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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months ago

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Little Earthquakes - Chapter Seven.

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,525

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Minors DNI!

It had been two weeks since she’d seen Nathan, Holly beginning to wonder whether she’d done something wrong. At first, he’d had to cancel their planned Friday night date out of busyness, promising to see her the following week. It had been a promise yet to materialise a further week on from then, her messages beginning to go unanswered, too.

Her natural reaction was to wonder whether he was going off her, perhaps realising this casual dating thing they had wasn’t for him after all, but didn’t really know how to come out and tell her that. This truly wasn’t on brand for the kind of guy he was, though. As he’d said right from the start, he was straight up, he didn’t mess people around, and she believed that. However, this was odd behaviour, and it definitely negated his words.

Either way, she wouldn’t chase after him. The ball was now in his court, Holly carrying on with her life. She couldn’t deny it, though. She missed him.

“I think I’ve been ghosted.”

Kate paused from dipping a tortilla chip into the sour cream between them, gaping ever so slightly. “From Nathan?” It was hard to hear, given how into her friend he’d seemed, both witnessing it herself and from hearing Holly’s gushing over how lovely he was.

“Yeah. He's stopped replying to messages. I haven’t heard anything from him for five days now. Not sure what to do, other than leave the ball in his court, y’know.” It was Friday night, and she and Kate were having a few snacks before going out to meet up with a couple of their old friends from uni, sitting on the latter’s sofa watching a few episodes of Gogglebox.

“That’s, well. That’s strange, hun. He’s been so into you over the last two and a half months, all I’ve heard from you is how lovely he is and what a good time you guys are having together. Are you sure he’s not just busy?”

Her darling Kate. She always sought the best in people before jumping to the worst conclusions. “He said that,” she replied, scooping salsa onto the chip and popping it into her mouth with a loud crunch. “It’s the fact he isn’t messaging me back, though. I’m just being left on read.”

Kate’s face was a picture of surprise. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, men can be so bloody useless, can’t they? They don’t understand the urgency of replying to messages like we do, don’t realise our minds start going to the ‘but what if he doesn’t like me’ place more or less straight away. I mean, sometimes that’s just who they are. Hell, I’d never hold my breath waiting for the lummox to return a Whatsapp. I’d die!”

“I heard that!”

“You were meant to!” she shouted in the direction of the kitchen, Greg, her husband poking his head around the door with a huge grin. “I think leaving the ball in his court is the best idea. If he gets in touch, great. If he doesn’t, then we need to apply the Miranda Hobbes adage to the situation, tough as it might be to hear.”

As two die hard Sex and the City fans, she knew exactly what Kate referenced. It was tough, too, to have to reconcile that Nathan might just not be that into her. Whenever they were together, he acted anything but. He was affectionate and attentive, which made his radio silence even more baffling to fathom.

Kate’s usual no nonsense advice was probably the truth she needed to hear, though, no matter how much she pined for Nathan. If he wasn’t into her, then that was just the way it was. At thirty-four, she was beyond waiting around for a man. She wouldn’t let herself hang around in the fringes of his life while he decided whether or not he truly wanted to bring her into it properly.

They met up with their friends a couple of hours later, sitting outside at a bar in Marylebone, enjoying the bright summer evening. It was just as Kate was recounting a hilarious story of Greg and a decorating mishap that had led him to end up walking right off the end of a wallpaper pasting table that Holly’s phone beeped, unlocking the screen and feeling her heart quicken in an instant.

“Cutie!!! I’m so pissing sorry I’ve been MIA! Been up to my ears in work :( I know, I’m a bad man and you have full permission to smack my arse for not replying to you. I’d love to meet up with you tonight if you’re free?xx’

Part of her wanted to let him stew for a while, make herself unavailable, but she didn’t really go in for those kinds of game playing tactics. He’d offered an explanation and apology. Surely, that was good enough?

“I’m out with some old uni friends right now. I’ve missed you, too. It’s nice to hear from you. I can meet tomorrow, if you like?xx”

Immediately, she saw that he was typing a reply.

“Nah, where are you? Really want to see you now! Can’t cope with another day and no Holly!!xx”

“Girls, would any of you mind having a man crash our evening? Nathan, the guy I’m dating just messaged to ask,” she inquired, her friends’ faces all lighting up.

“Is he cute?” Trina asked. Going to her camera roll, she located a picture of her and Nathan, turning the screen. A few little coos abounded, seeing the image of them standing all cuddled up in her back garden she’d taken a few weeks prior. “He is! Tell him yes! Oh, look at his hair, wow!”

Wendy then chimed in, taking a look. “Hmm, not my type, but I don’t mind!”

“So, he finally gets in touch,” Kate spoke, giving her a little elbow nudge. “See? Told you he was probably just busy.” Turning to the group, she continued. “Wait until you see them together. They’re so adorable! He’s such a sweetie.”

“Very different from your usual type, though!” Penny, the third of the group announced, Holly tapping out a quick message to let him know where she was.

“I know, he really is. But he’s bloody gorgeous and so sweet, too.”

Kate snorted into her cocktail glass. “The seven-inch pierced cock doesn’t hurt either.”

Much screaming and whooping followed, Holly hiding her face.

“Oh, my life!” Trina cried, clasping her hands together. “What does it feel like?”

“Exactly as you’d imagine,” she revealed. “As do the two studs in his tongue.” More screaming. “I am telling you, that man is an absolute god in bed.” And yes, a little more screaming after that as the girls all descended into hysteria.

Reading his reply, she saw he’d be with them in just over half an hour, Holly going to get him a beer before sitting there fizzing with excitement that she finally got to see him again after two long weeks and no lovely man.

She was in the middle of hearing Trina speak about her very interesting day at her gallery when two tattooed arms folded around her from behind, a flurry of kisses pressed to her cheek.

“Missed you, gorgeous!” he announced loudly, vaulting over the barrier that bordered the outside area of the bar. “Alright, ladies!”

“Hello, Nathan,” they all chimed as he picked up the pint of beer waiting for him, thanking Holly, and then promptly downing it.

“Crapping hell, Nath!” she exclaimed as he placed the empty glass down again.

“I was thirsty.” Pausing, he then burped discreetly, beaming a grin. “Excuse me. Right, what’s that mad looking brown stuff in there that you’re all drinking?”

“An urban bourbon cowboy,” Wendy revealed, snort laughing at the confused look on his face.

“An urban, bour... whaty, what, what?”

The women all descended into laughter. “An urban bourbon cowboy!” Kate spoke for him again, having him move to give her a big hug and a kiss, almost knocking her from her chair with his enthusiasm. Something told her he’d probably already had a few drinks before arriving with them. He seemed a little more live wire than usual.

He looked to Holly, shaking his head. “I ain’t ever gonna remember that, nah. Come help me, I’ll get a round in.” They returned after a few minutes, Nathan placing down two large pitchers of cocktails on the table, the women thanking him, charmed by his generosity. He took a seat, welcoming Holly onto his lap, his hand beginning to smooth up her thigh as he reached for one of the two pints she’d carried out for him.

“Seriously, I really missed you, baby.” He kissed the side of her neck, grinning at her adoringly, Holly feeling her insides melt. Baby. He’d never called her that before.

“So then, how did you meet our lovely friend here, Nathan?” Trina asked, the man himself taking a big swig of beer before placing the glass back on the table. His head was buzzed already from the amount of vodka he’d drunk while over in Ealing, hanging out with the guys from the MC that night before deciding he really, really wanted to see Holly.

“We were in the same class at school,” he began, “and I always fancied her but never had the courage to ask her out. Then she came into my shop and I did the tattoo on her leg, and it all went from there.”

A few coos resounded at hearing that. “Well, you both look very in tune with one another. She’s been singing your praises.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, watching Holly suddenly snort with laughter and hide her face against his neck. “Ahh. I know what you told your friends! She’s been telling you about a certain piercing I’ve got, ain’t she?”

Snorts of laughter filled the air, Kate holding up her hand. “Nope, that was me!”

He couldn’t help himself. “I’ll show you, if you want?”

“You wouldn’t,” Trina teased him, leaning across the table with a big grin.

He matched her lean, grinning widely. “How much do you wanna bet I wouldn’t?”

“Nathan, calm down,” Holly warned, moving his hand when he went to unfasten his jeans.

“Get up a minute,” he spoke, patting her thigh. He wasn’t serious?

“Nath, stop!” she cried, grasping his jaw and turning his head to kiss him, hopefully distracting him. God, he was certainly amped up more than usual.

He chuckled filthily. “Alright, I’ll stop, I'll stop.” He then looked right at Trina. “When she goes to the loo, I’ll show you then, sweetheart.” He winked, accompanying it with a little click of his tongue, sending the women into hysterics. “So, all of you went to UAL too then, yeah?”

They confirmed yes, Nathan seeming to settle and calm down as he asked into their respective careers, being attentive, listening to what each of them revealed. As he did, Holly felt her insides unclench a little after being so taken by surprise at his slightly altered behaviour. He could be a little frisky when he’d had a drink, as could she, but honestly, she was the only thing that had stopped him from revealing himself right there in public. It was very unlike him to act in such a way.

They continued having a good night together, Holly slowing down her alcohol intake a little while he sped his up, everything fine until another behaviour she wasn’t used to seeing in him manifested itself.

“Oi mate!” a man from the next table called, attracting his attention. “How the fuck did a skinny, scruffy, tattooed fuck like you manage to get a girl like her?”

Immediately, his brows furrowed, Holly answering before he did. “Being bloody lovely, is how he did.”

“Don’t think much of your taste, love,” the man remarked, obviously spoiling for something.

“And I don’t think much of your mouth, bruv,” Nathan spoke, glaring at him. “Unless you want it cut to fucking pieces on a glass, I’d watch it if I was you, you gobby fucking gammon cunt.”

“Oi, don’t threaten me, sunshine,” the man pointed, “just having a laugh with ya, yeah?”

“I ain’t stupid, you prick. Nah, fuck that. Weren’t a threat either, it was a promise.”

The man lunged, his friends grabbing him, Nathan trying to move Holly but struggling as she wrapped her arms around him. “Nath, Nathan! Stop it! Just ignore him, he’s pissed and looking for a fight.”

“Sorry, guys,” one of his friends spoke, moving him away. “Your missus is right though, mate. He’s just drunk, he don’t mean it.”

“Yeah?” Nathan snapped, pointing at him. “I fucking do. He looks at me again and I’ll fucking cut him, you understand?”

“Nathan!” Holly exclaimed, feeling her cheeks begin to tingle. Good god, this was so unlike him to be aggressive. He hated fighting, wasn’t one for violence at all, his body rigid with agitation beneath hers. “Look at me, Nath.”

Finally, she had two shards of green fury tear themselves away from the other table, stroking his face as he looked at her. “Calm down. He’s just being a drunken wanker.” It sent the mood at the table crashing down, Holly apologising to her friends, telling them it was best they leave so she could get him out of an environment that cracked with hostility. It was embarrassing to say the least, for them to meet her new guy and have him behave like that, no matter that he wasn’t the instigator.

As soon as she’d gotten him into an Uber, though, he was immediately back to the Nathan she knew.

“Fuck, I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have risen to him like that,” he lamented, grasping her hand. “I'm just a bit pissed and he irritated me. Already feel like you’re too good for me, don’t need some gammon twat pissing rubbing it in, I’m telling you.”

“Is everything okay with you?” she found herself immediately asking. “Because this is all very out of character, and I know I’m still getting to know you, but things aren’t adding up for me. You stopped replying to me, stopped wanting to see me and then you turn up tonight already quite drunk and start acting in a way that just doesn’t fit.”

Glancing down, he sighed, his jaw tightening a little. “I’ll tell you when we get back to yours.”

Her stomach dropped a little there, knowing her intuition wasn’t off, that there definitely something amiss with him. In a way, though, it was relieving as well. This out of character behaviour had a cause, one he was willing to open up and reveal to her. Once back at her flat – and after prising a bottle of bourbon from his clutches – she made them both a coffee instead and sat down on the sofa next to him, Nathan taking a little while to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“Oh, hell upon hell,” he began, scratching the back of his neck. “I hate this. Right, so I filed for divorce just over a fortnight ago, like I said to you I was gonna do when I got that number for the solicitor from you. Lisa hit the pissing roof.”

Sitting there next to him, she could only wonder why. A cold feeling crept over her, that perhaps he was about to tell her that he couldn’t see her any longer, that the reason Lisa had hit the roof was because she wanted them to reconcile. Of course, that made little sense in the face of him being so adamant to meet her that night, but she couldn’t help her thoughts. Keeping silent, though, she sat with patience as he continued.

“It weren’t even because of anything big either, simply the fucking grounds I’d filed it on. Unreasonable behaviour, which she then accused me of and we got into a huge row before I kicked her out the shop. She fucking called me a useless excuse for a man, too, the bitch, and that’s been pissing bugging the life out of me. Yeah, it’s been proper messing with my head ever since and I ain’t been right. Fucking drinking too much, doing things I shouldn’t be doing, avoiding you.”

Watching him continue to scratch, she saw the way agitation corded in his muscles, his arms tense, reaching to stroke his shoulder. “I think that’s understandable, given what she did to you and then turning up like that screaming, saying the things she did. I don’t understand why you’ve avoided me, though. What did I do?”

“That’s the point,” he scoffed. “You did nothing wrong, but I...” He paused, closing his eyes tightly, clutching the sides of his head between his hands. “It’s pissing scaring the shit out of me, for real, how much I like you. Can’t get hurt like that again, Holly. Nah. Can’t let it happen.”

Sliding off the sofa, she crouched before him, taking his face in her hands. “Nathan, I can’t say I’m never going to hurt you, I can’t know that. I might have a bad day at some point in the future and say something regrettable in the heat of the moment because I’m human, but I can tell you this. I’ll never lie to you or deceive you. I’ll never willingly hurt you like she did. I’m not her, y’know. You can trust me, but you’ve got to let yourself trust me. All well and good for me to say, I know that. Give me a chance, though,” she stated, stroking his cheekbones, watching him nodding.

“You might not want me to,” he suddenly snorted. “I’ve been with other girls since we started dating. Trying to convince myself I’m not as fucking into you as I am. Which is stupid, because I legit adore you, Holly.”

She couldn’t say it didn’t make her heart sink unpleasantly to hear that, especially given her own circumstances, but at least he was honest. He’d told her off his own back, which was more than Dean ever had. “We never discussed exclusivity, did we? I won’t lie, it hurts to hear you’ve been with other women, but I still stand by what I just said. We didn’t say we were exclusive. If we had then I’d be punching you on the nose about now.”

He laughed softly through said nose, resting his forehead to hers. “Seriously, nah. You’re so fucking lovely and I’m just this mess of a person, for real. What do you see in me?”

God, Lisa had dented his self-esteem so badly. It was the second comment he’d made that night that reflected as much. “You’re kind, you’re sweet, you’re an absolute god in bed – and yes I told my friends in as many words!” He laughed much louder at that, Holly pausing for a moment. “You make me laugh, you’re fun to be around, you’re interesting and thoughtful, and you’re so bloody talented, too. Oh, and you’re about one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! Look, I can’t say forget about all this damage Lisa did to you and just move on, it isn’t that simple, sadly. At least trust me enough to help you get over it and begin that moving on, though?”

Trust her. But how could he? He’d sank into Eden with Lisa without a second thought, and she’d hurt him more than his fragile heart could truly withstand. What she’d said was right, though. She wasn’t Lisa. If he was to move forward and truly heal from the wreck of his marriage, he knew he needed to find a little trust, or he’d be stuck there forever. He would be exactly all the things his estranged wife had told him he was.

“Dunno how to.” He received a slightly exasperated sigh at that, covering her hands with his. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be difficult, but it’s fucking scary.”

“Okay, I understand that. It’s just a matter of knowing what’s the worst that could happen? You’ve already been there, doesn’t get much worse than that, does it?” His head shake confirmed no. “And there’s a fifty percent chance this thing with us will go beautifully, and you’ll settle and trust you’re safe enough to feel happy, right?” A nod confirmed yes. “So, you have to be brave, and hold onto that fifty percent. If I’m honest, I’d like to say it’s even higher than that, because I’m a bloody catch, you know.”

His smile widened in an instant. “Oh, I fucking know you are, cutie.”

“Next time you feel upset about Lisa, or like you want to dive into a bottle for comfort, call me. Talk to me. Let me be there for you and I promise, I’ll become your comfort rather than the person you’re scared of getting in too deep with. As I should be, if I’m going to be your girlfriend at some point. In case you haven’t realised it, I’d actually quite like to be.”

Oh, he had. The way he kissed her as he lifted her onto his lap confirmed that, too.

#original fiction #original stories #original story #smutty fiction #smutty stories #smutty story #romance fiction #romance stories #romance story

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aneurinallday · 6 months ago

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Green Eyes

Chapter 2: Alec

Thomas was led by the arm through the crowd, past the bar and the stage, towards the back of the club. Even as his eyes scanned for threats, his focus was drawn to the warmth of Green Eyes’ hand. The fringe of long tassels fluttered about the singer’s legs as he walked, the dress rippling with his movements. Something about the way the taffeta clung to his body made Thomas suspect that he was naked underneath.

“This way, Mister Shelby,” he said.

As they went, his grasp slipped further and further down until they were holding hands. Thomas didn’t resist. Maybe he was interested to see what this place had to offer. Or maybe it was just nice to have his hand held.

Green Eyes must’ve felt the ring of Thomas’s finger, because he asked:

“Are you married?”

“I was.”

“Divorced?”

“She died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. Dead wives bring more business to your door.”

Green Eyes was slightly tipsy, and giggled when he shouldn’t have.

“You’re having a good time,” Thomas remarked.

“How can I not? Every night is a celebration.”

They ascended a flight of stairs, and ducked through red curtains into an opulent corridor, lined with plant-pots and nude statuettes. They passed by multiple rooms on either side, hearing snatches of conversation and moans from within, before arriving at Green Eyes’ door.

“Here,” he said.

The room was nicer than Thomas expected, with floral wallpaper and a luxurious rug. Light-bulbs shone through rosy lampshades, giving the room a warm glow. A wash-basin and clawfoot tub stood in the corner, half-hidden behind a painted folding screen which lent the space a certain Orientalist flair. Various dresses hung from a clothes rail, beside which was a vanity table cluttered with cosmetics and perfume bottles. A four-poster bed, surrounded by silk curtains, gave an illusion of elegance to the proceedings.

To Thomas, the solitude was a welcome respite from the noise and heat of the dance floor. The sounds of downstairs still leaked through the floor - ragtime piano punctuated by the occasional boisterous cheer or angry shout - but finally he could hear himself think.

Green Eyes closed the door behind them, released Thomas’s hand, and breathed a sigh of happy relief.

“I’m all yours,” he said

“Strip,” Thomas ordered.

Green Eyes pulled off his dress, confirming Thomas’s suspicion that there was nothing underneath. He had the agile build of a dancer - slim but surprisingly strong.

Thomas took off his black coat in a business-like fashion, revealing the gun that he wore holstered underneath. The young man seemed unfazed.

“Would you like me to sing?” he asked as he kicked off his shoes, “I know loads of songs.”

“No.”

“Are you sure? I’m a good singer.”

“I know. I heard. But no.” Thomas removed his holster and slung it over the bed-post, along with his dark waistcoat.

“Let me help you with that,” said Green Eyes, “Stand still for me.”

They stood eye-to-eye, and the singer began to undress him. With nimble and clever fingers, he unknotted Thomas’s tie. Thomas watched him closely, distrusting the unfamiliar hands so close to his neck. Standing this close, he smelled like summer - flowers and ripe berries. His skin looked smooth and inviting.

“You’ve got nice eyes,” said Thomas. He didn’t intend it as a compliment - just a statement of fact.

“So do you. What’s your name?” Green Eyes asked as he unbuttoned Thomas’s collar. “Your proper one, I mean.”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“I don’t believe so.” The young man shrugged his wide shoulders. “Maybe I did but I forgot?”

Thomas snorted. It was oddly refreshing to meet someone who had no idea who he was - someone who didn’t already fear him before meeting him face-to-face.

“My name’s Thomas. Thomas Shelby.”

“Can I call you Tom?”

“No.”

“Tommy?”

“No.”

Green Eyes’ fingers danced over the buttons on Thomas’s shirt, undoing them one by one. He slid the shirt down and off.

“What do you do for a living, Thomas Shelby?”

“I breed horses and make people bet on them.”

“Do you ride them too?”

“As often as I can.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse. Will you take me for a ride someday?”

“It depends. Are you a fast learner?”

“It depends,” the singer smiled, “Are you a good teacher?”

“Do you always ask this many fucking questions?”

“Only when my clients are interesting.”

He knelt to pull down Thomas’s trousers. Thomas stepped out of them. Green Eyes folded Thomas’s clothes neatly and set them aside.

“There we go,” he said.

“Are you clean?”

“Of course. Mister Cobb has very high standards.”

“Turn around, then.”

The young man obeyed, bending over the bed, waiting expectantly. Thomas spat on his palm and joylessly began to rub himself.

“I can do that for you, Mister Shelby,” said Green Eyes.

“You talk too much.”

“You’re doing my job for me.”

“Be quiet.”

Green Eyes felt silent, but didn’t seem particularly bothered. Clients probably told him to shut up with frequency. Thomas continued to try - with little success - to stimulate himself. The singer watched him over his shoulder for a while, then laughed.

“Come here,” he said. “Don’t be shy, come here.”

Thomas stepped closer, and Green Eyes took him in both hands, skilfully massaging him.

“You’re tense,” he said, kissing Thomas’s chest. “Relax.”

“I’ve had a long day.”

“Well, it’s over now. It’s just you and me.” With an expert touch, he coaxed Thomas to an erection, while Thomas’s breathing grew faster and harder. Losing patience, Thomas pushed his hands away.

“Right, come on.”

He turned Green Eyes around and bent him over the bed, grasping him firmly by the sides. The singer grabbed a fistful of the duvet, his broad shoulder-blades flexing beneath his skin as he braced himself. Thomas entered, eliciting a small, wordless sound in Green Eyes’ throat. He eased in and half-out, in and half-out, listening to Green Eyes’ breathless whimpers, feeling the heat of his heart through his ribs, noticing the freckles on his back and the way his dark hair fell in wayward curls.

For a moment, Thomas almost succeeded - almost felt like he was living in the present.

He remembered Grace, her beautiful limbs and welcoming embrace. Then he remembered the bullet, and the red blood on her blonde hair, and his arousal died instantly.

“Fuck,” Thomas muttered, and withdrew.

Green Eyes looked around.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, smiling to hide the audible worry in his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, it’s not you,” Thomas grunted. His body had set itself on a path he couldn’t diverge from; it was too late to stop now, so he grabbed one of the small towels from the wash-basin and finished into it. He felt thoroughly unsatisfied.

“I know I talk too much - Mister Cobb tells me so,” said Green Eyes sheepishly.

“He’s right, but that’s not the issue.” Thomas wiped himself clean and tossed the used towel aside.

“Why don’t you come here and make me shut up? You can gag me. I like that.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m alright.” Done, Thomas pulled his trousers back on, buckling his belt. “How much do you earn a week?”

“It depends. Mister Cobb charges a lot of money for me, but there’s less of a market for…well, you know how it is. I never know how many clients I’m going to get.”

“And how much of the money do you get to keep?”

“A shilling for every pound,” Alec admitted. “Mister Cobb keeps the rest.”

“Do you live here at the club?”

“No. I used to, but I didn’t like it. It was too noisy, and the clients thought they could do what they wanted even on my days off. So I saved up a shilling a week, as much money as I could, and I got my own place.” He sounded rather proud of his achievement. “Now I rent a little place across the canal.”

“How much is your rent?”

“Eight shillings a week.”

“Here.” Thomas reached into his pocket.

“You don’t need to pay me. Mister Cobb takes care of that.”

“Consider it a tip, then. If Mister Cobb has a problem with it, tell him it’s what the customer wanted.”

“Thank you.”

Thomas placed eight shillings on the dresser, and reached for the rest of his clothes.

“Wait. Stay a little longer.”

“I think we’re done here.”

“Wait!” Urgency entered his languid voice. “If you leave early, Mister Cobb will think I did a bad job. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Does Mister Cobb hit you?”

“He’ll think I disappointed a client,” Green Eyes evaded the question. “I won’t get paid any of the money I earned tonight. Please stay.”

Thomas sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Through the floor beneath his feet, he could hear the band still playing and people still dancing. The young man kissed his shoulder, then his neck, then whispered in his ear:

“Do you want to try again?”

“No. Let’s just wait.”

“Will you lie down, then? Lie down beside me.”

Thomas lay back on the bed, staring up at the canopy. Green Eyes lowered himself onto the mattress at his side, and watched him, his curly head cushioned on his arm. For a while, he simply lay there and looked at Thomas. His green eyes soaked in every detail of Thomas’s profile - his handsome chin, his full lips, his long dark eyelashes - as if Thomas were the most fascinating thing he’d seen in a long time.

Perhaps he was waiting for Thomas to speak first, or perhaps he was arguing some silent debate within himself. Finally, he spoke.

“Well?” he said softly.

“Well what?”

“Don’t you want to know my name too?”

“Not really.”

The singer let out a soft laugh. With idle fingers, he stroked the sunburst tattoo on Thomas’s chest.

“Getting to know people is nice, Mister Shelby. Especially getting to know me.”

“Fine.” Thomas turned so that they lay face-to-face on the bed. “Since you want to share it so badly, tell me your name.”

Green Eyes grinned.

“It’s Alec.”

“Have you got a family, Alec?”

“No. I’m on my own. But I don’t mind it.”

“You like being alone?”

“I like being free. What about you? Do you have a family?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have kids?”

“A son.”

“What’s his name?”

“Charlie.”

“How old is he?”

“Old enough to give me grief,” said Thomas with a curtness that indicated he would speak no further of his relations.

“And how old are you, Mister Shelby?”

“Much older than you.”

“That’s alright.”

“Is it? You were probably still a kid while I was fighting in the war.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Alec’s fingers traced lazy, aimless shapes across Thomas’s chest. “The war was a long time ago.”

“Not for me, it wasn’t. Feels like yesterday, sometimes.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The fighting? No.”

“Mister Cobb was in the army. He says he misses it.”

“Some men do. But I’m not one of them.”

“Was it very hard?”

“At first, yes. Then it got easier. But the easier it got, the less I felt like myself,” Thomas confessed. He wasn’t sure why. Something about those big, inquisitive green eyes made him feel safe.

“I’d never killed anyone before,” he continued, “The first man I killed in the tunnels…well, he wasn’t a man. He was just a boy. A Prussian boy. He had green eyes. Not quite the same as yours, but…”

Alec’s gaze didn’t waver. Suddenly Thomas couldn’t meet it any more. He looked away.

“I should go.” He rose and began to dress briskly.

“Will you come and see me again?”

“Maybe. If I’m in this corner of town.”

“I’d like that.” Alec smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Funny. You actually sound like you mean it.”

“That’s because I do mean it. It was nice meeting you, Mister Shelby.”

“My God,” Thomas marvelled, “You’re a master at this. You say those exact words to every rich fool who comes in here, don’t you?”

“Only the ones I like.”

Thomas chuckled. He finished dressing, and checked that his tie and cuffs were straight.

“Well,” he said, “Either I’ll see you or I won’t.”

With that almost-goodbye, he left. He returned downstairs to find John deep in a bottle and Arthur draped over a woman on the couch. Thomas flicked them over the head.

“Brothers, let’s go.”

Arthur groaned but acquiesced. As the trio headed for the doors, Cobb’s voice cut across the dance floor.

“Everything to your satisfaction, Mister Shelby?” he asked.

“I’ve got no complaints,” Thomas replied.

“Glad to hear it. Come back any time - that boy is yours at a lifetime discount.”

“I’ll remember. Goodnight.”

On the way out, John swiped another bottle off a waiter’s tray, and they shared it with a buoyant glee as they walked out into the chilly January air, down the street and back to the car.

“I’ll drive,” Thomas said.

After returning to the Garrison for a few more drinks, the Shelby brothers parted ways. For Thomas, the journey home felt much longer than it actually was, knowing what awaited him. Nevertheless he endured, driving the familiar roads back to the peace and quiet of the countryside. Back to Warwickshire and Arrow House. Back to young Charles and his accusatory glares. Back to his miserable mansion and cold, empty bed.

#fanfic #aneurin barnard #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #smut #gay #romance #TW prostitution #TW abuse

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im-immortal · 1 year ago

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2023 Writing Wrap-Up

I'm a little late this time around since it's already 2024, but I haven't done a writing wrap-up since 2021 and I thought it would be fun to bring back!

So this year, I was on quite a roll for the first half of the year. And then July rolled around and I started slowing down until it came to a screeching halt. Not sure what happened. Maybe it's my ADHD and constantly shifting hyper-fixations to blame. But I gradually managed to come back around just in time to post something for Christmas, which I'm still working on finishing. However, my hiatus doesn't take away the pride I still have for what I was able to write during the year. And I look forward to writing more in 2024! So here's all I managed to finish/get a good start on and post during 2023.

A Kiss For A Drink: 6,740 words; one-shot I actually started writing this back in 2020 or 2021, intended to be posted on Valentine's Day. And then I got a point where I couldn't finish it and let it sit for about 2 years. I finally came back with some inspiration and motivation and finished it just in time to post for Valentine's Day 2023! I'm really happy with how it came out. It was a fun idea that turned into a fun fic with a few laughs included, even if it is one of my least-viewed fics lol I had fun writing it too, which is all that really matters!

Lunacy Fringe: 62,690 words; 8/8 chapters To say this fic suddenly came out of nowhere would be an understatement. I literally got inspired out of the blue while listening to an episode of the Therapy Gecko podcast and the next thing I knew, I was balls deep in a psychological thriller. I actually managed to write it in just over a month or so!! Which is really incredible for me, especially considering I didn't step away from it at all or lose inspiration before it was finished. I'm really proud of how it turned out, and I haven't really told anyone, but I am working on converting it into an original story and possibly self-publishing. It could end up being my very first original novel :) the feedback I got was far more positive than I'd expected, especially considering how I portrayed Beth. I'm overall so so happy with how it turned out!!

Longer Than A Heartbeat: 157,289 words; 29/29 chapters Now this... this fic is one of my proudest pieces by far. I'll never get over how happy I am with how it turned out, and how I was actually able to finish it. For the last few years, every time I rewatched "28 Days Later," I couldn't stop thinking about how it would make such a good Bethyl fic, and how I wanted to convert it into a Bethyl fic that included Rick and Judith. I finally did it!! Technically, I wrote it in 2022, but I didn't completely finish it and post it until 2023. When I say I write for myself... this fic really proves it, because I go back and read chapters from it all the time just because it's so fun and I love how I wrote it. I was also pleasantly surprised by the reception and how people who hadn't ever watched "28 Days Later" enjoyed it! Not to mention, @boltthrutheheart made some incredible custom manips for me that I can never get over!!

hot girl summer (playing by the rules); 167k+ words, 16/30 chapters Ah yes, here she is... the companion piece to the first 3 fics of "in for a penny, in for a pound" that I've been planning/contemplating ever since I did that first fic from Beth's POV for the series. I always wanted to show Beth's POV for all the major moments in the series, and then once I got started, I figured why not go all in and just do her POV for the entirety of the series thus far? It gives a little more insight into how she's feeling, why she does the things she does and says the things she says, and we also get to see exactly what she was doing all those times that Daryl couldn't help wondering about her (because I already knew in my head, but I thought it might be fun to share with everyone else). I also thought it would make the set-up for the next fic a little better, so we could try and understand Beth's motivations better and where she's at in her head. Of course, I got pretty into it and then hit a speed bump and then suddenly, lost all ability to write. It'll come back soon, though. I can't wait to finish this fic and move on to the next in the series, and eventually conclude Beth and Daryl's tumultuous journey in this fun little AU.

Small Miracles; 39k+ words, 6/10 chapters This is the fic that finally pushed me back into being able to write. I had no plans of writing for BHF 2023, and then I suddenly had this strike of inspiration for a very weird idea and decided to go with it and try and finish it in time to post for Christmas. I did manage to finish about 1/3rd of the fic in time, but I'm still writing it and haven't lost motivation yet, so that's a good sign! It's also just really fun and kind of cathartic to do a new exploration of Beth's journey through the eyes of an older Beth who survived Grady, with that fun little supernatural twist added to it. I can't wait to finish this one, because I've had a lot of fun writing it and really look forward to seeing what people think of her entire journey and the way it will conclude.

To everyone who's read my fics, left feedback, kudos, bookmarks, or even helped me bounce ideas off and come up with plans for fics... thank you so much! I appreciate everyone in this little fandom so, so much. Y'all mean the world to me, and I am so grateful that we have this wonderful community in our own little corner of the internet. Happy New Year to you all, and I hope 2024 brings you nothing but blessings!

#bethyl fanfiction #2023 wrap-up #writing #my year in fanfic #SquishyCool

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galathogwarts · 2 years ago

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The Stars Will Always Shine Here ✰ Chapter 1: Back at Hogwarts ✰

Also on ao3

Chapters Masterlist

Summary: After the events of fifth year, you missed your friends in Hogwarts. You were excited to see them all back, not having to roam the castle all alone. You thought after last year, the rest should be easy. Well … not necessarily. Between nightmares that are hunting you through the nights and the fear of unrequited love from your best friend Sebastian, there are also goblins planning to bring you down and secrets that awaits to be discovered. But you have now something you did not have at the beginning of last year, a strong and loving group of friends who would do anything to make sure you survive this year.

Hey everyone :) welcome to my very first fanfic. Im so excited to share it with you all! So I could not wait to finish it completely before publishing it so hopefully it should be okay. A few quick notes before reading:

Major spoilers for Hogwarts legacy, if you have not completed the game and don’t want to be spoiled continue with cautious.

English is not my main language. I really really wanted to write beautifully and creatively but it is hard to do in my own language, let alone in English. So this won’t have the most engaging or well written story, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

This story will contain all kind of plots. The first chapters are heavily focused on character relationship, especially Sebastian and MC. It might be a little slow until we get to the juicy parts.

I’ve changed some stuff from the main plot, like Sebastian killing his uncle.

Please please please give me feedback! If there is something I can do to make the story better I would love to hear it.

that’s all for now! Enjoy :)

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You felt your legs trembling with excitement as you walked towards the kitchens. It felt as if you were going mad, but you have been thinking about this very day since the beginning of summer.

Today is the day, you thought. The day you will finally see all of your friends back at Hogwarts.

You met some of them during the summer. You spent some weekends at Poppy and her grandmother’s place. Poppy’s grandmother was a nice grey-haired woman who liked telling you stories about a variety of magical beasts. You will forever cherish the cold summer evenings, with her and poppy sitting with cups of hot chocolate under a blanket on the floral sofas. The fire in the fireplace crackled in the background while Poppy’s grandmother told you stories about Unicorns, Puffskeins, Hippogriffs, and Graphorns.

You also joined Adelaide and her uncle a few times, each visit you met them at a different place like Maureween Lake and Poidsear Coast. Sometimes you would camp at different sites, and Adelaide and you would stay up late lying on the grass watching the stars.

You even met Natty before her trip to Uganda, though she had been reluctant to go there since the memories were too painful, she agreed at last. You had a fun day at Hogsmeade, drinking butterbeer and talking endlessly about previous adventures and future ones. After that evening you hugged and cried, declaring you will miss each other ‘very much so’.

But there was a trio you did not have the pleasure of meeting this summer. Oh, how you missed the soft eyes under the light brown fringe, and the kind words Anne has written to you all summer. You also missed the pale boy with the light hair who even though could not see, was the most observant guy you ever had the pleasure of knowing. And oh, how you missed the freckled boy with the playful smile. You missed his brown-eyed gaze, looking at them intently when he spoke. You missed his little gestures that showed he cared about his friends. Just thinking about him made your heart skip a thousand beats.

They have been somewhere with Anne, Sebastian’s great attempt of mending things back with her. Thanks to you, by the end of last year Anne agreed to try to reconcile with Sebastian and work on things, which was what they were doing this summer. Ominis joined them as he was also in the need of reconciliation with Sebastian, though with him it was easier. You did exchange owls with him, and Sebastian sent you postcards from different places he traveled to. But you missed their faces, their voice, their presence.

You reached the entrance of the kitchen, your trail of thoughts cut off.

“Good morning, everyone!” You said cheerily as you entered the kitchen, trying to suppress the feelings of longing to see your friends again. A few house-elves smiled at you and mumbled good morning, while others shot you suspicious looks. House elves did not really trust wizards. You could not blame them, of course. They have been taught to blindly obey their owner’s commands and did not know kindness from wizard-kind.

“You look surprisingly happy today.” Said Laxton, the head house elf. He was shorter than the others, and white short hair covered his head. When you started to come to the kitchen as summer started, he was nice to you. You had to prove yourself to the other house elves but you knew without his approval nobody would even look at you. You appreciated Laxton’s trust, and in return your brought him foraging goods you found in your adventures.

He was a kind house elf who listened to your stories while you helped the elves cook. At first, they declined any attempt of help you offered, but you convinced them cooking soothed you, and it let you do something in this big empty castle. Laxton let you help, and you exchanged stories. You about your friends, and he about his dream to travel around the world one day and taste all kinds of food.

But now, he was staring at you with his big eyes, a smile on his lips. He put a plate in front of you as you sat down.

“I told you I can fetch myself my very own breakfast!” you exclaimed. You knew it is stupid, as for the entirety of last year you ate the food they cooked. But you did not want them serving you when you were here all alone. Besides, now that you had befriended them you felt quite uncomfortable being served by them.

“I know. But today is a special occasion. Are you excited to see all of your friends being back here?” He asked, going back to prepare some things for the evening feast.

You nodded and took a bite from the food, a smile crawling on your face.

Laxton smiled too. “I believe you are excited about seeing a particular boy?”

You suddenly felt your face warming up, and were sure your cheeks were turning red. “W-what?”

“You know, the Sallow boy. The one you spent all last year with, and the one you haven’t quit talking about the entire summer.”

“I-I did not!” You declared. But you did, and knew it very well. Sebastian Sallow has been hunting your thoughts for a very long time now. You fancied him, very much so to be honest, but knew nothing can happen between you two. He probably considers you as a friend and nothing more.

Laxton just smirked “if you insist. Now finish eating and get ready, your friends shall be here before you know it.”

“Sorry, all taken.”

After hearing the door being shut, Ominis sighed. “Sebastian, you cannot banish all first-year students from sitting here.”

Sebastian, who has been spreading on his seat, head under his hands against the window, just smiled to himself. “Sure I can! It is my privilege as a sixth year.”

“No, Sebastian, You don't have a privilege.”

“Oh, but I do.” he argued.

Ominis shook his head in disappointment. “If y/n was here, she would have put you in place.”

The atmosphere changed at the mention of your name, and Sebastian lost all the playful spirit he had seconds ago. His heart skipped a bit. Actually many beats. He has been yearning to see you all summer, but he knew you couldn’t come to visit them. You had not even know where they were, and Sebastian was not going to tell you either. Merlin, he missed you so much. He missed hearing your voice, seeing your bright big smile, your good-humored spirit, the wrinkle around your eyes when she laughed, and your-

Stop it, Sebastian. He thought to himself. Do not cross that line.

But Merlin knows how badly he wanted to.

“You are doing this again.” hummed Ominis.

“Doing what?” Asked Sebastian, his brow furrowed.

“Whenever I mention her name, you go silent for a while.”

Sebastian felt a blush appearing on his cheeks, thanking god Ominis can’t see it. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I just don’t have what to say.”

“Really? The Sebastian Sallow doesn’t have anything to say?”

Sebastian sighed. “I am a man of a few words.”

“Ha!” snorted Ominis.

“I guess I just …” Sebastian felt suddenly shy, a feeling that was very unfamiliar to him. He knew for sure a red color climbed up his cheeks, and he was glad Ominis could not see it. That thought was not much of a comfort though, as he remembered Ominis does not need to look at him to know how he feels.

Why he reacted this way, though? He guessed it was just the fact he hasn’t seen you for months.

“Sebastian Sallow is lost for words. Never thought I would see the day.” Said Ominis, and Sebastian chuckled.

Ominis smiled. “I heard that. It was unintentional.”

“Sure it was.” said Sebastian unbelievably.

“You miss her too, don’t you?”

Sebastian instinctively nodded. Then he said “Yes, I do. Very much in fact.”

“Why exactly didn’t we tell her where we were this summer? And what we have been doing? I mean, she helped you reconcile with Anne last year.”

“I know, and that’s why.” Said Sebastian.

“I don’t follow.”

Sebastian sighed. “She has been engaging in my mess all of last year. And not just mine, any other Buffoon who needed help, she just couldn’t say no. I knew if we get her in she would stress herself out to help us. She just lost professor Fig and she needed a break.”

“Shouldn’t it be her decision? I mean, I am inclined to agreeing with you. But perhaps we should have left the decision for her to make.”

Sebastian scoffed. “I promised myself this year I would keep her safe.”

Ominis smiled. “When will you tell her?”

“I just told you, I’m not-”

“Not about this, about the other thing.”

“What other thing?” Asked confused Sebastian.

“That you are completely and madly in love with her.”

Sebastian was taken aback. He scanned the surrounding before he returned his stare to Ominis who sat in front of him, a sly smile on his face. “I am not-“

“Save it.” Said Ominis lifting a hand up. “You are convincing neither me nor yourself.”

He was right, Sebastian knew that. But he didn’t allow himself to feel this way, not after everything he had put you through. You should be with someone better than him, kinder than him, even if that thought made him feel like dying. But damn, it was hard not to feel that way. Every time you smiled at him, or called him ‘Seb’, he felt his heart skipping a beat without him wanting to.

He was both excited and terrified of seeing you again. And the more the train sped up towards the castle, the latter feeling took over the first.

The day went by so slowly. You kept moving your gaze to the ticking clock but it felt as if it wasn’t moving at all. Maybe it was the anticipation that made time moves like someone casted Arresto Momentum on it.

At last, the evening finally crept by and you heard the carriages bringing the students towards the castle. You were already in the great hall, waiting to welcome your friends.

And finally, after a few moments there they were. You saw Poppy and Adelaide talking and laughing, but they stopped when they saw you. They ran towards you and you wrapped them both into a hug.

“I missed you, girls!” You said to your dorm roommates, who were your true friends since last year. The room felt so empty without them, and the nights were so much more boring without your late-night talking. You were so excited to not wake up to an empty room the next morning, or fall asleep to the sound of complete silence.

“We missed you too!” Said poppy.

“So so much!” Added Adelaide.

You let go of the hug and looked at your friends. “It was really boring here without you.”

Adelaide smiled. “It was boring without you too. I was so excited when you came to spend the weekend with me and my uncle. He is still very fond of you since you saved him last year.”

You blushed. “It was nothing.”

“It was not nothing. And I’m so grateful for your help. But why didn’t you come to stay with us for the whole summer? I told you, you are more than welcome.”

You smiled shyly. Truth be told, you did not want to feel like a burden, like a lost girl who has nowhere to be. No parents, no mentor … No, don’t think about Professor fig. You said to yourself the thing you told yourself all summer long. It was too painful.

“I know, and I’m thankful. But Hogwarts feels like a home to me.”

“Well, my grandmother was very happy you came to visit us too. And you know you will always have a home at our place.” Said Poppy and squeezed your hand.

You teared up. “Come on, girls. I swore to myself I wouldn’t be a crybaby today.”

“Oh, did you now? Making promises you can not keep?” Said a voice from behind Poppy. You froze in motion, scared to move your gaze toward the person who was speaking. You did at last, and saw a familiar smile, messy oak hair and a pair of brown eyes looking at her playfully. Oh, I could stare at his eyes all day. You felt your heart beating strongly against your chest. You could not resist the urge, and let your legs lead you to where he was standing, and when you reached him, you slid your hands around his waist pulling him into a hug.

You laid your head on his shoulder, as you couldn’t stop the tears from coming. You were yearning to feel the comfort of his warmth, the welcomeness his arms offered you quite a lot of times last year. He hesitated for a moment before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. He definitely grew taller this summer, and more muscular.

“I missed you.” You said with barley a whisper.

He gulped. “Me too, crybaby.”

You released him from the hug and hit his arm jokingly. “Shut it, I’m being emotional over here.”

He held his arm as if actually hurt, but smiled at you.

You looked to his left and saw Ominis, and then started to whale again. You wrapped your arms around him and cried “Ominis! I missed you too!”

After a minute, Sebastian started to peel off your hands from around Ominis. “Hey now, don’t choke him. We do want him to make it to the seventh year.”

“I missed you guys so much!” You exclaimed and brought your hands together.

“We did too.” Ominis smiled at you.

“I’m starting to forget why...” Joked Sebastian.

You hit his arm again, playfully.

“Ouch! You became strong.”

She smiled. “I had some training last year.”

Sebastian couldn’t help himself. All of the talking and convincing he did all summer went out of the window when he saw you, and when you wrapped your arms around him.

Oh, how he missed your smile, the smell of the meadow you had from spending time in the forest. You also smelled like Vanilla, which he guessed was from the time you spent in the kitchen during the summer as you mentioned in one owl. Ominis was right. He hated the fact that he was, but he can’t deny it. He was absolutely, completely, and madly in love with you.

“How is Anne?” You asked, bringing him back to reality with a tender voice. “We exchanged owls for a bit this summer but I didn’t want to bother her too much.”

“You didn’t. She was actually ecstatic whenever she got an owl from you.” Said Sebastian. “She is good, as much as possible.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you find-“

“I told you,” Sebastian stopped you. “Don’t apologize, you have done more than enough.”

You nodded but he could see you were not convinced. He was right though, you had done more than enough. You got yourself involved in dark magic, which you were repelled by and tried so hard to stay away from. You hated dark magic, but you did anything for him, including believing in him that he would make the right decision in the end.

And he let you down. Only thanks to you, things did not go downhill completely.

“Well, I’m excited to start the new year!” You said smiling. “The castle felt so empty without any of my friends.”

“I knew you would miss me.” Said a voice and Garreth Weasley appeared a moment later.

That guy. Thought Sebastian. He had to watch you and him whispering and giggling in potions class all of last year. It was unbearable. He felt like Garreth casually flirted with you, as he himself did, which scared him more since he did it because he had feelings for you. He suspected Garreth had feelings as well, but he hoped with every ounce of his body he was wrong.

“Garreth!” You exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically if you ask him, and wrapped your arms around him too.

Garreth smiled and returned your hug. “Missed you, potion partner.”

She smiled after she broke the hug. “Me too.”

Don’t be jealous, Sebastian, he told himself. You don’t have the right to.

But Merlin, it was stronger than him. His emotions always were.

“Any hugs left for me?” Said Natty.

You gasped and a moment later hugged her tight. “Natty I missed you! I haven’t seen you all summer! How was your trip?”

“Very fun, and very interesting. I missed all of you though.”

“We did too! Come on, Poppy and Adelaide are over there, they would be so happy to see you.” You said and took Natty by the hand towards the two Hufflepuff girls.

“So, Sebastian,” said Garreth. “I heard you are Slytherin’s seeker this year too.”

“I am. And the best one if may I add.”

“Don’t be too cocky now. I am the captain of Gryffindor, and sorry to tell you, but we will have no mercy for you. This year the cup shall belong to Gryffindor.”

Sebastian smiled. “In your dreams, Weasley.”

“My dreams often come true, Sallow.”

“Alright everyone!” Said the principal. “Take your sits by the table, the sorting ceremony will start soon.”

Later that night, you sat on your bed while brushing yout hair. Poppy folded some of her clothes and sorted them into different piles while Adelaide laid down in hers, fiddling with her wand.

“I’m so happy you girls are here, it was quiet without you.”

“We are happy too!” Said poppy, smiling. “I missed you girls, and this place.”

“So y/n, speaking of our late-night talks, how are things going with Sebastian Sallow?” Asked Adelaide.

You blushed. You remembered the way you talked about him last year, and the night you finally admitted to her roommates you have a crush on the Slytherin boy.

“There is nothing going, really.”

“Why not?” Said Poppy, pouting. “I’m pretty sure he returns your feelings.“

“Well, I’m not. Not really. And he is busy with his sister I just don’t want to add more to his plate.”

“We just want you to be happy.” Said Adelaide.

You smiled. “I know. And I am. Those feelings will probably go away.”

“If you say so.” Said Poppy, unconvinced.

“They have to.” You whispered so low, only she could hear.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you woke up to the sound of Adelaide’s and Poppy’s voices.

“Are you okay?” Asks Poppy nervously.

Adelaide started patting your brow with a towel. “My poor girl, you are sweating.”

“What happened?”

“You started mumbling and then crying,” when Adelaide said it, you instinctively moved your hand to your cheeks, feeling a wet trail of tears. “And you sounded terrified.”

You sighed. “They are back.”

“What?” asked Poppy, a confused look on her face.

“Since professor Fig died, I have been having nightmares. They were absent for a while now, but it seems they have returned.”

“Nightmares?” Asked Poppy, shocked.

“Don’t worry, at least this time I don’t remember them. Most of the time they are so vivid, they burn in my head.”

“Blimey! It … sounds dreadful, y/n.” Said poppy.

“Oh, well … just one of the numerous side effects I guess.” She was frustrated, but did not want to keep the girls up for too long. They did not look as if they were going to let it go so smoothly, though.

“y/n, you have to do something about those.” Said Adelaide, sitting beside you and petting your back.

“Don’t worry,” you smiled at your friends. “I shall go to the hospital wing tomorrow. Perhaps the nurse will have a fix for me.”

“Okay.” nodded Poppy. “Can we do anything else for you? for the moment being?”

You just shook your head. “No, thank you though. Let’s all just go to sleep and try and get some rest.”

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Hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 coming very soon because Chapter 1 is the weakest I have written and I'm excited about the next one <3

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader

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leebrontide · 1 year ago

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Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 13

Here's this week's chapter! Reblogs welcome!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For an index of already uploaded chapters that hopefully I will remember to update, content warnings and more, check here:

You can follow along by following #SHOSweekly

Chapter 13

Opal had no idea how to bring up the day’s revelations to the tower kids. Yael wasn’t even back yet, but Issac was absorbed in his tablet, obviously hard at work for his evil overlord, with a stack of energy drinks on the coffee-table-slash-trunk. Jamie was perched on the back of one of the couches, watching the news.

Opal didn’t know what to do, so she settled on pulling out her gym clothes. They needed washing. Somewhat urgently. She’d have to head back to the laundromat soon.

Did she even need these? If she wasn’t going to be a superhero, she didn’t need to train to fight.

Plodding footsteps heralded Yael’s arrival, sweaty and slouching so badly xe was almost a normal person’s size. Xe closed the door behind xyr, then slowly lay down on xyr back on the concrete floor. “I hate heat.”

Jamie climbed over the sofas towards xyr while Issac got up and went to the fridge. Opal cocked her head to the side. It was completely gross outside. But-- “Don’t you have literal ice powers? Like, aren’t you pretty much immune to heat?”

“Only when my exoskeleton is out. Otherwise, heat is my nemesis.”

“I thought you said cars were your nemesis.” Yesterday, xe’d had to ride here in the back of Aldis’s truck. Xyr larger-than-life frame didn’t fit in the cabin.

“Heat. Cars. Also diet pop and actual evil.”

Issac strolled over and handed a huge Gatorade to Yael, who took it wearily. Well, if Yael’s genetic lineage was secret, xe couldn’t walk around all silver, could xe? Even if refraining meant risking dehydration or heatstroke or something.

Yael shoved xyrself up, leaving a surprisingly complete puddle, and chugged the whole drink in one go. Oh, the joys of Midwest summers. Xe lay back down, and turned xyr head towards Opal. “I need a pizza and a break before we train. Ugh, I miss the pool.”

The VIP suite itself was fully air conditioned and humidity-controlled-- the building housed delicate antiques, and any VIP suite residents got the same thing as a fringe benefit. Yael would cool down soon. There was a bigger concern. “Do we need to train?”

Yael looked at Opal, and then sighed, closing xyr eyes. “Well, I still need lessons…?” Everybody looked at Issac.

He made a face. “You guys can obviously talk to me with the contacts in. Why would you bother?”

Jamie answered. “Because you obviously hate them. Plus, you can’t wear them all the time. I don’t think you should be sleeping in them.”

Oops, had he been? She hadn’t noticed. He seemed like someone who didn’t read the instructions. “Oh, you should definitely not be sleeping in those,” Opal agreed wearily. “One eye patch is cool. Two eye patches, less so.”

Yael piped up with a serious tone from xyr floor puddle. “It has puns. American Sign Language has built-in puns.”

“I am not tempted by puns,” Issac objected with an attempt at contempt.

“Liar,” Jamie answered promptly.

Ah-ha. So puns were the key. “The sign for ‘pasteurized’ is the sign for ‘milk’ passed in front of your eyes.” She demonstrated. He tried so hard not to smirk. Bless his heart.

She liked these guys. Even Issac. That made this all that much harder. “Look,” Opal continued, “I’ll help if you want, while I’m still in Chicago. But it’s up to you.”

Jamie, who unfortunately was still adorable by the bright light of day, watched her sadly. “You’re really leaving?”

Yael put xyr hands over xyr eyes and made a rough and sudden noise of frustration. Opal startled. Issac scowled, probably trying to figure out if his contacts were mistranslating or not. Jamie leaned over the back of the couch.

Yael sat up with a sweeping gesture. “But you’re good! You’re brave and selfless and moral!” Xyr voice was raising, and xyr eyes looked suspiciously shiny. “If you’re quitting--”

Opal was beyond startled by Yael’s vehemence. “It doesn’t mean you can’t--”

“Yes it does! You’re a real hero! You were gonna fight Ezekiel, by yourself with no support, to save a girl you didn’t even know! If you think the APB is too corrupt-- and you know more about what they’re doing than I do--”

Well, one benefit of giving up her lifelong dream was that she wouldn’t have to worry about how mad Helix would be if Opal accidentally talked Yael out of being a superhero. LodeStar had been waiting for Yael to replace him. Now, maybe xe never would. Opal hoped she hadn’t just made things worse.

Issac attempted to console his sibling. “Yael, you’ve been studying the APB since you were like eight.”

“But I didn’t know anything about the prison, not really--”

“The prison,” Issac interrupted, standing a little straighter, “isn’t exactly what it sounds like.” He shot a challenging look at Opal. “They hired me-- and at a very competitive rate, by the way-- to help with rehabilitation.” He looked at his siblings. “You know what that brain injury did to Jenna. Lasansky wants to treat the inmates with head injuries, so they can go back home. Be safe to join society.”

Bull. Shit. “Nuh-uh. No way,” Opal challenged immediately. “They don’t give a crap about the health of the people stuck in there.”

“They care about recidivism,” Issac answered with a tinge of triumph he had not earned. “Preventing second offenses.” Such bullshit.

Yael dragged xyrself back up unenthusiastically. “Nodiah does care about that. He was so angry about the pilot having been recently released early from his sentence.”

Opal’s mouth dropped open. “Early release?” Opal repeated. “That’s-- they never even do that!” She’d never heard of anyone getting out early. If anyone should qualify for that, it should be her daddy. Her nails dug into her palms.

Yael tilted xyr head to the side. “Really?” Opal nodded stiffly, and xe frowned. “But the pilot…Eustus whatever-his-name-was…he was released early. And he has to have come from the Detroit prison.” Yael’s eyes went wide with horror. Xe looked at Issac. “Could Lasansky afford a jet?”

Opal didn’t wait for Issac to answer or to figure out what Yael was talking about. “Yes. They make a fortune off government contracts and prison labor. They’re loaded.”

Yael took a deep, slow breath, gears clearly turning in xyr head. “OK. Nodiah told me Lasansky is a suspect. For something. He’s being investigated-- I thought it was because he’d hired Issac-- but he had access to the pilot, he had access to a jet…what if Nodiah thinks he’s the mastermind behind the attack on the tower?”

“The news said they couldn’t figure out how the pilot had access to a jet,” Jamie added cautiously.

Opal looked at Issac-- the one injured, and the one working for the maybe-suspect. Issac was already shaking his head, but one hand was drifting up to his ear, and he looked haunted. “No. No, guys, you’re being paranoid. Lasansky’s got no reason to want to blow us up, or deafen me, or any of this. Without superheroes, he’d be out of a job. None of you even trust Bridgewater. Even if Bridgewater does think that, it doesn’t make it true. If more people are getting put in prison than they should, it’s on Bridgewater, not Lasansky.”

As if it had to be one or the other. Opal looked at Yael. “What did Bridgewater actually say when he saw you today?”

“Mostly it was a bunch of stuff about needing to look good in front of people and…”

“And?”

“…and making sure to separate Issac from Lasansky before--” Xe winced. “Before he gets too much blood on his hands.”

Opal felt a chill.

Issac snapped, “I am trying to help people!” Opal jumped. She recognized his defensive, angry posture from when he yelled at his mom. This really got under his skin. He almost looked on the verge of crying. And since he wasn’t planning to use his creepy tiny robots on himself…he must really be thinking about what they could someday do for other people. Jamie put a hand on his shoulder.

So Issac was trapped between two powerful men who Opal loathed. The demonstrably horrible jerk who profited off of other people’s forced prison labor, and the demonstrably horrible jerk who was funneling people into Lasansky’s hands. But it didn’t make sense. “Why would those two even be fighting? They’re a perfect parasitic match.”

Her answer came in disorienting surround-sound from all their phones and tablets. “I have an idea.” It was Martin. “The APB just released some press about a new bill being proposed by Secretary Bridgewater on Monday. He is calling it an ‘anti-recidivism’ measure, and it’s aimed at reducing the number of superheroes and prison beds required.”

“What’s the bill?” Jamie asked.

Silence. Issac frowned. “Martin? You there?”

Martin was quiet, apologetic. “It’s a ‘reform’ to sentencing laws for altereds. It…would make any violent crime eligible for the death penalty. In some cases it could be retroactively applied.”

Daddy. It felt like being kicked right through her ribs.

Officially, he was “dangerous.” A violent criminal. No. She felt a crashing tsunami-swell of anger as she spun towards Yael. “Your uncle’s trying to kill my dad!” She knew this wasn’t under Yael’s control. That the feeling of betrayal welling up inside her was unfair. Yael didn’t even go on the defense. Xe just stood there, shoulders slumped-- looking as helpless as Opal felt, but without matching Opal’s fury.

Opal didn’t know what to do with her rage. She could see the glinting reflections of the fear, anger, and pain lighting her skin refracting off the tears in her eyes. She’d come here to protect her dad and the others like him. Now things were getting even worse, and she couldn’t do anything about it.

She’d been planning to give up, and this was what happened. She’d been so busy worrying, she hadn’t even had time to feel ashamed yet of giving up on him when she gave up on being a superhero.

She hadn’t thought his life was on the line. Not like this.

A butterfly-light touch connected with Opal’s shoulder. Jamie, offering an invitation with an open arm. It gave Opal a path to move along. Jamie was still sitting on the back of the couch. She folded herself around Opal in a protective embrace. Opal tried to get herself settled, but really, she didn’t want to let go of this anger, or this fear. They were real and just, and she wouldn’t recognize herself if she couldn’t feel pain like this. Opal could feel a fast, fluttering heartbeat in Jamie’s neck. Jamie, upset by the injustice, or by Opal’s pain. Opal didn’t care which, in that moment. She put one hand on Jamie’s back and pulled her closer. Not to soothe, but to center herself. To feel she wasn’t the only one feeling. Jamie held her tight.

What would happen when Shani heard about this? Or her mom? Did Daddy know?

Issac’s nanites were supposed to affect Issac’s hearing. And they were supposed to go to Lasansky. Who would they test them on? She didn’t think for a second they cared about head injuries. She didn’t know what they wanted them for. But her deaf daddy would make an obvious target for testing. For them to pretend they were helping. Never mind that Daddy wouldn’t want that help. That he didn’t want or need to be fixed.

They said Issac’s nanites had almost killed him. Who would be there to save her dad?

“It’s just a bill--” Issac started.

Opal drew up out of Jamie’s arms to whirl on him. He flinched and put up his hands, but he held his ground. “I mean it’s not a law. Not yet. People will be fighting this. Lasansky will be fighting this.”

“You think he cares? Do you know how many people die in there--”

Issac shook his head vehemently. “He gets paid per prisoner. This could wipe out his business. You don’t have to trust him at all to trust that he cares about his bottom line.”

“That’s motive,” Jamie interjected, as if the words startled her. “Bridgewater was in our house, the morning of the attack. We weren’t the target. He was. To keep him from proposing his bill.”

“Exactly,” Martin agreed.

“But Nodiah is fine,” Yael objected. “If Lasansky had tried and failed to assassinate him, then why is he still here, hiring alienated bioengineers instead of getting away?”

“Overconfidence? Greed?” Jamie suggested.

“Or he still thinks he can get it to work.” Opal looked at Issac. “Which would mean he has a new plan. Probably one that involves a desperate and alienated bioengineer.”

“Firstly, everybody stop calling me that. And secondly, he hasn’t asked me to kill anybody, I promise.”

“Hasn’t he?” Jamie asked. “Issac, your nanites. They almost killed you.”

“But they didn’t.”

“Because I was there. But if you wanted to use them to kill somebody, wouldn’t they be perfect for it? Nobody at the clinic could find any trace of them. Even after I told them what happened.”

He looked down at his tablet, which Opal now realized had that stupid little thumb drive she’d given him plugged into the side.

“Perfect for assassination,” Yael agreed, darkly.

Martin surrounded them again. “With a little modification they could mimic stroke, cause a coma, or even dementia. I suspect a little further development could make them ideal for torture.”

Opal felt sick. “So you just handed a perfect murder weapon to him.” And Opal had handed it to Issac. Oh, God. She’d made it worse. She’d made everything so much worse. She’d just been trying to help out.

Her attention was glued to Issac as he slowly pulled the drive out of his tablet. “I haven’t sent it yet. I was still securing the connection.” He looked haunted. Good. Let him take this seriously. He looked up. “I actually do care about safety. I do get that-- I just wanted to help people!��

What could she say to that? She really did think he wanted to help. He was naive, but he wasn’t cruel, and he seemed to try not to be careless. She held his eyes with her own. “Then you can help by making sure he doesn’t get that data.”

“This is all speculation,” he answered, glancing away. She bit her tongue. He wasn’t really arguing anymore. He was just turning the drive over in his hands.

“We need more information,” Jamie agreed.

The fight went out of Yael. “He’s being investigated.”

“By Bridgewater,” Opal growled. So, great, even if they beat Lasansky, the APB would get the thumb drive. The same APB that was trying to kill her daddy.

Opal hadn’t realized Jamie was still holding on to her until Jamie’s hand balled into a fist on Opal’s sleeve. Jamie’s voice was quiet, but solid. “Then we should do something.”

Jamie had suddenly turned Opal’s despair into something else-- something fragile, bright, and terrifying. They all knew this moment from every story about every hero. The moment when you decided to be a hero, or a bystander. To commit completely or walk away. Either way, she’d have consequences to answer for.

If they did this-- if Opal did this-- she’d be making herself vulnerable to the same vigilantism charge that lost her her daddy. The same charge that might cost him his life. Even if they won-- even if they saved the day, Opal could still wind up dead. Dr. Tillman promised Opal legal protection. But that was conditional on Opal guarding her kids. Joining them to guard others-- that was no guaranteed pass.

But these three were who she had here. Jamie was tiny, Yael had already attacked one superhero, and Issac was the root of this whole thing. The four of them weren’t exactly the Sentinels, but she trusted that each of them cared about doing the right thing. And at the moment, the right thing was about protecting Issac’s invention from evil usage, and exposing Lasansky.

It was what Opal had already pledged her heart to. Just like her daddy, she had to do the right thing, and hope her family would forgive her if it all fell apart.

“We have the data,” Opal said. “We have the thing Lasansky wants, the thing that has to be kept out of the wrong hands, right here. Nobody else has that.”

Issac looked down at the flash drive. He looked sick. “Bad guy bait.”

Opal nodded. “Maybe I’m not going to be a superhero. Maybe none of us are.” She glanced at Yael, who said nothing. “But I don’t trust the APB and I don’t trust Lasansky. I trust all of you. And I think, together, we can make sure this ends here. That nobody else has to get hurt. If you’ll help me.”

“I’m in,” Jamie said immediately. Opal put her hand over Jamie’s hand, still on Opal’s arm. Jamie wasn’t altered, but conviction and courage had to count for something. And Jamie had both in spades.

Issac messed up his hair. “Oh, this is so stupid... Fine. I’m in. If I’m going to tank my career at eighteen, at least I’ll be sure my tech doesn’t hurt anybody. Else.”

Just Yael left-- the one with the most to gain from the APB. The strongest of them. Xe watched the thumb drive in Issac’s hand. Xe was silent for long enough, Opal started to wonder what Yael would do if xe decided not to go along with this. Would xe call Nodiah? Yael’s voice was quiet and xyr hands gleamed silver when xe answered. “Superhero or not, I want to protect people. If we can do what the APB can’t, what our family can’t, then I’ll do what I can.”

“Then I think I have the start of a plan.”

* * *

Jamie set up the tablet on the coffee table and sat back on the couch. She should make the call before she had a chance to second-guess.

She never had called home, this morning. Apparently, this was the push she needed.

If Mom was talking to her, she would tell Jamie that she was in a strong position to negotiate right now. Dad had to have realized he'd messed up. He had to know he’d crossed the line.

Did he think Jamie had crossed the line, too?

Jamie glanced over to Yael, who was stretching on the concrete floor. Preparing for a fight. Yael wasn’t mad at Jamie, as far as Jamie could tell. But Yael hadn’t actually gotten hurt.

Opal leaned a hip on the back of the couch. She looked grim, with violets and green flashing in her skin. "Couldn't you call Capricorn or Helix instead? I think that’d be easier."

It would be easier. But it wouldn't get the questions Jamie needed answered, answered. "It'll be fine," Jamie assured, her voice hollow. "Besides, he's in charge of the team."

Opal chewed her lip and leaned over the couch. “I hate that I’m the one telling you guys this…but according to Capricorn, LodeStar isn’t in charge anymore. He’s a figurehead. Capricorn says he’s been giving the orders for a while, now.” Jamie frowned as Opal licked her lips, looking at each of them. “He said that the reason LodeStar’s so messed up is because his joints are pretty much destroyed. Even before yesterday, his shoulders and spine and everything were a mess. And he’s taking serious narcotic painkillers pretty much non-stop. My mom told me that for that to work on someone with an altered’s metabolism, he’d have to be popping them like candy to keep them in his system.” She shifted, uncomfortable. “I thought that you all deserved to know.”

Jamie’s mind went blank. It was as if Opal was speaking a language Jamie didn’t know.

Dad was one of the top superheroes in the country-- a force of nature. He could shatter stone under his feet, fly, and was even immune to aging. Painkillers were for pain. Why would someone as strong as him ever need them?

But Opal wouldn’t lie. Drew would never make up something like that.

And it fit Dad perfectly, didn’t it? She didn’t think any amount of pain would make him stop. He’d never complain. He would always keep fighting, no matter what. And if he had to take something for that pain, he’d do it quietly. He wouldn’t want to draw attention to it. Just like how Issac hated the text on his eyes being visible. Don’t draw attention to weaknesses, as if they mattered. Just keep going.

No matter what.

Jamie’d known there was something. She’d known it. She never would have guessed this, but something was wrong.

Jamie could tell this was as shocking to Yael and Issac as it was to her. She watched empathy and anger brawl in Yael’s eyes. She could see Issac mentally scanning years of memory-- testing this new information against his experiences, checking for a fit.

Jamie’s pocket sighed with Martin’s voice. “Thank you, Opal.”

That put an end to any doubt.

Jamie attempted a smile for Opal. “Thanks. I think I needed to know that.” Opal nodded back. Jamie just wished she had time to really process this before she talked to Dad.

She could call Drew, instead of her dad. Opal had just given her the perfect excuse. But that still wouldn’t get her all the answers she needed.

Jamie re-prepared herself, drawing herself up. "OK, everybody else stay out of the frame. I don't want him to get distracted."

Issac sat on his bed, knees up and elbows braced on them, glowering. "I don't understand any of this."

"Yes, you do," Jamie countered, looking back at the screen. "You just don't like it."

Her stupid heart was speeding up. Was she scared of him? No. She refused. "OK, Martin. Call him, please."

Martin put the call through. It rang. And rang.

Jamie stayed put as the others paused their preparations to turn and look as it kept ringing. As he kept not answering.

That scared her.

She was about to tell Martin to hang up with the screen flickered on.

At first, she didn't understand what she was seeing. Dad sat in the center of his couch, dimly illuminated by the screen of the TV he was watching her on. The blinds were drawn, and only thin slices of light sketched the space behind him. Something was off about the shape of him-- unshaven, wearing a bathrobe and pajama pants, watching her with that grave, motionless intensity.

One sleeve of his robe hung flat, empty. The front of his robe was open enough, she could tell his arm wasn't in a sling against his chest.

It was gone. Like Jenna's. And like Jenna's, it hadn't been designed to come off. Jamie could see black and red bruising creeping up his neck from the shoulder, and the edges of a cast’s network at the edge of his robe.

She remembered the sound of cracking. They must have taken his arm off because his collar bone was...just that shattered. His body couldn't support his metal arm anymore. In all the fights he'd been in, that had never happened before. Jamie's eyes tracked back to Yael. Yael had done to LodeStar what no supervillain had ever managed to do.

No, that wasn't true. It was Dad's right arm, gone. A supervillain had destroyed his original right arm before Jamie'd been born. And both his legs. How many times had he been taken apart, in his life?

"Jamie," Dad said. His voice was tight, clipped. Angry? Or just in pain?

She couldn't read him, and had no idea how he was reading her. She'd have to hope words would do the job anyway. "I need backup," she told him, as matter-of-factly as possible.

She could see him try to sit up straighter. Now she knew to watch more closely. While nothing else in his face shifted, his pupils contracted in pain at the movement. "What happened. What do you need?"

"Issac took a job with Lasansky Securities International. He didn't know they were under investigations for the attack on the tower. But we think they’re trying to weaponize Issac’s nanites, and that Lasansky tried to kill Bridgewater to prevent him from introducing this new bill."

"I can be there in ten minutes--" Dad started.

"Dad, no. Listen. We have a plan. Issac is going to try and get him to confess. And we can get it on security cameras. I'm calling you because we want the team standing by just in case everything goes wrong, and to make arrests at the end. But we want you to wait, Dad. You need to give us a chance to get this done. Without the APB jumping in."

"You can't be serious--"

"Yes, I can!" she held up her gauntleted wrist. "You gave me this. This was your idea. Because you know that if there's a problem I can fix, I'm always going to try. And this means I can help. So I'm going to. Even with how you acted yesterday, I still trust you, so I called you. I didn't have to! We have Opal and Yael. We could have just done this ourselves. But we wanted you to help us make a perimeter. Because your home and your family got attacked, too. I...I know you want to help.” Even though his body wanted to quit, Dad wanted to keep going. Keep helping. Jamie understood that.

“This isn’t what I meant. I meant for you to defend yourself. Not set up a problem deliberately. The professionals can handle this.”

“Well, they haven’t yet. Lasansky is going to underestimate us. Just like everyone always does. And Issac has what Lasansky wants. If you come in before we have a chance to help, Issac might wind up getting arrested along with Lasansky.”

That was what it took for Dad to allow pain to show on his face. His left hand came up, rubbing over his face. “This isn’t what I--”

“Will you help us, or not?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” he nearly snapped.

“Then make sure Lasansky doesn’t get away, and come in if we need you.”

“Yael and Issac agreed to this?”

Issac grunted and shoved himself upwards, stalking around to lean in behind Jamie, where Dad could see. “I made a mess, so I’m fixing it. Jeez, Dad.” Jamie felt Issac stiffen as he got a look at Dad for the first time. Hearing that Dad was hurt and seeing him like this were not the same.

Yael stayed off camera, reaching out to xyr toes, on the floor. Xyr tone was curt. “You’ve been training me for this my whole life. If I don’t protect people from dangerous altering tech, what was the point?”

Expressions too cloudy for Jamie to decipher slid across Dad’s face as Yael spoke. Even if things worked, and they all went back to make sure Martin was secure, there would still be a lot of work to do.

“What about that other altered girl? Where is she.”

Opal slid in beside Jamie, chin up and shoulders back. “I’m right here, Mr. Voss. And I wouldn’t have come to Chicago if I wasn’t willing to do what I could to prevent dangerous technology from being used on innocent people. This is exactly what I came here to do.”

Dad let out a long, low breath. “Your mother is going to hate this. I hate this. But fine. I’ll back you up.”

Everybody used to say that Jamie was just like her dad. As they’d drifted apart, she’d stopped believing it. This was what it took for her to feel that connection again.

Dad was one-armed, fresh from surgery, and probably in worse pain than Jamie had ever experienced. If he was taking painkillers that could cloud his mind, it was because the pain was bad enough to do worse. But he didn’t want to quit. He probably didn’t know how. Just like Jamie.

“Not you.” Finally, her voice sounded like she’d always wanted it to. Sure, clear, and steady. The soprano version of his. Her heart rate slowed, and something in her centered for the first time.

It was like she’d been looking in a fun-house mirror her whole life, and had just now figured out that the real world was right behind her. Dad was a mess. He was just struggling to cope. So was Mom with her missing nails, and Solomon with his hiding. And Drew, keeping other people’s secrets when he knew better.

“Dad, you’re in no shape. Send Drew and Solomon. They’ll be enough.”

In another time and place, Dad’s shocked reaction would have been funny. Not much shocked him. “I’m not going to sit by while my kids--”

“You need to take care of yourself,” Jamie said, her words rock-solid enough to quiet him, at least for a second. “You’ve been doing this for too long. Drew told us what’s going on with you. Yesterday, you stepped over the line. If you can’t control yourself, then you need to sit this out. Send the others, but I don’t want you here.”

Dad was stunned. Warm fingers interlaced with Jamie’s, and Opal squeezed Jamie’s hand, down where he couldn’t see them. Jamie kept her eyes on her dad’s.

It hurt him. But it needed saying. All her life, he’d kept Jamie from hurting herself by over-reaching. Now, he needed the same thing. Issac leaned over the back edge of the couch, and when Dad’s eyes flitted to Issac for a moment, Issac nodded, backing her up.

But he looked squarely to Jamie when he conceded with a tight voice, “I’ll send Solomon and Drew.”

Jamie nodded. She nearly hung up, right then. But guilt gnawed at her. There was always a chance this plan could go wrong, with too much left unsaid.

“Dad, I’m not sorry about pulling the gauntlet out, yesterday. But I’m not scared of you. I want you to know that.”

His eyes softened, just a little. Maybe as much as they could. “Thank you, Pumpkin. I’ll see you when all this is over.”

Jamie smiled back. There was too much to do for her to be happy, but finally, she felt like she had her dad back. “I’ll see you then.”

* *

Issac’s attention flipped to Yael as Jamie’s screen went dark. “Well, congratulations. You’re the first altered to take LodeStar out of commission for an indefinite amount of time in like twenty years.”

Xe sat up. YAEL: What?

“They took his arm off. Because you fucking shattered his clavicle.” He hated this. He hated this more than anything. The whole family was going down in flames. He wasn’t supposed to have to see this. “Maybe he’ll get a crate of his own. We can store Jenna’s with the Christmas decorations and Dad’s with the Hanukkah supplies.”

It wasn’t fair to be mad only at Yael. He knew that. Xe wouldn’t have done that without having some kind of reason. But it was hard to face. Yael looked sick, eyeing him suspiciously. Not wanting to believe it. Xe was the only one who hadn’t seen him.

Jamie had taken on a weird, serene look Issac didn’t like. It looked too much like someone prepared to die. JAMIE: He’ll be OK. She stood up. We can worry about Dad later. He’s safe at home. We should focus on the plan.

“Aren’t you mad at him? You pointed a weapon at him.”

Jamie tilted her head, considering. JAMIE: Yeah. But he doesn’t want me to be scared of him. And now he’s actually listening to me. So it’ll be OK.

“‘It’ll be OK?’ We’re trying to lure a potential terrorist to the place we’re living, taunt him with dangerous experimental tech, and the best case scenario has me handing that tech over to the same organization that’s apparently been feeding our dad serious narcotics for years, and has repeatedly snatched limbs from our family. Where are you getting ‘OK’ from that?” Issac still wasn’t completely convinced that Lasansky was the real bad guy, since Bridgewater seemed to be even worse than Issac had imagined, but Issac still needed a lot of answers before he’d hand his tech over to just anyone.

Opal, at least, had some of the somberness Issac felt the situation warranted. And she was holding Jamie’s hand. Huh. OPAL: We can’t completely win this. This is damage control.

A Kobayashi Maru. An unwinnable fight to test your character.

The flash drive was still in Issac’s hand. He hadn’t set it down since Yael’s suspicions came up.

He turned it over, running it between his fingers.

“I just wanted to help people. This could still help people.” People like Jenna. Maybe people like him.

But, unfinished, it was a lot more of a weapon than a medical intervention.

JAMIE: Jenna would be mad you took this job. Even if Lasansky isn’t a terrorist, testing experimental tech on people who can’t leave, who have to depend on their captors for food, and medical help--

OPAL: --And who can’t always even call home. I haven’t heard from my dad since I got here. They can isolate him whenever they want, for whatever they want. You really think they’d just…be nice about this one thing, and only take willing participants?

Fuck. Jenna would be furious. Mom would kill him.

And they’d both be right. Damn it. Progress without ethics was…like the plot of 50% of the science fiction he’d ever watched, read, or listened to. He knew better. But he’d wanted to help. He’d just…trusted the ethics of powerful organizations too much.

And he’d been too afraid. Too ashamed.

He wasn’t going to put anyone else at risk over his damn feelings.

He’d come this far, in less than two years, before he was even 18.

He could always invent it again, someday. If he could create a place and an organization where it could be made safely. Where an agency he could actually trust would do the job the APB was supposed to.

The only way to win a Kobayashi Maru was to change the game.

He got up and went to the kitchen. He made his mind as blank as he could, trying to ignore the way his heart was a staccato spasm in his chest. Just one foot in front of the other. That was all he had to think about. The drive was the bait. They needed it to lure a confession out of Lasansky.

But they didn’t need the actual data for that.

If Lasansky turned out to be the good guy here, Issac was going to be furious at himself for this.

Issac dropped the drive into the toaster and pushed down the lever before he could second-guess himself.

A few bursts of shocked but not especially coherent text blipped up, and he ignored them. He watched the coils turn a deep, smouldering red. There was no turning back now. It was over. He didn’t have to worry about whether he could go through with it. “Sorry, partner. Maybe someday.”

MARTIN: I understand. This is better. Thank you.

That was Martin. They had nothing to prove to anybody. No ego to soothe. Just a pure desire to imagine, invent, and help.

The coils turned from red to glaring orange. The drive case was titanium. He couldn’t break it. He didn’t even trust deletion. But it had no wireless access, so unless anyone plugged it in, there was no way to tell the data’d been destroyed by the heat.

Even if this whole thing went completely belly-up, Issac wouldn’t leave behind a legacy that could be used to hurt anyone else.

The time went off, and the toaster tried to give him back the useless husk of a thumb drive. But it had fallen into the coils. “Yael, can you dig this thing out for me? I don’t want to burn my hands.”

Slowly, Yael stood, and came over to him. Everyone was staring.

The attention was harder to bear than watching the toaster. His eyes started to itch the way they did when there was too much liquid between cornea and contact. His nose felt runny. He sucked it up and produced the best smirk he could while Yael silently took the appliance, unplugged it, and fished out the drive with a silver-black hand. “Whatever. I’m a genius. Make something better later, anyway.”

Jamie looked proud of him, so that had to be worth something. And Opal looked less like she was going to cry, which was a relief.

“And I do like puns. And androids.” He looked at Jamie and Yael. “Think Mom’ll give me a job fixing shitty software for contacts?”

Yael handed him back the drive, and put xyr other hand on Issac’s shoulder. YAEL: Whatever happens, you’ll have us.

* * *

Yael knew that, really, most battle plans didn’t make it past the first engagement. They were more like optimistic outlines than anything.

But their plan didn’t even make it that far.

Issac had sent a rude email to Lasansky saying that Issac quit and would head home in the morning.

Just like they hoped, Lasansky showed up in person not too long after. Just like Yael expected, he brought uniformed, armed guards. Which, for Yael, completely settled the question of Lasansky’s villainy. You didn’t bring armed altereds to deal with a concussed, unaltered string bean like Issac if you weren’t up to something.

So, all of that was fine. Yael was prepared for all of that.

The problem was the tall figure in neon orange who slumped out after the guards. If the orange jumpsuit wasn’t signal enough, Yael knew his face.

“The pilot,” xe breathed. And he wasn’t cuffed, wasn’t shackled. Lasansky was “transporting” him, but the man was obviously not a prisoner. That was more than enough proof for Yael that they were colluding.

He wasn’t as tall as Yael, but still stood nearly a head taller than the rest of them. His eyes scanned the area along with the guards.

A real supervillain. The one who’d taken aim and knocked Issac into the sky. Who’d wrecked Yael’s home and xyr family.

Xe turned back to the garage, where everybody was in their places, as ready as they could be. Xe couldn’t see Jamie from here. Issac was slouched in a folding chair, one leg bouncing. Him being bait was xyr least favorite part of this. Xe’d sworn to protect him. Opal leaned against a truck nearby, almost casual. Yael whispered, “The pilot is with him-- no cuffs or anything. That proves it.”

It proved it to Yael. And by Issac’s suddenly red face and Opal’s stoic nod through flashing amber lights, it was enough proof for them, too. But they needed more evidence than that for an actual court.

“Yael,” Jamie hissed from her hiding place. “Silver.”

Yael shook xyr head. A lot of the plan hinged on Yael staying out of sight until after they had the information they needed. Opal, who Lasansky didn’t know, would stay in the garage to protect Issac and, if necessary, Jamie. Yael’s job was to keep as many guards as possible from getting into the garage in the first place.

It didn’t matter if xe was silver. Nobody would see xyr.

Xe slipped out the back door and ducked into a mound of scraggly shrubs to make xyr way around the building. The gravel and the bushes were impossible to move silently through, but even though it was night, there was some manufacturing noise from the other buildings. That should cover any little sounds.

Xe made it to the front just in time to see Lasansky and three guards enter the garage door they’d left open. That left five guards and the pilot at the cars. Just like Jamie predicted, they didn’t expect anyone here to put up a fight. Xe crouched in the densest part of the bush xe could find.

Then there was a whole new problem. Xe had to wait. Just sit here, with the others out of xyr sight, watching the pilot lean against one of the SUVs with his arms folded and a distant look on his face. Xe wondered how old he was. If he was actually around Yael’s age, or if he was from an age-stable line. What sort of crime had gotten him arrested in the first place? What heinous thing had he done that would make Lasansky team up with him for the attack?

He kept himself away from the lackeys. Maybe he was higher up in the chain of command than them. He was unarmed. Either he was his own weapon, or he was Lasansky’s weapon.

Either way, Yael struggled to stay put. And the damn guards were chit-chatting so much, xe couldn’t make out what anybody was saying in the garage, even though xe could hear voices.

Xyr muscles coiled tight.

If it weren’t for him-- if he hadn’t started it all, xyr family wouldn’t be in tatters. Yael would be at home. Issac and Jamie would be safe. Yael would still be able to trust everyone, and Opal would probably already be a Sentinel.

Yael had killed two men in Hopkins, Minnesota, three years ago. Xe’d done it to protect Issac. Xe hadn’t wanted to.

But it had been so easy at the time.

It was only afterwards that Yael had felt sick. Started feeling those rippling memories under xyr skin.

For the first time, the sense-memory of a brittle, flaking crunch followed by the sluggish ooze of cold blood didn’t repulse xyr. The instincts that knew that violence would always favor Yael projected those memories, and the wet grind of Neil’s bones, out onto the body of the pilot. Like a map to follow. How many more deaths would live under xyr exoskeleton by the end of today?

He wouldn’t be as easy, but there was no way killing him would leave xyr with that sick feeling in the pit of xyr stomach. Xe wouldn’t need to lock the memory of his death away.

Papa said guilt was good. That killing should never be easy. That the fear of guilt kept powerful people in check.

Yael didn’t want to be kept in check. Xe wanted to crush the villain who’d ruined xyr peace.

Xe couldn’t stay still. Xe was shaking with rage. Xyr temperature lurched from hot to cold as xyr exoskeleton tried to cope with the heat of xyr fury. The man who’d caused it all was right there. How could xe care about some elderly bureaucrat with a real supervillain standing right there?

It was more than xe could hold in. Some tiny shift, some grit-toothed breath, some reflection off xyr skin gave xyr away.

He turned to watch the bushes where Yael hid. Yael didn’t move, but xyr mind was spinning out possibilities. See me. Give me an excuse.

His posture changed, sensing danger, preparing for the fight that was feeling closer and more inevitable every second.

He shoved off the side of the van. Took two slow, testing steps towards the garage door. Like Hell would Yael let him get anywhere near the others. It was enough of a reason.

Yael leapt from the bushes, ready to tear the pilot apart. He moved back, and Yael didn’t register the sound of clicks fast enough.

Xe did register the sound of gunshots. Xe didn’t realize till xe felt the air rip behind xyr that xe was the target. Xe’d forgotten about the other henchmen.

Xe turned to dispatch them as quick as possible, but a word ripped through the air like another bullet. “Ezekiel!”

Xe stared at them. They believed it. Just like Opal, the darkly shining silver was enough to convince them that 18 years of death wasn’t enough to hold xyr birth father down.

There were still machining sounds in the distance. More signs of life. More people that might hear that name and believe it. And if they believed it, then anyone seen helping Yael would be at risk from a terrified mob.

The pilot broke rank and ran.

Jamie, Issac, and Opal were here. They needed protecting, but they also needed to not be tied to Ezekiel. Two instincts tore Yael in opposite directions.

Xe let rage cast the last vote, and sped after the pilot, ignoring the sounds of bullets.

They raced through a labyrinth of warehouses and factories. Yael ran harder than xe’d ever run before. Every ground-swallowing step took xyr further and further away from xyr real goal, xyr real purpose, like a tether that might snap.

Yael turned a corner. It dropped xyr into a throng of trucks, crates, and warehouse workers.

The pilot ran through the crowd-- deftly leaping over, darting through, and dodging every obstacle. His prison uniform caused a commotion.

But Yael’s showing up caused a cacophony of falling crates, terrified cursing and evacuation commands. They instantly forgot the pilot. Yael actually paused, first to look for the pilot, then to take in all the fear and chaos xe’d caused. More than the obvious escaped criminal.

In the corner of xyr eye, xe caught one idiot pointing a phone at xyr from inside. Xe scowled at him before xe could think about it.

Nodiah’s warnings rang through xyr head, echoing inside xyr exoskeleton.

This was Yael’s debut-- terrifying everybody. Looking like a monster.

Looking like xe always had, inside.

Xe froze long enough for a few loading dock workers to find their nerve. Xe saw some of them cautiously lifting crowbars, hammers, all kinds of improvised weapons. Xe could just about make out a pitchfork.

It was noble of them. Odds were, hardly any of them were altered. Maybe none of them were. But they saw a supervillain and a mass killer back from the dead, and armed themselves.

If xe went around them, xe’d lose the pilot for sure. If xe went through the crowd, they might attack. Xe couldn’t fight them.

Xe couldn’t cry when xe was silver. The exoskeleton locked any moisture inside it. Xe couldn’t sweat, couldn’t even bleed.

No fighting and no avoiding. One last desperate option available to avoid civilian injuries.

Xe pulled in as much air as heaving lungs could manage, deepened xyr voice, and tried to channel every booming command xe’d ever heard from the team. “Get out of my way! I’m after the terrorist, not you!”

Xe hoped the man with the camera was still rolling.

If only xyr voice hadn’t sounded so wrong.

But they mostly scrambled. Xe didn’t hear any crowbars drop. They cleared a path, only a few of them turned clumsy by fear.

“Move move move move!” xe demanded, running all-out. Xe’d lost sight of him. Had to find him, prove which side xe was on--

The briefest flicker of orange, reflected off a fender facing an alleyway, gave xyr new direction.

Xe found a new reserve of energy, and sprinted after him.

Two turns later, xe had the pilot fully in xyr sights. Three turns after that, he made a mistake.

He’d trapped himself in a dead end, with xyr blocking his only way out of a concrete and iron box.

He turned to face xyr.

#SHOSweekly

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monsterintheballroom · 2 years ago

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Interview under the cut :-)

Penelope Wilton and Luke Evans to star in Queen Mother comedy in the West End

Michael Grandage will direct Wilton as the Queen Mother, with Evans playing her most loyal servant, in new play Backstairs Billy this autumn

Luke Evans will return to the West End this autumn to star alongside Penelope Wilton in a new play about the Queen Mother’s relationship with her most loyal servant.

Evans, whose films include Fast & Furious 6 and Disney’s Beauty and the Beast, has not performed on stage in more than a decade. The Welsh actor is now set to play William Tallon in Marcelo Dos Santos’s comedy Backstairs Billy at the Duke of York’s theatre in London.

Set in 1979, against the backdrop of civil unrest, the play examines the relationship between the Queen Mother and Tallon, who served the royal household for over half a century.

“When I read the script, it made me giggle out loud so hard,” said Evans. “It’s just so entertaining and such a joyous story about these two people: the Queen Mother, who was super famous, but also Billy. He was always there and spent most of his life working for her.”

Evans, 44, “started on the West End stage”, he said. “I left it and now feels like the right time to come back in this new comedy, which is written so beautifully. I’ve gone through all the emotions, all the feels of excitement, trepidation, nerves, doubt and then thinking, you know what, this was my world from the second I graduated [from London Studio Centre in 2000] and I loved it. I can’t wait to get stuck into rehearsals.”

Wilton described Backstairs Billy, which features a company of 12, as “a joyful and compassionate play. It brings the Queen Mother into Technicolor rather than being a pastel person in pale chiffon. She suddenly becomes a very vibrant person and we see her for herself, not just for being the Queen’s mother. Billy allowed her to be who she was.”

She stressed that, despite being a comedy, the play is by no means a “send-up”. It is “a celebration of the Queen Mother, who has been rather sidelined”, Wilton said, adding: “It’s very nice to be in on the birth of a new comedy because there aren’t that many around. This is a new comedy voice. [Dos Santos] has a mixture of Alan Bennett, Alan Ayckbourn and – dare I say – Noël Coward.” Dos Santos’s plays include Feeling Afraid As If Something Terrible Is Going to Happen, a solo show about a comedian played by Samuel Barnett, which opened at the Edinburgh fringe last summer and will run at the Bush theatre from November.

Backstairs Billy will be directed by Michael Grandage who met the Queen Mother and Tallon while attending a reception in 1997. “There was very much a hierarchy in place in that one was serving the other but there was an incredible respect and depth of something going on, where you knew each was reliant on the other in some way,” he remembered. “It really was like watching a double act.”

Backstairs Billy runs at the Duke of York’s theatre from 27 October until 27 January.

#penelope wilton #luke evans #queen mum #british royals #downton abbey #theatre

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my-excellent-bicycle · 2 years ago

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dailymotion

John Robins - "The Darkness of Robins" (2017)

I started listening to Elis James and John Robins' radio show around two months ago, and a recurring quality I noticed was the level of vulnerability that occasionally shined through in their banter, especially from John. Most of the time it's light stuff about what they did that week, or talk about topics I really couldn't care less about (like snooker), but other times John would give updates on his mental health. Some examples I'd heard in the past few weeks were him improving his workout regimen and trying new health items like Chinese herbs, going on a weekend meditation retreat that left him sobbing in a Turkish restaurant, and going out to the pub with his "gal pals" to celebrate his birthday, which also involved tears being shed.

Because it was a BBC radio program whose content could only be stretched so far beyond "family-friendly" territory, I always got the sense John would probably recount his experiences a bit differently if not for the format of the show. He's alluded to long-standing struggles with depression and alcoholism, and the willingness to approach these topics in a very matter-of-fact manner made me respect him immensely. Although I couldn't help but feel there were other avenues where he'd explore these issues with a more raw approach, outside the confines of a BBC radio show.

Which brings me to The Darkness of Robins. I've heard some talk about this special in the past, specifically about how it was vaguely depressing, and that it won an award at the Edinburgh Fringe that year, but I've never properly given it a watch until today.

Okay, a bit of a personal insert here, which I don't typically do on this blog, but trust me it's relevant: a few months ago, I was seeing someone. He was a guy who I'd been talking to on and off for a while, but we'd never actually went on proper dates on a consistent basis until last summer. I was 23, and this was the first taste I've ever had of a serious relationship, since being closeted in high school/college basically prevented me from dating, and my home life only sealed that deal. But this was different. We did almost everything couples our age would do. He accepted me for who I was, regardless of how I presented myself that day, or if I was feeling down. I was beginning to think, this could be the real deal. I was so lucky to have him. This felt special.

After a couple months, around December, I started having doubts about how he was feeling. Surely by now, seeing as we'd been together for half a year, he'd want to make it official right? Every time I'd want to allude to the question, he'd either hesitate or put off answering it directly. The only time I directly asked him if he wanted to make things official, he said we should wait until he's finished going through the paperwork for his new apartment, which should be done by February. I took this at face value, but it still made me anxious. It didn't help that he went away with his family for two weeks over Christmas, during which we barely talked at all, and every possibility ran through my head.

When he came back, we met up and had dinner, and he came over mine. I debated on whether I should even bring up the question again, since he'd already told me to basically wait till February, and I didn't want to annoy him or sound desperate. But I bit the bullet and asked again, and this time he told me flat out he didn't want a relationship.

He explained how he wasn't in a place in his life where he could have a healthy relationship, and emotionally laid out some issues in his past, relating to his ex, and therapy he had growing up. I of course understood, assured him I wasn't mad, and I let him out. For the following few days, he would check in on me through text, where I'd do my best to hide the fact I was deeply hurt by his decision. After a few days, I said that I'd want time to myself, and he understood, and that was the last time we talked.

The way this whole ordeal played out still never left my mind, and the more time passed, the more I felt led on and I never got over him, even months later. Everything I'd do, whether it was going out to eat, seeing concerts, or even watching Britcom and blogging about it, were just distractions from thinking about him. Two weeks ago, we'd stopped talking for around four months, and I made the fatal mistake of checking his Instagram for the first time since. I saw his arm around a girl. I read the caption, it had a hashtag, "girlfriend." Shit.

I was livid. Then I felt betrayed, and then destroyed. I couldn't help but think there was something wrong with me. What couldn't I offer in those six months that he flaked out on me, yet she could offer that made him want to make her his girlfriend in only three? All my years of self-loathing, anxiety, and feelings of unworthiness suddenly flooded my brain. I might have snapped at a few friends who were trying to listen to me. I wasn't happy with anything.

I've calmed down since that initial reaction, but the disbelief and negative emotions are still very much present, which brings me to today, and when I put on The Darkness of Robins. In short, this special revolves around John's breakup with his then-fiancee Sara Pascoe, and his ensuing depression and slip into alcoholism. Right from the beginning, John really wants you to know that his brain isn't functioning healthily. Rather than confronting his problems, he'd just slide further into more self-loathing and sadness, and desperately clinging onto a past which can't be recovered. There's images of rotting apples, rivers of tears falling into a toilet, screaming into mirrors. Even the jokes, y'know, the whole reason this is special is even called "comedy," are delivered as such that when you think about them for a second too long, they become more harrowing and sad than hilarious.

At points it felt like a dozen punches to my stomach. Watching John yell to the crowd, during at times even staring down the camera for what felt like centuries, as he plotted out his despair and anxiousness, felt like looking in a mirror. It felt cathartic watching him describe the hopelessness of regaining love once it's lost. Yes, I recognize both of us experienced extremely different degrees of pain, but the same emotions are there, and it's something anyone who's went through any sense of romantic loss or longing can relate to. He so accurately described what it feels like to feel such strong self-hatred that it snowballs from the most mundane things, like shopping for cabinets at IKEA.

I won't spoil the entire thing of course, but the last ten minutes of this special is something that'll stick with me for a very long time. John laying out the slow, agonizing process of his breakup was heartbreaking to witness, and it's structured so masterfully that I'm surprised he hadn't thought of turning it into a novel with that level of detail.

When it ended, I felt numb, and reflected on my own emotions. And then I remembered the present version of John Robins I regularly hear on his radio show every week, and think about how the John I just watched was from several years ago. For reasons I can't articulate entirely, it did give me some hope that it won't always be like this. Maybe these emotions can be managed appropriately, and with time. As the cliche goes, it's a marathon, not a sprint.

There was a particular moment near the last third of the special that stuck out to me. Looking down the camera, John pulled from his inner monologue, saying he realized that "every mistake you've ever made in your life is because of you." At this point in the show, we see this bit as a way John drives the point home that he's been in a cycle of self-loathing for a very long time. But weirdly enough, I interpreted it in a weirdly optimistic way. If every mistake you've made is your own doing, then there shouldn't be anything stopping you from trying to change for the better.

And that's the sense I get from listening to John in 2023. Little adjustments, whether it's getting deep into a workout or trying Chinese herbs, can make a difference. Maybe this will inspire me to try making small changes to my life, in the hopes I'll be able to improve.

But yeah, you should watch The Darkness of Robins, it’s free in its entirety at that link. But maybe approach with caution if you’ve recently had your heart broken.

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sawyoucosyouthinkimsleeping · 1 year ago

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I think summer is a phantom. Heat and languid freedom is a fantasy that has only ever existed in my imagination, informed by films and glimpses of other people's lives. In reality, my summers are always spent standing in cold, frigid, air conditioned rooms, handing clothes to rich people or sweltering evenings in stuffy restaurants with my fringe stuck to my greasy forehead, lining up cocktails on a bar. Still, I always get that summer fervour. It usually happens during deep winter. I get drunk on the idea of what summer one day might be like for me: by myself in the middle of a busy foreign city at night, weaving through crowds unnoticed drinking in the lights and the noises, or smoking at a house party, jumping in someone's outdoor pool, lounging in a hotel room with the window open to a beautiful balcony. I'm seduced simply by the idea of walking through and basking in the vastness of the world. It only seems possible in summer.

These scenes play out like an American coming-of-age film on the inside walls of my head. I watch them over and over. I experiment with different plot lines, different characters from my past, rewind and replay my favourite parts, working out which combination of imaginary scenarios will get me the biggest serotonin hit. This gets me the closest I can ever get to the real experience. If anything brings me back to my body, to the present, which is usually a very grey cold London, it ruins everything. I will sometimes be depressed for days. So it's better to not be present, whatever the cost. If I live outside of my life and outside of my body I can get through the day.

When they promoted me to Store Manager, and I ended up working six days a week for a lot less money than I should have been paid, I both needed to get through the day more than ever and found myself operating my life at a distance more than ever. The routine meant I could be on autopilot and let the body take over. What I had forgotten is that when you do this your self can disappear, and the self is something which can be very hard to retrieve once it slips away.

#words

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muiiruii · 3 years ago

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sunshowers in the summer

mikey ; draken ; mitsuya ; kazutora

fluff ; age up (manga version) ; abstract ; love found in unexpected moments

— mikey gazed at the scenery rise and fall, his eyes lazily tracing over the different shapes of clouds dotted along the blue sky. he wondered why you insisted on pushing him when it felt like you wanted to be the one sitting on the swing. with his hands clasped loosely on the chains, for a brief a moment, mikey wondered if he should just let go. would he fly? how would that feel? he got curious. the urge to jump was like waves retreating before a tsunami. yet, before he could fully submerge himself into the free-fall of his own pleasure, the sudden light drizzle that came upon him seemed to hush up his thoughts. your firm grip on his shoulders put a halt to his momentum, his feet creating friction with the ground. “what’s wrong, mikey?” you had your hands cupped his soft cheeks, tilting his head up to look at you. it was then he realized, your hair was wet. your fringe leaving droplets of rain landing on his forehead, and although he hated the sun and its warm rays, it didn’t feel so bad with you by his side. perhaps, just like this sunshower, even a little passing rain could feel nice once in a while. a tiny smile was barely visible before he reached a hand out to the back of your neck. “nothing.” he mumbled, watching your eyes widen in surprise at the fleeting kiss he placed on your lips. maybe that curiosity of his could wait, for all he wants now is to have you occupy every inch of his mind. from your dimples to your crescent hues, the growing redness on the tip of your ears will always be his favorite. “shall we continue?”

— draken chuckled at another one of your failed attempt. it wasn’t like you to not ask for his help when it comes to wasting money on such games, perhaps this time you really wanted to win it yourself. “do you want me to help?” he noticed the angry pout hanging on your lips, pleading eyes finally darting over to him. with confidence laced in his words, he shot down the tiny piece of bottle cap with ease. “what did i say? aren’t i the best?” you snorted, taking the biggest teddy bear in your arms with a grin. “yes baby, the one and only.” he laughed, fingers almost pinching those soft cheeks of yours when he felt tiny droplets of rain against his skin. quickly, he lead you towards a nearby pavilion to take shelter. it wasn’t until you suddenly stop in your track did he turned to face you. the way your eyes sparkled mischievously did not go unnoticed by him when your innocent smile spread across your lips. with a hard push, he stumbled back a few steps as you ran away. “tag, you’re it!” you giggled when you caught a glimpse of surprise on his face. oh how surprised he was when you pulled such a stunt. not like he wasn’t used to it, but for once, he couldn’t help but laugh in amusement. you really do know how to bring different sides of him out. and this time, he wondered if the heavy pounding of his heart was from chasing after you, or the way your smile was ever so bright under the passing sunshower. your wet hair that danced along with the wind, the splashes of water against your feet, and the huge bear you were clinging onto, everything about the scene in front of him was breathtaking. “you’re too slow, ken!” perhaps it didn’t matter which was the correct answer, since you are the reason for both of it as well. “don’t regret starting this when i catch you later.”

— mitsuya watched you twirled in a carefree manner behind the camera. it was another unplanned shoot for his new collection, and having you, his muse, try it before anyone else was always his priority. after all, his favorite part in his line of work was having you model each and every piece of his artwork. “come here, my love.” you extended your hand out, a smile graced his lips at your invitation. taking your hand in his, you pulled him towards the pebble of steps by a calm river. it was one of those days where the sun was sitting high in the sky, the reflection of you smiling at him was clearly shown on the surface of the water. he was just about to snap a picture when a ripple caused the image to distort. it didn’t take long before more ripples were formed. being prepared as always, he took out a transparent umbrella from his bag. “i wouldn’t want my precious model getting sick, now would i?” he tapped your nose when you feel the tiny droplets stop falling onto your open palm. you frown, not liking the way he dismissed your fun. of course, a little umbrella would not stop you. with a huge grin, you lifted your dress up with your hands. “surely you can always find someone to replace me, mister popular designer.” with a wink, you hopped away from him and onto the other stones ahead. when you turned back to stick your tongue out, he realized perhaps you were hanging out with his little sisters too much. luna, especially, might have rubbed some of her mischief onto you. a sigh of content escaped his lips as he followed along, watching you light on your feet a few steps ahead. just as you slipped on your next landing, he broke your fall when he pulled you towards his chest. “no one can ever replace you though.” he let the umbrella slipped from his fingers, hands around your back when he lifted you up with ease. you chuckled, your finger combing his lilac locks away from his face. “what if you get sick too?” you rest your forehead against his, the sun doing real little to warm his back when he could feel all the heat making its way to his cheeks. does it matter? he thought, capturing your lips with his. once more, again and again. “i think it’ll be worth it for today, don’t you?”

— kazutora squeezed your hand in his, a smile on his face when you tugged at the collar of the akita inu you were helping him take a walk with. the ball of fluff wagging its tail excitedly at whoever that walked passed, obviously wanting a pat or two from them. “he reminds me of you sometimes.” you thought aloud, your gaze fell onto the little girl ruffling up the cheeks of the dog with her little hands. “what do you mean by that?” he gasped, tugging your hand to look his way. he loved the way your eyes softened at the kids playing with the dog, but he was more concerned about what you said. did you just compare him to a dog? you smiled at the parents of those kids, returning a small bow before resuming the walk. “oh, you know,” you stalled, biting back a laugh when he waited for you finish your sentence. maybe he did know the meaning behind your words, for he wasn’t oblivious to the times you cooed at him like how you would towards the pets in his shop. maybe he just wanted to be loved the same way they were loved, and maybe he wouldn’t mind being labeled as one if he belongs to you. “because you’re just that cute too.” your words probably wasn’t everything you wanted to convey, but it was okay. when the sky let those droplets of rain fall, he watched you struggle to hold onto the excited ball of fluff. kazutora hated the rain, the drizzle feeling prickly against his skin, but somehow he didn’t mind it today. was it because he was with you? instead of taking the ropes away from you, he carried the dog into his arms. “shall we run back to the shop?” you nodded, tipping your toes to give him a pat on his head. a laugh slipped from his lips at your gesture, even though it was short, it was enough to ease himself from the sudden sunshower. “i’ll dry your hair and we can cuddle afterwards, okay?” maybe a little rain wouldn’t hurt if he gets to indulge in your affection each time.

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haadeswrites · 3 years ago

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Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it.

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child.

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well.

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call.

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse.

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined.

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her.

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?”

And your traitorous heart skips a beat.

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.”

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?”

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression.

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet…

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following.

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading.

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home.

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions.

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain.

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him.

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi.

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part.

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours.

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea.

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well.

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for.

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to.

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight.

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers.

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him.

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight.

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion.

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering.

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms.

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night.

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?”

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be.

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach.

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves.

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head.

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river.

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn.

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired.

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north.

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night.

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore…

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it?

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.”

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island.

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment.

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage.

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside.

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side.

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly.

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head.

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first.

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out.

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes.

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. ��If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise.

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually.

Time slows.

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at.

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally–

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound.

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips.

It wasn’t him. It was never him.

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.”

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care.

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though.

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch.

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again.

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to.

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you.

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter.

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most.

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood.

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!”

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks.

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #cult au #tw: religious themes #tw: dubcon #tw: blood #tw: minor character death #tw: abuse #hades.dark #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader

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the-dream-team · 4 years ago

Text

Can I Try Again

Another ridiculously fluffy one-shot for @efkgirldetective's summer of jily week four prompt: picking berries // I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right // the entire song, pink in the night <3

She is beautiful and he is in a perpetual state of falling. Down and down and down the goddamn rabbit hole, but somehow the further James plummets, the brighter his life becomes. It’s the kind of brightness that blinds him- somewhat painfully- and leaves his vision spotty, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lily Evans walks ahead of him, a spring in her step, sunshine pouring through her hair. She’s cut it short for the summer, just above her shoulders, and he’s mesmerized by the way it bounces around her neck as she walks through the gardens of his family’s home. It’s an image he’s played over in his head an infinite number of times, but his rosiest daydreams don’t hold a candle to the real thing. The afternoon light hits his glasses just right and suddenly there’s a halo of glowing stars framing her as she tucks a dark red strand behind her ear. He can’t even see her face, but it doesn’t matter. I could stare at your back all day.

He is the luckiest boy in the world and every moment is made up of the sweetest form of torture. Agony and exuberance whipping his heart back and forth like a rogue Bludger.

She must know, he thinks. Must have some sort of clue that she’s occupied every corner of his mind for well over a year now. Even more so now, after the platform. He wishes more than anything for the ability to read minds as she glances over her shoulder with those startlingly green eyes, that friendly grin.

He can’t help but smile back- or maybe he was already smiling before she even turned around. It doesn’t matter. By some miracle, she’s here, and he can only marvel at the kindness of fate.

***

It had been a passing comment. One of those early morning conversations as his friends frantically scribbled out unfinished essays while shoving waffles down their throats. Chatter muffled by mouthfuls of eggs and yawning. Remus had commented offhandedly about the fruit bowl being passed around, and then-

“Oh, raspberries are my favorite.”

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t already looking at her when she spoke. But truthfully, he was always looking at Lily, a habit he’d long since stopped fighting once he realized how fruitless his efforts were. She was beautiful and he was hopeless. Simply lucky to be in her presence. She was the sun, and he, but a lonely planet, entirely reliant on and endlessly seeking out her light.

Sirius spoke the words James should have if his mind hadn’t gone fuzzy from hearing her voice.

“You know, the Potters have a raspberry patch in their gardens.”

“Oh, really?” She glanced from Sirius to James with a brilliant smile and excited eyes, so purposefully glued to his that he had to duck his head and rake a hand through his hair to hide his heating cheeks.

“That’s right,” he said more to his plate of sausages than to her. “They’re usually ripe to pick by early August.” When he peered back up, she was still looking his way.

“You should come over this summer and take some off our hands,” said Sirius casually, turning towards James as if it had been his idea.

“Yeah,” he jumped in a little too eagerly. “I mean- if you’d like, you’re more than welcome.”

Her smile widened, rounding the apples of her cheeks in a way that made his stomach flip pleasantly. “That sounds like fun.”

He assumed she’d forget the conversation, it had been just another morning, just another casual chat among housemates, but that didn’t keep him from daydreaming about the potential of a far-off day in August rather incessantly during the following months. But then as the school year ended and summer rolled on painfully slowly (and Lily-less), an owl arrived. And her handwriting crawled across the page like a message written in the clouds.

***

Lily swings the woven basket back and forth in her pursuit of the best raspberries. There’s already an impressive bounty growing in her basket, far more than he’s managed to collect- too busy watching her kneel down and pluck berries off their delicate branches to pick any of his own.

He turns to a leafy bush, green and lively and swaying slightly in the warm breeze, and quickly pinches off a handful of berries in an attempt to catch up with her. When she spins around, he’s thankful for the distraction. A minute earlier and she would have caught him staring. Again.

She smiles pleasantly and brushes her fringe off her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist. James’ heart leaps into his throat.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, but not accusingly.

“No I haven’t,” he responds, voice gravelly from underuse. “Just been busy picking raspberries.”

She glances at his measly basket, then back to his face with arching brows and an amused smirk.

He can’t help his own guilty grin. “Alright, Evans, I’m sorry we can’t all be unreasonably talented at everything we do.”

“It’s berry picking, Potter,” she laughs, “not advanced Arithmancy.”

In retaliation, he plucks a raspberry off of the nearest branch and playfully throws it at her. She somehow has the gall to lean her head back and catch the goddamn berry between her teeth. His brain short circuits. He’s quite certain his jaw is on the ground. She acts as though this is no big deal, swallowing the fruit with a satisfied smile, her tongue brushing her lower lip before tossing another into her mouth.

“Oh, these are delicious!”

He can’t form a response even if he wants to. Even if it was a matter of life or death, which it sure as hell feels like. He can only stare at her mouth, at her lips stained raspberry-pink, and lose himself in the knowledge that he knows how they feel against his own- even just briefly.

***

The platform teemed with students stretching their legs after the long journey home from school, saying their goodbyes to friends as their families greeted them for the summer.

A pit sat in James’ stomach- heavy and demoralizing- the entire train ride back to London. He knew she’d be gone soon. Back with her parents in Cokeworth for two excruciating months before their seventh year began. He’d taken their close proximity for granted during the school year, and as he faced a summer without the promise of her warmth, he wondered if it was even possible living in the dark.

He laughed loudly at a joke Peter told, overcompensating for the fact he’d missed the punchline while his thoughts were spiraling over her. Sirius shot him a look that suggested he wasn’t doing a great job of masking his emotions. Had it been so obvious the entire way home? Could she have noticed the despondency in his eyes, heard the heavy thumping of his heart? He rolled his eyes at Sirius and mustered up the most unbothered smirk he could manage.

But then, without warning, she was in front of him.

“Alright, Potter, don’t let your head overinflate while I’m not around to keep you grounded.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Evans,” he laughed, thankful his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “Just so long as you promise to consider switching your loyalties to Puddlemere. There’s no way the Harpies even make it to the semi-finals this season, and I can’t bear seeing you heartbroken again.”

“Oh, piss off, Potter,” she replied, but the way she threw her arms around his neck seemed to argue she didn’t mean what she said. Instinctually, he hugged her back, and thank Merlin he had her to hold onto as the wind was knocked out of his lungs at her touch. An overwhelming warmth sparkled across every surface their bodies met, and it took every ounce of control he had to restrain the truly pathetic sigh that threatened to escape his throat.

“And I haven’t forgotten,” she spoke into his shoulder, breath hot thorough his t-shirt, “you promised me berry picking this August.”

It would be impossible to miss the rapid beating of his heart through his chest pressed up against hers. “I’m already counting down the days.”

When she pulled back, hands resting on his shoulders for a beat longer than expected, his body moved faster than his brain could keep up with. He leaned forward, aiming for her cheek, but miraculously landing against her mouth- connecting for the briefest of moments before parting again, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. If it weren’t for the ghost of her lips still burning against his own, he might have thought he’d dreamt it.

“Lily, I’m not waiting any longer, we’re leaving, now,” came the unpleasant voice of her sister from across the platform.

Lily’s disoriented smile faltered slightly before she composed herself again, meeting his eye. “I’ll see you in August?”

“Yeah, August,” he somehow said with his mouth still tingling, forever changed by what they now knew.

***

The memory of her lips, how they feel pressed between his smile, is harder to ignore when they’re in front of him. He can remember the warmth where they touched him over a month ago and absentmindedly he brings a raspberry to his mouth so he can imagine how she must taste.

His emotions were hard enough to control before he knew what he was missing, but now they are impossible to reign in. He forgets how to breathe, and as a result, his head spins maddeningly. Unsure of how much longer he can stand up straight without making a fool out of himself, he walks forward and lays a hand on Lily’s back- partially to lead her forward, partially because the desire to be connected to her in any way is driving him mad.

She lets him guide her through the rows of bushes, under an ancient wooden archway, and across a courtyard of blossoming poppies and forget-me-nots enclosed by walls of hedges. Yellow and purple petals reflect brilliantly in her green eyes, creating their own fields of wildflowers within her irises. He walks her towards a wide, circular fountain in the middle of the grass where bubbling water spills over onto stone tiers and pours into the basin below, its floor littered with glinting coins, dancing under the water’s rippling surface.

He sits down and she follows suit on the stone ledge surrounding the water, partially shaded by an impressive plum tree. Cool droplets spray off the fountain, refreshing like summer rain singing I love you, I love you, I love you. Lily glances his way and he wonders if she can hear his thoughts.

“Are we finished picking berries?” she asks, eyes squinting and nose crinkling in the sun.

“I figured you had enough to feed a village.” He reaches over and grabs a raspberry from her basket and she gasps in faux outrage.

“Are you really stealing my raspberries, Potter?”

He adores his name on her tongue. “My apologies,” he says, pulling a silver Sickle out of his pocket and sliding it over to where she sits. She looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “For your troubles. Go on then, make a wish.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up and she takes hold of the coin, lifting it to her heart as she closes her eyes in search of a wish.

He thinks he could look at her forever. Happy, sunkissed, an unconscious smile playing across her lips. With her eyes shut, he uses a minute to take a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart and compose his dopey grin. They’re sitting close together, knees almost touching with the basket of berries between them. As she tosses the Sickle behind her shoulder, he smells the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo.

She noticeably tries to hide her smile when her eyelids flutter back open.

“What did you wish for?” he asks, unable to stop himself.

She freezes with her eyes locked on his. A pink blush spreads across her cheeks, growing darker the longer he stares back at her. “I can’t tell you,” she says, words sounding choked, “or else it won't come true.”

Her flushed face awakens something in his chest, a confidence that blooms magnificently, turns his nervous, pattering heartbeat into a steady, powerful drum.

His voice drops to a hoarse whisper when he asks, “Can I guess?”

Her breath hitches. “I think you might already know, James.” Her words, the sound of his name, melts him down to a puddle. By some miracle, she continues speaking. “Look, I know I’ve kissed you before-”

“But I didn’t do it right,” he says frantically, his hands finding her face and brushing through her hair. He starts to understand why people advise against looking directly at the sun because being this close to her fills him with such astounding emotion he thinks he might explode. She stares up at him, blush deepening, lips parting, and he takes a ragged breath. “Can I try again?”

This time, when she smiles, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans in slowly, letting their breath mix together, their noses bump lightly before he closes the space between their lips. She’s soft and warm and beautiful and radiant and he’s never felt a happiness quite like this one, never experienced a kiss this perfect. His fingers travel over her scorching skin and brush her neck as he deepens the kiss, tasting the raspberries on her tongue, his heart soaring as she responds blissfully until they’re both left breathless.

“And again?” she asks, pulling him back with a smile against his lips.

“And again,” he smiles back, marveling, once again, at the kindness of fate.

#summerofjily #look guys #i have never written present tense before so take that information as you will #and of course i switched to past tense for the flashbacks because I guess I want everyone to suffer #have some sickeningly sweet fluff to make up for it lol #i do not love writing kisses!#but I know you guys like when jily seals the deal so I do it for you #absolutely love this prompt and mitski is that glareingly obvious?#plus picking berries is all i've thought about for 24 hours #<3 #who is reading these tags #seriously lmao #jily fic #jily #lily evans #James potter

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mr-styles · 5 years ago

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Hello, I’m Harry Styles and tonight I’m going to help you drift off to sleep with some soothing words and calming music. A sleep story, just for you. With all the busyness of your day, I know how hard it can be to get to sleep. So I thank you for choosing this story, and me to help you. I wish you a wonderful night’s sleep. So make yourself comfortable. Take a deep breath in, and then out. In, and then out. And when you’re ready, close your eyes.

[Listen]

Have you ever wondered what happens when you sleep? Where you go and what you feel. The places that you seek. When you start to drift away, your mind becomes a book that writes itself, then fades away before you wake to look.

Tonight we’re gong to think about anything you’d like. So first let’s visualise some scenes to see us through the night. Settle back and clear your mind. We’re heading somewhere special, beyond the world of consciousness, to places more celestial.

I’d like you to imagine now, you’re there beneath the stars, which, when you pause to think about it, actually you are. As you focus on the darkness, right before your eyes, fill the scene with glinting lights to emulate night skies.

Think about the things you cherish most and those you love. And then allow yourself to be embraced from up above. The power of the universe, meanders through your mind. So come with me and let’s see what the two of us can find.

Let’s travel now to moonlit valleys, blanketed with heather. The kind of landscape you and i could dream about forever. Imagine lazing on the ground, succumbing to the charms of blades of grass we now caress with fingertips and palms. A gentle scent of cedar wood is floating on the breeze, a gift from mother nature and her nearby cedar trees. We’re gazing at the night sky now, marveling at infinity. So allow your mind to wander to a peaceful new vicinity.

Picture this: a rich green forest, damp with morning dew. Inhale the morning air as we explore, just me and you. Leaves create mosaics in every shade of green, as gentle birds son mingles with the babbling of a stream.

Dappled sepia sunlight cuts through branches overhead, as dew drops fall from leaf to leaf like glistening strands of thread. The dew drops finally coalesce, forming satin beads. Occasionally they kiss our cheeks. Small pleasures, quenching needs.

Holding hands, we stroll until we chance upon a brook. It’s cool clear water, mirroring our faces as we look. The shimmering reflection shows us smiling from above. The word we think but dare not speak is l-o-v-e. Love.

Now we snuggle on a raft, and drift for endless hours. As willow trees sway in the breeze and blossoms fall in showers. Gently swaying to and fro, we look up at the sky and watch the clouds above us forming shapes as they pass by.

The wisps of cloud swirl slowly, tinged with tangerine and pink. And as they fade, the sunset gives us cause to muse and think, of places we should visit and oceans we could cross. For some who wander through this world, there’s grace in being lost.

Passing by a waterfall, our thoughts sway to and fro. And time begins to fade and blur. Beneath the moon’s pale glow, a symphony of tumbling water loves and mesmerizes. Nature’s soundtrack to our dreams, assume so many guises.

Strolling on a sidewalk now, as rain begins to fall. Its gentle pitter-patter holds us deep within its thrall. The raindrops rhythm briefly slows, then intensifies. Peaceful and benevolent. A gift from moonlit skies. The fragrance that the rain creates upon the concrete surface inspires yet relaxes, and focuses our purpose. To shift our minds to neutral and allow our thoughts to drift. And recognise the rainfall as a mesmerising gift.

Sheltering beneath a porch, we watch the rain pour down. Though now the time has come to leave this moonlit town. A gentle breeze wafts through the trees. It causes leaves to stir. And then the rain relents and fades, as time begins to blur.

We find ourselves upon a shoreline, lounging by a lake. While crickets chirp in nearby reeds, it’s hard to stay awake. The scene feels like a watercolour - soft diluted tones. As looking down we see each other. Laughing, skimming stones. The stones skip on the gleaming lake and ripples start to form. And though the sun has dipped from view, we feel content and warm. Herons drift on thermals, high above a sun bleached pier. And in the trees beyond the lake, we glimpse a passing deer.

Strands of cloud unfurl like ribbons in the orange sky. Mirrored on the lake now, like a painted butterfly. In the distance, mountains beckon, capped with pristine snow. The kind of sight that dreams evoke when hearts and minds let go.

Contemplating nothingness. A scene takes shape before us, and as it sharpens in our thoughts, we hear a distant chorus. The dampened sound of silence that only snow can bring, surrounds us with its calming vibes and touches us within.

Glistening snowflakes fall in flourish, mountain rivers freeze. The powdery slopes look beautiful and fresh snow dusts the trees. Somehow now, we’re in a cabin, taking in this view. As a fire crackles in the corner, just for me and you. We linger for a moment, or maybe it’s been hours. For when we blink and look again, our vistas waft in flowers. Another destination lulls us. Closer now it seems. Perhaps it’s real, or just another chapter in our dreams.

Drifting in and out of sleep, our thoughts take us elsewhere. To an island fringed by swaying palms. Lush beyond compare. A path winds through the mangroves towards a distant beach, that underlines the turquoise ocean, now within our reach.

Eventually, we feel the powdery sand right beneath our feet. The sun above now blessing us with gentle, soothing heat. We hear the lilting sound of surf breaking up ahead. While spiral shells and pearly shards determine where we tread.

Finally, a lapping wave engulfs our sandy feet. It seems to pause and ruminate, then gradually retreat. We dig our toes in cool, wet sand, then sit and face the sea. And let the sand wash over us. Alone, just you, and me. Staring at the nothingness that stretches on forever, our thoughts dovetail and unify in tune, two minds together. As minutes turn to hours, we drift off somewhere new. And visualize a stay away, to a door we now walk through.

Imagine now a meadow on a balmy afternoon. Birds, and bees, and rustling trees create a summer tune. Flanked by fields of sunflowers, hand in hand we walk. As the gentle sounds of nature surrounds us while we talk. The sunflowers give the scenery a warm and golden hue, while hazy sunshine softens our idyllic, rustic view. As we roam past hedgerows, a farmhouse sits alone. Its open shutters pressed against uneven walls of stone. A garden winds around the house, and daisies poke through grass. A bench that’s lived through countless summers creaks as we walk past. We wonder if the house is empty. Once loved - but no longer. The thought of passing time inspires a feeling that grows stronger.

This feeling washes over us, lost between a sigh. And as the sun begins to set, we stop and wonder why. Gravity caresses us and pulls you close to me. Then the scene begins to fade, our new reality.

Deeper, gradually deeper, we drift and now transcend to unfamiliar places too surreal to comprehend. Slowly we capitulate, as sleep begins to call. Entwined in dreams and shifting scenes, we drift and gently fall.

Friendly faces, glorious places. Things we hope to do intertwine with snapshots. Some of me, and some of you. Moonlit valleys, verdant forests, gazing at the ocean. Summer meadows, tranquil sunsets, steeped in pure emotion. The tenderness we feel when we are close, two minds as one, surrounds us and connects us, but we’ve only just begun. For now, we dream together of all that is to follow. And know that sleep will keep us safe, from now until tomorrow.

Maybe all the memories that we’ve gathered here tonight, are all dreams now remembered, or wishes in plain sight. No matter what, they’re with us now, for this night and forever. And every time we close our eyes, they’re yours and mine to treasure.

Goodnight and sleep well.

#harry styles #calm

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gimmezutara · 4 years ago

Text

Drabble that came to me earlier when reading hc’s about the steam babies:

Kya whirled around the kitchen grabbing various tea leaves. She expertly arranged the tray and swept past the counter to serve another customer.

She loved working at her Grandpa’s tea shop. It was refreshing and so different from the palace she was used to spending her days in. This place was absolutely bustling with activity and here she had more freedom than she ever did back in the Fire Nation. Here, she wasn’t Kya, Crown Princess of the Fire Nation, she could just be… Kya.

Iroh smiled as he watched her work. He loved the summers he got to spend with his granddaughter. She was always so keen to help out and was a ray of sunshine to his days.

She rushed past him again pulling a funny face and Iroh laughed.

She put her dirty tray down and bumped into Ran at the sink. “Hey, watch it Ky!” he complained as the bump knocked his arm straight into the sink.

“Are you a waterbender or aren’t you?” she teased, reaching for her notepad and pen.

“Yeah, but doesn’t mean I like being soaked,” he replied sulkily. “How come you get to serve and I’m stuck doing the washing up?”

“Wanna swap? There’s plenty of people who’d love to chat with the Prince of the Fire Nation out there,” she said, offering the pen and notebook with a knowing smile.

Ran rolled his eyes and tipped his head back with a weary sigh. “Why did Mum and Dad send us to work here again? You know I could’ve been at Ember Island with Shomo and Raoko right?”

“Doing really productive things I’m sure,” Kya said sarcastically.

Ran huffed, his fringe flying away from his face as he went back to his reluctant cleaning.

Kya bent under the counter to pick up a dish rag.

“Excuse me?” came a voice from above.

“Just a second,” she said, before she tossed the rag back in the sink behind her (feeling satisfied at the groan from her brother) and turned back to see the most gorgeous face she had ever seen in her life. She didn’t know eyes could be that green! He must be an earthbender, surely.

She suddenly realised she’d been gawping at him completely silent.

“Uh, what can I do for you?” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and tugging the ends nervously, a habit she seemed to have picked up from her mother.

“Can I get a ginger tea please?” he asked.

“Oh yeah sure!” she said a tad too loudly. “You sit down and I’ll be right with you!”

She hastily made her way to the kitchen to make the tea, knocking the whole pot over in the process. “Shit…” she muttered to herself.

“Are you alright, Kya?”

She jumped at Iroh’s voice. “Yep, absolutely fine!” she said a little too quickly.

She prepped the tray, steeled herself and made her way out into the seated area. She caught his eyes and felt herself smile. Then she tripped over the green rug in the middle of the floor. With lightning reflexes she managed to right herself just as a tan hand appeared to steady the tray. “Are you ok?” the boy asked.

Kya’s eyes widened. She laughed awkwardly. “I’m fine, just fine,” she said, feeling the tips of her ears burn with a blush as she took the tray from his hands and placed it on the table. “Sorry, I spilled your tea a bit,” she said, “I can get you another-”

“No no, it’s alright,” the boy said with a kind smile.

“Ok, um, great,” Kya said. She nodded her head at him and made her way back to the kitchen as fast as possible.

***

The next few days the boy returned every day. One afternoon Kya was leaning on the countertop lost in her imagination.

Iroh watched from his usual seat. He followed her gaze to the handsome Earth Kingdom boy sitting by the window and chuckled to himself.

He rose from his seat and joined his granddaughter at the counter. “It appears we have a new regular!” he said.

Kya was startled from her daydreaming. “Oh, uh, yes. I mean… who?”

Iroh gestured. “He is a handsome boy is he not?”

Kya blushed. “I… wouldn’t know. I guess,” she said, winning the award for worst nonchalant answer in the world.

“Shame he always sits by himself,” Iroh said. “I would have thought he would have a girlfriend.”

“Do you think he does?” Kya asked a little too quickly.

Iroh laughed to himself but kept his features neutral. “I shouldn’t think so,” he said.

Kya’s face melted with relief. “Ok. That’s good. I mean… that’s fine. Why would I care?”

They stood in silence for a while. “I’ll take over for a while my dear, you could do with a rest,” Iroh said. “Why don’t you go and accompany our new patron?”

“What?” Kya said, instinctively clutching the notebook and pen to her. “No no no, I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Make polite conversation with our new, generous customer?”

Kya paused, stumped for a response. “Uh- no-”

“Great! You have a rest,” Iroh said, taking the notebook and pen from her gently but firmly and shooing her away from the counter.

Kya stood frozen, wrestling with herself for a bit.

She turned to face the table. She sighed and drew herself up straighter and made her way over.

“Uh, hi,” she said. The boy looked up at her and smiled.

“Hi,” he said.

“It’s- uh- nice to see you again. Here. You’re a- um- good customer,” she said. Her brain screamed at her.

The boys lips quirked up into an unfairly gorgeous smile. “Uh, thanks,” he said. “Are you… still working?”

“Me? Oh, um, my Gra….boss just said- it-it’s my break,” she managed.

The boys face lit up. “Oh well, please feel free to join me,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite.

“Ok, thanks,” she said, managing to get through at least one sentence without stumbling over her words. Short as it was, she’d count it as a victory.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” the boy said.

“Oh yeah, I’m just here for the summer,” she replied.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“The Fire Nation,” she said.

“Ah, I thought so. I mean, I didn’t want to assume, but-”

“Golden eyes gave it away huh?” she said. It was a pretty dead giveaway, even if her lightly tan skin and curly hair gave away her Water Tribe heritage.

The boy nodded, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Firebender?” he asked.

She nodded. “Earthbender?” she asked.

He smiled and nodded too.

***

Kya readied herself for her night out.

“You tell anyone I went out, you’re dead,” she threatened her brother.

“Sheesh, calm down, I’m not telling on anyone,” he said from his position lying on the couch. “Just… be careful Kya ok?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

“Oh and you better not bring him back here, ok? I’m not sharing an apartment with you and your new lover.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Same to you and your new fancy lady!” she retorted.

Ran’s face fell. “I- what?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking out last week!”

“I didn’t- she’s not-” Ran began before his face fell into a scowl and he growled in frustration. “Real nice, blackmail from the future Fire Lady, that’s comforting.”

“Shut up,” she retorted with a smile. She took one last glance in the mirror before she set off.

***

Later that night she crept back into the tea shop, a soft flame burning in her palm to light the way. She could hear her brother’s loud snores from outside the room. She carefully put her pack on the side and went to grab some water from the sink.

Suddenly a loud snore from the sofa made her jump and almost drop the cup. She quickly caught it and snapped her head round. She silently made her way to the sofa and peeked her head over it.

Iroh was fast asleep on the couch.

She breathed a sigh of relief and carefully crept back to the kitchen, putting the cup back in its place before quietly going back to her room.

The door closed with a soft click.

The snoring from the sofa ceased and Iroh carefully lifted his head to glance around the room. Then he chuckled to himself.

***

“Ah, you are both here!” Iroh said, greeting the Fire Lord and Lady enthusiastically. “We have had the most wonderful time! Ran’s been working hard in my shop and Kya has been wonderful as always. She’s even made some new friends,” he said. He glanced over at Katara with a twinkle in his eye.

Katara caught his look. She knew that look. Her gaze flicked over to her husband who, as usual, hadn’t noticed his Uncle’s tell tale signs of having some juicy gossip.

“Sit down, you must tell me all about your trip over,” Iroh said, shooing them into seats around the table.

Just then the door opened and Kya walked through, lost in a world of her own.

“Kya!” Zuko said excitedly. Kya jumped, startled at the sudden presence of her parents.

“Dad! Hi!” she said, her startled face melting into a smile.

“How��s my little sunbeam?” Zuko asked, coming over to give her a hug.

“Great, Dad,” Kya said as he squeezed her tight. She made her way over to Katara giving her a hug too.

“Had fun with Grandpa?” Zuko asked.

Kya beamed. “Of course! I actually said I’d look after the kitchen this morning though so…” she said, backing towards the door.

Zuko smiled. “Of course, I’ll come and help get heaters going.”

“Dad, I’m a firebender, you haven’t had to help me with that since I was like three,” she complained.

“Let your Dad be of assistance if he wants,” Katara said, with a patronising pat on Zuko’s shoulder. He arched an eyebrow at her and she nudged him playfully before turning back to his daughter.

Katara eyed Iroh suspiciously over the rim of her cup as Zuko and Kya left the room. Iroh’s face was impassive, as always, but Katara knew he was dying to tell her something.

“Iroh…” she said.

“Yes?” he asked.

“What do you know?”

Iroh looked around conspiratorially and leaned in. “Kya’s got a boyfriend,” he said excitedly.

Katara laughed. “Who?” she asked.

“There’s a handsome boy who comes to the tea shop, you should see her, she’s been daydreaming about him all day every day since she first laid eyes on him!”

“Oh spirits,” Katara said in mock despair.

“Reminds me of a Water Tribe girl I once had working here who could barely make the right orders because she was too distracted by the other server.”

Katara’s face suddenly became amusingly affronted. “I did not make the wrong orders! And I was not ogling Zuko!” she said.

Iroh laughed. “I believe I said ‘distracted’, my dear,” he said.

Katara blushed, as if the idea of being attracted to her husband of twenty years was still embarrassing, making Iroh laugh even more.

“What’s this boy like?” Katara said, a hint of concern in her voice. She knew her daughter could handle herself but she was all too familiar with how vulnerable feelings for someone could make you, and how much it could hurt when it didn’t go well.

“He’s very kind,” Iroh said reassuringly. “You know the day she met him she tripped over, spilled his tea everywhere!”

Katara laughed. “Oh spirits, I’d hoped she wouldn’t take after her father in this respect…”

Iroh laughed too.

Zuko walked back in and the two quickly fell quiet and went back to sipping their tea.

Zuko paused by the table. He regarded them both suspiciously.

“What did I miss?” he said, his tone heavy with suspicion.

“Nothing, my son,” Iroh said dismissively. “I was just telling Lady Katara here that it is important to spice up a marriage after such a long time together.”

Katara choked on her tea.

#Zutara #steambabies #grandpa iroh

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