#Rumble: Turbulent Shore Break

[kmac4him1st]

Remembrance

Maundy Thursday! What was it like to be with Jesus at the Last Supper and what relevance does it have for us today? Do you Remember? Think On This Today! God bless ya.

As they ate, Jesus took the bread and blessed it and broke it and gave it to his disciples. He said to them, “This is my body. Eat it.” Then taking the cup of wine, he gave thanks to the Father, he entered into covenant with them, saying, “This is my blood. Each of you must drink it in fulfillment of the covenant. For this is the blood that seals the new covenant. It will be poured out for many…

[peachsayshi]

Hello can I request a part 5 for the inexperienced reader where they finally do the deed? Thank you and I really love all your writings. You’re amazing!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x inexperienced female reader (part 4) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 7,712

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰ previous parts: 1/2/3/4

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: hi, nonnie! I haven't posted the official part 4 for playboy geto x reader, so here is an update! part 5 is the final part of this mini series and I am still figuring out the scenario for the big moment. I had this idea in my head and really wanted to write out. I hope you enjoy the update!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: other jjk characters are mentioned, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; hurt/comfort; the first fight; making up; smut; oral (f receiving); nipple play; overstimulation; fingering; practice makes perfect *wink wink*

There’s a downpour outside - a peaceful shower trapping you in a cocoon of stillness. Grey clouds collide, orchestrating a rumble of thunder to disperse across the horizon. You squeeze the glass of tea in your hand and breathe out a heavy sigh as you continue observing the waves crashing onto the shore in the distance.

Standing in pensive thought, you find yourself contemplating why the sky isn’t a saturated blue, and why you are not wiping away grains of sand between your toes while tasting the salt in the air and getting kissed by the sun in the red bikini that you are wearing.

This is your first weekend away with Suguru and it was supposed to be perfect…magical even, but…

You haven’t exchanged more than a few of sentences with him in two whole days.

The truth forms as a discomforting lump in your throat. At this point you’re convinced that the turbulent events of this week is what conjured up such a dreadful storm to hijack your mini vacation, and you’ve been a bundle of nerves ever since because you’ve never had a fight with him before.

Not a real one, anyway.

Whenever a situation got remotely tense, your boyfriend would be the first person to jump in to talk things out. Suguru hated having petty arguments and always relied on strong communication to put out any fires before they set everything ablaze. You know it’s entirely unfair to put that expectation on him but, the truth is, you’ve grown used to him mediating, and depended on him to squash potential disagreements without question.

What you weren’t expecting was for things to escalate between you two because it’s never happened before, and now you aren’t sure how to proceed.

What if he leaves me?

The nauseating thought of a potential break up twists your gut, but you brush off your anxiety as you lift the cup to your lips and take another sip of soothing chamomile.

Couples fight, you think, it’s normal to fight.

Your fingers pinch the ceramic so hard, you feel it might crack from the pressure. You’ve tried to reach out since then, but Suguru remained unresponsive to your little gestures of peace.

Why is he still ignoring me?

You lean your head against the window and exhale, eyes fixated on the storm’s dramatic performance. A bolt of lighting crackles across the sky, channeling you back to the night on Suguru’s sofa just two weeks prior.

His fingers were trailing the outline of your thigh, keeping your body tucked perfectly into his frame. You were twirling a strand of his onyx hair between your fingers, listening to him proposition the idea of the weekend trip away.

“Yuki is one of my oldest friends. She lives in a beach house, so that’s where we will all stay…” he casually stated. “We visit her a couple of times a year, and I know she would love to meet you.”

You said yes without hesitation.

At the time, there was no need for you to question who Yuki was or how Suguru knew her. There was no need for you to pry deeper into the memories of his past because you were just living in the bubble of present happiness.

“We used to spend every summer at her beach house while I was in university,” Suguru informed you a few days later, slipping in that tidbit of information right after describing all the places he was excited to take you to. “I love that her beach house is so far away from the city. Plus, they have the best soba in the village. You’ll love it, I just know you will…”

This deep infatuation you shared for Suguru had your heart swelling up more often around him. Your valves were arrows to a compass that always spun directly towards him, your shining North Star. Your eyes were glazed over in a rosy shine of deep romance, making it hard for you to blink away the hue of its affection, but you should have taken a breath to catch yourself.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have reacted so harshly later on.

The ”problem”, as Suguru dubs it, happened two days before the trip.

Shoko invited you to join her and Utahime on a shopping date to pick up some new swim suits for the occasion. However, you weren’t expecting to see Mei Mei upon arrival. Your friendship with Shoko made it easier for you to blend in with the rest of Suguru’s group, but Mei always kept you at an arm’s length. For the most part, you approached any interactions with her with caution. You made sure you were nice and didn’t try to pursue anything beyond cordial conversations. Despite your attempts at playing cool, Mei continued making snide remarks about you being “Suguru’s Girl” and enjoyed addressing you condescendingly.

Truthfully, she treated you as if you were simply a stranger with one foot out the door and not the person who was in a committed relationship with her friend.

Your eyes, powdered with pink infatuation, had you feeling indifferent about her sharp tongue on this particular outing, and it made you loosely speak up about how excited you were to go on this trip with your boyfriend.

Your walls were completely down when Mei went in with a new attack while you were all having dinner together.

“It’s adorable how excited you are. Besides, I think it’s about time that you met Kiki…” she giggled, earning a glare from both Shoko and Utahime.

“Kiki?” you replied like a naive child, all wide eyed with an innocent pinch between your brow.

“Suguru didn’t tell you?” Mei coos as she proceeds to take a sip of her milkshake. “That’s his special nickname for Yuki. The two of them used to spend their summers together getting high and fucking. She was his first, you know…”

Your cheeks were stinging with embarrassment. You glanced over to both Shoko and Utahime, praying that one of them would denounce Mei’s confession.

Instead, Shoko shook her head with disapproval and simply added, “we all know that it wasn’t serious…”

“Wasn’t serious?” Mei interjected, her cruel eyes fixed on you. “Suguru was in love with her…”

“He wasn’t in love with her,” Shoko sternly answered. “They were friends. Don’t make up stories in your head”

Mei swirled her straw around her vanilla milkshake. “We are his friends too but that didn’t stop him from hooking up with us either. The only difference is that Yuki is the one who broke his heart afterwards. Suguru didn’t speak to her for an entire year...”

“How about you don’t stir up problems for no reason, Mei.” Utahime bit back, and Mei responded by rolling her eyes with mild disinterest.

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Everyone at this table, except Shoko, hooked up with Suguru at one point,” she let out a pretty laugh, one laced with wicked intent. “Maybe this is something we can all bond over at the beach house. Compare notes and what not…”

“How about we dial back the bitchy attitude and put the subject to rest” Shoko interjected, and Mei merely huffed before sipping her milkshake with nonchalance.

Hot, heavy jealousy coiled around your skin, and you used every ounce of restraint not to pick up Mei’s drink and toss it right in her face. By the time your brain was able to connect the dots to formulate even a single sentence, the conversation swiftly moved onto another subject.

You reached for your soda, slurping the icy beverage in an attempt to cool yourself off.

This isn’t the first time that Suguru’s friends have made teasing comments about his past, but Mei took it too far.

The worst part about that god-awful interaction is that it was working out in her favor.

Why didn’t Suguru tell you?

The question sat in your head up until you returned home. You were in a bitter state, choosing to curb Suguru’s calls and ignore Shoko’s messages.

She still called you the next morning with a heartfelt apology.

“We’ve all known Mei for years so we put up with her attitude,” Shoko explained, “But you owe her no allegiance and what she did was uncalled for. I’m really sorry about that…”

“It’s fine, Shoko…” you insisted, but your tone was hard and defensive because it wasn’t fine and you barely got any sleep thinking about what she said.

“I had a long conversation with her last night, and she’ll be backing off from now on,” Shoko consoled.

“Great,” you answered through gritted teeth, trying your best not to hurl the phone at the wall.

“Look,” Shoko added on with a sigh, “I know Suguru doesn’t have the best track record and I know we all give him shit for it, but we also all know that we’ve been too hard on him. He really, really cares about you.”

Tears pricked your eyes. You wished those words were enough to sway you back but they felt just as empty as the space in your chest.

Why didn’t he tell me?

You couldn't stop wondering why.

The day before you left for the getaway, you were giving Suguru the coldest shoulder. He had come over to help you pack your things, but instead was left puzzled by your behavior.

You leaned away from his kisses, always tilting so he aimed for your cheek. You shrugged off his touch, pretending to busy yourself with searching through your closet and picking your outfits. You could feel his piercing stare from over your shoulder, those dark eyes dissecting the softest parts of you to get to the root of the problem. You tried to focus on the music from gently playing through the speakers, but as you walked over to your bag to pack another dress, Suguru quickly reached for your hips to drag you onto his lap.

“What’s wrong?” he asked seriously, his voice the tip of a sharp blade pressing into your heart.

You shook your head, caressing the fabric between your fingers. “Nothing, I have a headache,” you repeated firmly, sticking to the same excuse that you had given him earlier.

“Sweetheart,” he replied tenderly, your body stiffening when he brushed his lips over your shoulder to leave a contemplative kiss. “What’s actually wrong?”

You froze, your anger scalding your insides as it bubbled to the surface. You squeeze the dress between your hands, creasing the smooth surface. Suguru rests his chin on your shoulder, patiently waiting for you to at least acknowledge him.

“Is it true that you were involved with “your friend” Yuki?”

You hid your hurt with sarcasm, her name rolling off your tongue with a hint of disgust.

Suguru lifted his head from your chin, his fingers pinching against the fat of your hip while his other hand moved to reach for your jaw. He angled your face towards him, a pained expression masking over his breathtaking features.

“Who told you?”

“Mei,” you answered sharply, “apparently Shoko and Utahime know all about it too…”

“Look,” Suguru sighed, “it’s…it’s not what you think…”

“Did you to spend your summers getting high and fucking?” you interrupted harshly, mimicking the cruelty in Mei’s voice as you posed your question.

Suguru closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is it true that she was your first?” you asked, your voice wavering slightly this time.

“Yes, but…”

You rolled your tear soaked eyes as you stood up on your feet, tossing the dress into your bag as you folded your arms across your chest to give Suguru your back.

You weren’t sure what hurt more. The fact that Mei had all the ammunition in the world to hurt your feelings, or that she knew that your doting boyfriend would keep this from you.

Suguru stood up, carefully approaching you from behind as he extended his hand out to find your waist once more.

“Mei’s a gossip,” he contended, “I told you that when we first met…”

You spun on your heel to meet his anxious stare, drilling your fury right into him.

“That’s not the point,” you argued. “The point is that you lied to me! The point is that you spent weeks going on and on about “your friend” without even warning me that you were both intimately involved…”

“We put that shit behind us years ago. I didn’t want to bring it up, and I didn’t think I had to. Mei shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Didn’t think you had to?” you repeated with confusion.

“There was no reason to,” he replied with annoyance, his fingers digging into your waist. “Because you and I are supposed to trust each other, and considering how things have been going between us, I thought we did.”

Your heart raced at the fact that Suguru was still keeping his mouth tight lipped over what happened with Yuki, which did little to help your own dramatized theories on their relationship.

If he was being secretive about something as serious as this, then who knows what other tales he might have been spinning with that honeyed mouth of his.

The knot that’s wrung itself around your mind finally snapped.

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have an inventory of people I slept with to keep track of…”

Suguru winced, the involuntary grimace an unusual sign of hurt. Your apology shot to the tip of your tongue, and you were ready to jump right into his arms and plead for forgiveness. This brutish commentary was so unlike you, but you didn’t know how to keep a handle on your own insecurities this time around.

“Keep track, huh?” he answered softly, the faintest hint of distress coming through and making you nip at your bottom lip out of guilt. “Must be hard having a boyfriend who is so used up…”

“No...you're not. That's not what I mean, I’m…I’m just saying that it’s different,” you retracted, easing your delivery to try and explain yourself. “You just don’t have to worry-”

“Is there a reason for you to worry?” he rebuked, quirking his brow in genuine surprise.

You scoffed, “You told me about everyone else you’ve been involved with but with her you are suddenly keeping quiet-”

“Please, tell me you’re fucking joking right now-“

“You can’t-” you interjected, clearing the catch in your throat as your voice warbled uncomfortably. “You can’t just expect me to be okay with this, Suguru. I have to be able to trust you and that’s only going to work if you are honest with me. Keeping something like this from me doesn’t help…”

Suguru dropped his hand away from your waist, and folded them over his chest tightly. There was a twitch in his jaw, and the disappointment in his eyes spoke volumes. You both stood there in silence, studying the other in deep concentration.

“I thought you did trust me. You were practically naked in bed with me when you said it. So what is it then? Do you trust me or not?”

Your face grew increasingly hot recalling his birthday, the way you were soft, vulnerable and pliable sprawled out against his chest...

“I do…” you replied with very little confidence. “Sort of…”

You swallowed your regret to stare down at your feet shamefully, and allowing your pride to fight the battle for you. If you can waver his insecurity even a little then maybe you might find some equal footing with the discomfort.

“I can’t change my past. I can’t erase the people I’ve been involved with. Yes, we both had different opinions about how we viewed relationships, but we aren’t going last long as a couple if I’m the only one that has faith that this is going to work,” Suguru informed calmly, using his fingers to gesture between you both.

Hearing those words from your lover’s lips felt like surprise blow. You parted your mouth to exhale quietly, clenching your hands tightly by your side as you naively waited for him to attempt to turn things around.

“I’ve given you everything. I’m not going to force you to trust me,” Suguru adds on, his tone morphing into a cold, cruel note. “And if you fucking can’t, then I’m done.”

Your head shot up in surprise, the front of your brows upturning sorrowfully but Suguru had already turned on his heel to walk out of the room, slamming your bedroom door right behind him.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

The car ride to the beach house was terrible.

Neither you or Suguru said a single word to one another. He kept his focus on the road, while you kept replaying the words “I’m done” on repeat in your head.

It was disappointing to start off on such a sour note because Yuki’s beach house was the perfect getaway spot as Suguru described. The location was rural, and the building was quaint and cozy. The size is big enough to fit your entire group, but not to the point where it was gaudy. Suguru mentioned that the property belonged to Yuki’s mom, which she eventually inherited after she passed away.

Meeting Yuki took your breath away. From the moment you laid eyes on her you understood how a young Suguru would be infatuated. She was striking - tall, with long, golden hair that cascaded all the way down to her butt. Every part of her was perfect, from her toned tummy revealed by her short black cropped top, to her legs that seemed to go on forever which were covered in only a pair of loose denim shorts. She had a naturally cheeky grin, like there was something up her sleeve that no one could quite point out, and sharp brown eyes that were simply inviting.

She pulled Suguru in for a warm hug, and ruffled his hair like a sister would.

“Sug! Your hair’s getting long! I like it!” she chirped with a big smile, while Suguru held an effortlessly casual stance to play off that the two of you haven’t been ignoring each other this whole time. Yuki instantly turned to face you, “And you must be the girl that stole his heart! I’m so glad to meet you! This guy never shuts up about you…”

You felt small against her, and it wasn’t just due to her height. You could feel yourself shrinking into your own shame hearing her talk about your lover. Whatever doubts that sparked due to Mei’s burning statements were quickly turned to ash.

Yuki gave you a house tour and explained that Shoko was sharing a room with Mei and Utahime, while Satoru and Nanami bunked in another.

“If you’re comfortable you can stay in Suguru’s room. He kind of has his own bedroom from how often he’s stayed with me. If not, I’ve got a pull out sofa in my room,” Yuki informed, while you were trying your hardest to undo the tight knot in your belly.

Getting to know Yuki over the course of the two days only fed into your regret. You couldn’t help but watch her interactions with Suguru, only to conclude it was no different than how he behaved with Satoru and Shoko.

Even when he addressed her as “Kiki”, it came out with a level of comfort that felt a familial familiarity. If it wasn’t for Mei and her devious manipulation games, you would never have even have assumed that the pair were intimately involved with each other.

As your stubbornness started chipping away, you decided to at least try and make amends with your boyfriend.

On the first night, after getting ready for bed, you broke the long hours of silence by asking him where he was going after watching him get ready to leave the room that you both were supposed to be sharing.

“I’m staying with Satoru,” he curtly responded, and slammed the door behind him before you could get another word in.

Yesterday was painful to say the least. You attempted to sit down with him and Satoru for breakfast, but Suguru excused himself only a couple of minutes later. By mid-morning you texted to ask if he would like to join you and Shoko to walk around the village. You even brought up his favorite soba shop, but found yourself left on read.

His behavior was harsh and quite obvious. By lunchtime Shoko pulled you aside to ask if everything was okay.

“We’re fine,” you answered breathlessly, your worry sending tingles to the tips of your fingers and toes. “We got into a bit of an argument in the car, but we’ll talk things over”

Dinner last night was supposed to be a fun get together at one of the local omakase joints, but it turned into you and Suguru sitting on opposite sides of the table barely acknowledging each other.

You were trying to steal his glance, but he wouldn’t stop avoiding yours. Afterwards while all of you were standing outside, you found the courage to reach for Suguru’s hand to grab his attention.

“Hey,” you whispered low enough for only him to hear to avoid making it obvious to the others. Your heart fluttered when you noticed that Suguru didn’t let go of your hand, but instead pressed the pads of his fingers lightly against your palm to return the gesture.

Almost like he was saying hello.

“Do you maybe want to go for a walk?” you asked, eyes hopeful and desperate. “It’s nice outside tonight, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t gauge what he was thinking, but you paid close attention to his reactions. Like the way his eyes dipped to your fingers slightly interlaced with his own, and how his digits were merely tracing yours in the most featherlight touch.

Did he miss you too?

“I’m going out with Yuki tonight,” he announced, his tone sharp and daring.

Your heart winced.

You weren’t used to this side of Suguru at all.

You let go of his hand, and nodded your head to feign acceptance but your throat was tight and tears were glazing over your woeful irises.

“Oh, okay!” you answered with as much confidence as you could muster up. “I guess…I guess I’ll see what Shoko is up to. And-”

Your voice cracked when Suguru let go of your hand. The emptiness a cold touch against your palm.

“I-I hope you guys have fun catching up tonight-“

Suguru nodded his head, taking your breath away for only a second when he leans forward to leave a chaste kiss on your brow. Not giving you a chance to finish your statement.

The gesture shatters you, because you know that it wasn’t genuine.

He was simply putting on a show, keeping up appearances so that the others don't suspect that something is wrong.

You cry yourself to sleep all alone in bed, all the while holding onto the hope that he might just show up to remind you that everything is okay.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You’re still staring out the window, watching the droplets trickle down the glass. Lost in the peaceful moment, you barely hear Suguru enter the bedroom, which is why you jump in shock when you suddenly notice a large hand press firmly against the glass by your side.

“It’s pouring, huh?”

His voice, smooth like velvet and soft like storm clouds sent a tremor of desire in your belly. You steadied the cup in your hand, sensing your body trapped between the window and your boyfriend who was now standing prominently right behind you.

“Yeah,” you whisper quietly, your chest rising and falling with anticipation.

You watch him tap his index finger against the glass, your gaze falling to the bracelet on his wrist. It was the other gift that you gave him on his birthday, and he hasn’t taken it off since. The rain patters outside, the white noise your safety barrier against the awkward tension, but you can feel it brewing behind your spine as you steady your breathing.

“Where did you stay last night?” you ask with a mousy voice, hoping that your tone wasn’t coming across as accusatory but simply concerned for wanting to check in on Suguru’s whereabouts.

“Yuki’s room, we were up late talking…” he responds gently, a hint of amusement in his voice but not one that was cruel. “She told me I could sleep on her pull out only after admitting that I’m acting like a little bitch…”

Your mouth naturally ticked into a smile at his playful tone, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip with relief from the casual delivery.

He huffs out a small laugh, "in case you're wondering, I just so happen to agree with her."

“It’s not just you,” you acknowledge, finding the courage to slowly spin on your heel so you can face him. “I started all of this…”

“Yeah, but you’ve been trying to fix it and I’ve been difficult about it…”

Your body crumples when your eyes met his, the power of his gaze forcing you to press your back against the window to stop yourself from buckling at the knees. His yearning matches yours, and the tension in your shoulders relaxes slightly when you note that he might have actually have been missing you too.

The ease in his expression is a white flag of surrender.

You place your tea cup on the table by your side. “I shouldn’t have let Mei get to me,” you admit, “I was caught off guard, and I took my anger out on you…”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” Suguru adds on, shaking his head in disbelief over his own decision. “I should have been upfront with you about Yuki from the star, I just-” He drops his hand away from the window to find yours, and takes both of them between his fingers. His thumb smooths over your knuckles, his grip firm and protective.

“I just didn’t want to give another reason not to trust me”

Your brows furrow with confusion, and Suguru sighs.

“My family were in a bind financially. Even though I got a full scholarship to univerisity, there still wasn’t enough money to put both Mimi and Nana through school. I've known Yuki since I was sixteen. She told me to spend the summers with her and hooked me up with well paying jobs ,” he explains solemnly, almost like he is ashamed by the situation entirely. “So, that’s what I did. Her mom never stayed during the summer break. And yeah, shit happened between us. We’d get high, fuck around, drink, party…but it was just…a release.  It didn’t mean anything else. I swear…”

“Mei said that you loved her,” you fill in, piecing together parts of your own personal indignation. “I think that’s what really got me. Especially when you didn’t tell me yourself. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the secrecy…”

Suguru scoffs, “Mei says that only because I went back summer after summer. I didn’t let anyone else know the real reason why. They had no fucking clue what was going on with me and my last summer with Yuki is when we decided to stop but I-I fucked it up…”

You could see the strain on Suguru’s face, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly to let him know that he could share whatever he needed to say.

“There was this girl that Yuki liked. I mean, really liked. She wouldn’t shut up about her. She was the reason why we stopped sleeping together. One night while we all went out, I got…carried away. I drank too much, I smoked too much, I wasn’t fucking thinking. I don’t even really remember what happened, but when I woke up the next morning…the girl was in my bed. When Yuki found us, she was…heartbroken. She didn’t speak to me for a year, and…I was devastated because her friendship means everything to me. She was the only person who knew how bad things were, and I returned the favor by…well, being myself, I guess…”

“Suguru, don’t say that…” you blurt out, your hands letting go of his as you eagerly clasp his jaw with equal protection. “I see you with your friends. You’re so loyal, and would give them everything if they asked. For somebody whose always so put together, what you did…is so out of character…”

He winced, his eyes narrowing with humiliation but it only taps into your empathy.

You bring his face closer, press your forehead to his own and notice him flutter his eyes close.

“You rarely talk about how hard it was with your family,” you mumble so close to his lips, keeping the conversation as private as possible even though it’s only the two of you in the room together. “I can’t even imagine the kind of pressure you must have been feeling. If you and Yuki are as close as you say are you, I’m sure she came around because she must have seen it too…”

His hands find your your bare waist. “She was the only one who could see it. Satoru, Shoko…it went over their heads…”

The quiet loops in right then, a rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. The hurt in Suguru's voice was loud and clear. The fact that he's always been there, but is so easily forgotten in the long run.

“I need to know,” Suguru confesses, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I need to know what else it’s going to take to get you to trust me because the odds are stacked up against me, sweetheart. And if I can’t make it happen, then I don’t have a single fucking shot at making us happen…”

The sting of regret burns your cheeks once more, and you extend your arms out to circle around your boyfriend’s neck. You want to kick yourself for making him doubt himself, especially after he working so incredibly hard to earn your favor.

“I swore I would never throw your past in your face. I’m so sorry that I did. You’re not the same guy that the people in your life paint you out to be, and I shouldn’t have let them try to convince me otherwise,”

You seal your apology with a small kiss to the corner of his lip, goosebumps pebbling your skin from Suguru’s thumbs tracing tiny streaks up and down your belly. “For whatever reason we don’t seem to make sense to anyone around us…”

When Suguru finds your eyes, you lose yourself into a dark abyss, sinking back into the depths of his soul.

“Is that how you feel too?” he questions seriously, “that we don’t make sense?”

You shake your head instantly to disregard the claim.

“Being with you is the only thing that I seem to understand, and I think that’s why I’m so scared to let you in,” you admit, the past forty eight hours of desperation formulating the next statement on the tip of your tongue. “I’m falling in love with you, Suguru. And-And I can’t seem to stop it from happening…”

Your breathless at the proclamation, your heart hammering so hard in your chest like it’s ready to burst out and bury itself into Suguru’s instead.

You watch your lover pull back slightly, his brows raise with astonishment.

“In love…” he breathes, like he can't believe the words himself, “with me?”

You nod your head, your hands roaming back to the front of his chest where you can feel his own stammering heart against your palm.

"Yeah, with you."

Suguru withers into your touch, his hand cradling your jaw as he dips in to press his mouth over yours. He parts his tongue to deepen the kiss, the weight of his body pushing yours into the surface, where behind you lightning bolts across the sky and grey clouds envelop you both in a shadowy cocoon.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

You freely unravel, your joy sparking from the tips of your toe as to the top of your head knowing that your lover has chosen not to abandon you, knowing that you both are desperately seeking forgiveness.

You swear to yourself that it’ll never get this far again.

Suguru baptizes you with his kiss; it was a long reminder of your submission, of fully surrendering your feelings towards him. In between he moves your body, away from the glass and across the room, until you're pinned underneath him on the bed. He uses one hand to undo the wrap skirt around your waist, leaving you clad in your bikini to bathe under the light of his love instead.

His index finger loops around the string of your bikini top. He pulls away from the wet kiss, the tip of his nose lightly brushing your own, with the heat pooling in those dark irises enough to singe your skin.

“I’m not done with you,” he confirms, going back to the statement that ate away at you like a parasite. “Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever be…”

A lock of his hair brushes his brow, and you move it aside to kiss the space.

“Even if you were, I’m not willing to let you go that easily,” you counter because you need him to hear it. You need him to understand that you see what he’s put into this relationship and that you are more than willing to return the effort.

He smiles, and it’s devastatingly perfect it makes you want to scream at the heavens for allowing someone to be this beautiful.

“Still think I’m worth the trouble?”

Your fingers trace down the bridge of his nose, your heart gooey and soft in more ways than you can understand.

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you, Sugu.”

His head tilts with curiosity, eyes drooping in contemplation. He doesn’t say it but you can hear him asking “are you sure?”, but his doubt is enough for you to seal the truth with a kiss, and when Suguru returns it, you’re once again dissolving in his affection.

Your limbs tangle into one another, your bodies pressed so close that you can feel every hard muscle. The bed sheet rumples, is lifted away from the corners as it gathers messily. Suguru’s hand glides up your torso, over the swell of your breasts, and he hooks his fingers around your throat to tilt your neck to the side and allowing him the access to kiss the column.

You thoughtfully sigh, your eyes fluttering close at the sensation of him sucking on your delicate flesh. He leaves a trail in his wake, and you shiver when his hot breath fans your ear.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions in a hush tone, his voice dipping down an octave and sprinkled with desire.

You nod your head.

“Can I go down on you?”

Your body seizes, every single cell on fire. There’s a catch in your throat, and your thighs clench together nervously at the suggestion.

You tilt your head back to face him, your noses and lips bumping in the process. “I-I can do it for you-”

He interrupts you by shaking his head, his mouth carefully kissing your cupid’s bow. “You’ve gone down on me three times already…”

You can feel yourself soaking through your bottoms. A mixture of pleasure and shame heating your cheeks.

“But...what if-what if you don’t like it? I read somewhere that not all guys do...”

Suguru scoffs, baring his teeth as he gives you a full grin. He prods the tips of his nose onto yours, wiggling it teasingly from side to side.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he confesses before adding, “I promise you, I’ll like it”

Your heart is beating so fast you can’t think, but your body speaks another language as your thighs naturally spread a little wider to invite him in.

“Okay, yeah-” you consent, “yeah, you can…”

He smirks, his hands tracing to the strings of your bottoms. You lift your hips, watching him shimmy the fabric down your legs. He stuffs the material in his back pocket, his palms spreading your inner thighs apart.

You sit yourself up on your forearms to study your boyfriend with intrigue.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty…” he sighs, his attention focused on the triangle between your legs, and your belly flutters at the direct compliment.

He doesn’t move for a second, his hands adding the slightest bit of pressure on the meat of your thighs. He licks his lips and breathes out once more, taking just a second to compose himself.

“It’ll only feel good, no pain,” he informs, “but if it’s too much for you, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

Your hips relax further into the mattress, his assurance easing some of your apprehension. Your boyfriend knows how sensitive you are at this point, but you nod your in head in acknowledgement while gratefully appreciating that he regards you with such consideration.

He kisses up the apex of your thigh, carefully avoiding your sex to find a path to you hips. His tongue is sof and warm, tasting every part of your skin as it travels across your lower belly and further down your pubis. You gasp at the sensation of his breath so close to your cunt, your calf twitching when he finally places a gentle kiss on your lips.

And another kiss.

And another kiss.

And a fourth until your toes curl and he finally flattens his tongue along the slit.

“Oh,” you coo, the sensation so delicate and delicious. Suguru drags his love between your folds, up and down, and side to decide, his mouth circling around each lip as he sucks on them in between returning to glide his tongue around.

Your legs clasp around his neck, your heels resting comfortably on his back. The sound of Suguru sucking and licking up your pussy reverberates along with the storm outside. He reaches one arm to find your hand, and you intertwine your fingers to hold him tightly. His other hand slithers up your torso, and slips underneath your bikini top. He pushes the fabric above your breast, his thumb and index finger finding your tender nipple which he massages steadily as his uses his mouth to pleasure you.

The sensation builds, filters throughout your body in waves that roll over and over again. You squeak when he sucks on your clit, your heels pressing into his back but the weight of his body holds you in place to keep you from wandering away.

Your brows furrow, little tremors shaking your collar bones and your belly. “Suguru,” you whine sweetly, a moan following after when he pinches your nipple and nibbles on your clit. He lets go of your hand, his touch traveling down to your legs. He spreads your pussy, giving himself more access to bury his soft tongue deeper, further, to taste more of your nectar as it dribbles down his chest like he’s biting into fruit.

He groans into your cunt.

He grazes his tongue over your weeping hole, and your body thrashes with anguish and rapture. Your eyes spark in white, glittering like the lightning as it bursts and recedes into the ceiling above you. The band in your core is a tight spring that finally unfurls quickly and quite suddenly, your orgasm unfolding throughout your stuttering body.

“Oh, god…” you cry out, your back arching as Suguru keeps his mouth over your cunt, his hand holding you down by your lower body.

You gasp, panting heavily trying to cope with the aftermath. You think that Suguru might stop, but instead you feel him paint kisses all over your sex, rolling your nipple between his finger and moving to suck on your throbbing clit.

“Sugu?” you call out, your spine shuddering.

“Hmm?” he answers, his tongue massaging across the bud.

“You’re still…” you whimper, “you’re still going?”

He releases you with a pop, blowing air over the swollen bud before smiling into another kiss.

“You have no idea how long I can keep going”

Suguru only manages to keep his word by delivering another orgasm with his mouth buried against your cunt. You had tears in your eyes when you came, panting out “no more” with desperation because you couldn’t handle the detachment you were feeling in your own skin.

It feels so fucking good, but all too much at the same time.

Suguru doesn’t push. He won’t test his boundaries right now. Not when you’re just a vulnerable kitten in his eyes. No, the stamina will require time and patience, and for you to get used to him in the bedroom as well.

His disappointments sits between his brows when he pulls away, his hand smoothing over the curve of your pelvis as he kisses your hip and lower belly. He crawls over you like a panther, his shoulder blades rising with each calculative moment. You can smell yourself against his lips, savor your own arousal when he dips in for a kiss.

“Taste like heaven, baby girl,” he mumbles, his balmy words running over your skin like hot oil. “I could eat you out all night…”

He traces the column of your neck with his lips, and grins into your skin. You’re too shy to say anything, and he knows it. He presses his mouth against your neck, pecking over the marks that he’s imprinted.

Your hands fumble to reach for his jeans, your body desperate to do something for him too but Suguru grabs your wrists and pins them to your side before standing upright and undoing his jeans himself.

“Relax,” he insists.

Your eyes fall to his large hands undoing the button, and then unzipping the front of his pants. His grey boxers have a noticeable wet spot, and your pupils dilate when he pulls his dick out for you to see.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He pumps his cock a few times, sighing heavily as his thumb runs over the slit. To your surprise he shifts his position, and adjusts himself until he’s perfectly aligned with you.

He taps the fat, mushroom head over your clit. “You just open up for me, don’t you?” he whispers deviously, “Let’s practice…”

He slides his dick back and forth over your slit, supports his movements by holding both your knees as he grinds his length against your cunt.

“See how far I’ll stretch you out?” he mumbles, eyes hazy with hunger. “See how deep I’ll go?”

He slides his hands up and down your thighs, rocking back and forth and using you for friction. Soft grunts and moans escape him, and in between he halts for only a second when your quivering hand finds his length. His hips stutter when you start to lightly jack him off, your thumb teasing over the head.

Your eyes fall close, imagine the burn of him spreading you apart, of him making love to your body as you mold into his frame. To feel him in all his glory, for your bodies to become.

The image is raw, vulnerable, and so, so perfect.

There is nobody else you would rather give yourself too.

Suguru is the one.

“I can’t wait,” you beg dreamily, “Need you inside me, I can’t wait-”

His grip on you tightens out of surprise upon hearing your words, and he suddenly thrusts harshly as he curses out a broken “fuck”. Ribbons of white spurt out of him, painting your belly and tainting parts of your chest.

The both of you freeze as you look down, caught off guard by what just happened.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

Suguru cleaned you up using a wet towel to wipe his cum off your belly and chest. You discarded your bikini top afterwards while he removed his jeans, with the two of you then choosing to snuggle up against one another under the sheet.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Suguru confesses, finally breaking the silence. There was a slight blush tinting his cheek bones, and you giggle as you cradle his face in your palm and trace the shade of red.

“You’re usually so in control,” you playfully remark, and Suguru simply rolls his eyes.

“Not with you, I’m not,” he admits, his arm clenching around your waist as he closes the gap of space to tuck you into his chest.

You breathe in his scent, nuzzling your nose into the fabric of his tee.

"I'm glad we're okay now."

"I am too"

You curl your fingers around his shirt. “On your birthday, and just now…we could’ve…just gone all the way. You could’ve just-”

“Not here,” Suguru states seriously, the intensity in his voice prompting you to tilt your chin up and meet his stare. He plays with your ear, traces the shell thoughtfully before gently tugging on your lobe.

The butterflies flutter once again, your irises tinting in pink. You lean forward to kiss the sharp angle of his jaw.

“What was it like for you? Your first time?”

Suguru sighs, and purses his lips as he contemplates the memory. “Yuki was good to me, and it was nice,” he admits, but you’re entranced with the way he holds your gaze. “I sure as hell wasn’t as nervous as I am now…”

“Is that why you keep holding back?” you question innocently, apropping yourself on your elbow to rest your head on your hand. The bed sheet falling and exposing your chest.

Suguru’s eyes fall, his touch tracing the slope to outline the curve of your breast. “Do you want your first time to happen after a petty argument?”

You pout your lips with amusement. “Does it matter?”

“You’re not the only one who might be in love, sweetheart,” he responds, his words greeting the shining sun peeking through the clouds. “Of course it matters.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ✧. ┊ ⋆ ★

tags: @sellenite @kiwibao @allofffmypeaches @sugurussbby @kunigamisbaby @pandoraium @brownskinnedgirll

my works are available on tumblr and ao3 - any fics reposted on other platforms or other Tumblr blogs have been plagiarized. do not share my works on social media (tiktok etc.) © peachsayshi 

[hiphop-rap-and-basketball]

rookie year • chapter 15

a lamelo ball fanfic by hiphop-rap-and-basketball

Word Count: 5,099

A/N: UMMM HOLY F***. I have so much to say. But y’all probably just want to get to reading so go ahead and come back to this if you’d like. Let me tell y’all I was so scared I would never finish this. The roller coaster that I’ve been through throughout these past couple weeks since I last posted is insane. 

Couple things.

1. Honestly not my favorite chapter, but it’s a good start on what is to come for the second half of the story. Idk maybe I don’t give myself enough credit lol but here we are 😩

2. I don’t want to spoil it but I’ve used two reader suggestions in the story, you’ll see 😊😊

enjoy 😊

•••

December 14th

The plane rumbled below you as you were buckled in with Jordyn beside you. As it took off, you felt the feeling of your stomach drop as if it was left on the ground below the plane. As there was less and less turbulence, the plane ride slowly smoothed out and you were soon at 35,000 feet above the ground.

“I mean- I’ve been to a lot of places but shockingly haven’t been to Miami yet,” Jordyn smiled as she looked out the plane window.

“That’s surprising.. it feels like you’ve been everywhere,” you replied.

“True… everywhere outside of the U.S I guess,” she chuckled. “I think this should be fun.”

“Me too… but I always hear those stories about Miami making or breaking your girl groups friendship… I hope that doesn’t happen to us.”

“It’s just the two of us and we are very much mature and not crazy,” Jordyn laughed. “It’ll be okay.”

You watched as the flight attendants began making their way up the rows now. You anxiously looked out the window, feeling excited to arrive already. Although it was just a 2 hour flight, there was places to see. You were ready to make the best out of the 4 days you would be there.

“Do you think they’ll take us on a vacation with them someday?” You asked Jordyn out of curiosity, remembering the conversation you had with Melo wondering if the two of them ever talked about doing the same.

“Shit, I don’t know but that’ll be the day I’ll probably let Miles put a baby in me,” she replied.

You pursed your lips at her in response, raising your eyebrows.

“Tell me you wouldn’t let Melo do the same?” She scuffed.

“Guess it depends on where we’re at,” you laughed.

“You would make cute babies… you and Melo.”

“Stop,” you laughed. “Maybe in 5 or 10 years.”

“Shit, maybe now. Secure that bag sis.”

You glared at her before chuckling and she shrugged, drinking the juice the flight attendant just handed to her. For the remainder of the flight you peered out the window as you would soon be landing. The grass was greener. And the ocean was soon within view.

After you got off the plane and got your luggage, you found your shuttle bus and we’re on your way to your hotel. You looked out your window admiring the beautiful tropical and urban feel that Miami has. The tall city buildings were within view with the ocean in the distance it was a unique site unlike any city you have been to before.

“The Palms Hotel and Spa,” Jordyn read the paper out loud while dragging her suitcase along with her. “Well God bless these boys and their wallets.”

You arrived by night time and had the next four full days to enjoy. The two of you excitedly settled into the resort hotel room. As you put your stuff down you decided to pull out your phone and text Melo.

You: we made it!!🥳

Melo🥰🥰🥰: that’s good baby have fun ☺️ I’m happy for you.

“Sooo what should we do first?” Jordyn asked.

“There’s so much.. I don’t know where to start,” you replied.

“I’m starving, I say we get lunch then go to the beach,” she stated.

“That sounds perfect,” you replied.

•••

After the two of you found the hotel restaurant and ate, you changed and got ready for the beach. It was just a short walk as the hotel was only steps away from the shore. As you walked there you saw the pool and all the people who were sunbathing. You relaxed in your chairs after layering in sunscreen. The sun was strong and it was the perfect day with perfect weather.

You looked over at Jordyn who was just as relaxed as you. There were a couple people out in the water in the distance. You closed your eyes for a second, embracing the moment.

“Jordyn… when we stopped talking as much were you more mad about anyone in our group in particular?” You asked her, peering through your sunglasses to look at her as she adjusted herself in the lounge chair beside you.

“Not really mad I guess more sad… I missed hanging with all of you but we were well out of high school and it just made sense. I learned that high school friendships are really just most convenient to have because you see each other everyday,” she shrugged.

“Was me being with Tristan ever the reason for you guys?” You mumbled, looking into the ocean water in the distance now.

“I mean- yeah we were all kind of upset because you didn’t make as much time for us as you used to but I get it Y/N.. I mean. For Jaz, I think it was more out of jealousy. She had never had a boyfriend…”

“And I didn’t think I ever was bragging about it in a way?” You defended. “I talked about him more to you than her or Bria…”

“Right. And Bria… Bria honestly didn’t seem to care about having anything to do with us once she got into Duke,” Jordyn laughed.

“Yeah, I know her smart self wanted to stay somewhat close to home even though she got her acceptance letters from Yale, Columbia, Princeton..”

“I know, she was always so into school I remember that. Good for her, she deserves what she always wanted,” Jordyn smiled.

“I miss them though… a lot. I miss when we were tight. We thought we were the shit too,” you laughed.

“No because you’re not wrong… we had some haters back in our day,” Jordyn laughed. “Our little clique was so cute.”

“It’s funny how none of that matters now but I love that. Life outside of high school feels so much more meaningful.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda cringe thinking about being there now…. I’m so glad we’re done,” Jordyn sighed.

“Me too.”

“I’d like to think they only wanted what was best for each of us to have… I don’t think there was beef, just a heavy fall out,” Jordyn replied, taking a sip out of her water bottle.

“Would you ever reach back out to them?” You asked her.

“Ehh, depends. I’ve thought about it… but right now it’s more like watching them from afar, congratulating them on their success, just being happy for them,” she nodded and you smiled at her for being so level-headed.

“I just feel so stupid I let a toxic relationship take over my life. Like he would get weird when I would try to make plans with you guys? That’s so wrong.. forreal.”

“It is! But you learned your lesson Y/N don’t beat yourself up about it…. Let’s talk about better things… the fact that we’re here right now, under the sun. By the ocean.”

“Agreed, I’m sorry. Didn’t want to put a damper on things with that…”

“Don’t apologize babe,” Jordyn cooed and you smiled sweetly at her.

“I’m so in love with it here,” you sighed, feeling the sun warming up your skin.

“Yeah, we’re just missing our boys…”

You sat in silence for a while, embracing the moment.

“I wonder if we posted that we’re here together…

“That the girls would comment or message us? Me too…”

“I don’t wanna stir anything up but-“

“It won’t,” she said quickly. They shouldn’t even be worried.”

“I remember a while back they said they always wanted to go on a trip, just the 4 of us.”

“Yeah, but that was high school. When we had no jobs and had to ask our parents for McDonald’s money,” Jordyn said and you chuckled.

“Yeah.. true. I miss them sometimes but I think it’s for the best.”

You picked up your phone to check it and found a text from LaMelo.

Melo🥰🥰🥰: you enjoying yourself baby?

You: yes I am ☺️ thank you again, how’s your day?

Melo🥰🥰🥰: it’s going okay. Feeling tired, might nap before the game tonight.

You: good, rest up 😊 you deserve it.

Melo🥰🥰🥰: and so do you, when you come back, I might have another surprise in the works.

You: again?🥺🥺 stoppp.

Melo🥰🥰🥰: yes but, super lowkey.

You: you bless me so much. Please tell me everything I can do for you lmaoo

Melo🥰🥰🥰: keep sucking my dick how you do I’m playing 💀💀 Well Not really 🕺🏾🕺🏾🕺🏾

You: 😂

Okay☺️💁‍♀️say less

Are you serious about another surprise?

Melo🥰🥰🥰 yes but it’s still in the early stages. Don’t worry too much. Have fun my sweet y/n😊

You smiled and your phone before putting it down, Jordyn smirked at you.

“What?” You giggled.

“You’re so in love bitchhhh,” she laughed.

“Shut uppp, I know,” you replied bringing your hands to your face.

“Any drinks for you ladies?”

“Yes please,” you smiled.

“Umm… we’re not 21 yet…” Jordyn told the guy and you glared at her.

“Well Um- I’d hate for it to go to waste..” he replied in a hushed tone. “Plus, this was already paid for by…” he squinted at the paper. “Mr. Bridges.”

You looked and Jordyn and laughed. The two of you grabbed the glasses.

“Thank you,” you both said at the same time before he walked away.

“Mr. Bridges, what a gentleman,” you smirked and Jordyn rolled her eyes.

“Yeah yeah, he’s alright,” she said while flipping her hand.

“Oh now he’s just alright?” You asked.

“Yup,” she laughed.

“Stopp, not you acting like he’s already getting on your nerves,” you laughed. “You know you’re obsessed with his ass.”

“I know… God he’s so fine. He told me he has something planned for me when we come back. I really like how he can be so sweet.”

“That’s so cute Jordyn, enjoy that shit. You’re lucky to have him.”

“I don’t think you realize how lucky you are… like so many girls wish they could be in the spot that you’re in,” she exclaimed and you shrugged.

“That’s a good point but I don’t know- yes I 100% feel lucky, but it feels natural. Like yeah he’s LaMelo Ball but he’s my Melo,” you replied.

“Girl stop I will cry right now… humble ass.”

“And you and Miles?” You asked and she started smiling, shaking her head.

“Not as in love compared to you two,” she sighed.

Your eyes fell as you looked at her.

“What… no. Don’t compare… we’re at two completely different stages. What makes you say that?” You asked her.

“We both very much have feelings for each other, we do. Sometimes I just think it’s too good to be true. I’m just trying to enjoy the moment as best as I can.”

“As you should…” you replied. “But why would it be too good to be true?”

“He’s so sweet, our sex is amazing but… a relationship is the only thing I’m not sure what will come out of this.”

“Is that what you would want?” You asked her.

“I think I’m more sad because I felt like that’s what I would’ve wanted but… who knows. Ahh, maybe I’m just over thinking it.”

“Then try enjoy the moment, love. What’s meant to be will be, I’m sure of it.”

She smiled at you. “You’re right.”

“Plus, they planned this for us, I wonder who’s idea it was,” Jordyn inquired.

“I was thinking that too. They’re so cute it makes me sick,” you chuckled.

“I know, they deserve to be here. I’m sure they’re focused though.”

“Yeah, I bet they are. Where do they play tonight?”

“Cleveland??”

“Oh they’re going to get their asses whooped tonight… bless them,” she replied.

“You hardly have faith in them,” you laughed.

“Well I mean… you know how it goes. They just struggle defensively.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“I love watching them play, they look so fine on the court,” Jordyn sighed.

“I know, Hornets really have the finest players right now, you ever think about that?”

“Hell yeah,” she replied.

“So, what should we do tonight Queen?” You asked her.

“We can go out…. We can go by the water again…”

“Let’s go out… we deserve it.”

•••

The two of you got ready, carefully putting your clothes on your warm skin after showering and laying out in the sun today. Now feeling your best in your outfits, the two of you took an Uber to downtown Miami and began walking around attempting to find the best clubs.

The night air was still warm and the city looked lit up in the dark. You and Jordyn linked each other’s arms to stay together.

When you walked into the club, you looked around. It was filled with a decent amount of people but not too crazy. You got a table with Jordyn as you looked around.

You were offered drinks at the bar and accepted them. Sipping on them slowly, your eyes scanned the sea of unfamiliar people coming and going. You wondered who you would see.

“Well… should we see how many places we can get into before they ID us?”

“Oh shit.. I didn’t even think about that,” you replied. “We’re really walking around here like we’re grown.”

“I don’t think they care.. when you’re pretty and look of age you get anything you want,” she replied.

“So that much be the daily manifestation you tell yourself,” you giggled.

“Works like a charm, how do you think I’ve gotten what I’ve wanted so much,” she shrugged and suddenly everything made sense about her for you.

“I love you bestie,” you replied.

“Ain’t that Melo’s girl?” You heard a voice say. You quickly looked at Jordyn wide-eyed. She read the look of worry on your face.

“Yeah yeah, I think that’s her!” You heard the other voice through the crowd of chatter. You carried on, taking a sip from your glass.

“Ummm. Y/N don’t freak out but… Tyler Herro and Jack Harlow might be talking about you.”

“What??”

“Deadass,” she replied.

“I’m scared, I think we should go,” you whispered to Jordyn.

“What?!” She exclaimed. “Nah, nah, we don’t have to let ‘em ruin the fun. Maybe it’s a good thing!”

“Okay, but I’ve never been recognized before.. what do I do?”

“Just be your chill, normal self, you don’t need to change for nothing. Shitt, they recognized you before you did them?? That’s insane Y/N.”

“I guess you’re right but why does he know me?” You asked. “I’m tryna figure out-“

“Hey mamas,” you heard the voice say and you prayed to God they weren’t talking to you.

“Hello,” you reply slowly before processing what he called you.

“It’s Tyler baby, how you doing?”

“Oh my god-“ Jordyn slipped out and you felt yourself get red from second-hand embarrassment, but you decided to play along. Jack stood beside him, amused as he observed Tyler trying to spit game.

“Tyler who?” You asked and his smile turn to a frown. Jordyn looked at you impressed for a moment, and you crossed your arms, awaiting his response.

“Don’t play with me like that mamas you know who I am,” he stated and you looked at Jordyn trying to hide your sly grin growing but she was already laughing too hard.

“Umm, I don’t know… but it was good talking to you buddy,” you stated before walking away and Jordyn followed after you, giggling to herself.

“No way that dude is that corny,” Jordyn laughed and you joined in. “Not you hitting him with ‘buddy’.”

“Is it bad I’m kinda not surprised? That he’s corny?”

“Not really, he looks goofy as hell,” she responded and you laughed. “Plus he’s from Wisconsin.”

“Should I tell Melo?”

“Definitely,” Jordyn replied. “Stir up that pot baby.”

“Nah nah.. I shouldn’t, it’s not worth it.”

“I think you should. Maybe you’ll get him all riled up and they’ll go hard on Miami next time and Hornets would finally get a dub,” she shrugged.

“Jordyn- oh my God. We must attract NBA players… and Jack Harlow???? Because how would we randomly see Tyler Herro out of everyone else??l

“To be honest because- where’s Drake?”

“I’m saying! ‘Cause what the hell. Doesn’t he have a game to be at or something?”

“Go get your mans-“ Jordyn mumbled and you looked at her confused.

“What-“

“Can I buy you a bottle?” You heard Jack ask Jordyn as they both approached you again. “We want to get y’all a table.”

“Yes, please,” Jordyn replied, melting at the gaze Jack was giving her.

You shot her a look and she calmly smiled at you. She had “go along with it” written all over her face. The four of you got into a table and you studied them carefully.

“So where are y’all from?” Jack asked.

“North Carolina,” Jordyn quickly replied. Very obviously swooning over Jack at this point, you were very much amused at her flirtatious demeanor as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“What’s two fine young women from North Carolina doing out here in Miami?” Jack questioned.

“Just on vacation,” Jordyn replied.

“Without your man?” Tyler asked her before shooting you a look and you quickly bite your tongue.

“He’s actually playing right now,” Jordyn responded quickly.

“Playing who?”

“Cleveland… in Charlotte,” she stated.

“Ahhh so you been running around Charlotte doing the same as this one over here, hmm?” Tyler asked and you felt a bad taste in your mouth.

“Don’t worry about what we doing over there baby, worry about that footwork,” Jordyn replied and Jack chuckled before looking at Tyler.

“I like her,” Jack said while nudging Tyler who was completely unamused at this point, ready to give up on the two of you.

“I have a show tomorrow… you ladies wanna come?” Jack asked The two of you.

“Of course!” Jordyn responded quickly.

The four of you chatted and you soon eased up as the conversation grew light-hearted. It was very obvious Jack and Tyler were walking around here trying to have a good night, and Tyler was simply taking mental notes at how to be as charismatic as Jack.

Jack was clearly flirting with Jordyn and she was eating it up. When you guys parted ways, you started teasing Jordyn as you made your way back to the hotel.

“Girl, stand UP,” you laughed.

“For Jack? No, bitch I’m on my knees… I’m weak.”

You busted out laughing, shaking her shoulders.

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I KNOW… don’t tell Miles,” she laughed, very tipsy off the liquor at this point.

“Oh I am,” you teased.

“Pleaseee don’t,” she begged.

“I’m kidding, come on let’s get you to bed.”

•••

“Well, well, well,” you heard Jordyn say from the bathroom and you looked up at her in the mirror from the bed.

“What?” You asked.

“Look who texted me,” she stated.

“Oh my gosh, who?”

“Hope you’re living it up in Miami. I miss you and y/n,”

“From who?” You pressed.

“Bria… shockingly.”

“Hmm,” is all you say, looking down at your phone for a moment.

“She ain’t text me, so,” you responded.

She smacked her lips before walking out of the bathroom. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It’s fine though.”

She smirked and quickly scrunched her nose before shaking her head and walking off.

“What?” You peered at her.

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Stop I know that look,” you said to her, getting up and walking towards her in the bathroom. You looked down at her make up products scattered on the sink then back up at her.

“I just had a… thought,” you stated deviously.

“Oh lord.. what kind? You have a lot of dangerous ones of those,” you replied and she laughed.

“Not always… can we flex a lil bit that we met Jack?”

“Ugh Jordyn…”

“What? Pleaseee,” she begged. “Our pictures we got last night were too cute.”

“We don’t even flex with our men, you sure you wanna do that?” You ask her with a laugh.

“I think Jaz is a fan of his… kinda wanna see if she’ll say something…”

“I feel like that won’t go as you think it will,” you replied.

“Why? You think she’ll be mad?”

“I don’t know Jordyn, hard to tell. Like I’m kinda happy about Bria reaching out but she didn’t even text me directly but mentioned me in your text…. the past is in the past. Maybe it’s best we leave it there.”

“Ehhh true… ugh what’s the harm in the picture though?”

“Jordyn…”

“Fineee…”

“Good,” you smiled at her. “Have you talked to Miles?”

“Yeah, we’ve been texting, how about you and Melo?”

“Yeah I was probably going to call him in a bit.”

“What do you think he’s up to?”

“Good question… practice maybe?”

You looked down at your phone as it started vibrating as an incoming call was coming from Melo.

“Speaking of,” you smiled before you answered. “Hey Melo.”

“Hey beautiful, how’s your day going so far?”

“Good, we just had breakfast and the food was so fresh.. I love it here. How’s it going for you?”

“You’re so cute baby. And not much, it’s going okay, we lost last night…” he trailed off.

“Ohh, I saw that. I’m so sorry hun, how are you feeling?”

You look up at Jordyn who was waving her hands pressing you to get off the phone, you put him on speaker instead, smirking at her.

“I’m good, it is what it is, just gotta keep going,”

“You’re right. I can’t wait to watch you play again.”

“Y’all got any plans for tonight?”

Jordyn quickly shook her hands in response to his words, hoping you wouldn’t say anything. You glared at her instead.

“Yeah- we’re actually-“

“Heyyyy Jordyn I know you can hear me,” you heard Miles voice say and Jordyn went soft, smiling and blushing while swinging back and fourth.

“Hiiii,” she said back.

“How’d y’all know you we’re on speaker?” You chuckled.

“I have a 6th sense for my lover,” Miles said and you heard Melo laugh.

“Corny ass,” Melo stated before taking the phone back over. “Well I don’t wanna take to much do your time, I’ll text you camera girl.”

“Bye Melo,” you sang.

“Bye,” he chirped before disconnecting the line.

•••

You attended the concert that night at the night club and had fun together. Nothing crazy happened but Jack remembered you two and spotted you in the crowd. You were glad you went, and as much as Jack pressed Jordyn to come back stage afterwards, she decided not to. For the remainder of the days of your vacation, you two talked about all the fun you had and before you knew it, it was time to fly back home.

•••

When you got back, you were in Charlotte before Melo was, so you decided to unpack today before you procrastinated it for weeks. After doing laundry and showering, you anxiously waited for his arrival.

“You’re homeeeee,” you squeaked as Melo pulled you into his arms when he finally arrived.

“My baby girl,” he chuckled as you squeezed your body around his tightly. His warm embrace immediately brought you comfort. “How was your trip?”

“Really fun, thank you so much,” you said as you kissed him a dozen times. “I missed you though.”

“I missed you too,” he smiled. “You smell so good.”

“Thank you, I showered,” you giggled and he planted quick kisses on your neck and tickling you with his facial hair.

“You look fresh and your skin looks beautiful,” he smiled. “You’re glowing.”

“Melo… you’re so sweet,” you said in awe, looking up at him with your hands on his chest.

“I missed you so much,” he says now, voice low as he spoke and pulled you in to plant many kisses on your jawline.

“I wanted to make dinner,” you smiled at him, holding back from melting at his affection in that instant moment.

“Can I help?” He asked.

“I mean of course but- are you sure?” You giggled.

“Of course, I got this,” he said while he began to roll his hoodie sleeves up. “What we bout to make?”

“I was just going to make pasta with chicken, nothing crazy,” you smiled at him.

“Bet,” he replied, already digging in your freezer already for frozen chicken.

“Do you know how to defrost chicken?”

“Yeah, throw that bitch in the microwave,” he stated.

You laughed. “You and microwaves… I’m about to go throw yours out.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he started punching in the numbers on the microwave.

“Now you can grab the pot and get the water boiling,” you nodded.

“How much water?” He asked.

“I fill it about half way and boil that,” you replied. “Add a little salt and butter.”

“Okay,” he replied and you watched him as he filled it up, admiring how cute he looked as he was so focused on doing the task right.

“What does the butter do?”

“Shit… good question. I just always do it.”

“Chef Ramsey would be rolling in his grave at you right now,” he snickered playfully, shaking his head. “Some chef you are.”

“Hey! Shut up, you can’t even say that, he’s not even dead yet,” you replied and he laughed.

You watched him as the water started bubbling and he grew distracted by his phone for a moment.

“Don’t lose focus now,” you told him. “You need to be ready when the chicken is defrosted so you can season it.”

“My bad, I’m focused I promise,” he laughed. “What now?”

“Stir,” you encouraged him, “and add the noodles.”

He did as you told him and you admired how obedient he was without questioning it. His energy and presence in the room was strong and you realized how much you missed him while you were gone. You looked over at him before wrapping your arms around his waist. He took your sudden affection by surprise but quickly gave in as you kissed him softly.

“So I got recognized…” you began and he looked down at you with his head tilted for a moment.

“By who?” He asked.

“We were at a club and I swear on everything I heard someone say “is that Melo’s girl,” you chuckled, shaking your head before continuing.

“You went to the club?”

“I mean, yeah? When in Miami,” you shrugged.

“You not even 21 yet…”

“Guards let us In because we’re pretty, I guess,” you shrugged and Melo furrowed his brows at you.

“Kinda forgot we aren’t even of age… they let us in pretty much everywhere… they also gave us free drinks at the hotel, did you know that would happen?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “That was Miles.”

“You could honestly still get what you wanted anywhere anyway; don’t you think?” You asked him.

He pursed his lips for a moment before responding. “I guess you right yeah. Shit I mean when he called they didn’t give a fuck who we was, they still needed a valid date of birth and ID and all that,” he laughed and you smiled at him.

“Thank you again for that,” you replied.

“Of course baby you don’t even have to thank me,” he smiled. “I’m happy that you had fun.”

“Well I have to thank you… somehow,” you smirked, giving him loving eyes. He quickly straightened his posture before he became too weak at the knees.

“After dinner,” he responded quickly.

“Well anyway, it was Jack and Tyler.”

“Who?” He asked.

“Jack Harlow and Tyler Herro,”

“…. Not that wigga Jack.”

“Melo!” You exclaimed, laughing.

“I mean- shit you know what I mean.”

“To be honest… they were trying too hard.”

“In what way,” he asked, cocking a brow and you smirked.

“They insisted on buying us drinks.”

“Did you let them?” He asked, jaw clenching now and you were tempted to tease him but you didn’t.

“Jordyn did, I didn’t… would it have been a problem if I did?” You asked honestly our of pure curiosity.

“No… I just don’t trust mufuckas… were you safe?”

“Yes, yes of course,” you reassured.

“Good,” he replied, kissing your lips quickly.

“It made me want to go on vacation with you though,” you whispered before looking up and smiling at him.

“We will baby, I promise,” he said before kissing your lips. You pulled away, studying his face for a moment.

“So you gonna tell me about the other surprises?”

“Which one?” He asked with a smirk.

“There’s more than one?”

“Nah- I mean maybe- who knows.”

“Melo!” You exclaimed, feeling slightly frustrated wondering what he could possibly be hiding from you.

“It’s good baby, be patient. I promise I’ll tell you. I like seeing you surprised.”

“Why,” you chuckled. “Do you like to see me all worked up?”

“No, not that. I love the way your eyes scrunch when you smile,” he admitted and you feel the butterflies in your stomach. “And how you pretend you don’t like surprises.”

“I’m not pretending!” You exclaimed but he rolled his eyes and kissed you.

“Yeah yeah,” he chuckled.

“I guess it keeps me on my toes but… ugh I just like to know.”

“Why’s that?” He asked.

“I don’t know, I guess I just like to know what to expect.”

“Okay then start expecting the unexpected,” he retorted.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… like maybe I bought you an island.. or a new vibrator…. Who knows?” he shrugged and you laughed.

“Whatchu know about buying vibrators?” You chuckled. “And islands.”

“I’ll buy you the island and fuck you with the vibrator.”

“Boy what the fuck,” you say before laughing. “That sounds… tempting.”

“Stop,” he laughed. “Speaking of that… do you own one? We need to throw it out.”

You gasped in response. “That’s not your business…. Just don’t look in the top drawer of my dresser,” you joked and and he actually ran to go look.

“There’s nothing,” he yelled.

“Exactly! I was kidding…. Kinda.”

“Where is it?” He asked. ”That is my business.”

“Relaxxxx, I’m joking.”

He smacked his lips at you.

“Although I almost bought one since I wasn’t getting ate out for a long time,” you replied.

“When was this?” He asked.

“When I moved in here,” you stated.

He looked at you wide eyed, “when you was fucking with-? Oh hell nah.”

He picked you up and laid you down on the counter. “I’m going to make sure you feel good every day that you’re with me.”

•••

Pretend it’s hot af in Miami at the time they went to visit lmao.

Suggestions I used 😊 thank y’all again:

I LITERALLY can’t find the other one about asking for a friendship fall out story but that’s one I used too😩

Taglist:

@melosbabymama @ykiminlove @lilah1903 @neighboorhoodwhore @1-800anklebully @baddessbubble

[inkformyblood]

trusting we are all going somewhere

Written for week 1 Fall Weather of the @bobadinweek Fall (In Love) Fest!

Pairing: BobaDin, Din & Grogu & Boba Note: no content warnings, Selkie!Boba

“Would you like to go with us?” The question escapes Din before he can stop it, spilling out of him and hanging in the crisp autumn air.

It floods the space between them; Boba sitting in his small front garden, the chair pressed back against the war of competing weeds and tangled blackberry bushes along the far fence as a net stretches out across the entirety of the bare dirt; and Din standing beyond the small wall, his weight tilted to one side as Grogu hangs onto his hand, one mitten dangling from the string threaded through his coat.

Boba doesn’t freeze -- his hands tangled in the heavy cords of the fishing net-- but it is a near thing, a momentary hitch before instinct takes over and he continues to weave over the hole torn through the strands. The faint hissing rasp of the cord is barely audible over the sound of Din’s heartbeat echoing in his ears and the cold fear crawling up his spine, burning against the heat blooming in his cheeks.

He shifts, adjusting his grip on Grogu’s hand as the boy steps closer to the wall, his gaze fixing on the dark patches of moss that cling to the weathered stone before snapping up to Boba. Din watches him as well, unable to tear his gaze away despite his embarrassment.

Boba’s hands never falter on the net, catching the broken flyaway strands and drawing them back together as rhythmically as a heartbeat. It creates a strange sort of music as it mixes with the distant rush of the wind through the trees and the ever-present whisper of the waves on the shore.

Grogu waves his free hand, the oversized sleeve flying free once more and it flaps along with his movement. Boba pauses, leaning forwards to meet the child’s gaze and something in Din’s chest catches at the sight, his world narrowing to dark tattoos swelling up over weathered shoulders.

“Buh!” The sound catches in the child’s throat, twisting into something deeper and harsher, similar enough to a rough cough and Din frowns, stretching down to press the back of his hand to his brow, nudging up the bright green hat in the process. Grogu frowns up at him, his face scrunched into a circle before he breaks into a grin, tugging his hat back into place.

Boba’s laugh is unexpected, shattering the harsh quiet. It rumbles through him, crashing and cresting like a wave but made hoarse from disuse. Despite it and despite the wide grin revealing two dimples, unexpected yet treasured, there was something mourful about him, a longing for something Din didn’t dare name.

“Where were you thinking of going?��� His gaze, dark and turbulent, catches and locks on Din’s and his grin widens. It reminds him of a predator, focused and dangerous, and Din grins back. It may have been several months since he took a mission but he hadn’t lost his edge or the thrill that burnt just beneath his skin.

“Just along the cliffside path through the woods.” Din adjusts his grip on Grogu’s hand, feeling the mitten start to work free, the child’s fingers wiggling inside the soft pale green fabric. Grogu babbles, reaching up to pull his hat from his head only to try and pull it back on in the same moment.

Boba tilts his chin towards Grogu, continuing with a low rumble in his voice like waves against a rocky shore. “The kid makes a good point. Mind waiting while I grab a jumper?”

“Of course.”

Boba hums, pulling himself upright with a bitten off groan, one hand instinctively pressing against his lower back as he tugs the net to one side with the other. There’s an unknowing sway to his movements and Din is unexpectedly reminded of a sailing ship, the deck pitching and rolling beneath his feet. The thought passes as Boba steps inside his house, catching the door to keep it from swinging wide and disappears from sight.

“You are a mystery,” Din sighs to Grogu, bending down to coax his hand back inside the mitten.

The look that passes over Grogu’s face only lasts for a second like a cloud skittering over the face of the moon. It is ancient, unknowable and lingers in the dark corners of his eyes as Din lightly presses his forehead to Grogu’s, forcing his breathing to remain calm and even. He couldn’t grieve for things that had not happened yet and yet he couldn’t keep the dark thoughts from surfacing in his mind.

Grogu would leave him, eventually. He knew this.

But for now, Din kisses his son gently on his forehead and tastes the ever-present salt on his skin, feels the warmth radiating from him and the rasp of the slightly sticky kiss Grogu returns to his jaw.

“Ready?”

Din starts and looks up at Boba, and up, and up, and up.

Boba wasn’t a tall man but at that moment he stood tall enough to rearrange the sky. His grin is wide, baring his teeth in satisfaction, and he seems more settled than he had in months. Din was used to seeing him in dark clothes, loose and shapeless, but his jumper -- the fabric a deep green and expertly made, the raised pattern twisting and twining in on itself in a hypnotic swirl -- clung to every curve and every swell.

He was breathtaking.

“Y-yeah.”

Din’s cheeks burn even more, a flame that threatens to consume him utterly as Boba stretches out a hand, calloused and rough, to pull him to his feet, but he accepts it.

For a moment, they are standing close enough that Din can see the flecks of gold in Boba’s eyes and smell the salt and seaweed scent that clung to him like a second skin. He is warm and solid and Din doesn’t want to step away from this rare moment of trust. Reality breaks on them as Grogu tugs on Din’s coat, holding up his hand expectantly.

“Sorry,” Din starts to apologise but Boba cuts him off as he had every time before.

“No need. He’s a good kid. Shall we?”

Boba starts to walk in his characteristic swaying stride but pauses as Grogu calls out to him. He turns on his heel, his gaze travelling from Grogu’s face, expectant and waiting, to his outstretched hand before it flickers to Din. Longing lingers there, deep enough to wound and scar and Din aches to reach out and take his hand and try to comfort him through that pain. But, all his training and all his knowledge meant nothing in the face of this battle.

“We’re glad you’re coming with us,” he says instead as Boba, moving slowly and cautious, a slight tremor in his fingers, takes Grogu’s hand.

“Thank you.” Boba’s voice is rough, scraping like gravel and Din smiles, picking up on the undercurrent Boba couldn’t voice, lightly swinging Grogu’s arm to make the child laugh, the sound rippling through Boba and he sees the man relax, just enough.

The trees clung to the early colours of autumn, the air was cool and clear, and Din knew he had made the right choice in coming here, no matter what happened.

[meadowmood]

Vinphala’s Storm

This is the third short story upload I will be doing for all of the work I did for my senior show centering around my own stories and characters. If you would like to view the entire exhibition now, click this link! It includes a number of short stories, illustrations, and character bios for your viewing pleasure!

Full Story below the cut!

Abalone strolled through the city, the bright sun overhead warming his wool. As usual he had a small gaggle of admirer’s trailing conspicuously behind him as well as a good amount of ogling bystanders. He didn’t mind, he knew nature spirits were a rare sight on this side of the world. Not to mention he enjoyed the attention...

He was heading toward the city center, as he did with every city he traveled to. This time, however, was special, as it was his first time returning to the Sun Pole since his youth. He had hatched near this city with his other half, Vinphala. Vinphala… The thought of his sibling made him stop. He had been thinking of her more the closer he had gotten to his old home. A small part of him wished he would see her, but the rest of him shuddered at the thought. The last time he had seen Vinphala she had almost blasted him off the face of Thera. He wasn’t sure he could escape with his life a second time. A sudden tug on his skirt brought him back to reality. He turned and was greeted with the concerned expression of an incredibly small old woman standing behind him. “Excuse me, young man, but I would make your way to a shelter. A storm’s coming.” Abalone looked up and saw the crowds had all vanished while he had been deep in thought. “Thank you, kind elder, but I will be okay.” The woman nodded in understanding and made her way hastily into a nearby building. A single drop of rain fell onto Abalone’s nose and he stared up at the sky. The storm was approaching faster than he thought. The sky blackened within seconds, the warm glow of the sun quickly extinguished by the smothering darkness of the oncoming storm. Rain began to fall more heavily as Abalone quickly hastened his pace to find a dry place to rest. He looked around for a place that wouldn’t mind a drenched stranger barging in looking for shelter. He soon reached the town square and spied a small bakery that would suffice. As he opened the door, crouching slightly to fit himself under the doorframe, he got a good look at the inside. Low tables and pillow seats were spread neatly across the floor, the ceiling glittering with enchanted lanterns that gave off an inviting glow. To his right was a huge display, filled to the brim with a variety of sweet and savory baked goods. 

Before he could admire anything else he realized that he was not the only one who had come into the warm bakery seeking comfort from the rain. A sea of people had turned to look at him upon his entrance, wide eyed and waiting for him to do something. His chance to address them was interrupted by a plump young woman bursting through the kitchen door behind the counter, carrying several trays full of assorted drinks and snacks. She skillfully maneuvered around the many tables and patrons delivering each one their desired treat. Bringing their attention away from Abalone one by one as she did so. As the woman placed the last item on the table she finally looked up and saw Abalone standing in the doorway. “My, you’re a big one aye? Bet you can fit a good bit in that stomach of yours!” She chuckled heartily before making her way behind the counter again. She placed the trays down and looked back up at him “Can I get anything for you? Something warm to perk ya up?” She peered down at the puddle of water that was accruing on the floor, “A towel, perhaps?” Abalone looked down and saw the puddle “Oh right, sorry!” He quickly opened the door and with a swift hand motion drew the water into the air and plopped it outside. A soft excited murmur was heard from the patrons as they admired the small flourish of magic he had just performed. He turned back to the woman sheepishly, trying not to draw attention to himself. “I apologize for my intrusion, good shop owner. I would like to take shelter from the rain here.” The woman laughed warmly. “No need to be so formal about it! Just sit yerself down and buy yerself something nice, eh?” Abalone smiled and nodded, and with a few coins acquired himself a cream bun, a few hot pepper rosettes, and a cup of tea. He sat down at a nearby table and gratefully began to eat his meal. He was only a few bites into the cream bun when a voice piped up from the table next to him. “Excuse me! Are you a nature spirit?” Abalone turned to see a small boy looking up at him with wonder in his eyes. He smiled and placed his food back down on the table. “I just might be, who is asking?” “Me! I mean my name is Heffra!” the child squeaked, his confidence seeming to drain after his first greeting. “Heffra you’re not bothering the poor creature are you?” a tall woman sitting beside him said. “Quite the opposite!” Abalone said smiling, “and to answer your question, dear Heffra, yes I am. I actually hatched somewhere near here a very long time ago.” “Wooow!” exclaimed the boy, his eyes sparkling. “Then you must be really powerful then! I bet you could a bunch of stuff with your magic huh? like...like...” the boy seemed to grow more excited thinking of all of the things he imagined Abalone could do, “like lift a boulder or, or fly across a whole forest or even…” he paused and stared out the large glass window of the bakery. “Or maybe even stop the storm!” Abalone heart sunk slightly at the boy’s excitement. He could do none of those things. He had already shown the extent of his magical ability at the door of the shop. No, when it came to magic, Vinphala was the powerful one. “I am deeply sorry young Heffra, but I am no powerful spirit,” he stared out the window, “and as for stopping storms, only my other half Vinphala could do that.” “Hrmph, then I wish they were here,” grumbled the boy’s mother. “We’ve been under siege by the rain for almost a month now. Each time it gets worse and worse. If it doesn’t stop soon the whole town is going to be waterlogged! Could use someone to give us a break.” “That sounds awful,” Abalone said, his smile disappearing. “Does the city have no protective enchantments to help ease the issue?” “We do,” the woman said with a sigh, “except they must not be very good because the storms keep on coming anyway. It has the local academy in a frenzy trying to figure out why.” Before Abalone could reply a resounding crack of thunder rang out. It’s rumbling cacophony shaking the building and causing the lanterns to flicker momentarily. The boy yelped and clung to his mother. “It’s alright,” she soothed, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s only a noise. We are safe inside.” The boy seemed calmed by this and was just lifting his head from his mother’s shirt when a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the entire room, followed by another deafening round of thunder falling from the sky. Abalone was shaken to his core by the sound of it. The relentless downpour, the crashing of lightning, and the raucous anger of the thunder... it all seemed so familiar to him. Vinphala. Vinphala was causing the storm, he knew it. He could feel the relentless fury in every raindrop. If his sibling wasn’t the cause of this something else just as powerful was, and he needed to stop it. He stood up and headed to the front of the shop, halfway out the door before he heard a call of protest. “Wait! You’ll get hurt!” He turned to see Heffra standing by the table,looking teary eyed and anxious. His mother looked irritated at his sudden outburst, and motioned for him to sit down. “I may not be powerful, but I have a strong heart.” Abalone said as calmly as he could. “Not even a storm can take that from me.” Abalone pushed down his swelling fear to smile at the boy. “I will be okay, and so will you,” he soothed. Heffra nodded and sat down like he understood. With that Abalone disappeared out the door and was immediately pounded by the sheer force of the rain coming down. He looked up and was able to make out a swirling black cloud in the distance. It appeared to be the center of the storm, and most certainly where he would find Vinphala. Abalone took a deep breath, attempting to calm his building fear, and ran straight for the mass of seething black clouds. The path toward his sibling led him to an expansive beach, and without a second thought, he rushed straight into the shallow water. “Vinphala!” he shouted, his weak voice barely audible above the thunder. “Vinphala, I know it’s you! Please talk to me!” Abalone struggled to remain upright in the turbulent water, turning around wildly for any sign of his other half. “P-please!” Abalone yelled before he felt himself slip off the sandbar beneath him, the dark water swallowing him up in its angry depths. In a panic he clawed at the foaming waves, trying to manipulate them to free him from the churning deep, but it was to no avail. Suddenly, something gripped the wool on the back of his neck, pulling him out of the water’s deadly current with amazing strength. Abalone gasped for breath, and before he could tell what was happening he was dragged toward the shore, barely keeping his head above water as he was pulled forward. With surprising force he was thrown against the flat rocks of the shoreline. Abalone gripped the wet rocks with all of his strength as he coughed up the ocean water that had made its way into his throat. “I can’t believe you,” a sharp, seething voice rang out amongst the storm. Abalone’s vision slowly cleared as he blinked away raindrops, regaining some composure as he turned his head toward the familiar voice. He froze as recognition of his rescuer’s identity shot through him like lightning, and immediately wished he had been left to fend for his life in the ocean’s raging waves. “20 years it’s been,” Vinphala hissed, “20 YEARS since you’ve last shown your face, and the first thing you have me do is pull your soft sniveling hide from drowning in shallow water?” She almost screeched as a blinding bolt of lightning exploded down into the waves behind her, causing Abalone to flinch. “V-Vinphala...” Abalone stammered out, caught between pure terror and astonishment, “...you saved me.” Vinphala sneered at him, baring her long sharp fangs “As it seems to be my birthright to do so.” The comment ripped into Abalone’s chest and forced him to turn away from her piercing gaze. “I never asked you to take care of me,” Abalone said shakily. He gathered his strength and lifted his head again, thankful the rain hid his tears. “That choice was yours Vinphala, not mine.” He lifted himself into a kneeling position, looking up to face her. “I know you’re hurting. Why don’t you just say it? Please, Vinphala, tell me what you're feeling. Calm the storm before people get hurt.” Vinphala’s eyes widened as rage crept into the crinkles of her brow. “Oh? Is that all I need to do? Let little Abalone know my every vice and everything will be okay is that it?” The storm surged again, the wind whipped his ears around his face and a deafening crack of thunder drowned out all other noise. “Vinphala, I said you need to stop!” Abalone cried out to her, shielding himself from the power of the pouring rain. “Why should I?” She screamed over the roaring thunder “Why shouldn’t everyone know exactly how I feel?” “The storm is too strong, you’re going to hurt someone!” he shouted. “Please!” “Good!” Vinphala cried, showing no signs of remorse “Maybe then someone can understand me!” “I understand you!” Abalone pleaded, desperation seeping into the crevices of his voice. “Why don’t you talk to me? I can help you!” Vinphala shook her head in rage and cast another bolt of lightning into the sea. “Of COURSE you would say that!” She wailed, her voice cracking slightly. “You always think you can read my mind, that you know what's best for me!” she screamed. Her body seethed with anger as electricity coursed around her. “You think you can fix me, is that it? Make sure I’m not such a problem? Not such a burden on the shoulders of the world? Well guess what Abalone!” she yelled, streaks of lightning crashing into the shallow sea, causing the foaming waves to explode violently around them “YOU. CAN’T. I will ALWAYS be like this, I will NEVER change and YOU can’t say ANYTHING about it!” “Vinphala, wait!” Abalone called out, but it was too late. With a brilliant flash of light, she was gone, leaving only destruction in her wake. The storm dissipated almost as quickly as it came, the last few drops of rain falling morosely into the calming sea. Abalone sat on the rocky shore, soaked to his bones, staring out into the horizon. He saw nothing, only wisps of clouds running with their tails tucked from the rays of light now making their way to the ground as the sky cleared. She was gone. A mixture of rain and drops of tears fell down Abalone’s face and onto the wet rocks below him. He had failed once again to make Vinphala see reason. The realization seeped into him like a chilling wind, the sudden cold forcing him to wrap his arms around himself as he shivered in sorrow. His mind faded into the years of his youth, when he and Vinphala were inseparable. He ached to return to those days. He had been born weak, his fragile body almost fading away with how little magic coursed through his veins. If it weren’t for Vinphala’s fierce protection, he may never have lived past his first weeks of life. He never meant for them to fade away in the years that followed, he had no clue back then that there would come a time when they weren’t always together. He was torn from his thoughts by the sounds of people calling from the beach. The patrons from the bakery had followed him out after the storm ended and were waving him down. He tried to stand but fell back down onto the rocks, his body weak and shaking from the encounter. Heffra’s mother rushed out into the shallow water, her dress ballooning up as she came to help him. “By Liy’s light, what are you doing all the way out here? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” she said, with a sternness only a parent could muster. She grabbed his arm and hoisted him up with the help of the bakery owner, and with their combined effort he made it out of the water and onto the beach, where another patron took a thick cloak off their shoulders and wrapped it around him. “T-thank you, all of you,” Abalone stammered out, scanning the crowd, “Are any of you hurt?” “Us? what about you?” the baker replied incredulously. “Just what were ya thinkin’, comin’ out all the way to the beach during a storm like that?” Abalone got to his feet and steadied himself, careful to get up slowly this time. “I saw her,” he said quietly. “My other half...” he looked down, ashamed. “...she was the cause of the storms.” “A spirit then?” the baker said, surprised. “That explains the power of ‘em, I ‘spose.” Before anyone else could say anything a small boy pushed his way to the front of the crowd “Heffra!” the mother gasped. “I told you to stay inside the bakery!” The boy ignored her and ran up to Abalone’s feet, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Did you really see her?” the boy asked excitedly, bouncing up and down. “You saw another spirit?” Abalone looked down at him and sighed trying his best to conceal his sadness, letting a small smile spread across his face at the boy's innocent wonder. “Yes I did, young Heffra, though I am sad to say not for very long. She is gone now, and she has taken the storm with her.” “So you really did do it! You stopped the storm! I knew you were powerful! I knew it!” Heffra shouted, flapping his arms with joy at his revelation. Abalone looked down and chuckled. “I am sorry little one, but it was not anything within my power that ended the storm.” Abalone turned and stared back out into the endless sea, almost no trace of the storm’s anger left in it’s peaceful waters. “For that, I will have to wait for another chance...a day I will make sure comes very, very soon.”

[vegetacide]

Sleepless

Veg●notable: So... this popped into my head.. wrote it.. and here we are.

Any mistakes are purely my own...

Characters: Kayo/Virgil, Jeff Tracy

General warning: Just a little gropey

Word count: 4541 words

Time: Middle of the night. Crack past when regular people would be sleeping

Location: Lounge balcony, Island

Summary: Someone is having a hard time sleeping.. stuff happens. Embarrassment ensues.

Enjoy!

o0o

Virgil sat upright with a jolt, the feeling of foreboding and dread chasing him into the land of wakefulness. Breath heaving, heart pounding a rapid staccato in his chest, he scrambled up his rumpled bed until his back found the headboard and kicked his legs free of the tangle of linens.

Croaking out a command, the shadowy remnants of the nightmare which had been plaguing his slumber vanished as the soft, pre-programmed lighting illuminated the quiet space of his room. Reassuring him that he wasn’t actually hanging from a mountain a mere finger’s width away from a trapped climber..

Cursing softly to himself, he racked a hand through his sleep tousled hair and swung his legs over the side of the bed resisting the urge to shiver as the temperature controlled air breezed over his sweat soaked back.

Slouching he braced his elbows on his knees and rubbed the exhausted fog from his eyes. The dream had felt so real, the blistering cold, the blinding wind, the burning chill in his chest as he desperately tried to stretch those last few centimetres.

He’d been so very close yet not close enough. The climber’s pleading voice, hoarse from screaming grew quiet and an odd calm of realization had settled over the indistinguishable features of their face. A dark truth had been registered, that salvation was not in the cards for them.

In that instant Virgil had recognized the climber’s sudden intent and throwing all caution to the bitter mountain wind, he’d lunged. His thighs coiling then thrusting him out and away from the purchase of the ledge he’d been dangling from and just as he started to free fall, the climber let go…

He stared down at his hand and frowned at the slight tremble in them. Clenching them a few times and dispelling the dull phantom ache he felt from the situation that had been conjured from the depths of his own subconscious.

Catching the dim, blue numerals of the digital display on his night stand, Virgil exhaled wearily and with a grunt of effort pushed to his feet. A couple hours of sleep was better than no sleep at all but after three straight days of this, the lack of a full eight was starting to wear on him.

His brothers always razzed on him for his late morning sleeping habits and it looked like it was going to be no different once the sun decided to crest the horizon. Little did they know though that his penchant for daytime slumber was more out of a dire need than laziness on his part.

He’d suffered the insomniatic spurts for a large part of his adult life. Some due to traversing multiple time zones on a regular and completely throwing off his natural circadian rhythm and other from an over-active mind that just ceased to shut off at a reasonable time.

He’d tried various sleep aids over the years, from the medicinal variety to the drinkable kind with a percentage stamped on the side of the bottle but neither of them were long-term solutions. Both had side effects that were detrimental to his chosen career path. Hard to concentrate on a rescue in a drug induced fog or function effectively with a hangover. He knew that from experiences and both were definitely something he didn’t want to try or risk again with lives on the line.

So letting the brotherly teasing just roll off him was his preferred dénouement. As for the twilight hours from dusk till dawn? He filled those lonely hours with copious midnight sessions in the island gym, or with twilight maintenance work on his ‘Bird. The latter had been done so frequently that he could reassemble Two’s VTOL thruster assembly blindfolded, one hand tied behind his back and with a set of nail clippers as his only tool…. On the rare occasion when the exhaustion wasn’t too intolerable, he’d even break out his art supplies. Usually though his creative muse would be out cold in a corner somewhere so his productivity on those nights was severely lacking and whatever he managed to produce was subpar at best.

No one ever saw those works of so-called “art”. They were tucked away in the far back corner of his art studio saved from the trash for some reason he was unable to wrap his head around despite the fact that he loathed them for their complete ineptitude.

Crap results or not, it served its purpose of distracting his mind from whatever it was that was preventing him from dreamland and he found that on more than one occasion he managed to just stumble off to bed again before the rest of the house had roused to start their day. Hiding the fact that sleep had been evading him and effectively staving off both the worry wart that was Scott and matriarchal commandeering presence of his Grandmother.

Though these days, he had the added pressure of dealing with the wandering presence of his father as well. Who seemed to ghost around the house at night as much as he did. Virgil suspected that his father was still adjusting to being Earth side and except for one instance had managed to avoid him.

Jeff Tracy’s sleep patterns were erratic at best but that was to be expected after his survival ordeal in the Oort cloud. Virgil knew from a medical standpoint that given time his father would eventually adjust but in the meantime, he would have to play a one sided version of cat and mouse with the man just so he didn’t set his father’s somewhat questionable mental stability for a spin. He had enough on his plate to deal with already, he didn’t need the added weight of his second oldest son’s problems on top of it.

Giving his head a shake at the direction of his thoughts, Virgil made his way over to his closet. If he let his mind drift in that way for too long he would find himself down a rabbit hole he would have a hard time finding his way out of. At the moment he didn’t have the mental stamina or the wherewithal for it either.

Reaching blindly into the dark depths of his closet Virgil rummaged around until his fingers came across the soft cotton of a well loved pair of track pants. Slipping the loose folds of worn fabric over his legs he contemplated his options for the rest of the night and just couldn’t drum up the energy to make a decision.

Catching a glimpse at his bed out of the corner of his eye he knew that staying in his room wasn’t on the table. Turning, Virgil made his way quietly on bare feet out the door and towards the stairs. Maybe something good would be on late night TV but knowing his luck as of late it was unlikely. At this point though it was better than coming up with an alternative. He’d already gone over Two with a fine toothed comb and his muscles were still recuperating from the previous nights work out. Last thing he wanted to do was to end up with a work out related injury. He was already pushing safety parameters on call outs as it was and a sprain or strain was going to have him benched for sure

---

Ten minutes of channel surfing was all it took before Virgil hit the fed up phase of his evening. Abso-fucking nothing on TV. Nothing at least that could keep his attention. Tossing the remote somewhere to his left, he shoved up to his feet, grabbed his glass off the low table and headed out on to the balcony to watch the light show of a storm that was passing by off-shore.

Leaning his elbow on the railing overlooking the pool he watched the play of light as it rumbled across the dense cloud cover. By the looks of it, the storm was shaping up to be a big one but all their scans told them it would keep well to the South of their island home. Even as far out to sea as it was, the winds were starting to pick up and Virgil could hear the storm surge as it crashed against the shoals and rocky outcroppings far below the family villa.

Losing himself to the slashes of lightning that danced across the heavens in a vibrant display of scorching white streaks buffeting, turbulent bruise coloured clouds that in an instant succumb to the abysmal void of inky black. He could feel in his bones that beep bass rumbles that followed. Thrumming through the Earth, cement and rebar of his home up though his feet and the oppressiveness of its ferocity weighed on him. Even all these many miles away the might of Mother Nature could be felt. He just prayed that no one was stupid enough to be out in that mess.

“Fingers crossed.”

*-*-*

It hadn’t been her intention to startle him. Far from it and it wasn’t like she was trying to be quiet about her approach. Virgil had been just so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed her standing beside him contemplating the stark contrast of light and shadows across the expanse of his tense back and heavy shoulders.

“Shit… Kayo, you scared the crap out of me.” He heaved a sigh, settling his weight against the railing again.

“Sorry, didn’t mean too but I was just agreeing with what you said.”

Puzzled eyes turned towards her and a thick brow arched in question to her statement.

Mirroring his pose, she gave his shoulder a nudge with her own before pointing a finger off towards the churning storm. “That no one is stupid enough to be out in that.” She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he processed her words, noting the stiffness to his posture, the way the darkness hung like a bruise under his tired eyes and the paler of his skin. Even in the limited lighting he looked more ghost-like than human.

He gave a grunt of understanding before turning back to watch the storm and lifting his tumbler to the distant clouds in a salute. “Here’s to hoping.” The last dregs in the glass disappeared in short order as he tossed it back. The whiff of whiskey wafting her way as he set the empty vessel on the railing between them.

“I thought you were on rota tomorrow?” She questioned as she eyed the glass and wondered how much had been consumed.

“I am.” His eyes followed hers and he gave a shrug but no further explanation and Kayo didn’t press.

She’d basically grown up with the man and his brothers so she trusted his judgement impeccably but there was still something bothering her about the whole scene. Something felt off..

“You okay?” She was never one to bat around the bushes and her gut was very seldom wrong especially where it concerned the man beside her. The man she’d stopped seeing as a sibling sometime ago and started seeing as something else entirely. It was something that started to blossom one unforgettable snowy night the previous November in New York but neither of them had had the time to tend to since…. Other more pressing things had gotten in the way and there was now another Tracy planet side and returned from the dead as a result.

Maybe now…

He gave a shrug and he shifted to look at her, the wind blowing in off the coast tousling his unstyled hair in a roguish way across his brow. “I’m fine, nothing to worry about.”

He was holding something back, she could tell. Something eerie lurked in his tired walnut gazed. Shifting across the usual vivid depths like the smoldering haze after a wildfire. Dampening what was usually brilliant and clear.

She stepped towards him, her hand reaching to cup his check. The unshaved scruff rough against the palm of her hand. “I’m a good listener if you need an ear.”

He turned into her embrace, brushed his lips over the soft flesh of her hand in silent thanks and smiled at her. “Kinda a prerequisite in your line of work.”

Her own lips quirked up. “Growing up in a house full of testosterone it was a necessity or I would never have been able to sneak out at night with five over protective brothers.”

Virgil chuckled, some of the murkiness leaving his eyes. “Point taken.”

She let her hand drop and a flash of something like disappointed flickered across his brow.

His breath fanned across her face as he sighed, the light fragrance of whiskey warming her. “So…” she said, crossing her arms and emitting the air of stubbornness she was known for. “Spill already.”

A heavy shoulder lifted, the light cast through the open lounge doors catching on the planes of thick muscle with the movement and she couldn’t resist brushing a hand over the warm skin.

“Rough night, that’s all.”

“Can’t sleep again?’

He looked surprised at her question and she had her answer without him saying a word.

“Virgil, I specialize in security. I am well aware of your night time routine.Two has never run better and the gym equipment requires a break from you before you actually break it. Besides,” She added admiring the way his biceps bunched as he rested his hands on his hips, “You get any bigger you won’t be able to fit down Two’s chute”

A soft curse slipped past his lips. It was obvious that he’d thought that his attempts to avoid his family had been successful.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t or wont say anything to Scott.” Her fingers gave his shoulder a light squeeze of reassurance. “If it gets worse I know you’ll do the right thing and say something yourself. You’re dealing with it right now in your own way and you have a right to your own privacy and council. Just, if you wanna talk...” she stalled out on her offering, shifting her gaze away from his to take in the night around them as heat started to colour her cheeks.

A moment later his fingers danced across her brow and she sucked in a breath as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His strong musician’s fingers lingered until she met his eyes again.

He was looking down at her, so close now that the bare skin of his chest brushed hers with every breath. He seemed to be sturdier now, more so then when she’d discovered him looking despondently at the storm. An assuredness that had been missing before seemed to have returned to the strong line of his jaw and the tension she’d seen in his posture was gone. There was a shift in the air around him, almost anticipatory in nature and she felt a thrill run down her spine.

Her pulse kicked at the heat imbued in his eyes as he gently angled her face towards his own. She stammered, not able to finish off what she had been about to say. “..uh..talk about....”

“Thank you, Tin’ He whispered, the oaky tang of alcohol ghosting across her lips and effectively stopping her uncharacteristic fumbling.

It took but a nanosecond for her brain to go from a midair stall out to ignition. Her inner monologue screamed, demanding that she act. Only the slightest of movements would be needed to bridge the distance between them. An easy contraction of muscles and she could push up on her toes, silencing all other words with the meeting of their lips. Without further hesitation, she did just that.

Months of denied contact and frustration sprang to the fore, blazing bright and intoxicating. Before either of them were aware, they were wrapped around each other. His strong body flush to her own, his hand tangled in her hair that had somehow between one second and the next come undone from its customary binding.

“God..” she panted, barely recognizing her own voice. His lips skimming across her flesh, trailing like fire down her neck to that spot that made her world flip on its axis. Light headed she scraped her nails down his back. Seeking purchase as her knees grew weak.

“I’ve missed you…”

He emitted a groan of approval. The sound heady, potent and oh so primal. It was almost her undoing and the burn within her flared.

Desperate for more and caring little about where they were standing, she slipped her hand between them...

The sudden intrusion of a throat clearing had them springing apart so fast that she almost lost her footing and she gracelessly plopped down on the nearest lounger. A feeble attempt on her part to save face. The instantaneous lack of Virgil’s body heat made her shiver and it sobered her mind faster than any cold shower could.

One of the overhead lights flicked on and the silhouetted figure at the balcony door came into sharp focus. A short striped housecoat was sashed neatly at a trim waist and slippered feet scuffed lightly over the flooring as the head of the house stepped out onto the balcony. In one hand he swirled a glass of water. Condensation dribbling over faintly scared hands as the ice cubes tinkled with the rhythmic movement.

“Tanusha,” He greeted, one proud eyebrow arched high over suspicious eyes as he scanned over the breathless pair. “Son.”

*-*-*

Fuck… that was all that came to mind as Virgil gaped at his father though he knew better than to voice the expletive.

Reaching out a hand, he grasped at the railing and wished his own long forgotten glass wasn’t so empty.

How in hell was he going to explain this?

He peered over to Kayo hoping that she could provide something, anything that might salvage the situation. The stunned deer-caught-in-the-headlights look he found though didn't bode well.

His first attempt to speak caught in his throat and he cleared it self consciously before risking a quick glance down to assess his person. Thankfully everything was where it should be and mercifully, PG...well...kind of.

“...Dad…It’s late, what are you doing up?”

Jeff blinked at his son then held up his glass, the answer obvious. “Hydrating, as I can see you have been doing too.”

“Oh..ya that… just a night cap.”

“And you’re on call in the morning?” It was said more like a statement than a question and Virgil did his best to hide the wince at the hidden reprimand.

His father turned to Kayo, effectively dismissing the subject from further conversation as he was well aware that his message had been received loud and clear.

Virgil did a fast and stealthy re-adjustment of his pants and groaned internally. Chances were by morning he would find that his shift had been rescheduled and he was going to need to dodge the Scott Tracy hairy eyeball all day. An unwritten rule that all the younger brothers were well aware of; never mess with the Commander’s schedules. It was some old hang up from his military days that he’d never grown out of to the detriment of the rest of the island. As unpredictable as Scott could be when on mission, at home you could figure out the time of day by what the eldest was doing. From his morning jog right down to when he grabbed the daily stock reports and headed to the bathroom.

It was kind of freaky actually. The man’s bowels were perfectly timed, no matter the food that went in...even if it was Grandma’s cooking.

Giving the back of his neck a rub, Virgil surmised he spent far too much time with his brother, far, far too much time.

Well with the exception of playing a tantalizing round of ‘avoid the angry, overly concerned big brother’… at least he could attempt to catch up on some sleep.

Ding! Bright side!...Crap.

“Tanusha, didn’t know you were back on the island. How was the flight in?”

“Uh.. hell of a cross wind on approach, ” Kayo finally piped up, returning once more to her feet. Her security agent persona nailed firmly back into place. “But nothing Shadow couldn’t handle.”

“Hmm, glad to hear it. You’ll have to let me take her for a spin sometime.” His father said all conversationally as if that fact that his second eldest and basically his adoptive daughter hadn’t just been about to get it on right there on the balcony like a pair of randy teenagers.

Jeff tipped his chin in the direction of the storm. “Nice light show.”

Virgil caught a hint of a grin on his father’s face that was not quite hidden behind a careful sip of water. The man knew exactly what he was doing and he was loving every minute of it.

“Uhhh… ya. It is.” Well, this was definitely awkward and his father was sadistic. Now would be a fantastic time for John to call down with a situation.. Somewhere.. .Anywhere.. For anything.. Like a cat stuck in a tree in say like Alaska...right now…

Kayo nodded her head in agreement and mouthed an apology in Virgil’s direction when Jeff turned to take in the view. “Well, it’s been lovely talking to you both but duty call.” She glanced down at her wrist as if to check the time but really it was to avoid the pleading look on Virgil’s face. “Canada’s about to come online and they owe me a report on last week’s protocol updates.”

Virgil’s shoulders slumped..

“Good night, Tanusha.”

“Good night, Jeff.” And she slinked off into the house, holding her head high despite that fact that there was still a healthy glow of red riding her cheeks.

Jeff shifted his attention back to Virgil. “So..you two were just,” He actually stopped mid sentence to emphasize his point with finger quotation. “Talking ?”

Exhausted beyond measure, embarrassed within an inch of his life and, if he was going to be truthful to himself; horny as hell…Yup, this evening was summing up to be a real shit show.

Crossing and uncrossing his arms, Virgil really wasn’t sure what to do with himself. It wasn’t like he was a teenager anymore. He was a grown man, of course he had relationships of a romantic nature.. He wasn’t a monk, by any stretch of the imagination but this was his father and old habits apparently did die hard.

Despite the length of time his father had been absent and the fact the family dynamic in the house was still adjusting to the patriarch’s return, Virgil felt like he’d somehow regressed back to a sixteen year old again. Caught making out with his highschool girlfriend on the couch and trying to make up excuses for the state of their undress.

The smile on his father’s face told him though that the man was well aware of his son’s floundering.

“Relax, son.” A humorous snort followed and he wandered over to stand beside him, leaning casually on the railing. “ I believe we had that conversation about the birds and the bees when you were eleven. You’re a grown man, I’m not going to fault you for looking for a bit of peace and comfort. ”

Virgil studied the ground, his mind drifting to the woman that had so captured his attention. He’d been skirting around how he felt in regards to her for months and he still had doubts if it was right of him to feel the way he did. To revise their adoptive familial relationship to something more intimate after everything they had been though. He often wondered if he was in some way taking advantage… as stupid as that might sound to others he seriously questioned his own motives.

It had been Kayo that had taken the first giant leap though. He shouldn’t have been surprised with her intuition. She’d seen right through him. Tore down all his defenses to expose what he so stupidly thought was hidden from her. Everything all out into the open for them both to see and after that..right into a penthouse suite at the Park Hyatt.

One thing about Kayo, she certainly didn’t waste time when the chips were down. She knew what she wanted and she went for it.

“So, you and our Tin-tin, huh?” Jeff chuckled and Virgil brought his attention back to his father.. “I never would have suspected but seeing you two together just now.. Well, I can definitely say that the pair of you are a good match. Complementary to each other actually.”

Despite his own embarrassment, Virgil started to relax. Relieve that his father seemed fine with what he had inadvertently walked in on. “Its, uh.. still very new.”

“Really?” Jeff questioned, his brows shooting up in mild surprise. “With that chemistry? Reminds me of when your Mom and I were together. After the first few months there wasn’t a lot that could distract us from…”

“Dad!” Virgil all but squeaked. He didn’t think it was possible to fit more blood into his head at that moment but apparently he could. Well at least the blood had stopped pooling somewhere else....thank God..

Jeff raised a placating hand and his words carried a laugh in them. “Okay, okay. I will spare you the details. The point being, the pair of you look good together and I must admit even with me still trying to get the lay of the land around here… you two fit and if it makes the pair of you happy, then I wholeheartedly approve.”

Virgil was speechless a moment. It had been the last thing he expected. Approval so easily given from a man he remembered as being rather commanding and if he was being truthful to himself, a bit intimidating.

His father’s time in space had changed him, changed them all in ways they didn't fully understand.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, his calloused fingers tightening for a brief moment before he turned to watch the storm.

They sat a moment in companionable silence. Father and son, just taking in the light show together, getting reacquainted in a quiet moment while the rest of the house slept on.

It didn’t last long but it was enough to start mending the old tired fences that lay scattered between them. Not broken from misuse but worn from the years of absence. “You should try and get some sleep, son. You look tired and the sun will be up soon enough.”

Virgil inhaled deeply, tasting the distant rain and the linger hint of jasmine on his tongue. He nodded as he pushed away from the railing, rolling his shoulders to loosen up some of the knots that lingered there. “I should.” He agreed but paused before heading inside once more. “Thanks, Dad. Enjoy the storm."

Jeff tipped his glass slightly in salute. "I always did love a good show."

Virgil paused a moment, not sure how to take that but quickly decided he was way too tired to figure it out. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle and stepped back into the house.

o0o

FIN

[claihn]

Radiant

There was no music, but the world around her provided all she needed to fall into a tranquil state of mind. It had always been this way with the ocean, despite her mixed feelings towards the water. Yet like two destined lovers, she couldn’t help but return to break her promises again and to soothe her turbulent mind, it repaid her missteps with aching memories to guide her motions. It was almost like a break up song that one listened and found appreciation despite the heartache. Except in the small cove she’d found near her former dusty apothecary, the only breaking song was that of the waves against the rocks.

Mana felt the sand absorb some of her momentum with every pivoted twist, but she’d learned to adapt and channeled that breaking pace up through her arms. Her hands extended out as if to pet the gentle breeze while she closed her eyes, feeling her breath, her heartbeat and the hidden world around her. Each inhaled breath, each calm pulse or rolling rumble helped shed her layers away. It only lasted for a rare few minutes.

It was a beautiful sadness today that danced in her mind. The weight of her soul that fought and struggled against the tides of those who’d tried to drown her and never succeeded. Mana enjoyed faster dances of all variety, but today was a personal dance and she’d always favored purposeful, elegant flowing motions over all others. She reached out towards the ocean, pushing up with her bare foot while her other leg extended and she stretched herself as far as she could muster before tucking in her leg. Her long, blue and white hair mirrored her motions when she twirled with her tail curling around herself before she scampered a few steps away, escaping the water’s reach as it tickled up the sand.

She didn’t want to think of anyone before. The ones who’d played pretend with her and then not given a second thought when their number was done. Mana inhaled a breath and arched her back, stretching her arms towards the ground. She didn’t want to think of her own past mistakes or lament the chains so tightly bound around her psyche that she often found herself wondering if she’d ever be free of her past misgivings. Mana pranced ahead a few feet, leaping into the air once before landing and twisting her body easily from years of practiced flexibility. She pushed away the thoughts of storms and blood, of demons and lightning, of guns and silks and shattered glass.

Mana took a series of quick steps and flipped herself once, then landed softly upon wet sand. Her legs parted to each side and she slid to the ground, finding little discomfort from the motion. When she finally came to a seated rest, a wave foamed up the shore and swept over her legs. The brisk sensation had goosebumps rise along her skin and her tail coiled instinctively around her waist, but the Raen cracked a smile to herself and dipped her head.

It only lasted for a rare few minutes, but the masks were away.

And she was radiant.

[[ Writing Challenge #19 | Radiant ]]

[sentryandco]

The Oaths We Swear

It still hurt.

Batuhan’s hand rose to his chest, clutching at his leather tunic as he closed the door to the storage room behind him. He did not want to make a show of his discomfort to those he left inside, they seemed uncertain of him as it was. And he of them.

But it was not entirely born out of distrust. Despite his lack of recollection, a part of him knew that he had forgotten them. Somehow. That single memory that returned to him, of his word given to the hyur, it was enough. Batu knew they had met before. They had spoken long before this sun. And somehow, he had felt enough faith in the man whose face was now estranged to him, to swear on his life that he would protect the lost daughter.

How had he forgotten?

One hand suddenly shot out to the wooden wall of the hallway, his palm slamming awkwardly on the grained surface, skidding over it as his weak fingers found no purchase, his feet sliding as the ship titled violently against another wave. The far door leading to the deck was flung open, as two more figures appeared within its frame, they too struggling to find balance amidst the gale that pelted them with rain and wind. Lightening and thunder crackled behind them as shouts of sailors outside echoed in the distance.

“Batuhan, wasn’t it?” A female voice called out to him, her tone lacking any gentility. It was the Jhungid udgan. Something about her felt cold and distant, her very visage mirroring the darkness, the white dots upon her ebony brow like stars in the night. Only there were no peace to be found in her reflection, the six white circles upon her head starkly punctuated the lightless complexion of the shaman even more. Her black gaze, with its eerie white limbal rings, was fixed on him, her black robes settling upon her thin form as the warrior next to him forced the door closed behind them, shutting out the storm.

“Toragana,” Batu answered back dully. He regarded her, silently thankful that the throbbing in his chest made it easy to greet her with what would seem a flat, half-lidded look. The escaped wife had suspected that this udgan was why he couldn’t remember her. And while he was not studied in it, Batu knew of the various arts that the udgan were capable of, calling upon the gifts granted to them by the gods. He doubted not that Toragana would be capable of such strange feats. But as Batu lowered his hand purposefully away from his torso, the rune beneath felt as if it was freshly carved into him only minutes ago. And it gave him doubt.

“Checking on the prisoners?” Toragana asked as she carefully began to make her way down the narrow hallway. The wooden beams of the ship creaked all around them, boldly fighting against the turbulent sea. Another Xaela, one armed with a longbow across his back, was accompanying her, though he slowed as they neared Batuhan, his eyes narrowing on the Kharlu. When their eyes locked on each other, there was more than just wariness there. Batuhan sensed rancor behind the male’s gaze, the other’s lips just barely holding back a snarl. And yet there were no reasons that Batu could recall that warranted such animosity. Had they met before? It was Jhungid passing a Kharlu, it was very possible that they had crossed each other on another battlefield. But here, on this ship, they were supposed to be working together to bring an end to that yearly warfare.

Batuhan kept his eyes on the archer as they both passed by, just answering Toragana with a nod. When they slowed by the door to the storage room, Batu tensed and stilled, waiting. Both the hyur and the escaped wife within, seemed weakened from a recent bout. If the two Jhungid meant them ill, it was unlikely that those inside could put up much of a fight.

“I had to put the male down,” Batu grumbled, placing his hand on the door as if the matter within was already settled. “The escaped wife is looking over his wounds.” He flicked his eyes at Toragana. “Will you be performing the rite of passage?”

If the udgan was considering reaching for the door, the question stopped her in her tracks. The white rings of her dark eyes flared for a moment, before she narrowed a look upon Batuhan. The archer behind her stiffened as well at the mention of the fallen warlord. “It will have to wait until we can lay Kiratai upon the soil of his homeland," Toragana snapped. "His spirit will not rest easy until he knows the embrace of Nhaama.” There was a bitter cut to the edge of the udgan’s words. Even though she had immediately declared the untimely death of their warlord -- at the hands of a foreigner no less -- the will of the gods, it was clear to Batu that all of the Jhungid entourage seemed shaken by it. He would be too, had he witnessed Arasen’s death in the same manner, just fulms away from him, a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

Toragana and Batuhan exchanged one more icy look before the shaman turned sharply and began to make her way down the corridor, undoubtedly to where they had taken the body of their former leader. The archer followed, although his eyes were slow to leave Batuhan.

A long exhale plumed from Batuhan’s nostrils as he pushed off from the wall, making his way to the opposite end of the corridor. He had only bought the hyur and the escaped wife a little bit of respite, but he hoped that they could make some use of it, before Toragana decided what her next play would be. Would she make a show of strength by making the prisoners suffer? No, as the escaped wife reminded them all when the hyur faced off against all of them at the pier, the Jhungid needed to keep the Confederate alive, as a way to make the lost daughter cooperate.

A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as Batuhan stalked toward the last door on the hallway. There were too many questions and he had no answers to any of them. Was the escaped wife Arasen’s ally? Were they using the Confederate to force the lost daughter into fulfilling the prophecy? Was she not supposed to be a willing participant? Who shot Kiratai dead? Were there more enemies waiting for them on shore? Why could he not remember? Why was the rune, the one that was burned into him years ago when he accepted his lifelong bond with his ward, the mark that was supposed to symbolize their fealty and trust in each other, why did it ache in his chest everytime he questioned all these shadows in his path? Why was Arasen’s words, imploring him to forget everything since they parted ways, and only to remember his duty, why was that the last thing that rang crystal clear in his mind?

No. That wasn’t the only absolute. There was another unerring memory. The oath he swore to the hyur. The lost daughter’s guardian. Batuhan swore that he would protect her. It was his own words, and Batuhan was not wont to break his promises.

As he reached for the door leading to the captain’s quarters, he paused, looking to the slow movement of his weakened hands. Injuries he did not recall and yet his hands moved instinctively as if he had grown used to their slower speed. He had been this way for moons. He had become accustomed to the afflictions that he could no longer remember receiving. This void that existed in his mind began to burn like kindling, sparked by simmering frustration. He wanted answers. He pushed the door open, expecting to find the one person who he knew would have them within.

Batuhan paused as his eyes widened. Where he had expected to see the petite form of the lost daughter tucked in bed, he saw her now unconscious, her hands bound in rope. More, her robe had been pulled down and off her torso, exposing her entire back. Arasen was kneeling over behind her, his fingers tracing Nabi's bared skin, when lightning flashed through the portholes in the walls. They lent the amber within the younger Xaela’s eyes a cold but eerily glow in the dark, as his gaze snapped to the door.

“What… are you doing?!”

[elliemarchetti]

Somewhere to Start

A cute Krumione fic nobody asked for. Probably a series’ first chapter. 

Masterlist (where you can find Slytherin!Hermione, Dramione and Fremione)

If you find any grammar mistake I’m sorry, you can point it out in DM or if you want to stay anon drop the correction in my ask box. 

Words count: 1531

"Do you hear something?" Ron asked, breaking the silence. A loud and strangely mysterious sound came toward them from the darkness, a rumble and a stifled suction.

“The lake!” screamed Lee Jordan, pointing at its center, where a strange and seething turbulence sent waves crashing on the muddy banks. Something that looked like a long pole began to slowly emerge from the heart of the vortex and Ron explained to her that it was a mast, as if she hadn’t already known.

Slow and majestic, the ship rose from the water, shining in the moonlight. It looked strangely skeletal; a wreck whose dim lights in the hatches looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great lapping, the ship completely emerged, floating on the rough water, and began to slide towards the shore. A few moments later, they heard the thud of an anchor thrown into a shallow seabed, and shortly afterwards the shapes of the passengers, who wore frowned furs that made them all look the same, went up the meadows that separated them from the castle.

"Dumbledore!" yelled warmly the tall, thin, gray-haired man who led them. "How are you, my dear friend?"

"Very well, thank you, Professor Karkaroff." Dumbledore answered.

"Dear, old Hogwarts." he said, looking up at the castle, and smiling; his teeth were yellowish and Hermione noticed that the smile didn’t extend to the eyes, which had remained cold and penetrating. She didn’t like that man, and for as long as he would be there, she would’ve avoided him and his students like the plague.

At the end of the welcome banquet, Karkaroff summoned them to go back to the ship. As soon as Viktor got up, the headmaster approached him with a paternal gesture, asking him how he felt and whether he had eaten enough. Viktor barely had time to answer, that immediately another question followed the previous one, and mentally thanked Poliakoff for having entered the conversation and thus attracted the principal's attention.

They reached the door with the other students, and a younger, thin, pale-skinned boy with dishevelled black hair stopped to give them way. The principal thanked him, barely giving him a glance, and then stopped and turned back to the boy. Viktor also looked at him curiously, until Poliakoff nudged Darina and pointed openly at the scar on his forehead.

“Yes, he’s Harry Potter.” a corpulent man with a wooden leg and a glass eye said in a growling voice. Karkaroff's face lost colour but a girl who was waiting beside Potter had attracted Viktor’s attention: she had curly brown hair she probably had absentmindedly tried to comb and penetrating hazel eyes that seemed to want to set fire to the whole Durmstrang delegation. Before he could ask her what led her to detest them so much, the headmaster took them away, heading quickly toward the entrance; he calmed down only when they finally reached the quiet of the boat.

"What do you think happened between Karkaroff and that man?" Andrei asked him, when he was sure no one could hear them. He was his assistant and didn’t wanted to be downgraded in that situation; he wanted to have a career in the M.o.M., and if the news had arrived at Crouch or Bagman, he wouldn’t have made a good impression. Viktor shrugged, but he had a doubt: the glass-eyed man could only be Mad-Eye Moody, the one who had sent the principal to Azkaban.

The following day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to go visit Hagrid. They found him particularly strange, with combed hair and even wearing a suit that he had to define beautiful. Everything was explained when it was time to return to the castle for the announcement of the Tournament’s champions; the giant half ignored them to go up the hill with the principal of Beauxbatons. Just like for the Durmstrang delegation, Hermione couldn’t stand the French. At least it was what she kept repeating herself, despite enthusiastically pointing out to her friends that even the Nordic delegation was going up from the lake towards the castle. Ron also looked enthusiastic, and followed Krum with his gaze, but the latter didn’t even look around as he reached the main door and crossed it before them. Just like Ron, Hermione was also partly disappointed.

When they entered, the Great Hall was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; now it stood in front of Dumbledore's place at the teachers' table.

"I hope it's Angelina." said Fred, who seemed to have taken well the disappointment of not being able to stand as a candidate, while Harry, Ron and Hermione took their seats.

“Me too!” exclaimed Hermione, nearly breathless. “We’ll discover it soon!”

Instead the banquet seemed to go on longer than usual. Perhaps because it was the second in two days, perhaps because of the impatience, perhaps because she knew who was to prepare them, perhaps because she felt strangely observed, but Hermione didn’t enjoy the extraordinary dishes as she would’ve done under normal circumstances.

When the gold plates finally returned as immaculate as they originally were, the noise in the Hall grew brusquely, only to disappear almost instantly when Dumbledore stood up. At his side, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime seemed tense and anxious like everyone else. Hermione followed the Durmstrang headmaster’s gaze, who was inevitably resting on Krum. He was his favourite, it was obvious, but he was also the whole delegation’s and of many Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione also found herself cheering for him when Dumbledore took the first piece of parchment in his hands, announcing that the name of the Durmstrang champion would be written on it. When he finally said his name, she too rejoiced. For a moment, she even seemed to meet his gaze, before the boy moved awkwardly from Slytherin's table to Dumbledore and disappeared past the door into the next room.

He was in the boat’s living room when Andrei entered, the expression of someone who has a funny story to tell.

"You cannot even imagine what's just happened in the castle's basement. Two fourth-year students challenged each other, but neither hit the other, and both hit an opponent's friend."

Poliakoff laughed, and Darina asked who the two idiots were.

"One is a Slytherin, they say his father is a Death Eater, and the other was Harry Potter himself! I cannot believe that such an incompetent has defeated You-Know-Who” replied Andrei.

“And now he’s also a Tournament’s champion!” exclaimed Poliakoff disdainfully.

"And their friends? Did they get hurt?" asked Darina. She was a good and selfless girl, but when she got angry, she was scary.

Andrei shook his head: "Nothing important, but they say that Potter's friend, the one you find pretty," he specified, turning to Viktor, "have grown huge teeth."

Viktor didn’t waited a second longer and snapped to his feet, overtaking Andrei before he could stop him from doing what he intended to do.

He reached the infirmary in a few minutes, when anyone would’ve taken much longer, and as soon as he opened the double-hinged door of the hospital wing, he met the girl's moist and reddened eyes. Madam Pomfrey, or at least it seemed to him that the woman who cared for sick and wounded at Hogwarts was called like that, had already returned her teeth to a normal size but something in her expression told him that the girl was still suffering.

"If you're looking for Goyle he's willing to hide behind that curtain until his nose is normal again." she said, quickly looking away. Viktor frowned, wondering who could be Goyle.

"I'm actually here for you." he said, approaching with measured steps.

"Do you want to make fun of the big-toothed girl too?" she asked, stubbornly looking away.

"No. I just wanted to ask you who attacked your friend."

When she finally looked at him, her expression seemed surprised. Then she recomposed, and mumbled that it didn’t matter, that he and Harry were even.

"Then I'll ask you who made fun of you." he added. He wouldn’t have left that infirmary until he had someone on whom he could avenge her.

“Everyone.” she said, hiding her face in her hands.

“Miss Granger, you can…” started Madam Pomfrey, but she stopped suddenly, looking at an indefinite point behind his shoulders. “And who are you?"

Viktor turned and met Poliakoff's mortified gaze. He probably hadn’t even understood what the woman had just asked him: his English was terrible.

"Professor Karkaroff asked me to come looking for you shortly after you left the boat, but I didn’t know where to find you." He looked slightly out of breath. "They want you on the ground floor, for the Daily Prophet’s photos.”

Viktor stopped himself from snorting, but it bothered him beyond all limits.

"So, Miss Granger, I suppose we'll see each other later." he said, before getting up from the cot on which she too was sitting.

"Hermione, my name is Hermione."

Viktor nodded, as a sign that he had understood, and a faint smile appeared on his face as he descended to the lower floor. It wasn’t really an answer, but at least it was somewhere to start.

[kyloripped]

Lazuli

Hey folks, I’ve had a fic rattling around on my phone for nearly a year so I thought it was finally time to post it! In honour of Mermay I have a written a small Mermaid!AU in which Hux is a grizzled sailor and Ren is a mermaid. As usual I thank @sugardaddyhux for sitting with my for hours in a coffee shop last year and helping me build the foundations of this idea. I’m nervous as I haven’t written a proper fic in a while but here goes! Here is a bit of the fic, the rest is on my Ao3. Enjoy <3

[Ao3 Link]

The ocean was boiling, rolling in anger. Any ship foolish enough to dare set sail soon felt the grizzly waves slap against their keep as the sea roared its discontent.

Armitage Hux was no fool, and yet he braved the unforgiving waves. No matter how black the sky became he would not tolerate trespassers on his land. And trespassers there were; somewhere in the mass of grey manifested the dark, unwanted outline of a ship.

Whalers or some other stubborn trawlers invaded his waters. The calm morning had been coveted by many ships, but most had the good sense to quit when they saw the dark hull of his ship stalk the waves to warn them away. Not this particular ship though, which had clung to the horizon line with some kind of irritating defiance.

The storm had caught both of them by surprise. What had begun as a trading of biting insults had been sucked away by the howling wind, had been dulled by the force of the waves shunting their keels from side to side. Hux had leaned against his stern and shouted at them to leave his waters, but the wind stole his words.

The wind now howled around them in salt bitten fury and the invading ship keeled to the side. Hux, a safer distance into the shallows, felt his breath sucked out of him as he saw the inevitable; an unseen rock smashed against the intruder’s hull. A ripping noise mixed with a crescendo of screams and the boat hovered uncertainly for a moment, suspended for one second of pure disbelief as it was silhouetted against the iron sky. Hux was clutching at the prow for dear life as he saw the water break over their stern.

There was nothing to do but watch; one moment there was a ship, the next there was great jagged hulks of debris floating against the waves. A discordant shout of, “Don’t let go of it-!” had cut through the roaring, but that could have been mere fancy. Hux clutched the damp wood as he felt the sea ready to suck his ship into its own watery maw.

But Hux was a sailor. A wind bitten, jaded thing, but a mere storm would not faze him. He leaned into the wind as he felt the boat shift, his eyes on alert for any rock or fast moving current that may rise up to thwart him. The pounding of the sea was a rhythm he loved almost as dearly as breathing. Trusting his old ship to guide him he started steering starboard towards the safe haven of the shoreline.

And then he saw it; the shape of a hand seemed to rise up out of the graveyard of scattered debris like a small beckoning flag; help. Help me. It hovered above water level before sinking, then rose up again to catch his attention.

The sight tormented him. To go back for what was quite possibly a dead body was madness, but the hand looked like it was moving. It tugged at Hux like a compass point, and before he knew it he was changing course.

When Hux had managed to heave the ship towards the shape the first thing he registered was the dark crisscross of a net floating in the water and dissecting it into squares. The next thing was that there was a man twisted in that net- a large shape pulled underwater by the cruel bonds encasing it. Hux could just see dark hair floating above the water level before it was sucked down again.

Mind in autopilot, he reached into the icy water to grab at the net. He nearly toppled overboard as it yanked away from him. Thinking it was the current, Hux just pulled harder until the rope began to rise towards him. When the face finally broke the waves Hux almost lost his grip.

The eyes were yellow. Bright and mistrustful, they narrowed as the dark lips split into a snarl. The bared teeth seemed all incisor as they glinted up at him in fury. Hux stared dumbfounded and unable to understand what exactly he was looking at.

But the creature, for creature it was, had its neck constructed by the net, the one free arm struggling to rip free from the bonds encasing the rest of him. The more he struggled the tighter the net closed in on his throat.

There also seemed to be blood billowing from a nauseating wound in the chest which made a cloud of red amongst the grey. It billowed and coalesced like ink spreading to stain everything it touched. Hux’s hands were red to the elbows as he leaned into the water.

Teeth gritted, Hux pulled at the cruel net ensnaring the creature. He knew without a doubt that it would die if he left it to be strangled in these turbulent waves. And even more, he knew that to let go now would mean losing the most important catch he may ever find in his career.

The rope cut into the blue tinged skin without mercy and there was another howl as the creature was brought above the water level. What a howl it was- it cut through mouth, then air and then bone. Struggling, Hux pulled and pulled and cursed the sea, the creature and himself for being so stupid to risk his life this way. Somehow the whole weight of the body thudded to the deck as it was hauled aboard. Face down and with dark hair spread on the salt-bitten wood, the creature did not move. Body sagging and bloodied tail motionless, the trauma of the net and turbulent sea seemed to have overcome it.

Tail. Hux gawped at the whole length of the man… no, the mermaid. He felt dizzy as the realisation came to him. The tail was an enormous, coiling mass of dark scales scratching against the decking. Bright red blood was seeping into the wood as if it were thirsty for a drink. The rest of the creature was thickly built and so huge with it that it made Hux feel hopelessly small. The broad back was crisscrossed with the pearlescent slashes of old wounds and the hands had unfurled to show sharp webbed fingers.

It needs to die, was Hux’s desperate, immediate thought. One wouldn’t haul a shark on board no matter how much that doleful black gaze cut through the heart to clutch at some kind of mercy. But this was no shark; the large dark lips were still open in a silent scream of pain even as the yellow eyes were shut. It had been a human scream that had come from that mouth. Feeling nauseous, Hux steered towards the shore.

Later on, Hux would never know how he managed to drag the creature across the sand and to his door. Some last vestige of adrenaline perhaps, or maybe he knew that it was the only way to save the creature. He pulled and heaved and a long red line was carved into the wet sand to be sucked back down by the time he reached the blue front door. The creature was still motionless, still succumbing to either injury or fatigue.

The body dragged another line of red grit on the spotless wooden floors as Hux heaved him towards his bathroom. The long, dark tail flopped hopelessly behind them, and Hux saw with a jolt that the tip of his marvellously long fin was torn to shreds. His legs tingled in some kind of hopeless empathy as they entered the bathroom.

Across the white tiles they went. The huge body thumped heavily to the floor as Hux let go, rolling his shoulders and grimacing at the ache there. He stretched out to turn on the taps over the bath. As the water fell into the tub he turned back to the creature.

Its eyes were open.

Hux barely had time to move before the creature darted forwards. There was a horrible discordant screech bouncing around the bathroom as it writhed in his direction. Hux gave a shout as he clutched the bathroom wall for safety. Jaws snapping, the beast accidentally slapped its long ruined tail against the side of the bath. The resulting groan of pain was low and long. Hux took the moment of weakness to leap over the figure and towards the door. Hearing it crash behind him, he stood in the corridor for a moment with chest heaving.

A mermaid. In his bathroom. A mermaid. His breaths began coming quicker then. Knowing that accepting the truth would most probably lead to meltdown, Hux locked the bathroom door with a shaking hand. He would think about this rationally and deal with when he had formulated a plan that did not involve him being bitten by those frightening teeth. His thoughts were accompanied by the crashes and shrieks coming from behind the locked door, but Hux was practised at ignoring unwanted things.

The next day was tense. There was the odd thump from the bathroom but otherwise the creature had seemed to slump into uneasy silence. When Hux was making himself some much needed breakfast, he wondered if the creature was hungry. The image of the flashing incisors lunging towards him killed any thought of going back into the bathroom however.

The house was eerily quiet. Hux sat on his doorstep in the afternoon to fix some fishhooks that had bent out of shape. As he absentmindedly twisted the metal he cut his thumb on the sharp barbed tip. The small bead of blood reminded him of the great slash in the creature’s chest and he all but recoiled.

When Hux's rumbling stomach prompted him to make a late lunch he threw some kippers into a pan and began frying them. He watched the fish sizzle in the butter, and his eyes were drawn to the little tails poking the sides of the pan. Did the mermaid eat fish? Hux couldn’t decide if that counted as cannibalism. But he must surely be hungry by now. He would never be approachable if Hux starved him out. Before he quite knew what he was doing, he was stood outside of his bathroom door with a plate of kippers. Feeling stupid, he pressed his ear pressed against wood and listened.

Nothing. But, no, that wasn’t quite right- there was a quiet splash coming from within. Gathering his courage, and more importantly the plate of fish, Hux turned the key.

Inside the bathroom was in utter disarray. His neatly folded towels were scattered on the floor, his bottles of shampoo and gel thrown under the sink. There was water everywhere. As Hux observed this horrifying sight, he saw that the yellow eyes were peeking up at him over the lip of the bath. Although the bath was comfortably large the creature was too big to fit in fully and his tail was flopped over the side like an enormous wet beanbag. But he had managed to dip under the water level. They regarded each other for a moment.

Hux was the first to move. Refusing to be intimidated, he walked in clipped footsteps towards the bath with the plate in hand. Stopping at the edge, he proffered it.

The yellow eyes looked up mistrustfully. Hux waited.

“Eat.” He said in a clear, slow voice.

There was one long blink at this. It took hux a few moments to realise that the creature may not understand him. He brought a hand up to his mouth and made an eating motion.

“For you. Eat.” He repeated, snapping his teeth.

There was a slight splash as the mermaid twitched at the noise. His ripped tail flicked more water into the floor. Hux sighed. This was hopeless.

He bent to leave the plate on the floor. As he walked back to the door he heard the sloshing of water which indicated that the creature had moved. He couldn’t resist turning, and when he did he saw the gleaming, blueish torso rise out of the water. The wound there was ghastly but bloodless now, and small beads of water stuck to the skin like small pearlescent beads. The yellow eyes blinked once at Hux as he retreated although he could not make out the expression sat there.

Safely outside, Hux clutched at his temples. His head hurt. He had to find some way of dealing with this creature….no. Ren. Hux’s face creased into a frown. How did he know that? His ear itched, or maybe it was some intangible place he couldn’t reach that did. He did not relish the sensation. He made his way back to his fishhooks, his mind echoing to unfamiliar word. Ren. Ren.

***

[Find the rest of the chapter on ao3!

[everythingisbetterwithpirates]

Mind, Body & Soul: Dialogue Series II

Regarding: A Dirty Little Secret

Thunder echoed far away, resembling the chaos taking place on the other side of the world. Far enough that it did not come with a rumble. On a soft slope in the sandy beach, Margharette sat. Without weapons or a fancy suit. No monocle to help hide what hid in her dark blue eyes. Instead, she wore a comfortable white camisole. It matched her cotton shorts. Feet half-sank into the grains. To her left was a fuzzy coconut. It was decorated with a bright, pink umbrella and aided by a bendy straw.

What would have been a linear horizon slowly turned into a steamy, textured one. Lightning brought out the shapes hidden in the distance. And for a brief moment, the far away beats of thunder matched the rhythm of her heart. Margharette picked up her coconut, guiding the straw to her lips and watching the storms loom in the night sky.

{ Mind, Body and Soul will be expressed through three different beings.}

Rette was a fancy woman of fancy tastes. Her adoration towards all things beautiful and elegant extended beyond jewels and fabrics. Long, dark hair intricately braided behind the ears. It rose to the impossibly tight and well rounded bun at the top of her head. She was dressed in a sleek garment. Intricate embroidery which followed the movements and patterns of spiders and snakes outlined some features while shimmering, golden fabric did the rest. She drank from a saucered teacup that flared at the rim.

Mar was a physical duplicate of Rette, but she lacked the pretty dress. She lacked clothes in general. And her hair was not impeccably tied into a knot. It was loose. Slung carelessly over her freckled shoulders and back. Mar sat with her knees hugged closely to her chest. Directly across from discipline, sat relaxation. She drank from a coconut with a little pink umbrella sticking out from the side.

And then there was Gha. Only the woman’s silhouette persisted in this image. That and her typical business attire. It was a faceless being with a tight knot around it’s neck. No defining features beyond a head, a torso and functional limbs. Ashen, roughly textured skin made up her exposed extremities. There was no drink to be shared with the group. Only folded hands.

Even the empty seat across from Gha had been served with a pair of coffee cups. One was of regular size and the other a miniature version of it.

In the middle of a table was Frank the Cactus. His home was a simple, handcrafted ceramic pot. Pebbles and dirt secured him firmly in place. And as the group readied to converse, it tilted to the right.

Mar sucked from the straw before she placed the coconut on the table. 

Mar: "Without our dreams, we would be stuck to the ground. You go higher. And higher... "

Mar paused, staring off into the unknown. 

Mar: " ... but then you get too close to the sun."

Rette: "Is that where you burst into flames?"

Mar: "Something like that." Words were spoken with a knowing grin. 

Gha: "Tell us-s-s anyway. Enjoy it. Do it. When things exp-p-plode."

Across Mar's shoulder, a transluscent plume of dark purple stroked. Soothingly so.

Mar: "Why linger in the abyss when we can gently glide across the skies? No. I want to do it. I will pursue this ardent adversary into whatever it leads to. Dark roads do not disturb me. Not living while I am alive does."

Gha's entire form shivers. It begins at the top, where two depressions on the raw and skin like texture of it's body seemed to be drawing the shape of a frown. A thick and tar-like substance oozed. Where it once created the illusion of a finely crafted business suit, it now rolled and ransacked with agitation, removing all regularity from the uniform. The would-be lines over the head deepened. A gaping maw was left behind, one that revealed nothing more than agitation in the form of black and purple needles.

Rette looked between Mar and Gha, bringing her flowery cup of tea to her lips for a long drink.Pretentious nostrils flared in preparation for battle between two stalwart sides of the same coin. For a moment, her attention drifted to the empty seat to her right. Just a cup next to another. One big. One small. Both deserving of more. She cleared her throat and turned towards the others.

Frank danced to the left without a sound.

Rette: "Very well. We shall discuss. let us begin with the obvious. Present dangers. Precautionary measures have been taken, but all it takes is one tiny error and it is over. It will spread all across this table. So much so that it becomes it."

Mar: "Oh, aye. We would cease to exist as is. But this picture is no longer just stormy skies. His plans bring a possibility that cannot be ignored. If he succeeds, it could be just like a scene from a play. Walking down the garden. Holding hands.”

Mar's gaze turned to Gha who was quietly brooding and staring into the empty seat across, to Mar's left. 

Mar: "... Maybe someone crying or dying in the background. Nothing unnatural."

Gha's faceless face shuddered.

Rette: "His predatory nature will surely persist through the split. Strong on both sides, but only one would pose a high level of danger -- and it is not going to be the real him. Of course, it should be noted that I believe my words to be biased. My pants would catch on fire were I to sat your hopes are not relatable. Or contagious."

Rette nodded to Mar, taking a delicate sip from her teacup. Polished pinkie extended.

With a dislocated succession of faint 'pops' and 'cracks', Gha stood from it's seat. Though a pair of arms were discernible, it's legs slithered and dragged across the wooden floor as if they were one. Another round of ripples and needlish spikes traveled across the hazy suit. 

Gha: "I. Will. S-s-s-show you. Your desires. This is one of it's many. P-possibilities."

Frank tilted to the right. It's thorny body was fantastically bendy.

Behind the empty seat, a scene began to appear. It was prompted by Gha's waving hand. Like a weathered painting, patterns and shapes flourished. A sizable portion of a ship's cabin replaced the empty darkness. Windows revealed both ocean and land in the distance. But before such escapes was a bloodstained bed. The expansion of the image revealed two bodies.

One was a grown human male. He was of shaggy blonde hair and a dark, tanned complexion. He lay face down, bleeding into the bed from the wound on the side of his head. One of his arms was wrapped around the second body. A much smaller one. That of an infant girl who looked to be no older than several months. The child's wound mirrored that of her father's. 

Gha: "This could be him if his plan succeeds. And her. He did. Did not come alone. Or it. Could be us-s-s."

The scene continued to extend, revealing a gun on the floor. A dying lamp swung from the ceiling as turbulent waves began to come around. 

Gha: "The inevitable conclusion of all life. Death."

Gha paced enthusiastically behind it's spot on the board. Mar and Rette steadily watched. One had a teacup, the other a coconut. Where Mar swayed her head, Rette drummed her fingers. 

Gha: "Instead of them outliving us. We. Outlive them. Neither brings good tidings-s-s."

Margharette appeared on the scene, arriving to what would become her last day in paradise. Stricken with grief, she falls to her knees. The woman gasped for air, but her sobs went by silently. The picture was muted. One after the other, her cries went ignored. 

Gha: "There. F-f-fallen. Every good thing once felt. Destroyed. Crushed by loss."

In the recreation of her pain, Margharette began to reach for the loaded weapon on the floor.

Frank swayed left.

Another tendril of Shadows coiled around Mar's shoulders, this time extending to her neck and bare chest. One were now two.

Meanwhile, Margharette's attempts to place the gun against her head were thwarted by a violent quake. Her grip faltered. The heavy piece fell to the ground with a thud as loud as hers. Unlike the others, this sound boomed across the space of those watching. Tightly, Margharette clutched her chest, blue eyes rising to the bodies of her loved ones. She choked. She groaned. But then nothing. 

Gha: "And you couldn't even finish it yourself."

A few more twitches and Margharette's heart was finally done. Broken. Not enough strength to keep her going and away from death's door. Now, it became the key that unlocked it.

Mar: "I can be next in line."

Gha, who had been pacing a little more, froze on it's tracks. Though it's body was turned away from Mar, it's ghoulish head turned around. All the way around. The sound of bones breaking and colliding was as gruesome as that of unseen teeth gnawing and grinding.

Gha: "You. Just like. Me."

Rette took a last glance at the disappearing image, finding the clarity of it's details satisfactory. She then looked between Mar and Gha with a less severe expression, drinking quietly from her cup.

Mar's head swayed from side to side after giving Gha a confident nod. 

Mar: "Our fate is shared. That was something made extremely clear after this catastrophe. The wheel spun and showed us the direction. Now we have it. That was the deal. Two more opportunities, if possible, for the third has already been taken advantage of."

Gha: "Options. There are others."

Slowly, Frank the Cactus tilted to the right again.

Rette: "None that entice all senses like he does. Even YOU will surrender." Unwavering authority composed said words.

Gha: "You defend this because you are infatuated. And because it will not be YOU that endures... "

Gha began to move closer to the table, body rapidly and gracelessly turning to match the direction of it's head.

Gha: " ... t-t-this."

Rette's flowery cup rose, used as a means to signal her agreement towards the creature at her left.

Mar: "We have been in the warm shores of paradise. Many never even see it. And while that may not be the final destination of this voyage, the risk is still worth it. Patience will be worth it. This is not the same Margharette from then. This is now. And if in the future, darkness should encase me, I am comforted by the fact that it will be YOU that stands alone. Radiance in a room of monsters. Means there will still be a chance... And I do like chances."

Mar's shaven coconut rose, mimicking Rette's previous cheering motion with her contrasting fancy cup.

Gha silently stared at the seat across even without eyes. Frail hands settled over it's own seat, but soon, Gha joined the others seated at the table.

Frank veered left, it's spine flexible but unbreakable. 

Gha: "Useless. Your silence. Is not. Or is it... It is. Or... "

Rette: "Banter aside, this companionship has touched us all in one way or another. Most recently, I noted an irregularity during a session. These feelings of adoration... Of love -- they must be carefully woven into the cover story. Too many lies and the story is too weak to stand on it's own. Not enough, and we expose a weakness. One the enemy can and would exploit. Twice, because there are TWO people involved. The verbal foreplay routine when engaged in work will need to be reworked. Rephrased. Refreshed."

Mar: "This discussion has nothing to do with business."

Rette: "Everything can be business if you're gray enough."

Mar stared at Rette for a long and spiteful moment, but the feeling passed. Slid with ease. Like melted butter. 

Mar: "Which is why I am making this call. What needs to be done will be done. That is what I trust you to do if it comes to such blows. Let the winds die now so that we may reach a conclusion and gaze into our future."

Rette nodded, throwing a tiny cube into her refilled cup. Gha only continued to glare ahead.

Rette: "Preparations for many possibilities have already begun. The Crabby Cabin will also be going through extensive renovations. This place will be a fortress. One where both him and her can seek refuge from what comes, given that there will finally be room for more than one person. What truly worries me is the vessel he leaves behind. With any luck, and maybe some bribes, it will be kept busy."

Gha shuddered, it's stable but fluid form vivid and animated. 

Gha: "Miss-s-s. I will miss it. I. Yet. Do not know the satisfaction of making it..." The voice became even more distorted. Wisps of thick Shadows wrapped around it's head, moving in fast spinning circles. 

Gha: "... Submit. In full. Without him being bound. By ch-ch-chains."

Frank tilted to the right.

Mar: "Confusing creature."

Gha: "Remind yourself. No matter how the next fall comes. You. And I. Will look the same."

Mar fell silent, turning to glance at the empty coffee cups to her right. With acceptance, she nodded. 

Rette: "Then it is settled. The chance will be taken. This means that our grip on emotions, and by our I of course mean mine, will need to be better than flawless at all times. Especially when we consider what is happening deeper down the rabbit hole."

Behind Rette's ear, a Shadowy line curved and twisted. After snaking around the back of her neck, it disappeared beneath her golden garments. 

Mar: "Be it by Chance or otherwise, our fates are here. Present. Some of the tails found down this road lead to heartbreak. Others to happiness. To peace. Peace that is violently forged elsewhere. Here? It is made complete by his presence. Fun. Joy. Love. Care. Affection. All siblings. All part of the same thread."

Gha: "Even I feel this. This that you speak of. To not pursue and protect this treasure would be criminal."

The three beings looked between each other and nodded. Mar and Rette rose their drinks and indulged. Gha sat still. And the empty seat remained empty.  

Frank the Cactus moved again. Now it sat straight.

[spirits-and-scales]

Closed Starter

@chainsxwsmile

——————————————— Wind rushed against the boat, and the clouds overhead were only getting darker with thunder rumbling in the distance. Everything swayed from side to side with the turbulent waves, fishing rods, tackle boxes, and any other loose supplies rolling across the deck.

Kate sat crouched against the rail, her arms wrapped around one of the poles and clinging tightly with her knuckles turning white. She couldn’t move without being toppled over and no one seemed to bother noticing even after she called to them, so she forced herself to stay put. Her brows were furrowed as she glared at her scrambling cousins who rushed to secure things while yelling orders at each other.

They dragged her onto this boat to go fishing against her will because they said it would be FUN and make her LESS BORING. The NERVE! Of course they were too scared of her brother to force him onto the boat, so he was still on shore somewhere.

She couldn’t stand being on boats…. Not in open water…. Open water meant sinking. Sinking meant drowning.... It wasn’t safe. ESPECIALLY not in weather like this, and not so late into the evening!

Those IDIOTS! her thoughts shouted as the vessel rocked far to the side, forcing seawater to splash through the rails and loosen her grip as well as get her jeans and tank top soaked through. Panic surged through her nerves until she had to squeeze her eyes shut and grit her teeth just to keep from screaming out loud.

The boat rocked again as it started to rain, this time to the opposite side. At first it seemed to be evening itself out, until a wave roughly half the size of the boat itself crashed over the deck. With her hold on the rail already compromised, Kate was torn off the rail and thrown overboard before she could react.

Frigid waves rushed around Kate, her heart pounding violently as she fought to get her head above the water. When she did finally brake the surface the boat had already disappeared among the taller waves while the current threatened to yank her back under.

Her frantic shouts in attempt to regain contact were drowned out by the pouring rain, and she was only just able to keep her head from going back under.

Warning bells seemed to flash in her head all of a sudden, and she flipped her head around. She almost didn’t notice it was about to send her crashing into the rock face of a cluster of alcoves only a few dozen feet behind her.

Had she really been carried that far already?!

Taking a sharp exhale, Kate ducked back into the water long enough to twist around and catch herself against the rock before the current slammed her into it. And she used every foothold she could possibly find to haul herself up the slippery wall.

Breaking the surface gasping and coughing raggedly, she frantically clawed to get on solid ground where the base of the alcove was wide and flat and the rock above stood arched like a ceiling supported by stone columns.

Smaller waves still crashed into the outer pools before receding, but they didn’t seem to be getting much closer. It would seem the storm was heading away from here...

But that didn’t remotely register in Kate’s mind before she collapsed on her back trembling in terror, her vision spinning so wildly that her surroundings became a blur and she had to squeeze her eyes shut before she felt anymore nauseous. She couldn’t even bring herself to care that her legs were still half hanging over the ledge with her feet in the water.

[miss-agent-e-15-jedi]

Chapter Seven

After what seemed like about ten minutes (although it could’ve been way longer), I slowly emerged from my abysmal meditation trance. I wasn’t completely sure if I’d consciously navigated the X-wing or if she’d flown herself, but that wasn’t as important as what now lay ahead of me. The opaque emptiness of space, specked with numerous twinkling stars, was obscured by what seemed like a gargantuan cloud of smoke. The smoke swirled in a few places, like the eyes of storms, and specks of blackish-green were the only indication that my destination was in any way terrestrial.

In his cubby behind me, Artoo woke up and started beeping uneasily.

“Yes, that’s it,” I responded after reading the translation. “Dagobah.”

The little droid chirped, making a last-ditch effort to make me go back to the rendezvous.

“No, I’m not going to change my mind about this,” I answered.

As I came closer to the gloomy atmosphere, something inside me began to reconsider Artoo’s option. The Force had guided me here, yes, but nevertheless, I wasn’t sure what to expect from this anomalous system.

I commented, “I’m not picking up any cities or technology. Massive life-form readings, though.”

Analyzing the scopes, I imagined that this place wouldn’t be like a barren wasteland like Hoth or my home world, Tatooine; but at the same time, it wouldn’t be some kind of metropolis.

“There’s something alive down there,” I sighed.

Artoo beeped. I smiled reassuringly as I told him, “Yes. I’m sure it’s perfectly safe for droids.”

A few seconds later, I passed through the outermost layer of the planet’s atmosphere. I had hoped that as I got closer to the surface, the fog would clear up. It didn’t, and my vision was completely obscured. Turbulence suddenly surrounded me on all sides, with earsplitting scrapes that threatened to break the windows and bursts from the ship’s retrorockets as they lost all power. An alarm screamed, and I desperately worked the controls in an attempt to stabilize the ship. My efforts were futile; even the scopes weren’t registering anything.

Above all the turmoil, Artoo squealed frantically. The translator wasn’t working, but I didn’t even need that to tell me why he was distressed.

“I know! I know!” I hollered. “All the scopes are dead! I can’t see a thing!”

At this point I realized that a crash was inevitable, but perhaps, I thought, I might be able to soften the impact I was anticipating. Struggling to keep a calm tone, I said, “Just hang on! I’m gonna start the landing cycle!”

The little droid’s electronic screams were drowned about by the increased turbulence, which was emphasized by the sound of branches snapping and slight cracks damaging the outermost pane of the windshield. Suddenly the ship began to drop fast, sending my insides leaping into my throat. I braced myself for impact, anticipating, with a slight sense of déjà vu, the same crash as I’d felt with the snowspeeder; this time, I dreaded, I may not be so lucky.

I was nearly flung out of my seat when the ship jolted to a stop, accompanied by an incredible splashing of water all over the windows. When it became silent again, I exhaled deeply, certain that the X-wing was on the ground at last. I glanced out the side window, and the shrill crowing of some winged creature broke the silence. The crowing went as soon as it came, and Artoo’s low-pitched, nervous beeps were the only sounds to be heard.

I opened the canopy, pulling my gloves off. My face was immediately engulfed by sticky humidity. It didn’t take me long to realize that I’d crash-landed into a bog of some sort; murky water bubbled on all sides. I put a palm to my face and groaned, wiping the sweat off my chin.

Great, I thought, flinging my gloves in frustration. JUST GREAT! Now how am I gonna get out of here?

I climbed out of the cockpit and edged along the nose of the ship to get my first glimpse of the new world. It could’ve been twilight at the earliest it was so dark. The ship’s landing lights barely pierced a meter through the thick fog. The stench of rot overwhelmed my sinuses. Mist hovered just above the surface of the water, and gnarled trees with gigantic roots formed an eerie mangrove forest on the dry land. I could only gaze around with unpleasant awe; Dagobah definitely wasn’t like any other system I’d ever seen. I’d have probably been more amazed if I didn’t have to worry about my swamped X-wing.

I heard Artoo beep behind me. I turned to see him standing above his cubby.

“No, Artoo you stay put,” I said, taking my helmet off. “I’ll have a look around.”

I moved a few more centimeters down the nose, and that was when the ship suddenly wobbled from side to side. Trying to get my balance back seemed to only make the ship quake even more. The second I regained my balance, I heard a loud squeal from Artoo, followed a heartbeat later by a loud splash. I turned in the direction where the little droid had been less than a minute ago. He was gone.

Tossing my helmet into the cockpit, I scurried over to the side of the ship where Artoo had fallen in. “Artoo!?” I called out. No answer.

“ARTOO!” I yelled. “Where are you?!”

My heart began to accelerate. I couldn’t sense my droid friend in the Force, for he was not a life form. Artoo couldn’t be gone! That little droid and I had been through so much together, toying with the grim reaper but still triumphing. Now he was lost forever in the swamp? No! He couldn’t be!

I shouted one last time. “ARTOO!”

Holding my breath, I prayed, C’mon, Artoo! Give me a sign! Something!

Out of the blue (or should I say, out of the water?), a periscope pierced the surface, followed by a series of surprised beeps and whistles. I felt faint with relief for a second, watching as the scope began moving towards the shore.

Gee, I thought. Who knew my little friend had a submarine mode?

“You be more careful,” I instructed.

He turned the wrong way, darting away from the shore.

“Artoo,” I said softly, pointing out the way to go. “That way.”

Artoo complied. I then jumped into the water; it wasn’t freezing cold, but it wasn’t like bath water, either. Then again, since I still had my flight suit on, that may have had something to do with how the temperature felt. I swam about a meter and half, and then pulled myself onto dry land, using the massive roots from the gnarled trees as a ladder. My suit absorbed enough water to weigh me down a little, and make ascending out of the water a slight struggle. Breathing heavily, I turned back toward the water to see if Artoo had caught up with me.

The periscope was above the water one second and then gone the next, accompanied by frantic beeps and whistles. A massive black shadow became visible where the periscope had been, and then vanished beneath the surface. An ominous, rumbling growl sounded across the swamp, censoring the little droid’s cries.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “ARTOO!”

Instinctively I yanked my blaster pistol out of its holster and directed it towards that swamp creature, whatever it was. The water gurgled, and then a terrifying silence penetrated the air. My heart dropped at the thought that I really had lost my loyal droid friend this time. I heard more rumbling noises beneath the bog, most likely from that swamp monster. I raced along the shoreline, not taking my eyes off the spot where the sounds were coming from. I staggered in the shallow reeds, keeping my gun drawn and waiting. For what, I didn’t know.

There was an explosion in the water, an explosion that made me back up involuntarily and nearly sent me tripping over my own heels. Electronic screams sounded through the air; I followed the sound to its source: a mud-blackened projectile flying through the air. It took less than a heartbeat to realize what it actually was. It stunned me enough that I couldn’t help but watch with awe and horror as Artoo arched through the air.

It was his horrific landing that snapped me out of my semi-trance. Racing to the very edge of the forest, I scanned the darkness for any sign of the droid. I perceived what appeared to be something metal beneath all the twisted roots and trotted over to it. Sure enough, it was Artoo, covered in mud and saliva.

“Oh no,” I groaned. “Are you alright? Come on.”

I proceeded to get Artoo back on his feet. That was when I noticed part of a spine with ribs, along with what appeared to be a thigh bone leaning against a tree. There was mold and fallen vines draped across them, so they had to have been there for some time. Because they were right where Artoo had just landed, I assumed they’d been expectorated by the same monster that had tried to eat him.

“You’re lucky you’re don’t taste very good,” I commented as it suddenly occurred to me that if it had been the other way around, I’d have probably been as good as the old bones before us.

“Anything broken?” I asked as soon as my friend was upright again. By the tone of his beeps, it sounded like he wasn’t injured except for his dignity. I added, “If you’re saying coming here was a bad idea, I’m beginning to agree with you.”

I sat down on a nearby root, starting to think again and becoming more skeptical about my quest. “Oh, Artoo, what are we doing here?” I wondered out loud. “It’s like…something out of a dream or…I don’t know.”

I glanced around the swamp before me once more, and I began to seriously wonder what I was doing, crash-landing in this unfamiliar environment, and all because of a possible hallucination of Old Ben back on Hoth.

Scraping mud off of Artoo’s dome, I grumbled, “Maybe I’m just going crazy.”

Almost before I stopped talking, I was slightly startled when muddy water shot out of one of the droid’s portals.

Stay Tuned for Chapter Eight! 

[part-timepoet]

NaPoMo - Day Five

National Poetry Month April 5th, 2017

Chic’s Beach

Two young women slid forward through the lazy waves of the Chesapeake Bay-- sluggish and listless--as if the hot August sun sweltered them into a comatose state. Their arms parted the way forward, farther, and farther out into the heart of the city’s bay-- whose sullied sands were not as bleached and clean as its neighboring coastline, whose secluded waters were not so turbulent and translucent as the Atlantic Ocean.

Swimming parallel to the bay’s bridge-tunnel, the women had long left the loud, splish-splash activity of the children’s shallows behind. They found themselves surrounded in a hushed silence-- with only the bridge’s reverberating rumbles and an occasional seagull’s call. To fill the silence, they chit-chatted and laughed out loud, as they slowed to a meager crawl-- where they found a profound peace among the salty bay breeze and refreshing, cool water.

This intense outer peace soon dug out deep-seated emotions-- radical, overwhelming sensations of self-awareness. Discovering what can only be found and felt with self-detachment, a retraction from the dystopia, and retreatment to mother nature, they were overcome with an ardent longing to let go-- to follow nature’s steady flow, and join the natural order.

Now treading in-place and silently surveying the close horizon, they were suddenly startled, and yanked away from the point of no return, as a loud splash crashed close to them. Turning, they sprang up and away from the thrashing waves, and saw a rusty-brown dorsal fin breaking the sea’s rough surface and a slick, milky underbelly rolling over in the crashing waters.

Sinking back down into the swirling water and falling out of the induced coma, they swung around toward the shoreline and were shocked awake by how far they had traveled. Reevaluating their far-reaching intentions and giving into a warped human instinct, they began flailing and flinging themselves toward supposed safety Squinting, they could make out a signaling crowd on shore-- who, with energic waving and encouraging yelling, called for them to wake up begged for them to come back, to come back to bay’s dirty sands.

--d.f.whit

Inspired by a true-story and NaPoWriMo-Day Five prompt: write a poem that is based in the natural world, and also by the Day Four prompt:  write a poem with a secret – in other words, a poem with a word or idea or line that it isn’t expressing directly--an enigma.

[clubofinfo]

Expert: In this analysis we examine Libya’s recent history looking through the eyes of the Guardian, the flagship of liberal western outlets, and its reporting. As with most other western media, the Guardian was an enthusiastic supporter of the NATO intervention that overthrew Gaddafi and threw the country into the disaster that we are about to describe. Faithful to western interests then, the Guardian remains faithful afterwards as well. But imperial designs are laden with contradictions and sometimes drastically change course, but the Guardian dutifully follows. More interestingly, in light of the complex Libyan situation, the Guardian resorts to labels, adjectives, to distinguish the “good” (i.e. western-supported) actors from the “bad” ones. And as western powers stumble from one strategy to the next, these labels change accordingly. We start this journey around the 2012 election in Libya, a few months after the end of the brutal, western-led regime change. We will not focus on the western media’s cheerleading for the NATO intervention, on the basis of preventing a repeat of atrocities that did not happen and stopping an imminent massacre that was also not going to happen, or on the conveniently overlooked extremist elements in the opposition ranks. We will also not compare the free and democratic future predicted by western commentators to the disastrous failed-state that Libya has become. Finally, we also do not cover the tragic refugee crisis in the Mediterranean, even though it is a direct consequence of the turmoil in Libya. And while we scrutinize the Guardian’s coverage, most of what follows also holds for other mainstream western outlets. Gunpoint democracy The 2012 parliamentary election is hailed as “a major step toward democracy after decades of erratic one-man rule,” even with “politicians finally wak(ing) up to the power of women,” despite the unrest and lawlessness that had already taken hold of the country. The resulting General National Congress (GNC) is considered a hopeful mixture of Islamists and “moderates.” But with the country “awash with militias,” the news cycle soon becomes dominated by the assassination of the American ambassador in Benghazi on September 11, 2012. While this could have been taken as a clear sign that the extremist groups that had been armed did not turn democratic overnight, and especially did not see the west as a liberator, the Guardian instead tries to reassure us that democracy has come to stay. But if armed factions are running riot in the streets, life is not any easier for the factions in suits in Libya’s new parliament, as protests and disagreements leave “[…] Libya still without firm government, nearly three months after the parliamentary elections and with violence breaking out in several flashpoint towns.” The first designated prime-minister lasts a mere month on the job after his cabinet is rejected, and finally a government led by former Gaddafi diplomat-turned-opponent Ali Zeidan takes office, with equal doses of technocracy and sharia. To make our job slightly easier in what follows, we will refer to this government as G#1. The sailing from this point on is far from smooth, and the backlash from the NATO intervention starts to spread across the region. In January 2013, another western intervention begins, this time in Mali, to suppress a Salafist rebellion that was flush with weapons in the wake of the Libyan chaos. We are told that the west had “overlooked risk of Libya weapons reaching Mali.” But things are equally turbulent in Tripoli, with extremist tendencies and rogue militias coming to the fore. Somehow David Cameron’s promises that Libya “will have no greater friend than the United Kingdom” did not manage to quell centuries-old tribal rivalries, mushrooming armed militias and salafist groups. This is also the time when the UK government was being sued by the notorious Abdel Hakim Belhaj. Having fought alongside the Taliban in Afghanistan in the 1980s, Belhaj was renditioned by the secret services due to alleged links to al-Qaeda, and handed over to Gaddafi. After seven years in prison, he played a major role in the NATO-led intervention and became chief of security in Tripoli. The remarkable bit is that the Guardian refers to a career “jihadist” as a “politician.”1 The turmoil and tensions escalate, specially in the extremist capital of Libya, Benghazi, formerly known in the western press as the birthplace of the “revolution”. And at this point we see the real problem of a conflict between a weakened government, the Muslim Brotherhood with a growing influence in parliament, and other militias – a threat to the oil business. Amidst all the talk of “freedom” and “democracy” it was almost forgotten that Libya holds the biggest oil reserves in Africa. The high point of this struggle was probably the kidnapping of prime-minster Zeidan, an event Zeidan described as a coup attempt. Western journalists begin worrying that Libya is being “thrown into turmoil,” and especially worrying is the fact that luxurious hotels are no longer safe havens. The Guardian even feels the need to to present us a “who’s who” of the rival groups in Tripoli, since the previous “pro-western freedom fighters” label is no longer sufficient. The spectre of a generalized civil war hangs menacingly in the months that follow, as there is no way around the “inability of Libya’s government to rein in the powerful militias”. This period is marked by constant fighting, ministers shot dead and government resignations. Finally, PM Zeidan is ousted, even though he was a “popular figure with western diplomats,” and at this juncture it is worth noting that the parliament that was initially greeted as having important doses of “moderation” is now plainly labelled as “Islamist”. The impending campaign to retake the oil ports “risks splitting the country apart,” and this is the moment when an important figure enters the fray – General Khalifa Haftar. A former Gaddafi general, he fell out of favour after an ill-fated war against Chad, later joining an US-backed opposition group and taking part in a failed coup attempt against Gaddafi. He spent years in exile in the United States, until his dramatic return in early 2014 (he returned shortly in 2011 but the powers that be could not settle on a role for him). Haftar leads his forces on a two-pronged attack, on one hand attacking the parliament in Tripoli, calling for its dissolution, and on the other starting a campaign against hardline groups in Benghazi and eastern Libya. At this stage western analysts are a bit shell-shocked that their glorious humanitarian intervention has not exactly gone according to plan (!), but in general they welcome Haftar’s strongman antics since he is fighting “Islamists”. One more election and one more government While the Guardian ruefully declares that the “democratic dream is all but ruined,” and multiple figures claim they are the rightful prime-minister, Haftar continues his campaign in the east, and the country stumbles onto new legislative elections. This is declared to be “Libya’s last chance to reconnect with democracy,” but turnout was a lowly 18%. The coverage this time around is almost reduced to a footnote, since not even the former intervention cheerleaders want to associate themselves with the current mess. Quite predictably, the new poll leads to further fighting in the capital, forcing western countries to withdraw their diplomatic personnel. Even after all this mayhem, sane voices in the Guardian are few and far between. Anthony Loewenstein strikes quite an exasperated tone: “I feel like I’ve been writing the same column for over a decade: humanitarian interventions by the west end up destroying the countries they try to save.” “Is this your democracy?” (Cartoon by Carlos Latuff) In a nutshell, Islamist groups (“Libya Dawn”) in the capital were not happy with the new elections and took power by force, pushing the newly elected parliament, called Council of Deputies, to the far-eastern town of Tobruk. This parliament operated first out of a cruise ship and later out of a hotel. This is an important moment to take stock. There is a (renewed) General National Congress in Tripoli that has nominated a new government, which we will still label as G#1, while the Council of Deputies chose a different government, which we will call G#2, based in Tobruk.2 Furthermore, judicial authorities in Tripoli declare G#1 as being the legitimate one, although it’s fair to guess that being close to the G#1 militias with guns might have influenced this decision. And it is from this point on that the Guardian really brings out the labels. G#2 is the “legitimate”, “internationally recognised”, “democratically elected” government, whereas G#1 is the “Islamist”, “extremist” one, perhaps even “comparable to ISIS.” Unsurprisingly, the actual ISIS does spring up in Libya, taking control of the town of Derna before taking Gaddafi’s hometown of Sirte. What follows is a full-blown civil war between the two parallel governments, with Gen. Haftar being named commander of the armed forces loyal to G#2. The main fighting takes place in the oil-rich eastern provinces, specially for control of the coastal oil terminals. Libya’s oil output is but a tiny fraction of what it used to be, meaning that a lot of potential profit is going to waste. While ISIS begins to spread its influence, the two rival governments also begin gathering international support, with Qatar backing G#1 and the UAE and Egypt backing and even intervening militarily alongside G#2 against ISIS. But soon we start to see people wondering if the wrong government is being “recognised”, since there is a full-blown refugee crisis going on in the Mediterranean, and for western governments the solution is to simply stop the boats from leaving Libyan shores. There are now constant rumblings about forming a “new” government, with negotiating efforts being led by UN diplomat Bernardino Léon. The refugee crisis also becomes a bargaining chip for both G#1 and G#2. Meanwhile the civil war drags on, while the US carries on with its airstrikes everywhere, even killing Mokhtar Belmokhtar for the umpteenth time. Needless to say, the Guardian is now far less interested in covering this quagmire, even though some start to question the whole endeavour. Western powers remarkably start considering a new intervention, while pinning their hopes on Léon’s efforts behind the scenes. Finally there seems to be a breakthrough when Léon announces a new, “national-unity government”, which we will call G#3, that is meant to take over for the two parallel governments G#1 and G#2. G#1 and G#2 officials themselves seem less convinced, and the fighting goes on as before. People on the ground are not any more enthusiastic about this UN-imposed government, perhaps to the surprise of outside observers. But it is interesting to note that the Guardian seems to have no issues with this idea of nominating an African government from the outside, as if it were the nomination of a colonial governor. Western leaders could also have tried to feign a little more concern for the sacrosanct “democracy” they are always preaching about, perhaps trying the Yemeni model.3 The Solomonic mediator Bernardino Léon also does not cover himself in glory by taking money from the UAE, backers of G#2, and claiming he knows how to delegetimise G#1. He is replaced as UN envoy to Libya shortly afterwards. Two is company, three is a crowd Though it’s business as usual for US warplanes life on the ground proves much harder for honest-to-god multinational oil corporations, who run the dreaded risk of “sign(ing) a deal with the wrong people.” With ISIS threatening oil ports, western governments are itching for G#3 to take power so it can authorize foreign military intervention, but G#1 and G#2 remain far less inclined. Even with more UN-backing, contradictory and premature announcements, there is no approval and G#3 remains stuck in Tunis, as preparations for a new intervention are in full swing. The interesting aspect to notice is that around this time G#2 starts losing its “internationally recognised” label, and becomes just “Tobruk-based.” Similarly, the perspective of getting G#1 to vacate its seat in the capital means we are no longer constantly reminded of its “islamist” character, and it becomes just “Tripoli-based”. G#2 loses its “recognition” in the space of three months. Finally G#3, led by Fayez al-Sarraj, arrives in Tripoli, after the no-longer-islamist G#1 agrees to step aside. And although we lose G#2’s former label, the Guardian is quick to introduce a new one to ensure the reader knows which team to support. G#3 is now the “UN-backed” government, the one that will usher the country into a safe and prosperous future! It is also the government of “National Accord”, even though the Libyan people hardly had a say in it.4 And in a bizarre case of deja-vu, a British envoy arrives to pledge the eternal friendship of Her Majesty’s government. The Foreign secretary pledges that “ground troops could go to Libya,” because past mistakes are meant to be repeated. And lest we forget what this is really about, the issue of oil soon crops back up again. Within a couple of months G#2’s label has now gone all the way to “unrecognised” after it dared attempt to export oil. There is also a new chaotic element as parallel banknotes start circulating. Additionally, western leaders don’t seem to realise that fragile governments don’t become more popular if they are propped by foreign powers. It is also worth noticing that Gen. Haftar is now seen to be a problem because he refuses to bow to this UN-imposed government, even though he is still fighting Islamist groups and ISIS. In any case, both recognised and unrecognised forces, together with the ever-present US bombings, make quick gains against ISIS. The elimination of this threat means that G#1+3 and G#2 can go back to fighting each other, with the capture of all-important oil facilities by G#2 prompting a “call for military action.” Around this time the ill-advised Libyan intervention also comes under intense scrutiny in the UK. Whereas there are always reasonable voices in the debate, others disingenuously claim that nobody could have foreseen this disaster. A loosely-bound country with tribal rivalries held in check by a strongman’s mixture of carrot and stick strategies, then sees a huge inflow of weapons, religious extremism and foreign military intervention. What could have gone wrong? Of course, there are also those unrepentant imperial apologists like Bernard-Henri Lévy who would do it all over again. And this is more or less where we stand now, even though this story is far from over, and neither are the Guardian’s flexible labels. There is trouble in Tripoli, as the armed militias of the former G#1 are far less convinced about recognising G#3 than the UN and western diplomats. A failed coup attempt should serve as a warning, and the Guardian should be ready to dust off its “islamist” label at a moment’s notice. In the East, Gen. Haftar and G#2 move further to the dark-side by asking Russia for help, but remain firmly in control of several oil facilities. Furthermore, with an economic collapse looming and G#2’s oil output increasing, the west again wonders if it has bet on the wrong horse. The Guardian warns that G#3’s “window for […] action may be closing,” so there is a strong chance that the recognised, then unrecognised, G#2 might find itself recognised again, for whatever that is worth. As we have seen in this short story, nothing, not even the Guardian labels, are definite in Libya. In this farcical and tragic cycle, coups, foreign interventions, ISIS surges, and even Mokhtar Belmokhtar‘s death, are destined to be repeated so long as western empires stumble from one adventure to the next. * True to his calling, Belhaj would later join ISIS in its efforts both in Syria and Libya, but this might have been too embarrassing for the Guardian to report. * During the 2016 presidential campaign, when flexing her foreign policy muscle, Hillary Clinton defended her actions in Libya. Acknowledging that things were not perfect, which is quite the understatement, she stressed that there had been two “free and fair” elections. Even letting the “free and fair” part slide, what she forgot to add, and what any decent journalist should have pointed out, is that these two elections were not supposed to result in two parallel governments. * After the ousting of long-time dictator Abdullah Saleh in Yemen, the US and Saudi Arabia scrambled to ensure that ensuing elections would not harm their interests. Finally they settled on a ballot with a single candidate, Mansour Hadi, former 20-year vice-dictator. * This is on par with calling organizations that receive money from the US government (through USAID or NED) as “NGO”s just because they are serving the empire in other countries. They should be called FGOs, Foreign Government Organizations. http://clubof.info/