up and kissed the fiery haired girl.

She smiled and hopped into the bed of the chevy. Danny smiled, and got into the front, starting up the car. She drove to her friend’s house, who was going to drop them off at the airport. Once they arrived at the house, Danny went over to the bed, and picked Carmilla up, swooping her over her shoulder.

“Danny!” Carmilla laughed. “AH! Babe!”

Danny set her down, and walked to the front door, knocking. “Mark? You home?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Mark said opening the door, his boyfriend in the kitchen.

“It’s okay. Good morning Charlie.”

“Morning Danny, Carmilla! Have fun on your trip.” The Gym Rabbit said.

“Thanks.”

“Ready?” Mark asked.

“Yeah.” Carmilla answered.

“Okay.” He turned around, and said “Bye sweetheart.”

“Bye.”

As the three walked to the truck, Danny swooped Carmilla into a bridal carry. and asked Mark, “So how’s it going with you and your oracle?”

“Great. He sees everything, but he’s been acting strange for a while. I don’t know.”

“Well, I hope it’s nothing bad.”

“Aussi.”

Carmilla kissed Danny as she was set into the truck. She smiled and buckled her seat belt, watching Danny form into a wolf and climb into the bed of the truck. She laughed when Danny slipped. Mark laughed a bit, and got into the front seat.

“So has the feeding been kind?” Mark asked.

“Yeah.” Carmilla answered. “Thanks again Mark for driving us.”

“No prob. You know, you and Danny are such an adorable couple. how long have you two known each other?”

“Since about 1951. What about you and Charlie?”

“About 6 years now. We met in chess club.”

“Was he a good player?”

“The best.”

“How about you?”

“I was good, but I got some tips from Charlie to help me out.”

Carmilla looked back at Danny, and smiled. “What’s it like being normal?”

“Normal? I’m dating an oracle. He knows everything I do. It’s not that normal.”

“True, but what about before you met him?”

“Well, I slept in, played board games, and hung out with my friends. What do you miss?”

“Aging, my family, Austria. I don’t mean to be a downer.”

“No, it’s okay. I wanted to know. I asked.”

“But if I had died when I was supposed to, I wouldn’t have met my wolf.”

“I think that is adorable.” Mark said grinning. “You two are perfect for eachother.”

“Je peux dire la même chose pour toi et Charles.”

“Oh bon?”

“Oui.”

“Merci.”

“Merci aussi.”

“Carmilla, je vais soin pour sa voiture. D’accord?”

“D’accord, merci Mark.”

Carmilla slept in the front as Mark listened to the radio. Danny rested but didn’t sleep. Mark smiled at the thought of Carmilla and Danny together, maybe even married...someday. As he neared the airport, Mark woke Carmilla up, and parked the car to unpack. Carmilla struggled into the bed of the truck, and kissed Danny awake. The wolf morphed into a human, and kissed Carmilla back, laughing at the shocked vampire. Carmilla broke the kiss and grabbed the suitcases.

“Thanks Mark.” Danny said waving the human good bye.

“No problem girls. See you.”

Danny and Carmilla walked into the airport, bought their tickets, and headed for the plane. Once on the plane, Carmilla cuddled into Danny and slept. Danny smiled and brushed the hair out of the smaller girl’s eyes. The wolf slept, dreaming of their travel. ‘Her and the vampire had arrived to the port, it was dark, but there was a pungent scent in the air. Drunk Americans walked around like toddlers taking their first step. But they were able to get on board easily.’ Carmilla shift around. ‘Her and the girl got to their cabin, and set down their stuff. They walked out, hand in hand, onto the deck. There was Mark, Charlie, and some of her co-workers. They were having a party with a cake that had confetti like sprinkles on it. They greeted them, and they ate. Carmilla kissed Danny and Mark told jokes. Danny blinked, and the boat turned into-’

“Babe, wake up. We’re landing.” Carmilla whispered excitedly. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Danny yawned in reply.

Danny cuddled into Carmilla who wrapped her arms around the tall girl. Once they landed, Carmilla woke Danny up again and they walked off the plane. The airport was large and loud. There were people yelling and talking. Danny winced at the noise and grabbed her girlfriend’s hand. They grabbed their bags quickly bypassing the people who stood like barriers. The two exited the airport and hailed a taxi. They climbed inside and told the driver where to go. Danny looked outside, there she saw hookers, police, and beggars as one large group. They seemed to act like friends. Danny looked away as one of the girls stared at the stopped car. Carmilla rested her head against the wolf’s shoulder and purred. They arrived at the boat about 3 minutes later. Danny grabbed the cases and waited for Carmilla.

“Can you get the tickets out of my jacket?” Dany asked.

“Yeah.” Carmilla reached into Danny’s jacket pocket and picked out the two tickets. “There.” “Thanks babe.”

“Ready?” Carmilla asked.

Danny nodded in response and they walked onto the boat, Carmilla right behind. She handed the tickets forward to a young man who wore a nice white suit. He smiled a toothy grin and greeted us, taking our tickets. He said something in a thick cajun accent.

Carmilla pulled ahead, and answered “Merci, garçon.”

The boy nodded and handed her a schedule. “Vous avez un bon voyage Madames.”

“Merci beaucoup.”

As they walked away, Danny asked Carmilla, “You speak french fluently?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

“No, you only speak english or german around me.”

“Let’s put our stuff away.”

Danny checked in, and got her key from the front desk. They looked back up to see the numbers on the door. When Danny found their suite, she unlocked the door. Carmilla rushed in and jumped onto their large bed. Danny smiled, and set her stuff down, closing and locking the door behind her. Carmilla motioned for the wolf to come closer. The ginger walked over and kissed her girlfriend. The vampire pulled Danny on top of her and unbuttoned her jeans. She kissed the wolf’s neck. Danny quickly rid of Carmilla’s clothes. She reached a hand into the vampire’s underwear, and rubbed her fingers through her slick folds. Continuing to tease and pleasure her girlfriend. Carmilla tore at the wolf, holding tight as she came. They kissed and held each other as the smaller girl fell down from her high.

“Danny.” Carmilla laughed. “I need a moment.”

Danny moved, away from Carmilla and grabbed the camera. She brought it up to her eye, and focused on her angel. Carmilla peaked over and smiled, taking one of the pillows and throwing it at her. They laughed as the vampire posed. Danny got about five pictures before Carmilla crawled over pulling the camera down, and kissed her. Danny broke the kiss and placed the camera back onto the nightstand. Carmilla backed off, and checked the paper given to her.

“There’s going to be a concert at 18:00.” Carmilla read slipping her glasses on.

“When’s the food served?”

“In 4 hours.”

“Okay, isn’t there a dance on the deck?”

“Yeah, it’s an hour before the concert.”

“We should go to that.”

“Yeah, that’d be fun.”

“Vous laissez cette salope blonde danser sur vous!” Carmilla yelled.

“Calm down babe.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down vous putain de gingembre!” She slapped the taller girl.

Danny grabbed her wrist and commanded, “Do not hit me again Mircalla.”

Carmilla hissed and pulled away. She walked to the bathroom and locked herself in. She sat up against the door and curled her fists up. The dark haired girl cried, pulling her legs up so she was in fetal position. Danny’s sharp ears heard the sobbing, and she hit the bed with fury. She was so enraged with herself. She walked out with one of the keys and walked to the bow of the boat. She cursed to herself and looked at the night sky. Her tears started rolling once she compared the sky to Carmilla’s eyes. When she returned, Carmilla was no longer in the bathroom. She was on the couch in her panther form, she was asleep. Danny clenched her jaw, and picked up the dark furred animal, setting her gently on the bed. Carmilla stirred and opened her eyes. Danny caught her glance, but laid down on the couch. ‘She’s so chivalrous.’ Carmilla though. ‘How could she hurt me like that? How?’ She turned her head away from Danny and slept on the bed. Danny, however, continued to look at the sleeping panther. She closed her eyes letting a single tear fall.

~ “Carmilla, they’re serving breakfast.” Danny whispered to the sleeping form.

The vampire murmured something but slowly got up.

“I’ll be there.”

The panther nodded, and started to shift back into a human. Carmilla walked over to her clothing and slipped them on. Danny walked out to the deck. She got a table and waited for Carmilla to arrive before she ate. The sleepy girl walked out and got her food. She found the wolf, and sat on the other side of the table.

“Sorry about hitting you Danny.” Carmilla said.

“Maybe not here, Carm.”

“Oh, yeah.”

They ate in silence, not really looking at each other. Danny was the first to leave, going back to their cabin. She went to go take a shower as she waited for Carmilla. The dark haired girl entered, sitting on the bed. When Danny got out, she only bothered to wear the towel. Carmilla smiled a bit as Danny sat next to her.

“It was my fault. I should have told the girl that I was already taken.”

“I over reacted though.”

“It was all on me, Carm.”

Carmilla looked away, glancing at the maroon shag carpet. “Pouvons-nous embrasser et le maquillage?”

“For now… the second part.”

Carmilla nodded and hugged Danny. The ginger held the black haired girl’s hips and the arm that was slung over her shoulder and around her neck. Carmilla nuzzled the ginger’s neck and smiled. Danny whispered a gaelic saying to Carmilla making the girl smile at the ancient language.

Carmilla opened her eyes, a film of tears still in her eyes even though she’d been here before. Many times before. The girl next to her put an arm around her shoulders She read the stone. ‘Danielle Lawrence ? - 2023: Tendre Mèrè, Copine, et Femme.’ The girl next to her rubbed the vampire’s back. A tiny girl in a black dress tugged at Carmilla’s skirt. Carmilla looked down and smiled, picking the girl up.

“Maman, pourquoi pleures-tu?” The little girl asked.

“Ma cherie, je me souviens. Je me souviens.” Carmilla answered

“Rentrons à la maison, maman.” The other girl said.

Carmilla nodded and walked to the black car.

#carmilla #Carmilla Karnstein #carmilla fanfic #carmilla fanfiction #danny lawrence #lawrenstein #femslash #lgbt #wlw #sfw #sfw fanfic

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dessiekarma · 5 years

Text

My Harem is Entirely Bad Boy Types (Kirisaki Daiichi x Reader) Pt. 3

Chapter Three: Get That Girl a Megane!

“No no no. You seem scared of the ball. Remember follow through with your wrist. Okay better, now try again.”

Hara was surprised at the voice coming out of the gym. The team never practiced during study period but the instruction as well as the sound of sneakers squeaking was undeniable. Peaking his head into gym he squinted to see (Y/N) and Matsumoto assisting the rest of the second-string players.

Matsumoto had a weird place with the team, he was in the first string but not part of their web. He was down for their rough plays but also usually wanted nothing to do with them outside of basketball and well that worked out just fine for everyone.

It was, however, a shock to see (Y/N) here helping him out. Hara and the others for that matter tended to forget that Kirisaki Daiichi had over twenty players total.

“Hey girl!” Hara whistled for (Y/N), knowing it would annoy her. Sure enough she turned her head slowly to cast him a frustrated look before sighing and walking over.

“Whadya want Hara? I told you not to call me girl.”

“And I told you not to call me Hara, we should be on first name basis by now.”

“Kazu-chan.”

“Not that either! Whatever! What are you doing in here anyway?”

“Managing the team. What else?”

“You know this isn’t really the team right?” Hara whispered cattily. “I mean most of them aren’t bad but they’ll only ever get to play an actual game once all of us graduate.”

“I know you guys are the main players but there’s a lot of first years on the team. They’ll inherit it, and don’t you think its better to leave a legacy as opposed to just graduating and letting the team crumble.”

“I don’t really think about that sort of thing and I don’t think Hanamiya cares. Come on, you’re supposed to being doing stuff for us. Besides what do you even know about basketball?”

“I did date a basketball player, ya know? I mean I would never be able to play an actual game but I’m pretty good at shooting. That’s a foundational skill so I might as well teach these guys, right?”

“I guess, hey where’s Mako?” Hara said as if the thought suddenly popped into his mind.

“Umm right here.” (Y/N) said with a quirked brow, pointing to the baby sling around her torso. “Did you not see him?”

“Oh I guess I just didn’t notice. Good job finding a way to carry him around while you’re busy.”

“Well yeah I needed to, since you suck so badly at taking care of him.” (Y/N) said poking Hara’s side.

The male was about to retort before a ding on his phone caught his attention. Opening the text, he was greeted with an image of a scantily clad girl. Without thinking about it (Y/N) tiptoed to see his phone and whistled.

“She’s hot! Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s not and don’t nonchalantly call other girls hot!”

“Why not?”

“Because you aren’t a lesbian!”

“Says who?”

“W-what? You had a boyfriend!”

“Hmm I guess I did. You’re so funny to tease Kazu-chan!” The girl exclaimed with a laugh before giving him a wave and heading back to practice.

Hara frowned as his manager blurred back into the background of players. Blinking his eyes hard a few times he sighed and closed the door to the gym.

‘So can you come over tonight?’

The lavender haired male looked down at the text message from the girl in the picture and mulled it over. Scrolling through his camera reel he sized up his options.

‘My parents are overseas on a business trip, so we have the place to ourselves.’

Welp that was good enough for him. She wasn’t his first choice but she’d responded the quickest with the least hassle.

Typing out a quick response, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and made his way out the gym.

~~~~~

“What’s with all this?” Seto asked motioning to the dozen new charms and button dangling from (Y/N)’s backpack.

She looked up from her phone quickly to see what her friend was pointing at before quickly returning back to her screen.

“My new obsession! He’s a character from Paranormal Payphone. Basically, it’s a new game where these boys call me from a payphone at certain times of the day and he’s my favourite!”

“What’s so great about this character in particular?” Hara asked grabbing at the small figure on the zipper.

“Besides the fact that he looks like Imayoshi.” Furuhashi retorted tiredly, before his own comment snapped him out of it.

Everyone including (Y/N) was looking at him in disbelief. It was an unspoken rule that they avoid mentioning him around the girl, unless she brought him up first. They’d learned the hard way that when mentioning anything to do with Tōō there was a 50/50 chance she would cry.

Surprisingly no tears came to (Y/N)’s eyes, instead she wrinkled her nose and let out a scoff.

“I don’t see it! And I will not let that deter me from loving my best boy!”

“Well clearly you have a type.” Hanamiya said sizing up the buttons. He’d never played the game nor even heard of it before now but with otaku shit…you could kind of tell which characters were assholes or not.

“Hmm? I just think he’s cute is all! Like those glasses for instance! I always end up falling for the megane characters. Kyoya Ootori, Rei Ryugazaki, Austria, Tenya Iida!”

The guys listened to her ramble off a long list of glasses characters.

“She talking so fast, I didn’t understand half of what she just said.” Seto remarked as the girl slowed down to think of more characters.

“I’m pretty sure she named a whole ass country in there.” Hara laughed blowing a large bubble.

The guys were almost amused by the girl’s stupid antics and none of them noticed the sudden milk carton that came flying towards their table. It was only after they noticed their manager tense up from the sudden impact on her head that they all, without thought, got up from the table threateningly.

“Who the fuck threw that!?” Hara snapped out casting a glance to (Y/N) who looked stunned as milk dripped off her forehead and down her back.

Only after their initial defensive move did they notice a girl on her knees not to far behind where (Y/N) was sitting. Her tray was splayed on the ground, after having apparently tripped.

“Sorry! I should have watched where I was going!”

“That’s okay!” (Y/N) said wiping the liquid off her face. “No use crying over spilt milk after al-”

She stopped midsentence as she turned to the girl who had not gotten up off the ground. The boys all noticed an unspoken exchange between the two. Yamazaki watched the situation like a hawk not prepared to let the girl take a step closer to (Y/N).

“Hopefully you get yourself cleaned up, I’m sure you hate being…dirty.” The girl said with a smiling face but snark laced in her voice. With that she walked away and the guys looked back and forth between the two.

“There’s no damn way she tripped, you know that right?” Seto asked finally taking a seat along with the rest.

“Yeah I know but it’s not surprising.”

“Because she’s Y-”

“I went to middle school with her. We had some bad blood between us and I thought she’d gotten over it. I didn’t even know she went here. I didn’t think anyone I used to know before came to this school.” (Y/N) said looking more and more concerned as she spoke.

“Before what?” Hanamiya asked analyzing the girl’s face.

“Before highschool! I was so cringey in middle school!” (Y/N) said now back to her normally cheerful self. “But I’ve been here for a few months now, I wonder what triggered her to suddenly lash out on me.”

“Probably because she’s Yam- oww! Fuck!” Hara called out rubbing his shin from under the table, clearly having been kicked.

“It doesn’t matter. I just… Oh no! My plush got all wet.” (Y/N) said lifting a sopping wet miniature plush of the character she’d just been fangirling over.

All of the guys suddenly felt a pang through their chests at just how sad her voice had sounded.

Getting up from the table, Furuhashi walked over to the girl’s side of the table and extended his hand to her.

“Come on, let’s go wash your clothes and your Jaeyoung plush. We have a washer and dryer in the gym.” He said smiling at her, hoping to get her sad face a little brighter.

Sure, enough she grinned back at him before taking his hand and disappearing out of the lunch room.

“How did he know the character’s name!? Why didn’t I think to take her to wash her clothes?” Yamazaki cried out as the two disappeared from sight.

“He probably goggled it while she was fangirling. Clever bastard.” Hara said kind of impressed with Furuhashi.

“You do know this is your fault, right?” Hanamiya asked Yamazaki who looked completely offended. “Don’t act so shocked. You know the real reason Mai went after (Y/N) and then you didn’t even stand up for her.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Exactly. Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve and then be surprised when certain people notice.”

“Whatever, I’m gonna go take care of this.” Yamazaki said storming off from the table in the direction of the girl who left earlier.

~~~~~

“What the hell is she wearing?” Hanamiya asked trying not to look at the girl sitting on the bleachers.

“The back of her skirt had gotten wet too. She needed to put something on while it was in the wash.” Furuhashi explained.

The flustered male glanced over to where (Y/N) was swinging her legs with the number 4 Kirisaki Daiichi jersey on.

“Why’d you have to use mine?!”

“You’re the shortest.”

“I’m only one inch shorter than Yamazaki!”

“Yeah but you’re thinner and a whole size smaller. This was the only thing that came closest to fitting her.”

(Y/N) was leaning back on her elbows, her eyes not leaving her phone and Hara’s eyes not leaving her. After a few minutes she turned to him with a quirked brow.

“What?”

“You’re not wearing a bra.”

“I was but the milk soaked all the way through. What’s it to ya?”

“I can see a lot through the sleeves of the jersey. I can also see that you must be pretty cold in here after your shower. You look good.” Hara said with a teasingly seductive voice.

“Yeah? Push that dry over processed hair out your face and you could probably enjoy the view even more.”

“Bitch.” Hara grumbled as he patted the baby sling around his chest. Smirking he thought he’d try again. “So, no bra huh? Do you have any panties on underneath those basketball shorts?”

“Why don’t you check for yourself? Maybe we’re wearing a matching set.” The girl deadpanned back, this time not even tearing her attention away from her phone.

Hara grew red in the face and began to sputter.

“Stop teasing him (Y/N), you know you have your anti-pervert shorts on under that.” Furuhashi said coming up to pat the top of her damp hair.

“Damn, how does it feel to have a girl as quick and snarky as you?” Seto asked Hara with a laugh.

“It’s cause she’s a otaku! All of those types are huge perverts!”

“You’re hardly fit to be calling someone a pervert.” Hanamiya spoke up, finally able to gain his composure over the manager wearing his jersey.

“I’m not a pervert. All you guys wish you could pull a different girl a week like I do.”

“More like you can’t keep a girl for more than a week.” Seto chuckled tossing a basketball up in the air.

“Why are you guys always picking on me! We’re supposed to be a team!”

“Speaking of teams. Hey stupid, you’re coming with us to the Seirin vs Rakuzan game next week.” Hanamiya said to the girl.

“What why would we go to that?”

“Because Caps is obsessed with Kiyoshi.” Hara remarked only to receive a hard fist in his ribs.

“Fuck off! It’s because I want to see just how well a team that beat us does.”

“That’s understandable. I guess I can have my driver take me to the-”

An obnoxious ringtone cut the girl off from her thoughts. Pulling her phone out she looked at the name and groaned. She appeared to be hyping herself up before hitting talk.

“Hey Shoi-chan.”

All the guys suddenly snapped their heads up at the cutesy nickname. Shoi-chan as in Imayoshi Shoichi?

“I’m ummm with my team.”

The reprimanding on the other end of the phone was hard to make out but clearly a voice of disapproval.

“Did you just call me to bitch at me or did you actually need something!?” (Y/N) said with a scowl, startling the guys who had never really heard that tone from her.

“Umm that’s fine, I guess. When? Okay. At the usual place? Sure, I’ll see you then. Bye Shoi-chan.”

“Do you actually still talk to that guy?!” Hara exclaimed barely waiting for her finger to lift of the end call button.

“Well yeah. I was a part of his team for a year and regardless of anything, he’s still really important to me.” (Y/N)’s voice sounded gravely serious and held a deeply sad tone. The brimming of tears in her eyes got blinked away quickly but it was clear to see their shared past was hurting her.

“He doesn’t like us.” Seto responded glancing down at the manager.

“I know. But…it wasn’t just my ex ya know? My entire team at Tōō didn’t agree with me coming here and definitely didn’t agree with me joining the team. After the breakup, nearly all of them called or found me to try and talk some sense into me.”

“And Imayoshi asked you to meet with him, right?” Hanamiya asked.

“Yeah he says he wants to talk. All this time has gone by and he’s never tried to come find me to talk to me face to face just over the phone. I need to see him. I…miss him.”

“Then you should go. It’s not like we’re gonna try to stop you. We’re a bunch of cheating, violent bastards but we aren’t going to tell you who you can and cant talk to.” Hanamiya said with a shrug. “Just think for yourself. You’re an idiot but you’re not clueless, so don’t let him think for you got it?”

“Yeah I know you’re right.”

“So where are you guys gonna meet up?” Furuhashi asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“Juniper café, why?”

“Just curious.”

~~~~~

‘Why are we even here?!’ Hara text the group message before slamming his head on the table.

‘Because I want to know what exactly Imayoshi is gonna tell her. Nobody asked you to come you know?’ Furuhashi responded quickly

‘What’s with you guys and the huge spike in interest over (Y/N) recently? I thought it would die out eventually but you guys are falling for her hard!’

“Well I liked her from the start!” Yamazaki joined in, sipping a cold tea.

‘I just think she’s cute, never gonna have a chance with her but I had nothing better to do today.’ Seto finally typed out, drinking a cup of what was probably just 15 espresso shots.

‘She could make an interesting self-selected candidate for me.’ Furuhashi added in.

‘Candidate for what?’ Yamazaki asked, much more chill after accepting the fact that he was not alone in his pursuit of (Y/N).

‘I don’t want to say until I know for sure.’

‘What about you Hanamiya? You’re being awfully silent on why you’re here.’ The orange-haired male typed out quickly.

‘Not for that idiot, that’s for damn sure. I’m here to make sure Imayoshi doesn’t put shit in her head that will cause problems for ME. Besides I want to know who she really is when she doesn’t know we’re around.’

‘Why is she running so late?’ Seto asked before peeping over the bench, where Imayoshi had been waiting for about ten minutes now. His back was to the team and they figured if they stayed down and quiet (Y/N) wouldn’t notice they were there.

“Sorry I’m late! There was a sale on manga at the bookstore down the block!” A familiar voice called out as she burst into the room.

‘That explains it.’ Nearly all the boys text at the same time.

“It’s no worries. I got you, your usual. Did you find anything good?”

“Thanks. I was able to find a few things…umm why are you staring at me?”

“You’ve gotten so much more beautiful in the few months I hadn’t seen you.”

Seto pretended to gag as the rest of the team rolled their eyes.

“Stop it, I look the same.”

“No, you look happier…and that isn’t easy for me to admit. Ohh what’s this?”

“Oh umm this is Mako.”

“My my I leave you alone for a few months and you’re already a teenage mother, so soon after a breakup. Were you cheating?” Imayoshi said in a teasing voice. “Mako. I’ll assume my sweet little kouhai is the father?”

Hanamiya made a move to stand up and fight when the other guys grabbed his limbs to drag him back down to seating position.

“It’s a project I’m doing with Hara Kazuya.”

“The gum munching kid with the hair in his eyes?”

“Yeah…”

There was a silence that washed over the table and the guys held their breaths wondering who would speak next. Surprisingly it was Imayoshi.

“Look, I’ll get right to the point of why I came here. I want you to come back to Tōō with me. The team misses our little cheerleader, even Aomine asked about you the other day.”

“I do miss you guys but I won’t leave them.”

“The bad boys of KiriDai? Why exactly are you so stuck to them? Hmm? You detested them as much as the rest of us when you saw the Seirin game. What changed? Don’t tell me its simple physical attraction, you’re much smarter than that.”

“I guess when I first saw that game…I thought they were bad people. But now I think…I know…sometimes good people do bad things. I think that deep down they’re good people. They’ve done horrible, really horrible things but they’ve also been really good to me.”

The team was more or less stunned by (Y/N)’s honest answer.

“‘Deep down they are good people?’ You sweet girl, I’ve told you a million times over that there’s no such thing as a good person.”

Hanamiya felt the same chill run down his spine as the one he had when he first met Imayoshi. He’s said that very phrase to him as well.

“I don’t believe that Shoi-chan.”

“Because you’ll take it personally. You desperately need to think that you’re a good person and that your m-”

“I don’t need to think anything. I know who I am, and I’ve made peace with that.”

“But you haven’t made peace with the other half, have you? Ahh its to be expected, you’re young after all and with the life you’ve had you need to cling onto something. I came to you because I really am worried about you. Your insistence on staying with this team is self-destructive, I would go as far to call it self-harm. You know they’ll hurt you…haven’t you been hurt enough?”

“I have but not by them. Not yet.”

“Then don’t give them that chance. You know our fears aren’t unprecedented. Think about it, since going to that school and associating yourself with them, has anyone tried befriending you? Does anyone try talking to you when they don’t have to? You’re alienating yourself. You’re giving yourself a reputation and isn’t that the exact reason you left Tōō?”

“I left Tōō because I have a goal and to make it happen, I need connections.”

“I see, you’ve told yourself that enough times to actually believe that’s the reason. Stop punishing yourself, stop trying to fix broken people, and stop letting others hurt you.”

“But Shoi-chan…YOU hurt me. All of Tōō did. You guys saw what was happening to me there and nobody said anything. You were all afraid to get involved, all too worried about yourselves. You told me to ignore what the people said but you never tried to make them stop.” The guys heard (Y/N) take in a shaking breath and couldn’t figure if she was crying or just about to.

“Someone threw milk on my head yesterday and every single one of the KiriDai boys got up ready to fight someone. One of them even helped me get cleaned up.”

“They all have you tangled deep in the spider’s web, don’t they? Once you realize that, you’ll never get out. They can predict exactly how you’ll react and change their personalities to be exactly what you want them to be. It’s not just a basketball technique, it’s a manipulation technique. You really think you’re something special to them? Think they’ll hurt anyone who crosses them but not you?”

The boys could hear the whirl of the coffee machine and the chatter of other patrons. They could hear the cars outside and even (Y/N)’s shallow breathing before a sudden sharp intake.

“I’m not anything special…but they wouldn’t hurt me unprovoked. Because I’m not trapped in their web, I’m part of it!” The boys felt the movement of (Y/N) push up out of her seat.

“KiriDai is everything you say they are but they’re also a team. They may not give a fuck about anyone else, but they at least give half a fuck about each other and that’s already more than you can say for Tōō. They won’t hurt me, because I’m one of them and if anyone from Tōō is not okay with that…then I’m not okay with anyone from Tōō. Thanks for the coffee Shoi-chan.”

The guys ducked their heads a bit as the girl stormed out of the café. They heard a deep sigh followed by some chuckling from Imayoshi’s table.

“She’s hard-headed. I’m surprised you stubborn bunch have been able to handle her for as long as you have.”

Most of the boys bristled, save for Seto and Hanamiya who had long since figured Imayoshi knew they were there. Standing up from their seats they turned to glare down Imayoshi who was giving them his signature creepy smirk.

“How could you sit there across from her and tell her how shitty we were when you wouldn’t even defend your own girlfriend. You give her your emotionally abusive ‘leave your friends or I’ll break up with you.’ bullshit and yet you think she’s better off going back to school with you? Her shitty ex who wants to control her?” Yamazaki ranted out, saying everything he was gonna dream of saying later.

“‘Shitty ex?’ Such a foul mouth with so much anger behind those words. Don’t tell me you’ve already developed an attraction to her? Is that why you’re keeping her around? To use her?”

“I would never do that!” Yamazaki belted out.

“No, I suppose even (Y/N) wouldn’t give you the time of day. None of you are really her type, after all. But I don’t blame you for falling for her, she is quite the catch. Not that any of it matters, she’ll come back to me and Tōō soon. It’s only a matter of time you see.”

“And why exactly would you believe that?” Hanamiya asked with a deep scowl.

“If I’m not mistaken, in a few months you’ll have a scrimmage with Yosen. It’s in your very nature to go about your usual rough play. (Y/N) isn’t a ref, she will be able to see every despicable and clever trick you pull. I wonder if she’ll still think you’re good people then?”

Imayoshi slipped through the group and made his way to the exit before turning around with that smirk.

“Do remember that she was mine first and I will get her back.” With that Imayoshi was out of the building and turning the corner as the Kirisaki Daiichi team stared after him.

“How did he and (Y/N) actually date? What does she see in him?” Seto asked wondering how that couple could have ever worked out.

“It’s because he’s a megane.” Furuhashi commented flatly.

~~~~~

“Wow Furu you look so good!” (Y/N) exclaimed while burping the baby on her shoulder.

Furuhashi gave her a small smile as he adjusted his glasses. They were the first two to make it to the game and were waiting outside for the others.

“What the hell?!” Yamazaki exclaimed as he saw Furu.

He and Hanamiya made their way towards them, both donning a pair of glasses. (Y/N) stopped patting Mako’s back to gawk at the three bespeckled males. Covering her mouth with her hand she left out a soft snort.

“Did I miss a team memo? Why are all you guys wearing glasses?”

Furuhashi and Yamazaki glared at each other, neither having anticipated the other to pull the same stunt. Hanamiya rolled his eyes and cursed his fate for the suspicious situation.

“Since the game was gonna be crowded, we figured we would have to sit pretty far. The guys needed the glasses, so they wouldn’t miss anything.” Seto said, stepping out of a pretty nice car and waving to the driver to take off. He didn’t seem to have had the same idea as the others.

“Ahh that makes sense! Hara should be in there already, holding out seats for u-” The girl didn’t get to finish her sentence as purposeful shoulder came and crashed into her own. Whipping her head around the girl snapped her tongue.

Tōō stood not more than a few feet from her and Imayoshi had a teasing grin on his face. The rest of the team looked like they couldn’t actually believe (Y/N) was even standing next to the KiriDai team. Not turning her head, (Y/N) shot a hand out to grab Furuhashi as he had already taken a threatening step towards Imayoshi.

Her hand delicately wrapped around the male’s wrist didn’t go unnoticed by the members of Tōō. Imayoshi sighed before chuckling his mean-spirited laugh that (Y/N) always hated.

“That’s kind of cute, isn’t it? You’ve got your pet tarantula on a leash. To think you changed pets from an obedient puppy to this creature.”

“Is he referring to himself?” Seto mumbled with a grimace. “More like a feral cat.”

“Is that a baby?!” Wakamatsu suddenly bust out, taking notice of what (Y/N) was holding. The whole team snapped their eyes to her arms. Some looked baffled while certain people looked genuinely concerned. “No way, is that the real reason you went to Kirisaki Daiichi!?”

(Y/N)’s face held no emotion and she gave no comment before charging past the team knocking her own shoulders with Imayoshi and a nervous looking brown-haired kid who had been avoiding eye contact with KiriDai the entire time.

“Ehh my sweet little (Y/N), that was rude. Not even a word to poor Ryo. Looks like you boys are reverting her faster than I expected.” Imayoshi teased looking at her walk into the stadium.’’

“What the hell does that mean!?” Yamazaki spit out.

“I just mean that perhaps you’ll find how quickly you’ll rub off on her.”

“Well then I guess that means you’d all better watch your backs.” Hanamiya said pushing through the team as well and following after their manager. “After all the female spider is more venomous than her counterpart.”

With that the team walked inside leaving behind a slightly shaken Tōō and a particularly impressed former Miracle.

~~~~~

“They were amazing!” (Y/N) exclaimed walking out into the cold with her team. “Their teamwork and skills were beyond belief! That’s true basketball!”

“It was really great game. You guys wanna go grab ramen or something?” Seto asked with a yawn.

“Ehh I’m not hungry.” Hanamiya responded quickly.

“I don’t want to spend too much. How about we go to Maji Burger instead? It’s really close by.” (Y/N) suggested scrolling through her phone.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Seto said looking to the other guys who nodded except for Hanamiya who sighed heavily.

“Ya’ll go, but I’m heading home.”

“What no come on! We can’t go as a team if we don’t have our captain!” (Y/N) exclaimed reaching for his hand only for him to jerk it away quickly.

“What the hell does it matter? I’m not even that hungry!”

“Please please please please please! Go with us! I’ll pay!”

“….Ugh fine!”

(Y/N) let out a small whoop before snatching Hanamiya’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. Once again, he jerked out of her touch but the girl was content.

“Alright so Maji Burger it is.” Seto said as the team began walking in the right direction. There was a question on everyone’s minds and surprisingly it was Seto who had the gall to ask (Y/N). “Hey so out of curiosity are you tight on money right now?”

The team looked to her. If there was one thing KiriDai girls weren’t worried about it was spending money. Hanamiya was the first to turn away, figuring it was probably a personal matter for her. The others didn’t have as much tact and pressed on.

“Oh don’t worry about me. My financial situation is…comfortable. But I don’t like asking for things and want to pay for stuff on my own. Right now I have saved a good amount of my money for a trip back home during winter break.”

“Back home?” Yamazaki asked, slowing down to walk beside her.

“To America! That’s where I’m from. I’ve been living in Japan since I was about 8 but I go and visit often”

The guys took in that information pretty easily. They’d figured as much based on her appearance as well as the accent she spoke in.

“Well I hope your trip goes well and…what is that!?” Yamazaki asked pointing an accusing finger at the girl’s phone charm.

“Hmm a phone charm? It’s Zun from Paranormal Payphone.”

“I thought you liked Jaeyoung?!”

“Well I did but then I played Zun’s route and he was soooo cute!”

“But he’s not a megane!”

“Hmm? Megane are cute but that isn’t all I look for in my type!”

“Ahhh!” Yamazaki let out a sound of frustration before taking the fake glasses off his face.

Furuhashi had long since removed his, as they only got in the way during the game. Both of them turned to Hanamiya, waiting for him to remove them as well.

The raven-haired male looked away from his team before pushing his glasses higher up on his nose.

“Fuck off! Unlike you two I need these! My contacts tore!”

(Y/N) tried to suppress a laugh but a giggle escaped her lips.

“Cute!” She mumbled much to her captain’s displeasure.

“Fuck off fuck off fuck off!”

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worldcakecakecake · 5 years

Text

On Deutschland and Italia by Lovino Valenti

Lovino writes a series of blog entries on the relationship between Germany and Italy as he deals with a move to Hamburg, his brother’s wedding, and his budding romance (which he denies) to the infuriating Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Hahaha…hahahaha…hahaha…as you can probably tell, I have absolutely no control. Here, have yet ANOTHER new story that I have had here in the works for a while too. Another new pairing, prumano, which I admit is another of my favorites in the fandom and this is my diving into it as well.

This is done as a gift to a dear friend, Nikki, one of their accounts here at tumblr being @ask-the-icelandic-little. She has helped me several time with the stories, especially with the German in them and even helped me to write a letter so I could get my year visa here in Germany. She has been a great follower and friend and thus I honor her with this story. It is set in Hamburg as it her home and the place we managed to meet and spend some wonderful time together.

I hope this story is a well enough gift and hope other readers enjoy it as well.

Fair warning: Lovino is incredibly biased in writing these articles and can write very negatively about Germany. Things can even come as negative even for Italy and I apologize incredibly if you are deeply offended or you do not agree with the mention. I do admit that Lovino is MEANT to be this biased about Germany and I’m just exploring his thought process during the situation. But, I am extremely willing to hear better accuracies and how I can improve Lovino’s blogs. So please have no fear in messaging.

When it comes to updating, same as some of the last stories I’ve posted.

Chapter 1

On Deutschland and Italia.

Germania and the Roman Empire.

Aldrich Beilschmidt and Augusto Valenti.

The Roman Empire shared a northern border with Germania. Both groups trained and lived to fight, one making wars and pillaging enough to be considered one of the strongest empires in our history, the other the very one that brought this power its end. But before that, the Romans and Germanics lived in relative peace. Although the Romans kept trying to push into their land, Germanics themselves kept seeking entrance into the empire, wanting to live as Romans did, joining their armies, even seeking marriage. At first, the Romans denied many of these chances and it took many years of fighting and other casualties for the Romans to start giving them these permissions. Germanics talked often of the Romans, wanting to be like them, getting their items that they used for their own. And it was shared, for Romans were just as wondered by their brightness of their hair, eyes and skin, their own forms of battle, even their culture, which was extensively written about and it’s the reason we have information of the Germanics in the first place. The downside is that it’s all written by Romans.

These Germanics settled well in the territory, some even reaching high positions to lead even their own groups. Sadly, it was throughout this that they managed to get enough men to sack Rome, a dwindling of the empire beginning since then.

Aldrich Beilschmidt, esteemed for owning the famous ‘Beilschmidt Services’, the high demanded mechanic shop with the best state of the art technology that can get your car fixed like new. Augusto Valenti, founder of the restaurants ‘Antico’, the most acclaimed Italian restaurant in all of Hamburg, perhaps even Germany and I’m not writing that simply because he’s my grandfather.

These two figures hold a friendship that many have watched for years. They went to school together, traveled across Europe and even Africa and Asia together, they were the best man for each other’s wedding and each is a godfather to one of their children.

Who better to begin on this special series of articles about the relationship between Germany and Italy than two men of experience and stories that can well represent this great empire and these proud tribes.

They met in 1949, through a still reconstructing Europe after the second world war, in Denmark, where they were both attending a specialized boarding school. They formed a peculiar friendship, a shield to all the insults of ‘Nazi scum’ or ‘Mussolini mafia’ that they were shot at everybody, bonding over honey buns and which kid was bullying them more.

As the years passed, they managed rooming together, even took respecting trips to Germany and Italy to know their countries and even their families. Each adopted the other, both growing a relationship that was more like brothers each day.

On 1962, Aldrich wedded Louis Oelberg and Augusto, Helena Stefanidis, only by a mere month apart. Although Augusto and Helena only had a single daughter, my mother, Renata Valenti, Aldrich and Louis had three. The two elder boys, Marcellus and Karl Beilschmidt, and their youngest daughter, Monika Beilschmidt, who was born around the same time as Renata. Aldrich became Renata’s godfather, as Augusto to Monika, these two little girls continuing well that friendship, uniting the families through feasts, dinners, chats over the phone, their balconies, their front doors, through every step of their children’s growth, through the death of Helena, for when Marcellus left to Austria and Karl to Switzerland following love, trips, graduations, weddings and any other new births. It was following this friendship that Augusto established himself for some years here in Hamburg, Aldrich offering help to get Augusto opening that restaurant he often spoke and even dreamt of having outside of Italy. It is the reason why I came here when I was three and lived for about two years, before homesickness attacked well my family and we were once again brought back to Italy for many years before…once again, Hamburg, Germany, called us back…because there’s nothing in the world that can stop my grandfather’s ultimate epic romance with Aldrich Beilschmidt.

Now you must be wondering if I, Augusto Valenti’s eldest grandson, heir to the family’s power, has continued well this long family friendship to the great Beilschmidts. I’m sorry, but this is one of the many things I disappoint my family in.

To be honest, I can’t stand any of them, but if there’s one that takes the throne of holding my ultimate hatred, it’s Gilbert Beilschmidt.

There was Monika Beilschmidt and Renata Valenti, exchanging gossip, snacks and any new events happening in the city. Their two youngest sons, Ludwig Beilschmidt and Feliciano Valenti, both two years old, played in a sand box, trying to build castles or pretend foods with their toy molds, a corner just for them which both the mothers could watch them from. Lovino Valenti, Renata’s eldest, chose to sit by his mother, bored, pouting, hands wrapped on his chest angry and even vengeful. The four-year-old kept his heavy stare on the monkey bars, on the big slides and high levels to climb on, with countless games or fake horses to ride, and yet he was not part of it, as any boy his age should.

“Lovino, carino, go on, play,” Renata had tried to usher him, but Lovino would just pout more, wrapping his arms more strongly around him, as if trying to chain himself to the bench.

“Gilbert is out there. I’m sure he’d love for you to play with him.” It was just at the mention that a loud laugh echoed across the playground, said albino boy having found a way to climb the biggest pole, hanging himself from it and waving around a large toy sword, seeming to claim the entire area as his own.

Monika groaned and hid her face in shame in her hands while Renata giggled.

Lovino didn’t want to mention that he was the real reason he refused to stand up, so he just remained as silent as he had arrived to the park.

“Or you can play with Antonio and Francis,” Renata continued to suggest.

Both these boys kept a further slide and small climbing rock to themselves, taking rounds and finishing by picking some of their dolls and action figures they brought to play, all laid across the sand just for them.

Lovino sighed, guessing they will do, finally standing and making his reach. He kept out of eye sight from the raging albino, hiding well until he reached Antonio and Francis’s playing domain.

“Hi,” he shyly introduced himself.

Antonio perked and gave a large smile, running over and even embracing Lovino tightly, something the other was already used to, so he didn’t bother in pushing him off as he usually did, especially when he was trying to avoid getting a lot of attention…thus getting Gilbert’s attention.

“Hi, Lovino! Are you okay? You look kind of scared,” the young Spanish boy worried.

“Can I…can I play with you and Francis?” He asked yet with that very fear.

“Of course, you can! Right now we’re trying to solve a murder mystery! Someone killed Dusky the mime and we think it was Dawny the clown!”

And Lovino joined, partaking in all the action they imagined, using well the slide, the rock climbing, the toys, creating an array that had even others joining. Many began to notice, adults thinking it sweet, other children wanting to partake, even those that played along with Gilbert.

“So, it was Ernest the bat this entire time,” Elizabeta wondered as she saw from one of the top levels of the jungle gym.

“They shouldn’t have interrogated Spotti like they did,” Sadiq added.

“What are you guys staring at anyways?” Gilbert finally dropped from the ceiling, getting between them and wanting a better watch. “What are they doing?” He demanded to know.

“Solving a murder.”

“They just finished interrogating Ernest the bat and they’re going to arrest him.” Sadiq pointed to Lovino, who for now, did the guard that was taking the bat plush away, meant to be hidden under the slide as the pretend prison.

“Oh look, Lovino is playing,” Gilbert grinned evilly.

“Leave him alone, Gilbert,” Elizabeta warned, but Gilbert scoffed.

“I think someone should break in and free Ernest,” he decided, jumping over the rails, sliding down a pole, reaching the ground and running off to the scene.

Lovino had just placed the plush, pretending to close an imaginary cell. “And you’re staying there forever!” He declared, thinking he could turn to deal with the injuries Justin the bear had suffered in the heist. He was completely unprepared for when a new presence slid well under the slide, arising dust into the air, making Lovino cough and wave his hands trying to get clearance. When it all settled, Ernest was not in his prison anymore, instead, in the high arms of Gilbert Beilschmidt at the other side of the slide.

“It is not over! Ernest is free again! And he will not rest until he has his vengeance,” Gilbert shouted.

“No! He has to stay in there!” Lovino went to get it back, but Gilbert was taller and could keep the plush high in the air, not a reach for Lovino no matter how hard he jumped.

“Give it back! Give it back!”

“No, I want to keep him!” Gilbert even went and embraced the plush.

“He’s not yours!”

“Not yours either!”

“You weren’t even supposed to play!”

“I can if I want to! You can’t boss me around!” They kept turning and jumping across the area, Gilbert even beginning to laugh loudly at Lovino’s continued attempts that were foolish now.

“Why can’t you ever leave me alone?!” Lovino was getting furious, his grasps now more harsh, dangerous, his nails seeming to grow into claws now.

“Cause, it’s fun! You always get so funny when you get like this!” And there was that laugh, evil and haunting in Lovino’s mind, annoying, and there was nothing more that he wanted than for it to stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.

One of those grasps became a push. It wasn’t hard, it was only a little touch to Gilbert’s stature, but it created an instant halting, Gilbert staring at the area he pushed for some sort of marking. There was nothing, but to Gilbert, the fact that Lovino dared touch him, was mark and insult enough. The glare he grew was predatory-like, his grip on Ernest the Bat harsh, Antonio and Francis fearing he would break it from where they stood staring.

“You’re not…supposed…to touch me!” He shouted, throwing Ernest to the sand.

“Then just leave me alone!” Lovino dared come forward with another push, but that very extend of his arms, Gilbert used them to throw him to the ground, beside the plush. The other kids scurried back in fear.

Before Lovino was given a chance to stand, Gilbert was on him, kicking, punching, scratching and Lovino answered the same way. Children called, the scene one that began to take attention, Monika and Renata noticing, having to jump instantly to stop both their sons’ fighting. By the time both the mothers had departed them, both the boys were already covered in new cuts and bruises, Lovino sending a kick for another, Gilbert his own, both trying to break from their mothers’ hold to continue.

“Gilbert! Gilbert! Stop! That is enough!” Monika shouted commandingly, having to embrace his whole body to get him to still any angered movement.

“Lovino! Lovino! Calm down! Calm down! Stop this!” Renata in turn had to pick him up, hold him to his shoulder, rub his back, a lulling that always made its effect.

They were causing a large stare, one that the mothers were beginning to find intrusive, and so both, with shared glances of apology, decided that it was best to leave and talk about this with their sons back in their own homes. As to not have anymore interactions, they quickly picked their things, having to pull apart Ludwig and Feliciano and leave hurriedly. Both the toddlers complained and cried, making it more difficult with their elders glaring and pouting as they made their way to their respective cars.

Renata lived with her father, husband and two sons in the apartments above the restaurant, a pretty active street in the city almost as lively as it had been in Rome. Renata greeted the waiters and workers she knew worked this shift before taking the brightly red painted door that led upwards, the three meeting the delightful scent of freshly made lunch that even coated the stairs. Renata placed Feliciano on the ground, the little boy confidently, although with some difficulty, making the rest of his climb up.

“Pasta! Pasta! Pasta!” He shouted as he ran towards the kitchen, crushing into the hold of his grandfather, who smiled, taking him up in his arms to kiss and blow raspberries on his stomach.

“Yes! I have made lots of pasta for you and your brother to stuff yourselves!”

Feliciano celebrated and Augusto laughed, expecting the same smile and eagerness from his older grandson, but he entered the room maddened, looking away from even all the tomatoes he had placed on the table.

“And what’s with that face, piccolo pomodoro?” Augusto neared, wanting his embraces and kisses now, but Lovino huffed and moved back.

“I hate Gilbert!” He proclaimed loudly.

Augusto sighed, gazing over to Renata to hear a better explanation.

“The usual,” she rolled her eyes.

“What did he do this time?” Augusto picked up Lovino to sit on the counter, so he could tell his story at eye level.

“I was playing with Antonio and Francis, we were solving this murder and had finally caught the culprit! We send him to prison, but Gilbert wanted to get him out! I told him he wasn’t supposed to, that he wasn’t even supposed to play and that he had to leave me alone. He pushed me and then we started fighting. Look what he did!” He raised the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his new bruises, which made Augusto lament, getting some ointments and napkins to help cure the area.

“Well…at least I know you’re perfectly capable of protecting yourself,” Augusto sighed, even if it meant that he was fighting with one of his best friend’s grandson.

“I gave it to him good, Nonno! He’ll have marks for days!” He exalted.

“It’s not something to be proud of, Lovino. I would much prefer if you two actually…sat down and played nicely. Is it too much to ask?”

“Yes it is! All Gilbert does is make fun of me and call me mean things,” Lovino pouted.

“You’re right, but then you continue in his game and it just gets worst. How about next time, you compliment him or suggest something you can both do together,” he tried to create peace.

“No!” Lovino decided, sure.

“Come on…” Augusto wanted to convince him.

“No! No! No! No! No!” Lovino shook his head fiercely, turning so harshly he began leaning to the side, almost falling from the top of the counter if Augusto haven’t gotten him right.

“If you’re not going to, at least try to behave more whenever were with the Beilschmidts.”

“I don’t like any of them, Nonno, not even Ludwig!”

“He’s only two years old!”

“Still don’t like him!”

“But were all such good friends with them. We can’t just stop seeing them because you don’t like them.”

“I would make me really happy if you did…” he saddened, looking down.

“Lovino, mio caro.” Augusto took his chin, raising his hazel eyes back to his bright brown ones. “You don’t have to like them if you don’t want to, but you have to understand what they mean to us. When you’re older, and you’re no longer living in this household, you can do whatever you want and not see any of their faces again.” Lovino glowed at such wonderful days far in the future. “But for now, bare what you can, and try not to start a fight with Gilbert every time you’re in the same room.”

And Lovino remained silent, adverting his eyes in a way that made Augusto know that no such things was happening any time soon. He sighed, he would just have to repeat this speech on and on until he could finally understand.

“Go wash up and then we can have lunch, all right?”

“Mhm!” His smile and energy was true as he got down from the counter and headed quickly.

Augusto sighed and wondered on about what he could do.

On Deutschland and Italia.

Union and Betrayals.

Leaving Hamburg.

Yes, Germany and Italy have a vast history together that could might as well start with Ancient Rome and the Germanic tribes. Something that constantly repeats between these two countries is incredible moments of union…and then those of ultimate betrayal. Sure, both were in the ‘I hate Austria’ club and parts of Italy were part of the once Holy Roman Empire and the German confederation, but we can’t forget that in both world wars, they would begin allied…only to end betraying each other in massacres. Despite this, they formed an alliance during the cold war and now they are both leading members of the European Union.

Such a thing to ruin the relationship with the Beilschmidts and the Valenti has not happened, but the closest that came to it was when we had to leave Hamburg about twenty years ago.

Such departure was celebrated, in a fine dinner that both Gilbert Beilchmidt and Lovino Valenti were forced to wear tight suits, fitted for their small figures. They both spent much of the celebration trying to remove what they could…only to have their mothers tighten or put back whatever they left in the tables or chairs. With whatever fun they tried to find, they still ended spending much of the celebration just sitting in different tables, pouting and talking about how they wanted to leave.

In the three years Lovino had lived in Hamburg, Aldrich and Augusto had constantly repeated the advice to both their grandsons, yet neither had done fair to their words. Their fights, problems and hatred only increased in number, in fact, they only glared at each other whenever they had to meet during the feast. At one point it seemed like a competition, since they would sit for minutes just sending hatred with their eyes. Aldrich and Augusto couldn’t keep their arms off from each other, Monika and Renata couldn’t stop talking, and Ludwig and Feliciano wouldn’t stop crying. Gilbert and Lovino wanted to get away from each other.

Finally, at deep late hours, Renata had come to place her hands gently on Lovino’s shoulders, after having them clean the tears that fell down her cheeks. “Ready to go?”

For once in the entire dinner, did Lovino actually smile, sure that that glare would be the last he would give to Gilbert Beilschmidt, as well as the last time he would see his annoying white hair, viola eyes and ultimate paleness.

On Deutschland and Italia.

The Eurozone Crisis.

Returning to Hamburg.

Germans like to believe that they are the knights in shining armor coming to save a damsel in distress Italy from some far-off tower in our current crisis. If you dare tell me that, you’re earning yourself an easy punch in the face or an ultimate cursing that will be felt across your entire lineage.

This is incredibly untrue, in fact, Italy has been helping countries like Greece, Spain and Ireland more so than Germany has done. I believe the Germans made all this ploy to get cheaper shopping sprees and take our companies for themselves.

Let me make this clear, I hate Germany, and I could easily make an entire new blog dedicated to my desire to burn the place to the ground. Then why return? Why after twenty years did I decide to return to the city that all I can remember about is nightmares, cold, bad food and an annoying albino making it worst. Easy, because Germany could give me an opportunity that Italy tragically could not. My story is not the first to happen to an Italian, it is a constantly repeated tale that you can find in any other Italian blog, or you can hear any young Italian say.

Germany is not only taking our goods and money. They’re also taking Italy’s brightest minds. Why does this happen? Easy…because Italy is falling apart and we are left with no other choice than to leave for England, or the U.S., or of course, Germany.

Italy owes more than two trillion euros and whenever we think we have that money, it just suddenly disappears (corruption, obviously).

So I’m left with no other choice than to come back and accept this barbarian country as my new home.

I’m twenty-five, independent even when living above my grandfather’s restaurant with the rest of my family in the same building, my own job, my own car, my own wishes, plans…which means I at least don’t have to face those disgusting Beilschmidts again.

He kicked the door open, finally bringing in the last box, dropping it to the floor and then pushing it to join the others. He groaned knowing he had to unbox and organize. He had just arrived and was in no mood to deal with anything else, wondering if he should just take a nap. When he heard the exciting and rushing steps coming up the staircase, he knew that chance for rest was not going to occur at all.

“You are finally here!” His grandfather just crashed into the apartment, hands all over the place, his body seeming to bring an entire parade with him.

Lovino rolled his eyes but readied his opened hands to take and accept the hug Augusto always greeted him with. He was spun, with a couple of bones cracked before he was placed back on the ground.

“So, have you started?” Augusto was too wondered as he gazed about the apartment, empty but for a couple of appliances.

“No, and I don’t think I want to today.” The only thing Lovino settled on taking out was a bean chair, throwing it in what would be the center of the living room, then falling upon it, closing his eyes and settling himself already for a nap.

“Don’t be such a lazy ass!” Augusto scolded and clapped his hands to keep him awake. “Come on, I’ll help you! Where do we start?” He went ahead and opened the nearest stacked box, a fragile one with a lot of flower decorated plates Lovino had gotten in Sicily.

How his almost eighty-year-old grandfather could so readily take a pile and place them already in their cabinet with energy to continue was beyond him, he was still not moving from his spot. He took out a pair of sunglasses and decided he would settle no matter what his grandfather would do. Augusto was not accepting it though, and as he turned around to get to the other boxes, he kicked the bean bag until Lovino was tumbling over to the ground.

“What the hell?!” Lovino shouted in his usual angry fires.

“Come on! Let’s get to it! The sooner you have everything, the sooner you can get to taking all the siestas you want.” Augusto had learned to be unfazed by it all.

Pouting, Lovino stood, angrily kicking the bean bag himself, throwing the sunglasses and opening harshly a box of decorated cups.

“You know, when Feliciano had first moved here, he couldn’t keep still. He had his whole apartment ready that weekend to accept guests,” Augusto recalled as he found some vases that could be used at the counter to decorate.

“Nonno, it was extremely obvious he did it to impress Ludwig and to end up getting fucked that night.”

“Your younger brother is an angel who will not do such things. He told me he was going to wait till marriage and I’m sure of his word.”

Lovino rolled his eyes and didn’t bother continuing forward. “Whatever. Feliciano was excited to come here, I’m not.”

“Yet you’re here.”

“Because I had no other choice. If it was up to me, I would still be in Naples right now.” There was such sadness in his voice as he picked some books to place on a nice shelf in the living room.

“And I’m sure that there will be many other chances for you to return. Hamburg has a lot to offer you as a beautiful young Italian man.”

To be honest, Lovino loved it when his grandfather complimented like he did, as if he was presenting him to an important crowd. For a moment he could forget about that weigh of stress, happily moving about boxes now, trying to get more kitchen related items.

“After you have everything you need from here, something bright will await you once again in Naples,” Augusto was sure as he placed jars now.

“I want to be back by the end of the year,” Lovino had promised himself.

“And you will, but for now, try to be happy here. All will work well, you’ll see.”

next chapter >

#on deutschland and italia by lovino valenti #prumano #prumano fanfiction #prumano fanfic #prumano fic

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theoddcatlady · 5 years

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My Friends Went On A Roadtrip Through Europe

The only reason I didn’t go on the ‘greatest trip of our lives’ was because I was in a car accident that nearly killed me.

It was bad. I wasn’t able to get out of bed without assistance for that first month. Broken leg, busted up ribs, I looked more like a boxer that just got out of a match gone bad than a recent highschool graduate who was planning on going to college as a psychology major.

My friends and I had been planning this trip since our freshman year in highschool. I know. It was fucking stupid. But we promised if we all graduated with a grade average of 3.5 or better and if we all scraped together the cash from after school/summer jobs, we’d take a road trip through Europe. Somehow we actually managed to do it, our parents were so impressed that they even kicked in some cash. The silly dreams of fourteen year olds were coming to life.

Whitney wanted to go to Paris and see the Eiffel Tower. Jade was all about Austria, she wanted to see where the Sound of Music was filmed. Jonah planned to eat all the chocolate he could stomach in Switzerland. Me? I wanted to see the countryside of every country- mountains, rivers, the ocean… But one week before the plane was supposed to take off, well, the accident happened.

I told my friends to go without me, but I made them promise to constantly send me updates and tell me how much fun they were having. So they left- Whitney, Jade, Jonah, Holden, and Tori. I even gave them a portion of the money I saved up so they could go crazy.

At first, everything was normal. I got pictures, they even sent me a package from England full of lil knick knacks and snacks. I hated the Irn Bru but the Cadbury chocolates were to DIE for. But everything went wrong shortly after Austria.

Below are the emails and messages my friends sent me when they had the time. These all take place over about three weeks. After that, everything goes silent. Their parents have yet to hear from them. They’ve filed missing person’s reports, but I think if any of them are still alive… they won’t want to be found.

From: Jade

Jesus CHRIST, you will not believe what happened last night, Lilah.

First off, let me make abundantly clear that no one is dead, and no the trip is not over yet. We got really lucky. Second off, Jonah is a fucking moron and I swear to god once his stitches are out I’m ripping him a new one.

Okay so last night we were out a bit late, we all got a little tipsy and we were heading back to the hotel. Legal drinking age is eighteen, it’s not like that time we tried to sneak into Beverly’s with those fake ID’s. On the way back, we stumbled across another drunk who made a pass at Jonah. And you know Jonah, his drunk ass reacted loudly and violently. I swear he was about to make a swing at the guy… but the other guy swung first.

I swear, the drunk guy fought like an animal, Jonah didn’t stand a chance. We barely managed to rip Jonah away from him before he ripped his throat out. It was bloody and MESSY.

We got Jonah to the nearest emergency room, got him patched up, headed back home to sleep it off. How much do you wanna bet that he won’t remember it in the morning?

I’m gonna hit the sack. Jonah is a moron.

From: Jonah

Jade told me she sent you an email about the fight. She really needs to chill, I’m really not that bad off. Besides, the guy was a creep.

I do remember what happened, despite what she thinks, we were heading back when, get this, strange guy complimented my SKIN. Said it looked smooth and rosy. That’s not even flirting anymore, that’s just creepy! I mean, he was totally your type, tall, dark, handsome, blue eyes and a bit of scruff on his face, but noooot mine.

I’m fine though, you can barely tell where the guy got me. I think he had a knife because I got ripped. Up. Can barely tell now, he must’ve just grazed me.

We’ll be looping back up and heading for Poland next. Gonna cross through Germany to do that, but I don’t mind the drive. Besides, Germany = MORE BEER.

Miss you, next time you will totally have to come along.

From: Tori

I really wish you were here. I miss you so, so much. How is your therapy going? I hope it’s going well, you really missed out on some beautiful views today. The camera doesn’t quite capture it, but I hope to paint it once I’m home with my supplies. Maybe I can bring a little of this place back to you.

I think I’m just homesick. I might cut my trip short and head back, I’m really worried about you.

From: Whitney

Did you talk Tori out of going home yet? I don’t think she’s willing to admit how spooked she got when that bum attacked Jonah. She started crying when she saw how bloodied he was. I was pretty freaked too, but it was way worse than it looked. He’s actually completely fine now. Stitches came out, there’s not even a scar. I’m pretty sure Jonah’s actually bummed there’s nothing to show off for when he gets home LOL. But yeah, nothing to worry about, he’s still the same energetic Jonah we all know and love.

Holden’s horrible at remembering to email you, I’ve told him like, six times. Did he do anything other than the one time he sent a what’s up? He totally only did that because I nagged him.

I wish we spent more time in Italy, but we’re making great time through Germany. I’m gonna go now, kick ass and take names at Overwatch for us when you can sit up, all right?

From: Tori

Jonah’s almost too over the top since the attack. I think he’s trying to make up for something, I don’t know what. It’s like… remember that time he pounded Mountain Dews all night while we were gaming? This was during our League of Legends phase (glad that ended) but Jonah was incredibly manic and he was constantly getting up to pace.

He’s like that but 24/7. I don’t think he’s slept a full night, and it’s almost impossible to make him stop for the night. We want to relax, there’s no rush to get to Poland. I’ll talk to him when I can get him to settle, see what’s wrong. Love you.

From: Jade

Welp, Tori went home last night.

Her clothes and passport are gone, she left a note saying she really missed you and her parents, she’ll make it up to us when we’re home. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed she didn’t talk to us beforehand.

She was right though, Jonah needs a chill pill. Is this how some people deal with trauma? Because I mean, you weren’t there, but that was… pretty bad. I can’t even imagine how Jonah feels, but he’s Jonah. He never lets anyone in. It’s why you two broke up sophomore year, kid has issues. I hoped this trip through Europe might help him learn about himself but I think it’s making it worse.

From: Whitney

WE’RE IN DENMARK BECAUSE APPARENTLY JONAH DECIDED POLAND WAS A STUPID IDEA.

Ugh, sorry. So Jonah offered to drive us through the night. I said no, but Holden and Jade were all for it. So I sucked it up, took something to make me drowsy, and konked out in the back seat. When I woke up, Jonah and Jade were having a shouting match and turns out, we’re in DENMARK. That wasn’t the plan. He didn’t clear this with us.

Holden’s on his side, saying that Denmark is a cool country too but Jade’s royally pissed. I can’t blame her. We promised at the beginning of the trip that we were to clear any travel plans with each other. We’d talk about it.

That’s another reason to miss you- you are SO good at talking. <3

From: Jonah

Everyone but Holden’s pissed at me.

Listen, I’m fine, I promise. I’ve just had to deal with some insomnia lately, is that really that bad? It’s not like I’m as bad off as you were. There was a brief moment that morning of the accident we all thought we’d lose you.

The insomnia goes away in the day. I can sleep then. Everyone can go and have fun during the day, I get to sleep, and at night I go do my shit. There’s. Nothing. Wrong with that.

I mean, another reason I wish you were here was that I’ve been having some… preeettyyy interesting dreams involving you, when I can sleep anyway. TMI. But maybe I should’ve been less of a puss with you back in the day. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.

When I’m back, can we go on a date? I’ll buy. Anywhere you want to go.

From: Jade

Jonah made a pass at me. And he’s not drunk.

I’m confused. And worried. Not gonna lie, he was pretty smooth about it, but I’ve never thought of him that way. He’s like that obnoxious little brother you love anyway. I told him no and he accepted gracefully.

Talking with Whitney and he also made a move at him… and at Holden? Jesus Christ, it’s about time that dumbass fell out of the closet. Holden’s pretty into it though. I’m wondering if this trip was actually a success in that matter.

We’re going up through Scandinavia now. Sweden, here we come!

At least we’re in some of the most gay friendly countries in the world right now… although I swear to god I think someone’s been following us. I’ve spotted this small white car twice now and I think it’s the same driver. But I’m probably just paranoid.

From: Holden

i know i dont email you often. i hate writing.

but something’s really wrong with jonah. i think he hurt someone.

last night we went out for drinks. ive always thought jonah was cute but never thought hed give me the time of day. we shared a hotel room, nothing happened but it was nice.

but I woke up this morning and I was trying to find something to wear and I accidentally went through one of jonah’s bags because our bags look the same and

i found one of his shirts. it’s covered in blood. And I found tori’s passport. it’s also bloody.

i’ve been reading and there’s been two bodies on the same route we’ve been going. i also called tori’s mom and she hasn’t heard anything from her daughter. she hasnt gone home. what should I do lilah? you were always the smart one.

From: Jade

Jonah’s lost his goddamn mind.

I’m surprised I get signal out in the middle of nowhere but Holden asked him about Tori and Jonah got really defensive. Then he brought up clothes covered in blood and that Tori never made it home and… Jonah snapped.

He pulled over to the side of the road and lunged for Holden. Whitney tried to break it up and got pretty fucked up for it. They’ll be okay as soon as we get to a hospital or something.

He’s gone now. He took the keys with him. I’m gonna try and call for help but jesus christ how have things gone so wrong?

From: Jonah

(This email was sent to all of us, along with the next one.)

I’m with Master now. He never meant for this to happen. He never meant for me to get turned. He tried to find me but my own stupidity kept us going… I’m so mad at myself. I should’ve told you guys what’s been going on. I’ve been barely sleeping, any sort of bright light fucking hurts, and Tori…

I never meant to hurt Tori. I swear to god. She was one of my best friends. But she’s dead. And I killed her. I couldn’t stop myself. By the time I came to my senses, I’d shredded her to pieces. If they ever find where I dumped her, she’ll probably be a Jane Doe for the rest of time.

Master found me running around around and stopped me. We’re someplace safe now. He’ll help me.

But I need to know one thing-

Did I bite you guys?

From: Whitney

You bit me. And you bit Holden.

Jade’s fine. For now. I don’t know how long though. I feel strange. Like there’s something burning in my head and down my spine. Please find us. Holden’s starting to feel strange too.

Lilah, we love you so much.

Please, don’t try to come find us. Go to college. Have fun. Make new friends. Study hard. Forget about us.

We’re dead anyway.

#horror stories #scary stories #creepypasta #writers on tumblr #creative writing #my stories

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damieconfessionsask · 6 years

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Amelia is living her best life

You have to admit that she is the luckiest woman in the world in the sense that she always find someone who is willing to take care of her financially. It used to be Colin Farrell. Her mom Annette Ekblom must be so relieved that finally her daughter is able to land another celebrity, a good provider no as wild as Colin. This is the interview she did years back but give you some idea what she wants Millie to look for in a relationship. Here it is the article:

Annette's daughter, Amelia Warner, who she fondly calls Millie, is following in her mother's footsteps. She co-starred with Kate Winslet in Quills and played the title role in the BBC drama Lorna Doone. Amelia has just got engaged to former Ballykissangel star Colin Farrell, 24, who is now a rising Hollywood actor. The couple announced their engagement last month when Annette was staying with them in LA.

"It's great they've found each other," she says. "I love him and it's a relief for me that Millie's met someone who looks after her and who she can trust. It's rare that they're both young but so ready to commit. And she didn't have to kiss many frogs before she found her prince!"

For her, looking after her daughter is the most important thing, it is no surprising she said that as she had been a single mother and struggled in bringing up AW. I guess she does not need to worry about her daughter any more. New accounts filed by Dornan's Where's the Danger Ltd for 2017 show that the actor received a dividend of £900,000 (€1.019m) in 2016 from the Fifty Shades of Grey which ironically he despised.

Before JD catapulted into stardom, the couple only lived on his modelling gigs and very rare screen roles and a small vintage shop she opened in 2013. They barely travelled anywhere and always wear old winkled clothes looking like from discount stores whenever got paped. Now they are globetrotting with designer clothes and expensive watches and jewelries. Just this year alone, they have stayed in LA for some weeks and then this couple travelled to Austria for a short ski trip, then they took a train trip to Ireland for Easter family get together. Not long after they went to Donegal Ireland with kids in a nice resort.Vacation again..Afterwards JD started filming in coming back and forth between London and Ireland. He didn't get any time to relax at home and bond with his kids and now this couple alone left kids with grandma and travelled to Italy. By looking at the elevator of the hotel they live and the private boat they took in Capri, you know it is expensive trip considering the room rate in Italy in the summer. They always claimed that they want to live a quiet life in the country side. How many days are they actually living in Cotswold? JD and AW fans constantly say that they are great parents, but when was the last time JD spent some time with his two kids for one week? We never caught any pap pictures about Amelia with kids alone either.

With the social media focus on AW tummy again, you know that either she is pregnant with baby 3 or simply play the fame game. Because deep down, she knows social media will go frenzy if she put her hands on her stomach and stir the pregnancy rumours.

Another thing for JD, he aged quite a bit in these couple of years with all the golfing under sun and also the drinking non stop. JD has a beautiful jawline and mesmerising smile, and all the beard and moustache just simply ruin his face and make him look just another guy one street tired and untidy. That is why so many people comment that they can/t get his sex appeal. He needs to be clean shaved to show his charm.

Still AW is a lucky woman with JD and all he has brought into this relationship.

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years

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A Padre Pio Inspirational Story

Padre Pio – The Matchmaker

My name is Ortrud Bianchi and I was born in 1945 in Ronsperg, Czech Republic, the youngest of six children. Several months after my birth, we settled in a small town in Germany. My parents, Sieplinde and Erhard Schumann divorced when I was five years old. There was no religious atmosphere in our home but I did receive religious instruction in school as well as the sacraments of the Catholic Church. On rare occasions, my brother and I attended church. Watching my mother’s difficult life as a divorcee convinced me that I would remain single.

When I was a teenager, my maternal grandmother who lived in Austria, died unexpectedly. My mother traveled to the funeral and decided to remain in Austria. She realized that life can end abruptly and by the grace of God, she began to practice her Catholic faith with great fervor, making up for lost time.

As a result of my mother’s move to Austria, I joined my oldest sister and her husband in Landshut, Germany and finished my schooling there. I looked forward to school vacations so that I could be with my mother in Austria. However, I soon noticed that my mother was on a major mission to convert us children. The more she tried to convert us, the more our opposition grew. I finally made my mother promise not to mention religion to me anymore, otherwise I would discontinue my visits to her. My mother complied. The next time I saw her, she kept silent about her faith in God. When it was time to say goodbye, she handed me a small pamphlet to take home with me. On the cover of it was a picture of Jesus. That was a dead give away to me that it was a religious pamphlet, therefore boring and a waste of time to read. But I took it anyway, in order to avoid an argument.

Months passed and Easter vacation was about to begin. The pamphlet! Suddenly I remembered. Without fail, my mother’s first question would be to ask me how I liked it. The easiest solution would be to read just one small page and then I would be off the hook.

I was home alone and opened the pamphlet randomly. It was from the diary of the Polish nun, Sister (now Saint) Faustina Kowalska. My eyes fell on the text where Jesus explained to Sister Faustina that His mercy was greater than any human or angelic mind could ever fathom. Jesus invited every soul, no matter how sinful, to draw close to His merciful heart. The words hit me like lightning. Jesus loves me! Why be indifferent to the One who loves me more than I can ever imagine? Overwhelmed by deep emotions of contrition, I felt a force that brought me to my knees. I began to cry and I repeated over and over, “Jesus, from now on I want to be your friend.”

The next morning, Sunday, I got up and got ready for church while a puzzled and disbelieving sister and brother-in- law looked on. I made my way to church for confession and Mass. I never missed another Sunday Mass after that and I began to pray for all of the members of my family.

By July, 1964, I lived with my mother in Austria. Two years later, my youngest brother and his fianc were meeting the rest of the family in Rome for their wedding. They mailed the necessary documents for the wedding to Rome and made sure that they were certified, insured and registered. The documents for their wedding disappeared and were never found. Because of that, they were not able to get married.

While everyone was devastated that there would be no wedding, my mother cheerfully announced that she had “Plan B.” A friend had recently informed her of a holy monk, Padre Pio, who had the stigmata and lived in San Giovanni Rotondo. What a perfect opportunity it would be to visit him, since everyone was already in Rome. As we traveled to Padre Pio’s monastery, I became more and more excited at the thought of seeing a saint.

Our first experience was to be present for the opening of the church doors at 4:50 a.m. for Padre Pio’s 5:00 a.m. Mass. People started to push and shove, causing my brother-in-law to lose his shoe. Another person’s glasses flew off. Inside the church, people were racing down the middle aisle and jumping over the pews. It was like a sports event.

Then Padre Pio entered the sanctuary. He looked old, weak and even sickly. I could tell that he was suffering and I felt sorry for him. I thought it would be better for him to have some bed rest rather than to be surrounded by people who seemed more devoted to him than to Jesus and Mary. “Why do these people bother Padre Pio, trying to talk to him and touch him?” I said to myself. “I think they are on the wrong track. They are misled. Don’t they know that we have Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament? We don’t have to run after a person!”

I watched Padre Pio celebrate Mass and nothing extraordinary happened. Somehow I expected holiness to be radiating from him that would at least cause me to have some goose-bumps. Nothing happened inside of me. My final resolve was that I had seen Padre Pio once and that was good enough. There was no need to ever return to San Giovanni Rotondo again.

Two years later, my mother and a young man who was a fellow member of the Legion of Mary and I made a pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of Loreto in Italy. We had a wonderful time there. My mother suggested that we drive to San Giovanni Rotondo to see Padre Pio. It was a distance of at least 230 miles and there were no highways at that time to get there, only small roads. I told my mother that our car was too old and unreliable to make the trip. Besides, she had already seen Padre Pio. However, all my reasoning with my mother was to no avail. She told me that if I would not take her, she would walk the distance by herself. I told my mother that I would take her but only because I was a good daughter.

It wasn’t too long before our 1949 Volkswagen broke down. Our friend from the Legion of Mary had to hitchhike back to the previous town and since he did not speak Italian, he had to try to explain in sign language the car parts he needed to purchase in order to fix our car. My mother and I sat in a ditch as we prayed the Rosary and waited for him to return.

It took several hours to get the car running again. About 9:00 p.m. the car broke a second time. There was no mechanic shop anywhere near and by now, everything was closed. We grabbed our few belongings, locked the car, and hitchhiked through the night to San Giovanni Rotondo. When we reached the monastery at 5:00 a.m., my mother was overjoyed and made a solemn proclamation, “Isn’t God good! We have arrived on time for Holy Mass.” After Mass, we met a German lady on the plaza in front of the church. She knew how to get tickets to go to confession to Padre Pio and how to get tickets to enter the sacristy where Padre Pio passed after the morning confessions.

My mother obtained tickets and the next morning along with about fifteen other women, we were ushered into the old sacristy. It was no big deal for me. This time around I knew better than to expect anything. I knew that Padre Pio was just a human being. Yes, he might be a saint but I felt it was selfish to bother him the way the people did. “I will just play the game along with my mother,” I said to myself.

The door opened and there stood Padre Pio. We all knelt down for his blessing as he passed in front of each person. He stopped in front of my mother, looked at her and blessed her. I was next. He then placed his hand on my head. My whole body felt that touch. It felt like electricity going through my body and at the same time my soul was touched. I can’t explain what happened but I knew that something had taken place. I knew that a strong bond, a deep spiritual relationship between Padre Pio and myself had been established. He had become my spiritual father and I had become his adopted spiritual daughter. I ran outside the church and started to cry.

Back in Austria, I could not stop talking about Padre Pio. My two sisters, brother, brother-in-law, mother and I decided, only three weeks after my return from San Giovanni Rotondo, to take a trip together to see Padre Pio. Being back in San Giovanni Rotondo felt like being in Heaven and the days we spent there were pure happiness. We stayed for several weeks. I finally realized that the people who came to the monastery to see Padre Pio were not selfish like I had first thought. They were there for the same reason that I was there. Without even saying anything, Padre Pio was taking us closer to Jesus. Just looking at Padre Pio made you want to love Jesus more. He was like a magnet, drawing people closer and closer to God.

The morning of August 25, 1966 was our planned departure and we packed all our luggage in the trunk for our return trip back to Austria. At that moment, I decided to stay in San Giovanni Rotondo and I removed my bag from the car. As a religious education teacher, I still had three weeks of vacation left and I wanted to stay as long as possible. My family tried to reason with me and said to me, “You don’t know the Italian language. You don’t have money for a hotel. You don’t have money for the train ticket back to Austria. You do not even have enough money for food!” “I am twenty-one years old and I can make my own decisions,” I replied. I loved Padre Pio (like all those crazy Italian women) and all I cared about was to be near him.

After I said goodbye to my family, I went back to the church to pray. When I was near Padre Pio, all of my earthly desires seemed to disappear. Being close to him was like being on a retreat. During the afternoon, I asked about lodging but could not find anything in my price range. I asked the German lady who had befriended me if she knew of a place I could stay overnight but she did not know of anything.

After the evening Benediction service, everyone had to leave as the church doors were locked. Slowly, with my bag over my shoulder, I made my way across the plaza. My happy feeling made way for a pressing question, “What now? Where do I sleep?” I did not have money for a hotel and sleeping out in the open air under the stars made me nervous. Not only were there snakes in the area but also stray dogs.

I uttered a short prayer to Padre Pio, “Dear Padre Pio, I have never prayed to you for myself but now I need your help. Please help me to find a place to sleep tonight.” As I finished my cry for help, I noticed that a young man who was sitting on a bench under a tree, got up and started walking toward me. We talked for a few minutes and then I informed him that I had to be on my way for I had to find a place to stay for the night. He asked me to wait on the bench and he would be back soon. With no place to go, the bench seemed very inviting.

Fifteen minutes passed and then he returned. “Come, follow me,” he said. “I found a place for you to stay.” We headed down a hill to the first house across from the monastery. He led me into the house, down the stairs and opened the door to a room furnished with three beds. Pointing to the bed on the right he said, “This one is yours. It is fifty cents a night.” I thanked him and he left. Shortly after there was a knock at the door. To my surprise, it was the young man again. He handed me two paper bags, smiled and said, “This is for you. Good night.” Inside the bags were two delicious sandwiches, an apple and a pear. My mind was racing. How did he know that I had not eaten a meal that day?

The next morning an Italian lady who stayed at the same residence invited me to a little room and served me a big dish of pasta with bread and wine. “Mangia, mangia,” (eat, eat) she said but I really did not need any encouragement and I ate all the food.

That day I ran into the young man again. I learned that he was an American studying medicine in Rome. He had arrived in Rome in August but his school was closed until September. He felt inspired to spend his free time in San Giovanni Rotondo near Padre Pio.

There was no lack of German-speaking pilgrims at the monastery and one day I met a woman named Adelinde from Austria. She urged me to pray for her intention. She confided to me that she was anxious about traveling alone and that she would like Padre Pio to send her a traveling companion for her return trip back to Austria.

I told her that her worries were over. Padre Pio had answered her prayers and she was looking at her traveling companion. The idea popped into my mind that it would be great to have a man in the car, in case we had a flat tire. Adelinde agreed and the American was offered a free ride to Rome which he accepted. Leaving San Giovanni Rotondo the following week was extremely painful to me. The thought of returning soon was the only thing that made it bearable. The three of us traveled to Rome together and once in Rome, Adelinde had some business to take care of and excused herself for a half hour.

While waiting in the car for Adelinde to return, I suggested to the American that we pray the Rosary together. I led the first part of the Hail Mary in German and he answered in English. Adelinde came back and we continued our journey. On the way to the hotel to drop off the American, I felt a hand on my right shoulder. It was the American. The strange thing was that it did not feel like a human hand. I experienced the exact same powerful feeling in my body as when Padre Pio put his hand on my head. The feeling lasted as long as the young man’s hand was on my shoulder. Before leaving the car, he handed me a piece of paper with his name and address and asked for mine. The card he handed me said, “Germain Bianchi, Yonkers, New York.”

Several days after I returned to my home in Austria, the doorbell rang and when I opened the door, there stood the American. I wanted to introduce him to my mother but I could not remember his name. He came to visit me again, just three weeks later. Traveling such a long distance to see me, alarmed me, so I had a talk with him.

I began by saying, “I am not interested in any close relationships. I am very happy being single and I want to remain single. I don’t want to divide my love for Jesus. I like to go to church whenever I please and pray. I love being a religious education teacher. I would never want to take the chance of getting married. These days people make promises and later it is a different story.”

Germain listened and after a pause, he responded to each point I had made. He said to me, “You are very happy to be single but it is also possible to be happy as a married person. You should never divide your love for Jesus. Neither would I. Rather we would help each other to love Jesus more and more. And I would never be unfaithful to you. You have my word.”

“Ortrud, stick to your principles,” I said to myself. “Don’t give in. Don’t get weak!” But I could feel my heart softening just a bit.”Why are we discussing marriage?” I said to Germain. “I don’t even know you and you don’t know me.” “I know you well enough,” Germain said, “that I would like to ask you to marry me. When we were sitting in the car and you asked me to pray the Rosary with you, you were the first girl that ever asked me to pray the Rosary. I knew then that I wanted you to be my wife.”

The next day Germain took a train to San Giovanni Rotondo. In confession, he told Padre Pio that he met a girl that he wanted to marry but that she was not sure about him. Padre Pio, a man of few words, advised him, “Marry her and prepare well for your marriage.” Germain heard what he wanted to hear but I still needed my own sign.

At Christmas time, I went to San Giovanni Rotondo and Germain was there with me. I wanted to ask Padre Pio about marrying Germain. One day I happened to have an excellent position in the front row of a crowded sacristy. There were many other women there as well. Padre Pio would be passing within two feet of me and at that time I planned on speaking to him about Germain.

Brother Joseph Pius, one of the Capuchins who lived at the monastery, approached me and motioned for me to follow him. I told him that I was in an excellent spot to talk to Padre Pio but he insisted that I go with him. I was not thrilled to give up my good place in the front row but I followed Brother Joseph Pius. He led me through the big church, unlocked the door to the monastery and gave me orders to wait there in the middle of a long hallway. A few minutes later he reappeared with Germain, whom he had found in the upstairs hallway waiting with the men for Padre Pio to pass by. He told Germain to stand next to me and then he left without any explanation.

Before we could figure out who had arranged this interesting happening, the door at the end of the hallway opened and Padre Pio, aided by two friars, entered. Knowing that Padre Pio could see into the souls of people, my first reaction was to look down toward the floor and avoid eye contact. Instead, I looked straight into his beautiful brown eyes the entire time he was walking slowly towards us. When he reached us, he stopped. He put his hand on Germain’s head, then on my head and with one blessing, he blessed us both together. No words were spoken, no angel appeared, but I received my sign. I knew at that moment that Germain and I were meant to be together and to marry.

I continued to visit Padre Pio every time I had a vacation. On August 15, 1967, Germain and I became officially engaged. Germain had an engagement ring made for me from a gold miraculous medal surrounded by tiny pearls. Padre Pio kept the ring in his room for many days and blessed it in time for our engagement. Our wedding was on the Feast of the Assumption, August 15, 1968. Padre Pio no longer performed weddings in his later years due to his poor health but he was taken in his wheelchair to meet us before the wedding ceremony began. Germain thanked him for everything. Padre Pio blessed our wedding rings and gave us his blessing. Then he tapped me three times on my head. I felt as though he had opened a valve inside of me for I felt a happiness that was indescribable. By the end of the day I said, “God has to take this feeling away for I feel my heart is ready to burst with joy.”

Our wedding took place in the church of Our Lady of Grace where Padre Pio had received the stigmata, celebrated Mass for most of his life, and heard daily confessions. Father Ermelindo celebrated the wedding Mass. In the afternoon, Brother Joseph Pius and Father Ermelindo surprised us at the wedding reception with their presence. Brother Joseph Pius made this announcement to us, “Germain and Ortrud, I hope you will enjoy this wedding gift from Padre Pio. Because he is often sick, he no longer signs pictures or cards. Instead, we sign them for him. I asked him what I should write on the back of this picture of Our Lady of Grace and Padre Pio answered me, “Give me the picture and let me sign it myself.” Padre Pio wrote, “Maria vi tenga stretta nel sua amore.” (May the Virgin Mary hold you tightly in her love.) For our honeymoon we did not go to a beach resort or vacation spot. We stayed in San Giovanni Rotondo for several weeks, the best place on earth.

One month after our wedding, we heard the very sad news that Padre Pio had died. We went to San Giovanni Rotondo to attend the funeral. As we stood in line to pass by Padre Pio’s coffin and pay our last respects, an Italian woman kept tapping me on the shoulder, advising me to ask Padre Pio for something when I paused at his casket. I did what she suggested. As I stood at his coffin, I prayed, “Padre Pio, please bless our marriage with a child.” Nine months later, our first son was born. It is said that our prayers are often answered in a more abundant way that what we ask. We were blessed with eight beautiful children, the last being twins. The twins were born on the feast of Our Lady of Grace, the patroness of San Giovanni Rotondo. Padre Pio didn’t just bring us together, he has taken care of us ever since. His fatherly care and love has been with us for almost forty years of married life.

Padre Pio, we love you, Padre Pio, we thank you, Padre Pio, we need you to pray to God for us till we shall meet again. __________

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can fathom the work that God does from beginning to end. I know that nothing is better for them than to rejoice, and to do good in their lives. – Ecclesiastes 3:11-12

#padre pio

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fashiontrendin-blog · 6 years

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The Definitive Guide To Terrace Fashion

http://fashion-trendin.com/the-definitive-guide-to-terrace-fashion/

The Definitive Guide To Terrace Fashion

Ordinarily, getting kitted out head to toe in your most expensive clothing might be something you’d reserve for a date, a wedding or a black-tie event. However, if you were a devotee of terrace fashion, a matchday trip to the pub would be the only excuse you’d need to get yourself suited and booted.

Of course, by “suit” we mean a grand’s worth of designer Italian outerwear and by “boots” we’re referring to hen’s-teeth-rare Adidas trainers. Because the terrace lads’ definition of finery is a far cry from your standard Savile Row tailoring.

Followers of this subcultural movement refer to themselves as “casuals”. To the layman, they’re football fans who choose to clad themselves in designer “casual” clothing rather than their team’s colours. In the early days of the late 1970s, this was done in order to more easily infiltrate rival firms for fights – something that has seen the term become synonymous with hooliganism and thuggery.

But not all casuals are or were hellbent on weekend, lager-fuelled barbarity. For many, their love for the scene revolves around the fashion and music. Scratch below the surface and you’ll find there’s more to terrace fashion than just flying fists and Stone Island logos. In fact, the scene has influenced modern menswear in ways you probably weren’t even aware of.

The Rise Of The Casuals

Terrace fashion has its roots in the late 1970s. The success of English football clubs saw young fans travelling overseas to Europe for matches and developing a taste for new and exotic sportswear in the process. They brought it back home, others saw and wanted it, and so the cycle began. This was really the beginning of hype sportswear.

The subculture developed its own uniform and a selection of core brands. “Farah, Lois, Diadora, Nike, Adidas, Puma, Sergio Tacchini, Fila, Ellesse, Cerutti 1881, Australian, Lacoste, Lyle and Scott, Pringle, Kappa,” says Neil Primett, owner of 80s Casual Classics, a dedicated casual shop that has supplied wardrobe to films such as The Firm, This Is England and The Business. “These are the labels that made up the outfit of your typical 1979-to-1985 casual.

“Exactly where it started is more difficult to say. I could not pin this on any one place.”

Many credit Manchester as the birthplace of terrace fashion, others namecheck Liverpool. Wherever it began, one thing was for certain: this new way of dressing was offering young, working-class men a space where they could engage with fashion.

“Then we got into one-upmanship,” says Primett. “It was all about who had the best and the latest gear. You might have started out wanting the best Patrick football boots to be like the best footballer. Next thing you know you were after the latest must-have Patrick cagoule. And so it continued.”

The Evolution Of Terrace Fashion

The one-upmanship meant that terrace fashion evolved quickly, especially during the 80s. “The style changed rapidly and dramatically,” recalls Gary Aspden, a footwear designer and brand consultant for Adidas, and cult figure in terrace fashion. “It went from skin-tight jeans to flares to a tapered fit to a 501 fit to a loose, baggy fit – all in the space of a decade. It would literally change overnight. It was street fashion in the truest sense. You had to be part of it to keep up with it.”

During the 90s, cornerstone brands such as Sergio Tacchini and Fila gave way to the likes of Stone Island and CP Company. High-end names, such as Prada, Burberry, Aquascutum and Gucci also began to creep into the stands as casuals continued in their bid to outdo each other.

However, the constant peacocking wasn’t to last. The advent of new technology and online auctions saw previously rare items becoming more easily obtainable and the casual look plateaued. “The playing field is so different to how it was when I was a teenager,” says Aspden. “And that’s down to the internet.

“Nowadays casual style has a much more set look and whilst it still exists there isn’t the same urgency in the style one-upmanship that used to go on. The only two brands I can think of that had the longevity to maintain their relevance right the way through were Adidas and Lacoste.”

Terrace Fashion In Modern Menswear

Today, terrace fashion has swaggered out of the stands and into the mainstream. Brands that once had heavy links to football violence have shaken off those negative connotations and become more accessible. It’s the result of the casual look moving beyond its sports-tribe roots and becoming a lifestyle for style-conscious men.

It’s something that Aspden recognises from his work on Adidas’ Spezial line – a collection of clothing that has been bringing casual style to a wider audience. “With Spezial we acknowledged that there is a hardcore Adidas-dedicated audience here in the UK and across Northern Europe that has its roots in casual style and bears little relation the sneakerhead-hype-basketball-inspired sportswear culture that permeates the US.”

Music has also had a huge part to play in opening the casual uniform up to a wider audience. The advent of acid house in the late 1980s and early 1990s brought sportier styles and big logos into the spotlight, while artists such as Liam Gallagher, the Stone Roses and Kasabian have all played a part in keeping the style alive today.

Terrace Trainer Culture

The word “sneakerhead” probably isn’t something you’d tend to associate with the rain-battered terraces of English football clubs, but trainer culture is rife in this country thanks to the casuals. However, while traditional sneaker enthusiasts fawn over all things Nike and New Balance, for the terrace fashion set there’s only one brand worth striving for.

“Adidas has always made the best football products and for me that is at the root of it,” says Aspden. “Where I grew up, when the whole terrace thing kicked off in the late 1970s, it was young kids that adopted the brand’s football shoes as a fashion staple.”

Most of Aspden’s generation were introduced to Adidas footwear through football shoes like the Kick, the Mamba, the Bamba and the Samba. As the 1980s rolled on, all manner of Adidas styles became popular – not just football-inspired models. “We were wearing everything from tennis, running, training, indoor and even the leisure shoes that Adidas made at that time,” Aspden remembers. “There was also a huge subculture of kids travelling over to Switzerland, Austria and Germany to get hold of Adidas trainers that weren’t available in the UK.”

After spotting the demand, savvy retailers such as Liverpool’s Wade Smith and Manchester’s Oasis (not the band) circumvented the company and began importing Adidas shoes themselves. This opened things up to a wider audience and made copping rare trainers more manageable for UK enthusiasts, further cementing the brand with the three stripes as the go-to for casual footwear.

“I think most terrace lads like the simplicity of that Adidas aesthetic from the 70s and 80s,” Aspden adds. “Adidas footwear is synonymous with casual style in the same way that Doc Martens are synonymous with skinheads.”

It’s a trend as evergreen as Converse All-Stars, but even so, the modern obsession with retro sneakers has brought 80s and 90s styles back into fashion.

Key Pieces

The typical terracewear aficionado’s wardrobe will be packed to bursting point with expensive coats, technical jackets and rare trainers. However, the bulk of it can be divided up into seven distinct categories. These are the key styles you need to know about.

Mac

If you’ve ever been unfortunate enough to have seen Green Street, there are likely two things you remember about Charlie Hunnam’s football-firm-boss character. Number one: his shockingly badly acted Cockney accent. And number two: his pristine, Stone Island trench coat.

In the 1980s, casuals made a move toward British luxury brands, the two main ones being Burberry and Aquascutum. These two labels are known for producing some of the finest long-length outerwear and it wasn’t long before beige, knee-length coats were flooding football grounds.

In more recent years, the style has lost ground to more technical styles but still remains a cornerstone of casual culture.

Hooded Jacket

The north-west of England is arguably the spiritual home of terrace fashion. Rainy, outerwear-loving cities like Manchester and Liverpool gave rise to the casuals and as such, the scene’s affinity for anoraks and cagoules is deep rooted.

Terrace fashion is about two key things: who’s go the best clobber, and keeping the elements at bay while watching the match. This set of requirements has seen high-quality, high-end hooded jackets become the defining garment of the scene. Brands like Stone Island and CP Company have become the gold standards, but sailing and outdoor brands such as Henri Lloyd, Fjallraven and Paul & Shark are also popular.

Track Jacket

Before all the Aquascutum trench coats and CP Company goggle jackets, the humble track jacket reigned supreme in the casual’s wardrobe. This sporty, retro piece is still a common sight at matches today, but it was when fans started bringing tracksuits back from trips to Europe in the late 1970s that it really go a foothold in the subculture.

Italian brands like Sergio Tacchini, Ellesse and Fila soon came to define the look. The fact that these names weren’t available in the UK at the time only made them all the more appealing to young football fans keen to outdo one another in the fashion stakes.

Jeans

While corduroy trousers and even flares have enjoyed waves of popularity in terrace fashion, it’s straight-leg denim that has prevailed. Ever since the early days in Liverpool, jeans have ruled the roost and as the casual look continues to evolve, so does its followers’ taste in denim.

Traditionally, mid-wash and stonewash fabric from Emporio Armani was probably the most widely worn – almost an afterthought to an expensive jacket and nice pair of trainers. However, today’s terrace-fashion aficionados are more clued up on their weights and wefts, often opting for heavy, raw denim from dedicated brands like Edwin and Nudie.

Scarf

A multipurpose accessory, useful for both keeping the chill off on wintery terraces and obscuring faces before and after a post-match scuffle, the scarf is deeply entrenched into the casual way of life.

Often worn to cover the nose and mouth, checks and tartans are what it’s all about. British brands, such as Burberry, Aquascutum and Barbour are all popular choices and are still a common sight at football grounds today.

Cap

For those casuals intent on fighting, baseball caps have always provided another handy means of keeping their faces hidden from CCTV cameras and police patrols. This practical use has seen the cap permeate terrace fashion making it the headwear of choice for for both violent and peaceful terrace lads alike.

Again, Burberry is a favourite brand, due to its luxury price tag and distinctive all-over check branding. Meanwhile, Polo Ralph Lauren and Lacoste are solid options at the lower end of the price spectrum.

Trainers

Terrace fashion is probably at least fifty per cent about the trainers. Having the most sought-after kicks is a huge part of causal culture and although the Reebok Classic is a staple option, it’s Adidas that rules the roost as far as footwear is concerned.

Classics like the Gazelle and the Samba have remained popular over the years. But during the early years, young fans were often travelling back and forth to Germany to pick up rare models that couldn’t be found in the UK.

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seoulfulcity · 6 years

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July 27, 2018: Take Me to North Korea

안녕하세요,

Before I left Los Angeles, my mom and the International Studies advisor both reminded me to not do anything stupid and visit North Korea.

With that said, this is a blog on when I visited the North-South Korean border.

I have been planning to visit the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) ever since I chose South Korea as the country I wanted to study in. North Korea had been the hot topic of discussion recently because of Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un's heated exchange of words via Twitter and the recent Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea when the two Koreas marched under one flag.

On April 27, the Inter-Korean Summit happened where both Kim Jong Un and Moon Jae In crossed the border - Kim Jong Un stepped into South Korea and Moon Jae In stepped into North Korea.

On June 12 was the first US-North Korea Summit in Singapore when Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un finally met and talked about denuclearization of North Korea.

So, yes. North Korea had been under the spotlight throughout the year, and when's the best time to visit the border than being in South Korea?

I chose to visit the DMZ on July 27, the 65th anniversary of when both Koreas signed the Korean Armistice Agreement in Panmunjom to cease armed forces, putting an unofficial end to the Korean war.

I was supposed to go with Florence, Wendelyn, and Esther, but everybody woke up late. Florence woke up a good half hour before the start of our trip under Seoul City Tour; Wendelyn and Esther did not wake up at all, despite of our never-ending attempts of messaging and calling them.

I waited outside Itaewon Station Exit 1, the exit that both Wendelyn and Florence both told me to write. The van picked me up and waited for five minutes until Florence arrived. We drove for about ten minutes before transferring to a bigger tour bus at 8:30 AM.

We drove by the Imjin River where the tour guide showed us why the edges of the streets were fenced by telling us the story of the Blue House Raid or the January 21 Incident in 1968.

1960s South Korea was just a big mess. The Vietnam War was ongoing where both the US and South Korea were sending troops to support South Vietnam, then-North Korean leader Kim Il Sung was finding ways to reunify the Korean peninsula under his rule, and then-South Korean president Park Chung Hee seized power after the 1961 coup-d'état forcing the democratically-elected Yun Bo Seon out of office, ending the Second Republic's parliamentary system giving rise to a military government under Park Chung Hee.

Now, Kim Il Sung hand-picked 31 soldiers - the best North Korea could offer - with one goal in mind: kill Park Chung Hee. Since the United States was preoccupied sending military troops to support South Vietnam during the war, it was in Kim Il Sung's best interest to take over South Korea at this time and reunify the peninsula under his leadership.

Kim Il Sung said that by killing President Park, it will cause political chaos in South Korea and North Korea would go in to aid and provide support to their "South Korean brethren".

Well, the 31 hand-picked North Korean soldiers, called Unit 124, successfully crossed the North-South Korean border and swam across the Imjik River into Seoul. They were close to getting into the Blue House, but we all know they did not successfully kill Park Chung Hee and reunite the peninsula under Kim Il Sung, right? Please read more about the Blue House Raid because it's very interesting.

We reached the city of Paju, just south of Panmunjom, and parked at Imjingak, a park where the Bridge of Freedom lies. There was an old train on the track which was used by the North Koreans who were repatriating into South Korea during and after the Korean War. The area surrounding the bridge and the train were covered by the South Korean and reunification flags wishing for a united Korea one day, so the separated families can reunite once again. There also stood Mangbaeddan, an altar where Koreans can go and pay their respects and honors to their families who stayed in North Korea after the war.

After Imjingak, we drove to the Third Infiltration Tunnel. It is one of the four known tunnels dug up by North Korea to infiltrate into South Korea for a surprise attack on Seoul. There is said to be up to twenty tunnels running from North Korea to South Korea, though only four have been discovered. The tunnels can accommodate up to 30,000 armed men every hour, and all four discovered tunnels lead up to the capital city of Seoul.

Upon discovery of the third tunnel, North Korea denied the allegations and said it was part of a coal mine even though the tunnels are granite, which is igneous in origin (coals would be found in stones of sedimentary in origin). The tunnel was also found to have been sprayed with black paint to make it look like coal.

We were required to leave our belongings in the lockers and had to go through security to make sure no electronics were brought in. We had to climb down a 350-steep slope to get to the tunnel that crosses the North-South Korean border with helmets on. Upon reaching the third tunnel, the ceilings were wet with water and could only accommodate people who were within five feet tall - compared to South Koreans, North Koreans are noticeably shorter due to malnourishment. We walked until we reached the end to peak at the North Korean end of the tunnel, which was inaccessible to visitors, then we had to climb back up the same 350 meter-steep tunnel.

After the tunnel, went across the park to watch a movie on the Korean War, the Korean Armistice Agreement, the discovery of the four tunnels, and the booming country of South Korea. The topic of reunification to reunite the separated families and for a peaceful peninsula echoed throughout the film.

After the film, Florence and I took pictures with the DMZ sign and a reunification statue that depicted an Earth split in two with the Korean peninsula on both half. Men, women, and children are pushing the halves to make Earth whole once again.

After the visit to the tunnel, we drove up the Dorasan Observatory, which is the closest point of South Korea to North Korea. In the observatory, the visitors could see Kijong-dong, the North Korean Propaganda Village. The village was established in the 1950s, showcasing North Korea as rich and well-established, as an attempt to lure North Korean defectors and South Koreans to go to the North. South Korea built a flagpole on its side of the demarcation line, and North Korea retaliated by building a taller one next to the Propaganda Village.

The Flagpole War started where both countries decided to beat each other for the tallest flagpole, where South Korea finally decided to end it and have North Korea win. For over a decade, the North Korean flagpole was the tallest in the world, until Azerbaijan established a taller flagpole in National Flag Square in 2010.

From Dorasan Observatory, the visitors can also take a glimpse of the Kim Il Sung statue and can also take pictures with South Korean soldiers patrolling the area.

We bumped into Esther, who's touring in a different time schedule with us. Wendelyn was taking the late afternoon tour after waking up later than Esther.

We, then, headed to Dorasan Station, a train station established in 2002 by Korail that would start working once the peninsula is reunited.

Dorasan Station has a line that would lead to Pyeongyang, although the main purpose of the station right now is to instill hope for a future reunification. The station is very reminiscent of Incheon International Airport and Seoul Station, equipped with information desks, waiting area (much similar to Seoul Station), a marquee that showed the train schedule, and an entrance to the train that would make a trip to Pyeongyang.

We bought commemorative train tickets to Pyeongyang before heading out.

After the trip to Dorasan Station, we stopped by a ginseng place where an Indonesian woman talked to us about the benefits of ginseng and lead us to a room that sold different forms of ginseng, which brought terrible flashbacks of my time in Beijing with the fake tour Simi and I ended up with.

We were dropped off at City Hall right after, close to Gyeongbokgung and Namdaemun Market, where Florence and I walked around under the 110-degree weather.

We wanted to wait for Sophie, who was at Namsan Tower, to eat with her at Chanyeol's Viva Polo, but she wasn't able to, so both Florence and I settled for naengmyeon at Yukssam Naengmyeon (육싼 냉면) at Namdaemun, before heading back to Anam around 3 PM.

It was an educational day, although I was sad I did not get to meet with Sophie one last time since my train ride to Busan was later that night. Maybe I will see her next time, maybe when I book a trip to Vienna, Austria? Until then!

고마워요, Chris 「크리스」

P.S. I woke up craving bulgogi and kimchi today. I really miss Seoul. We would still role-play on the Kakao group chat about meeting in front of Frontier for a meal - Matt would ask to borrow my shaving cream, and we would pretend to plan on picking Valentino and Peter up from their rooms.

#abroad #international summer campus #isc #ku #study #summer #korea university #seoul #korea #north korea #dmz

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betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years

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Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#200-191)

#200: Alice Babs -- Lilla stjärna (Sweden 1958)

“Lilla stjärna i det höga, svara mig, svara mig, Kommer han som jag ska få så kär?”

“Little star up above, answer me, answer me, Is he coming, the man that I will love?”

And so we begin the top 200 with an innocent and sweet number, and which resembles the best of 1950s Eurovision. I'm not a fan of the decade, because most of the songs are a bit too old-fashioned for my taste (especially since we have the beginnings of rock-n-roll outside the contest), but Lilla stjarna is one of the better soundtrack-like songs.

Before Sweden became the superpower in Eurovision we all know and love (or love to hate), they debuted with this dainty, beautiful song that was selected internally. There's a sense of longing in the lyrics, with the narrator hoping that their loved one would return. It’s definitely a fairytale, with that classical instrumentation and Alice’s innocent voice.

Personal ranking: 2nd/10 Actual ranking: 4th/10 in Hilversum

#199: Domenico Modugno -- Nel Blu Dipinto di Blu (Italy 1958)

“Penso che un sogno così non ritorni mai più Mi dipingevo le mani e la faccia di blu Poi d’improvviso venivo dal vento rapito E incominciavo a volare nel cielo infinito”

“I think such a dream will never come back I painted my hands and my face blue Then suddenly I was ravished by the wind And I started flying in the infinite sky”

The original classic from Eurovision, and the biggest hit of them all. It topped the Billboard charts in 1959, won two Grammys in the first-ever ceremony in 1959 (and still the only Italian-language song to do so), and is covered and over again to this day.

Considering the lack of attention most of the songs got in the first two contests, it's possible without Nel blu dipinto di blu's commercial success, we wouldn't have a Eurovision Song Contest to speak of. Or it would've been done for by 1960, haha.

Sometimes, I forget about this song when thinking about favorites, but when I listen to the intro, it starts bringing you into its little world, where I’m actually flying! The lyrics are quite cool and imaginative, adding to that feeling.

And of course, that "Volare..." is enough to keep people singing along!

Personal ranking: 1st/10 Actual ranking: 3rd/10 in Hilversum #Italywasrobbed

#198: Korni -- Moja Generacjia (Yugoslavia 1974)

“Mene majka moja rodi da sanjam o slobodi, U prvoj noći da čujem zveket, Da plačem sa rukom na usnama,”

“My mother gave me life to dream of freedom, The first night to hear gun sounds To cry with my hand on my lips”

World War II in Yugoslavia is not something I've learned about in depth. What I do know is that the Axis powers were able to take the whole country, and two major groups arose to collaborate with them. The Ustashas (Croatian nationalists) and Chetniks (Serbian nationalists) also both sought to destroy the other ethnic group and there was a bit of a mess all around.

(If you have any more information on this topic, let me know as I do want to learn)

Moja Generacija is a harrowing but powerful progressive rock song about those born during the Second World War, and their lives as a whole. I like the dark soundscape along with the instruments that accompanied it too. The orchestration at the chorus is especially noteworthy, because of the sweeping strings and the brass which highlight the times as a whole.

(And apparently, there's a seven-minute English-language cut, which makes it even more of a progressive rock song.)

Personal ranking: 3rd/17 Actual ranking: 12th/17 in Brighton

#197: Shiri Maimon -- HaSheket Shenishar (Israel 2005)

המבט אחר והקור חודר אתה מסתתר, את גופי שובר

“The glance is different and the cold is piercing You’re hiding, breaking my body”

Israel in the 2000s wasn't the best song-wise. I can only think of two songs that were really good in that period--of which this was one of them, which held Israel's best placing this century until Toy won three years ago. And it couldn't be anymore different from the song Israel would eventually win with.

Initially, I didn't get it, as it felt a bit derivative. Even now, it has offgrown me a bit because of pop ballad structure. But what I really liked was the smooth transition between Hebrew and English, along with how well Shiri sings it. She has a really sweet tone to her voice, which really helps in conveying the sorrow of being in love with a cheating partner and having to let go of it for her own happiness.

And that dress--it has to be one of my favorite performance outfits of all time!

Personal ranking: 4th/39 Actual ranking: 4th/24 GF in Kyiv

#196: Inga and Anush -- Jan Jan (Armenia 2009)

“Can't ya see, we aren't free?, Fixed like a tree to the holy ground, With my sound, gotta be always around, I wanna dance, don't ya stand, sister give your hand,”

"Sister, here we go!"

For a dance song, it's actually quite sedate--there isn't many moments of true boppiness, but there was something more "psychadelic" about the production and how it was put together. Either way, it works well all the same.

The sisters do a good job singing together, and I like the mix of ethno and dance music. Plus, their costumes are absolutely expensive and glamourous--I would like to wear them if I ever got the chance.

Also, for some reason, Azeris like to spam the comments on this song and claim that the Armenians "stole" their traditional clothing and music. Considering the two countries' proximity, I'm not so shocked about their similarities, but if Azeris would like to share a bit more of their ethnic music, it's always welcome!

Personal ranking: 8th/42 Actual ranking: 10th/25 GF in Moscow

#195: Sabina Babayeva -- When the Music Dies (Azerbaijan 2012)

“You, you are the best of me The reason that I believe, so don't leave me now...”

(Yes, Azerbaijan can send ethnic-influenced music. Hehe.)

Azerbaijan’s host entry when they brought the contest to Baku is a bit of a standard ballad, but with an ethnic twist. The use of balaban really highlights the melancholy of the song, and the mughum vocals pierces one's soul when performed.

I could feel how Sabina sings every word, pleading with her lover to stay with her despite it all. And that doesn’t begin to add with the beautiful LED dress, adding to the drama of the song as we see it in white, but it gets overlaid with sparks, shades of turquoise, and its final form with reds and oranges. That was a particularly beautiful moment.

A lot of fans believe this was the song that should've won it for Azerbaijan, and I can't disagree! This is a gem indeed.

Personal ranking: 6th/42 (a bit awkward here because I left out my runner-up of 2012 in this ranking, so amongst the songs here it's 5th/42) Actual ranking: 4th/26 GF in Baku

#194: Milestones -- Falter im Wind (Austria 1972)

“Tanz um die Lichter, Schmetterling, Deine Farben flammen auf, Tot ist die Nacht, in deinem Tanz, Ist das Leben hell wie Tag”,

“Dance around the lights, butterfly Your colours flame up The night is dead, in your dance Life is bright like the day”

My first forays on pre-1990s Eurovision was with the British blog, Lovelovepeacepeace. She would recap every year between 1968 and 2000, and 1972 was one of the years I went through the songs because of her. Coincidentally, I got to like Falter im Wind as much as she does.

It definitely fits with the hippy era, in terms of folk music and the general aesthetic. There's even a prominent (weird little) flute motif throughout. The lyrics talk about the life or a butterfly and how it shouldn't go to far into the sun. A bit strange, considering what most other songs are about, but it's a nice and gentle sentiment (with a message not unlike that of "Waterfalls", how strange).

Austria is not usually known for their highlights, but this is definitely one of their best (and a personal favorite of mine). Feel free to go an a road-trip playing this (though not with the studio cut--that's a bit slower)!

Personal ranking: 1st/18 Actual ranking: 5th/18 in Edinburgh

#193: Roger Bens -- Femme dans ses rêves aussi (France 1985)

“Mélodie, mélodrame, sourire et puis larmes Amoureuse ou sans âme, elle est d’abord femme...”

“Melody, melodrama, smile and then tears In love or without soul, first of all she’s woman”

ESC 1985 is notable not only because of a certain ripped-skirt incident, but also because they have a live album with the first eleven songs of the contest. Among these is the French entry, which has one of the best orchestrations of all-time, thanks to Michel Bernholc's arrangemnt.

(And because of that, it is my most-listened to song on Spotify)

The violins primarily make this song what it is—there are synths in the studio track, but don’t pack the same punch. The bass really provides some depth, and the brass at the bridge really sells the whole thing home.

The sense of drama in the song also includes the lyrics about being a woman and embracing her in all the ways. Despite the occasional eyebrow-raising and lip licking, Roger sings this with gusto.

To add to this, where is Roger Bens? This was the last known sighting of him and he is presumed to be dead.

Personal ranking: 3rd/19 Actual ranking: 10th/19 in Gothenburg

#192: Nina Zilli -- L'Amore È Femmina (Out Of Love) (Italy 2012)

“If you were my king, would I be your queen?, Stop breaking up my heart, you kill me – boom boom boom”

No, she's not Amy Winehouse resurrected for one night, but Nina Zilli! She also competed in Sanremo that year, and Emma (see #223) won it with the harsh but determined "Non è l'inferno".

Beyond the retro music and Nina's bouffant on the night, I didn't notice any similarities to Amy Winehouse. This doesn't mean "L'amore e femmina" have its own charms--it falls into the jazz theme that "Madness of Love" (#232) continues, but is the opposite in more than one way.

The English-Italian mix is a but clunky at times, especially in the choruses but it doesn’t take away from the attitude this song brings. I love the jazzy vibes and how Nina sings it with a sense of sassiness and charm. Her backing vocalists really help with conveying the mood, and don't do a bad job when the song goes back to Italian!

(As for the two Sanremo songs in question, I prefer Non è l'inferno to Per Sempre--the former is quite determined, and I really like the lyrics. Though I think the latter would have more appeal in terms of themes, even it's a bit more derivative musically)

Personal ranking: 5th/42 Actual ranking: 9th/26 GF in Baku

#191: Hovi Star -- Made of Stars (Israel 2016)

“Dance with me like we are made of stars...”

This is one of the first songs which got me into Eurovision. I would put this on repeat over and over again, because it's just so beautiful. (Or it was because it's Israeli, haha. Another country bias of mine will appear later.)

The first version of Made of Stars was a trashy and dull dance song, but the rework into a ballad makes it more magical. It’s serene yet touching, with a calming piano motif and a dramatic crescendo at the end.

The staging of Made of Stars also helps; while I'm still put off by the LED face when the backing vocalists sing "you hypontize me", everything else just works. The otherwise starry LEDs, the hoop dancers, and Hovi's glowing presence make this into a sweet, albeit overlooked package.

Personal ranking: 6th/42 Actual ranking: 14th/26 GF in Stockholm

#esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc sweden #esc italy #esc yugoslavia #esc israel #esc armenia #esc azerbaijan #esc austria #esc france #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

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